Reading Recently (Not Necessarily Russian)

Source: “What Ukraine Has Lost,” New York Times, 3 June 2024

Memorial for actor Joachim Gottschalk. When his Jewish wife Meta and son Michael were to be deported, the whole family decided to commit suicide on November 6, 1941. The bronze figure, which was created by Theo Balden in 1967, resembles the actor. It was initially located in a park but had to be moved due to the building of the local Sparkasse in the 1990s. Its new place is a memorial wall in the Joachim-Gottschalk-Straße 35.

Source: “Calau” (Wikipedia)

The Impact of the Gold Rush on Native Americans of California

This inquiry lesson provides primary sources, maps, images, and background history to offer teachers and students insight into a little-known but vitally important aspect of one of the most iconic events in American history—the California gold rush. Students will analyze sources to answer the question: Do American actions against California Native Americans during the gold rush meet the United Nations definition of genocide?

Source: National Museum of the American Indian

The attitude of César Chávez and the UFW towards the undocumented changed over time and can be divided into three periods: 1962 to 1975; 1975 to 1993; and 1993 to the present. A look at these changes reveals much about Chávez, the union, and the times. Frank Bardacke is the author of Trampling Out the Vintage: César Chávez and the Two Souls of the UFW.

Source: Center for Latin American Studies Berkeley (YouTube), 3 August 2012

Whenever an infant heads to nursery, it can feel like an enormous step. Things are changing for everyone. There are all sorts of feelings flying around – relief, sadness, doubt, fear. But what’s going on behind the doors of nurseries and childcare settings in England? India speaks to Joeli Brearley from Pregnant Then Screwed about the current childcare crisis, child development psychotherapist Graham Music about how childcare impacts children, as well as economist Emily Oster on our choices around childcare. India then meets artists Conway and Young who have found a way to make the invisible labour of childcare pay.

Presented by: India Rakusen.
Producer: Georgia Arundell.
Series producer: Ellie Sans.
Executive producer: Suzy Grant.
Commissioning Editor: Rhian Roberts.
Original music composed and performed by The Big Moon.
Mix and Mastering by Charlie Brandon-King.

A Listen Production for Radio 4.

Source: Child, Episode 26: “Nursery,” BBC Radio 4

Childbirth is deadlier in the United States than in any other high-income nation, according to a study released Tuesday by the Commonwealth Fund that underscores the persistence of maternal mortality.

More than 80 percent of pregnancy-related deaths in the United States are preventable, but factors including a shortage of maternity care providers, limited access to after-birth home visits and lack of guaranteed paid parental leave have increased the risk of maternal mortality, especially for Black people, researchers have found.

In 2022, about 22 maternal deaths happened for every 100,000 live births in the United States. For Black people, that number rose sharply to 49.5 deaths per 100,000, according to the report from the Commonwealth Fund, which conducts independent research on health-care issues. Two out of three maternal deaths occur up to 42 days after birth, highlighting the importance of postpartum care, which only some state Medicaid programs and private health insurers cover.

The study compared 14 high-income countries. It used data from the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development — known as the OECD — which tracks health system metrics across 38 high-income countries, and from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention Maternal Mortality Review Committees in 36 states.

Although OECD data is widely regarded as the gold standard for international comparisons, the authors note that discrepancies in how countries gather health data may affect the findings.

“We can’t just think of reproductive health at the time of pregnancy because a lot happens after the baby is born. If we’re not supporting women during this crucial time period, we’re never going to solve this problem,” said Munira Z. Gunja, the study’s lead author and a senior researcher at the Commonwealth Fund.

Ten of the countries listed in the report had a death rate of fewer than 10 per 100,000 live births; in 2022, Norway’s maternal death rate was zero.

Laurie C. Zephyrin, senior vice president for advancing health equity at the Commonwealth Fund, said these numbers paint a stark picture of health care in the United States. She called for more focus on community-led investments, including birth centers and health-care teams working with patients in the weeks before and after delivery. She also said health systems should have incentives and accountability involving equitable quality of care, particularly for communities of color.

With 65 percent of maternal deaths occurring after birth, many health experts emphasize the need for not only more prenatal care but an increase in comprehensive postpartum care.

“We want this to be the cultural norm. We want this to be federal policy. We want there to be a big change because we know that we can completely minimize the rate of maternal deaths in this country,” Gunja said.

Health disparities are not unique to the United States. In Australia, Aboriginal people are twice as likely to die of maternal complications compared with other people giving birth, according to the report. Still, experts are hopeful that policy changes and awareness will help bridge the divide and decrease the overall maternal mortality rate in the United States.

The report highlighted the importance of access to midwives, whose work has been described as an important factor in countries with the lowest maternal mortality rates, the report found. Teams involving midwives could deliver 80 percent of essential maternal care and potentially prevent 41 percent of maternal deaths, 39 percent of neonatal deaths and 26 percent of stillbirths, the report said.

Some studies have found that teams led by midwives offer care comparable, or superior, to care provided by obstetrician-gynecologists. In the United States, Canada and South Korea, OB-GYNs outnumber midwives, but in most other high-income nations, midwives are more prevalent.

The United States and Canada face a shortage of midwives and OB/GYNs. Almost 7 million people in the United States live in areas without hospitals or birth centers offering obstetric care or any obstetric providers. The shortage is expected to worsen.

Since Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022, some states have banned or restricted abortion access, and experts say these restrictions will have a trickle-down effect on health-care access.

“We are setting ourselves up for an absolute reproductive health provider shortage, and contributing to that is this interference into the patient-provider relationship and the restrictions that are being placed on us,” said Tamika C. Auguste, a D.C. OB/GYN and chair of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists Foundation Board who was not involved with the study.

The United States is the only high-income nation without a federally mandated paid parental leave policy and universal health care. Only 13 states and D.C. have paid family and medical leave laws; these policies have been shown to improve health outcomes for pregnant people.

“We are in a dire time in our country, where we’re seeing firsthand the impact of these policy changes at the state level and how they are impacting people’s lives,” Zephyrin said.

In recent years, abortion restrictions have sparked debates and legal battles. State legislatures have been enacting increasingly stringent laws aimed at limiting access to abortion services, such as mandatory waiting periods, ultrasound requirements and bans on certain procedures.

The current wave of abortion restrictions has significantly affected broader health-care services, particularly obstetric care. States that have imposed abortion restrictions often face closure of clinics offering a variety of health-care services, such as cancer screenings, contraceptive services and general reproductive health care. As a result, people in these states encounter greater challenges that exacerbate existing health disparities.

“Women’s health-care providers are being driven out of areas due to the restrictions on practicing full-scope reproductive health care,” Auguste said. “This creates areas where there are no health women’s providers for women.”

Source: Sabrina Malhi, “Childbirth deadlier for Americans, especially Black women, study finds,” Washington Post, 4 June 2024

The factors that led into the creation of their newest album aligns perfectly with the discussions this podcast is about. Just blocks away from the 3rd Police Precinct that burned down during the protests, Twin Cities country-folk band The Gated Community saw many of their recordings lost due a power outage. But being in the center of burning buildings, gunshots, and neighborly concern, Sumanth Gopinath was compelled to write about it. The result: songs about that tumultuous era that culminated in a new album filled with important issues and topics, which fit perfectly with their existing songs and socially conscious perspective as a band. Sitting around one table, I got to hear about the evolution of a band without egos, which is part of what makes The Gated Community so special.

The Gated Community Band Members

Sumanth Gopinath (acoustic guitar and vocals)
Beth Hartman (vocals and auxiliary percussion)
Rosie Harris (vocals and banjo)
Nate Knutson (electric guitar and vocals)
Cody Johnson (bass guitar and vocals)
Paul Hatlelid (drums)

Source: Smouse in the House (podcast), Season 5, Episode 8: “The Gated Community,” 6 June 2024

In his new book, Barons: Money, Power, and the Corruption of America’s Food Industry (Island Press, 2024), Austin Frerick identifies contemporary “barons” in seven different corporations—such as Cargill, Inc., the Driscoll’s and the conglomerate JAB Holding Company—who have taken over food systems and re-shaped communities. Frerick writes in the introduction, “I refer to these people as ‘barons’ to hearken back to Gilded Age robber barons such as John D. Rockefeller and J. P. Morgan because I believe that we are living in a parallel moment when a few titans have the power to shape industries.”

A fellow at the Thurman Arnold Project at Yale University and former Treasury Department official, Frerick has been among the leading experts and researchers in competition policy and antitrust examining food industry consolidation. As co-chair of the Biden campaign’s Agriculture Antitrust Policy Committee, he helped advise several of the leading Democratic presidential candidates on agricultural policy leading up to the 2020 election.

Frerick’s interest in the barons of today’s food-industry is also personal. As a seventh-generation Iowan, Frerick’s interest in antitrust policy began as an undergraduate at Grinnell College where he researched corporate power in Iowa’s slaughterhouse communities.

Barn Raiser spoke with Frerick about how agricultural consolidation has changed the landscape of rural America, and how to bring rural people out from their local Walmart and back onto “Main Street.”

What is it like writing about your home?

It started off as angry and it changed into profound sadness. I think that’s because the origin of the book is in Iowa. “The Hog Barons” chapter is what started this whole thing. This book came about because I published that article in Vox on the hog barons at Iowa Select Farms in Iowa, and I got a book deal from that. I noticed that I changed the tone from when I wrote it as a magazine article and made it into a book chapter. It now reads to me as profoundly sad, like it all kind of fell apart in Iowa. It’s grappling with the Iowa I grew up in and what it’s become, from the anger that’s everywhere to just how industrial the landscape has become.

You wrote that “as farms consolidate, more and more of the wealth leaves rural communities and flows to the Cargills of the world.” You also describe how your hog barons live in a gated community in Des Moines — far from the pollution and working conditions they are creating. A few weeks after your book came out, Jeff and Deb Hansen of Iowa Select Farms, the hog barons you highlight in chapter one, published an op-ed in the Des Moines Register, where they called themselves “stewards of [their] land and communities.” What was your reaction to that op-ed?

They employ their own spokesperson, like someone’s job is to do this for a living, and I just thought it was so poorly written. It reinforced in my head that no one’s ever the villain in their own story. And they’re just delusional. They’re living in a delusional world. They’re just not living in the same world we’re living, and I think the op-ed reflected that. To call themselves stewards of the land with a straight face, it’s just like, no one in Iowa thinks that. That’s an accepted reality at this point.

You hosted a book event in Iowa Falls, where the hog barons are from. What was the reception to your book like there?

Honestly that one shocked me the most. I was actually nervous for that event. I really haven’t been nervous at all during this whole book process. That was the one time I was a little worried for my safety. I turned that tracking thing on my phone so my husband could follow me. It’s a little scary, it’s like you’re going into the heart of the beast. At every book event someone asked me am I worried about my safety, which was, you know, an unnerving question to get all the time. But I had a completely different reaction when I got there. I was shocked. Not only at the turnout—I mean, like 45-50 people—but that there was not one dissenting voice. It was among the most incredible after-talk experiences I’ve had because it felt like a third or half of the room came up and talked to me afterwards, because they all know Jeff and Deb, the hog barons.

They all told me a different story of how Iowa Select Farms bamboozled the community from promises they made and didn’t keep for Des Moines and the intimidation tactics they used to build their empire. Iowa Falls is a beautiful town. It was the epitome of the American Dream for a lot of people and then Jeff and Deb just come in and kind of destroy things to their own personal benefit, and then they hightail it out of there. That’s one thing I kept hearing from people, how they did all this stuff, and then they just left.

In the conclusion of your book, you discuss how “a sense of a distinct regional and local identity” disappears when local businesses disappear. “Unlike the barons, the owners of local businesses live in the communities they serve and are stakeholders in their success. Losing them means losing the glue that binds communities together.” What would need to change for the “Main Street” in rural communities to be revitalized?

This culture of efficiency we live in has stripped us of our community. It views everything as an Excel sheet. There are no coffee beans native to Iowa, you can get coffee anywhere. So much of what you’re buying into is interaction with another human, a sense of being. People bought coffee from my mom because of the human connection and Excel can’t capture that. I was really determined to make that point. Because I saw my mom, who used to work for her own coffee store, and later worked at a corporate Starbucks in Target.

These communities thrive when middle class family farms are around. The biggest way to do that is by putting animals back on the land. These confinements have just destroyed rural communities in every way possible. We also need old fashioned trust busting and antitrust enforcement.

Could you explain how CAFOs are connected to Main Street? How are confinements impacting Main Street?

