Abstract
Within the English School of International Relations the expansion of European International Society has always been regarded as an essentially European, western enterprise. However, the role that the Russian Empire played in expanding the institutions of international society into Central Asia remains quite neglected. By analysing primary sources and contemporary discourses about Russia’s civilisational status in the 19th century, this paper discusses the penetration of the Russian Empire in Central Asia in a socio-historical perspective, and argues that in the process of the expansion Russia’s Asiatic past weakened its status as a European power, and the value of its colonial enterprise. Using English School categories, this paper considers Russia as ‘a periphery in the centre’, and as a ‘less civilised civiliser’ in European International Society. In doing so, this paper seeks to explore an alternative way for the diffusion of norms and institutions of international society different from those of European ‘expansion’ or ‘inclusion’: that of ‘mediated expansion’.
‘The who, which appears so clearly and unmistakably to others, remains hidden from the person himself’
1
Introduction
In Hedley Bull and Adam Watson’s ‘The Expansion of International Society’ 2 Russia’s position in 19th-century European International Society (henceforth EIS) as a full civilised, western power is uncontested and taken for granted. After Peter the Great’s reforms in the early 18th century, Russia left its position of a barbaric, semi-civilised power at the fringes of Europe to adopt the institutions of sovereignty, balance of power, dynasticism and inter-royal marriages, and international law, and enmeshed itself in the European state-system by taking part in wars, disputes and resolutions of them.
Consequently, its penetration into Central Asia and its modernising presence there is seen in a western light as well. As Watson argues, The Romanov Empire Westernised, modernised, and settled a vast area of Siberia and Central Asia, comparable only to the contemporary and similar westward expansion of the United States, and parallel to the seaborne expansion of England.
3
While Russia’s rank as a Great Power and its entry process in EIS have been already discussed in the literature, 4 its status as a European state has been questioned less, especially when put in relation to the expansion of EIS. Here, it is believed that by looking exclusively at the structural-functional aspect of EIS, much of the nuanced, multi-faceted and complex relation of Russia with Europe is lost, especially if the whole expansion of EIS carried out by Russia is put in a wider historical context.
Therefore, in this paper, the expansion of EIS is used instrumentally to shed light on Russia’s position as a civilised power at that time. Rather than focusing on the export of institutions of EIS to Central Asia per se, I focus more on how such export was used by Russia to provide itself with a full European, civilised identity.
Furthermore, this paper seeks to contribute to the present literature on the expansion of EIS and the standard of civilisation by focusing on what I call ‘the periphery in the centre’. The classical account of the expansion of EIS has already been criticised: Gerrit Gong has showed how in the whole enterprise of expanding western international norms of conducts, a standard of civilisation was implicitly applied, depriving non-European territories of rights and privileges and therefore making them legally inferior and therefore conquerable; 5 Yasuaki Onuma has shown how the West used instrumentally international law to justify a false pretension of universalism, 6 while Edward Keene and Shogo Suzuki argue that the expansion of EIS and its civilisation was far from being a peaceful encounter of social orders, but it was rather based on imperialism, coercion and power-politics. 7
Yet, even these critics miss the fact that the European ‘core’ was actually far from united, or ‘monolithic’. In this paper, I argue that a standard of civilisation was also operating in the core of the expansion, Europe, and that a periphery subject to marginalisation, stigma and ‘othering politics’, Russia, was present also within the core. 8
In the light of the above, the framework I advance in this paper is that of ‘mediated expansion’ of EIS. It entails three different meanings, all related to each other:
Russia was interposed between a European core and Central Asia, thus between what were considered the apex of civilisation and barbarous peoples;
Russia was a power that did not contribute to the birth and development of EIS, but conversely was itself previously socialised (voluntarily);
Russia’s expansion of EIS in Central Asia was considered not as a full-blown one, but a rather partial, imperfect and incomplete one, given its position in Europe mentioned above.
From a theoretical perspective, as said, one of the cardinal features of Russia’s role in the expansion of EIS was that it framed its own colonial enterprise as a means to conform to EIS’s standard of civilisation, as a knocker for ‘Heaven’s door’. This strategy, based on emulation and mirroring strategies of other powers’ behaviour, relied on three components: adaptation (Russia had to adapt to a competitive international context where ‘status’ was defined also according to imperial and colonial possessions); strategic learning (what to do in order to achieve that status); emulative learning (how to behave to achieve that status). 9
These three components are the natural outcome of what the ‘standard of civilisation’ required at that time: the members of EIS had to be seen as a point of reference for proper behaviour, and orientation of actions to conform to the principles of the social group of reference had to be exercised. And colonial expansion, the ‘dark side’ of EIS, was exactly one of those principles.
As a matter of fact, being a ‘civilised’ state meant not only respecting generally accepted international law, but also and more importantly for the argument of this paper, being a civiliser itself. 10 And this is exactly how Russia perceived its position in Central Asia: the expansion was an attempt to secure international legitimacy as a ‘civilised’ member of EIS, a ‘noblesse oblige’ behaviour, an exercise in ‘mimetic imperialism’. 11
The argument is structured as follows. In the first part, a historical account of the Russian penetration in the region is offered. The second part puts Russia’s conquest of Central Asia in a wider historical context, and shows how the aftermath of the Crimean War and the domestic condition of the Russian empire were key to depicting Russia as a state on the fringes of Europe. The third part constitutes the gist of the paper, and addresses Russian self-reflection on the meaning of the conquest of Central Asia for its European status as well as European evaluations of it in the light of the discourses highlighted in the second part. In the conclusions, I sum up the argument.
The Russian Conquest
In the early 19th century, the city-states of Khiva, Bukhara and Koqand, and the nomadic tribes of the northern steppes and of the littoral coasts on the Caspian Sea formed an ‘inter-unit’ system based on religion, diplomacy, commerce and suzerainty. Borders were poorly institutionalised or even non-existent, being a mere reflection of the extent of the power of the sovereign. Descriptions reported that ‘the Khanate of Bukhara, like the states which are its neighbours, has no fixed boundaries, sanctioned by time [viz. customary], or circumscribed by international treaties. They expand or contract according to the strength or weakness of its rulers’, 12 and that ‘in that period, borders of states still counted for very little. It can almost be said that these were not yet invented.’ 13
Diplomacy retained different features from the modern, European conception of it. 14 It was not customary in the region to host the representative of a foreign domain permanently. Envoys, often merchants, were usually sent for specific missions and specific purposes, but were not granted the right to stay on the host territory in the same manner as a European embassy. The state of diplomacy in Central Asia could be compared ‘to that of Europe before the sixteenth century, when the custom of having Ambassadors at Foreign Courts was still unknown’. 15
Sunni Islam, holding together nomadic and sedentary tribes in a single relational framework, regulated and informed all the rules and norms that gave a sense of order in the regional system. The power of the sovereign was expressed by the hutbe, the prayer said in honour of the sovereign, and the sikke, that is, the ability and faculty to produce and circulate money, 16 while Shari’a itself constituted a primordial, rudimentary form of international law, 17 governing the resolution of conflicts, the legal intercourse between the several and different political communities in the region, and even slavery.
