n July of last year, Vladimir Putin penned and released an essay “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians.” Putin argued that Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia are historically one people, denying the independence of the Ukrainian state. He questioned the integrity of Ukraine’s borders, suggesting that the state is an “anti-Russia” concept crafted by foreign forces. He hyperbolically wrote, “it would not be an exaggeration to say that the path of forced assimilation, the formation of an ethnically pure Ukrainian state, aggressive towards Russia, is comparable in its consequences to the use of weapons of mass destruction against us.”
In hindsight, the essay could be seen as the apotheosis of Putin’s ahistorical worldview and the justification for his February 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Indeed, Putin’s weaponization of history is not without precedent in Soviet or Russian history, and both mirrors and reflects how authoritarian and autocratic regimes—such as North Korea and China—have selectively used history for their own purposes. The story of this use and misuse of history by Pyongyang, Beijing, and Moscow is the subject of Katie Stallard’s new book “Dancing on Bones.” A blend of history and journalism, Stallard explores how each country uses history to legitimize their rule, justify their decisions, and perpetuate their political and patrimonial power. It is a story that is all the more interesting given the countries’ intertwined histories—and one well told by Stallard.
There is, of course, a risk, and one that Stallard artfully avoids, of creating an axis of memory propaganda by exploring China, Russia, and North Korea together. To be sure, the histories of the three countries are closely connected, but—while each uses history for their own purposes—the systems are markedly different. North Korea is a totalitarian regime, China is authoritarian capitalist, and Russia is, in the words of Timothy Frye, a personalist autocracy (though increasingly trending towards authoritarianism). There is a marked difference in a North Korean citizen’s ability to question their history compared to the average Russian—again with the caveat that Stallard highlights, under “late Putinism” (to borrow a phrase from Mark Galeotti) historical interrogation is becoming a less tolerated in Russia.
Her chapters on Russia were particularly interesting and timely. The arc of Russia’s Soviet and post-Soviet historical understanding is fascinating to read, especially at a time when the weaponization of history is actively underway. This understanding is of paramount importance. For the West, Russia’s manipulation of the Ukrainian history and the Great Patriotic War sounds absurd, but that is because this history is not meant for the West. As Stallard highlights, Putin weaponized the past to buttress his rule when his support was flagging, legitimize his annexation of Crimea and the invasion of Ukraine, and convince the Russian people of the importance of his crusade—a manufactured justification for a manufactured crisis. However, Putin is just the latest to manipulate Russian history.
Stallard explores how Stalin limited recognition of the Second World War in its immediate wake, expecting people to return to normalcy as quickly as possible. After Stalin’s death, the space for evaluating Russia’s role in the war grew, but was later curtailed as the country stalled and the Party needed to buttress its rule. While the collapse of the Soviet Union created space for a thaw and greater interrogation of the past, Putin has sought to close this space, even coopting grassroots movements—such as the “Immortal Regiment”—for his own purposes.
The importance of this understanding historical manipulation by China, Russia, and North Korea cannot be understated. It matters less how the West understands history and more how the countries in question see their own history and impart it to themselves and their people—a historical version of strategic empathy if you will. This does not mean an acceptance of the officially presented facts or narratives, but an appreciation that this is how these countries view themselves and, by extension, the world. Looking at it from the West’s perspective alone is a sure way to craft poor policy.
That Stallard manages to address the histories of three countries in such a concise volume is impressive. However, that brevity is a touch limiting. While it is skillfully woven together, one wishes Stallard sat with each country—offering more of her own insights and experiences into the narrative. To be sure she does this and when she does it really brings the story to life. This is where her book really stands out: her personal encounters in the countries she surveys. It is one thing to read about how North Korea manipulates its history, but another to see it in practice when she encounters a “model” North Korean. It is the same when she is in China interviewing the family of a KMT resistance fighter who was later condemned by the Chinese Communist Party—a stigma that still follows the family. Equally, fascinating are the views of Russians and Ukrainians in the Donbas and how they view their circumstances. It is easy for those in the West to scoff and discount the historical narratives presented by Pyongyang, Beijing, and Moscow as inaccurate or simply made-up, but another thing entirely to see the effects of the regimes’ manipulation on the people themselves.
