Jane Kitaevich

History that Splinters: A Study of Variation in Collective Memory Narratives in the Republic of

Georgia

Prepared for the Post-communist Politics and Economics Workshop

April 8, 2013

Work-in-progress; please do not circulate

Note to the readers:

Dear Workshop participants,

Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this paper-in-the-making. I very much look forward to your

comments—all comments, of both methodological and theoretical nature are welcome. I would, however, ask you to

pay particular attention to the following questions:

1) Please note: this project is still in its early stages, and the draft is anything but finalized—in fact, some of the sections

are still missing. This draft is based on the pilot project I have conducted in late 2012-eary 2013. The observations

included here are valuable in their own right, but in order to claim they are representative of popular views across

the nation, I will have to continue my fieldwork in the summer to expand my data pool ( my hunch, however, is that my

future observations will not be much different from the data I have already gathered).

2) What is in the paper and what is not there: the larger chunk of the paper tries to setup my theoretical framework,

describe in general terms my case study, methodology, and locate my argument within the existing literature on the

topic (the nature of the subject is somewhat interdisciplinary, and so are the sources in my literature review, which

mostly cites works in political science and sociology, but one can also find an occasional reference to anthropology

and comparative education literature.) Given the time constraints, the paper is lacking in the adequate development

and discussion of the empirical findings. My write-up of the empirical findings is a work-in-progress, as such, I am

still missing 2 sections out of 3—the most important and lengthy section, however, is there (I do, however, provide a

brief overview of each of the missing sections.) The teachers discourse section currently includes the analysis of 3 out

of 4 general discourses but it should give you a good sense of how this section as a whole dovetails nicely with one of

my arguments. I analyze the findings in the same section where I present the findings, but I will have one more section

(eventually) where I’ll do a formal discussion of the findings and explicitly connect them to my arguments.

3) Comments/feedback: I am still working on the methodology part (especially, processing and systematically analyzing

the data) and I’ll very much appreciate any suggestions related to these questions (especially, advice for good

software packages to work with this type of qualitative data.) Literature suggestions for further reading are always

welcome. I would also hope to write (eventually) a second part of this project that would offer an explanation for how

different transitional countries manage these splintered memories differently. This would be a comparative project

and my preliminary thoughts are outlined at the end of this draft—any thoughts on this subject would be much

appreciated. Comments on if the first part of the project sounds too repetitive/what can be cut would be great as well!

Please do not feel limited to commenting only on these 4 issues—I’ll be most glad to receive any feedback you might

have for me! Thank you again for reading!

P.S. I’ll compile my full list of bibliography and referred works by tomorrow, if anyone would be interested in

skimming it.

“I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!”

― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Instead of Introduction

During the early years of the Soviet Union, the Communist party, in a remarkable feat of

skillful propaganda, astute politicking, and timely opportunism, created a story of the history of

mankind and a united vision for the bright future that resonated with myriad of private stories from

the snowy slopes of Elbrus to the sunny steppes of Central Asia. Suddenly, as the lyrics of one

popular Soviet song described it, the peoples of disparate nations became “united by a joint will…

for a common fight for happiness… into a family of nations.1” With “unity [being] a great thing and

a great slogan2”, all private aspects of human activity—including individual memories, visions, and

narratives—were expected to yield to the supreme mission of the centralizing Soviet regime. The

resounding and unexpected collapse of the Soviet juggernaut left behind economies in shambles,

crumbled political systems, and people, bereft of the centralized system of meaning, confused and

often incapable of making sense of the contradicting legacies of Communism, those stubbornly

lingering ghosts of the past—the memories of the bygone era.

Fifteen newly emerged states, the hapless heirs to the Communist regime thus faced the

unwieldy tasks of state-building and nation-building, with little or no experiences of independence

—all, while also trying to find legitimacy in the eyes of international actors, as well as their own

impatient mobs of constituents in the streets. The already difficult task of razing the now-obsolete

institutions and building the new ones from scratch was further confounded by the fact that the new

1 Giorgi Abramov “Song of Unity.”2 Collected Works of Vladimir Lenin. Vol. 25:79.

states inherited populations divided along multiple lines of ethnicity, language, territory, social

capital, ideology, memories, and most importantly, diverging visions and understandings of

statehood. Previously invisible due to the overwhelming dominance of the Soviet master narrative,

multiple clashing conceptualizations of state and its history came to the fore of identity politics,

demanding their place under the sun. Bizarrely, with the Soviet Union already gone, its

“deconstruction…[still] remain[ed] an ongoing and potentially endless process…where cultural

identities were inherently contested” (Beissinger), hindering new, often weak states from

implementing their agendas and fulfilling their basic responsibilities, such as providing security and

maintaining territorial integrity, collecting taxes, etc. Realizing that being an “incomplete nation” is

“perhaps the most important threat” to the prospects of economic and political stability (Crawford,

Liphart), the majority of state leaders turned to a formidable social glue—collective memory—“a

navel” that ties the otherwise disconnected individuals and “without [which] the subjective element

of being part of a nation would be absent” (Smith, 84). Thus, as states embarked on an uneasy

journey to legitimize their existence internationally, while also fostering a unique national image

domestically by forming distinct civic and ethnic parlances, they invariably turned to their historical

past to explain and often mold the national present (Friedman).

