Welcome or, Welcome back! -- whether you are starting your thesis, starting Reed, or somewhere in between. It's great to be able to meet and converse in person, and gratifying to see the thoughtful and responsible actions that keep our classes and community together physically.
We welcome two new members to the department: Xue Zhang, who is teaching Humanities 231/2 and Chinese and East Asian history conferences; and Liz Matsushita, who is teaching Humanities 110 and conferences in North African and Middle Eastern history. Administratively, I (David) am rotating into the position of chair (thank you, Josh, for your leadership and servicel).
I confess that I was so flummoxed by what to write in the Chair's letter that I had to ask for an extension. I am generally flummoxed these days: as a child of the Cold War who graduated from college just as the Berlin Wall fell, the global meta-narrative of my life had been (part I) the Cold War and the "victory" of the US, the "West," "capitalism," in the competition with the USSR, "the Soviet Bloc", "communism"; and (part 11) the move to a neo-liberal world that was "the end of history." Then, suddenly, chapter SO-something of the novel that is my life introduced an abrupt shift in the larger narrative, and started a (part Ill) that is still undefined, and shows that history is certainly not over.
In my confusion, I dedicated much of my summer reading to Ukraine, to modern East Slavic history, to the "Pale of Settlement", to the region and time that Tim Snyder hauntingly calls "the Bloodlands.'~ There is no single name for the vast lowland basin formed as the Dniester, the Dnieper and the Don flow to the Black Sea. Today, it is divided into Ukraine, Moldova, Belarus, western Russia; the Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth, the Russian Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Ottoman empire all claimed parts of it. Different terms, different understandings of history, of identity, but all gesturing at the same place: a region in Europe that has repeatedly over the past century and a half been the site of astounding human violence.
In graduate school I often TAed for modern European history lecture classes, so nothing in the details or evidence in Snyder's book surprised me, horrible though they are. Snyder challenges the historical consciousness of the us and western Europe not through novel facts, but through perspective. He rejects viewing the Bloodlands through nationalist lenses, or through the binary of Axis/Allies. He equally resists interpreting this history through simple capitalist/fascist/communist divisions. Snyder calls on us to engage the region's history from the vantage point of the Bloodlands themselves. He argues straightforwardly that tfle central conflict in both World Wars was control of tflis vast, rich agricultural region. Because of Snyder's book (with my apologies to Downton Abbey and post-1918 European humanities), I now view the Eastern Front as more important in World War I (1914-18) as well as in World War II (1939-45): a staggering death toll; the collapse, first, of the Russian empire, and then of its Austro- Hungarian and Ottoman neighbors; the reversal by the Versailles Treaty of 1919 of a commanding victory for Germany in the east. Snyder's history of 20th century Europe is one of multi-ethnic empires broken apart by war; of the violent ideology of nationalism that structured their post-war division; and of tfle oppression, erasure, and mass murder of "minorities" within these new nation-states (including the performatively multi-national Soviet Union). For Snyder, the question of whether the Nazi regime or Soviet regime killed more people in the Bloodlands misses the point: the famine of the Holodomor, the murders and gulags of the purges, the anti-semitic genocide of the Holocaust, are chapters in the same history. And viewing the past century from the perspective of Kyiv, of Minsk, of Crimea and Lviv, 9ives us radically different understanding than viewing it from Washington, London, Paris, or Portland.
Snyder's understanding of the Bloodlands draws from that of Babi Yar: A Document in the Form of a Novel, written in the 1960s by Anatoly Kuznetsov~ Kuznetsov was a 12-year old boy in Kyiv when the Germans occupied the city and massacred much of the city's Jewish population in the ravine of Babi var over a weeklong period in 1941. A censored edition of Sabi Yar was published in Russia in 1966; in 1968, Kuznetsov escaped the Soviet Union carrying microfilm of the original manuscript. He published a revised and expanded edition in Russian and then in English m the 1970s. It's an extraordinary work of history and art, one that views three years of German occupation and genocidal violence through the eyes of a boy entering his teens. Gazing on that violence with a directness that stuns, Sabi Yar also offers a scathing critique of the "official" history of the Great Patriotic War so central to the Soviet Union's historical consciousness and mythology, and that of Russia today.
The violence to which Ukraine is subject today is morally no different, no more important, no more grievous than that suffered by millions in all corners of the world. However, in how they affect human history politically, economically, and ideologically, some places, times, and events have an outsize impact. Snyder argues that the Bloodlands are such a place and time. Recent academic history has examined how the triumphal meta-narratives of imperialism and liberal progress that still structure many popular and academic understandings of the past, have blinded us to other, equally compelling histories. And when the present refuses to follow the scripts we want to impose on it, rethinking those that we have imposed on the past can perhaps help us see the present a bit more clearly.
Wishing all of us a great year, and stay tuned for the our History Department Social and Schmoozefest later this semester!
David Garrett