The first operations of Russia’s expansion took place in the late 18th century, when several tribes of the Kazakh steppe were subjugated and incorporated. Then, between 1822 and 1854, Russian soldiers occupied the steppe effectively, placing its inhabitants for the first time in their history under the rule of a sedentary conqueror. 18 Proceeding towards the oases, the first khanate to capitulate was Koqand (1868), the second was Bukhara (1868), and then Khiva in 1873. Being defeated, the khanates retained full responsibility for their own internal affairs ‘while relinquishing to Russia de facto control of their foreign relations’. 19 The last stage of the conquest of the whole area of Central Asia was the subjugation of the Turkmens in 1881 with the battle of Geok-Tepe. Central Asia was thus under Russia’s control, and divided in the Governorate of the Steppe, of Transcaspia, of Turkestan and the protectorates of Khiva and Bukhara.
If the protectorates retained their domestic sovereignty, the steppe and the oases were now to be administered. The Rules for the Siberia Kyrgyz were published already in 1822, and two years later those for the Orenburg Kazakhs were adopted. These two documents brought forward the modernisation of the steppe, abolishing the khan and the horde as political units, and entrenching fixed territorial units where the nomads were supposed to live. In particular, article 171 of these regulations gave the possibility for nomads to get a piece of land to start farming or found a settled homestead. 20
Modernisation of the oases was also brought forward. In March 1867, at the beginning of the conquest of the oases, the district of Turkestan was created, thus imposing a civil-military form of organisation in the region. Almost twenty years later, the Statute on the Administration of Turkestan was compiled (1886), and with these regulations, a form of agricultural capitalism penetrated the region, bringing the tribal political order to an end.
Wider institutional changes occurred. First of all, borders were exogenously imposed. With the creation of oblasts, uezds, volosts, all different and concentric levels of territorial administration imported from imperial Russia, the nomadic and semi-nomadic populations of Central Asia had to adapt to a new political reality made of legally delimited spaces. 21
Diplomacy was modernised as well, establishing for the first time in the region a permanent representative of the Russian empire, as foreseen by article 16 of the Bukharan-Russian Friendship Treaty of 1873. The Bukharan khan was granted a representative office (predstavitel’stvo) in Saint Petersburg, while the Russian representative office in Bukhara was opened in 1886. The Khivan khan was granted ‘a sort of representative’ in Petro-Aleksandrovsk, in the northern part of the khanate. 22 The practice of giving gifts was abolished in 1880, and new diplomatic orders were instituted, such as the Order of St Anna, St Andrej and St Stanislav, bestowed on Central Asian diplomats in Khiva and Bukhara. 23 The Bukharan Khan himself instituted in 1883 the Order of the Rising Star, thus mimicking the European custom. Moreover, slavery was abolished.
International law was also imported in the region, as Russia demanded the observance of peace treaties and provisions. The treaty (dogovor) was introduced in lieu of oaths and promises. 24 Under the impact of legal positivism at the time, in the steppe codification of customary nomadic law was introduced. 25
Domestically, Islam was preserved, as initially it was decided to leave the cultural and social background intact. Conversely, the judicial level introduced in Central Asia was that of mirovoi sud’ia, justice of peace, which was the lowest level at which one could find statutory and written laws applied. Much power, however, was retained by the military personnel of the governorate.
Commercial duties and customs for merchants became regulated, and trade was modernised with tutelage of merchants, provisions, clear duties and conditions of most favourite nation for Russian entrepreneurs in the region. 26 In particular, freedom of navigation of the Amu Darya, 27 opening up for travel in interior parts 28 and setting up of passport and visa regime to regulate the flux of domestic investors gave the region a touch of administrative Europeanness. 29 Furthermore, a Moscow-Tashkent trading society was opened already in 1866.
The incorporation of Central Asia in the wider capitalist market made necessary a rationalisation of market and economic procedures through the convergence of payment system, of currencies, the introduction of balance records, the establishment of a small entrepreneurial class in charge of regulating and enhancing foreign trade. In the economic realm, important was also the founding of branches of the state bank in the cities of Tashkent (1874), Samarkand (1890), Kokand (1893), and Bukhara (1894). The peak of the capitalistic development of the region was visible in the construction of the Trans-Caspian railway (1879–1906) that ended up being a vehicle of capitalistic expansion and economic development. 30 The network of railroads ‘had great strategic, economic and psychological significance, emphasising a structural feasibility of Central Asia’s incorporation in the Russian empire’, 31 showing also materially, not just institutionally, the entry of modernity into Central Asia, as well as the entry of Central Asia into modernity.
In sum, the result of Russian administration in Central Asia brought the destruction of khanship and barter economy, fixation of borders and territoriality, diplomatic ‘representativeness’ and etiquette, the dogovor and the gramota (official diplomatic note) as institutionalised instruments of international law, abolition of slavery, the pre-eminence of imperial law, privatisation of land and property and the introduction of market economy. Piety and loyalty were substituted by more modern, rational forms of government.
So, thanks to Russia, EIS expanded to Central Asia as well. But how did Europe react towards this? Did EIS expand via a civilised European power, or via something different? To understand this, we have to focus on Russia’s place in Europe during the conquest.
The Crimean Disclosure of the Asiatic
Despite its long and painful entry into EIS, Russia’s origins were still ‘the Stone Guest’ in Europe. The ‘mnemonic practices’ mentioned by Neumann 32 were not only in the mind of Russian statesmen as an idiosyncratic syndrome of inferiority or diversity, but were present also in the mind of Europeans: an indelible stereotype which, depending on the situation, functioned as a cognitive short-cut to assess Russia’s presence in Europe. This ‘politics of memory’ in Europe became evident in the aftermath of the Crimean War at the Congress of Paris in 1856.
The Crimean Curse
In the Crimean War (1853–6) England and France sided with the Kingdom of Sardinia and the Ottoman Empire to resist Russia’s pressure on the Porte as far as the protection of Christian minorities was concerned. At the Peace Congress of Paris in 1856, Russia lost much of its status and prestige. Territorial concessions in Bessarabia, on the Danube and Wallachia and Moldovia reduced the size of the Russian Empire, and the inviolability of Ottoman sovereignty was reaffirmed.