The choice to revisit national history in an attempt to produce a master narrative can be

understood in light of several reasons: 1) desire to “regain self-esteem by re-claiming the right to

[write their own] national historiography…without the assistance of the elder brother” after 70

years of subordinating national histories to fit the Communist paradigm (Kuzio, 2002) 2)

commanding loyalty from their citizens through evoking a unifying narrative3(Gellner, 83; Smith,

3 The importance of shared memory for national cohesion has been contested by classical Western political theorists who argue that the relationship between state and society is that of a purely utilitarian and contractual nature, where the presence of unifying memory narrative is unnecessary for commanding loyalty. The alternative approach, described in works by such scholars as Durheim and Tocqueille emphasizes that state-society relationships also encompass a non-contractual, “pre-modern” and “pre-market” foundation. The latter approach is more useful for the analysis of the post-Soviet space given the historical particularities of the relationship between the Soviet Union and

86; Anderson, 91, Hobsbawm, 83) 3) soliciting legitimacy from the international community, often

by establishing historical continuity pointing at the periods of history of statehood of the proto-state

to which the modern state is a direct heir 4) using the past as a blueprint for establishing a new legal

and institutional basis (in some instances, the states would even fully restore historical institutions

—as was the case of Poland and Georgia4). This multifaceted utility of a common historical

narrative unsurprisingly resulted in national fascination with the days of yore and mass-scale

attempts to rewrite history to reflect the new social order, to shape a new state identity “by

anchoring the present in a viable past” (Friedman). The proliferation of these nation-building

projects sparked greater interest among the scholars of the region in memory studies, producing

different strands of scholarship: some scholars addressed the role of memorials (Forest 2002) and

political institutions and norms (Trenin 2011; Pain, 2009) in propagating a particular view of a

nation and its history. Others focused on the processes that aided the states in “creating”

compelling narratives of the modern nation-state to command the loyalty of its citizens. A particular

attention was given to the changes in formal education as a primary vehicle for disseminating the

new historical vision, often articulated in the process of (re-) writing history textbooks(Kuzio, 2002;

Zajda, 2003; Janmaat, 2007; Wetsch,1999, Mendelson 2005, 2006; Nikolayenko, 2008.)

its citizens, where the raison d’etre was the belief in common destiny, history, and mission and where it was implicit that nations ought to have unique histories (the residue of the Stalinist nationality policies). In light of these historical legacies, it is sensible to assume that immediately following the collapse of the regime, both the leaders and the people were still used to the notion of nationhood that could be defined not only by a common territory, economy, and law, but also the requirement of “shared memories…without them, the subjective element, the sense of being part of a nation would be absent” (Smith, 1984). 4 Both Poland and Georgia are good examples of states turning to history for state-building lessons: Georgia dismissed the Soviet-era constitution and adopted a historical constitution of 1921 (the text was left largely intact until the amendments of 2004 and 2010), while Poland reenacted those governing bodies, such as the Senate, that were abolished during the Communist period. The preamble to the Polish constitution reflects well the post-Soviet/Communist states obsession with history during the early stages of their statehood: "Recalling the best traditions of the First and the Second Republic, Obliged to bequeath to future generations all that is valuable from our over one thousand years' heritage”

These fine additions to social science literature have greatly enhanced our understanding of the

critical processes that shaped and continue to shape the post-Soviet developments. Yet, while the

academic interest in collective memory’s role in both nation-building and state-building processes is

sustained, two important questions remain unanswered. I now turn to the two main arguments of this

work by contextualizing them within the existing theoretical debates on collective memory. Each

argument will be dealt with separately. I will then provide the overview of the case study of memory

politics in the republic of Georgia and explain why it is an interesting example for substantiating my

arguments. After briefly reviewing the methodology applied during my recent pilot project in

Georgia, I will present the findings—conceptually structuring them into three main collective

memory discourses—those of the state, school teachers (a discourse that itself branches off into

several sub-narratives, often along the generational cleavages), and students. My empirical findings

will be followed by a concluding discussion and suggestions for future research.

Studying Collective Memory Narratives: Understanding the Agency

Despite the wide recognition of the salience of collective memory narrative formation for

understanding the dynamics of nation-building, much of the research on collective memory has been

strongly influenced by the academic penchant to imagine the collective memory discourse as largely

hegemonic and content-wise orthodox. Formation of (national) identities occupies an important

niche in such areas of research in comparative politics as the literature on social movements, identity

politics, and institution-building. The main debate over identity is not over whether identity matters

(a question more relevant to the IR domain) but whether it is inherited /primordial or constructed and

how it becomes institutionalized (Laitin; Sikkink and Finnemore, 2001). The research agenda, thus,

perhaps rather inadvertently is shaped by the question of how does identity (such as for instance,

national/historical identity that is articulated in a shared collective memory narrative5) become

institutionalized and formed into a power structure, a mechanism of coercion in the service of a state

as the main custodian of this power (Gur-Zeeb, 2003, Neal 2005, Baumel 1997, Beblawi, Luciani

1987). Unsurprisingly, this interest in institutionalization and consolidation of historical identities

has put a disproportionate emphasis on the study of the state as the main and often the only actor that

has the power to define its historical identities (as expressed through state-generated collective

memory narrative) through the means of state-created social institutions, such as schools, that

support social cohesion. Consequently, much of the research on identity-building and collective

memory narratives in the post-Communist space focused on the study of legislation on historical

memories, public memorials, and history textbooks (Shevel, 2003; Forrest, 2002; Schessler, 1987;

Mehlinger, 1985; Porat, 2001).

While this approach sheds much light onto the process of identity formation and memory

politics, I identify two critiques of such treatment of the subject. First, the focus on the

institutionalization of state’s historical identity is outcome-oriented, i.e. consolidation and

homogenization of the discourse through the means of state-implemented policies, thus making it a

teleological argument. Second, and related to the first argument, is the criticism that according to

this approach a state is treated as the main source of preference formation for a particular collective

memory narrative. While both of these qualities (outcome-driven and state-as-the main-agent

assumptions) have advantages of parsimony and generalizability, they come at a price of

reductionism.

