istory favors the victors. Our recollections often overlook what lies in the grey: the narratives of the exploited and the maltreated; the ability of good to do evil. Such is the case of the Trans-Siberian Railway, a 5,772-mile journey from Moscow to Vladivostok that crosses eight time zones. Its stops of note include the Red Square, a cultural hallmark characterized by 19th century-architecture, and the Ipatiev House, where Emperor Nicholas II was executed by the Bolsheviks in 1918. The railway’s claim to fame is its length; when travelling off-route, the train can venture 6,580 miles, a distance of ⅓ the Earth’s circumference. This distance has made the line advantageous in times of dispute and hardship. Over time, use of the Trans-Siberian in conflict has made the train a vehicle of victimhood and perpetration, a reflection of the desires of its passengers and managers to liberate and to oppress.
Since its inception, the Trans-Siberian has facilitated competition between nations, even to the point of war. Tsar Alexander III initiated the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway in 1891 to match the industrial capabilities of Britain, France, and Germany. In 1896, Sergei Witte, a Russian government minister desiring Russian access to natural resources, spearheaded the expansion of a railroad into northern Manchuria. Known as the Chinese Eastern Railway, the path eased trade between Russia and China to the chagrin of Japan, who interpreted the railway as clear evidence of Russian interest in Manchuria. (After the war, the Moscow to Vladivostok routes running through Manchuria were linked in 1916.) To worsen matters, in 1900, Russia sent 170,000 troops, transported via the Trans-Siberian, to China in response to the Boxer Rebellion. A crisis resulted: Japan worried about Russian presence in East Asia, and Russia sought a counter to a potential Japanese attack on Siberia. The Russo-Japanese war ensued. But the railway, once a deliverer of triumph, now secured defeat. Incomplete at the time, the railway complicated the steady transportation of troops and supplies to Northeast Asia, leaving Russia vulnerable and contributing to its defeat in 1905.
The railway’s claim to fame is its length; when travelling off-route, the train can venture 6,580 miles, a distance of ⅓ the Earth’s circumference.
The later completion of the Trans-Siberian line was made possible by the oppression of immigrant laborers. From 1891-1914, five million migrants from Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus, encouraged by the Russian government, immigrated to Siberia to seek work on the line. Foreign workers, primarily from China but also from Japan, Korea, Italy, and Germany, constituted an additional 27% of the workforce. Asian laborers received lower wages and worse tools, stipulated by sub-contractors rather than the railroad administration. The government upheld these discriminatory practices by claiming that Chinese workers were less productive than their European counterparts.
During World War II, the Trans-Siberian continued to assume a grey role as a resource for the Axis Powers and a path to liberation for Jewish people to escape Nazi influence. Japan and Germany relied on the Trans-Siberian to transport supplies until the USSR joined forces with the Allies. Simultaneously, Jewish refugees in the Soviet Union were using the Trans-Siberian to reach boats bound for Japan at the port of Vladivostok, the last stop on the line. A ticket to the port was $200, and the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee supported some getaways by offsetting the cost. From 1940-1941, about 2,200 Jewish citizens fled Lithuania on the railway. If they reached Japan on boat, they sought refuge in group homes for as long as their transit visas allowed, and a few sought further transport to the United States.
Today, the Trans-Siberian railway journey is hailed as one of the most luxurious in the world—a title that can obscure the complexities of its flawed and nuanced past. History has made the line a product of its surroundings, a reflection of the people and events it has transported and endured. Understanding its past is critical to appreciating its present.
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Trans-Siberian Railway's Luxury Belies its Dark Past
July 26, 2020
H
istory favors the victors. Our recollections often overlook what lies in the grey: the narratives of the exploited and the maltreated; the ability of good to do evil. Such is the case of the Trans-Siberian Railway, a 5,772-mile journey from Moscow to Vladivostok that crosses eight time zones. Its stops of note include the Red Square, a cultural hallmark characterized by 19th century-architecture, and the Ipatiev House, where Emperor Nicholas II was executed by the Bolsheviks in 1918. The railway’s claim to fame is its length; when travelling off-route, the train can venture 6,580 miles, a distance of ⅓ the Earth’s circumference. This distance has made the line advantageous in times of dispute and hardship. Over time, use of the Trans-Siberian in conflict has made the train a vehicle of victimhood and perpetration, a reflection of the desires of its passengers and managers to liberate and to oppress.
Since its inception, the Trans-Siberian has facilitated competition between nations, even to the point of war. Tsar Alexander III initiated the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway in 1891 to match the industrial capabilities of Britain, France, and Germany. In 1896, Sergei Witte, a Russian government minister desiring Russian access to natural resources, spearheaded the expansion of a railroad into northern Manchuria. Known as the Chinese Eastern Railway, the path eased trade between Russia and China to the chagrin of Japan, who interpreted the railway as clear evidence of Russian interest in Manchuria. (After the war, the Moscow to Vladivostok routes running through Manchuria were linked in 1916.) To worsen matters, in 1900, Russia sent 170,000 troops, transported via the Trans-Siberian, to China in response to the Boxer Rebellion. A crisis resulted: Japan worried about Russian presence in East Asia, and Russia sought a counter to a potential Japanese attack on Siberia. The Russo-Japanese war ensued. But the railway, once a deliverer of triumph, now secured defeat. Incomplete at the time, the railway complicated the steady transportation of troops and supplies to Northeast Asia, leaving Russia vulnerable and contributing to its defeat in 1905.
The railway’s claim to fame is its length; when travelling off-route, the train can venture 6,580 miles, a distance of ⅓ the Earth’s circumference.
The railway’s claim to fame is its length; when travelling off-route, the train can venture 6,580 miles, a distance of ⅓ the Earth’s circumference.
The later completion of the Trans-Siberian line was made possible by the oppression of immigrant laborers. From 1891-1914, five million migrants from Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus, encouraged by the Russian government, immigrated to Siberia to seek work on the line. Foreign workers, primarily from China but also from Japan, Korea, Italy, and Germany, constituted an additional 27% of the workforce. Asian laborers received lower wages and worse tools, stipulated by sub-contractors rather than the railroad administration. The government upheld these discriminatory practices by claiming that Chinese workers were less productive than their European counterparts.
During World War II, the Trans-Siberian continued to assume a grey role as a resource for the Axis Powers and a path to liberation for Jewish people to escape Nazi influence. Japan and Germany relied on the Trans-Siberian to transport supplies until the USSR joined forces with the Allies. Simultaneously, Jewish refugees in the Soviet Union were using the Trans-Siberian to reach boats bound for Japan at the port of Vladivostok, the last stop on the line. A ticket to the port was $200, and the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee supported some getaways by offsetting the cost. From 1940-1941, about 2,200 Jewish citizens fled Lithuania on the railway. If they reached Japan on boat, they sought refuge in group homes for as long as their transit visas allowed, and a few sought further transport to the United States.
Today, the Trans-Siberian railway journey is hailed as one of the most luxurious in the world—a title that can obscure the complexities of its flawed and nuanced past. History has made the line a product of its surroundings, a reflection of the people and events it has transported and endured. Understanding its past is critical to appreciating its present.