Denise O’Brien in southwest Iowa really drove home this point to me. She’s a longtime activist, and she talked about how much her street has changed in her lifetime. First of all, one human being can only watch so many cows on pasture—you can’t do robotics for that. Family farms pay local taxes, send their kids to local schools and spend their money locally in town. When that consolidates to one person who owns a big metal shed stuffed full of animals, and the owner of the asset lives in an urban rich community, and then has a low wage worker pop by and take care of things, that’s a very different occupation. It’s the difference between watching a cow on pasture to hauling out dead pig bodies, which is what a lot of that work entails. There’s a whole undercurrent of trauma a lot of these low wage workers experience from basically being surrounded by this incredibly cruel production model that is full of death and destruction.

You write that to change the current system and to “build a more balanced food system” we need to “challenge power directly.” How are you hoping your book will mobilize others to build a more just food system?

That’s my nice Iowa way of rejecting the whole change the food system with your fork mentality that’s been the theory of change the last few decades. To me, it just bifurcated the food system between those that go to the New Pioneer Co-op in Iowa City and those go to Walmart. No one’s ever going to get you a seat at the table. So you have to fight for it.

Source: Nina Elkadi, “The Book That Made the ‘Hog Barons’ Squeal,” Barn Raiser, 6 June 2024

Zhenya Bruno is the pseudonym of a writer who lives in St. Petersburg.

Source: Zhenya Bruno, “Russian Decency,” New York Review of Books, 20 June 2024

Mariameno Kapa-Kingi, Te Pāti Māori Member of Parliament for Te Tai Tokerau, raised eyebrows recently when she claimed in parliament that the government of had a “mission to exterminate Māori.”

Kapa-Kingi was speaking on a proposed change to the processes under which children forcibly removed from their parents by the child welfare agency Oranga Tamariki are placed in foster care.

“The theory of the Minister is that Oranga Tamariki’s governing principles should be colour-blind, which is just another word for white supremacy, because to say we are all one people is really to say we should all be white people,” she explained.

This omnibus post brings together things I've read or listened to recently that made a big impression on me, most of them having nothing to do with Russia. Featuring Joachim Gottschalk, the Native Americans of California, — ^{Mariameno Kapa-Kingi, Te Pāti Māori Member of Parliament for Te Tai Tokerau. Photo: Tania Whyte}

Prime Minister Christopher Luxon described the speech as ‘completely out of line’ and ‘unhelpful.’ Opposition leader Chris Hipkins agreed that it was unhelpful, adding “It’s certainly not language that I agree with.”

Te Pāti Māori co-leaders backed up their MP, however. Rawiri Waititi called it a brilliant speech. “This is how we feel and we will not be told how to feel,” Waititi said. “Many of the policy changes that this Government absolutely makes us feel like there [are] huge extermination processes and policies [aimed at] the very existence of tangata whenua in this country, so it was absolutely the right wording.”

When the facts don’t stack up, you can always appeal to feelings.

Co-leader Debbie Ngarewa-Packer concurred. She could hardly do otherwise, since she herself had used similar language in respect of another of the government’s reforms. Her own response last November to the incoming government’s move to roll back some recent restrictions on sales of cigarettes was equally immoderate: “There is absolute deliberate intention of this government, as I said, to create systemic genocide,” she said on that occasion.

^{Te Pāti Māori Co-leaders Rawiri Waititi and Debbie Ngarewa-Packer}

The question, however, is not how Rawiri Waititi or anyone else feels about anything, but whether the claim is true. And as everyone who has not completely lost their head knows, such claims are preposterous. Genocide is not just cultural assimilation, but the physical extermination of a people. It is inconceivable without mass violence and ethnic killings.

The closest thing to ethnic violence against Māori on such a scale in New Zealand history was during the land wars of the 19^th century. And even that was not a war of genocide, but a war of dispossession. As soon as the colonial authorities had their hands securely on the land, the fate of the dispossessed Māori became a matter of relative indifference to them.

A repeal of anti-smoking legislation, or of child welfare legislation – irrespective of one’s attitude to that repeal – does not constitute mass violence. To use such terms to describe what is happening in New Zealand today only debases the language and renders the terms themselves meaningless. And in doing so, it disorients anyone who takes the term for good coin, concealing the true nature of the problem, and disarming anyone who seeks to address it.

What drives Te Pāti Māori to resort to such histrionics and attention-seeking language?

The answer to that question lies in what Te Pāti Māori is. It is an electoral formation and nothing more. It has no existence outside of Parliament and its associated vote-gathering machinery. It is a parliamentary voice without a movement, like a head without a body, and is therefore powerless, despite its presence in parliament, to affect the course of politics in any significant way.

This powerlessness was exposed in the immediate aftermath of last year’s election, when, buoyed by its electoral gains and alarmed by the new government’s right-leaning course, it called for a National Day of Action to coincide with the opening of the new Parliament in early December. The declared kaupapa was to demonstrate the “beginning of a unified Aotearoa approach to the government’s assault on Tangata Whenua and Te Tiriti o Waitangi”. Their hype included the prediction that “The movement that we’re seeing from Māori will make the foreshore and seabed hīkoi look like something extremely small.” This was a reference to the protest of twenty years ago, in which 15,000 Māori and others converged on Parliament, and which triggered the Labour Party’s Māori MPs to quit to form Te Pāti Māori.

^{Part of the crowd of 15,000 at the Foreshore and Seabed protest at Parliament, 5 May 2004. Photo: Dylan Owen https://natlib.govt.nz/records/23042789}

Nothing remotely comparable to this occurred in the December 2023 Day of Action, despite generous support of the action by the liberal news media, which publicised the assembly points in advance. A few hundred marched in Wellington, and groups of a few dozen rallied in various other towns and cities. In the largest working class concentration, Auckland, a handful of car drivers attempted to disrupt traffic on the motorways, with little effect. It was a rather stark revelation of the narrowness of support for Te Pāti Māori, especially among workers.

When its fighting talk in parliament produces zero effect, the party therefore has few options except to open their mouth wider, shout louder, and use more extreme language in order to win the ear of the ruling class. Not just ‘racism’, but ‘white supremacy’ becomes the order of the day. Not just ‘discrimination’ but ‘extermination’. Not just ‘extermination’, but ‘systemic genocide.’

Don’t be fooled by the truculent posturing and coarseness of tone: these appeals are directed to the rulers, asking “please, listen to us!” They hope to frighten the ruling layers into adjusting their course.

(On his side, Winston Peters of New Zealand First, the counterpart of Te Pāti Māori on the right wing of capitalist politics, uses equally hyperbolic language in his denunciations of Te Pāti Māori, accusing them of “cultural Marxism” and of wanting “anarchy – headed by their Māori elitist cronies turning this country into something akin to apartheid.” Believe me, Winston, nothing could be more alien to Marxism than the politics of feelings!)

But neither the government nor the broader ruling class will listen to Te Pāti Māori. They defend above all else the dictatorship of profit, and the rate of profit has now fallen to the point where it is incompatible with some of the most basic social rights and needs, such as affordable housing, equitable access to health care, basic infrastructure like water and roads, and more. Their ability to grant even small concessions is strictly limited: on the contrary, their present focus is to restore their profits by making even deeper inroads against our wages and social rights.

And among the things capitalist society today is incapable of delivering is the protection of children from violence. The child welfare ministry Oranga Tamariki has been in a permanent state of turmoil for many years, over the question of uplifting children from their parents. It is no closer to resolving this than it was five years ago, when a shocking Newsroom documentary by reporter Melanie Reid exposed the brutality of child ‘uplifts’.

On the one hand, Oranga Tamariki is rightly excoriated for the tearing apart of Māori families in circumstances where it is not justified, such as the case documented in the 2019 documentary, causing long-term trauma. On the other hand, it gets criticised – again with full justification, at least in some cases – for failing to protect the lives of children, who suffer violent deaths at the hands of their family members at a high rate in New Zealand.

Coming under fire from both these opposite directions, the institution lurches from one policy to the opposite, according to the nature of the most recent scandal. At the time of the 2019 documentary, Oranga Tamariki was uplifting hundreds of babies each year, in response to criticism for failing to prevent the violent deaths of babies at the hands of family members. About 70% of these uplifted infants were Māori. (Māori make up about 20% of the population). Oranga Tamariki was under pressure to act pre-emptively in many of these cases, before there was any clear evidence of danger to the child – and therefore these decisions were inevitably based on rumour, prejudice, and racial profiling of Māori as ‘bad parents’. In many cases, the decision to uplift was taken in secret, without any prior discussion with the family concerned.

An intense public outcry followed the documentary. Protests outside Parliament demanded an end to the unjustified snatching of babies, especially Māori babies, from their parents’ arms. The protests denounced the lasting trauma inflicted on the affected Māori families, and the damage to the social fabric caused by the high rate of children being taken into state care. A petition called Hands off Our Tamariki (children) gained 17,377 signatures.

^{Protest at Parliament demands “Hands off Tamariki forever” Photo: Lynn Grieveson}

These protests prompted a switch to the opposite policy. Following multiple inquiries into the functioning of Oranga Tamariki, an amendment to the governing principles of Oranga Tamariki was introduced in 2019, called Section 7AA, which bound the institution to uphold the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi in matters concerning Māori children. In practice this meant placing uplifted babies with members of their own whānau, or with their wider iwi, wherever possible. Labour Party Minister for Children Kelvin Davis proclaimed “This report will end uplifts as we have known them. While there will always be a need for some children to be taken into care, this should only happen after all avenues with community and whanau have been exhausted.” The rate of uplifts fell steadily, from 963 uplifts in 2018 to 251 in 2022.

This was a small but significant gain for the whole working class. It pushed back state interference in Māori families and strengthened the bonds of solidarity within our class.

The death of another young child at the hands of his family has halted that momentum, and now the pendulum is poised to swing all the way back again. Wellington toddler Ruthless-Empire Wall was beaten to death by family members unknown, just shy of his second birthday, in October 2023 – after the boy’s uncle had alerted Oranga Tamariki to the dangerous environment he was living in, and requested them to place the boy in his care.

^{Ruthless-Empire Wall. Photo: Ngatanahira Reremoana}

Now the government, at the behest of its Act Party component, seeks to restore the policy of wholesale uplifts. Act campaigned on the issue in last year’s election, and repeal of Section 7AA was part of the coalition agreement between the three parties that formed the new government in November 2023. The campaign is headed by Act’s Karen Chhour, the incoming Minister for Children and for the Prevention of Family and Sexual Violence. Chhour, who is Māori herself and was raised in state care, presented her own petition to repeal Section 7AA, which received more than 13,400 signatures.

Chhour claims that Section 7AA has led to Māori children being removed from safe and loving homes because their caregivers weren’t of Māori descent. “I consider that section 7AA allows the treatment of children and young people as an identity group first, and a person second, it creates a divisive system that has had a negative impact on caregivers. This repeal will make sure that Oranga Tamariki is entirely child-centric and is making decisions that ensure a child’s wellbeing and best interest. Over successive years, Oranga Tamariki has failed our most vulnerable children, and in part that has been because of Section7AA,” she said.

Chhour presents no evidence to back these assertions, a point noted by the Waitangi Tribunal which entered the debate. If children are actually being torn from existing foster homes where they have already bonded with their caregivers, simply because their caregivers were not of Māori descent, that could be a matter of legitimate concern. But it is incumbent on Chhour to prove that this is in fact happening. Since she does not do so – beyond claiming to have seen it herself – this appears to be a spurious claim.

Nor does she make any attempt to explain why or how adherence to the Treaty of Waitangi should lead to Oranga Tamariki making decisions that are not in the child’s best interest. Her unsupported assertion hints at an unspoken racist explanation: that Māori parents and foster parents are less than competent caregivers. This is a debate with high stakes.

Thus, the issue Mariameno Kapa-Kingi was attempting to address is a real one, and the repeal of Section 7AA should be opposed. It is the ability to recognise a real problem, combined with the inability to do anything about it, that generates the flailing of arms in Parliament, and the politics of middle class hysteria in general.

Even if the repeal of 7AA is defeated, the social scourge of violence against children can only be expected to worsen in the short term. It is a consequence of, among other things, the divided, weakened state of the working class, which is increasingly being torn apart by the ordinary workings of the capitalist economy, exacerbated by the actions of its government and state.

Such violence against children is connected with massively increased economic and other pressures on families: the inflation eroding our wages, the growing insecurity of employment, the cuts to social services like health care, including mental health care, the breakdown of attendance at school, and above all, the housing shortage, which hurls ever-wider layers of workers down into the horrors of drug-riddled and gang-infested ‘emergency housing.’