The first proposition obscures the fact that it is unhelpful to think of historical identity (as well

5 In the discussion of my arguments and throughout the rest of the paper I refer to historical identity (i.e. the nation’s view of its identity in time/history and space) and collective memory narratives interchangeably. While semantically the two are different, Anthony Smith argued that “no memory—no identity; no identity—no nation,” thus implying a conceptual closeness between the two terms, since collective memory discourse is an articulation of the nation’s historical identity.

as other forms of identities) in terms of any (even short-term) permanency (which the assumption of

consolidation through institutionalization implies). As Ted Hopf aptly put it in his Promise of

Constructivism in International Relations , actors are rarely confined to the shackles of one

particular identity; instead, even a single actor (such as a state) may wear multiple “identity” hats.

Others, such as Alexander Wendt, echoed this concern by arguing that even individual states may

have multiple identities that are in constant fluctuation—some are dormant, others active, and

others evolving (1999).67 Laitin, too, acknowledges that identity is normally inherently fluid

—“there is fluid competition between them [i.e.] identities,” where neither primordial ethnic

identities, nor the culturally and contingently constructed ones prevail.8 Finally, Daniel, Heinlein,

and Lars also questioned the validity of viewing identity (in particular, historical identity) as a

firmly institutionalized/consolidated concept in their study of European identity; instead, they

postulated that the national collective memory narrative is fluid (reflexive particularism) because of

its malleable nature and interaction with the international structure (cosmopolitanization).9 In sum,

as the above authors suggest, collective memory/historical identity formation is “a non-linear,

dialectical process in which the universal and particular, the similar and the dissimilar… are

interconnected,” suggesting that what matters, given the transformative quality of historical

identity, study of historical identity is not the end/teleology, but the process of changing itself.

6 In part because consolidation of identities is such a challenging concept, Wendt suggests to look at an identity of a state actor not through one, but many prisms (type identities and role identities) and focus on how these identities interact, constitute each other, and react to the constant changes in the international structure. Importantly, the emphasis is NOT on consolidation of identities, but their process of becoming. Alexander Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 231.7 Both Hopf and Wendt discuss identities within an international framework, focusing on states as the main actors, but their ontological view of identity is inherently fluid could be applied to other levels of identity (i.e. on a sub-state level8 Laitin, David. Identity in Formation: The Russian-Speaking Populations in the New Abroad. Cornell University Press, Ithaca, 1998. 9 Levy, Daniel, Michael Heinlein, Breuer, Lars. Reflexive particularism and comspolitanization: the reconfiguration of the national. Global Networks, 11:2, 2011.

My second criticism of the question of agency in the literature on collective memory

narrative/historical identity formation is the disproportionate emphasis made on the study of state as

the main and often the only actor that has the power to define its historical identities. Critical

constructivists link formation of ideas and identities to “certain powerful groups [who] play a

privileged role in the process of social construction” ( Weldes, 1999; Price, 1998).10 This

proposition that is too often accepted without due scrutiny, obscures the fact that collective memory

processes often fail to achieve such monolithic form, since the space for history-making is an arena

with multiple actors, where chaos—not order—especially, at the time of transition, is the modus

operandi. The alternative Habermasian view, while assuming that the power to construct can be

vested with a recognizable personal agency, acknowledges that preference formation is more

dispersed than argued by critical constructivists.11 I believe this debate stems from the challenge of

defining collective memory as a social fact and a misinterpretation of collective memory as a

unifying and uniform concept. Maurice Halbwachs distinguishes an autobiographic/individual and

social/collective memory discourses, but he, too, agrees that these two categories hardly exist

autonomously; instead, “collective memory is social in origin and influenced not only by dominant

discourses, but also the faculty of individual minds” (Misztal, 2005). This definition brings into

question an assertion that a state is the only power-wielding agency capable of constructing

uncontested interpretations of history, suggesting instead that problematizing collective memory as

a more pluralistic and mutually constitutive process, with multiple loci of collective memory

production would result in a more nuanced and realistic research agenda. Admittedly, such an

approach would entail much onerous fieldwork of various collective discourses, yet, only by

10 Qtd. In Finnemore, Martha and Sikkink, Kathryn. Taking Stock: The Constructivist Research Program in International Relations and Comparative Politics. Annual Political Review, 2001.11 This approach is somewhat similar to Foucault’s argument about the dispersion of power “power is everywhere’, diffused and embodied in discourse,” which I believe is especially applicable when discussing the formation of historical identities—a process that is inherently fluid and pluralistic.

problematizing the taken-for-granted socialization processes and calling for an energetic synthesis

and interaction between different types of historical identities, different loci for preference

formation we can bring something new to the table.

Identifying the foci of collective memory production within a state is a challenging enterprise

given the infinitesimal possibility of identifying idiosyncratic discourses that are reflective of

multiple political, economic, social, and cultural cleavages. For the purposes of establishing a

research agenda that is both feasible and capable of providing a fairly nuanced and comprehensive

treatment of such an abstruse topic, without getting mired in excessive reductionism, I consider a

model discussed in “Reflexive particularism and comspolitanization: the reconfiguration of the

national” that suggests an alternative way of operationalizing the sources of collective memory

formation by introducing three categories: official forms of memory (represented by the state-

centered discourses, such as parliamentary debates or legislative procedures, as well as official

commemorative events, monuments, memorial days, foundations), public forms of memory (such

as those narratives that are represented in the media, and that do and do not have to resemble the

government discourse), and vernacular forms of memory that entail conceptualization of national

memory on the grassroots level. This model addresses the question of agency for narrative

formation discussed earlier by identifying several main “factories” of narrative production;

however, to make the model more attuned to the Soviet reality, I introduce several modifications to

the model by excluding the media variable (which, in the context of the former Soviet states is

either a mouthpiece for the parties at power, or reflective of the debates within the society itself,

subsequently prompting me to choose to focus on the state and “vernacular” narratives alone.) I

choose the education sphere, schools in particulars, as the ultimate space12 where the different

