Charting the Waves of Augmentation: Textual Dualism & Augmented Reality in the Russian Empire

Jeremy Antley jantley@gmail.com @jsantley

Presentation Paper for Theorizing the Web 2012 Conference 14 April 2012

I want to thank you all for coming to a presentation that has absolutely nothing directly to do with the web and dwells, mostly, in the nineteenth century. Don't worry- we will still manage to put our toe in twentieth century waters but digital bits won't be making an appearance here. I'll be talking today about Russian peasants, rumors, a little bit of Gramsci, 1861, transliterating Jewish names, as well as Trotsky and his dreams of Soviet smychka. The intersection of atoms and bits, the emergence of digital dualist conceptions and practices, along with the omnipresent components of augmented reality can be traced to a time when only the presence of textual sources challenged augmented conceptions. To alter a phrase from McLuhan's 'Gutenberg Galaxy', I won't be charting the constellation but rather the wave of augmentation as it ebbed and flowed across social space. What do I mean by 'charting the waves of augmentation'? To understand how I approach this topic, let's visit the work of Simon Franklin, a scholar who specializes in analyzing writing technologies across Russian history. In his most recent article for the journal Kritika, titled 'Mapping the Graphosphere' Franklin makes the following observation: "There may be one or several cultures using a given technology, and in each of those cultures the interrelations among technologies may function similarly or differently." I like this quote because it illuminates the interaction of textual dualist norms espoused by Tsarist authorities and the augmented reality concepts so often embraced by groups considered to be in the weaker position of power. The central conflict between textual dualist claims to authority and augmented reality claims to authority rests on terms such as asynchronicity and high or low mobility potentials. I have found it useful to isolate inquires of expressed knowledge through a limited scope: to what degree does a knowledge construct allow the user or transmitter to modify the contents? Items that resist modification- a printed book or document, for example- I classify as 'low mobility' constructs, while items that either allow or encourage modification- a folktale or rumor for example- I classify as 'high mobility' constructs'. Of course, binary distinctions only go so far in their descriptive power so it would be best to remember that knowledge constructs can assume hybrid form- such as a 'fill-in-the-blank' document (insert picture of taxes). Often, when two constructs encounter each other in social space it becomes evident that the knowledge perspectives are asynchronous and unless this asynchronicity is resolved or transmuted it produces disruptive effects. For the period under examination, this largely amounted to a conflict between low mobility textual sources produced by Russian authorities and high mobility oral sources utilized through folklore, use of rumor or just plainly stating one's name.

If we accept, as Franklin does, that multiple cultures exist and interoperate, then we must begin to chart the waves of augmentation or the degree to which a particular culture permeates the milieu of space under investigation. Because augmented effects ebb and flow based on a participant's physical location and technological utilization, documenting permeation of a particular culture into social space is a continuously dynamic activity. Here a selection from the short essay by Gramsci, titled 'War of Maneuver to the War of Position' provides helpful guidance: "the war of maneuver subsists so long as it is a question of of winning positions which are not decisive, so that all the resources of the State's hegemony cannot be mobilized. But when these positions have lost their value and only the decisive positions are at stake, then one passes over to siege warfare; this is concentrated, difficult, and requires exceptional qualities of patience and inventiveness." Take, for example, the emancipation of the serfs in 1861. Fear of peasant 'interpretation' of the historic declaration worried many in the tsar's domains. Whereas previous efforts to reform, but not abolish, serfdom made peasant interpretations of freedom a moot but still dangerous question (then, a war of maneuver), the new emancipation edict dictating terms of land allotments and mortgage payments made peasant interpretations of 'freedom' (now a war of position) a much more important issue to authorities and nobles alike. This is because the edict would be delivered by a stable, low mobility textual artifact that, while paying lip service to the 'rule of law' ideals made more prominent with the rise of liberalism, in fact only provided a thin veneer to maintain inequalities rife within the absolutist Russian system. Peasants were largely illiterate and relied upon easily modified high mobility oral interpretations to challenge edicts they felt were either unfair, unjustified or would otherwise upend established relationships. Essentially, peasants understood rhetorical shifts of the 'social contract' introduced by textual modifications even though they themselves did not, generally, use textual technologies in the workings of their daily life. Thus the increasing trend introduced by Peter the Great towards asserting textual dualist norms, which created inherent asynchronicities with augmented reality, was not only noted but challenged by peasant communities through patient and inventive means. Take for example the abolitionist governor of Kaluga province who sent out 167 representatives known as the 'heralds of liberty' to travel to every peasant community in order that the most 'relevant' sections of the emancipation statutes would be read and interpreted correctly. It should also be noted that Tsar Alexander II signed the emancipation edict on the anniversary of his accession, but held off releasing the text to the public until the advent of Lent- a period when peasants were supposed to abstain from drinking alcohol. Beyond these