Violence against children is closely connected with the scourge of violence against women, in which New Zealand ranks so shamefully high in the world. It is worth noting that Te Pāti Māori, along with the Labour, National and Green parties, supported legislation that undermined women’s single-sex spaces, including women’s refuges from domestic violence, by requiring them to open their doors to males. They took an active part in the attack which shut down a women’s rally in Auckland in March 2023 by force and violence. This fact alone should nullify their claim to speak in defence of children.

As long as these social conditions continue, there will continue to be situations in which children have to be removed from their parents’ care in the interests of their own safety. But such removals can also provide an opening for hostile class interests to drive in a wedge that tears apart working class families. This has been done disproportionately, though not exclusively, against Māori, who make up a substantial component of the working class. It is the built-in tendency of intervention by the capitalist state and its agencies like Oranga Tamariki.

It falls to a revived movement of the whole working class to oversee such situations and to ensure that the ties between children and their whānau are maintained as far as possible during their removal, and that they are returned to their parents’ custody as quickly as possible. Strengthening solidarity within the working class, along with raising the social status of women, is the road to ending the violence against children in a more permanent way.

This is not a new problem for the working class worldwide. Farrell Dobbs, a leader of the historic Teamsters Union strikes which organised truck drivers in the US Midwest in the 1930s, once described how these strikes took on the character of the mass social movement. The Teamsters Union Local 574 ‘flying squads’, which had been organised to shut down strike-breaking trucking operations across the city, expanded their operations to intervene when the union got news of unemployed workers being evicted from their homes for non-payment of rent. The arrival of the union flying squad quickly ended the attempts by landlords and their deputy sheriffs to evict the worker.

^{Farrell Dobbs, (with images from the 1934 strikes behind him)}

“In a few instances, the union even adopted children,” Dobbs said.

He explained that at the time it was common for bourgeois charities to identify working-class families that in their view were unable to adequately provide for their children, and the charities would then arrange to have the children adopted out, against the wishes of their parents. The union organisation stepped in to prevent this happening, finding foster parents from among the union ranks to care for the children temporarily, so that they could be returned to their parents at the earliest opportunity. (The talks where Dobbs tells the story of the Minneapolis strikes are available on YouTube, and are very inspiring to listen to in full. Dobbs describes the adoption of children in the third talk, beginning about the 24^th minute.)

^{Children demonstrate in support of their unionist parents}

At this point there is little outward sign of such a revived fighting labour movement in New Zealand, so this political course is far from obvious to see.

What is abundantly clear, however, is that Te Pāti Māori, and all those like them who pursue the opposite course – of appealing to the capitalist rulers and relying on their parliamentary apparatus and state institutions – quickly find themselves in a blind alley.

Source: James Robb, “Te Pāti Māori, Child Welfare, and the Politics of Middle Class Hysteria,” A Worker at Large, 24 May 2024

Errollyn Wallen’s memoir Becoming a Composer is a look into the mind of the composer as well as the life of one. Born in Belize but now based in the far-flung north of Scotland, where she sometimes inhabits a lighthouse, she works at a brisk pace, composing prolifically for orchestra, chamber ensemble, choir, and over twenty operas. Her major public commissions have included music for The Last Night of the Proms, the Paralympic Opening Ceremony, and the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, and she joins us from her home in the Orkney Islands to talk about Becoming a Composer, and becoming a composer.

Music heard in the show:

Title: Horseplay i. Dark and mysterious
Artist: The Continuum Ensemble/Philip Headlam
Composer: Errollyn Wallen
Album: The Girl In My Alphabet
Label: Avie AV0006

Title: Dervish
Artist: Matthew Sharp (cello), Dominic Harlan (piano)
Composer: Errollyn Wallen
Album: The Girl In My Alphabet
Label: Avie AV0006

Title: Sojourner Truth
Artist: Madeleine Mitchell (violin), Errollyn Wallen (piano)
Composer: Errollyn Wallen
Album: Violin Conversations
Label: Naxos 8574560

Title: Cello Concerto
Artist: Matthew Sharp (cello), Ensemble X, Nicholas Kok
Composer: Errollyn Wallen
Album: Photography
Label: NMC NMCD221

Title: Boom Boom
Artist: Palaver Strings, Nicholas Phan
Composer: Errollyn Wallen
Album: A Change is Gonna Come
Label: Azica Records 71365

The Music Show is made on Gadigal and Gundungurra Country

Source: Andrew Ford, “Becoming a Composer with Errollyn Wallen,” The Music Show, ABC Radio National, 25 May 2024

Ored Recordings: May 21st, Again (Abkhazian and Circassian Music from Turkey)

May 21st. Again.

For several years now, almost every May 21st, we release a statement that speaks more clearly about memory, colonialism, defiance against repressive mechanisms, and resistance to assimilation.

For the Circassians, this day is a day of mourning, marking the end of the Russo-Caucasian War in 1864, the loss of independence, and the mass expulsion from their historical homeland.

Alongside the Adyghe, the Abkhazians also mourn on this day, having faced similar displacement. The Ubykhs, who lived in what is now Krasnodar Krai, are believed to have disappeared entirely, save for their descendants, who scarcely remember their language and cultural heritage. Most of them now identify as Circassians.

Open sources provide general information on these events, and the descriptions of past May releases cover our stance on the Circassian genocide.

The situation regarding how federal authorities in Russia and regional authorities in Kabardino-Balkaria, Karachay-Cherkessia, Adygea, and Krasnodar Krai address the history of the Circassians and the Caucasus, as well as their reactions to contemporary issues, remains unchanged. It is consistently disheartening, and one could reread our texts from previous years to find that everything stays on the same trajectory. We’ve even expressed this very thought a few years ago.

However, there is a positive stability — Circassian society continues to calmly and confidently speak about their problems and historical traumas while striving to build their future. Those engaged in linguistic activism, genetic and archaeological research, history, music, or contemporary Circassian art in recent years are unlikely to seriously hope for systemic changes, official acknowledgment of past mistakes, or a shift in the offensive or bland rhetoric of officials, such as “we brought you culture.” Yet, the realization that self-education and self-driven work are essential has dawned on many, if not all.

Xexes — The Diaspora
One visible result of the Russo-Caucasian War was the creation of a massive Circassian diaspora in Syria, Jordan, the United States, Europe, and especially Türkiye. Today, there are more Adyghe in these countries than in the Caucasus (various sources estimate between 3 and 5-6 million). These are the descendants of the muhajirs, forced migrants of the 19th century.

They have their own context, their own struggles, and even their own intonations in music and culture. In Türkiye, all North Caucasians — Balkars, Karachays, Ossetians, Dagestanis, Chechens, Ingush, Abazins, and Abkhazians — are collectively referred to as Circassians.

For a long time, the Turkish government prohibited muhajirs and their descendants from speaking their native languages, using native names and surnames, or naming villages in their native languages. Consequently, Caucasians in Türkiye carry two surnames: an official Turkish one and their “real” native one.

There was no systematic direct communication between the diaspora and the homeland for a long time. Since the early 20th century, muhajirs have returned home with exciting projects (e.g., Adyghe educator Nuri Tsagov/Tsağe Nuri). Or the North Caucasian political figures or abrek warriors who became heroes at home left for Türkiye and Europe (e.g., Kabardian abrek Murat Ozov/Wazi Murat or the founders of the Mountain Republic), but these were exceptions rather than the rule.

In the context of fragmentation and separation from each other, the Adyghe and Abkhazians have preserved and developed their music differently depending on the region. In the diaspora, songs and melodies that are no longer remembered in the Caucasus have been preserved, but those still remembered at home have been lost.

For example, neither Türkiye, Syria, nor Jordan have preserved the violins (shichepshins), but the accordion has developed unique features. Each diaspora has created its own style, which did not exist in the homeland. In this sense, diaspora life has gifted diversity to our people. However, the Circassians and Abkhazians in the diaspora retain a romantic and even sacred perception of the homeland (Hequ for the Circassians) as a pure, untouched, and genuine place.

This presents a danger — any information from the Caucasus is perceived as an unquestionable truth, and any style coming from Hequ is considered the most authentic. Consequently, young musicians sometimes ignore their local characteristics and strive to sound like Kabardian pop music. As a label, this disheartens us.

Nevertheless, the desire for unity and strong ties between the diasporas and the Caucasus is generally positive. Perhaps we should view fragmentation not as a problem but as a feature that makes us more global and mobile.

Düzce and Sakarya
This album includes recordings from a major expedition across Türkiye in 2017. Some of these materials have been released in previous years. This release features songs and tunes we collected in two neighboring provinces: Sakarya and Düzce.

In Sakarya, we visited the Abkhazian family ensemble Azar, which folklorist Madina Pashtova and our friend Erhan Turkav recommended to us before the expedition. Erhan, a Circassian from Türkiye, knew almost all the elderly and young musicians in Sakarya and Düzce.

The rare recordings we found on Facebook from compilations promised a meeting with an old style, free from academic or pop influences. Expeditions in Abkhazia showed that such music is almost gone there. The Soviet influence was very strong — choirs in Sukhumi, Pitsunda, and even villages often sounded like ensembles from radio committees or cultural centers. This, of course, is also interesting, but we wanted to find performers who had either not been influenced by this or had somehow overcome it.

Thus, we were looking forward to our trip to the villages of Sakarya, perhaps even more so than other meetings in Türkiye. It seemed our informants were just as eager to meet us. From the doorstep, we were greeted by elderly Abkhazians keen to show us their hospitality — the table was full of homemade food, and people were ready for well-wishes and toasts (though we only drank tea there).

During the long feast, we learned that the ensemble had faced difficult times — one of the main vocalists and experts in traditional Abkhazian songs, Nezhmettin Anashba, had recently passed away, making it harder for the group to maintain the style of Abkhazian polyphony. It was also sad that there seemed to be no replacements among the younger generation. Azar was regarded as the last bastion of Abkhazian table singing. As is often the case, people were more focused on preserving the image of the last and most valuable bearers of tradition than on acquiring their knowledge and skills.

Fortunately, Tolat Sadzba was still alive — an elder who still remembered the song lyrics and was willing to sing them. That day, after several dishes and traditional blessings, we managed to record only two songs. A heroic ballad from the Russo-Caucasian War about Ajgerei-ipa Kuchuk (about whom there are both Circassian and Ossetian songs) and a song-melody for choral dances — “Aurasha.”

Perhaps we could have recorded more, but the informants were more interested in talking and asking about the homeland (both Abkhazia and the Circassian republics) than in singing songs. The first expedition is often introductory, where we establish contact, and the main part of the material is recorded during the second visit when people are no longer trying to impress us with their hospitality. We left Sakarya firmly believing we would return later and record the rest. But just a few months after our recording, Tolat Sadzba passed away. Thus, these two incredible songs became our only recording of the legendary Azar.

Recording in Düzce
Erhan also organized the recording in Düzce. There, elders (mostly Shapsugs and a few Abkhazians) formed a home ensemble with the ironic name “70-Year-Old Youth” (70’lik Delikanlılar). This joke not only accurately described the participants’ age and enthusiasm but also the music played by the unofficial group — wedding music for games — dzhegu.

The lively elders passed the accordion, played the melodies from hand to hand, sang dance refrains in chorus, and used large wooden benches as percussion instruments, hitting them with wooden sticks (called pkhachag here).

The musicians energized each other, getting into a groove and creating a festive atmosphere for themselves. However, this was not a real wedding but a recording session, so the “70-Year-Old Youth” quickly grew tired and switched to having tea with guests from Nalchik. We managed to record a few very bright but too short tunes. If it had been a real wedding, the release would have consisted of many hours of melodies. Even so, the release conveys an atmosphere of joy and musical festivity.

Hope Instead of Despair
We cannot find reasons for joy or even for optimistic forecasts regarding the attitude of official institutions towards Circassian and Abkhazian history. The situation is either stagnating or worsening, with less space for free discussion of colonialism. Circassians march in mourning despite unjustified bans, and Abkhazians fight against the distribution of their lands and the pressure on civil activists. Instead of developing and striving for the future, our people are forced to defend basic things.

Nevertheless, it is fundamentally important for us to release something every May 21st that speaks not only of mourning but more about hope. Yes, Tolat Sadzba is no longer with us, but his voice and the voices of his friends are preserved in digital formats. These people sang songs and found reasons for joy in the harshest conditions. What they preserved, new generations can take and infuse this music with new meanings and moods.

The joy lies in the fact that there are people for whom these recordings are made. There are those for whom these songs can be sung.

Дызэкъуэтымэ – дылэщщ.