What struck not only Russia’s strategic interest, but also and more importantly its honour and prestige, was the prohibition of holding naval fleets in the Black Sea. Such a compulsory disarmament was seen as a capital punishment, since ‘the Allies would not have presented such terms to any power whom they regarded as truly European’.
33
The diplomatic community marked Russia with the old, scarlet letter of Asianism. The British plenipotentiary at Paris, Lord Cowley, said that Russia should peacefully accept such disarmament, since China (not exactly a European power) had accepted that a few years earlier.
34
Right at the end of the Crimean War, ‘Queen Victoria considered Russians as cruel barbarians, enemies of liberty and civilisation’.
35
Comte de Reiset, a French senior diplomat, commenting on the defeat of Russia in the Crimean War to his Russian colleague de Poggenpohl, added that you [Russians] are not a European power, you should not be and you will never be. … The government knows very well your weak points (Finland, the Baltic provinces, Crimea and Poland) and it is exactly for them that you can cling to Europe; as you remove these links, you would pour yourself in the Orient.
36
Lord Clarendon, the British Foreign Minister, listing the European aims of the Treaty of Paris, mentioned the following one: ‘without thinking twice […Europe needs] to reject the Russian state once for all in the limits assigned to it by nature and history, i.e. the Asiatic continent’.
37
In a private document, Sir Andrew Buchanan stated that ‘the [Russian] Emperor could not die in peace until he had wiped out the stain with which the neutralisation of the Black Sea had sullied the honour of Russia’.
38
Such was the disdain that Prince Gorchakhov, Russia’s Foreign Minister, circulated the following note: His Imperial Majesty can not be considered bound to the obligations of the Treaty of 18 / March 30, 1856 any longer, as they restrict its sovereign rights in the Black Sea. … This peace and balance will guarantee more when they are based on more fairer foundations than those resulting from a position that no great power can accept as a normal condition of existence.
39
This act let Horace Rumbold, member of the Foreign Office, speak of a doctrine subversive of all international law. 40 Moreover, it was said that ‘the ethics of Russian diplomacy are extremely simple’ 41 and that ‘the Russian view of pledges, treaties and similar inconvenient works of reference is not altogether unlike the Chinese who regard a treaty as an instrument which is to be adhered to as little as circumstances will allow’. 42
Frederick Burnaby, captain of the English Army, asked himself ‘what possible reason the Russian Government could have for pursuing a line of policy which, easily understood when adopted by a barbarous nation like China, was a singular one for even a semi-civilized power’. 43
Thus, Central Asia became ‘a compensatory psychological need as balm for the wounds inflicted on national pride by the Crimean debacle’. 44 To legitimise the advancement in the steppe and in Turkestan, Gorchakhov circulated another document stating that Russia’s aim was to reach polities sufficiently civilised to enhance and entrench Russian economic and commercial interest without occupying those territories. 45
Nonetheless, as we saw in the first part, Khiva was eventually occupied in summer 1873, and despite Russian justification and reassurances to European powers, the judgement was definitive: ‘Russia’s diplomacy is not hampered by the principles of the European one’. 46
The Reforms to be ‘European’
The defeat in the Crimean War and Alexander II’s ascension to the throne after Nicholas’s death in 1855 ignited also a series of reforms to modernise its administrative and political apparatus, seen as the key to clinging to European civilisation. Indeed, ‘in the XIX century, the word “European” was synonymous with “civilised”’. 47 Such reforms concerned serfdom, the judiciary system, the economy and political autocracy.
As far as serfdom is concerned, it is useful to remember that still in 1815, of a population of some 45 million, about 21 million people were owned as personal property. Other states that had been previously engaged with serfdom abolished it earlier than Russia, such as the Habsburg Empire (with the Serfdom patent in 1781) and Prussia in 1807 (with the October Edict). Still, it was not until 1861 that serfdom in Russia was definitely abolished, thus making it the last European state to abolish a practice that was considered odious and against human dignity.
The legislative and judiciary systems underwent reforms as well in 1864, on the basis of British and French systems. The first hints of these reforms are to be found in Mikhail Speranskii’s codification of Russian laws in 1832, which gave birth to a quasi-code on the model of the positive law that was spreading in Europe at that time. Then, the old courts, characterised by closed hearings and administrative control, were replaced with open courts, ‘with full publicity and an independent judiciary’. 48
Economically, Russia moved from a condition of autarky in the 1820s to partial liberalisation in the years of the Crimean War. The ideals of free trade and competition that were pervading continental Europe found their acceptance in Russia through the adoption of the liberal tariff in 1857, which lasted until 1871, when strong protective measures were readopted. 49 Banks and a capillary railway system were introduced, too, but ‘it was not until the 1870s that the Russian economic revolution ceased to appear experimental’. 50 Writing at the beginning of the 20th century, and looking back to the late 19th century, the economic historian Ephraim Lipson argued that Russia was in many respects still a semi-Asiatic power. It presented a ‘residuum of barbarianism’, its civilisation on European lines was a ‘herculean task’, the country suffered from a ‘medieval bondage’ where ‘the harvest of progress had yet to be reaped’. 51
The last area in which reforms were carried out, unsuccessfully, was that of political power. A defining characteristic of EIS was the gradual shift from an autocratic level of government to a pluralistic one, where political and economic society could exercise their functions distinctively from the central authority. But in Russia, to resist ‘biased’ and ‘sick’ ideas of Western Europe was widely regarded as a distinctive mark of Russian identity. European materialism, rationality, positivism, were linked to instability and revolutionary character. In 19th-century Russia, contrary to what was happening in Europe, the norm was ‘the dependence of Russian political and economic society on government and the dependence of the government on the autocrat himself’. 52
Yet, despite all these reforms, Russia still was considered as a non-civilised, inferior power in Europe. First of all, the reforms were carried out only at a superficial level, and failed to penetrate the social tissue of Russian society. The reforms lacked genuine spirit and were rather an arriviste strategy to conform to Europe, based more on mimicking than on internalisation. 53 The economic as well as the judiciary reforms failed to bring Russia to an acceptable level of modernisation as seen from Europe and, more importantly, the very basic standard of legitimacy in EIS was still not internalised. Russia was still abiding by an autocratic, religious, dynastic principle of legitimacy, almost dating back to the post-Napoleonic years, while considering almost a perversion of international order the liberal revolutions taking place in Europe, based on nationalistic principles and on the new spirit of legal positivism. 54