12 It is important to underscore that the term “space” that I use is very different from the famous term “lieux de memoire” (the realms/spaces of memory) coined by Pierre Nora. Nora is referring to material and non-material objects (e.g. museums, architecture, commemorations) that are fixed in time and form, even if they can and often are

societal views on history and statehood are played out. The important addition to the model is the

distinction I make in identifying the different loci of vernacular collective memories based on the

generational factor, to account for the difference in history education paradigm during and after the

Soviet Union, which, I conjecture leaves a “generational imprinting” (Schuman, 2002) on the

societal perceptions of statehood and its place in history and the world. Literature on collective

memories and educational experiences suggests that it is specifically historical events and political

regimes experienced during the early stages of an individual’s development (specifically, as argued

by Schuman, the early adolescence through the early 20s period) that form “the existential fabric of

our being in the world” and leaves an indelible impression on memory (Davis, 1979). It is the

legacies of these collective memories that continue to inform the visions of statehood of the

members of polity, who continue to respond to these memories (by opposing, agreeing, or

constructing a middle-ground response) in the course of their lifetimes. I find this approach to be

especially productive in the study of those societies that have experienced significant shifts in their

political outlooks within a fairly short period of time (of which the post-Communist space is a

perfect example) and where fluctuations and splintering of institutions, opinions, and norms is a

rule, rather than an exception. The next section provides a brief introduction to the selected case

study, as well as the reasons for the case selection and the added value it presents for the study of

other post-Soviet states (and by extension, the countries outside of the post-Soviet space.)

Georgia on My Mind: A Story of a Post-Soviet Crusade

The collapse of the Soviet Union put the Georgian state in front of an unexpected windfall in

the form of independence. The sudden acquisition of independence, however, has opened a

interpreted by various actors. My understanding of the space is more dynamic in that its focus is not on a space itself, but the constantly changing discourses that inhabit it. In that sense, while Nora’s definition is more static and crystallized in time and space, mine is more fluid, in line with my first argument on the general fluidity of historical identities.

Pandora’s box, as the important question emerged: now that the rigid but at least predictable Soviet

framework has disappeared, what should come in its stead? How should Georgia understand its

historical trajectory, its own role in history, and how should it teach about history a new generation

of homos post-soveticus? The unraveling chaos of the civil war and two bloody conflicts with the

autonomous republics of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, however, showed that the present was more

important than the past, thus pushing the question of history to the backburner. In the meantime,

the first state- and nation-building blocks were put into place, and whilst the issue of history was

not addressed through formal mechanisms, Zviadist sentiments, tinted with a clear messianic spirit,

talked of Georgia’s special mission in history, where “the Georgian nation’s [mission in] this world

[is] to be the beacons of truth, to be the champions of justice and sincerity, to believe in Christ, so

that his name would shine among the nations of the world, so that [Georgians] would become the

defenders of justice.”13

The frenzy of the ethno-nationalist rhetoric and the emphasis on Georgia’s autochthonous roots

has abated with the Shevardnadze government coming to power, but the question of re-

conceptualizing history became prominent again and was soon reflected in the adaptation of the

1997 Educational Standard document. The Standard clearly linked the history curriculum as the tool

for state-building and re-constructing the national identity. Ironically, the law justified the creation

of collective memory narrative through the means of education to suit the needs of the state by

drawing a parallel to the Soviet period, where history was also used “as a tool for the justification of

the Soviet regime.” The new state continued to view history as a tool to validate itself as a

legitimate actor in the eyes of the international community, as well as garner support in favor of 13 Zviad Gamsakhurdia: Speech delivered on May 26 1990. Published in: Theatrical News, 1990, #3. I have examined the question of Georgia’s conception of its history of statehood during the early stages of independence elsewhere, while I was doing an extensive review, compilation, and translation of speeches by the first leaders of independent Georgia last summer during my archival research in Tbilisi. Within the framework of this research, however, I will offer just a light treatment of the historical narrative formation during that time period solely for the sake of contextualizing my topic.

Georgia’s political goal at the time. “For present-day Georgia only such model of historical

education is relevant which corresponds to the perspectives of complete democratization of the

country…to create a history teaching conception which would meet international, namely Western

standards.” The interest in nation-building and the general weakness of the state apparatus,

however, resulted in the ethno-nationalistic sentiments of the Zviadist period continuing to linger in

the official state curriculum: the focus stayed with the national history that emphasized the

uniqueness of the Georgian state, its autochthonous origins and the glorious past, and the relentless

struggle for freedom and independence (Standard 1997: 16-38).

This digression was necessary to contextualize the series of events that led to the period of

2003-2012 that will be used as the main testing ground for this project. The 2003 brought a change

in the regime following a wave of protests—in response to the fraud in the parliamentary elections

results-- that became popularly known as the “Rose Revolution”. The new leadership, similar to its

predecessors, made the question of national history and collective memory narrative formation a

clear priority in its agenda. The educational sphere became the primary venue for enacting the new

approach toward history, captured in the Education Law of 2005 and described as a shift toward

establishing a multi-perspective approach toward history and Georgian statehood, to reflect the

“multiethnic character of the Georgian nation (a buzzword that came to define much of the

policymaking during Saakashvili’s term), and strengthen the civil consciousness by developing

critical thinking skills. Unlike the previous government, Saakashvili’s team had more resources

available and it committed itself to creating a unifying approach toward understanding history and

Georgia’s statehood by adopting a unified educational curriculum plan—an unprecedented act in

the period of Georgia’s short independence. It is this experiment that I use to test my thinking. I

argue that both of my arguments outlined earlier in the paper—the epistemological imperative of

treating collective memory formation as a process, rather than an outcome, and the preference of

splitting the agency from a state to multiple loci for collective memory production, conditioned by

generational cleavages—holds better in explaining what happened in Georgia’s collective history

formation, as reflected in the educational realm, than a traditional state-driven, institutional

approach. The fluidity of the discourse is demonstrated on the example of the inconsistency and

fluidity of the state discourse (despite its unwavering commitment to create a national approach to

collective history), while the splintering of narratives formation into multiple loci of production is

reflected in often clashing narratives of the teachers (dividing across the generational lines) against

the state narrative.

