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The Future Is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia
The essential journalist and bestselling biographer of Vladimir Putin reveals how, in the space of a generation, Russia surrendered to a more virulent and invincible new strain of autocracy.
Award-winning journalist Masha Gessen’s understanding of the events and forces that have wracked Russia in recent times is unparalleled. In The Future Is History, Gessen follows the lives of four people born at what promised to be the dawn of democracy. Each of them came of age with unprecedented expectations, some as the children and grandchildren of the very architects of the new Russia, each with newfound aspirations of their own–as entrepreneurs, activists, thinkers, and writers, sexual and social beings.
Gessen charts their paths against the machinations of the regime that would crush them all, and against the war it waged on understanding itself, which ensured the unobstructed reemergence of the old Soviet order in the form of today’s terrifying and seemingly unstoppable mafia state. Powerful and urgent, The Future Is History is a cautionary tale for our time and for all time.
Award-winning journalist Masha Gessen’s understanding of the events and forces that have wracked Russia in recent times is unparalleled. In The Future Is History, Gessen follows the lives of four people born at what promised to be the dawn of democracy. Each of them came of age with unprecedented expectations, some as the children and grandchildren of the very architects of the new Russia, each with newfound aspirations of their own–as entrepreneurs, activists, thinkers, and writers, sexual and social beings.
Gessen charts their paths against the machinations of the regime that would crush them all, and against the war it waged on understanding itself, which ensured the unobstructed reemergence of the old Soviet order in the form of today’s terrifying and seemingly unstoppable mafia state. Powerful and urgent, The Future Is History is a cautionary tale for our time and for all time.
515 pages, Hardcover
First published October 3, 2017
About the author
Masha Gessen
27 books1,150 followersMasha Gessen (born 1967) is an American-Russian journalist, translator, and nonfiction author. They identify as non-binary and use they/them pronouns.
Born into an Ashkenazi Jewish family in Russia, in 1981 they moved with their family to the United States to escape anti-Semitism. They returned in 1991 to Moscow, where they worked as a journalist, and covered Russian military activities during the Chechen Wars. In 2013, they were publicly threatened by prominent Russian politicians for their political activism and were forced to leave Russia for the United States.
They write in both Russian and English, and has contributed to The New Republic, New Statesman, Granta and Slate. Gessen is a staff writer at The New Yorker, covering international politics, Russia, LGBT rights, and gender issues.
Born into an Ashkenazi Jewish family in Russia, in 1981 they moved with their family to the United States to escape anti-Semitism. They returned in 1991 to Moscow, where they worked as a journalist, and covered Russian military activities during the Chechen Wars. In 2013, they were publicly threatened by prominent Russian politicians for their political activism and were forced to leave Russia for the United States.
They write in both Russian and English, and has contributed to The New Republic, New Statesman, Granta and Slate. Gessen is a staff writer at The New Yorker, covering international politics, Russia, LGBT rights, and gender issues.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 886 reviews
March 21, 2018
Bias on top of bias on top of bias.
I feel about this book the way I felt about The Bronze Horseman. It is clearly written by an emigrant from Russia who hates EVERYTHING about Russia. There is no attempt to be objective here, vitriol in every sentence, where even the most innocuous things are described as depressing and dire and BAD - free, government sponsored, mind you, preschools portrayed as a "cross between baby prisons and warehouses" - really? how did we all make it then after attending them? this is just one of the most ridiculous exaggerations. My memories of my standard preschool include playing a lot outside, eating and taking naps and doing arts and learning songs and dancing and going to the beach!
Well, I guess this is how Masha Gessen is making her name in the West. She can come up with ridiculously convoluted theories of why Russians welcome and love Putin (homo soveticus my ass), but the reality is simple - not many Russians could make it in a cut-throat, unregulated post-perestroika capitalist Russia, including my parents who could barely keep it together in the new "free market." Is this so hard to comprehend that majority wanted to go back to the time of paltry, but guaranteed income, free medical services and quality education? They thought Putin would bring back the, often imagined, rosy past, and they still think the same way now!
Read Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets for something more balanced, a criticism with a perspective and understanding.
I feel about this book the way I felt about The Bronze Horseman. It is clearly written by an emigrant from Russia who hates EVERYTHING about Russia. There is no attempt to be objective here, vitriol in every sentence, where even the most innocuous things are described as depressing and dire and BAD - free, government sponsored, mind you, preschools portrayed as a "cross between baby prisons and warehouses" - really? how did we all make it then after attending them? this is just one of the most ridiculous exaggerations. My memories of my standard preschool include playing a lot outside, eating and taking naps and doing arts and learning songs and dancing and going to the beach!
Well, I guess this is how Masha Gessen is making her name in the West. She can come up with ridiculously convoluted theories of why Russians welcome and love Putin (homo soveticus my ass), but the reality is simple - not many Russians could make it in a cut-throat, unregulated post-perestroika capitalist Russia, including my parents who could barely keep it together in the new "free market." Is this so hard to comprehend that majority wanted to go back to the time of paltry, but guaranteed income, free medical services and quality education? They thought Putin would bring back the, often imagined, rosy past, and they still think the same way now!
Read Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets for something more balanced, a criticism with a perspective and understanding.
December 23, 2017
4 stars for the content and 3 stars for the audio.
In The Future Is History, Masha Gessen looks at Russia since the mid 1980s to today. It's not a pretty picture. She focuses on three young people born in the mid-1980s, from different backgrounds. She weaves in a lot of history and political theory. She essentially argues that contemporary Russia is under a totalitarian regime, zeroing on themes like the lack of true elections and state sanctioned homophobia.
For anyone interested in recent Russian history and contemporary politics, Gessen's book is very rich. It has a real human dimension, while providing a lot of deeper political and historical context. Gessen herself is originally from Russia, so it also feels like her book comes from a place of deep understanding. This is a sympathetic portrait of people living in difficult circumstances.
But because there is so much to this book, I really don't recommend the audio. It was sometimes hard to keep track of people and events. Also Gessen narrates this one herself, and she reads very fast in a bit of an odd staccato voice.
Great book for those interested in the topic. But read it, don't listen to it.
In The Future Is History, Masha Gessen looks at Russia since the mid 1980s to today. It's not a pretty picture. She focuses on three young people born in the mid-1980s, from different backgrounds. She weaves in a lot of history and political theory. She essentially argues that contemporary Russia is under a totalitarian regime, zeroing on themes like the lack of true elections and state sanctioned homophobia.
For anyone interested in recent Russian history and contemporary politics, Gessen's book is very rich. It has a real human dimension, while providing a lot of deeper political and historical context. Gessen herself is originally from Russia, so it also feels like her book comes from a place of deep understanding. This is a sympathetic portrait of people living in difficult circumstances.
But because there is so much to this book, I really don't recommend the audio. It was sometimes hard to keep track of people and events. Also Gessen narrates this one herself, and she reads very fast in a bit of an odd staccato voice.
Great book for those interested in the topic. But read it, don't listen to it.
October 16, 2021
The slow transition from one form to another: We see this process, this morphing, through the lives of several individuals - professionals in the 1970/80s USSR, and children born under Soviet control - who witness the shifts through each decade of their lives, and the paths they each take into adulthood.
Gessen is an artful researcher and interviewer. They share the lives subjects without judgement, reserving criticisms for the government (there is a lengthy discussion on how to define the modern Russian state - authoritarian, totalitarian, illiberal democracy, etc), but bears these out with the systematic abuses of power and human rights violations, and how they affect the lives of all subjects.
We trace the days of Gorbachev and perestroika, through the "fall", and rise of Yeltsin, and finally the long tenure of Putin, as it plays out to 2016, and there's been more since. She spends chapters on Ukraine and the Orange Revolution, the protests in 2010 (and on), the dissidence of Pussy Riot and other activists, and the encroachment in Crimea (including a short history of the region and the various ethnic cleansings that took place there in the over the last century.) Perhaps the most interesting thing that Gessen shows is the mental state and health of a country (or several countries, as former Soviet states now stand independent) and how hopelessness, depression, and anxiety are used as control measures.
I will be chewing on this one for a long while. It is a dense read ~500 pages, interspersing history and politics with personal stories, and one of the most important and prescient books that I have read in years.
Gessen is a top-tier writer, and I want to return to their work very soon.
Gessen is an artful researcher and interviewer. They share the lives subjects without judgement, reserving criticisms for the government (there is a lengthy discussion on how to define the modern Russian state - authoritarian, totalitarian, illiberal democracy, etc), but bears these out with the systematic abuses of power and human rights violations, and how they affect the lives of all subjects.
We trace the days of Gorbachev and perestroika, through the "fall", and rise of Yeltsin, and finally the long tenure of Putin, as it plays out to 2016, and there's been more since. She spends chapters on Ukraine and the Orange Revolution, the protests in 2010 (and on), the dissidence of Pussy Riot and other activists, and the encroachment in Crimea (including a short history of the region and the various ethnic cleansings that took place there in the over the last century.) Perhaps the most interesting thing that Gessen shows is the mental state and health of a country (or several countries, as former Soviet states now stand independent) and how hopelessness, depression, and anxiety are used as control measures.
I will be chewing on this one for a long while. It is a dense read ~500 pages, interspersing history and politics with personal stories, and one of the most important and prescient books that I have read in years.
Gessen is a top-tier writer, and I want to return to their work very soon.
Want to read
March 10, 2022I refuse to believe that our common future is already history, but I feel like to make a future for my continent happen, we all need to get as many facts as possible and join the public conversation.
December 8, 2017
One of the most stunningly brilliant books I have read this year. If you are interested in Russia, Putinism, and the depth psychology of totalitarianism, you will find this book fascinating. Gessen is utterly brilliant.
May 5, 2017
Admittedly this book took me longer to read than most I've read in the last year – it's because there's at least five books with in this one!
The quality of journalism, paired with the incredible insight to the timelines of the USSR are unprecedented.
Masha's reporting illustrates far more than the growth of a totalitarian culture – it gives you the personal, socioeconomic, mental 1984-like capacity, and so much more that all comes along with it!
I just hope she keeps writing~
The quality of journalism, paired with the incredible insight to the timelines of the USSR are unprecedented.
Masha's reporting illustrates far more than the growth of a totalitarian culture – it gives you the personal, socioeconomic, mental 1984-like capacity, and so much more that all comes along with it!
I just hope she keeps writing~
August 21, 2022
Nem olvastam még olyan könyvet, ami ilyen erővel volt képes ábrázolni azt az erjedést, ami a putyinista Oroszország kialakulásáig vezetett. Gessen módszerének lényege, hogy a legújabb kori történelmi szakmunkák és politikatudományi olvasókönyvek információgazdagságát ötvözi a családregények személyességével és lendületével. Olyan (valós) egyéneket választ ki, akik képesek reflektálni saját környezetük átalakulására, ellenzékieket, tudósokat és üzletembereket emel be a szövegbe, hogy az ő tapasztalataikon keresztül kerüljön közelebb a "Mi a franc történt Oroszhonban?" rejtély feloldásához. A végeredmény fél tucat kompakt családtörténet, amelyek egyenként is megérdemelnének egy nagyregényt, és amelyeket Gessen folyamatosan társadalomtörténeti, politikatörténeti és tömegpszichológiai szempontból kommentál.
A történet már a Szovjetunió regnálása alatt elkezdődik: a Sztálin halálát követő időszakban a rendszer relatív enyhülések és befeszülések ütemes váltogatásával tesztelte a szocialista társadalom szakítószilárdságát. Sztálint Hruscsov követte, Hruscsovot Brezsnyev, és így tovább, amíg el nem érkeztünk Gorbacsovig és Jelcinig, akik (akaratuk ellenére) asszisztáltak a Szovjetunió összeomlásához. Ez az időszak zűrzavaros volt, maguk a politikai aktorok sem tudták, mi is történik éppen - nem csoda, ha maga az állampolgár majd eszét vesztette a bizonytalanságtól, és úgy égett bele tudatába a periódus, mint a káosz és talajvesztettség kora. Nem csak arról volt szó, hogy a "homo szovjetikuszt"* a munkanélküliség és a totális elszegényedés veszélyeztette ekkor, de identitása is megkérdőjeleződött. Addig világos volt, hogy ha állampolgári jogai nem is teljeskörűek, de egy hatalmas birodalom része, és ebben a minőségében a világpolitika megkerülhetetlen szereplője. Ez utóbbi megszűnni látszott, ugyanakkor nem érzékelte, hogy cserébe kapott volna valamit - úgy tűnt, az állampolgári jogokból csak a társadalom egy része, az oligarchák részesültek. És mivel ez az állampolgár sosem tapasztalta meg, milyen egy normálisan működő demokrácia, az országában eluralkodó torz közállapotokat azonosította a liberalizmussal - és elkezdett visszavágyni egy autoriter rendszerbe. Putyin pedig jött, és betöltötte az "erős vezető" üresen maradt ökológiai fülkéjét.
("Tessék, Vlagyimir. Itt van ez az ország. Tedd magadévá.")