precautions by both governor and tsar alike, 80 military regiments were dispatched across European Russia in order to provide speedy relief should peasant emotions become too difficult for the massively understaffed rural presence of Tsarist authority to quell. Bishops were instructed to tell clergymen that peasants should be reminded of their obligations to the state and local landowner alike, because the real fear was not necessarily peasant insurrection but rather that peasants would not sow/harvest the 1861 crop. In effect, the Tsarist government knew emancipation would evolve from a war of position towards a war of siege as outlined by Gramsci. Their fears, while not realized on the scale imagined, did find some justification. Daniel Field, a prominent scholar of Russian peasants, noted this description from the Khar'kov provincial governor regarding the difficultly of getting peasants to accept the new laws: "Some squires, assisted by the mediators, have managed, with considerable sacrifice of their own advantage, to persuade the peasants to accept some kind of deal, but it very often happens that after an insignificant amount of time has passed the peasants renounce their adherence and the promises they have made, acting under the influence of some kind of absurd rumor which happens to reach them through passersby or which is even deliberately thought up by one of their fellows in order to dissuade the community from the agreement it has made." There is much to decipher in this gubernatorial statement. First, success has not been total for Khar'kov governor- only 'some squires' managed to get peasants to agree to the new land charters (the emancipation edict stipulated that peasants were to sign 'charters' acknowledging their acceptance of the new legal terms) and even then only at 'considerable sacrifice of their own advantage'- which was still considerable even after making concessions. Next, after an 'insignificant amount of time' the peasants have changed their minds. This was actually a tried and true tactic for peasants, who often performed delaying actions by withholding signatures or posing endless questions over the terms of new agreements. Now we come to the juicy part as the governor states that recalcitrant peasants were either 'influenced' by an 'absurd rumor' transmitted via passerby or 'deliberately' thought up by one of their own'. No matter what 'considerable sacrifice' was made by the squires, it could all be undone by the circulation of rumor. The textual document, a low mobility construct unable to be easily changed on the fly, found itself at the mercy of high mobility oral rumors. While the authorities believed their new laws would ameliorate the myriad problems associated with serfdom, they could not hope to negate the asynchronicites between peasant ideals of just and fair treatment and the values of supposed greater 'equality' espoused by the tsar's edict.

What's even more interesting is that the governors stance falls into the 'Myth of the Peasant'- essentially, that peasant attitudes could only be changed by either an outside force (the passerby) or an inside agitator. Looking at the quote again, it is not entirely clear what provoked the peasants depicted here to 'renounce their adherence and the promises they have made'- was it a passerby or was it an inside agitator? One thing is clear- 'rumor' derailed everything. But on a deeper level, the invocation of the 'peasant myth' demonstrates a paradoxical understanding on both the power and obstinacy of peasant populations. Peasants could create their own rumors, but this was often written off (quite literally) as the act of a solitary agitator and not the act of a determined populace, while many attempts to change peasant behavior were seen as only applicable if a 'certified' passerbys (remember the 'heralds of liberty' mentioned before?) engaged the peasant population. In effect, the peasant was not deemed capable of making their own interpretation- they had to be acted upon by an outside force or 'rouge' element within. We have only to look at some common refrains to get an idea how peasants utilized 'augmented reality' claims to dispute textual sources: 'The tsar wants it, but the boyars resist." "We belong to you, but the land belongs to us." (Field calls this "an expression of submission entwined with an assertion of right"- something many using social media platforms probably believe themselves) "You discuss the law, but we know the law." And, perhaps the most useful for our discussion today: "The tsar is merciful, but the psar (clerk) has no mercy." Jewish populations in Tsarist Russia understood this last refrain all too well. As Eugene Avrutin states in his book, Jews and the Imperial State: Identification Politics in Tsarist Russia: "While Jews could be easily identified visually as a collective group or defined in legal terms, authorities found it much more challenging to document Jews as individuals." Avrutin states that one of the more significant changes the Russian government made in documenting its population- especially Jews- was that it shifted in the middle of the 19th century from 'tax census revisions', to that of passports, city census records (considered far more accurate in identifying a growing urban population) and confession specific metrical books. Metrical books recorded the births, baptisms, marriages and deaths that occurred in a community- in effect delineating identity by acting as a record of an individuals denomination, legal

status, ethnic origin and place of residence. While this low mobility documentation provided greater insight on the population, building a panoptic gaze of greater efficiency, it could also create growing asynchronicites between individuals documented and the high mobility lives those individuals actually lived. Confusions arose when Jewish names were improperly transliterated into Russian, confounding draft registrations or admission into higher education. Gendered gaps in metrical books arose when Crown Rabbis failed to attend a females naming ceremony- the event at which registration of birth occurred. Corrections proved almost impossible- once an entry was made, amending that entry required submitting a petition to the Imperial bureaucracy. Yet, as Avrutin notes, "a change in the document- however small or inconsequential it may have appeared- undermined the integrity of the entire record-keeping system." While the low mobility, stable document provided panoptic power to the Imperial state, it could not readily adapt to the high mobility, augmented lives of subjects and thus reported only an asynchronous textual dualist reality. Returning to the period of serf emancipation, Daniel Field's following quote strikes at the core of the textual dualist/augmented reality conflict found in the Russian empire. Because the reform deliberately perpetuated so many of the social and economic characteristics of serfdom, it may be that the regime was indulging in wishful thinking or placing hopes in the power of words, supposing great benefits must accrue simply because it had found the courage to declare that serfdom, the basic institution of Russian life, was abolished. Even with the advent of a modern, ideologically inspired movement like Bolshevism, textual dualist notions trumping augmented conceptions remained. Consider Trotsky and his desire to achieve Soviet smychka, or collaboration/union, among the peasants and workers through new technologies. In the early 20's he asked, "What will transform the country into a unitary economic and cultural whole?" Or, read another way, what will eliminate asynchronous reality? His answer? significant spending on the post, telegraph, telephone and other technology that would bridge the great space and time of the Soviet Empire. Trotsky's desire to develop enhanced communications networks hints at a recognition that older methods and older protocols simply could not keep up with augmented reality on the ground -yet few regimes so fully embodied textual dualism like the Bolshevik and later Soviet governments, with the five year plans, Stakhanovism, and 'Dizzy with Success' campaigns that marked the Soviet period. In conclusion, while I have scratched the surface here on an empirical potential for examining implementation of dualist configurations and the augmented realities that challenge them, I want to stress that even in an era where digital networks did not exist one can find many examples worthy of deeper examination when investigating the development of dualist discourses among an

augmented reality. While the digital dualist conflicts of today are unique in their approach, they nonetheless draw upon a storied history that places the dualist/augmented understanding of reality amidst a broader scope of human experience.