The project is singular in many respects: on a theoretical level, almost all attempts to study the

memory politics in various countries tended to approach memory formation by prioritizing only one

space of memory production—usually dominated by the state as the main agent. I hope that my

project would offer a more nuanced study of a particular country in question, as well as the

conceptualization of the study of the memory politics in general. 14 The selected case study is a

good starting point, as the majority of other post-Soviet states (as well as other states undergoing

significant political transitions) followed a very similar pattern and sequence of collective memory

narrative formation. More importantly, the project sets a valuable springboard for answering a

subsequent logical question: why some nation-states were successful in creating a compelling

overarching discourse despite the gap between the splintering historical interpretations during the

time of political and economic transition, while others were not—a question that is difficult to

14 In order to determine whether the “multifaceted” approach used in this project has been used before, my literature review included the examination of works related to collective memory formation in the following countries: Yemen, Syria, France, Austria, Germany, Poland, Russia, Estonia, Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, Turkey, Moldova, Israel, USA, and Georgia. In the course of my review, I have encountered only one other work (by E. Andersen on the educational reforms in Moldova) that came close to my research design (even in this case, however, the study was limited to the discussion of textbooks/state policies and teacher’s reaction, but not including the student narratives).

answer without being able to understand the nature of individual actors and their dynamics that the

approach adopted here allows to explore (a question I hope to undertake in the second part of this

project, after expanding my data pool and conducting a comparative fieldwork in the summer.)

Quick Note on Methodology (subject to change; contingent on whether I’ll learn more

sophisticated mechanisms to review my data—suggestions are most welcome)

Please Note: I have not yet had the chance to quantify my empirical findings (at the bare

minimum I’d hope to present the statistics of the content analysis results in a visual form.

In an attempt to identify the difference in state and local narratives I have conducted a pilot study

in Georgia during the four weeks in December and January. Unlike the previous works in the field of

memory studies, in this article I seek to fill this gap though qualitative inquiry that goes beyond the

more limiting analysis of textbooks only, as the content of the prescribed and the implemented history

curriculum may or may not reflect how various citizens perceive themselves and their society and how

do teachers interpret and control these materials in classrooms. For the analysis of the state discourse, I

have reviewed 9 textbooks covering the grades 5-11 (I managed to acquire 2 different publications for

the 8th and 5th grade textbooks that allowed me to verify whether the discourse reflecting the national

curriculum goals stayed consistent regardless of the publication.) To supplement my state discourse I

have also examined the Ministry of Education’s Manual for the Unified Curriculum after the Rose

Revolution, 100+ speeches of president Saakashvili’s articulations on his view of history, informal

interviews with the directors of 2 educational resource centers, and 3 individuals associated with the

Ministry of Education’s division on the design of history curriculum. In addition, I reviewed several

works by local scholars on other forms of public narratives ( Nara’s lieux de memoire), such as public

commemorations, memorials, and museums to gauge whether government’s discourse was consistent

across all these spaces, or whether there was notable fluidity (any suggestions on how I could quantify

fluidity here?).

To study the societal views, I conducted 14 structured and unstructured interviews with the teachers

in Russian and Georgian, discussing their views on the changes in history education and their approach

toward teaching history. I myself have recorded and transcribed all the interviews, each of which lasted

1-5 hours. I succeeded in recruiting a fairly diverse pool of respondents, with various levels of education

(all have completed their degree in history, with 10 having had completed the undergraduate degree,

while 4 have received advanced degrees), ethnic backgrounds (13 were ethnic Georgians, and one

Armenian), different gender perspectives (12 females and 2 males, but this ratio should be understood

within a context where history teaching is overwhelmingly dominated by females), current professional

positions (4 currently teach in private schools, 10 in public schools)and generations. Five were

interviewed individually, while the rest were interviewed as focus groups in a school setting, which was

especially helpful for observing the inter-generational dynamics to determine if there was indeed a

difference in views on history and Georgia’s role in the world. The selection process of the teachers was

fairly random; after several first interviews I used a snowballing technique to select other interviewees.

To capture genuine and multiple perspectives I avoided explicit questions about national identities in

order not to influence my respondents’ views; instead, the emphasis was made on individual

understandings of history and history education. In the future I intend to compile a macro-level code

table, for which each code (e.g. purpose of history) would have several sub-codes to codify the relevant

rhetoric.

I have also conducted a survey of 50 students, coming from different backgrounds, and attending

different schools ( 4 attended private schools, 20—a semi-private school known for its fairly high

standards of education, and 26—regular public schools, although the quality of education in these

schools also varied) The participants of my survey were mostly average and above-average students,

with an occasional outlier (e.g. a winner of the local “erudition contest). The goal of the survey was

two-fold: 1) to verify whether the teachers’ accounts of their teaching actually corresponded to their

actual performance in the classroom 2) to gauge the views of the generation born not only after the

Soviet collapse, but also not having firsthand memories of the civil war and territorial conflicts (as of

2013, the oldest schoolchildren were born in 1996, when the ceasefire was already signed and hostilities

quelled). The majority of the questions in the survey (~ 75-80%) were open-ended to allow for an

unhindered expression of one’s views.