Indeed, as Iver Neumann has demonstrated, Russia still claimed to belong to a ‘true Europe’ as opposed to a false and illegitimate one. The ‘true Europe’ Russia was claiming to be part of was a society of states where strong central government, based on dynastic and religious forms of legitimacy, was the cornerstone of the identity of its members. 55 But in this way, Russia spent the 19th century representing the society of anciens regimes that Europe was abandoning, especially in the light of the legacies of the French Revolution and of the activities of political and historical philosophers in Germany. In sum, while for Tsar Alexander ‘true Europe’ was a matter of faith, for EIS members ‘true Europe’ in the 19th century was a matter of modernity. And this, for Russia, was unacceptable: for the Russian state, ‘the ensuing “springtime of nations” was no surprise, but rather a further confirmation of the sorry state of contemporary “false” Europe’. 56 In this mutual ‘othering projection’, the Russian state was, in sum, rejecting ‘the paradigm of the reasoning man’, 57 the new European disciplinary project based on modernity, meant as ‘an ethos, a manner of being, the right manner of being’. 58 Therefore, while European states were seen by Saint Petersburg as representatives of a ‘false’ Europe, Europe saw Russia as ‘a laggard who should learn but refuses to do so’. 59
Thus, the feeling of inadequacy ‘ran too deep to be overcome by a ‘quick fix’. As late as 1876, Gorchakov allegedly remarked that Russia was ‘a great, powerless country’ and that, although it could masquerade as a Great Power, it had to be constantly aware of the make-believe of it all’. 60
The Crimean War functioned as a catalyst of Europe’s depiction of Russia not only as a non-Great Power, but also as a non-Western one. The decline and backwardness of Russia in terms of political liberality, economic freedom, social benefits, judiciary efficiency and overall its sense of hostility towards European modernisation othered Russia in Europe’s house of progress, making Russia hostage of its ‘liminarity’ within EIS. Despite participating in it via the commonly held institutions, norms and rules that regulated it, Russia was considered ‘as the country that is perpetually seen as being in some stage of transition to Europeanization’ 61 . The space, Russia, was seen and evaluated as a function of time, modernity. Indeed, the use of Asia as a locus of metaphor had a tripartite hierarchical effect: a geographical one, emphasising distance; a developmental one, emphasising backwardness; a civilisational one, emphasising barbarianism.
Tra color che son sospesi 62 : Central Asia as a Gate to Europe
In the light of the analysis conducted above, let’s go back to the conquest of Central Asia. For Russia, the conquest of Central Asia was a European colonisation of barbarian territories.
The position of Russia in Central Asia is that of all civilised states which come into contact with half-savage, wandering tribes possessing no fixed social organisation. … The United States in America, France in Algiers, Holland in her colonies, England in India – all have inevitably drawn into a course wherein ambition plays a smaller part than imperious necessity.
63
Already in 1826, de Meyendorf clearly described Russia’s mission to Central Asia, linking the Empire, both in empirical and perceptual terms, to continental Europe: ‘Russia is the country whose duty it is to impart to the Khanates of Central Asia a healthy moral impulse and to spread in these countries the benefits of European civilisation’. 64 Some years later, Captain Vasilii Perovsky, while moving towards Khiva, claimed that ‘England herself had been for years engaged in the suppression of the slave trade, and it surely was part of the duty of Holy Russia to take her share in the crusade’. 65
In 1840, Vasilii Grigor’ev, a famous Russian orientologist, spoke of Central Asia as of ‘Russia’s own Orient’, arguing that Britain was, for Russia, a model to follow. 66 Mikhail Pogodin, influential professor at Moscow University and prominent public figure, recalled the civilisational burden shared by Russia with other European powers and, most notably, England: ‘From the point of view of humanity, as Europeans, as Christians, as an educated people, we wish success to England in India’, claiming later that ‘the duty is to do like them’. 67
Mikhail Veniukoff, colonel of the Russian Army, was of the same advice: ‘[England and Russia are] workers in the same historical mission – the civilisation of the Far East’. 68 In doing so, Russia was putting itself on an equal standing with other European maritime powers, and thus engaged itself in the construction of an Other that could serve to reaffirm its identity as European.
The distance created between Russia and Central Asia was therefore functional to the depiction of itself as higher, better, more civilised, progressive and, most of all, European state. Such a distance is most evident in the words of Captain Nikolai Maev: ‘We found here an exotic way of life, thoughts, social order, and economy … unimaginable from a European point of view’.
69
Central Asia meant disorder, marauding, oppression. Russia meant salvation, civilisation, morality: the histories of these semi-barbarous countries [the khanates], desolated by plunder, despotism and ignorance, cannot excite any particular interest; it would naturally consist of an enumeration of Mussulman names intermixed by murders, treacheries, and other acts of violence and despotism of irresponsible Asiatic tyrants.
70
Since it was well perceived that ‘[n]ineteenth-century [EIS] was a society for empires, and imperialism was an inherent component of the Society’, 71 it was argued that ‘[t]o conquer and civilise Central Asia [was] the most effectual way of clearing Russia from the unjust imputations to which she has been exposed, and of confuting the erroneous interpretations of her policy in the East’. 72 At the end of the conquest, Gorchakhov stated solemnly that ‘[the conquest] will also serve [the interest] of civilisation and humanity at large. We have the right to count upon an equitable and loyal appreciation of the policy which we follow’. In sum, ‘Asia was one place where Russians could be the equals of Europeans’. 73
This othering procedure enacted by Russia responded to a very specific need, that of performatively creating an identity as a member of EIS. As David Campbell has convincingly shown, the denigration, the negation of the other is always linked to a definition, an amelioration of the self. Since ‘the constitution of identity is achieved through the inscription of boundaries that serve to demarcate an “inside” from an “outside”, a “self” from an “other”, a “domestic” from a “foreign”’, 74 the descriptions of Central Asia reported above played exactly the function of bestowing ontological and identity security onto a civilised Russia against the barbarian at the gates. This ‘strategy of otherness’ towards Central Asia was, in sum, the creation of the very possibility of existence of a Russian civilised empire within EIS: the depiction of the newly conquered populations as ‘barbarians’, ‘savages’ and ‘marauders’ was ‘made possible by and help[ed] constitute a moral space of superior/inferior’. 75
Still, the position of Russia vis-a-vis the colonies was a doubtful and unstable one. First, if geography is not destiny, it can be a straight road difficult to exit from. In continental Europe, all states that possessed colonies were maritime Empires. The distance, the remoteness was signalled by the presence of immense waters, of oceans, acting as boundaries between the cradle of civilisation and the ‘out-there’. In Russia, metropole and periphery were not clearly demarcated. Russia’s foreign policy ‘did not include a term to designate a distinct exotic region in a manner corresponding to the French and British “Orient”’, nor a word to indicate the institution of the ‘colony’. 76 Interestingly, the expansion eastwards collapsed Russia’s European frontier of the Urals, created in 1725 as part of Peter the Great’s European agenda. 77
Secondly, differently from other colonial empires, the Russian government did not have a deputy Ministry for colonial administration. While the Inter-ministerial Asiatic Committee worked only from 1820 to 1847, the Asiatic Department within the Foreign Ministry ceased to have administrative responsibilities for Central Asia already in 1873. 78 The jurisdiction was left mainly to the Ministries of Interior and War.