Ezek a polgárok Eric Fromm definícióját alapul véve "tekintélyelvű személyiségként" írhatóak le. Olyan emberek ők, akik a mások szabadságától jobban félnek, mint amennyire óhajtják saját személyes szabadságukat - következésképpen hajlandóak alávetni magukat egy olyan vezetőnek, aki a stabilitásért** és némi életszínvonal-növekedésért cserébe igényt tart állampolgári jogaik egy részére. Sőt, ami a slusszpoén: még az életszínvonal-növekedéstől is hajlamosak eltekinteni. A putyinizmus egyik legriasztóbb tapasztalata ugyanis éppen az, hogy a gazdasági mélyrepülés együtt járhat a vezér népszerűségének növekedésével. Ez történt például 2014 után, amikor a Krím "repatriálásának" mámora teljesen elfedte azt a tényt, hogy az orosz gazdaság elkezdett beleállni a földbe. Talán mert annak, akinek nincs semmije, még nagyobb szüksége van arra, hogy legalább a nemzeti közösséghez tartozáson keresztül sikerélményekben legyen része. Ebben az általános mentális állapotban a hatalmon nincsen fék, és beindul az, amit Szolzsenyicin "vörös keréknek" nevez: a hatóságok azon hozzáállásáról van szó, miszerint amit elkezdtünk, be kell fejezni, ha pedig ellenállást érzékelünk, azon át kell gázolni. A kompromisszum a gyengeség jele, a tárgyalás és egyeztetés a haldokló Nyugat trükkje, mákony, távol áll az orosz néplélektől. Úgyhogy menjünk csak előre erőből, mint a tank.
Végtelenül keserű kötet - keserűsége jobbára abból fakad, hogy szereplői pontosan érzékelik, merre tart Oroszország, de képtelenek arra, hogy ezzel a tudással megváltoztassák a folyamat irányát. Küzdenek, vergődnek, de bedarálja őket a "vörös kerék". Premier plánban végignézik, ahogy a hatalom szisztematikusan felerősíti a társadalom önpusztító ösztöneit, és végül ellenük fordítja a saját hazájukat. Ha Gessler nem történelmet írna, hanem irodalmat, lehetősége lenne valamiféle happy enddel megajándékozni sokat próbált szereplőit - de itt legjobb esetben is csak a szerencsés elmenekülést dokumentálhatja. Mert ha a "vörös kerék" beindul, akkor már régen rossz. Talán az a legokosabb, ha eleve nem engedjük, hogy elkezdjen forogni.
* A "homo szovjetikusz" a Szovjetunióval foglalkozó társadalomtörténet egyik kulcsszava. Olyan embert jelöl, akinek egyik legfőbb jellemzője a "kettős gondolkodás" - képes akár egymással teljesen ellentétes állításokat is elhinni és vallani, mégpedig nem számításból, hanem őszintén azonosulva azok tartalmával. Ez voltaképpen egyfajta túlélési stratégia, amire a totalitárius állam körülményei kondicionálják az egyént.
** Az autoriter államok stabilitása azonban valójában csak mítosz. Hisz amíg a liberális demokráciában lehet arra számítani, hogy a törvények holnap és holnapután is biztosítják az ismert körülményeket, addig a diktatúrában a vezető személyes elképzelései egyik napról a másikra új helyzetet teremthetnek, ami lehetetlenné teszi az egyén számára saját jövője megtervezését.
A történet már a Szovjetunió regnálása alatt elkezdődik: a Sztálin halálát követő időszakban a rendszer relatív enyhülések és befeszülések ütemes váltogatásával tesztelte a szocialista társadalom szakítószilárdságát. Sztálint Hruscsov követte, Hruscsovot Brezsnyev, és így tovább, amíg el nem érkeztünk Gorbacsovig és Jelcinig, akik (akaratuk ellenére) asszisztáltak a Szovjetunió összeomlásához. Ez az időszak zűrzavaros volt, maguk a politikai aktorok sem tudták, mi is történik éppen - nem csoda, ha maga az állampolgár majd eszét vesztette a bizonytalanságtól, és úgy égett bele tudatába a periódus, mint a káosz és talajvesztettség kora. Nem csak arról volt szó, hogy a "homo szovjetikuszt"* a munkanélküliség és a totális elszegényedés veszélyeztette ekkor, de identitása is megkérdőjeleződött. Addig világos volt, hogy ha állampolgári jogai nem is teljeskörűek, de egy hatalmas birodalom része, és ebben a minőségében a világpolitika megkerülhetetlen szereplője. Ez utóbbi megszűnni látszott, ugyanakkor nem érzékelte, hogy cserébe kapott volna valamit - úgy tűnt, az állampolgári jogokból csak a társadalom egy része, az oligarchák részesültek. És mivel ez az állampolgár sosem tapasztalta meg, milyen egy normálisan működő demokrácia, az országában eluralkodó torz közállapotokat azonosította a liberalizmussal - és elkezdett visszavágyni egy autoriter rendszerbe. Putyin pedig jött, és betöltötte az "erős vezető" üresen maradt ökológiai fülkéjét.
("Tessék, Vlagyimir. Itt van ez az ország. Tedd magadévá.")
Ezek a polgárok Eric Fromm definícióját alapul véve "tekintélyelvű személyiségként" írhatóak le. Olyan emberek ők, akik a mások szabadságától jobban félnek, mint amennyire óhajtják saját személyes szabadságukat - következésképpen hajlandóak alávetni magukat egy olyan vezetőnek, aki a stabilitásért** és némi életszínvonal-növekedésért cserébe igényt tart állampolgári jogaik egy részére. Sőt, ami a slusszpoén: még az életszínvonal-növekedéstől is hajlamosak eltekinteni. A putyinizmus egyik legriasztóbb tapasztalata ugyanis éppen az, hogy a gazdasági mélyrepülés együtt járhat a vezér népszerűségének növekedésével. Ez történt például 2014 után, amikor a Krím "repatriálásának" mámora teljesen elfedte azt a tényt, hogy az orosz gazdaság elkezdett beleállni a földbe. Talán mert annak, akinek nincs semmije, még nagyobb szüksége van arra, hogy legalább a nemzeti közösséghez tartozáson keresztül sikerélményekben legyen része. Ebben az általános mentális állapotban a hatalmon nincsen fék, és beindul az, amit Szolzsenyicin "vörös keréknek" nevez: a hatóságok azon hozzáállásáról van szó, miszerint amit elkezdtünk, be kell fejezni, ha pedig ellenállást érzékelünk, azon át kell gázolni. A kompromisszum a gyengeség jele, a tárgyalás és egyeztetés a haldokló Nyugat trükkje, mákony, távol áll az orosz néplélektől. Úgyhogy menjünk csak előre erőből, mint a tank.
Végtelenül keserű kötet - keserűsége jobbára abból fakad, hogy szereplői pontosan érzékelik, merre tart Oroszország, de képtelenek arra, hogy ezzel a tudással megváltoztassák a folyamat irányát. Küzdenek, vergődnek, de bedarálja őket a "vörös kerék". Premier plánban végignézik, ahogy a hatalom szisztematikusan felerősíti a társadalom önpusztító ösztöneit, és végül ellenük fordítja a saját hazájukat. Ha Gessler nem történelmet írna, hanem irodalmat, lehetősége lenne valamiféle happy enddel megajándékozni sokat próbált szereplőit - de itt legjobb esetben is csak a szerencsés elmenekülést dokumentálhatja. Mert ha a "vörös kerék" beindul, akkor már régen rossz. Talán az a legokosabb, ha eleve nem engedjük, hogy elkezdjen forogni.
* A "homo szovjetikusz" a Szovjetunióval foglalkozó társadalomtörténet egyik kulcsszava. Olyan embert jelöl, akinek egyik legfőbb jellemzője a "kettős gondolkodás" - képes akár egymással teljesen ellentétes állításokat is elhinni és vallani, mégpedig nem számításból, hanem őszintén azonosulva azok tartalmával. Ez voltaképpen egyfajta túlélési stratégia, amire a totalitárius állam körülményei kondicionálják az egyént.
** Az autoriter államok stabilitása azonban valójában csak mítosz. Hisz amíg a liberális demokráciában lehet arra számítani, hogy a törvények holnap és holnapután is biztosítják az ismert körülményeket, addig a diktatúrában a vezető személyes elképzelései egyik napról a másikra új helyzetet teremthetnek, ami lehetetlenné teszi az egyén számára saját jövője megtervezését.
January 18, 2018
Imagine the United States collapses in the near future. And imagine someone decides to write about the collapse of contemporary America 20-25 years from now, focusing only on Trump, racism, poverty, health care, etc... In order to do so, this person follows the rise of Richard Spencer and the lives of a bunch of liberal, middle-class individuals from NYC, LA and, let's say, Houston. Would this be a fair depiction of life in the U.S.? Yet this is what Masha Gessen does with the Soviet Union and Russia in her book.
Gessen is a Jewish woman who was told by her parents that, in order to beat the “Soviet antisemitic machine,” they “could no longer live in our country,” something that she herself would tell her children years later before leaving Moscow for New York. This is what the reader is warned about in the prologue, some sort of guidelines to frame the events narrated in the book.
Gessen traces the life trajectories of six different people who grew up in the post-Soviet space, plus Aleksandr Dugin, who makes sporadic and, at times, incomprehensible appearances here and there. The idea of using other people lives seems to give a lot of credibility to the point Gessen tries to make which, to put it bluntly, can be summed up as “the Soviet Union was a terrible place to be and Russia is not any better.” The problem, though, is that if you choose to portray the life of the son of a party official, of the daughter of a famous politician, of the grandson of Alexander Yakovlev etc. the picture that you get will get cannot possibly be complete. And that's understandable. Masha Gessen, together with some of her protagonists, is an intelligent, and she tells the stories of the people she knows and relates to. Keep that in mind: she tells the story. What we hear in the book are not the voices of the six protagonists, but their stories filtered by the author's voice, which makes all the difference in the world. Gessen is a journalist with a specific agenda, she is not Svetlana Alexievich. The result is a book that tries to explain the slow descent of Russia into totalitarianism without really portraying the people who have been supporting Putin for more than twenty years, because she dismisses them as the embodiment of Homo Sovieticus, who was (and is) only able of “doublethink.” And the reason is that Gessen doesn't know these people, she doesn't want to acknowledge them, like Clinton saying that Trump's supporters were “deplorables.” When Gessen talks about “Occupy Pedophilia”, a short-lived movement active in 2013-14, she uses the word “thug” to describe the guys involved in it, but the underlying reasoning is the same.
Gessen is angry at Russia, therefore she props up her biased account with negative comments about every possible aspect of life there: from the Cathedral of Christ the Savior that looks like a “gaudy giant wedding cake” to the geometric tiles of the sidewalks in Moscow resembling tombstones, from “the small number of movies that had been produced in the Soviet Union” (which is false) to grand statements about the Soviet Union such as “knowing which way the wind was blowing could mean the difference between life and death.”
Gessen's account on contemporary Russia is more about how Russia is not America than how Russia really is. At one point she writes: “Intellectuals were always falling into the trap of mistaking the written word for a true mirror of life.” I hope the readers of this book won't fall into the same trap.
Gessen is a Jewish woman who was told by her parents that, in order to beat the “Soviet antisemitic machine,” they “could no longer live in our country,” something that she herself would tell her children years later before leaving Moscow for New York. This is what the reader is warned about in the prologue, some sort of guidelines to frame the events narrated in the book.
Gessen traces the life trajectories of six different people who grew up in the post-Soviet space, plus Aleksandr Dugin, who makes sporadic and, at times, incomprehensible appearances here and there. The idea of using other people lives seems to give a lot of credibility to the point Gessen tries to make which, to put it bluntly, can be summed up as “the Soviet Union was a terrible place to be and Russia is not any better.” The problem, though, is that if you choose to portray the life of the son of a party official, of the daughter of a famous politician, of the grandson of Alexander Yakovlev etc. the picture that you get will get cannot possibly be complete. And that's understandable. Masha Gessen, together with some of her protagonists, is an intelligent, and she tells the stories of the people she knows and relates to. Keep that in mind: she tells the story. What we hear in the book are not the voices of the six protagonists, but their stories filtered by the author's voice, which makes all the difference in the world. Gessen is a journalist with a specific agenda, she is not Svetlana Alexievich. The result is a book that tries to explain the slow descent of Russia into totalitarianism without really portraying the people who have been supporting Putin for more than twenty years, because she dismisses them as the embodiment of Homo Sovieticus, who was (and is) only able of “doublethink.” And the reason is that Gessen doesn't know these people, she doesn't want to acknowledge them, like Clinton saying that Trump's supporters were “deplorables.” When Gessen talks about “Occupy Pedophilia”, a short-lived movement active in 2013-14, she uses the word “thug” to describe the guys involved in it, but the underlying reasoning is the same.
Gessen is angry at Russia, therefore she props up her biased account with negative comments about every possible aspect of life there: from the Cathedral of Christ the Savior that looks like a “gaudy giant wedding cake” to the geometric tiles of the sidewalks in Moscow resembling tombstones, from “the small number of movies that had been produced in the Soviet Union” (which is false) to grand statements about the Soviet Union such as “knowing which way the wind was blowing could mean the difference between life and death.”
Gessen's account on contemporary Russia is more about how Russia is not America than how Russia really is. At one point she writes: “Intellectuals were always falling into the trap of mistaking the written word for a true mirror of life.” I hope the readers of this book won't fall into the same trap.
August 20, 2023
Masha Gessen - O futuro é história - como o totalitarismo se apoderou da Rússia
Gletkin nasceu em Tumui na margem esquerda do rio Lena, na Rússia siberiana em 1905, ano em que se iniciaram os movimentos sociais na Rússia. Esta coincidência com o ano das convulsões sociais veio a gravar-lhe o destino-me a forma como encarou a vida, o mundo e a sua amada Rússia.
