Acknowledgments

This book has taken many more years to complete than I initially expected. In the process of researching and writing it I have accumulated so many debts that even remembering them all presents a challenge. My first tribute goes to those who are no longer with us. Aljoša Mimica of Belgrade University was my first sociology professor. An impressive lecturer, outstanding translator, and lifelong Durkheim scholar, Mimica was a European humanist in the best sense of that term. He imparted to me a lasting love for the sociological classics, and I can only hope that some of that appreciation will be obvious to the reader of this book. Victor Zaslavsky was the pioneering sociologist of Soviet-type societies, a term that, to my knowledge at least, he invented. As will become obvious in due course, his work on the unintended consequences of Soviet nationality policy changed my views on the Yugoslav national question as well. But, as everyone who knew Victor will recognize, he was, above all, a great Russian Jewish intelligent whose interests and occupational experiences spanned a vast array of fields, from engineering to art, sociology, and literature. I learned a tremendous amount from him, but it is his humor, warmth, and kindness – his “good Russian uncle” personality – that I will always cherish and remember.

My debts to those who, I am thankful, are still among us are equally great. Victoria Bonnell has been a mentor, supporter, and intellectual fan for many decades. She is responsible for imbuing in me a lifelong love for comparative-historical sociology, and it is to her intellectual inspiration that I owe my interest in Russia. The significance of some of the insights she passed on sometimes dawned on me only years later. The importance attributed to intellectual developments during Khrushchev’s Thaw in the last chapter of this book is a case in point. Andrew Janos has served as a model of what a leading scholar of East-Central Europe “throughout the ages” – as he would undoubtedly put it – should be like. Many of his contributions have continued to inspire me throughout the years, and much of my writing on nationalism from the relative backwardness perspective is indebted to him, even if my focus on ideas is different from his preoccupation with the effects of geopolitics and international political economy on domestic politics. Ken Jowitt’s influence lurks in the background of much of this book. He is responsible for making me aware that being an insider is a limited intellectual privilege. His lectures and writings on comparative communism threw a completely new light on a phenomenon that I thought I understood well enough as a native, but that, thanks to his insights, appeared both more unfamiliar and more brightly illuminated as time went on. Leon Kojen of the Faculty of Philosophy at the University of Belgrade has been a lifelong intellectual mentor. His analytical clarity, intellectual precision, and knowledge of many fields – from philosophy to literature, history, and the sociological classics – combine into a model of intellectual excellence that is hard to follow. His comments on virtually all chapters of this book have made it into a much better work than it would have been otherwise.

In addition to my mentors and intellectual models, many other individuals have supported my scholarly endeavors over the years. Tomek Grabowski stands out among them, not only as a passionate and conscientious reader of my work, but also as an intellectual companion in life’s journey. I am grateful to him beyond words. Andrej Milivojević has read all of my work many times over. A historian by training and intellectual vocation, he noticed many flaws early on and helped me correct them. He was also instrumental in helping me collect sources and compile the tables for this book. I cherish my friendship with him dearly. Marc Garcelon has been a long-standing intellectual companion, fellow sociologist, and friend. I greatly profited from his many insights in ways that may not always be obvious to him. Rogers Brubaker, Vladimir Tismaneanu, and Jeffrey Kopstein supported me in different ways, whether by commenting on my work in progress or by writing endless grant recommendations, regardless of whether there was a realistic chance of success or not. I can only hope that this book meets their high expectations and represents a partial reward for their kindness and effort.

A little step into my “native realm” – to borrow from the title of one of Czeslaw Milosz’s books – is now in order. In my hometown, Belgrade, where I made my first intellectual steps, conversations with Slobodan Naumović, Milan Subotić, and Borislav Radović have been a source of inspiration over several decades. The same can be said of my many interesting exchanges with Branko Milanović, who, though a longtime resident in the United States, is intellectually and emotionally still deeply steeped in “our part” of the world. He is not only an outstanding economist but also a connoisseur and practitioner of good writing, and thus a strident critic of bad prose. His warm understanding for my faults was matched only by his hospitality and friendship on more occasions than I can recall.