This ambivalence towards the ‘colonies’ was reflected in competing discourses in Russia. For example, the Orientalists felt a cultural, historical and civilisational attraction to the East although based in European Russia. Influential people such as Nikolai Danilevskii suggested not to treat the new territories as colonies in the western way, but as Russian state territory, while Vladimir Lamanskii argued that the conquest of Central Asia made Russia a srednii mir (‘middle world’) between Europe and Asia.
For them, the East from which Russia itself was born was not seen as an Other, but as a pristine self to civilise. ‘The East belongs to us unalterably, naturally, historically, voluntarily’. 79 Veniukoff, who considered Russia a European Great Power, nonetheless affirmed that the conquest was ‘the re-establishment of extension of the sway of the Aryan race over countries which for a long period were subject to peoples of Turk and Mongol extraction’. 80 Vasilii Grigor’ev echoed him: ‘Which of the European races preserved in itself more of the Asiatic element than the Slavs, who were the last to leave their primeval homeland?’ 81
The Central Asians, in particular the nomads, were depicted as barbarians and backward, but nonetheless subjected to the same laws of the Empire, in the process of achieving a ‘uniform standardised framework of imperial civil order, or grazhdanstvennost’. 82 Vasilii Kliuchevskii, historian and academic, spoke of Russia as ‘colonising itself’.
Yet, for those who were equalling Russia to Europe, as seen above, Central Asia was not a pristine self, but rather an abject. 83 Since an abject is that which is neither ‘subject nor object’ and that ‘threatens the borders of the self’, Central Asia constituted in the narrative of the conquerors ‘a remainder that has to be cut off in order for the self to be kept “pure”’. 84 The othering of Central Asia to reinforce Russia’s European identity was a recognition and a negation of the pristine self, of the uncivilised past.
Russia was casting on Central Asia narratives of backwardness and savagery, which were exactly the stigmata of its past as emphasised in continental Europe. Still at the outset of the 20th century, Russian Foreign Minister Count Izvol’sky said that due to its origins, for Russia ‘to become an Asiatic state … would be a major catastrophe’. 85 Therefore Central Asia became ‘the improper facet of [Russia’s] impossible own and proper’. 86 Not only the reforms failed to convince European states that Russia was fully on track with its developmental project, but the suzerain past that now was coming back under the form of territorial acquisition led Russia to perceive a sense of shame, of stigma, the stigma of being developmentally behind.
The very presence of the multiple voices within Russia described above, some favouring rapprochement with Europe and some arguing for a ‘reappropriation of the East’, well exemplified the ‘existential dilemma’ created by the ‘Asiatic stigma’. If the agent recognises its weakness, it legitimises the presence of the stigma (Westernisers). If, however, the agent becomes defensive of its stigma, then it justifies the way the social group treats it (Orientalists). As Zarakol aptly argues, ‘an actor who has internalized the normative standards of the society he is a member of cannot escape stigmatization even if he isolates himself or rejects those standards as unfair’. 87
From Saint Petersburg, ‘to describe the natives [in Central Asia] was to depict Russia, and it was not necessarily a flattering picture’. 88 Central Asia was therefore an alter-ego: alter because odiously barbarian, ego because it was part of its own past, a past that was rejected through ‘othering’ descriptions but now incorporated.
Tashkent, Koqand, the steppes and the oases were now part of the empire exactly in the same ways of Moscow, Saint Petersburg and the other cities of Western Russia. The population, once remote, barbarian, savage and unlawful, was now in the lap of the motherland. Central Asia was das Unheimliche, ‘the familiar alien’, Russia’s past in Russia’s present. Thus, the rejection of it in civilisational terms was functional to Russia’s social acceptance in Europe. As Cecilia Sjöholm notes, ‘the desire for recognition defines the emancipatory project of modernity, in which subjectivities are constituted negatively, through excluding what is other to it’. 89 It is this mechanism, I argue, that makes it possible to speak of a mediated expansion. Considering Central Asia not only an Other but the Self as viewed by Europeans, Russia could enter Europe and reach civilisational isonomy only via a negation of that Other and, at an unconscious level, of that Self.
Aleksandr Bariatinskii, close friend of Alexander II, diplomat and member of the State Council, was one of the leading advocates of this strategy in Russia. He perceived Russia as constituted both by the reforming West and the autocratic, conservative East, and that Russia might be for Central Asia what Europe had been for Russia two centuries earlier, the source and the bearer of the world’s most advanced civilisation. It was in Central Asia that, according to Bariatinskii, Russia could justify its own existence as a European power. 90
Outside state circles, but nonetheless influential, was the thinking of Feodor Dostoevskii. By claiming that ‘in Europe we are hangers on and slaves, but in Asia we are masters’, and that ‘in Europe we are Tatars, but in Asia we too are Europeans’ he sided with Bariatinskii, who argued that only the conquest of other nations could bring Russia into Europe, 91 and that Russia would bring Europe into Asia ‘in a diluted form’. 92 These discourses represent clearly the idea of a mediated expansion of EIS: the will to be on a par with Europe, the recognition of Central Asia as a familiar stranger and the perception of being in an intermediate position between Europe and barbarian Asia are all hallmarks of a complex, elaborated and by no means one-size-fits-all expansion of EIS.
The civilising mission ‘was thus not merely, and not even primarily, the pursuit of an altruistic God-given responsibility, but rather a vital opportunity to realise the Petrine injunction to Europeanise Russia itself’. 93 These very words of Mikhail Petrashevskii, politician and influential intellectual, can fully represent the concept of mediated expansion: ‘[Our expansion Eastwards] is destined to achieve for us a diploma with the title of a truly European nation!’ 94 Here, a paradox was in play: Central Asia was the recipient of the expansion of EIS (see Figure 1), but also the door for Russia’s solid entry into EIS (see Figure 2).

The expansion of EIS in Bull and Watson (1984).

The mediated expansion of EIS. Dotted lines represent Russia’s attempt to be considered truly European.
