Interpreting the Russian Revolution: The Language and Symbols of 1917 (review)

For the trained philologist and student of early Soviet Russian culture, the relatively recent increase in sensitivity toward issues of language among Russian historians has been a welcome and inspiring trend. By developing a theoretical language that is more readily recognizable on both sides of the disciplinary divide, the "linguistic turn" has given rise to a productive line of interdisciplinary scholarship that has challenged basic assumptions about both the object and the methods of studies in both fields. Not surprisingly, however, the increasingly blurred boundaries between history and philology (sometimes conveniently lumped under the still more hazy rubric of "cultural studies") has given rise to a new set of interpretive ambiguities and challenges. I mention this at the outset not only as a general introduction to this study of the language and symbols of 1917, but also to clarify the disciplinary orientation of the reviewer. From the perspective of one who devotes particular attention to the issue of language and the many and often complex meanings and metaphors attached to it, this book, while admirable in its interpretation of various semiotic domains critical to the revolutionary culture, seems hesitant to actually take the linguistic turn.

The authors introduce their book as an examination of "the symbolic battlefield of the revolution" and the role played by language in "defin[ing] identities and creat[ing] new meanings in the politics of 1917."¹ More specifically, theirs is a study of "the language of the revolution," language being understood here to include "songs and texts, symbolic flags and emblems, pictures and monuments, banners and slogans, common speech and rumour, dress and body language, ritualized demonstrations by the crowd, parades and other ceremonies to represent and show allegiance to the idea of 'the revolution'" (1). In addition to this "language of the revolution," the authors posit the existence of more discrete "idioms" or "dialects," which interpret the basic vocabulary of revolution in differing ways, thus giving rise to the contested meanings and conflicting identities that frequently serve as the focal point for language-sensitive studies of social and cultural history. The key to political success, the authors argue, lay in the "flexibility" of a particular party's "political language" "to accommodate the greatest number of different idioms and dialects, and yet unite them all in a common understanding which had real significance for people's daily lives, was likely to attract the most support and dominate the revolutionary discourse" (2). They begin, then, with at least three different levels of language: the broadest level of "revolutionary discourse," which remains unattached to any specific speech community or other agent of language production; the differing "idioms" of revolutionary discourse, which refer to the way the "language of the revolution" is actually put into practice by specific groups, and the "political language" that the various revolutionary groups bring into the field of battle. As the following discussion will show, the authors make the strongest case for the notion of "idioms" and "dialects" as a meta-linguistic category – so strong, in fact, that they leave the reader wondering whether the other two types of language are necessary or germane to their story.

The authors organize the book around what they see to be some of the key domains of revolutionary vocabulary (my term) in which the battles for symbolic meaning and identity were waged. Chapter 1 argues that a combination of rumors portraying the tsar and his family in a disadvantageous light helped create the "revolutionary mood" that led to his downfall. The main topics of the rumors concerned the tsarina's promiscuity and unfaithfulness, and the tsar's impotence, marital subservience, and moral corruption. Many of these rumors started in "high-society" circles, which, according to the authors, filtered down to the masses and in so doing, gave them added credence (26). Chapter 2 examines some of the more important symbols or "instruments of revolutionary politics" (32) and documents...