Filho de camponeses pobres, muito pobres, viu o ser pai morto às mãos de guardas ao serviço de Nicolau II e do Kulák do feudo. A sua infância foi muito diferente do que imaginamos. Gletkin limitava-se a sobreviver. E nesse processo, sempre que possível apoiava a mãe no sustento dos seus quatro irmãos todos mais novos. Tentava o sustento, expressão curiosa para tempos em que a tentativa era bem mais frequente que o sustento. A irmã Mitcha e o irmão Ivanildo morreram antes dos dois anos. A sua morte não lhe causou constrangimento. Sabia que eram dois anjos que tinham partido para os domínios do Senhor. E isso não era de forma alguma um castigo. Para os que partiam aliviava-se-lhes a punição terrena, para os que ficavam haveria mais miséria para distribuir.
Não foi com sobressalto que aos doze anos Gletikin que assistiu à revolução bolchevique. Jovem, mas não o demasiado para ver a verdade das convulsões sociais, estava disposto a deixar-se levar na torrente. Não conhecia Marx ou Engels, nunca tinha ouvido falar no manifesto comunista, não conhecia Lenine, mas sabia sim o que a era miséria, e a opressão dos que ainda seres humanos iguais a si, nunca tinham passado uma ínfima parte dos tormentos a que nos seus magros 12 anos tinha assistido. Viver não poderia ser um castelo de suplícios, miséria e injustiças. Com a revolução de Outubro abria-se agora uma janela para um mundo novo e ele, o jovem Gletkin de 12 anos não estava disposto a ficar apeado no cais enquanto o sonho passava como um turbilhão no tempo e na história.
Logo que a oportunidade lhe trespassou a soleira, agarrou-a, não como um desesperado que se pretendesse salvar, mas antes como alguém que achava ser seu dever tomar o seu destino nas mãos e impedir que homens, outros quaisquer seres humanos viessem a ser espezinhados por um semelhante.
A oportunidade surgiu quando junto às margens do rio Lena construíram a maior fábrica de carris de aço da europa. Arranjou lugar entre os operários, todos eles camponeses na semana anterior. E não lhe foi difícil fazer-se notar e subir na hierarquia. Primeiro da fábrica, onde o seu ímpeto e empenho revolucionário se fez notar, e poucos anos depois em Moscovo para onde foi enviado para ser integrado nos quadros do PCUS. Não participou na primeira guerra mundial, nem na guerra civil russa que terminou em 1922, tinha na altura 17 anos. Na década de 20, teve o seu encontro com a revolução, aprendeu a ler, leu os pais fundadores da nova sociedade e participou com empenho na construção da mesma. Assistiu à revolta de Kronstadt e ao “navio dos filósofos”. Estes processos de eliminação física ou de expatriamento de todos aqueles que não entendiam que o ser humano, o individual, nunca se poderia sobrepor ao coletivo, nunca o incomodaram. Muito pelo contrário, sempre os viu como sacrifícios que teriam de ser cometidos para que o individuo fosse uma parcela do coletivo e nunca ver a sociedade como um coletivo de indivíduos. A unidade era a sociedade. E quem não entendesse isso deveria ser apagado da sociedade. Não havia qualquer ódio a quem assim não fosse, apenas a sociedade, o coletivo rejeitaria como um corpo estranho quem de alguma forma quisesse que a sua individualidade fosse notada. Era notada e imediatamente expurgada. Não foi então estranho que na década de 30, aos 30 anos tivesse integrado os corpos da NKVD, e ao serviço do partido tivesse participado nos expurgos. E fê-lo sempre com empenho e abdicando da individualidade. O mesmo empenho com que aos 14 anos, na fábrica de carris de aço de Tumui, denunciou todos aqueles que pela inércia e falta de furor revolucionário boicotavam a alvorada da nova sociedade. Foi sim com a responsabilidade do coletivo que assistiu ao fuzilamento do seu irmão mais novo, Yure, que tinha sido denunciado numa actividade do mercado negro. Ninguém era mais importante que o coletivo e a mãe rússia. Ninguém, nem a família. Norteado desta convicção estava disposto a fazê-la valer contra todos os reacionários com que cruzasse. Não havia meio termo, a transformação da sociedade e a revolução eram ainda como uma pequena criança indefesa que se não protegida dos males do mundo rapidamente sucumbiria. Foi assim que na sua qualidade de inquiridor participou no “Processo Rubachov”, trazido ao conhecimento público por Arthur Koestler. Nesse e em muitos outros, e sempre com sucesso obteve dos contra-revolucionários a sua declaração de marginalidade e como tal o reconhecimento de não mais terem lugar na individualidade do coletivo. Eram corpos estranhos.
Participou na segunda guerra mundial, esteve no cerco de Estalinegrado e foi vitorioso. Vitorioso na bravura e no sentimento de coletivo que deu aos seus homens. Terminou esses tempos de provação sem uma mão que perdeu com uma granada. Perdeu a mão, mas não o pulso para tomar as rédeas do destino do coletivo. E sempre em representação do coletivo acompanhou as tropas russas até à vitoria em 22 de abril de 1945. Tinha agora 40 anos, uma mão a menos, mas um orgulho desmedido na sua pátria, na sua nação e na sua causa. E se até aí a tinha abraçado com ambas as mãos, agora não tendo a esquerda, agarrou a causa do coletivo com todo o seu corpo e o seu ser, numa simbiose de onde Gletkin e coletivo eram indissociáveis. E que orgulho tinha do que tinham conseguido! Tinham vencido os panzers nazis, tinham expandido o império da causa até às entranhas do ocidente burgues. Tinha orgulho no seu líder que na conferencia de Yalta mostrara ao mundo o que uma ideia e um coletivo podiam conseguir. Orgulho, sim, creio que esse era o único pecado a que se permitia. Finais de anos 40 e até à morte do amado líder em 1953 dedicou-se de corpo e alma às suas funções no partido e no comité de segurança do estado (KGB). Com a subida de ao poder de Nikita Khrushchev em 1956 e muito em particular após o XX congresso do PCUS, Gletkin então com 50 anos inicia o seu processo de desgosto para com a ausência de sensibilidade, que os dirigentes pós Estaline pareciam fadar ao papel do coletivo nos desígnios da sociedade. Ao permitirem que o cidadão, o individuo fosse o destinatário da política, estava-se a negar tudo pelo que se tinha lutado. Todos os sacrifícios e atrocidades passariam assim a ser reconhecidos, como sacrifícios e atrocidades e não como um caminho glorioso rumo às manhãs que cantam.
Algo de muito errado se estava a passar com a sociedade soviética. De alguma maneira o sonho era posto em causa, e todos aqueles que dele tinham feito parte de alguma forma sentiam-se traídos, não pelo inimigo externo que sempre tinham denunciado, mas por algo interno, algo que ainda não tinha sido devidamente expurgado.
Com a deposição de Nikita Khrushchev em 1964, Gletkin então já perto dos seus 60 anos ainda conseguiu reunir forças para prestar um último serviço ao coletivo. Antes da sua morte em 1982, aos 77 anos teria de assegurar que os 3 filhos teriam doutrina adequada para seguirem as pisadas do pai na defesa do coletivo para honra e glória de todos os povos russos e nações que em liberdade tinham aderido ao coletivo da URSS. Glória à Rússia, glória a todos os povos da URSS, glória ao pai fundador, Josef Stalin, que com probidades tinha afirmado a causa coletiva junto da Alemanha nazi e do mundo burguês e capitalista. E a lição foi bem aprendida tanto pelos descendentes de Gletkin como por tantos outros que com a queda da URSS, a desagregação do império e o desapontamento da sociedade capitalista e de consumo iniciada formalmente em 1991, com o desastre que foram as políticas de Gorbatchov da glasnost e perestroika, e posteriormente, com o quase sempre alcoolizado Boris Yeltsin. Gletkin dava voltas na campa e enquanto as dava, 146 milhões de russos achavam que o caminho que seguiam, um caminho de degradação e degredo, não respeitava a história de uma nação que tinha tido expoentes como Pedro o Grande, Catarina II, e Josef Stalin, todos eles filhos da grande Rússia e que agora se via vexada pelo ocidente opressor.
Masha Gressen, no seu livro “O Futuro é História” conta-nos a história de Masha, Zhanna, Seryozha, e Lyosha, e na história destes personagens e suas famílias uma história da Rússia. Uma Rússia recente e de que forma esta mesma história se poderia refletir no que é a Rússia de 2023 e no seu futuro próximo. Ao fazê-lo contudo com base nestas quatro personagens limita-se a observar o que vais acontecendo com talvez menos de 20% da população. É por isso, e por achar que falta um personagem que se identifique com os 80% da população que apoia Pútin que escrevi esta ficção. Podemos não gostar, podemos abominar, mas eles estão lá e são 80% de 146 milhões. É demasiada gente para ser negligenciada. Foi este o motivo pelo qual escrevi esta história aproveitando a personagem de Gletkin descrita por Arthur Koestler no seu livro “Eclipse do Sol”. Pretendi com este exercício não justificar as ações que os russos têm, aos meus olhos, cometido. Mas é aos meus, e há seguramente 292 milhões de outros que no mundo o vêm de outra forma.
Gletkin nasceu em Tumui na margem esquerda do rio Lena, na Rússia siberiana em 1905, ano em que se iniciaram os movimentos sociais na Rússia. Esta coincidência com o ano das convulsões sociais veio a gravar-lhe o destino-me a forma como encarou a vida, o mundo e a sua amada Rússia.
Filho de camponeses pobres, muito pobres, viu o ser pai morto às mãos de guardas ao serviço de Nicolau II e do Kulák do feudo. A sua infância foi muito diferente do que imaginamos. Gletkin limitava-se a sobreviver. E nesse processo, sempre que possível apoiava a mãe no sustento dos seus quatro irmãos todos mais novos. Tentava o sustento, expressão curiosa para tempos em que a tentativa era bem mais frequente que o sustento. A irmã Mitcha e o irmão Ivanildo morreram antes dos dois anos. A sua morte não lhe causou constrangimento. Sabia que eram dois anjos que tinham partido para os domínios do Senhor. E isso não era de forma alguma um castigo. Para os que partiam aliviava-se-lhes a punição terrena, para os que ficavam haveria mais miséria para distribuir.
Não foi com sobressalto que aos doze anos Gletikin que assistiu à revolução bolchevique. Jovem, mas não o demasiado para ver a verdade das convulsões sociais, estava disposto a deixar-se levar na torrente. Não conhecia Marx ou Engels, nunca tinha ouvido falar no manifesto comunista, não conhecia Lenine, mas sabia sim o que a era miséria, e a opressão dos que ainda seres humanos iguais a si, nunca tinham passado uma ínfima parte dos tormentos a que nos seus magros 12 anos tinha assistido. Viver não poderia ser um castelo de suplícios, miséria e injustiças. Com a revolução de Outubro abria-se agora uma janela para um mundo novo e ele, o jovem Gletkin de 12 anos não estava disposto a ficar apeado no cais enquanto o sonho passava como um turbilhão no tempo e na história.
Logo que a oportunidade lhe trespassou a soleira, agarrou-a, não como um desesperado que se pretendesse salvar, mas antes como alguém que achava ser seu dever tomar o seu destino nas mãos e impedir que homens, outros quaisquer seres humanos viessem a ser espezinhados por um semelhante.
A oportunidade surgiu quando junto às margens do rio Lena construíram a maior fábrica de carris de aço da europa. Arranjou lugar entre os operários, todos eles camponeses na semana anterior. E não lhe foi difícil fazer-se notar e subir na hierarquia. Primeiro da fábrica, onde o seu ímpeto e empenho revolucionário se fez notar, e poucos anos depois em Moscovo para onde foi enviado para ser integrado nos quadros do PCUS. Não participou na primeira guerra mundial, nem na guerra civil russa que terminou em 1922, tinha na altura 17 anos. Na década de 20, teve o seu encontro com a revolução, aprendeu a ler, leu os pais fundadores da nova sociedade e participou com empenho na construção da mesma. Assistiu à revolta de Kronstadt e ao “navio dos filósofos”. Estes processos de eliminação física ou de expatriamento de todos aqueles que não entendiam que o ser humano, o individual, nunca se poderia sobrepor ao coletivo, nunca o incomodaram. Muito pelo contrário, sempre os viu como sacrifícios que teriam de ser cometidos para que o individuo fosse uma parcela do coletivo e nunca ver a sociedade como um coletivo de indivíduos. A unidade era a sociedade. E quem não entendesse isso deveria ser apagado da sociedade. Não havia qualquer ódio a quem assim não fosse, apenas a sociedade, o coletivo rejeitaria como um corpo estranho quem de alguma forma quisesse que a sua individualidade fosse notada. Era notada e imediatamente expurgada. Não foi então estranho que na década de 30, aos 30 anos tivesse integrado os corpos da NKVD, e ao serviço do partido tivesse participado nos expurgos. E fê-lo sempre com empenho e abdicando da individualidade. O mesmo empenho com que aos 14 anos, na fábrica de carris de aço de Tumui, denunciou todos aqueles que pela inércia e falta de furor revolucionário boicotavam a alvorada da nova sociedade. Foi sim com a responsabilidade do coletivo que assistiu ao fuzilamento do seu irmão mais novo, Yure, que tinha sido denunciado numa actividade do mercado negro. Ninguém era mais importante que o coletivo e a mãe rússia. Ninguém, nem a família. Norteado desta convicção estava disposto a fazê-la valer contra todos os reacionários com que cruzasse. Não havia meio termo, a transformação da sociedade e a revolução eram ainda como uma pequena criança indefesa que se não protegida dos males do mundo rapidamente sucumbiria. Foi assim que na sua qualidade de inquiridor participou no “Processo Rubachov”, trazido ao conhecimento público por Arthur Koestler. Nesse e em muitos outros, e sempre com sucesso obteve dos contra-revolucionários a sua declaração de marginalidade e como tal o reconhecimento de não mais terem lugar na individualidade do coletivo. Eram corpos estranhos.