By observing the process of colonising backward peoples, Grigor’ev was able to say that ‘the Russians made themselves real Europeans’. 95
Yet, to use an expression dear to George Herbert Mead, 96 in Russian Central Asia the ‘I’ was different from the ‘me’. Domestically, rampant corruption in the administration was pervasive; social order, often broken by local revolts both in the steppe and in Turkestan, was maintained via violent military rule. Internationally, closeness of borders and of commercial routes cut off the region from international trade, border and commercial treaties with the khans were often not respected, diplomacy was only poorly institutionalised, and slavery was still practised. More importantly, the maintenance of Islam as a factor of stabilisation made the encounter between the colonial authorities and the local population more difficult. 97 The expansion of EIS in Central Asia was therefore seen in Europe as mediated by a less civilising force, Russia.
Arminius Vambéry, traveller, academic and influential intellectual at that time, commenting on the conquest of Central Asia, stated that ‘[Russia’s politics there] is Asiatic, aye, wildly Asiatic in tendency’, and that ‘little, in spite of the long struggle after European civilisation, has yet been taken in, to speak comparatively, from what we call European or Western life’. 98
The notion of ‘mediated expansion’ was also visible in his words, especially when arguing that ‘Russianising is naturally a step from Asia towards Europe’.
99
Russia was thus seen as ‘not wholly qualified to be the propagator of the European spirit of civilisation’.
100
By looking at the poor condition of the colonies, cut away from foreign markets and merchants, where political and social progress was not observable, he concluded that we must not lose sight of the fact that it is Russia in particular which, as far as its own culture is concerned, has not by a long way reached that stage of perfection which would enable it to take its stand as the representative of the true, genuine spirit of modern advancement. Russian culture is only half European, and still half Asiatic.
101
Sir Henry Rawlinson, a diplomat in the East India Office, while conceding that the Russian Empire had brought a certain degree of civilisation to the ‘savages’ of Central Asia, claimed that the subjects of the Tsar were ‘a race by themselves, differing in character and descent from all those people who may properly lay claim to come within the limits of Western civilisation’.
102
Burnaby, travelling through Russian Central Asia, commented that the rulers defend the despoliation of the inhabitants in Central Asia, and the annexation of their territory, on the ground that it is done for the purpose of Christianity and civilisation. And yet, the government of this civilised nation made as much fuss about my travelling in Central Asia as any mandarin at Pekin, whose permission I might have had to ask for a journey through the Celestial empire. It will take the Russians a long time to shake off from themselves the habits and a way of thought inherited from a barbarous ancestry.
103
Moreover, Russia adopted several protectionist measures in the region thus cutting off European merchants from trade with those lands and taming free movement within and across them, contrary to the ‘precepts’ of the standard of civilisation of the time.
104
Lord Curzon’s words are perhaps the most illustrative ones: recognising that ‘a system backward in Europe is forward in Central Asia’,
105
he argued that ‘the Russian system may be government, but cannot be called improvement of civilisation’.
106
Russia, therefore, did not act as a full European civiliser, but rather as a less qualified medium. Overall, the conquest of Central Asia [was] a conquest of Orientals by Orientals, of cognate character by cognate character. It [was] the fusing of strong with weaker metal, but it [was] not the expulsion of an impure by a purer element. Civilised Europe has not marched forth to vanquish barbarian Asia. This [was] no XIX century crusade of manners or morals; but barbarian Asia, after a sojourn in civilised Europe, return[ed] upon its former footsteps to reclaim its own kith and kin.
107
At the very end of the Russian conquest of Central Asia, when the region was administratively and politically under full control of Tsarist administration, Lt. Colonel Waters could argue that ‘the Russian nation has only a veneer of civilisation; it is savage at the heart, and likely to remain so. [In Central Asia, a]n unstable edifice of culture has been erected on a groundwork of semi-civilization’. 108
The symbiosis was therefore complete and, despite the fact that Russians depicted themselves as Europeans, they could not brush off the stigmata of their pristine, atavistic self. Like tra color che son sospesi, Russia had a European ‘I’ with a vivid Asiatic ‘me’, and this had effects on its belonging to EIS, if not from a structural-functional viewpoint, certainly as far as culture and status were concerned. Despite its struggle to reform and progress socially, politically, militarily and economically, Russia was believed to belong to a lower civilisation, until the great humiliation in 1905 against Japan.
Conclusions
A deeper understanding of the wider historical context where Russia operated, particularly in the years immediately after the Crimean War, revealed not that Russia was outside EIS, but certainly that it was situated in a peripheral tie, and was not seen as fully conforming to the European standard of civilisation: ‘European Russia retained its superiority relative to its Asiatic colonies, but rather than standing at one with the West, Russia was seen instead to occupy an intermediary position between the two’. 109
The paper highlighted three main facts. First, it identified a blind-spot in the common narrative of the expansion of EIS, arguing that a standard of civilisation did not exist only between ‘the West and the rest’, but also within the ‘West’ itself. Also, the analysis above contested the notion of ‘expansion’ of EIS. It has been argued that a deeper analysis of the cultural, civilisational and institutional discourses underlying EIS itself in the 19th century reveals interesting dichotomies, standards and boundaries that perhaps are not clearly perceivable if EIS is studied merely in structural terms.
Secondly, it made a case for reconsidering the place of Russia in 19th-century EIS not just in Great Power terms, but also in civilisational ones. In a century when the standard of civilisation still counted as a true demarcation line between the family of nations and those outside – ‘where you came from’ still mattered, even if you shared the predominant rules and institutions of EIS. 110
Thirdly, it was argued that a point missed by Bull and Watson and more generally by those authors interested in the expansion of EIS has been that of ‘reflexive feedback’, that is, the analysis of what the expansion means for the ‘expander’, and how the expansion is perceived and framed by others.
Far from being ‘modern’ and ‘civilised’, the contribution of Russia to the expansion of EIS was that of favouring an imperfect, mediated expansion of it, where its identity, in search for a confirmation, was conversely destabilised and questioned. To conclude, it may be said that such a conceptualisation of the expansion of EIS makes the analysis of the history of international relations more complex, and perhaps more confusing. Nonetheless, I believe, this is what is gained when from a mere systemic level of analysis we venture into a deeper one, where narratives of identities, cultures and differences play an important part in shaping the practice and the evolution of international politics. And exactly like tra color che son sospesi, it is our duty to find the right balance between the two.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank those present at the ISA Annual Convention in San Francisco, 3–6 April 2013, at ‘The Making of Modern International Relations’ Workshop, University of Tartu, 5–8 June 2013 and at the Millennium Annual Conference ‘Rethinking the Standard(s) of Civilisation(s) in International Relations’, London School of Economics, 19–20 October 2013, for their criticism and suggestions on earlier drafts of this paper. Moreover, I would like to thank Barry Buzan, Camilla Hagelund, Natasha Kuhrt, Carsten-Andreas Schulz, Dimitrios Stroikos, Paolo Sorbello, Yannis Stivachtis, Yongjin Zhang and two anonymous referees for considerably improving this paper with their constructive comments.