Limitations of the design: While the findings of the pilot study are valuable, to achieve a sample that

is statistically more robust and representative of the views of the rest of the population, I need to

increase my pool of respondents, which is possible only by conducting a second round of fieldwork in

the region. I hope, however, to address this shortcoming by increasing the number of respondents 15 in

my focus groups during my next trip to Georgia in late May and early June, before the start of the local

summer recess.

Empirical findings and Discussion (incomplete)

Section on State Discourse

Here I’ll talk about the fluidity in the state narrative by outlining the contradictions in the official

discourse—a jargon evincing Western-identity markers and reflected in the national history curriculum

that argued for a scientific, civic-minded, and multi-perspective view of the Georgian history. I will show

through my analysis of both textbooks, president’s speeches, and 2 acts of public commemoration that

the official collective memory narrative was often in odds with state policies. I will also mention 2 acts

15 My goal is to increase the number of respondents in 3 main focus groups in the following manner: teachers—from the current number of respondents (14) to 32, Ministry of Education employees/curriculum developers—from 3 to 9, students—from n=50 to n=200 ( the students respond to my survey questions in a written form, thus allowing me to distribute surveys to several individuals (usually, 5) at a time.

of public commemoration where both of the mutually contradicting and undermining narratives

coexisted, and while the government considered it problematic, they did not resolve this inconsistency.

Splintered Narratives on the Ground: Analysis of Schoolteachers’ Narratives

After discussing the official state articulation of the history narrative, it is expedient to examine how

did these views, reflected in the new educational structure, “fare when, emerging from the world of the

[normative] they seek to enter that of reality.”16 I’ll show below how the teachers’ discourses contested

the state power of being the only loci of collective memory production through producing their own

discourses, reflective, as I argue of the generational cleavages. My interviews suggest 4 distinct history

narratives,17 dependent on the period of history when the history educators themselves were educated.

Each of these narratives present a somewhat different view of the Georgian history—especially, in

respect to their divergent understandings of the Soviet past, the short-lived independence period (1918-

1921), and their attitude toward history in general. Despite these differences, each of the four narratives,

in line with my argument on the multiple loci of narrative formation, contest the dominance and the

validity of the state-generated narrative in one way or another. The 4 generations of educators

representing alternative loci of collective memory production are: 1) teachers who received their

education in the Soviet Union before the upsurge of the dissident activities, i.e. early 80s— the

culturalists 2) teachers whose formative educational experience coincided with the visible decay of the

Soviet Union and growing nationalism and protest of the 80s—the hybrids 3) teachers who were

educated in Soviet schools in the 80s, but whose period of higher education coincided with the collapse

of the Soviet regime, and the ensuing chaos of the early 90s—the iconoclasts 4) the youngest generation

16 Durkheim, Educational Thought, 227.17 There is a tendency in social sciences to divide narratives, ideas, etc, in clear-cut categories; to a degree, such an approach simplifies the reality on the ground, for the sake of proving a researcher’s argument. To avoid this common pitfall, I do not deny that some views and ideas in each of the 4 narratives I identify can and do bear resemblance to other narratives; what explains my decision to suggest the 4 different loci of collective memory formation, is that each generational narrative has at least one element that is more pronounced in the narrative of one particular generation

of teachers, the children of Perestroika —the first generation educated in independent Georgia.

Soviet culturalists

Soviet culturalists, as the name itself suggests, are those individuals who were born in the late after-War

period, experienced the mild openness of the Khrushev regime, and took advantage of the various social

benefits and welfare the Soviet state had to offer to its citizens before deficiency of the economic

system’s became obvious in the 80s. Three of my respondents belonged to this category and much of

their rhetoric was reflective of the views that prevailed during their formative years. Their attitudes

towards the Soviet regime and Georgia’s experience during that time were mostly benign, albeit not

entirely uncritical. One respondent E. stressed how she told her students about “the different positive

aspects of the Soviet life, such as social and economic stability and certainty about the future,”

contrasting it with the current situation “when you can never know if you’ll be able to buy a piece of

bread tomorrow.” Respondent F. viewed positively the early Soviet years because it “was the Georgian

man, Stalin, who was in charge of the colossal Soviet apparatus.” This Georgian was a great reformer,

who brought enlightenment to neighboring nations, especially Russia “whose backwardness Stalin

arrested, just like Peter the Great did several centuries earlier. Peter established the state, washed and

shaved its people, while Stalin turned it into a “sun-state.” Respondent E. agreed that Stalin’s figure was

“pivotal in helping Russians progress…too bad people never value the great people of their own

generation.” The culturalists thus seemed comfortable talking about the Soviet period with their students.

Their understandings of the Georgian history reminded of the Soviet historiography of national histories,

where the emphasis was made on the discovery of the historical roots of each nation. Indeed, each of the

Soviet culturalists made constant references to Georgia’s autochthonous origins and the ancient Colchide

as the Georgian proto-state. Respondent E. mentioned: “I always make sure that if children were to take

one main thing out of history, it would be we that are the most ancient civilization, and the nation of

Colchide [i.e. the proto-Georgians] knew what even ancient Greeks did not know.” Respondent R.

echoed the importance of the proto-Georgian phenomenon for understanding Georgia’s role today: “We

should always remember we are the most ancient civilization.”

In addition to the emphasis on the national roots, Soviet culturalists stressed another important

element of the Soviet education—the role of history education in introducing society to world cultures

and arts. Respondent N. criticized the state history curriculum for not including enough material on

literature and arts: “Take a look at the 8 th grade textbook—all it talks about is wars, wars, wars. There is

no culture, no socio-economic discussion. How can these children be well-versed?! If I were a president,

I would offer an entire history course of world cultures. ” Cullturalists thus stress both the primordial

roots of the state, and the Soviet “internationalist” view of the importance of learning about world

cultures.