Participou na segunda guerra mundial, esteve no cerco de Estalinegrado e foi vitorioso. Vitorioso na bravura e no sentimento de coletivo que deu aos seus homens. Terminou esses tempos de provação sem uma mão que perdeu com uma granada. Perdeu a mão, mas não o pulso para tomar as rédeas do destino do coletivo. E sempre em representação do coletivo acompanhou as tropas russas até à vitoria em 22 de abril de 1945. Tinha agora 40 anos, uma mão a menos, mas um orgulho desmedido na sua pátria, na sua nação e na sua causa. E se até aí a tinha abraçado com ambas as mãos, agora não tendo a esquerda, agarrou a causa do coletivo com todo o seu corpo e o seu ser, numa simbiose de onde Gletkin e coletivo eram indissociáveis. E que orgulho tinha do que tinham conseguido! Tinham vencido os panzers nazis, tinham expandido o império da causa até às entranhas do ocidente burgues. Tinha orgulho no seu líder que na conferencia de Yalta mostrara ao mundo o que uma ideia e um coletivo podiam conseguir. Orgulho, sim, creio que esse era o único pecado a que se permitia. Finais de anos 40 e até à morte do amado líder em 1953 dedicou-se de corpo e alma às suas funções no partido e no comité de segurança do estado (KGB). Com a subida de ao poder de Nikita Khrushchev em 1956 e muito em particular após o XX congresso do PCUS, Gletkin então com 50 anos inicia o seu processo de desgosto para com a ausência de sensibilidade, que os dirigentes pós Estaline pareciam fadar ao papel do coletivo nos desígnios da sociedade. Ao permitirem que o cidadão, o individuo fosse o destinatário da política, estava-se a negar tudo pelo que se tinha lutado. Todos os sacrifícios e atrocidades passariam assim a ser reconhecidos, como sacrifícios e atrocidades e não como um caminho glorioso rumo às manhãs que cantam.
Algo de muito errado se estava a passar com a sociedade soviética. De alguma maneira o sonho era posto em causa, e todos aqueles que dele tinham feito parte de alguma forma sentiam-se traídos, não pelo inimigo externo que sempre tinham denunciado, mas por algo interno, algo que ainda não tinha sido devidamente expurgado.
Com a deposição de Nikita Khrushchev em 1964, Gletkin então já perto dos seus 60 anos ainda conseguiu reunir forças para prestar um último serviço ao coletivo. Antes da sua morte em 1982, aos 77 anos teria de assegurar que os 3 filhos teriam doutrina adequada para seguirem as pisadas do pai na defesa do coletivo para honra e glória de todos os povos russos e nações que em liberdade tinham aderido ao coletivo da URSS. Glória à Rússia, glória a todos os povos da URSS, glória ao pai fundador, Josef Stalin, que com probidades tinha afirmado a causa coletiva junto da Alemanha nazi e do mundo burguês e capitalista. E a lição foi bem aprendida tanto pelos descendentes de Gletkin como por tantos outros que com a queda da URSS, a desagregação do império e o desapontamento da sociedade capitalista e de consumo iniciada formalmente em 1991, com o desastre que foram as políticas de Gorbatchov da glasnost e perestroika, e posteriormente, com o quase sempre alcoolizado Boris Yeltsin. Gletkin dava voltas na campa e enquanto as dava, 146 milhões de russos achavam que o caminho que seguiam, um caminho de degradação e degredo, não respeitava a história de uma nação que tinha tido expoentes como Pedro o Grande, Catarina II, e Josef Stalin, todos eles filhos da grande Rússia e que agora se via vexada pelo ocidente opressor.
Masha Gressen, no seu livro “O Futuro é História” conta-nos a história de Masha, Zhanna, Seryozha, e Lyosha, e na história destes personagens e suas famílias uma história da Rússia. Uma Rússia recente e de que forma esta mesma história se poderia refletir no que é a Rússia de 2023 e no seu futuro próximo. Ao fazê-lo contudo com base nestas quatro personagens limita-se a observar o que vais acontecendo com talvez menos de 20% da população. É por isso, e por achar que falta um personagem que se identifique com os 80% da população que apoia Pútin que escrevi esta ficção. Podemos não gostar, podemos abominar, mas eles estão lá e são 80% de 146 milhões. É demasiada gente para ser negligenciada. Foi este o motivo pelo qual escrevi esta história aproveitando a personagem de Gletkin descrita por Arthur Koestler no seu livro “Eclipse do Sol”. Pretendi com este exercício não justificar as ações que os russos têm, aos meus olhos, cometido. Mas é aos meus, e há seguramente 292 milhões de outros que no mundo o vêm de outra forma.
May 30, 2019
The Future is History by Masha Gessen.
This book won the National Book Award in 2017. It is an oddly constructed read tracing the last thirty years of Russia. Four Russians born in the 1980’s at the dawn of democracy are profiled as they grow into adulthood of the new Millennium. Due to their political beliefs and in some cases sexual identities they become opponents of the Putin regime — on the losing side of this political struggle. But the story also tracks Yeltsin and Putin so there are in effect six parallel stories.
In the mid to late 90’s disillusioned Russians felt outrage towards NATO’s involvement in the Balkans which included the airstrikes in Serbia. Additionally the militants in Chechnya were causing a great deal of outrage too. Many Russians were nostalgic for the old days of motherland. Lo and behold into the void steps Vladimir Putin. He wins an election promoting his neo-nationalist agenda. Bit by bit his regime dismantles Russia’s ‘semi-democratic’ trajectory into what is a totalitarian state today.
3 stars. In a nutshell, the writing is good and the author has a great deal of knowledge about Russia but the storytelling is sub-par. The author should have followed, at most, one person’s story in tandem with the over-arching theme of Russia’s march to autocracy. The book is not particularly dramatic. At times it feels like a regurgitation of well integrated newspaper articles about Russia over this period. This is understandable since the author is a journalist but in the end the read just fell flat for me.
April 2, 2019
Really brilliant, really heartbreaking and really well-written. Gessen's ability to interweave different stories to tell the sweeping story of Russia from the heady days of glasnost till now is masterful.
She chooses the lives and work of four young people and three "experts" (a psychoanalyst, a political philosopher and a sociologist) to exemplify what would otherwise be a history too big to get your arms around, and the effect is even more heartbreaking, as it becomes personal. Gessen doesn't lecture - rather, she adds up damning facts, but neither is she dry, this huge non-fiction tome moved at the same pace that many novels do for me.
For those looking for lessons about current American politics, my takeaways would be a) don't - because if Gessen shows us nothing else, she demonstrates that Russia's history makes it unique; and b) that we don't even have a clue what authoritarian rule looks like when we shout that the current administration is "fascist" or "totalitarian" (which is not to say that we should stop shouting, but a little perspective is healthy). But still (c), it can be useful to have some indicia of how absolute power, and citizen lethargy, are formed, even if not all the lessons will be (because of Russia's very different origin stories) apples to apples applicable.
She chooses the lives and work of four young people and three "experts" (a psychoanalyst, a political philosopher and a sociologist) to exemplify what would otherwise be a history too big to get your arms around, and the effect is even more heartbreaking, as it becomes personal. Gessen doesn't lecture - rather, she adds up damning facts, but neither is she dry, this huge non-fiction tome moved at the same pace that many novels do for me.
For those looking for lessons about current American politics, my takeaways would be a) don't - because if Gessen shows us nothing else, she demonstrates that Russia's history makes it unique; and b) that we don't even have a clue what authoritarian rule looks like when we shout that the current administration is "fascist" or "totalitarian" (which is not to say that we should stop shouting, but a little perspective is healthy). But still (c), it can be useful to have some indicia of how absolute power, and citizen lethargy, are formed, even if not all the lessons will be (because of Russia's very different origin stories) apples to apples applicable.
September 25, 2017
Gessen's careful telling of the lives of four Russians who saw the Soviet Union collapse and who also saw Putin take power is a thrill to read. Their are three additional characters whose position in Russian society and political influence garners attention.
Despite following the lives of 7 characters across landscapes of city to country life and occupations from psychology to politics, Gessen manages to keep the reader on a path toward making sense of what it was like for these people to live (and in some ways) contribute to the political results.
Gessen emerges less surprised than she was at the project's outset (as a journalist she herself covered this period in Russia). With attention, the reader will too.
Despite following the lives of 7 characters across landscapes of city to country life and occupations from psychology to politics, Gessen manages to keep the reader on a path toward making sense of what it was like for these people to live (and in some ways) contribute to the political results.
Gessen emerges less surprised than she was at the project's outset (as a journalist she herself covered this period in Russia). With attention, the reader will too.
January 9, 2018
The parts where Gessen talks about totalitarianism and authoritarianism and the changes in culture and thinking in Russia are so eye opening. It's a great update to Remnick's Lenin's tomb, but this book did not really work for me because I really don't like it when authors try to tell a story through people's lives. Maybe it's a personal pet peeve, but I think the premise is that Russians are relatable and just like us. I already assume this. I want to know about the regime and I promise I have the attention span for the politics. I don't need the human drama. There was too much of that here--though some of it was woven into the larger picture, but not enough. And also, I really do think I'm in the minority here. I must be because every author does this now.
July 9, 2018
My very first memory of a newsreel was the Hungarian revolution against the Soviet Union. It was crushed. The Hungarians had control for a week or two hoping that the US or UN would help out. Good luck with that. The world ignored them, and they were crushed. As a young boy, I watched them being shot down in the streets by Russian soldiers.
The next memory about the Soviet Union that stuck with me was the Czechoslovakian revolution. Led by Alexander Dubcek, the government there tried to create "communism with a human face." Once again: Good luck with that. Soviet tanks rolled in. There was no real pushback. One young Czech man burned himself in front of a tank. Dubcek was assigned to run a parking garage. Then there was this beautiful moment. Dubcek and his wife walked into a movie theater. The audience noticed him and stood spontaneously to sing the Czech national anthem. I was inspired. But they were still under the boot of Russia.
The Russian dissidents became my heroes. In 1969, Andrei Amalrik wrote the book-length essay Will the Soviet Union Survive Until 1984? I always thought they would. They didn't survive much longer. But that government has come back. Amalrik, by the way, died in a car accident in Spain going to a civil rights conference. Broke my heart.
So many other examples caused me to grow up with a decidedly negative view of communism. I have not changed.
This book is solid history and a must read for anyone who cares about Russia. Masha Gessen is the best!
I can't help but wonder if we missed a great opportunity to change Russia and the world. I don't think they ever had a golden age. It always seems so cold and miserable. And the people so depressed. Even in their great literature.
In December 1989, the great dissident physicist Andre Sakharov died leaving Boris Yeltsin to lead the "democrats." Yeltsin was "locked in mortal combat" with Mikhail Gorbachev, who refused to cede the Communist Party. Gorbachev banned street protests in March 1991. There were tanks in the streets in an effort to stymy democracy protests. Crowds chanted "Yel-tisn!" In June, Yeltsin was elected president. Civil War was narrowly averted.
One after another Eastern European states allowed protests. The Communists and the Russian Army were forced to leave. That makes the current dismantling of Eastern European democracy even more discouraging. Mr. Trump has been a model for fascists everywhere.
A young KGB agent there described the experience as "frightful and humiliating." His name was Vladimir Putin. He would not forget. And the chain reaction did not stop at the Soviet border. Even the great Soviet Union splintered. Slowly the Soviet Republics declared their own independence. Gorbachev resigned his post as President of the USSR.
In August the giant statue of Felix Dzerzhinsky, founder of the Soviet secret police, was removed from its pedestal near the Kremlin. It symbolized the dismantling the two pillars of totalitarianism: ideology and terror.
The Soviet state was based on punishment. Children were taught to criticize one another in groups. The same with workers.
Russians were outraged at the American bombings in Serbia.
Vladimir Putin's popularity shot up in 1999. First, a series of apartment building explosions in Russia. Putin used the bombings as a pretext to launch a new offensive in Chechnya. It seemed as if no Russian felt any sympathy for what Chechen civilians were going through. Instead, they admired one utterance by Putin: "We will pursue terrorists wherever they are. At the airport, if they are at the airport. And that means, I apologize, that if we catch them going to the bathroom, then we will rub them out in the outhouse, if it comes to that. That's it, the issue is closed." The Russian people had a new strongman who knew how to talk tough again.
And he had the Russian Orthodox Church on his side.
In 2000, a Russian sub sunk off the coast of Norway. The Norwegians offered to help. Putin would not interrupt his vacation.
Chechens seized a movie theater in Moscow taking more than 900 hostages. The military stormed the theater and 129 hostages died. Sleeping gas pumped into the theater ended up killing many of the hostages. No pictures of dead hostages were shown. Just terrorists.
Russians at first reacted with sympathy to 9/11 attacks on America. Soon it gave way to blaming America itself for the attacks.
Estonia removed the statue of the bronze soldier meant to commemorate Russian WWII victories there. What Russians thought of as "liberation," Estonians thought of as "occupation." Russia attacked Estonia as punishment with cyberwarfare. Sound familiar?
Georgia and Ukraine were prevented from entering NATO by Russian military attacks. I guess you could say it's hard to blame either side of the issue. But those are separate countries and should be respected as such.