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
1.
Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1998).
2.
Hedley Bull and Adam Watson, eds, The Expansion of International Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984).
3.
Adam Watson, ‘Russia and the European State System’, in The Expansion of International Society, 72.
4.
Iver B. Neumann, ‘Russia as a Great Power, 1815–2007’, Journal of International Relations and Development 11, no. 2 (2008): 128–51; idem, The Mongol Connection: Russia’s Asian Entry into European Politics, NUPI Working Paper, no. 736 (2010); idem, ‘Entry into International Society Reconceptualised: The Case of Russia’, Review of International Studies 37, no.2 (2011): 463–84; within the IR literature see also Sergei Prozorov, ‘In and Out of Europe: Identity Politics in Russian-European Relations’, in Piret Ehin and Eiki Berg, eds, Identity and Foreign Policy: Baltic-Russian Relations and European Integration (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009); Pami Aalto, ‘Russia’s Quest for International Society and the Prospects for Regional-Level International Societies’, International Relations 21, no. 4 (2007): 459–78; Ted Hopf, ed., Russia’s European Choice (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008).
5.
Gerrit W. Gong, The Standard of ‘Civilization’ in International Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984).
6.
Yasuaki Onuma, ‘When Was the Law of International Society Born? An Inquiry of the History of International Law from an Intercivilisational Perspective’, Journal of the History of International Law 2 (2000): 1–66.
7.
Edward Keene, Beyond the Anarchical Society: Grotius, Colonialism and Order in World Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Shogo Suzuki, Civilisation and Empire: China and Japan’s Encounter with European International Society (London: Routledge, 2009).
8.
Given the notorious reluctance of the English School to define the standard of civilisation in the 19th century, I define it as that set of practices, beliefs, manners and behaviours linked to modernity that were considered as appropriate to be admitted as equal(s) to a given social context (EIS).
9.
Suzuki, Civilisation and Empire, 31.
10.
Ibid., 142.
11.
Ibid.
12.
Nikolai V. Khanikoff, Bokhara: Its Amir and its People (London: James Madden, 1845), 2.
13.
Joseph Wolff, Narrative of a Mission to Bokhara: In the Years 1843–1845, to Ascertain the Fate of Colonel Stoddart and Captain Conolly (London: Harper & Bros, 1845), 43.
14.
Edward Allworth, The Modern Uzbeks from the 14th Century to the Present: A Cultural History (Stanford, CA: Hoover Institute Press, 1990).
15.
John M. Trotter, A Contribution towards the Better Knowledge of the Topography, Ethnography, Resources, and History of the Khanat of Bokhara (Calcutta: Foreign Department Press, 1873), 53.
16.
Sevket Pamuk, A Monetary History of the Ottoman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 16.
17.
Rima Tkatova, ‘Central Asian States and International Law: Between Post-Soviet Culture and Eurasian Civilization’, Chinese Journal of International Law 9, no. 1 (2010): 205–20.
18.
Seymour Becker, Russia’s Protectorates in Central Asia: Bukhara and Khiva, 1865–1924 (London: Routledge, 2004), 13.
19.
Ibid., 25; see also Aleksander D. Bogaturov, Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia v Tsentral’noi Azii: sobytiya i dokumenty (Moskva: Aspekt-Press, 2011).
20.
Paul G. Geiss, Pre-Tsarist and Tsarist Central Asia: Communal Commitment and Political Order in Change (London: Routledge, 2004), see also Michael Khodarkovsky, Russia’s Steppe Frontier: The Making of a Colonial Empire,1500–1800 (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2002), Martin Malia, Russia Under Western Eyes: From the Bronze Horseman to the Lenin Mausoleum (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1999) and Willard Sunderland, Taming the Wild Field: Colonization and Empire on the. Russian Steppe (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004).
21.
Virginia Martin, Law and Custom in the Steppe: The Kazakhs of the Middle Horde and Russian Colonialism in the Nineteenth Century (London: Routledge, 2001).
22.
Henry Lansdell, Russian Central Asia, Including Kuldja, Bokhara, Khiva, and Merv, with Frontispiece, Maps, and Illustrations (London: Houghton, Mifflin, 1885), 246.
23.
Becker, Russia’s Protectorates, 85.
24.
Ibid., 39.
25.
Martin, Law and Custom in the Steppe; Geiss, PreTsarist and Tsarist Central Asia.
26.
Bogaturov, Mezhdunarodnye otnosheniia, 95.
27.
Article 4 of the Bukharan Treaty, 1868/1873 and article 5 of the Khivan Treaty, 1873.
28.
Article 8 of the Bukharan Treaty, and article 13 of the Khivan Treaty.
29.
Article 14 of the Bukharan Treaty, and article 16 of the Khivan Treaty.
30.
George N.C. Curzon, Russia in Central Asia in 1889 and the Anglo-Russian Question (London: Longmans, 1899).
31.
Svet Soucek, A History of Inner Asia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 205.
32.
Neumann, ‘Entry into International Society Reconceptualised’, 2.
33.
Alfred J. Rieber, ed., The Politics of Autocracy. Letters of Alexander II to Prince A. I. Bariatinskii, 1857–1864 (With a Map) (The Hague: Mouton and Co., 1966), 24.
34.
Doc. 1551, Cowley to Clarendon, 28 November 1855, India Office.
35.
Seton-Watson in Constantin de Grünwald, Trois siècles de diplomatie russe: Édition originale (Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1945), 218. Quotes from de Grunwald have been translated from French.
36.
Ibid., 198, ft. 1.
37.
Ibid.
38.
1901/151, doc 81 Letter of Sir Andrew Buchanan, 22 November 1870, India Office.
39.
1901/2, doc 77 Letter of Prince Gorchakov, 31 October 1870, India Office.
40.
1901/324(i), doc 84, Memorandum of H. Rumbold, exact date n/a, India Office.
41.
Alexander S. Krausse, Russia in Asia: A Record and a Study, 1558–1899 (London: G. Richards, 1899), 143.
42.
Ibid., 271.
43.
Burnaby, A Ride to Khiva, 5.
44.
