For the last two weeks, H-Russia (a list serv/discussion board catering largely to academics and graduate students) has hosted a lively debate regarding utility of the term “backwardness” in studying and describing the history of Russia. The discussion emerged out of a previous thread devoted to foreign travelers’ accounts of Russia, many of which (like the one penned by the Marquis de Custine in 1839) depicted Russians and Russia in what can only be described as highly unfavorable terms. Contributors to the debate quickly came to focus on the “utility” of backwardness as an analytical tool. Several responded with the predictably post-modern proposition that “backward” is a hierarchical and derogatory “construct” that denigrates Russian “uniqueness” by measuring the country’s accomplishments against an arbitrary yardstick of “development” established by the West. Other seemed to suggest that, at best, backwardness is an unhelpful throwback that neither clarifies or advances understanding about Russia’s history and current place in the world.

With the exception of a few qualified (and reasonable) statements regarding Russia’s historical levels of economic and industrial underdevelopment, it seems that many participants in the discussion are prepared to throw backwardness off of the ship of scholarly analysis.

I think the opponents of backwardness are wrong.

Before going further, I should clarify (in light this post from Nathaniel Knight on 10/24) that I am not interested in backwardness because I find it to be a convenient tool for pontificating about the failings of Russia or Russians. I am not “relentlessly” (or even remotely) “anti-Russian.” Nor am I advocating that “the West is best.” (It isn’t, except when it is.) What I am interested in is the extent to which backwardness, a peculiar, recurring theme in the history of Russia, helps historians to better comprehend the underlying cultural traits and characteristics that have shaped the ways in which Russian citizens and state officials have approached the problematic issue of modernization.

That much having been said, I think that the concept of backwardness is not only useful, it is essential to understanding Russia’s past. Without it, much (if not all) of Russia’s 19th- and 20th-century history is difficult to comprehend.

Here, on 10/24, David Goldfrank ruminated that the West “has been awfully good at setting such trajectories [of development and progress] as the ideal.” I think that comments of this sort reveal the cultural conceit that’s been an undercurrent of the H-Russia discussion from the beginning: namely, that the West forced upon Russians a (false?) consciousness of their “backwardness” in the face of the Western “superiority” (those scare quotes belong to others, not me.)

More concretely, aside from a handful of Harvard intellectuals in the mid-1990s, I’m having trouble thinking of Westerners who have traveled to Russia, carrying suitcases full of plans, intent on transforming the country along European lines. I have much less troubled coming up with numerous Russians who on their own traveled abroad only to return home wondering, “what’s wrong with Russia?” As Alex Martin noted in a much earlier post, it’s been Russians themselves (typically the county’s foremost thinkers and statesmen) who’ve acknowledged, criticized, and attempted to reverse Russia’s backwardness relative to the West. Are those who advocate that backwardness is a Western imposition suggesting that Tsar Peter the Great, Peter Chaadaev, Nikita Murav’ev, Pavel Pestel, Alexander Herzen (and countless others) weren’t thinking for themselves when they identified and condemned Russia’s backwardness while attempting to implement (or merely devise) projects for reform, based on Western models, that would enable Russia to catch-up with the West?

In short, I don’t see the argument that backwardness (together with its attendant concept progress) is a foreign “construct” forced upon the country by Westerners as convincing. In fact, I don’t even see it as an argument.

In a related matter, I am struck by the extent to which the H-Russia discussion has so far overlooked/ignored the historical sub-field that, arguably, has the most to contribute to this debate: the history of science and technology.

Tellingly, as regards science and technology, backward is not a relative, culturally “constructed” term. It is an objective, measurable fact. While it is true that technological progress is not inevitable or guaranteed, the reality is that since the mid-16th century, technology has developed at a dizzying pace (and the West has led the way). Over time, technology has become more complex. Insofar as it has also become capable of undertaking tasks more efficiently and effectively, it has improved. It has become more advanced. [For example, relative to an F-22 Raptor, the Blériot XI that first flew the English Channel in 1909 is backward.]

The point I want to raise is that Russia’s comparable level of technological development has been central to fostering Russians’ perception of their country’s general (social, cultural, political, etc.) backwardness. Moreover, the reality of technological backwardness is key to understanding the history of modern Russia because it has been intimately linked to the formation of Russian national identity, Russian understanding of their nation’s cultural/social development, and, very significantly, the manner in which both statesmen and citizens have attempted to modernize the country.

It is a pattern that has repeated itself with maddening regularity from the dawn of the 18th century to the present: an emerging (or sudden) recognition that Russian technological capabilities are sorely lagging behind those of the country’s western competitors spurs major reform efforts, directed by the state, which are intended to reverse decline and propel Russia into the front ranks of Europe’s leading nations. Seeking to “short cut” development, state agents rely heavily on the importation of advanced foreign technology, methods, and expertise. Improvements are made at great social and economic cost, progress (relative to Russia’s previous level of development) is achieved, only to result, in the span of a few years, in a renewed awareness of Russian backwardness accompanied by new calls for thoroughgoing reform.

In conclusion, it seems to me that the premises underlying much of the current H-Russia discussion are flawed and that the major questions posed thus far are misplaced.

Rather than asking “is backwardness a useful analytical tool?,” historians should be asking “How has technological backwardness shaped Russian responses to the challenges of social, cultural, and political, modernization?”

ScP