If you read the book, take a careful look at the definitions of totalitarianism. They look eerily familiar to our current situation. As Erich Fromm said, ". . . a feeling of superiority over the rest of mankind . . . will compensate them--for at least a time--for the fact that their lives had been impoverished, economically and culturally."
One of the things I most learned was how much Putin used attacks on LGBTQ rights to maintain power and solidify his base. They were constantly referred to as "pedophiles." Again the book goes into great detail.
Putin and Medvedev have a back and forth handover of power. Total corruption. The Russian Orthodox Church helped to promote this power.
And of course there was the usual hatred of Jews.
And of course the need for strong men. You know, like the shirtless Putin.
And of course they now could say that Crimea was "theirs."
And, like climate change and the other problems we face, the worst is yet to come.
A great book. Well worthy of the National Book Award.
The next memory about the Soviet Union that stuck with me was the Czechoslovakian revolution. Led by Alexander Dubcek, the government there tried to create "communism with a human face." Once again: Good luck with that. Soviet tanks rolled in. There was no real pushback. One young Czech man burned himself in front of a tank. Dubcek was assigned to run a parking garage. Then there was this beautiful moment. Dubcek and his wife walked into a movie theater. The audience noticed him and stood spontaneously to sing the Czech national anthem. I was inspired. But they were still under the boot of Russia.
The Russian dissidents became my heroes. In 1969, Andrei Amalrik wrote the book-length essay Will the Soviet Union Survive Until 1984? I always thought they would. They didn't survive much longer. But that government has come back. Amalrik, by the way, died in a car accident in Spain going to a civil rights conference. Broke my heart.
So many other examples caused me to grow up with a decidedly negative view of communism. I have not changed.
This book is solid history and a must read for anyone who cares about Russia. Masha Gessen is the best!
I can't help but wonder if we missed a great opportunity to change Russia and the world. I don't think they ever had a golden age. It always seems so cold and miserable. And the people so depressed. Even in their great literature.
In December 1989, the great dissident physicist Andre Sakharov died leaving Boris Yeltsin to lead the "democrats." Yeltsin was "locked in mortal combat" with Mikhail Gorbachev, who refused to cede the Communist Party. Gorbachev banned street protests in March 1991. There were tanks in the streets in an effort to stymy democracy protests. Crowds chanted "Yel-tisn!" In June, Yeltsin was elected president. Civil War was narrowly averted.
One after another Eastern European states allowed protests. The Communists and the Russian Army were forced to leave. That makes the current dismantling of Eastern European democracy even more discouraging. Mr. Trump has been a model for fascists everywhere.
A young KGB agent there described the experience as "frightful and humiliating." His name was Vladimir Putin. He would not forget. And the chain reaction did not stop at the Soviet border. Even the great Soviet Union splintered. Slowly the Soviet Republics declared their own independence. Gorbachev resigned his post as President of the USSR.
In August the giant statue of Felix Dzerzhinsky, founder of the Soviet secret police, was removed from its pedestal near the Kremlin. It symbolized the dismantling the two pillars of totalitarianism: ideology and terror.
The Soviet state was based on punishment. Children were taught to criticize one another in groups. The same with workers.
Russians were outraged at the American bombings in Serbia.
Vladimir Putin's popularity shot up in 1999. First, a series of apartment building explosions in Russia. Putin used the bombings as a pretext to launch a new offensive in Chechnya. It seemed as if no Russian felt any sympathy for what Chechen civilians were going through. Instead, they admired one utterance by Putin: "We will pursue terrorists wherever they are. At the airport, if they are at the airport. And that means, I apologize, that if we catch them going to the bathroom, then we will rub them out in the outhouse, if it comes to that. That's it, the issue is closed." The Russian people had a new strongman who knew how to talk tough again.
And he had the Russian Orthodox Church on his side.
In 2000, a Russian sub sunk off the coast of Norway. The Norwegians offered to help. Putin would not interrupt his vacation.
Chechens seized a movie theater in Moscow taking more than 900 hostages. The military stormed the theater and 129 hostages died. Sleeping gas pumped into the theater ended up killing many of the hostages. No pictures of dead hostages were shown. Just terrorists.
Russians at first reacted with sympathy to 9/11 attacks on America. Soon it gave way to blaming America itself for the attacks.
Estonia removed the statue of the bronze soldier meant to commemorate Russian WWII victories there. What Russians thought of as "liberation," Estonians thought of as "occupation." Russia attacked Estonia as punishment with cyberwarfare. Sound familiar?
Georgia and Ukraine were prevented from entering NATO by Russian military attacks. I guess you could say it's hard to blame either side of the issue. But those are separate countries and should be respected as such.
If you read the book, take a careful look at the definitions of totalitarianism. They look eerily familiar to our current situation. As Erich Fromm said, ". . . a feeling of superiority over the rest of mankind . . . will compensate them--for at least a time--for the fact that their lives had been impoverished, economically and culturally."
One of the things I most learned was how much Putin used attacks on LGBTQ rights to maintain power and solidify his base. They were constantly referred to as "pedophiles." Again the book goes into great detail.
Putin and Medvedev have a back and forth handover of power. Total corruption. The Russian Orthodox Church helped to promote this power.
And of course there was the usual hatred of Jews.
And of course the need for strong men. You know, like the shirtless Putin.
And of course they now could say that Crimea was "theirs."
And, like climate change and the other problems we face, the worst is yet to come.
A great book. Well worthy of the National Book Award.
October 17, 2019
An essential book for anyone who wants to understand modern Russia, that now almost mythical country making such an (unfortunate) impact on the world.
Masha Gessen is a great writer who focuses on individual human stories in order to give context to the last several decades of Russian history. A cast of academics, protesters, and LGBT characters highlight the immense struggles going on beyond what was once the Iron Curtain.
It's not just about Putinism, but Putin is of course lingering in the background always. As the stories begin, there is a lot to take in about the systems of the Soviet Union, and not just epic battles but very personal things like the national racial categories and how family planning was upended many times resulting in generations of single-mother households. And the fascinating concept of 'Homo Sovieticus.' There is also as good an explanation of how the Soviet Union fell as one could read anywhere--which is quite the complex topic. There's Yeltsin, and the various disappointing mistakes made during the volatile economic transition to the current Russian Federation.
As we lead up to the present we find ourselves in the purposefully confusing world that the political technologists have made: Putin's Russia. It's a place hard to define, although the scholars keep trying: mainly there's the debate over the definitions of authoritarianism and totalitarianism. People get assassinated and politically imprisoned every once in a while but it's not like a big deal to most. Overall the point seems to be that ideology doesn't matter as much as Westerners think it does. Vaguely, Putin support "family values" or something.
The saddest aspect of all is the homophobia of the current state. Pedophilia is equated with homosexuality and this is one of the the big bad enemies used to control the people. It makes for tragic stories to find out how it turns out for people we've been following since the 80s and 90s.
Finally, much culminates in the invasion of the Ukraine. Of course, that story is still unfolding...
As for the future, it's damn hard to say. Should we be optimistic or pessimistic? Should we really pretend anyone can know? Well, The Future is History.
Masha Gessen is a great writer who focuses on individual human stories in order to give context to the last several decades of Russian history. A cast of academics, protesters, and LGBT characters highlight the immense struggles going on beyond what was once the Iron Curtain.
It's not just about Putinism, but Putin is of course lingering in the background always. As the stories begin, there is a lot to take in about the systems of the Soviet Union, and not just epic battles but very personal things like the national racial categories and how family planning was upended many times resulting in generations of single-mother households. And the fascinating concept of 'Homo Sovieticus.' There is also as good an explanation of how the Soviet Union fell as one could read anywhere--which is quite the complex topic. There's Yeltsin, and the various disappointing mistakes made during the volatile economic transition to the current Russian Federation.
As we lead up to the present we find ourselves in the purposefully confusing world that the political technologists have made: Putin's Russia. It's a place hard to define, although the scholars keep trying: mainly there's the debate over the definitions of authoritarianism and totalitarianism. People get assassinated and politically imprisoned every once in a while but it's not like a big deal to most. Overall the point seems to be that ideology doesn't matter as much as Westerners think it does. Vaguely, Putin support "family values" or something.
The saddest aspect of all is the homophobia of the current state. Pedophilia is equated with homosexuality and this is one of the the big bad enemies used to control the people. It makes for tragic stories to find out how it turns out for people we've been following since the 80s and 90s.
Finally, much culminates in the invasion of the Ukraine. Of course, that story is still unfolding...
As for the future, it's damn hard to say. Should we be optimistic or pessimistic? Should we really pretend anyone can know? Well, The Future is History.
February 22, 2024
So one of the reasons I studied Soviet history during college was to understand this evil empire. Why were they evil and why did they fervently oppose America.
I got my answers and then the Soviet Union fell and my life’s path went another way, and my interest in Russia became tourist-like at best: Yeltsin, boozing, democracy, economic ups and downs, and Putin, Crimea and Ukraine. Gessen educates me on how fucked up Russia has become, Here’s some low lights: Gays beaten to death and YouTubed, Volgograd renamed as Stalingrad for an official holiday, TV station cancelled bc it asked if the siege of Leningrad was the best course of action, and my fave - Stalin polls as the most outstanding person of all time - ten years running. Russians are starting to remind me of all the Muslim terrorists who exist in perpetual inferiority to the West and so have created an absurd concatenation of lies and distortions to buoy their fragile egos. Here’s my main takeaway. Russia has always thirsted for authoritarianism. The Czar, the Stalin, The Putin. Communism didn’t fall bc people thirsted for freedom. Communism fell bc it simply couldn’t pay its bills. As a neophyte Russian scholar I had prized my notion that the Soviet Union’s fits of glasnost were generationally driven, Several leading scholars came to my same conclusion later and I was justifiably heartened. Proof: Stalin refuted Trotsky and Bukharin’s NEP for political and generational notions tied to Lenin. Khruschkhev’s Secret Speech in ’56 points the finger of Blame on Stalin’s enforced famine and Purges, while keeping the Great Patriotic War sacrosanct. K was party to the latter but too young for hunger and political internecine murder. Brezhnev ousts K and the Soviet Union gets real old together. Finally, Gorbachev arrives, and over the desiccated remains of the Politburo throws out all of Soviet history, the Warsaw pact, but not the Communist Party. According to my, and some star scholars’ theories, that should be the end as new generations of Russians, less and less fettered by the past, seek a Western model of liberal democracy. But that hasn’t happened. Russia has reinstituted a strong man in Putin/Stalin, sought a revanchist policy i.e Molotov - Ribbentrop, cast America again as the villain in this newest ideological sequel, and taken aim at homosexuals as a fifth column aka the Jews and Trotskyites of yore. I feel like a guy who started reading some epic fantasy series, left off, and returned years later to a completely parallel storyline playing out - or just the guy who saw the original Star Wars movie and then the first of the new series and said WTF it's the same movie!!!
Finally, I find it easy to pillory the new Soviet man. Ensorcelled by inferiority, clinging to the Great Patriotic War as his only achievement, which was now something his great grandfather accomplished, sinking demographically, beholden to oil’s rise and fall, and besotted by a homophobia that verges on hysteria.
Elections are a sham, the media is run by the State, and the colleges won’t even teach much of the social sciences, but then I look at America… Like Russia, the politicans are hated in the United States, but incumbents there are returned to office 96% of the time. Russians are brought up on ridiculous charges and sent to prison, AND in America the Feds have around a 95% conviction rate as well.
Russia owns the Media, AND in the US over 90% of reporters are of one party, and of the over 100 major newspapers only two endorsed Trump for President, and by the latest accounting Trump has faced 91% negative coverage. Finally, the Soviets banned most social science and Putin’s regime seems bent on wiping out any parts that had felt a resurgence, AND in America, just over this weekend, it was reported that 40% of colleges have NO republican professors, that nearly 80% of these schools have less than 10 faculty who put R’s by their name. Are we that much different then? Shrug, we undoubtedly believe we are, but when you look at the facts it appears we just have a more believable storyline than those of the Rodina.
I got my answers and then the Soviet Union fell and my life’s path went another way, and my interest in Russia became tourist-like at best: Yeltsin, boozing, democracy, economic ups and downs, and Putin, Crimea and Ukraine. Gessen educates me on how fucked up Russia has become, Here’s some low lights: Gays beaten to death and YouTubed, Volgograd renamed as Stalingrad for an official holiday, TV station cancelled bc it asked if the siege of Leningrad was the best course of action, and my fave - Stalin polls as the most outstanding person of all time - ten years running. Russians are starting to remind me of all the Muslim terrorists who exist in perpetual inferiority to the West and so have created an absurd concatenation of lies and distortions to buoy their fragile egos. Here’s my main takeaway. Russia has always thirsted for authoritarianism. The Czar, the Stalin, The Putin. Communism didn’t fall bc people thirsted for freedom. Communism fell bc it simply couldn’t pay its bills. As a neophyte Russian scholar I had prized my notion that the Soviet Union’s fits of glasnost were generationally driven, Several leading scholars came to my same conclusion later and I was justifiably heartened. Proof: Stalin refuted Trotsky and Bukharin’s NEP for political and generational notions tied to Lenin. Khruschkhev’s Secret Speech in ’56 points the finger of Blame on Stalin’s enforced famine and Purges, while keeping the Great Patriotic War sacrosanct. K was party to the latter but too young for hunger and political internecine murder. Brezhnev ousts K and the Soviet Union gets real old together. Finally, Gorbachev arrives, and over the desiccated remains of the Politburo throws out all of Soviet history, the Warsaw pact, but not the Communist Party. According to my, and some star scholars’ theories, that should be the end as new generations of Russians, less and less fettered by the past, seek a Western model of liberal democracy. But that hasn’t happened. Russia has reinstituted a strong man in Putin/Stalin, sought a revanchist policy i.e Molotov - Ribbentrop, cast America again as the villain in this newest ideological sequel, and taken aim at homosexuals as a fifth column aka the Jews and Trotskyites of yore. I feel like a guy who started reading some epic fantasy series, left off, and returned years later to a completely parallel storyline playing out - or just the guy who saw the original Star Wars movie and then the first of the new series and said WTF it's the same movie!!!