My understanding of Russia was greatly enhanced by my contacts and friendship with many individuals, both in Russia and outside it. Among those from Russia who left the most lasting impact are Oleg Kharkhordin, Elena Zdravomyslova, Viktor Voronkov, Oleg Vite, Ana Temkina, Katia Makarova, Viktoria Koroteeva, Vadim Volkov, Sergei Agaponov, Elena Galkina, and Ana Logvinova. Among Russia’s “outsider-insiders,” David Woodruff, David Montgomery, and Gavin Helf stand out as companions of long standing. A special place must be reserved for Alexei Miller, historian and friend. He read my work with a critical eye and helped me understand my mistakes, particularly about the imperial Russian period. More than that, he introduced me to many sides of Russian life and often acted as my “elder Russian brother,” although, I am thankful, not in the official Soviet sense of that phrase. Gregory Freidin mercifully read my chapter on Russian literature, assuring me that there was no kliukva (literally, cranberry; metaphorically, a mistake or misunderstanding, in particular of foreigners, about Russian life) in it; if some has reappeared in the meantime this is exclusively my fault. The same is, of course, true for all the other individuals mentioned here, none of whom should be blamed for my “cranberries.”

Many institutions have supported my work over the years. The Department of Sociology at Oberlin College has provided a congenial and friendly environment, the very opposite of the high-strung atmosphere of many a research university. “Far from the madding crowd” I was allowed to think and develop, and I am grateful to my department colleagues and staff for that. Oberlin College deserves special thanks for supporting my research with several leaves of absence and internal grants that allowed for more semesters off and summer research abroad. Without that kind of help I would never have been in a position to delve deeper into Russian and Yugoslav history. At different stages, research for this book was supported by the Social Science Research Council, the Woodrow Wilson Center for Scholars in Washington, D.C., the Andrew Mellon Foundation, and the Rockefeller Foundation. This last institution is responsible for a blissful month in Bellagio, Italy, where I pondered the meaning of Weber’s writings on nationalism in the serene atmosphere of Lake Como. To all these institutions I am deeply grateful. In concluding, I wish to express my gratitude to the two anonymous reviewers of the manuscript whose comments were instrumental in helping me improve the book as well to two editors at Cambridge University Press, Lewis Bateman and Shaun Vigil, for their guidance and patience.

Several chapters of this book draw on or reproduce materials that previously appeared in article form. Part of Chapter 1 draws on “Perceptions of the State in Russia and Serbia: The Role of Ideas in the Soviet and Yugoslav Collapse,” Post-Soviet Affairs, 20, 2 (April–June 2004): 164–194. Part of the section on Stalinism in Chapter 4 is reproduced from “Stalinism and Russian Nationalism: A Reconceptualization,” Post-Soviet Affairs, 23, 2 (April–June 2007): 156–183. Both articles are available at the publisher Web site of Taylor & Francis: www.tandfonline.com. Parts of Chapter 2 that deal with Weber’s theory of the nation first appeared in “Historical Legacies, Nationalist Mobilization and Political Outcomes in Russia and Serbia: A Weberian View,” Theory and Society, 25, 6 (December 1996): 763–801. Finally, the section on Solzhenitsyn and Grossman in Chapter 4 first appeared in Italian as “Aleksandr Solženicyn e Vasilij Grossman: Uno slavophilo e un occidentalista contro lo stato totalitario Sovietico,” in Tommaso Piffer and Vladimir Zubok, eds., Società totalitarie e transizione alla democrazia. Saggi in memoria di Victor Zaslavsky (Rome: Il Mulino, 2011), pp. 375–411. I would like to thank the publishers for allowing me to reproduce material from these articles here.

It has become a custom for authors to say something about their most loved ones, and there is every reason to engage in this honorable ritual here. My wife, Frieda, and son, Danilo, have been a joy and great support for many years, and I am grateful to them beyond words. They were both patient listeners, though with my son I shared readings of a different (more exciting!) kind. Frieda absorbed endless renditions of the book’s argument with remarkable stamina and ever-renewed curiosity. She also undertook the heroic task of composing the Index. To devote this book to Frieda and Danilo is truly the least I can do for them.