The method of delivering this narrative to their students is also strongly reminiscent of the Soviet

one. In N.’s words “there is not enough narrative in these books and too many primary sources…I think

this approach leads to too much participation among the students, and the teacher becomes only an

observer.” She added in a disapproving tone: “all this activity leads to quarreling, raised voices,

occasionally even fighting. Back in the day children learned the material (facts and dates) by heart and

today they cannot remember even the most important dates. What is history without dates and facts? Of

course, with this method you don’t impose any views on the student, but the only thing they take out of

this history class is the experience of being an active participant. But what do they know at this age to

participate intelligently? This method kills so much time!” The culturalists, then, in a typical Soviet way

argued that there “can be only one true history,” and since there is only one correct narrative, there is no

value in student participation, especially if their opinion will be different from the “true history.” As F.

said, “ history should be true and just. If we distort history, our psyche will remain forever damaged.”

Since there is only “true history” and history teachers are the primary custodians of it, the state’s

attempt to cultivate more engaged citizens by introducing discussion as one of the elements in the

textbooks and the history curriculum were perceived by the teachers as an act threatening to undermine

their power in the classroom, and provoking opposition from the culturalists. Yet, even this opposition

was veiled in the style of the traditional Soviet opposition to authorities. In the Soviet times history was

viewed as another form of politics and disobeying the authorities by craftily sabotaging the state ideology

in the classroom was perceived as an act of bravado and an indicator of one’s professionalism (the

assumption was that if one is an exceptional professional in the field, even an anti-Soviet act would

ignored by the authorities.) Both of these Soviet traditions of disobeying the state are illustrated with the

following statements: “History is politics, nothing more than that. The state has always tried to impose its

own version of history. But we managed to teach things freely to our students about the true history even

during communists!” Another interviewee made a similar statement: “All these textbooks and

approaches are the whims of our president. It has always been this way, and I have always managed to

disobey. My colleagues even called me a “free-thinker” (вольнодумная), but I know they have admired

me for it.” Sabotaging any state narrative was thus viewed as a professional necessity, a form of

tradition of sorts.

Hybrids

The hybrids, represented by 3 of my respondents, too, were the products of the Soviet historiography.

Similar to culturalists they continue to view history formation as a battle between the teacher and the

state, where it is the teacher’s obligation to resist. As M. jokingly remarked:

The textbook reflects the political climate in the country. When we were in Russia’s hands,

the emphasis was made on Russia; now children need to know everything about America. In

Georgia, history is politics. Textbooks change when the president wakes up one day and

realizes that it must be difficult for his son to learn his history textbook. This is the country

where history is decided by the president. But I don’t care; there are issues that I consider

fundamental for a child to know about the history of his/her country—I have been teaching

for almost 25 years, and I won’t change my teaching because of any of these changes. So,

yes, we are kind of doing things illegally (chuckles as she says it), just like during the days of

the Soviet Union.”

L. echoed this sentiment: “ We always had to listen whatever the government said and what are their

political goals with history. But we always resisted, even during the communists.”

While resistance to the state as the main loci of historical narrative formation resembled those of the

culturalists, the hybrids’ understanding of Georgia’s history and its role in the world was quite different

from the older generation of educators. Unlike the culturalists, hybrids—a generation of university

students and young professionals during the rise of dissidence in Georgia in the 80s and the growing

popularity of the first president of Georgia, Zviad Gamsakhurdia, a dissident writer and a staunch believer

in Georgia’s messianic mission—were much more critical of the culturalists interest in world culture and

arts. This greater emphasis on the national history is reflected in L.’s impassioned remark: “The [current

state’s] approach to history does not want us to talk about our love for the country. This obsession with

globalization erases our own history, as if we are nothing and other countries are everything. Do you think

the battle of Didgori was any less important than the French Revolution? Nobody will shut me up, and I’ll

continue telling the children about the most important thing they should learn from history—the history of

our motherland.”18 M. was less critical of the current educational policy putting a stronger emphasis on

18 A very similar anti-Western approach can be observed Zviad Gamsakhurdia’s statements. Compare L.’s statement with the following: “As part of our national agenda, we tried to recreate national identity and instill national pride and knowledge of national history in our people.The West is staunchly against any national movement. The main tenet of their global order is to destroy all nation-states, carry out the genocide against these states’ population, and bring together those who’ll survive under 1 conglomerate.” Interview: Zviad Gamsakhuria—“Animals do not have a nationality.”

Published in: Newspaper Aghdgoma #29, December 6, 1992

world history, but in response to a question on what does she hope her students will take out of her class,

she gave a mystical answer, worthy of the messianic vision of Georgia expressed in the works of Z.

Gamsakhurdia: “A child should remember that so many civilizations existed and none are here today, but

we are, and this is an accomplishment. If such a small nation like ours produced such great luminaries as

King David and Ilia Chavchavadze19, it means we are worthy of existence. Divine providence is guiding us,

and our nation is destined to produce a third great individual [J.K.: expressed through a metaphor of a

“pillar”) who will change Georgia and the world, just like King David and Ilia.”20 This odd mixture of the

Soviet tradition of resistance to the state and its narrative, as well as a fierce belief in the unique mission of

the Georgian nation was reflected in the M.’s comment on why there is no value in talking much about the

early period of independence that the current government chose to romanticize in its discourse: “ It is a

shameful period. On the one hand, we managed to do in 3 years then what others did in centuries [J.K.: in

line with the national uniqueness discourse], but the problem was that other powers did not want our

independence, and our leaders were not ready to defend it. The nation was more deserving than the

government.” It appears that this somewhat eschatological view of the Georgian history explains M.’s self-

admission that “we like to talk about the times when we were brave and heroes, but when we reach the

more difficult topics, [J.K.: such as the 16th, 17th century disintegration of the country into multiple

fiefdoms/kingdoms]we suddenly become silent and try to rush through this material that is so challenging

for us to grasp.

