On Colonial Knowledge, Africa, and Imperial Russia
By Anita Frison
When I started working on Africa in Russian Imperial Culture: Race, Empire, and Representation (1850-1917), I only had a general understanding of a phenomenon – that of the (re-)construction and reshaping of sub-Saharan Africa in late tsarist culture – which seemed to be largely associated with marginal, peripheral individuals united by scientific curiosity and a penchant for exoticism. Even the poet Nikolai Gumilev, arguably the most famous Russian writer commonly associated with Africa, seemed an anomaly in his extensive and layered work on this continent.
However, I quickly realised that their efforts were by no means marginal, either in the context of fin-de-siècle Russia or within the parameters of European colonial knowledge production. In fact, the discourses, rhetoric and practices of Russian subjects in relation to Africa were deeply embedded in Western colonial culture, not least because, as emerges most vividly in the fourth chapter (Collectors), there was a direct and fruitful collaboration between them. In this regard, examining imperial Russia’s cultural and political attitudes towards Africa supports the ‘colonialism without colonies’ paradigm, as it vividly illustrates how colonial discourse transcended actual colonial ties and was adopted, perpetuated, and promoted by nations lacking colonies (in this case, African ones). Consequently, the notion of Russian exceptionalism, which was most prominent in Soviet anti-colonial rhetoric but was actually rooted in late 19th-century writings, is largely subverted.
The second most notable feature to emerge was that the construction of knowledge about Africa in late imperial Russia was relevant to both highbrow and lowbrow circles. This is reflected throughout the volume, from the first chapter, which introduces figures from various social backgrounds who were associated with Africa, to the subsequent analysis of their works, including travelogues, maps, anthropological studies, encyclopaedia entries, museum collections, and literary efforts. Sub-Saharan Africa was shaped for a wide audience which included highly educated people such as scholars and highbrow artists, as well as commoners. Indeed, it featured prominently in cultural products aimed at the lower classes and played a significant role in the late 19th-century effort to democratise knowledge for the masses. Thus, through dubious literary works, second-rate essays and social novelties such as the opening of museums to the public, a certain rhetoric of race – mirroring its no less unfounded highbrow counterpart – began to permeate the people’s understanding of Africa, indelibly shaping their perception of the continent.
The five chapters of the book, presenting an array of figures and analysing their work, all convey these two perspectives, which act as a red thread throughout: Russia’s participation in the Western system of knowledge about Africa, and the pervasiveness of the ensuing racial discourse in various media and social classes. In this respect, I believe it is important (and even crucial) to always put cultural and political phenomena occurring in Russia – often victim of the exceptionalist rhetoric (on the Russian side) or of othering (on the Western side) – into a wider, global context. As we live in an interconnected and complex world, it is essential to remember that discourses and practices are largely shared and developed in unison – for better or worse.