Sound: Timur Kodzoko
Sound editing: Timur Kodzoko
Cover image: Timur Kodzoko
Cover art: Milana Khalilova
Notes: Bulat Khalilov, Sergey Zotov and Bella Mirzoeva
Special thanks to Erhan Turkaw for organization and Fatih Ersem for contacts. Also we want to thank Aslanbek Nacho for his financial support.

Recorded in Sakarya and Düzce, Turkey, November 2017

Source: Ored Recordings (Bandcamp). I would strongly encourage all my readers to buy and download this digital album (paying as much as you wish) and thus support the unique, vital mission of Ored Recordings. |||TRR

“The Dmitriev Affair” in NYC (and Online)

US PREMIERE

Through a thick layer of snow in the forests of Russia, historian Yuri Dmitriev searches for unmarked and lost graves. His singular efforts have uncovered mass burial sites of those who were killed under Stalin’s “Great Terror” of 1937. With no help from official channels, he traces the dead and rescues their memory from the eternal doom of oblivion. Dmitriev’s riveting story is a tale of one man’s fight against the erasure of history by the state. – Bedatri D. Choudhury

Both screenings will be followed by a Q&A with director Jessica Gorter and cinematographer Sergei Markelov.

All in-person screening venues provide sound amplification headphones upon request with venue management. IFC Center can also provide a T-Coil loop for compatible devices.

https://zeppers.nl/en/film/the-dmitriev-affair-in-production

Director: Jessica Gorter

Producer: Frank van den Engel, Elize Kerseboom (line producer), Oksana Maksimchuk (segment producer, Russia)

Cinematographer: Sander Snoep, Sergei Markelov, Alexandra Ivanova, Jessica Gorter

Editor: Katharina Wartena

Language: Russian, English

Country: The Netherlands

Year: 2023

EVENT DETAILS

In-Person Date

Sunday, November 12, 2023 12:15 PM

Venue

IFC Center

BUY TICKETS

In-Person Date

Monday, November 13, 2023 12:15 PM

Venue

IFC Center

BUY TICKETS

Online Dates

Monday, November 13 – Sunday, November 26, 2023

Venue

Online Screening

BUY TICKETS

Source: DOC NYC

Dear friends!

Please join us next Wednesday night, November 15, for a screening of The Dmitriev Affair (2023 | 96 min | Netherlands) by Jessica Gorter, followed by Q&A with the director!

Our screening of The Dmitriev Affair at Hunter College CUNY takes place after its U.S. premiere at DOC NYC on Sunday and Monday, November 12 and 13! Please consider attending these earlier screenings, especially if you cannot make it to ours!

Thank you, as always, and see you soon!

Tamizdat Project

THE DMITRIEV AFFAIR
Film screening and Q&A with the director Jessica Gorter
Wednesday, November 15, 7 pm
Elizabeth Hemmerdinger Center (709 Hunter East Building)
Free and open to the public. RSVP required

The riveting story of Yuri Dmitriev is a tale of one man’s fight against the erasure of history by the Russian state. Deep inside the Russian forests, against the wishes of the authorities, 60-year-old Yuri Dmitriev searches for mass graves from the era of Stalin’s terror against his own people – until one day he is arrested and sentenced to 15 years in a penal colony. Following Yuri closely, the film paints a shocking picture of the way the Russian state rewrites history and treats its citizens.

Yuri Dmitriev exhumes what the Russian rulers would rather forget. After years of searching the pine forests of Karelia in northwestern Russia, he discovers a mass grave containing thousands of people who were secretly executed during Stalin’s “Great Terror” of 1937. It is not the Russian government but Yuri Dmitriev who tracks down their identities in the archives and organizes commemorations for their next of kin. Thanks to his efforts, they finally find out what happened to their lost relatives. Having himself been left at a maternity clinic as a baby, he is a man on a mission: “Every human being has the right to know where they came from and where their family lies buried.”

Trailer for “The Dmitriev Affair” (2023)

While abroad there is increasing recognition for this “archaeologist of terror,” in Russia Dmitriev is discredited as someone collaborating with the West. Then he is arrested, on basis of a fabricated charge. Tragically accurate Dmitriev predicts his own future and that of his country.

Jessica Gorter is a Dutch documentary filmmaker. She studied directing and editing at the Dutch Film and Television Academy in Amsterdam. Her films are screened worldwide at film festivals, theatrically released and broadcasted internationally. Gorter made her breakthrough with 900 Days (2011) about the myth and reality of the Leningrad blockade. The film won a.o. the IDFA Award for Best Dutch Documentary, the Prix Interreligieux at Visions du Réel and the special jury prize at ArtDocFest in Moscow. In 2014 Jessica received the prestigious Documentary Award from the Dutch Prince Bernhard Cultural Fund for her work. In her other feature-length documentary The Red Soul (2017), the director investigated why Stalin is still seen as a hero by so many Russians. With her latest documentary The Dmitriev Affair (2023) Gorter continues the theme of the films she has been making in Russia since the 1990s: laying bare the consequences for individual lives of the disintegration of the Soviet Union.

Directions: At the reception desk of the Hunter West Building, please present your ID to get a pass. From there, take the escalator to the 3rd floor, turn right and walk across the sky bridge to the Hunter East Building, then take the elevator to the 7th floor. Hemmerdinger Center is at the end of the hallway past the turnstiles.

Source: Tamizdat Project email newsletter, 8 November 2023

Communist Dissidents in Early Soviet Russia

Communist Dissidents in Early Soviet Russia. Five documents translated and introduced by Simon Pirani

This book gives voice to Russian communists who participated in the 1917 revolution, but found themselves at odds with the Communist Party as it consolidated its rule in the early 1920s. One Red army veteran demands action against corrupt officials; another mourns the dashed hopes of 1917 and the loss of friendship and solidarity; a “collectivist” group aspires to new cultural and technological revolutions; other oppositionists denounce material inequalities, the return of workplace exploitation and creeping state authoritarianism. The five documents in the book are published in English for the first time, with an introduction and notes.

“These voices of rank-and-file worker communists, from the early 1920s, convey not only accurate diagnoses of the situation then, but also prophetic warnings of the consequences of the Bolshevik Party’s bureaucratic degeneration and of workers’ alienation from control over power. This book is an important contribution to the study of early Soviet history, and necessary for understanding the overall legacy of those Soviet dissidents who criticised the ruling regime from the left, from socialist and democratic positions.”

– Ilya Budraitskis, author of Dissidents Among Dissidents: ideology and the left in post-Soviet Russia (Verso, 2022)

“This slim volume offers a valuable addition to our insights and understandings of worker resistance and opposition in the early Soviet period. The documents themselves are captivating. They are expertly translated and annotated, and the introduction provides crisp and scholarly contextualisation. It will be particularly useful in the classroom for undergraduate and graduate students.”

– Professor Sarah Badcock, author of Politics and the People in Revolutionary Russia: A Provincial History (Cambridge, 2007)

“Given how the Soviet Union developed and the persistent anticommunism around the world today, it is easy to forget that early Soviet Russia was a time and place rich in possibility and in diversity of experience and vision, even among Marxists themselves. The dissident communist voices in Simon Pirani’s compact collection of well introduced, contextualized, annotated, and translated documents from 1920-22 brings this vital era alive intellectually, ideologically, and even emotionally. We hear in this small but diverse selection of largely forgotten communist voices great uncertainty and determination, disillusionment and hope, desire and despair. These voices offer critical viewpoints on ideology and politics, but also richly textured feelings about the condition of the revolution in these key years. Frustration, anger, shame, disgust, and melancholy are among the interpretive emotions weaving through these texts. And we hear important critical perspectives on the failings of the new society—inequality, corruption, bureaucratism, authoritarianism, dishonesty, poverty of thought—and important principles for a new society, including democracy, collectivism, and worker power. This collection is ideal for stimulating student discussion in courses and will be of interest to anyone who wants to understand the experience of revolutionary Russia beyond dismissive stereotypes and simplifications.”

– Mark Steinberg, author of The Russian Revolution, 1905-1921 (Oxford, 2017) and Russian Utopia: A Century of Revolutionary Possibilities (Bloomsbury, 2021)

Contents

Introduction. 1. Anton Vlasov’s letter to the Central Committee (September 1920). 2. Declaration of the Workers and Peasants Socialist Party (Moscow, May 1921). 3. ‘We are Collectivists’ (1921). 4. Appeal of the Workers Truth group (1922). 5. From Iosif Litvinov’s diary (1922). (120 pages)

About the author

Simon Pirani is Honorary Professor at the University of Durham. He is author of The Russian Revolution in Retreat, 1920-1924: Soviet workers and the new communist elite (Routledge, 2008) and other books and articles about Russia and Ukraine.

Where to get your copy

□ Order from Troubadour bookshop here

□ Download the book as a PDF here

□ Russian PDF download here

□ Go via https://bit.ly/communist-dissidents

Source: People & Nature

Maria Ochir-Goryaeva: “Independence Is a Necessity”

Maria Ochir-Goryaeva and Christoph Heusgen, chairman of the Munich Security Conference, February 2023. Courtesy of RFE/RL

When Russia invaded Ukraine, national movements in Russia’s regions advocating secession from Moscow were given a new impetus. A number of analysts have seriously argued that Russia could break up if there is a turning point in the war and noted the particular role of the Caucasus in this process. Kavkaz.Realii spoke with Maria Ochir-Goryaeva, Doctor of Historical Sciences, corresponding member of the German Archaeological Institute, and Distinguished Scholar of Kalmykia, about Kalmykia’s national movement, the Kremlin’s influence on the republic, and the republic’s current plight.

In 1999, Dr. Ochir-Goryaeva was awarded a competitive fellowship by Germany’s prestigious Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, and continued her research at the Eurasian Department of the German Archaeological Institute. She has published four scholarly monographs, the first of which was published in German. Every year, the archaeologist would return to Kalmykia to carry out archaeological digs in her homeland.

• • • • •

– It is the done thing in Russia to speak negatively about the support that western nonprofits and scholarly foundations provided in the 1990s to Russian academics and the Russian education system. Allegedly, it was through grants and training programs that the west inculcated its values in Russia. Tell us about your experience and what such programs did for Russian scholarship.

– Russian propaganda in general and on this issue in particular cannot be termed anything but xenophobic. In the 1990s, when many state-sector employees, including researchers at the Russian Academy of Sciences, were not paid their salaries for months on end, the grants allocated by western foundations literally saved them. In addition to the material aspect, they demonstrated the importance of researchers and their research. It was only thanks to the support of western and, later, Russian foundations that a number of academics, including me, remained in academia.

As for the “inculcation” of values, this is a distorted understanding of the purpose of such organizations. Each foundation has its own goals and values; if they are scholarly foundations, then their goals are scholarly. I have been living in Berlin for twenty-four years and I know that no one is subjected to “inculcation” here, but is given the opportunity to think and choose independently. Reality shows that people enjoy freedom of speech and the possibility of choice. These things work: everyone is eager to live in democratic countries, rather than in Iran, Afghanistan or Russia, which they leave at the first opportunity.

It is not western foundations that smack of “inculcation,” but Moscow’s imperial approach. Putin and his supporters are unable to adapt to a constantly changing world and are trying to adapt it to their needs by brute force and to make it conform to their outdated stereotypes.

– There is the opinion that this intellectual stagnation is displayed not only by country’s leadership, but also by many rank-and-file Russians, including those who disagree with Putin.

– I agree with this opinion. The wave of migrants from Russia, regardless of ethnicity, is no different from the populace who have stayed behind in Russia. Just as there, a small percentage of them are genuinely active in drawing attention to what is happening in Russia. Even here in Germany, many continue to fear for themselves, concealing their faces and names at protest rallies. The rest are either simply indifferent or they support Putin. Many have relocated in order to maintain their level of well-being and to be able to continue traveling around the world. They are, primarily, residents of Moscow who made good money.

Two things disappoint me about the new immigrants from Russia. The first thing is that few of them follow the news from the front and sincerely worry about Ukrainians. The topic never comes up in their conversations. Feelings of shame and guilt are probably unfamiliar to them. When I say something about bombing or war crimes, they immediately change the subject.

Maria Ochir-Goryaeva (left) at an anti-war protest in Berlin. Courtesy of RFE/RL

The second thing is xenophobia. Walking around Berlin, I have repeatedly heard indignation voiced by Russian speakers over why Germans tolerate the fact that Muslims here go about “in their headscarves.” Or, for example, Russians ask for help finding an apartment, but only in neighborhoods where “blacks,” as they say—meaning Arabs and Turks—do not live. This has shocked me as an Asian woman.