This manipulation of history will only get worse. As technology evolves allowing for greater censorship and control, it will become increasingly easy for regimes to airbrush history—the digital version of Stalin editing group photos. This is already underway in China. Beijing’s efforts to achieve collective amnesia over Tiananmen Square, its ten cent Army waging a war against those deemed insufficiently patriotic or offending China writ large, the revisionist history of COVID, and its “rehabilitation” of the Uyghurs are all enabled by technology. Technology will allow states to simply ban a word or phrase and block alternative news sources.
Of course, every country uses history and myth for its own purposes. America’s founding myths and history are a glue for the national experience. It is this fact that made many particularly uncomfortable with recent reevaluations of the country’s past—that by questioning the past one risks unraveling the fabric of the country. It is was not the questioning that risked unraveling the fabric, but it was the nihilistic and uncritical engagement with the country’s history that was the problem. That this type of engagement is allowed without criminal repercussions separates the United States and liberal democracies from China, North Korea, and Russia.
Liberalism in its traditional (and non-partisan) form allows space for necessary historical exploration and interrogation—to learn the lessons of the past to build a better future. Uncritical acceptance is no different than authoritarian states’ desired outcome—blind obedience to the ruling power’s historical narrative. Questioning history is inherently good. Yet, it is the nihilism of today that is a problem: that if something or someone is wrong by today’s standards or simply wrong, then the system they created or participated is wrong and irredeemable. There is nothing wrong with historical interrogation provided it is based on facts and history. It is the only way in which society can grow.
a global affairs media network
Authoritarians and Alternative Histories
Photo by Steve Harvey via Unsplash.
July 16, 2022
Katie Stallard’s new book “Dancing on Bones” explores how China, Russia, and North Korea use history to legitimize, justify, and perpetuate their political and patrimonial power. In his book review, Joshua Huminski analyzes the importance of understanding this historical manipulation.
I
n July of last year, Vladimir Putin penned and released an essay “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians.” Putin argued that Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia are historically one people, denying the independence of the Ukrainian state. He questioned the integrity of Ukraine’s borders, suggesting that the state is an “anti-Russia” concept crafted by foreign forces. He hyperbolically wrote, “it would not be an exaggeration to say that the path of forced assimilation, the formation of an ethnically pure Ukrainian state, aggressive towards Russia, is comparable in its consequences to the use of weapons of mass destruction against us.”
In hindsight, the essay could be seen as the apotheosis of Putin’s ahistorical worldview and the justification for his February 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Indeed, Putin’s weaponization of history is not without precedent in Soviet or Russian history, and both mirrors and reflects how authoritarian and autocratic regimes—such as North Korea and China—have selectively used history for their own purposes. The story of this use and misuse of history by Pyongyang, Beijing, and Moscow is the subject of Katie Stallard’s new book “Dancing on Bones.” A blend of history and journalism, Stallard explores how each country uses history to legitimize their rule, justify their decisions, and perpetuate their political and patrimonial power. It is a story that is all the more interesting given the countries’ intertwined histories—and one well told by Stallard.
There is, of course, a risk, and one that Stallard artfully avoids, of creating an axis of memory propaganda by exploring China, Russia, and North Korea together. To be sure, the histories of the three countries are closely connected, but—while each uses history for their own purposes—the systems are markedly different. North Korea is a totalitarian regime, China is authoritarian capitalist, and Russia is, in the words of Timothy Frye, a personalist autocracy (though increasingly trending towards authoritarianism). There is a marked difference in a North Korean citizen’s ability to question their history compared to the average Russian—again with the caveat that Stallard highlights, under “late Putinism” (to borrow a phrase from Mark Galeotti) historical interrogation is becoming a less tolerated in Russia.