David Schimmelpenninck Van Der Oye, Russian Orientalism: Asia in the Russian Mind from Peter the Great to the Emigration (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010), 364.
45.
Gorchakov in Krausse, Russia in Asia. The lands of the khanates were not considered terra nullius by contemporary international law.
46.
Krausse, Russia in Asia, 141.
47.
Rieber, The Politics of Autocracy, 23.
48.
J.M.K. Vyvyan, ‘Russia in Europe and Asia’, The New Cambridge Modern History, ed. J.P.T. Bury (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960), X, 378.
49.
Dietrich Geyer, Russian Imperialism: The Interaction of Domestic and Foreign Policy, 1860–1914, trans. Bruce Little (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1987).
50.
Vyvyan, ‘Russia in Europe and Asia’, 380.
51.
Ephraim Lipson, Europe in the Nineteenth Century: An Outline History Containing Portraits and Maps (London: A. & C. Black in London, 1916), 81.
52.
Vyvyan, ‘Russia in Europe and Asia’, 357. I say ‘widely’ because Russia had also its proud Westerners (zapadniki), i.e. intellectuals, artists and politicians who looked at Europe as a model to follow exactly in the light of its liberalisation. I am grateful to one of the two anonymous reviewers for reminding me of the complexity of Russia’s socio-political landscape at that time.
53.
Ayse Zarakol, After Defeat: How the East Learned to Live with the West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 106. Zarakol reports Max Scheler’s definition of the arriviste, i.e. somebody who ‘vigorously pursues the goods and stations in life which are associated with the values possessed by the noble, but he does not pursue these goods for their intrinsic worth’.
54.
See Barry Buzan, ‘The ‘Standard of Civilisation’ as an English School Concept, Millennium 42, no. 3 (2014): 576-594.
55.
Iver B. Neumann, Russia and the Idea of Europe: A Study in Identity and International Relations (London: Routledge, 1996).
56.
Ibid., 40; see also 34.
57.
David Campbell, Writing Security: United States Foreign Policy and the Politics of Identity, 2nd edn (Manchester: Manchester University Press), 66.
58.
Ibid., 214.
59.
Iver B. Neumann, Uses of the Other: ‘The East’ in European Identity Formation (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1999), 110.
60.
Dominic Lieven, Russia and the Origins of the First World War (London: St. Martin’s Press, 1983), 23–4.
61.
Neumann, Uses of the Other, 111.
62.
Dante, Inferno, II, line 52, ‘among those suspended’.
63.
Gorchakhov in Krausse, Russia in Asia, 150.
64.
De Meyendorf, Voyage, 66.
65.
Vasilii A. Perovsky, A Narrative of the Russian Military Expedition to Khiva, translated by Henry Michell in 1867 (Calcutta: Foreign Department of the Government of India, 1839), 118.
66.
Vera Tolz, Russia’s own Orient: The Politics of Identity and Oriental Studies in the Late Imperial and Early Soviet Periods (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 28.
67.
In Nikolai V. Riasanovsky, ‘Asia through Russian Eyes’, in Russia and Asia, ed. Wayne S. Vucinich (Stanford, CA: Hoover Institution Press, 1972), 14, emphasis added.
68.
Mikhail J. Veniukoff, The Progress of Russia in Central Asia Translated from the ‘Sbornik Gosudarstvennikh Znanyi’ by Captain Francis Clarke, available at India Office IOR/L/PS/20/MEMO22/M., 22.
69.
In Daniel R. Brower and Edward J. Lazzerini, Russia’s Orient: Imperial Borderlands and Peoples, 1700–1917 (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press), 124.
70.
Perovsky, A Narrative, 36.
71.
Suzuki, Civilisation and Empire, 174.
72.
Perovsky, A Narrative, 181.
73.
Schimmelpenninck Van Der Oye, Russian Orientalism, 4.
74.
Campbell, Writing Security, 8.
75.
Ibid., 73.
76.
Brower and Lazzerini, Russia’s Orient, 313.
77.
Mark Bassin, ‘Geographies of Imperial Identity’, in The Cambridge History of Russia Volume 2: Imperial Russia, 1689–1917, ed. Dominic Lieven (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 45–64.
78.
Alex Marshall, The Russian General Staff and Asia, 1860–1917 (London: Taylor & Francis, 2006), 26.
79.
Aleksandr Balasoglo in Bassin, ‘Geographies of Imperial Identity’, 52.
80.
Veniukoff, The Progress of Russia in Central Asia, 1.
81.
In Milan Hauner, What Is Asia to Us? (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1990), 42.
82.
Bassin, ‘Geographies of Imperial Identity’, 56.
83.
Julia Kristeva, Strangers to Ourselves (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991); Cecilia Sjöholm, Kristeva and the Political (London: Taylor & Francis, 2005).
84.
Sjöholm, Kristeva and the Political, 97.
85.
Lieven, Russia and the Origins of the First World War, 6.
86.
Kristeva, Strangers to Ourselves, 191.
87.
Ibid., 95.
88.
Brower and Lazzerini, Russia’s Orient, 313.
89.
Sjöholm, Kristeva and the Political, 64–5.
90.
In Rieber, The Politics of Autocracy, 71.
91.
Ibid., 95.
92.
Ibid., 97.
93.
Bassin, ‘Geographies of Imperial Identity’, 51.
94.
Ibid.
95.
Schuyler and Grigor’ev, Turkistan, 402.
96.
George Herbert Mead, Mind, Self, and Society: From the Perspective of a Social Behaviorist, ed. Charles W. Morris (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1934).
97.
Becker, Russia’s Protectorates in Central Asia, 116–21.
98.
Arminius Vámbéry, Sketches of Central Asia: Additional Chapters on my Travels, Adventures, and on the Ethnology of Central Asia (London: William H. Allen & Co., 1868), 435.
99.
Ibid., 438.
100.
Arminius Vámbéry, Western Culture in Eastern Lands (London: J. Murray, 1906), 52.
101.
Ibid., 121.
102.
Ibid., 133.
103.
Burnaby, A Ride to Khiva, 82.
104.
Curzon, Russia in Central Asia, 279–81; Francis H. Skrine and Edward D. Ross, The Heart of Asia: A History of Russian Turkestan and the Central Asian Khanates from the Earliest Times (London: Methuen & Co., 1899); Watson, ‘Russia and the European State System’, 273.
105.
Curzon, Russia in Central Asia, 392.
106.
Ibid., 141.
107.
Ibid., 392.
108.
India Office, 6846/(i), doc 80, Letter dated 13 October 1896.
109.
Bassin, ‘Geographies of Imperial Identity’, 50.
110.
Gong, The Standard of ‘Civilization’.