It seems to me that many immigrants do not assimilate the moral values of democracy and tolerance, but simply import Russia with all its stereotypes and ideology here. The problem is that Russians, with rare exceptions, are unable to understand the rationale and value of democracy. Otherwise, neither Putin, nor these decades of trampling on freedoms in Russia, nor the terrible war would have happened.

– At the same time, Putin and his entourage claim that the west has been trying to rewrite and distort history.

– We were all taught in school that in the early Middle Ages there was Kievan Rus’, a state centered around the city of Kyiv, that is, in present-day Ukraine. Then, three or four centuries later, the Grand Duchy of Moscow was formed, incorporating the lands in Moscow’s orbit. This name was the most accurate and reflects the essence of both the territory and its populace. Theoretically, it could be called Muscovite Rus’, but after its conquest of other peoples, it would be more correct to call this entity the Muscovite Empire. This state has its own history and traditions, like any other. The towns of the Golden Ring alone are worth so much! It is not that you mustn’t prize your own identity and your own statehood, but you should not appropriate someone else’s past.

Until a certain point, the Muscovites did not seek to appropriate Kievan Rus’ as part of their own history. This happened later, after Peter the Great declared himself Emperor of All the Russias. It was then that the temptation emerged to occupy not only the lands, but also the past of this foreign state.

Most of modern Russia consists of lands forcibly annexed to the Grand Duchy of Moscow and the Tsardom of Russia: the Volga region, Siberia, the Far East, and the North Caucasus have nothing to do with Kievan Rus’. They are colonies of the Russian empire. So it is the inhabitants of the Kremlin who are engaged in distorting history for the sake of political ambitions and propaganda.

– In 2022, representatives of national movements from different republics condemned the war and stressed that the conflict did not serve the interests of the Russia’s ethnic minorities. There were isolated protests in Kalmykia, but there were no large-scale protests here. Did you expect this reaction?

– Attitudes to the war in Kalmykia, according to my information, are similar to what you would find among an average sampling of opinions Russia-wide. Why should it be otherwise if the empire has been pursuing a policy of Russification and unification for centuries, thus leveling ethnic differences? There are critically minded people in every region, but there are only a few of them. And almost all of them have left the country, especially since 2022.

It is clear that if the Oirats had reached the shores of the Atlantic in the distant past and stayed here, they would probably have been part of a democratic Europe. Since our ancestors founded their Torghut Khanate on the banks of the Ijil-Idel-Edel-Volga River [these are different names for the Volga River—KR], they shared the fate of the rest of the peoples in the Evil Empire.

We could talk for a long time about the pros and cons of the arrival of the Oirats in Europe, the foundation of their khanate, the migration to Dzungaria, the peasant colonization of the khanate’s lands, the Russian Civil War… History, as you know, does not operate in the subjunctive mood. And Kalmyks have to live in those conditions, which means they are inevitably a cross-section of the society in which they find themselves today.

– How realistic are hopes for the independence of Kalmykia now? What are the decisive factors? Are Kalmyks themselves ready for it?

– Independence has ripened for a long time; it is a necessity. There are always leveling processes within large states. So, the regions of Russia, not only the republics, have to become independent, and then function like the European Union. This means that everyone has their own state, their own rules and system of governance, but when it comes to general issues—for example, environmental protection and projects aimed at the future—they would act in concert.

Disintegration into independent states is vital to all the peoples of Russia, including ethnic Russians. After all, the interests and problems of ethnic Russians living in Siberia or the Far East are clearly different from the interests and problems of Muscovites. The capital is robbing all the regions, and so the Kremlin has a huge amount of money with which to wage a large-scale war and seize foreign lands. If the money of the regions stayed in the regions themselves, the country’s leadership would not have such massive resources, and people in Russia’s hinterlands would live much better! All segments of society suffer from this centralized system.

– At the same time, the situation in the republics differs from the situation in the regions and territories.

– The ethnic republics are, constitutionally, members of the Russian Federation. Moscow not only fleeces them, like the other regions, but also pursues a frankly colonial policy toward them. For example, it redraws their borders, grabbing the best lands for itself. The lands of the Buryats were divided into three administrative regions, while two districts were confiscated from Kalmykia to create the Astrakhan Region. Industrial facilities are built everywhere, just not in the republics. Accordingly, the economy there does not grow, professionals emigrate due to lack of work, and the populace is burdened with debt.

The project to construct the Iki-Burul water pipeline from the Levokum reservoir was imposed by Moscow to increase Kalmykia’s dependence on the outside world and force it to pay the Stavropol Territory for water, although it would have been easier for the republic to extend a branch line from the village of Tsagan Aman and pump water for free from the Ijil-Volga. The longest stretch of the Tengiz-Novorossiysk oil pipeline runs through Kalmykia, but the Krasnodar Territory receives the money for the rent. People from the Kalmykian government complained that they could not change the terms of the contract and they traveled back and forth to Moscow, but the officials there were unmoved.

They do not see the economic side, but the policy of the empire also leads to the loss of identity, language, and traditional culture.

– In your opinion, why did the population of the republics, not only Kalmykia, so easily abandon the sovereignty and even independence they had obtained in the early 1990s?

– Easily abandoned: that’s a good way of putting it! But what about the two terrible wars against independent Chechnya? Moscow forcibly and harshly resurrected the imperial approach, severely cracking down on all protests. No one wanted to be deported to Siberia again, so Kalmyks actually had no choice.

What happened to Gorodovikov back in Soviet times in Kalmykia? [Basan Gorodovikov was first secretary of the Kalmyk Regional Committee of the CPSU from 1961 to 1978—KR.] He, an old general, a decorated Hero of the USSR, was escorted from the CPSU Congress hall by KGB men and immediately booted from office because he dared to suggest that the two districts taken from Kalmykia be returned. That is why, in his wake, until 1990, only envoys from were tapped to run the republic. The desire for independence among the concerned part of our people has never faded.

– Kalmykia ranks last among Russia’s regions in almost all socio-economic ratings. This has been going on for many years—it was the same under Kirsan Ilyumzhinov and Alexei Orlov as it has been now under Batu Hasikov. In your opinion, why have none of the heads of the republic been able to achieve a breakthrough in terms of its growth? Could they have done it?

– Because the colonial policy has never stopped, and it is impossible by definition to make a breakthrough in such conditions. A colony is a colony, and its construction industry, infrastructure, and social services will be worse than in the metropole. The only thing that happens in a colony is the siphoning off of resources and professionals, and total Russification is carried out in all areas, from language to the rewriting of history. This is also an imperial policy. Nations are not allowed to study their own past: Moscow imposes on them the interpretation of the past that is beneficial to Moscow.

By the way, the regional elites are also well aware of this. The governors of the regions and the heads of republics are forced to go to Moscow to bow and scrape, begging for the money which they themselves sent there in the form of taxes. So the issue of disintegration has matured not only at the grassroots, in the minds of national movement activists, but also among local elites. The ethnic Russian hinterland must understand that Moscow takes advantage of their political naivety and forces them to live in ignominious poverty. The consequences of the war with Ukraine might just be the match that ignites this inevitable process.

Maria Ochir-Goryaeva (left) at archaeological digs of a Bronze Age settlement with colleagues from the State Archaeology Department of Schleswig-Holstein (Germany), 2012. Courtesy of RFE/RL

– There is the opinion that Russian society massively supports this war. In your opinion, as a person observing from the outside, is this the case?

– Of course, they massively support it: people need to survive somehow, this is their priority. Everything is decided by the state system and what values it promotes. During the Third Reich, the Germans also massively supported the war. But when the system changed, the same people turned democratic. The same change can happen to Russian society, and for this to happen the system has to change. And the people as a whole easily change its opinions and habits.

I will give you an example. I spent eight years on the border of Kalmykia and the Rostov Region digging up two fortresses from the era of the Khazar Khaganate. We lived for months in a small village where the entire population is ethnically Russian. We hired the local men to do the digging. They don’t just swear there, they practically speak in obscenities. I forbade them to swear at the digging site and joke about gender issues, otherwise I would kick them out without paying them their day’s wages. And they worked for me all day for months without swearing!

What is more, nearly everyone in this village was a nationalist, in the sense that they did not like Kalmyks. But since I treated them with respect and paid them for their work every evening, they treated me and the other researchers quite cordially. People everywhere, whether they are Russians or Germans or whatever, are masters of survival. So, I don’t think you have to convince them verbally. When conditions change, ordinary people themselves figure out how it benefits them. You shouldn’t condemn ordinary people. You should cherish them and foster conditions for them to lead decent lives, whatever their ethnicity.

• • • • •

Earlier this month, Kavkaz.Realii published a report on life in Kalmykia and the impact of the war in neighboring Ukraine on it.

In October 2022, the Verkhovna Rada adopted a resolution recognizing Chechnya as a territory temporarily occupied by Russia, and also condemned the “genocide of the Chechen people.” All 287 MPs present voted in favor of the resolution. Oleksiy Goncharenko was one of the authors of the resolution.

In late October 2022, the Oirat-Kalmyk People’s Congress adopted a declaration entitled “On the State Independence of the Republic of Kalmykia.” This is not the first call for self-determination for the Russian Federation’s ethnic republics since the outbreak of the war in Ukraine. “Free Nations of Russia Forums” have been held in Warsaw, Prague and Gdansk, and representatives of ethnic groups “oppressed by the Kremlin regime” met in Kyiv.

On January 7, supporters of an independent Ingushetia met in Istanbul. The creation of the Ingush Independence Committee was announced at the meeting. The Committee’s goals include consolidating Ingush society around the idea of freedom and independence, preserving cultural and religious identity, creating the basis for building an independent Ingush state, and “preventing another deception of the people and another round of violence against them.”

Source: Andrei Krasno, “‘Independence is a necessity’: a historian from Kalmykia on the the republic’s future,” Kavkaz.Realii (Radio Svoboda), 14 June 2023. Translated by the Russian Reader. Thanks to Comrade Koganzon for the heads-up.

Circassian Day of Mourning (May 21)

On the day of the end of the Russian-Caucasian war of 1763–1864, on the day of memory and sorrow of the Circassians, we publish another album-manifesto from Jrpjej.

In addition to music, the album is accompanied by a pdf-zine with our reflection on Circassian songs of the 20th century and their relevance today

“Sefitse” is a line from the song “Quedzoqo Tole Tsiku.”

In the Adyghe language, “se” is a homonym that means both milk and bullet. To intensify the tragedy, the bullet in the song is called black. We found this metaphor and wordplay profound. Death and the life-giving drink go hand in hand, as death permeates the everyday life of wartime.

It is important for us to release this album on May 21st, the Day of Remembrance for the Adygs. For several years now, we have been releasing special albums on this day. Most often, these are songs from the period of the Russo-Caucasian War. The accompanying text to these albums hardly changes, just as the official discourse in the political space of the North Caucasus does not change. In fact, it has only gotten worse — the 2022 Jrpjej album was our protest against the ban on the mourning procession in Nalchik.

In 2023, the traditional procession is once again officially banned for fabricated reasons. Therefore, any action that helps people remember and resist assimilation seems particularly important to us.

Songs about the executed Zalimgery Keref, the battle of Kars, of Tole Kodzoko bleeding in the trench, and others tell us that the methods of repression do not change. But no matter how much our voices are drowned out, these songs still resonate. One hundred years ago and right now.

This album is about memory, action, and solidarity.

Jrpjej:
Timur Kodzoko
Daiana Kulova
Alan Shawdjan
Gupsa Pashtova
Astemir Ashiboko
Zaurkan Mazlo

Session musicians:
Aslan Tashu
Dzhanet Siukhova
Iland Khadjaev

Recorded on September 2022 and April 2023.
Recording location: Dom Radio, Nalchik, Kabardino-Balkaria

Sound and mixing: Timur Kodzoko
Cover art: Milana Khalilova
Liner notes: Bulat Khalilov
Translation: Bella Mirzoeva

Source: Ored Recordings (Bandcamp) Please consider paying (whatever you like) at the link and thus being able to download a high-quality mp3 file of the album, which includes a fascinating 47-page illustrated booklet in Russian and English. ||| ••• TRR •••

[…]

Unlike Inversia, Nalchik’s Platform festival was conceived, organized and launched literally on the fly. In the summer of 2019, Bulat Khalilov and Timur Kodzokov, the founders of the ethnographic music label Ored Recordings, specializing in the traditional music of the peoples of the Caucasus, came up with the idea of holding an educational and musical marathon in their hometown of Nalchik. They appealed for support to Oksana Shukhostanova from the Art Hall Platform Urban Development Institute, an agency under the municipal administration, who acted as an intermediary between the mayor’s office and festival organizers, and also gave the event its name.