Finally, I find it easy to pillory the new Soviet man. Ensorcelled by inferiority, clinging to the Great Patriotic War as his only achievement, which was now something his great grandfather accomplished, sinking demographically, beholden to oil’s rise and fall, and besotted by a homophobia that verges on hysteria.
Elections are a sham, the media is run by the State, and the colleges won’t even teach much of the social sciences, but then I look at America… Like Russia, the politicans are hated in the United States, but incumbents there are returned to office 96% of the time. Russians are brought up on ridiculous charges and sent to prison, AND in America the Feds have around a 95% conviction rate as well.
Russia owns the Media, AND in the US over 90% of reporters are of one party, and of the over 100 major newspapers only two endorsed Trump for President, and by the latest accounting Trump has faced 91% negative coverage. Finally, the Soviets banned most social science and Putin’s regime seems bent on wiping out any parts that had felt a resurgence, AND in America, just over this weekend, it was reported that 40% of colleges have NO republican professors, that nearly 80% of these schools have less than 10 faculty who put R’s by their name. Are we that much different then? Shrug, we undoubtedly believe we are, but when you look at the facts it appears we just have a more believable storyline than those of the Rodina.
Read
August 6, 2019Little annoys me more than the "blame Russia!" narrative re: Trump. Instead of actually taking a harsh look inward at the brutalities that constitute American social, economic, and political reality, nice people like my Mom's friends seem to look for the scary other as a way of palliating their own shame -- in this case those bad Russians. Red Dawn for Hillary voters.
And I'm afraid Masha Gessen's book seems designed for those same people, which is probably why it won the National Book Award in 2017. While the Putin regime in Russia is indefensible, and Russian institutions are often backward-looking and authoritarian, not to mention homophobic and xenophobic, there's no mention of how shock therapy programs and poorly executed perestroika laid the foundations for reaction. This is a bit like writing a book about Trump's America without mentioning the 2008 economic crisis.
I should point out that Gessen writes well, and I was fascinated by (some of) the young Russians she follows. But the book as a whole left me wanting more, even if I was... entertained.
And I'm afraid Masha Gessen's book seems designed for those same people, which is probably why it won the National Book Award in 2017. While the Putin regime in Russia is indefensible, and Russian institutions are often backward-looking and authoritarian, not to mention homophobic and xenophobic, there's no mention of how shock therapy programs and poorly executed perestroika laid the foundations for reaction. This is a bit like writing a book about Trump's America without mentioning the 2008 economic crisis.
I should point out that Gessen writes well, and I was fascinated by (some of) the young Russians she follows. But the book as a whole left me wanting more, even if I was... entertained.
May 6, 2018
This explains much about the dichotomies of the Russian citizens' mental, logical, spiritual, economic worldviews. Most of which ride on feelings as much as they do on physical or realistic to quantity facts. It's not just about the period since the 1980's, but that in particular is far more discerned and described through varying well characterized by witness and opinion citizen "eyes"- their life experiences throughout vast (once again) changes.
It's more difficult than just that though. It's also at times erudite and deep in direction. As is the Russian "awareness" and "ideal" dichotomy. And it truly is hard to parse where any individuality or any approach to "equality" is ever a discerning regard or particularly defined within Russia. It's ALWAYS a top down worldview with something like a "father" who "knows better" making nearly every possible bureaucratic, economic, political, work related life decisions. FOR YOU and not with you too. And certain groups are nearly always excluded for advancements. Not only within schooling either. I though the identity bases in their politics and the "coffin" questions to admittance more than enlightening. Because I've heard them from the horse's mouth from Russian immigrants to the Chicago area. Some just in this decade too. Hard to get in, hard to get out. And you better not talk any other language but Russian in the schools, either.
But this book is far more. It's about the patterns of the past and the reality of the now. The USSR days and that break up period is most highlighted here.
In my own life I have been told all through every aspect of my earliest educational paths that Russia was the "enemy". From hiding under desks during the Cuban Missile Crisis to the dire warnings we got when the first Cosmonaut was shot into space. The people who read this have no real concept, I don't believe, of how we were taught that Russia wanted to bury us.
So it really did make me LOL when Obama made that remark about Russia's "power" or status effects being so minimal during those last years of his Presidency. Russia has immense geographical and cognition challenges. It does. It always has and it always will. No one in any country's hierarchy of observing their roles in the world (anywhere on Earth and not in the past, present or future) should ever forget it. When you don't have much at all, you often have "little to lose" and will toss in the lot. Putin's role and progression is typical of Russian past. The system of belief beyond just the Communism ideology has always been to sacrifice large proportions of the population to "same, same" group think. Huge proportions of the population have in every decade been sacrificed, censored/imprisoned, exiled to sure deaths, or full out just killed off in pograms or political "thought" correctness issues re secret police wars. Individuality think is "wrong" by its own prime concept from the get go. Regardless of what the decision or outcome of it will or might be.
These stories from witness in this book are mild compared to the stories I've heard from Ukrainians, Lithuanians, Russians, and Polish or Belgium 2nd generation which originated and in steps came out of Russia proper. The class system is stronger than ever now too. A couple of these people visit about once a decade. So it amazes me that some of the reviewers believe this is only "positing" the hardest facts and reality of politico Russia and mundane issues of Russian living. Commodities, shopping especially. It's far worse in tracts of Russia away from the cities than this book surmises, IMHO. And all the changes that these individuals had to bridge or try to bridge AS INDIVIDUALS through the "changes" (IMHO they always return to a authoritative/ totalitarian form) in this book? They were educated and "lucky" in class or placement- you should hear the stories of those that were not. I've heard dozens. Mostly from home health workers here in the USA and people who had nursing skills and even degrees within Russia. Work does NOT insure a consequence of advancement or profit. Much works exactly the opposite. Slower you go the more you get.
It loses a star for the depth and tangent prose method. But I truly appreciated the chart with name and relationship definition to age and method for naming /title used for this book in the previewed section before the copy began.
It's more difficult than just that though. It's also at times erudite and deep in direction. As is the Russian "awareness" and "ideal" dichotomy. And it truly is hard to parse where any individuality or any approach to "equality" is ever a discerning regard or particularly defined within Russia. It's ALWAYS a top down worldview with something like a "father" who "knows better" making nearly every possible bureaucratic, economic, political, work related life decisions. FOR YOU and not with you too. And certain groups are nearly always excluded for advancements. Not only within schooling either. I though the identity bases in their politics and the "coffin" questions to admittance more than enlightening. Because I've heard them from the horse's mouth from Russian immigrants to the Chicago area. Some just in this decade too. Hard to get in, hard to get out. And you better not talk any other language but Russian in the schools, either.
But this book is far more. It's about the patterns of the past and the reality of the now. The USSR days and that break up period is most highlighted here.
In my own life I have been told all through every aspect of my earliest educational paths that Russia was the "enemy". From hiding under desks during the Cuban Missile Crisis to the dire warnings we got when the first Cosmonaut was shot into space. The people who read this have no real concept, I don't believe, of how we were taught that Russia wanted to bury us.
So it really did make me LOL when Obama made that remark about Russia's "power" or status effects being so minimal during those last years of his Presidency. Russia has immense geographical and cognition challenges. It does. It always has and it always will. No one in any country's hierarchy of observing their roles in the world (anywhere on Earth and not in the past, present or future) should ever forget it. When you don't have much at all, you often have "little to lose" and will toss in the lot. Putin's role and progression is typical of Russian past. The system of belief beyond just the Communism ideology has always been to sacrifice large proportions of the population to "same, same" group think. Huge proportions of the population have in every decade been sacrificed, censored/imprisoned, exiled to sure deaths, or full out just killed off in pograms or political "thought" correctness issues re secret police wars. Individuality think is "wrong" by its own prime concept from the get go. Regardless of what the decision or outcome of it will or might be.
These stories from witness in this book are mild compared to the stories I've heard from Ukrainians, Lithuanians, Russians, and Polish or Belgium 2nd generation which originated and in steps came out of Russia proper. The class system is stronger than ever now too. A couple of these people visit about once a decade. So it amazes me that some of the reviewers believe this is only "positing" the hardest facts and reality of politico Russia and mundane issues of Russian living. Commodities, shopping especially. It's far worse in tracts of Russia away from the cities than this book surmises, IMHO. And all the changes that these individuals had to bridge or try to bridge AS INDIVIDUALS through the "changes" (IMHO they always return to a authoritative/ totalitarian form) in this book? They were educated and "lucky" in class or placement- you should hear the stories of those that were not. I've heard dozens. Mostly from home health workers here in the USA and people who had nursing skills and even degrees within Russia. Work does NOT insure a consequence of advancement or profit. Much works exactly the opposite. Slower you go the more you get.
It loses a star for the depth and tangent prose method. But I truly appreciated the chart with name and relationship definition to age and method for naming /title used for this book in the previewed section before the copy began.
April 16, 2022
Several years ago I read Masha Gessen’s The Man Without a Face: The Unlikely Rise of Vladimir Putin. It was memorable and ominous, and I meant to follow it up with reading The Future Is History. It has taken me a while to get to it, but now, with the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I realized that I needed to turn to Gessen to help me understand. What an excellent book.
Gessen focuses primarily on a selection of educated Russians born in the 1980s, exploring how Russia moved from seemingly the collapse of totalitarianism to its resurgence. In doing so, she explores as well how different thinkers have thought about totalitarianism (and its application to Russia), and how social sciences have grown and been constrained in Russia over the past few decades. The chapters exploring one protagonist’s efforts to build a gender studies department in his university in the face of rising and violent anti-LGBT action (often equated with being against Western- or Jewish-influenced ‘pedophilia’) was especially heartbreaking.
And geopolitics. The news cycle is such that what’s going on now in Ukraine is apt to feel sudden and quite new to many of us. But what an inexorable build-up it’s been, as Gessen’s book, even though published in 2017, makes painfully clear. Reading about the Russian reaction to NATO’s intervention in Kosovo, the valorizing of Russian/Eurasian identity versus Western human-rights-mindedness, the association of the latter with Ukraine’s Orange Revolution, the annexation of Crimea…coupled with the exploration of Putin’s support in Russia, it’s apparent the current tragedy has been a long time coming and is not easily fixed.
The only flaw in my reading experience, and it is my flaw, was my difficulty in sorting out who was who, notwithstanding frequent resort to the list of dramatis personae.
Gessen focuses primarily on a selection of educated Russians born in the 1980s, exploring how Russia moved from seemingly the collapse of totalitarianism to its resurgence. In doing so, she explores as well how different thinkers have thought about totalitarianism (and its application to Russia), and how social sciences have grown and been constrained in Russia over the past few decades. The chapters exploring one protagonist’s efforts to build a gender studies department in his university in the face of rising and violent anti-LGBT action (often equated with being against Western- or Jewish-influenced ‘pedophilia’) was especially heartbreaking.
And geopolitics. The news cycle is such that what’s going on now in Ukraine is apt to feel sudden and quite new to many of us. But what an inexorable build-up it’s been, as Gessen’s book, even though published in 2017, makes painfully clear. Reading about the Russian reaction to NATO’s intervention in Kosovo, the valorizing of Russian/Eurasian identity versus Western human-rights-mindedness, the association of the latter with Ukraine’s Orange Revolution, the annexation of Crimea…coupled with the exploration of Putin’s support in Russia, it’s apparent the current tragedy has been a long time coming and is not easily fixed.
The only flaw in my reading experience, and it is my flaw, was my difficulty in sorting out who was who, notwithstanding frequent resort to the list of dramatis personae.
June 17, 2019
It seems to be that I have little enough time for reading this year, let alone writing reviews that might do full justice to a book like this, which will be one of the most important books I read this year.
through telling the stories of seven individuals, Gessen tracks the return slide of Russia into totalitarianism over three decades, after what seemed to be a period of liberalisation following the fall of Stalin and then the disaggregation of the USSR..
Late in the book she asks whether Russia ever really moved away from totalitarian modes of operation and, sadly, seems to conclude that it didn't.
There are fascinating discussions on the nature of totalitarianism, what it demands of populations controlled by totalitarian structures and how people are affected by it. The sections on the psychological and physical effects of living in unpredictable, repressive and dangerous conditions like those in Russia are particularly illuminating.
Essential political reading.
through telling the stories of seven individuals, Gessen tracks the return slide of Russia into totalitarianism over three decades, after what seemed to be a period of liberalisation following the fall of Stalin and then the disaggregation of the USSR..
Late in the book she asks whether Russia ever really moved away from totalitarian modes of operation and, sadly, seems to conclude that it didn't.
There are fascinating discussions on the nature of totalitarianism, what it demands of populations controlled by totalitarian structures and how people are affected by it. The sections on the psychological and physical effects of living in unpredictable, repressive and dangerous conditions like those in Russia are particularly illuminating.
Essential political reading.