Her chapters on Russia were particularly interesting and timely. The arc of Russia’s Soviet and post-Soviet historical understanding is fascinating to read, especially at a time when the weaponization of history is actively underway. This understanding is of paramount importance. For the West, Russia’s manipulation of the Ukrainian history and the Great Patriotic War sounds absurd, but that is because this history is not meant for the West. As Stallard highlights, Putin weaponized the past to buttress his rule when his support was flagging, legitimize his annexation of Crimea and the invasion of Ukraine, and convince the Russian people of the importance of his crusade—a manufactured justification for a manufactured crisis. However, Putin is just the latest to manipulate Russian history.
Stallard explores how Stalin limited recognition of the Second World War in its immediate wake, expecting people to return to normalcy as quickly as possible. After Stalin’s death, the space for evaluating Russia’s role in the war grew, but was later curtailed as the country stalled and the Party needed to buttress its rule. While the collapse of the Soviet Union created space for a thaw and greater interrogation of the past, Putin has sought to close this space, even coopting grassroots movements—such as the “Immortal Regiment”—for his own purposes.
The importance of this understanding historical manipulation by China, Russia, and North Korea cannot be understated. It matters less how the West understands history and more how the countries in question see their own history and impart it to themselves and their people—a historical version of strategic empathy if you will. This does not mean an acceptance of the officially presented facts or narratives, but an appreciation that this is how these countries view themselves and, by extension, the world. Looking at it from the West’s perspective alone is a sure way to craft poor policy.
That Stallard manages to address the histories of three countries in such a concise volume is impressive. However, that brevity is a touch limiting. While it is skillfully woven together, one wishes Stallard sat with each country—offering more of her own insights and experiences into the narrative. To be sure she does this and when she does it really brings the story to life. This is where her book really stands out: her personal encounters in the countries she surveys. It is one thing to read about how North Korea manipulates its history, but another to see it in practice when she encounters a “model” North Korean. It is the same when she is in China interviewing the family of a KMT resistance fighter who was later condemned by the Chinese Communist Party—a stigma that still follows the family. Equally, fascinating are the views of Russians and Ukrainians in the Donbas and how they view their circumstances. It is easy for those in the West to scoff and discount the historical narratives presented by Pyongyang, Beijing, and Moscow as inaccurate or simply made-up, but another thing entirely to see the effects of the regimes’ manipulation on the people themselves.
This manipulation of history will only get worse. As technology evolves allowing for greater censorship and control, it will become increasingly easy for regimes to airbrush history—the digital version of Stalin editing group photos. This is already underway in China. Beijing’s efforts to achieve collective amnesia over Tiananmen Square, its ten cent Army waging a war against those deemed insufficiently patriotic or offending China writ large, the revisionist history of COVID, and its “rehabilitation” of the Uyghurs are all enabled by technology. Technology will allow states to simply ban a word or phrase and block alternative news sources.
Of course, every country uses history and myth for its own purposes. America’s founding myths and history are a glue for the national experience. It is this fact that made many particularly uncomfortable with recent reevaluations of the country’s past—that by questioning the past one risks unraveling the fabric of the country. It is was not the questioning that risked unraveling the fabric, but it was the nihilistic and uncritical engagement with the country’s history that was the problem. That this type of engagement is allowed without criminal repercussions separates the United States and liberal democracies from China, North Korea, and Russia.
Liberalism in its traditional (and non-partisan) form allows space for necessary historical exploration and interrogation—to learn the lessons of the past to build a better future. Uncritical acceptance is no different than authoritarian states’ desired outcome—blind obedience to the ruling power’s historical narrative. Questioning history is inherently good. Yet, it is the nihilism of today that is a problem: that if something or someone is wrong by today’s standards or simply wrong, then the system they created or participated is wrong and irredeemable. There is nothing wrong with historical interrogation provided it is based on facts and history. It is the only way in which society can grow.