“Platform is primarily a festival of urban culture, and music is only one of its components”, Khalilov says. “In terms of engaging with urban spaces and communities, we have both strengths and points that are sagging and need to be improved. For example, we open new places for fun-filled informal events. So, the first festival breathed life into the almost-forgotten but once-popular Dance Hall. It had been a long time since live music was played there, especially in this format.”

Subsequently, the festival was held in one of the halls at the House of Trade Unions in the city center, where, according to the event’s organizers, no cultural events had ever been held at all.

“It is quite odd, because both the pompous Soviet-style building itself and the hall, with its excellent acoustics, were begging for something interesting to happen in them. Last year, at this location, we staged performances by Utro, Pasosh, Fyodor’s Garden, Alina Petrova and Sergei Khramtsevich, and Foresteppe. And most recently (in January 2021), Platform had a cool spin-off – a collaboration between Ored Recordings and Le Guess Who? For this project, Platform and Ored swapped places: the label was the organizer, while the institution was the partner. A mini-festival of contemporary Circassian music – from traditional to black – was held in the concert studio of Radio House, where folk choirs, orchestras and many more musicians were recorded in Soviet times. Now we (Ored and Platform) are planning to work with regional radio, so we want to continue to do something interesting in these spaces.”

On the other hand, Platform has not yet able to utilize several venues at once, thus immersing the whole of Nalchik in an atmosphere of musical celebration. Khalilov argues that this is a problem of scale and resources: at this stage, the organizers cannot afford to invite many musicians and hold a large number of other activities in the city – for example, educational events (lectures, seminars, master classes, film screenings) and interdisciplinary events (exhibitions, audiovisual performances, theater productions) – in order to engage more locations and more diverse sites.

“I see a problem in the fact that we don’t always manage to involve local communities,” says Bulat. “In terms of music, this happens because the local scene is still in its infancy: we have almost no musicians that we could put in the same line-up with Brom or Utro without compromising the quality. The exceptions are the local traditional music and rare gems like the vinyl DJ RK.”

The organizers also note that interacting with city hall is one of the most difficult aspects of their work. As in the case of Inversia, communication with the authorities often comes down to solving formal issues and proving to officials that the festival has great potential for developing the city, improving its image, boosting tourism in the region, and so on. The Platform team admits, however, that the Nalchik administration provides all possible assistance to their undertaking: the festival receives a considerable chunk of its budget through city hall. And yet, they say, the cooperation could be closer and more productive, thus benefiting, first of all, the city itself. Because, as Platform’s curators emphasize, the main goal of the festival, as well as of Ored Recordings, is to build a community or environment for traditional music that would fit into a contemporary context – that is, to generate conditions in which performers understand how and why to make music, and listeners, where to listen to it. Platform aims to grow communities in Nalchik that will nurture profoundly local phenomena (in music, literature, etc.) that are in demand both at home and globally.

“That’s why we combine traditional music and the provisional ‘stars’ of independent music in the line-up,” Khalilov says. “Having Pasosh and Susanna Talijokova on the same stage with dance performances is strange even by the standards of local music lovers. I’m not sure that our audience deciphers this message, but with each subsequent festival, it is noticeable how the teenagers who have come for the post-punk and fans of Circassian music get used to each other and do not perceive different music as something strange.”

Finally, the Platform team regards the negative experience of interacting with local non-folk musicians as another problem. “Many of them send applications to play at the festival, but rarely come to the festival itself,” says Bulat. “It’s strange when people seem to want their moment of glory at the festival, but they don’t seem to need it.” He notes that, perhaps, it is a matter of time and soon there will be groups of a suitable format in Nalchik, or maybe something deeply local in contrast to Platform, since the festival is focused on a somewhat narrow albeit woke audience. (According to him, there are other events in Nalchik for mass audiences, including Art Bazaar, Gastrofest, and the Festival of Flowers.) Any of those outcomes would be tantamount to progress in Khalilov’s eyes.

“In terms of interacting with the city and the local community, we look at festivals like Le Guess Who? and Unsound, and among the Russian festivals we are inspired by Bol and Inversia,” Khalilov continues. “Although it’s a young festival, Platform copes with this job at some level. We always have something local on stage. If the festival had more resources, it would be possible to recruit more local musicians to various projects. We are working in this direction, but it is also vital that local content is presented not only as part of a quota or due to having a local residence permit. You cannot make allowances for a musician because they live in Nalchik. I am sure that Jrpjej is invited to major festivals not because they’re ‘exotic’ (although some of the audience, of course, perceives them as these weird Circassians), but because of their unique sound and good material. We think it’s important to show local residents and local musicians that, musically speaking, geography and your home address are not big obstacles. You can find more advantages than obstacles in living in Nalchik.”

Platform’s impact on Nalchik’s cultural image is still difficult to assess — the festival is too new. There are a lot of people in the city who haven’t even heard of it. The organizers are sure that their project and Ored Recordings reveal and highlight an important problem: in fact, there is neither a culture industry nor a clearly delineated media space in Nalchik.

“If you’re promoting a concert at DOM or Shagi in Moscow, I understand that you have to send announcements to Afisha and The Village, and post info on the right Telegram channels and VK community pages, but it’s not entirely clear how you convey information to the Nalchik audience,” Bulat says. “There are no information channels, everything is as spontaneous and quirky as possible. We are working on this aspect, which is also a good thing.”

On the other hand, Platform has formed its own audience, which waits for the festival to come around each year and asks the organizers to invite specific performers (from Ivan Dorn to M8L8TH). There are also fans from other regions who come to Nalchik specifically for Platform. And, finally, there is attention from the media. So, for some locals and outsiders, Nalchik has already become a more comfortable and interesting place to live and visit.

[…]

Source: Kristina Sarkhanyants, “South by Northeast: Music Festivals and the Cultural Cachet of Mid-Size Russian Cities,” trans. Thomas H. Campbell, V–A–C Sreda, no. 20 (May 2021)

The authorities of Kabardino-Balkaria have banned holding events in memory of the victims of the Caucasian War, threatening responsibility for violating the ban, reports Aslan Beshto, the chair of the Coordinating Council of Adyghe Public Associations.

Caucasian Knot has reported that in 2022, the authorities of Kabardino-Balkaria refused to sanction a march in memory of the victims of the Caucasian War. Despite the ban, on May 21, a mourning meeting was held at the “Tree of Life” monument, and several dozen young people held a march in memory of the victims of the Caucasian War on the streets of Nalchik. The police drew up a report on the violation of public order against a horseman who took part in the march.

On May 20, 2022, participants of the mourning events held at the “Tree of Life” monument in Nalchik lit 101 candles. The activists criticized the republic’s authorities for cancelling the march on the Circassian Day of Mourning.

According to Aslan Beshto, the chair of the Coordinating Council of Adyghe Public Associations, he was warned that if organizers held an unsanctioned rally, they would be brough to responsibility under the “rally” article, Kavkaz.Realii reports.

This article was originally published on the Russian page of 24/7 Internet [news] agency Caucasian Knot on May 14, 2023 at 01:08 pm MSK. To access the full text of the article [in Russian], click here.

Source: “Nalchik activists refused [i.e., were denied permission] to hold events on Circassian Day of Mourning,” Caucasian Knot, 15 May 2023

Events have been held in Nalchik to commemorate the Circassian Day of Mourning, including a march through the streets of the city that was not permitted by the authorities. The people involved in the events considered it vital to preserve Adyghe traditions.

As Caucasian Knot has reported, May 21, the Day of Remembrance for the Victims of the Caucasian War, was officially declared a holiday in Adygea, Kabardino-Balkaria and Karachay-Cherkessia, where Circassians are the titular nation. This year, the authorities in Kabardino-Balkaria banned holding events in memory of the victims of the Caucasian War on May 20 and 21, threatening to prosecute those who violated the ban, said Aslan Beshto, chair of the Coordinating Council of Adyghe Public Associations.

Adyghe (Circassians) is the common name for a people living in Russia and abroad, who have been divided into Kabardians, Circassians, and Adygeans. May 21 is celebrated annually as Circassian Day of Mourning, according to the Caucasian Knot reference guide.

Several events were held in Nalchik to commemorate the Circassian Day of Mourning

Events commemorating the 159th anniversary of the end of the Caucasian War began in Nalchik on the evening of May 20 at the Tree of Life Memorial. There, the republic’s musical groups performed folk songs about the dramatic events of the Caucasian War, and 159 candles were lit. Traditional funeral treats, lakum, were handed out to attendees our correspondent reported.

Today, the main events took place in Nalchik, including an unauthorized march by several dozen people through downtown Nalchik from the railway station to Abkhazia Square, and from there to the Tree of Life Memorial. The marchers carried [Circassian] flags and periodically shouted the phrase “the Adyghe tribe is alive” in their native language. Although the march had not been permitted by authorities, no one stopped them.

The Caucasian War, which lasted from 1763 to 1864, brought the Adyghe peoples to the brink of extinction. After the war and the mass deportation of Adyghe to the Ottoman Empire, a little more than 50,000 Adyghe remained in their homeland. The Russian authorities have not yet acknowledged the Circassian genocide during the war.

Several hundred people gathered in the park near the Tree of Life Memorial. At twelve noon Moscow time, a rally began. It was kicked off by Mukhadin Kumakhov, Kabardino-Balkaria’s minister of culture. He explained that the head of the republic, veterans, members of parliament, members of the government, heads of administration of districts and villages, clergy and elders had came to honor the memory of their ancestors.

Most of the speech given by Houti Sokhrokov, president of the International Circassian Association, was in Kabardian. In Russian, he said that 159 years had passed “since the bloodiest war.” “We stand today in a place sacred to all the Adyghe, the Tree of Life Memorial, and remember those who fell in that war. We shall cherish the memory of their courage in our hearts, and pray that this never happen to any nation again,” he said.

Sokhrokov then asked for a minute of silence, after which continued his speech. “As we remember today the events of those distant years, we pay tribute to the wisdom, foresight, fortitude and perseverance of our ancestors, who, despite all their hardships, saved the Adyghe people, remained faithful to the fateful choice they had made once upon a time, and preserved their historical homeland for future generations. This historical continuity has not been severed. It is only thanks to this that the Adyghe have preserved their language, traditions and culture,” he said.

The republic’s leading Muslim clerics performed a dua, a memorial prayer ritual, after which flowers were laid at the memorial, our correspondent reported.

Nalchik residents pointed out the importance of preserving Adyghe traditions

The date is a sad one for Adyghe, Timur Shardanov, chair of the Council of Veterans of the War in Abkhazia told our correspondent. “Today is a sad day for us Adyghe. We war veterans have come to honor the memory of ancestors who passed away at that time. We cherish their memory and try to pass it on to our [children]. We must do this so that it does not happen again somewhere. We know what war is, and we don’t want our children to see it,” he said.

Shardanov argues that an equestrian procession is optional on the Day of Mourning. The main thing, in his opinion, is to come to the memorial and stand for a while there.

An injustice was committed against the Adyghe, which consists not only in the expulsion of the people, but “also in an attempt to erase the memory of this page of history,” another attendee, Alexei Bekshokov argues. “The Koran says: I have forbidden injustice to myself and I forbid it to you,” he explained to our correspondent

Bekshokov considers the ban on the equestrian procession an excessive measure. “Nothing would have happened if it had taken place. Horse marches were part of Circassian history,” he said.

In 2022, the authorities in Kabardino-Balkaria turned down a request by a grassroots group to hold a solemn procession in memory of the victims of the Caucasian War. Despite the ban, on 21 May 2022, several dozen young people marched through the streets of Nalchik. The security forces charged a rider who took part in the procession with disturbing the peace. The atmosphere during the march was tense, and the clash between the police and the riders heated it up even more, eyewitnesses said. The march had been held for many years without incident, Martin Kochesoko, the president of [rights group] Habze, noted at the time.

Anatoly Thagapsoev, a resident of Nalchik, argues that the best tribute to the memory of their ancestors would be if the Adyghe did not lose traditions which have been part of their existence for centuries.

“I see that women without headscarves and men without hats have come to the memorial event. This used not to be allowed among the Adyghe. They bring children in ethnic costumes and take pictures of them in front of the memorial, as if it were a holiday. The line between the Adyghe man and the Adyghe woman, the older and younger [generations], is also being erased. Previously, a woman had no right to cross a road in front of a man. When a man passed by, a woman had to stand up, even if it was a boy, for the boy is a future man. These are nuances, but being Adyghe consisted of them,” the Nalchik resident told our correspondent.