March 18, 2018
‘The Future is History’ is a subtle and unusual work of contemporary history, if that isn’t too much of a tautology. Masha Gessen attempts to elucidate the last twenty years in Russia through the lives of four people who grew up after the fall of the USSR. It confirms the message of Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible: The Surreal Heart of the New Russia, that life under Putin is characterised by complete disorientation. Gessen discusses the nature of Putin’s regime from several angles, including consideration of whether it has an actual ideology and to what extent it is authoritarian. What emerges is a complex but fundamentally depressing picture. Whatever it is, Putinism has become more repressive, aggressive, and entrenched as the years have passed. Journalists and activists are at greater and greater risk of imprisonment, beatings, exile, and assassination. Most shockingly, homophobic rhetoric has intensified to a fever pitch on the basis of a hysterical hunt for paedophiles. One of the four subjects of the book is a gay academic who gradually finds his work ignored and suppressed. I hadn’t realised what a slew of virulently homophobic laws Russia had passed - LGBT people are apparently the current political scapegoat.
The study of social sciences in Russia is a theme throughout the book, as without them it is impossible to understand what’s happening to society and culture. A psychoanalyst considers the generational impact of Russia’s traumatic past, while a sociologist tries to capture public sentiment via surveys. Gessen avoids any simple or easy answers about Russia’s seeming fatalism and confused nostalgia. Not that these symptoms are unique to Russia (Brexit is certainly a manifestation of both), however their Russian version seems especially intense and peculiar. Gessen suggests that many think there is no future in the country and it’s best to leave; others that a return to the USSR is needed to restore perceived former glories. There is very little mention of Trump and Russia’s apparent interference in US politics, however the depiction of Putin’s regime made me realise that America is definitely becoming more like Russia. Trump has brought Putin’s hardcore nepotism to the US presidency, as well as his contradictory and aggressive rhetoric. Both seem to hold onto power, despite obviously terrible policies, by undermining institutions and inducing a disorientating cognitive dissonance. It’s funny that after the fall of the iron curtain Russia was expected to imitate the US. Now things are going the other way.
Geopolitics aren’t the focus of this book, though. It attempts to explain the life experiences of a few Russians in the context of national political changes, making no claims that these handful of people represent the population at large. Gessen asks why protests suddenly erupt, why they seemingly have no lasting consequences, and how nationalist sentiment waxes and wanes. She wonders why life expectancy in Russia is so bad and what happened during the invasion of Ukraine. All this is carefully woven together into a compelling narrative. There is something unsettling about reading a history that’s within my lifetime. It also makes the pseudo-objective distance of the historian impossible to manufacture, which I appreciated. Gessen tries to reconstruct and contextualise confused, suppressed, and poorly documented events in Russia from 1984 to today, no mean feat. I found ‘The Future is History’ a fascinating and unique read, one that made me more worried about Russia’s current geopolitical activities.
The study of social sciences in Russia is a theme throughout the book, as without them it is impossible to understand what’s happening to society and culture. A psychoanalyst considers the generational impact of Russia’s traumatic past, while a sociologist tries to capture public sentiment via surveys. Gessen avoids any simple or easy answers about Russia’s seeming fatalism and confused nostalgia. Not that these symptoms are unique to Russia (Brexit is certainly a manifestation of both), however their Russian version seems especially intense and peculiar. Gessen suggests that many think there is no future in the country and it’s best to leave; others that a return to the USSR is needed to restore perceived former glories. There is very little mention of Trump and Russia’s apparent interference in US politics, however the depiction of Putin’s regime made me realise that America is definitely becoming more like Russia. Trump has brought Putin’s hardcore nepotism to the US presidency, as well as his contradictory and aggressive rhetoric. Both seem to hold onto power, despite obviously terrible policies, by undermining institutions and inducing a disorientating cognitive dissonance. It’s funny that after the fall of the iron curtain Russia was expected to imitate the US. Now things are going the other way.
Geopolitics aren’t the focus of this book, though. It attempts to explain the life experiences of a few Russians in the context of national political changes, making no claims that these handful of people represent the population at large. Gessen asks why protests suddenly erupt, why they seemingly have no lasting consequences, and how nationalist sentiment waxes and wanes. She wonders why life expectancy in Russia is so bad and what happened during the invasion of Ukraine. All this is carefully woven together into a compelling narrative. There is something unsettling about reading a history that’s within my lifetime. It also makes the pseudo-objective distance of the historian impossible to manufacture, which I appreciated. Gessen tries to reconstruct and contextualise confused, suppressed, and poorly documented events in Russia from 1984 to today, no mean feat. I found ‘The Future is History’ a fascinating and unique read, one that made me more worried about Russia’s current geopolitical activities.
March 9, 2019
Fantastisk, läs och förstå dagens Ryssland. Det blir inte bättre än så här.
![Profile Image for laurel [the suspected bibliophile].](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/users/1645808644i/7494844._UX200_CR0,6,200,200_.jpg)
January 21, 2024
An in-depth look at the rise of totalitarianism in Russia.
This was published in 2017 but still feels so current, and so on track with what is happening. Putin's unswerving dedication to taking more and more and more territory, and pushing back the social progress made since the fall of the Soviet Union.
There are also so many parallels to what is happening in the US right now (and during the Trump presidency), painting a really bleak portrait of the world overall. Especially with the emphasis on "focusing on family values" (read: homophobic values), calling LGBTQ+ people paedophiles, and sowing a general sense of anxiety and hopelessness for the future through media outlets.
It's very clear that difference unites us and makes us stronger. Celebrating difference, accepting difference, cherishing difference. Instead of enforcing conformity and unity, which only turns us inward, making those in power stronger and those without weaker and always looking over their shoulder for danger.
This was published in 2017 but still feels so current, and so on track with what is happening. Putin's unswerving dedication to taking more and more and more territory, and pushing back the social progress made since the fall of the Soviet Union.
There are also so many parallels to what is happening in the US right now (and during the Trump presidency), painting a really bleak portrait of the world overall. Especially with the emphasis on "focusing on family values" (read: homophobic values), calling LGBTQ+ people paedophiles, and sowing a general sense of anxiety and hopelessness for the future through media outlets.
It's very clear that difference unites us and makes us stronger. Celebrating difference, accepting difference, cherishing difference. Instead of enforcing conformity and unity, which only turns us inward, making those in power stronger and those without weaker and always looking over their shoulder for danger.
August 29, 2020
Okay, so meandering story before review, but damn did Gessen ever put this shaggy dog into context. About ten years or so ago, I was looking around for movies featuring an up-and-coming Russian actor. About five years prior, I'd seen him in a great film directed by his father, and he’d since gone on to do a lot of interesting projects. To my shock and sadness, I learned that said actor had been killed in an avalanche, and in searching for more news, I stumbled across a guy with the same name--and my first mad scientist.
He, along with several other (prominent from what I could tell) Russian scientists had a plan to colonize Antarctica for the purpose of bypassing the worldwide cloning ban in order to (wait for it) harvest...headless...human...clones.
From there, they would have the organ bits to extend life by 500 years, giving them that extra leeway to work on more feasible routes to immortality. I emailed him and asked for an interview. He not only obliged but offered me a knighthood in Antarctica if I could help him bring in Japanese investors.
His country had a name: Immortia.
His country had national anthem: Forever Young. THAT Forever Young.
His country had freshly-minted stamps that passed smoothly through the Russian post.
The whole time we were corresponding, I kept wondering if he was actually, really, really for real: My cynical Gen X brain was meeting the X-Men villain from my childhood, and he was just as thoughtful and charming as Magneto. How was this happening?
Then I read this book and learned about a scientist who believes space radiation is a cause of ethnic differences. And he is only ONE of a cast of many.
Now, mad scientists aren't a surprise in themselves, and America has had its share of anti-vaccer kooks, etc, but those guys tend to run on a mix of willful ignorance and laziness, dabbed with a desire to star in their own SyFy apocalypse dramas. Gessen lays out an environment in which such dangerous kookiness is gestated not from the above, but the powerful desire for knowledge when you’ve only got access to crumbs. Some of these people become heroes, others turn into totalitarians spewing racist, homophobic bile, but at least in the first hundred pages, you’ll admire their stone cold determination to learn and sympathize with their sense of betrayal when confronted with genuine expertise. If Americans are examples of the Dunning-Kruger effect, everyone here is Jude the Obscure. It’s just that some of them turn into Lex Luthor.
It’s a terrifying book on a number of levels, particularly its coverage of the rise and then swift decline in support, and finally persecution, of queer people in Russia. I'm pretty sure Emily's story in The Handmaid's Tale series relied more on this book than it did Atwood’s novel.
As for my prince, he was less dangerous than sweet. In our last exchange, he sent me a photo of his wife. "We're not married anymore," he wrote. “But she is still a princess."
My partner is still mad at me for not taking him up on that knighthood.
He, along with several other (prominent from what I could tell) Russian scientists had a plan to colonize Antarctica for the purpose of bypassing the worldwide cloning ban in order to (wait for it) harvest...headless...human...clones.
From there, they would have the organ bits to extend life by 500 years, giving them that extra leeway to work on more feasible routes to immortality. I emailed him and asked for an interview. He not only obliged but offered me a knighthood in Antarctica if I could help him bring in Japanese investors.
His country had a name: Immortia.
His country had national anthem: Forever Young. THAT Forever Young.
His country had freshly-minted stamps that passed smoothly through the Russian post.
The whole time we were corresponding, I kept wondering if he was actually, really, really for real: My cynical Gen X brain was meeting the X-Men villain from my childhood, and he was just as thoughtful and charming as Magneto. How was this happening?
Then I read this book and learned about a scientist who believes space radiation is a cause of ethnic differences. And he is only ONE of a cast of many.
Now, mad scientists aren't a surprise in themselves, and America has had its share of anti-vaccer kooks, etc, but those guys tend to run on a mix of willful ignorance and laziness, dabbed with a desire to star in their own SyFy apocalypse dramas. Gessen lays out an environment in which such dangerous kookiness is gestated not from the above, but the powerful desire for knowledge when you’ve only got access to crumbs. Some of these people become heroes, others turn into totalitarians spewing racist, homophobic bile, but at least in the first hundred pages, you’ll admire their stone cold determination to learn and sympathize with their sense of betrayal when confronted with genuine expertise. If Americans are examples of the Dunning-Kruger effect, everyone here is Jude the Obscure. It’s just that some of them turn into Lex Luthor.
It’s a terrifying book on a number of levels, particularly its coverage of the rise and then swift decline in support, and finally persecution, of queer people in Russia. I'm pretty sure Emily's story in The Handmaid's Tale series relied more on this book than it did Atwood’s novel.
As for my prince, he was less dangerous than sweet. In our last exchange, he sent me a photo of his wife. "We're not married anymore," he wrote. “But she is still a princess."
My partner is still mad at me for not taking him up on that knighthood.
August 28, 2018
I should start by saying that I think Gessen is a fantastic writer and her central thesis is completely on target, if a bit obvious (Russia is going back to it’s totalitarian ways and we shouldn’t be surprised).
But I had two main issues: first, this book isn’t sure if it’s meant for people who know nothing about Russia or people who are well versed in Russian and soviet history and politics. There’s a lot of introduction but certainly not enough for the average reader who has no idea about things like the fact that Putin’s mother almost starved at Stalingrad. I think it misses the mark by trying to cater to both audiences at the same time and ultimately leaves both frustrated.
The second issue is that the book tries to do too much overall. I think the narrative device of telling the story of the USSRs demise and quasi-resurgence through the lens of several different people is a smart one. However, by trying to do both a fair and full accounting of each of their lives/experiences and also telling the more global story of the country as a whole, the reader is really left wanting. I think the most impactful storyline was perhaps the simplest (Lyosha, whose identity as a Russian gay man is the central source of his difficulty finding a place in Russian society). I think if you’re a die hard Gessen fan you should read this, but I would caveat that if so you probably know a lot of the stuff in this book already.
But I had two main issues: first, this book isn’t sure if it’s meant for people who know nothing about Russia or people who are well versed in Russian and soviet history and politics. There’s a lot of introduction but certainly not enough for the average reader who has no idea about things like the fact that Putin’s mother almost starved at Stalingrad. I think it misses the mark by trying to cater to both audiences at the same time and ultimately leaves both frustrated.
The second issue is that the book tries to do too much overall. I think the narrative device of telling the story of the USSRs demise and quasi-resurgence through the lens of several different people is a smart one. However, by trying to do both a fair and full accounting of each of their lives/experiences and also telling the more global story of the country as a whole, the reader is really left wanting. I think the most impactful storyline was perhaps the simplest (Lyosha, whose identity as a Russian gay man is the central source of his difficulty finding a place in Russian society). I think if you’re a die hard Gessen fan you should read this, but I would caveat that if so you probably know a lot of the stuff in this book already.
October 30, 2017
Quite an amazing book, part history, part novel, with good doses of sociology and philosophy thrown in. I think this is an important book that Americans should read to better understand post-Cold War Russia as well as the present political moment we're living through in our own country.
Masha Gessen tells the story of the late Soviet Union through the eyes of several Russians living in Moscow beginning in the late 80's. Like a Tolstoy novel, the cast is large and includes public figures such as Boris Nemtsov and Aleksandr Dugin as well as less well-known Russians like Lyosha, a young gay man, sociologist Lev Gudkov, a psychoanalyst named Marina Arutyunyan, and a young activist named Masha. The combination of many perspectives within a single narrative against the backdrop of history paints a nuanced picture of present day Russian society, allowing foreigners to perceive a level of complexity and subtlety not easily accessed by merely reading the news.