Community leader Idar Tsipinov believes that the Adyghe Day of Remembrance contributes to the revival of national consciousness. “Personally, I am opposed to globalization. I believe that the more nations, the more different cultures there are, the more interesting it is. This does not mean that we live in the past. This means that we live in the present, we look to the future, but we don’t forget the past either,” he told our correspondent.

Caucasian Knot collects articles on the situation of Circassians in Russia and abroad on the thematic page “The Circassian Question.” Our “Reference” section also contains the article “The parade in Krasnaya Polyana: How Russia broke the Circassian resistance.”

Source: “Nalchik residents hold march on Circassian Day of Mourning despite ban by authorities,” Caucasian Knot, 21 May 2023. Translated by the Russian Reader

The Circassian Day of Mourning (Adyghe: Шъыгъо-шӏэжъ маф, Russian: День памяти жертв Кавказской войны) or the Day of Mourning for the Victims of the Circassian Genocide (often censored in Russian media as Day of Remembrance for the Victims of the Caucasus War) is mourned every year on 21 May in remembrance of the victims of the Russo-Circassian War and the subsequent Circassian genocide by members of the Circassian diaspora. The choice of the date is due to the fact that on 21 May 1864, General Pavel Grabbe held a military parade in the what is now Krasnaya Polyana in honor of the victory in the Battle of Qbaada.

Background

From 1763 to 1864 the Circassians fought against the Russians in the Russian-Circassian War. During the war, Russian Empire employed a genocidal strategy of massacring Circassian civilians. Only a small percentage who accepted Russification and resettlement within the Russian Empire were completely spared. The remaining Circassian population who refused were variously dispersed or killed en masse. Circassian villages would be located and burnt, systematically starved, or their entire population massacred. Leo Tolstoy reports that Russian soldiers would attack village houses at night. Sir Pelgrave, a British diplomat who witnessed the events, adds that “their only crime was not being Russian.”

A mass deportation was launched against the surviving population before the end of the war in 1864 and it was mostly completed by 1867. Some died from epidemics or starvation among the crowds of deportees and were reportedly eaten by dogs after their death. Others died when the ships underway sank during storms. Calculations, including taking into account the Russian government’s own archival figures, have estimated a loss of 80–97% of the Circassian population in the process. The displaced people were settled primarily to the Ottoman Empire.

In 1914, Nicholas II celebrated the 50th anniversary of the defeat of the Circassians, describing it as one of the empire’s greatest victories. Boris Yeltsin acknowledged in 1996 when signing a peace treaty with Chechnya during the First Chechen War that the war was a tragedy whose responsibility lies with Russia.

Holiday

In 1990, the Circassians designated 21 May as the Day of Mourning for their people, on which they commemorate the tragedy of the nation. It is memorable and non-working day in the three republics of the Russian Federation (Adygea, Kabardino-Balkaria and Karachay-Cherkessia) as well as in the Circassian villages of the Krasnodar Krai. The government of the partially recognized Republic of Abkhazia also mourns the day of mourning on May 21 (until 2011, it was mourned on May 31).

The day is also widely mourned with rallies and processions in countries with a large Circassian diaspora, such as Turkey, Germany, United States, Jordan and other countries of the Middle East.

Source: Wikipedia

The Russo-Circassian War (Adyghe: Урыс-адыгэ зауэ, romanized: Wurıs-adığə zawə; Russian: Русско-черкесская война; 1763–1864; also known as the Russian invasion of Circassia) was the invasion of Circassia by Russia, starting in July 17, 1763 (O.S) with the Russian Empire assuming authority in Circassia, followed by the Circassian refusal, ending 101 years later with the last army of Circassia defeated on 21 May 1864 (O.S), making it exhausting and casualty-heavy for both sides. The Circassians fought the Russians longer than all the other peoples of the Caucasus, and the Russo-Circassian War was the longest war both Russia and Circassia have ever fought.

During and after the war, the Russian Empire employed a genocidal strategy of systematically massacring civilians which resulted in the Circassian genocide where up to 2,000,000 Circassians (85-97% of the total population) were either killed or expelled to the Ottoman Empire (especially to modern-day Turkey; see Circassians in Turkey), creating the Circassian diaspora. While the war was initially an isolated conflict, Russian expansion through the entire region soon drew a number of other nations in the Caucasus into the conflict. As such, the war is often considered the western half of the Caucasus War.

During the war, the Russian Empire did not recognize Circassia as an independent region, and as a result, it considered Circassia Russian land which was under rebel occupation, despite the fact that the region was not and had never been under Russian control. Russian generals did not refer to the Circassians by their ethnic name, instead, they called the Circassians “mountaineers”, “bandits”, and “mountain scum”. The war has been subjected to historical revisionism and it has also garnered controversy due to the fact that later Russian sources mostly ignored or belittled the conflict, and Russian state media and officials have gone as far as to claim that the conflict “never happened” and they have also claimed that Circassia “voluntarily joined Russia in the 16th century”.

[…]

Source: Wikipedia

May 21 marks the Circassian Day of Mourning, a time of remembrance for the victims of the Russo-Circassian War.

In 1864, the Caucasian War ended on this day. The Russian Empire held a prayer service and celebrated the victory. For Circassians this war ended in tragedy: the loss of independence, mass extermination of the population, eviction to the Ottoman Empire, Syria and other countries, the breakdown of the social system, and a colossal trauma.

For Circassians May 21 is more than just a sad date, and the Russo-Circassian War is not a thing of the past. These events still determine our reality. What the official Russian historical science interprets as a military-political conflict or even the pacification of a troubled region, Circassians perceive as genocide.

The events of 1864 and the subsequent colonization of the former Circassia and the North Caucasus remain an acute problem that official authorities ignore.

One can re-read the texts for our releases on May 21 or the posts we have made in past years. They are all relevant and can be reproduced again and again. There are no shifts or new trends in Russian society or the official political course.

There are also alarming signs that discourse is being further constricted. In 2020 and 2021, the traditional mourning procession in Nalchik was canceled due to the pandemic. The Circassian public accepted the extraordinary circumstances, and it did not cause any indignation.

In 2022, the rally was canceled again for strange reasons. The authorities of Kabardino-Balkaria did not clarify them, and the International Circassian Association referred to “difficult times” and “the situation with the special operation in Ukraine”.

The Circassian community was outraged by the absurdity of these statements. And so were we.

Initially, we did not plan to release an album, but make a post about grief and memory. On May 17, we learned that the main Circassian symbolic event in our hometown was canceled. Yes, there will be a minute of silence and other mourning events, but there will be no main unifying procession in which Circassians of different views, confessions, and political orientation stand shoulder to shoulder to make a peaceful democratic statement.

And we decided to record and publish an album with songs of the Russo-Circassian War.

This is our traditional way of memorizing the past, a call for working with heritage and defending our subjectivity. We believe that problems need to be discussed and solved together, and not put off until better times. Otherwise, these better times will never come.

The songs on this album are war and mourning ballads of those who fought for their independence. For us, this is also an anti-militaristic statement, since all this music is set against repression and aggression.

Circassians, who have suffered from imperialism, must understand that colonial optics and repressive methods are unacceptable against any other groups of people, small or large. Every group or community has the right to determine its future.

Jrpjej:
Timur Kodzoko — guitar, shichepshin, vocals
Alan Shawdjan — vocals, accordion
Daiana Kulova — vocals, shichepshin, percussion

Guest singers:
Zaurbek Kozh
Zaur Nagoy

Sound recording: Timur Kodzoko
Sound editing, mixing: Timur Kodzokov
Cover photo: Elina Karaeva
Cover design: Milana Khalilova
Text: Bulat Khalilov and Bella Mirzoeva
Recorded on May 20-21, 2022
Recording location: Dom Radio, Nalchik, Kabardino-Balkaria

Except “Тыгъужъыкъо Къызбэч,” recorded by Daan Duurland at Katzwijm Studio, Netherlands, November 2021.

NB. This entry was updated on 22 May 2023. ||| ••• TRR •••

Lenin Is on Our Side

A military youth band plays outside the former Lenin Apartment Museum on Cossack Alley in Petersburg as a local hipster documents the happening, 22 April 2023. Photo by PZ, who kindly gave me permission to reproduce it here.

The Raznochintsy Petersburg Memorial Museum tells the story of downmarket Petersburg.

In pre-revolutionary Russia, the raznochintsy were people whose social status did not strictly conform to the notions of “hereditary nobleman” or “eminent merchant.” Minor clerks, retired soldiers, servants of various stripes, laborers and, of course, students and other intellectual workers lived in neighborhoods remote from Nevsky Prospect.

The museum traces its roots back to 1924.

Cossack Lane has been home to a memorial address since 1924. Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov (Lenin) lived here from February 12, 1894 to April 25, 1895, and after his death, residents of the neighboring buildings established “Ilyich’s Corner” on the street.

In 1938, Ilyich’s Corner was turned into the V.I. Ulyanov Apartment Museum, part of the Leningrad branch of the Central Museum of Lenin. In 1992, the mayor of St. Petersburg ordered that the museum be preserved as as a historical landmark. It was granted the status of a state museum under the jurisdiction of the Lenin District (later, the Admiralty District) of St. Petersburg and became known as the Museum of the History of the Revolutionary Democratic Movement of the 1880s and 1890s.

In September 2003, by order of St. Petersburg city hall, the museum was transferred to the jurisdiction of the St. Petersburg Culture Committee. In 2006, in connection with the opening of a new permanent exposition, Around the Semyonovsky Regimental Parade Ground, the museum was given its current name — the Raznochintsy Petersburg Memorial Museum

“The film is dedicated to the tenth anniversary of our museum and the opening of the exhibition ‘The Old House’s Story.'” Raznochintsy Petersburg (YouTube), October 28, 2016

Source: Raznochintsy Petersburg Memorial Museum. Translated by the Russian Reader, who remembers the museum fondly, especially Lenin’s apartment.

“Motherland, Come Home”

DDT frontman Yuri Shevchuk has released the video “Motherland, Come Home.” In the new single, he calls on his country to stop the war and go about its own business. The video was shot by Shevchuk in collaboration with producer and composer Dmitry Yemelyanov.

Yuri Shevchuk wrote the poem “Motherland, Come Home” in the summer of 2022, a few months after Russia had launched its invasion of Ukraine. In the run-up to the invasion’s anniversary, the rocker set it to music and recorded the song. “Don’t go crazy, this is not your war,” Shevchuk urges listeners.

Yuri Shevchuk & Dmitry Yemelyanov, “Motherland, Come Home”

Shevchuk has repeatedly spoken out against the war in Ukraine. He has consistently taken a pacifist stance and opposed all wars, including the military operations in Chechnya, South Ossetia, and anywhere else in the world.

In 2022, Shevchuk was fined fifty thousand rubles after he was found guilty of “discrediting” the actions of the Russian army. The occasion for the fine was an anti-war statement he made in May at a concert in Ufa. After the outbreak of the war in Ukraine, concerts by his band, DDT, in Russia have often been postponed or canceled “due to technical difficulties.”

In the summer of 2022, the media reported the existence of a list of “banned” Russian artists who had opposed the war in Ukraine, including the bands DDT, B2, Aquarium, and Pornofilms, the rappers Face and Oxxxymiron, and the solo performers Zemfira, Monetochka, and Vasya Oblomov. There were more than fifty names on the list. Many of the musicians have already faced the cancellation of concerts, and some have been designated “foreign agents” by the Russian Justice Ministry.

Source: “Yuri Shevchuk releases anti-war video ‘Motherland, Come Home,'” Radio Svoboda, 19 February 2023. Translated by the TRR. Thanks to Kerstin Nickig for the heads-up.

Никотиновый вдох,
Распальцованный взгляд,
Я ещё не подох,
Ещё мои шланги горят.

A nicotine breath,
A swaggering look,
I’m not dead yet,
My hoses are still on fire.

Этой лютой весной
Суета с тишиной
Пульс неровный несут.
Пульс неровный несут
Моё сердце на суд.

This fierce spring
Helter-skelter and silence,
The pulse is uneven.
The pulse is uneven
My heart is on trial.

Опустело село,
Пьёт Рязань из Днепра,
От венков расцвело,
В рыжей глине – дыра.

The village is deserted,
Ryazan drinks from the Dnieper,
The wreaths have burst into blossom,
There is a hole in the red clay.

Маята, как сорняк
Телевизор в печи,
У державы стояк.
У державы стояк,
Воют бабы в ночи.