In one example, Gudkov's years of research conducting opinion surveys provide the reader with insight into Russian attitudes toward many social issues, such as how society should treat LGBT individuals, the handicapped, and other marginalized groups, as well as how these attitudes changed over time. Lyosha's firsthand experience of violence directed toward gay men combined with his difficulty pursuing his academic career serve to kindle empathy for the struggles that hundreds of thousands of Russians face daily.
The most frightening (though enlightening) point of view, however, is Dugin's. The book follows Dugin from his early days as an anti-communist dissident through his present station as a key ideologue within the "Eurasian" movement and nationalist conservatism more generally. Some have drawn comparisons between Steve Bannon and Dugin, as well as to their roles with their respective rulers. At the core of Dugin's philosophy lies the idea of "Fourth Political Theory," meaning that the backward-looking authoritarian traditionalism he espouses represents the fourth great wave in political ideology, with the prior three being liberalism, communism, and fascism. Rather than viewing events in Russian history such as the Mongol occupation like the West typically does (as a period that hindered the development of inclusive political institutions in favor of colonial extraction), Dugin claims that these events have formed a uniquely Eurasian culture with values fundamentally different than those of the democratic West.
Specifically, Dugin views notions such as representative democracy, pluralism, and tolerance as Western cultural exports at odds with the fundamental character of Russian society. His philosophy at its heart rejects modernity and longs for a return to a glorious Russia of the past, loosely defined around a set of rural conservative religious and cultural values that stand in opposition to the liberal beliefs of the West and the urban elite. To Dugin, Francis Fukayama's famous "end of history" embodied in the end of the Cold War meant the triumph of liberalism over communism, following liberalism's earlier defeat of fascism. Rather than accepting the "maternal" view of history represented by the global victory of liberalism and moving steadily toward the implementation of Western-style institutions within modern Russia, Dugin's Fourth Political Theory unapologetically advocates a patriarchal worldview, with liberalism at home and abroad as the chief enemy.
It isn't difficult to see the appeal of Dugin's position to Trumpists and the American alt-right, whose chief adversary also seems to be liberalism. (Racist community organizer Richard Spencer's wife once worked as Dugin's translator.) Gessen's book, however, makes clear that Dugin's ideas are at their core adversarial to the United States, which serves as an object of resentment for the chaos that befell Russian society in the early 90's. Interventions like the US bombing of Serbia that few Americans keenly remember loom large in Russian nationalism and act as a reminder of how the US humiliated Russia at a time of weakness. While most Americans spent the 00's preoccupied with the aftermath of 9/11 and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, Russia seethed with sense of grievance over what it perceived to be US arrogance and unchecked aggression, including NATO expansion into Russia's East European security buffer.
Masha Gessen's book is eye-opening in more ways than I can easily recount. (I haven't even mentioned her application of Hannah Arendt's ideas on totalitarianism to Russia's current situation.) The similarities between Russia and the United States under Donald Trump are troubling, but I'm optimistic that our institutional fabric will prove unconducive to "Duginism with American characteristics" (to borrow the phrasing the Chinese use to describe their variant of socialism). Yet if large swathes of American society continue to frame their agenda in terms of opposition to "liberalism," we remain vulnerable to Dugin's ideology poisoning our discourse. Eurasianism opposes not liberalism as the word is used in contemporary American parlance, but rather in the sense of the word that places both American liberals and conservatives within the liberal tradition as our founders would have defined it, combined with Adam Smith and David Ricardo's concepts of economic liberalism (in the form of free market capitalism) balanced by democratically enacted social measures to ensure fairness. I hope more people read Gessen's book to better understand contemporary Russia, the nature of modern totalitarianism, and the dangers that Dugin’s ideas (with Putin as their advocate) pose to the democratic West.
Masha Gessen tells the story of the late Soviet Union through the eyes of several Russians living in Moscow beginning in the late 80's. Like a Tolstoy novel, the cast is large and includes public figures such as Boris Nemtsov and Aleksandr Dugin as well as less well-known Russians like Lyosha, a young gay man, sociologist Lev Gudkov, a psychoanalyst named Marina Arutyunyan, and a young activist named Masha. The combination of many perspectives within a single narrative against the backdrop of history paints a nuanced picture of present day Russian society, allowing foreigners to perceive a level of complexity and subtlety not easily accessed by merely reading the news.
In one example, Gudkov's years of research conducting opinion surveys provide the reader with insight into Russian attitudes toward many social issues, such as how society should treat LGBT individuals, the handicapped, and other marginalized groups, as well as how these attitudes changed over time. Lyosha's firsthand experience of violence directed toward gay men combined with his difficulty pursuing his academic career serve to kindle empathy for the struggles that hundreds of thousands of Russians face daily.
The most frightening (though enlightening) point of view, however, is Dugin's. The book follows Dugin from his early days as an anti-communist dissident through his present station as a key ideologue within the "Eurasian" movement and nationalist conservatism more generally. Some have drawn comparisons between Steve Bannon and Dugin, as well as to their roles with their respective rulers. At the core of Dugin's philosophy lies the idea of "Fourth Political Theory," meaning that the backward-looking authoritarian traditionalism he espouses represents the fourth great wave in political ideology, with the prior three being liberalism, communism, and fascism. Rather than viewing events in Russian history such as the Mongol occupation like the West typically does (as a period that hindered the development of inclusive political institutions in favor of colonial extraction), Dugin claims that these events have formed a uniquely Eurasian culture with values fundamentally different than those of the democratic West.
Specifically, Dugin views notions such as representative democracy, pluralism, and tolerance as Western cultural exports at odds with the fundamental character of Russian society. His philosophy at its heart rejects modernity and longs for a return to a glorious Russia of the past, loosely defined around a set of rural conservative religious and cultural values that stand in opposition to the liberal beliefs of the West and the urban elite. To Dugin, Francis Fukayama's famous "end of history" embodied in the end of the Cold War meant the triumph of liberalism over communism, following liberalism's earlier defeat of fascism. Rather than accepting the "maternal" view of history represented by the global victory of liberalism and moving steadily toward the implementation of Western-style institutions within modern Russia, Dugin's Fourth Political Theory unapologetically advocates a patriarchal worldview, with liberalism at home and abroad as the chief enemy.
It isn't difficult to see the appeal of Dugin's position to Trumpists and the American alt-right, whose chief adversary also seems to be liberalism. (Racist community organizer Richard Spencer's wife once worked as Dugin's translator.) Gessen's book, however, makes clear that Dugin's ideas are at their core adversarial to the United States, which serves as an object of resentment for the chaos that befell Russian society in the early 90's. Interventions like the US bombing of Serbia that few Americans keenly remember loom large in Russian nationalism and act as a reminder of how the US humiliated Russia at a time of weakness. While most Americans spent the 00's preoccupied with the aftermath of 9/11 and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, Russia seethed with sense of grievance over what it perceived to be US arrogance and unchecked aggression, including NATO expansion into Russia's East European security buffer.
Masha Gessen's book is eye-opening in more ways than I can easily recount. (I haven't even mentioned her application of Hannah Arendt's ideas on totalitarianism to Russia's current situation.) The similarities between Russia and the United States under Donald Trump are troubling, but I'm optimistic that our institutional fabric will prove unconducive to "Duginism with American characteristics" (to borrow the phrasing the Chinese use to describe their variant of socialism). Yet if large swathes of American society continue to frame their agenda in terms of opposition to "liberalism," we remain vulnerable to Dugin's ideology poisoning our discourse. Eurasianism opposes not liberalism as the word is used in contemporary American parlance, but rather in the sense of the word that places both American liberals and conservatives within the liberal tradition as our founders would have defined it, combined with Adam Smith and David Ricardo's concepts of economic liberalism (in the form of free market capitalism) balanced by democratically enacted social measures to ensure fairness. I hope more people read Gessen's book to better understand contemporary Russia, the nature of modern totalitarianism, and the dangers that Dugin’s ideas (with Putin as their advocate) pose to the democratic West.
September 23, 2018
An important book, if a depressing one. Masha Gessen is a gay, Jewish journalist who was born in the Soviet Union - a country that remains, even now re-established as Russia, virulently anti-homosexual, anti-Semitic, and anti-intellectual. She presents the case that Russia is still a totalitarian state, despite its claims of being an election-driven democracy. The underlying message is that creating a totalitarian regime - one that provides answers for everything and exerts control over every aspect of life - requires psychological conditioning and scaffolding that can't be easily dismantled. As a result, the so-called democracy formed in 1993 was ripe for the rise of Putin and his practice of corruption, recrimination, media control, and rigged elections.
Gessen seeks to tell a story of Russian life on many levels, and she does so by jumping from character to character, from poor family to university professor to political elite to political outsider. I listened to the audio book, and it was incredibly hard to follow this large cast. Her pronunciations are of course spot-on, but that makes it hard to Google a name that starts with an "N" but sounds like it starts with a "Y" the way she's saying it. Or she returns to someone we haven't heard about for a while and it's hard to recall their place in the narrative. There was also a character named Masha, and I was confused for a long time, entertaining the possibility that those sections were autobiographical (they're not). The book also jumps chronologically between the rules of Lenin, Stalin, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, Putin (and briefly Medvedev), and many others in between. For someone who lacks a deep understanding of Russian culture and history, this was difficult to track. I still learned a lot, though, and it was helpful to learn the meanings of terms I'd heard before like Perestroika (restructuring to allow more political freedom and free market capitalism that sadly backfired) and Glasnost (openness and transparency).
The stories themselves are depressing. If you try to speak out against the government, you are simply beaten by a police officer. Or paid a visit by a paid thug. Or poisoned. Or thrown in jail as part of a policy against pedophiles. At no point is there an option for appeal, or recourse to right the wrong. The perpetrators are removed from blame or prosecution, and the denials are thick and dishonest. Graft and corruption is just part of daily life, and no one bats an eye. Marriages are assumed to dissolve, and infidelity is expected (especially, and conveniently, for men). The populace has learned that the key to survival is believing and parroting anything the government-run media tells you to believe, and as a result the citizenry (darkly and comedically referred to as "Homo Sovieticus") no longer knows how to harbor its own opinions on matters of state.
This is the worst travel brochure imaginable for Russia, and I have no desire to visit there if I ever did before. These stories are foreboding in our current US climate, in which regard for truth, evidence and common decency is at a frightening low for much of the population. The Future Is History makes it clear just how long the paroxysms of ignorance and corruption can last.
Gessen seeks to tell a story of Russian life on many levels, and she does so by jumping from character to character, from poor family to university professor to political elite to political outsider. I listened to the audio book, and it was incredibly hard to follow this large cast. Her pronunciations are of course spot-on, but that makes it hard to Google a name that starts with an "N" but sounds like it starts with a "Y" the way she's saying it. Or she returns to someone we haven't heard about for a while and it's hard to recall their place in the narrative. There was also a character named Masha, and I was confused for a long time, entertaining the possibility that those sections were autobiographical (they're not). The book also jumps chronologically between the rules of Lenin, Stalin, Gorbachev, Yeltsin, Putin (and briefly Medvedev), and many others in between. For someone who lacks a deep understanding of Russian culture and history, this was difficult to track. I still learned a lot, though, and it was helpful to learn the meanings of terms I'd heard before like Perestroika (restructuring to allow more political freedom and free market capitalism that sadly backfired) and Glasnost (openness and transparency).
The stories themselves are depressing. If you try to speak out against the government, you are simply beaten by a police officer. Or paid a visit by a paid thug. Or poisoned. Or thrown in jail as part of a policy against pedophiles. At no point is there an option for appeal, or recourse to right the wrong. The perpetrators are removed from blame or prosecution, and the denials are thick and dishonest. Graft and corruption is just part of daily life, and no one bats an eye. Marriages are assumed to dissolve, and infidelity is expected (especially, and conveniently, for men). The populace has learned that the key to survival is believing and parroting anything the government-run media tells you to believe, and as a result the citizenry (darkly and comedically referred to as "Homo Sovieticus") no longer knows how to harbor its own opinions on matters of state.
This is the worst travel brochure imaginable for Russia, and I have no desire to visit there if I ever did before. These stories are foreboding in our current US climate, in which regard for truth, evidence and common decency is at a frightening low for much of the population. The Future Is History makes it clear just how long the paroxysms of ignorance and corruption can last.
March 19, 2018
30th book for 2018.
By following the lives of four Russians, born in the early 1980s, Gessen offers a fascinating insight into the failure of democracy to take root in Russia and the birth Putin as dictator.
The book is particularly powerful as it skillfully describes macro-level changes in Russian society, while always keeping a focus on the personal, idiosyncratic trajectories of individuals attempting to navigate a constantly changing society.
It is impossible to read this and not be fearful of what will become of Russia and the West.
5-stars.
By following the lives of four Russians, born in the early 1980s, Gessen offers a fascinating insight into the failure of democracy to take root in Russia and the birth Putin as dictator.
The book is particularly powerful as it skillfully describes macro-level changes in Russian society, while always keeping a focus on the personal, idiosyncratic trajectories of individuals attempting to navigate a constantly changing society.
It is impossible to read this and not be fearful of what will become of Russia and the West.
5-stars.
May 26, 2020
My eyes have certainly been opened by this book. So much of this history I had absolutely no idea had happened. There's so much information packed into this book. Telling the story by following the thread of the lives of children born in the 1980s helps make sense of it all, but by the end I felt I had fallen into chaos--no doubt a reflection of the state of things in Russia. I am feeling less optimistic about our world but actually--strangely--more optimistic about the U.S.A.
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