The torment is like a weed
The TV’s like a furnace,
The empire has a boner.
The empire has a boner,
Women howl in the night.

Тёмен век мой.
Господи, как всё случилось?
Рваный лик твой –
Укололась и забылась.
Не сходи с ума,
Это не твоя война.
Ждут грачи в полях весной.
Родина, вернись домой!

My age is dark.
My God, how did it happen?
Your ragged face,
Pricked and forgotten.
Don’t go crazy,
This is not your war.
Rooks wait in the fields in spring.
Motherland, come home!

Безнадёги иной
Я не переживал,
Коллективной виной –
Сделал шаг и пропал.

Other doom and gloom
Didn’t bother me,
But with collective guilt
I took a step and went MIA.

Давит воздух густой,
Но тебя не забыть,
Мертвецов напоить.
Мертвецов напоить
Родниковой водой.

The air is thick,
But I can’t forget you,
Get the dead drunk.
Get the dead drunk
On spring water.

Голоса белены
Тянут мысль одну:
Ты вернёшься с войны,
Вновь попасть на войну.

Voices are faded white
They dredge up one thought:
You’ll come back from the war
To go to war again.

И летят облака,
Разбиваясь в дали,
О крутые бока
Нашей плоской Земли.

And the clouds are flying,
Crashing in the distance
On the craggy sides
Of our flat Earth.

My age is dark.
My God, how did it happen?
Your ragged face,
Pricked and forgotten.
Don’t go crazy,
This is not your war.
Rooks wait in the fields in spring.
Motherland, come home!

Source: Yuri Shevchuk & DDT, “Motherland, Come Home,” Reproduktor. Translated by the Russian Reader

Found archival photo of a Young Pioneer on Mozhaiskaya Street in Leningrad, 1982.
Thanks to VG for posting this find on their now-locked Facebook page

“A Calendar of Revolutionary Names. April: Arlen (“Army of Lenin”), Vilenin (“V.I. Lenin”), Viulen (“V.I. Ulyanov-Lenin”), Lublen (“Love Lenin”), Marenlenst (“Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin”), Motvil (“We’re from V.I. Lenin”), etc.

Source: Sergey Abashin (Facebook), 18 February 2023. He took this snapshot at the Sergei Kirov Museum in St. Petersburg.

VICE News (YouTube), “Nationalism or Nothing: Life in Modern Russia,” 10 Feburary 2023: “President Vladimir Putin’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine, has led to a tightening of dictatorial powers within Russia. Free-speech is virtually non-existent and the public realm is now dominated by outspoken nationalists, who want more war, not less.” Thanks to Marxmail for the heads-up

Made in Noviny: Songs of Golendra People from Siberia

The Golendras (Olendry, Holendry) of Siberia are a unique people. They originate from Germany or even Holland, to which their name alludes. In former times they lived in Poland, eventually ending up in the western part of the Russian Empire — approximately where the borders of Poland, Belarus and Ukraine now meet, near the Western Bug River.

The Golendras are Lutherans by religion, their prayer book is in Polish and they have German surnames. They adopted a mixture of Polish, Ukrainian and Belarusian as their language. Their songs are sung in this dialect. During the Stolypin agrarian reforms, a part of the Golendras moved to the Irkutsk Region in Siberia, where they founded settlements — Zamusteche (Zamóstecze, whose modern name is Pikhtinsky), Novyny (Nowyny, whose modern name is Srednepikhtinsky) and Dagnik (its name has not changed).

Kvitochka (Kwitoczka, “Little Flower”) Ensemble emerged in 2005 at the Srednepikhtinsky House of Culture. It has the status of a family band, since all the participants are relatives to various degrees.

The ensemble members (on the album cover photo from left to right):

1. Nina Kunz
2. Valentina Zelent
3. Irina Prokopyeva
4. Larisa Bendik
5. Svetlana Ludwig
6. Olga Kunz
7. Elena Vas. Ludwig
8. Vera Kunz
9. Elena Vlad. Ludwig (leader)
10. Natalya Ludwig

The original song titles are given in their Polish spelling.

The names of the older generation people, thanks to whom these songs have been preserved: Emma Pastrik, Anelia Gildebrant, Alvina Zelent, Natalya Kunz, Zuzanna Ludwig, Elizaveta Gildebrant, Adolf Kunz, Alvina Kunz, Bronislava Ludwig, Ivan Zelent.

Recorded at the Srednepikhtinsky House of Culture on July 7, 2022, except for tracks 1 and 26, which were recorded in Dagnik on July 8, 2022, and performed by Anatoly Ludwig.

Thanks to Elena Ludwig, the whole ensemble, Lyudmila Gerda, Natalya Dmitrieva, Lyubov Vasilchenko, and Iwan Strutynski.

Source: Antonovka Records (Facebook), 17 February 2023. I have lightly edited the original liner notes for clarity and readability. ||| TRR

THE BAIKAL DUTCH: WHO ARE THEY?

A people called the Golendry (translated presumably as “Hollanders,” “Dutch”) has been living in the remote Siberian taiga for more than a century. The people speaks a mix of Belarusian and Ukrainian, prays in Polish, and has German surnames. They live in the Zalari District of Irkutsk Region and are a true cultural phenomenon. Key to Baikal will tell you what kind of people they are and how they got here.

The History of the Golendry

Several dozen families of Golendry moved to Siberia from the Bug River basin at the beginning of the 20th century, during Stolypin’s agrarian reforms. Back then, the place of the people’s residence was a part of the Russian Empire, but now the territory encompasses the borderlands of Belarus, Ukraine and Poland. There are two explanations of the origins of the word golendry. This term emerged in the early seventeenth century: the Dutch identified themselves in similar fashion (hollandi in Latin). The other explanation is based on the word gautland, meaning a developed land (paseka in Polish), a settlement on deforested land, established by colonists who were called golendry (that is, “stumpers” or “woodcutters,” not “Dutch”). The researcher Eduard Byutov came up with a serious argument against the second explanation, saying that these people were the members of a Dutch community living under “Dutch law” and observing Dutch culture. Byutov emphasized the fact that, in medieval Poland, the social stratum of peasants were called golendry (olendry), and the settlers possessed a special social and legal status. Thus, the term olendry is derived from a lexeme with the same meaning as the ethnonym for “Dutch” in Polish. It was used to designate a special social group of mixed ethnic composition.

Perhaps the truth is somewhere in the middle, because the term golendry never served to designate any particular ethnic group. From the very beginning it meant a special social group of mixed ethnic composition. Nevertheless, the ethnic composition of this social group evidently included the Dutch, because many of their cultural elements point tto this.

By the beginning of the twentieth century the Golendry had retained their distinctive identity, which differed from neighboring peoples: despite the fact that they spoke local dialects, their religion was different from the surrounding population. They were Lutherans, unlike the Catholic Poles and the Orthodox Belarusians and Ukrainians.

A part of the Golendry migrated to Siberia, primarily due to the lack of land. The settlers gave old names to their new places of residence: Zamusteche, Novyna and Dakhny, in memory of those times when they lived on the Bug. The villages were renamed in Soviet times (now they are known as Pikhtinsk, Srednepikhtinsk and Dagnik).

It is curious that no one was particularly interested in the Pikhtinsk Golendry before the early 1990s. Only in the 1930s and during the Great Patriotic War did their obviously German names and surnames attract the attention of state authorities, which led to certain consequences. Luckily, however, the Golendry were not deported (because they already lived in the taiga) and were not shot. During peacetime, the Golendry were little different from other Soviet people, except that the two Pikhtinsk collective farms consistently produced high yields, year after year. In the 1970s they were doing so well that former residents of Pikhtinsk returned to their native villages from the cities: they built a branch of a clothing factory, a bakery, and a post office there. There were three large elementary schools for the three villages, a rural medical station, shops, and a kindergarten. After perestroika, their prosperity came to an end, however, and the residents of Pikhtinsk once again moved back to the cities. Nowadays, the number of people registered in the villages is larger than that of people actually living there, and the number of inhabitants of these settlements decreases every year.

Фото — “The Home of the Golender Gimborg, 1912”

Emptying villages are a widespread phenomenon in Russia, with only one difference: the Golendry are famous now; they will not disappear into obscurity. By the way, the Golendry were “discovered” by scholars by pure accident, thanks to their houses. In 1993-1994, the Irkutsk Central Commission for the Preservation of Historical and Cultural Heritage visited these remote taiga villages and paid due attention to the unconventional architecture of the buildings in Pikhtinsk, Srednepikhtinsk and Dagnik. The architecture entailed an exploration of the rest of their culture, and the Golendry were declared a “sensation.”

Customs and traditions

Two museums were established in Srednepikhtinsk: these let people have a look inside a real Golendry house without disturbing their personal space. According to the Lutheran faith of the Golendry, they worship in Polish using the Bible and prayer books. The old people are more religious, while the young people are less so: the situation is common today. So, the holy books in Polish, exhibited in the museums, are now read only by old people, and even not all of those old people can read them. It is curious that the Golendry use the Julian calendar, just like Orthodox people.

The Lutheran Golendry do not have a tradition of regularly visiting cemeteries and taking care of graves. However, the Russian traditions have gradually come to predominate: elaborate headstones have been erected on some graves of the Pikhtinsk Golendry, and the relatives of the deceased can sometimes be seen at the cemetery. Nevertheless, you should not go to the cemetery of the Golendry out of idle curiosity: the residents of Pikhtinsk hate it when someone disturbs the peace of the dead.

The Lutheran Golendry never had any churches of their own in Siberia. They prayed at home in the old days, and still do so now. There is a Lutheran prayer hall in Irkutsk, and the local pastor periodically visits the residents of Pikhtinsk. However, the main rite — baptism — is conducted not by a pastor, but by a local resident. The residents of Pikhtinsk themselves find it difficult to answer why they chose that person exactly. Most likely, because he is a pious man and is respected by everyone. In addition, waiting for the pastor to come or taking the babies to Irkutsk is simply inconvenient.

The museums illustrate the wedding ceremony in great detail: The Golendry still celebrate their weddings in keeping with the old traditions. A cap, the most memorable detail of the local women’s attire, is also associated with the wedding. Women wear a cap instead of a veil on the second day of marriage. There is also a tradition of burying women with their cap on. During the rest of the time the capes are no longer worn, except that they can be worn for tourists.

If you want to get acquainted with the life and traditions of the Golendry, you will have to drive almost 300 kilometers from Irkutsk, or take a train to Zalari Station and then travel the remaining 93 kilometers to Srednepikhtinsk. After this people was “discovered,” it became much easier to get to the places where it resides, but one should book a tour and overnight stay in advance.

Source: Key to Baikal. I have edited the original article for clarity and readability. ||| TRR

Speak Speech, Speaker (The Imperialist Mindset)

One day, I hope, someone will explain to me why “progressive” Russians find the English words speak, speaker, speech, etc., so sexy and exciting that they have to incorporate them needlessly into Russian every chance they get.

Do they know that, in English, these words are less evocative than three-day-old bread, duller than dishwater?

In this case, hilariously (and awkwardly, too: “speak” appears after chas, generating an awkward phrase that translates as “hour of speak” or “speak hour,” although it’s supposed to be a play on the idiomatic phrase chas pik, meaning “rush hour”), the word “speak” adorns Sergei Medvedev’s reflections on the “imperialist mindset.”

Indeed.

Thanks to TP for this gem of Rusglish.

Below, you can watch the actual interview (in Russian, not Rusglish — well, almost), which, if for no other reason, is interesting because it was posted almost three months before Russia invaded Ukraine. ||| TRR

Historian and writer Sergei Medvedev is the program’s guest.

In an interview with Nikita Rudakov, he explained:

Why the idea of Russia’s “civilizational superiority” is so popular

Why propaganda encourages the ideological complexes of Russians

How the elite of the 2000s is trying to turn back history.

00:00 Chas Speak: Sergei Medvedev 01:40 The imperialist mindset and the idea of Russia’s greatness 06:10 Is there no place for nationalism in the imperialist mindset? 08:05 “Russia colonized itself” 14:03 The superiority of big ideas: why didn’t the USA become an empire? 21:02 The ideological complexes of Russians 25:41 “We rise from our knees via military achievements and parades on Red Square” 26:50 “Lukashenko does with us what he will”: Russia and Belarus 30:56 “Russia wants to live in the myth of 1945” 34:40 “We were unable to create a nation state”

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Source: “Sergei Medvedev: ‘We don’t have a state. We only have an imperialist format’ // Chas Speak,” RTVI Entertainment (YouTube), 9 December 2022. Annotation translated by Thomas Campbell