19 Ilia Chavchavadze—a writer, a lawyer, and a journalist of the 19th century, who is considered to be one of the founding fathers of the modern Georgian state, who spearheaded the national movement and revived the Georgian language. He was canonized by the Georgian Orthodox Church in 1987, the same period that I associate with the hybrids. 20 M.’s response was strikingly similar to the conception of the Georgian history by Zviad Gamsakhurdia. Compare the tone and content of M.’s statement to those of Gamsakhurdia: “Ioane thus says in “Praise and Glory”…that [the Georgian nation] will once again become the spiritual leader and judge of the mankind.” Zviad Gamsakhurdia: Essays and Letters. Praise and Glory of the Georgian LanguageAlso, see “Do you think Georgia has already experienced its golden era or is it still ahead? I hope and believe that the best part is still in the future…The 20th century is the time for national liberation.” Interview 1:Georgia’s President’s,

Zviad Gamsakhurdia’s interview with Mr. Urma Otti from the “TV acquaintance” [satelevizio nacnoboba]. Published in the newspaper “Sakartvelos Redspublika, # 249-50, Dec 21, 1991.

Iconoclasts

Contrary to the much romanticized view of national history and statehood, the collapse of the Soviet

Union, the general ineptness of Gamsakhurdia’s government to maintain peace and order, and the bloody

chaos of the civil war and two conflicts that followed suit seemed to sober up the next generation of

educators. These individuals were born in the 70s and experienced the ideology and the decay of the Soviet

system firsthand. The collapse of the system coincided with their undergraduate studies. Sudden

disappearance of the system and the absence of clarity and certainty even in the academic realm, where, as

E. stated: “ it was not quite clear which history should we learn after the Soviet regime was gone, yet, the

history department entitled “history of the communist parties” was still in place; everything was unclear.”

made these young history students seek for answers. I believe this early transition period was especially

difficult for this generation, as they tried to find their place in society by navigating the system where the

rules of the game were still nebulous, if not non-existent. As the version of history with the accounts about

noble heroes and a special mission for the ever-so-deserving nation did not seem to provide an answer, the

generation of historical iconoclasts started questioning the approach toward history that prevailed during

the previous decades. The answer was found in the cult of personality and the domineering, unaccountable

government. The overarching theme of iconoclasts’ responses to questions about how history should be

studied and what is their understanding of the Georgian history was as follows: “The gist of history, first

and foremost, is battles and individuals21.” In contrast to the narrative of the hybrids and culturalists,

however, who also emphasized certain individuals for other reasons, the iconoclasts tried to avoid

romanticizing these historical figures. E. explained this by pointing at her own experience in Soviet

schools, where she herself was taught (probably by hybrids or culturalists) in “sacral terms” about the

unerring kings and the inadmissibility of any other conception of Georgia except for the powerful and

21 Contrary to culturalists, the iconoclasts viewed the discussion of culture as less important, for “there is so much material to be covered, and while knowing culture is not bad, if I have to cut something out to have more time for the discussion of a certain political figure, it would be culture-related topics.”

united Georgia of the 12th century. She maintained that it was this “absence of logical thinking, emotional

approach, and idealization of historical figures that ultimately left us helpless in the 90s, where all we

could say was ‘woe to us…poor Georgia is stuck in the mud and what can we even do about it.” It appears

that E. and the likes criticized “the emotional view of history” for being one of the factors that brought

about the debacle of the 90s and choosing to look at history through the lens of deconstruction and

reasoning. L. stated: “I highlight the importance of personalities to children, so that they compare their

responses to different situations and form an intelligent judgment. The most important thing in history is

for a child to learn to assess a political figure critically. Everything needs to be analyzed and its reasons

should be understood.”

It comes as no surprise that the history of the Soviet Union came to be perceived by this generation of

educators rather negatively, as an example of the uncritical view of the individual leaders. N. was frank in

her assessment of the Soviet epoch and the manner in which she presents it to the children: “I hate the

Soviet Union. We were completely blinded by that authority, which is why I see as one of my missions to

teach my students to distinguish between the different facets of a leader. There is nothing sacral about an

individual. Even David the Great erred, and the child should see this and understand, so that he would

never succumb to the cult of personality. And when the students tell me that the Soviet regime was a good

period, I show them through reasoned arguing and facts about Stalin why they are wrong.”

Similar skepticism in idealizing political leaders was demonstrated by S. in her assessment of the early

independence period. She claimed that “there was no independence then. It is the myth of the current

government that we were independent; in reality, we were dependent on Russia the entire time. Georgian

Mensheviks and Bolsheviks were the same party. Mensheviks should not be idealized. When

Chavchavadze was killed, [Noe] Jordania22 did not say a word to protest the killing. And then with the

22 Noe Jordania—Georgian journalist and Menshevik leader. After leaving Georgia following the invasion of the Red Army, he continued to lead the government-in-exile until his death.

invasion of the Red Army they just left, and the most embarrassing part was that we were blind enough not

to see that our own Jugashvili and Beria were at the head of it.”

All 4 iconoclast educators in my interviews were resistant to accepting the state discourse. Unlike the

culturalists, they applauded the introduction of civic education to the history curriculum, however, they

were highly skeptical of the textbooks because “state view is always a dogma.” All of the educators

asserted that they use their discretion with the textbooks. The iconoclast category of educators also

conceived of history as a practical mechanism for assessing Georgia’s current system ( the majority of

educators from other generational categories were reluctant to talk , or at least admit if they talk about

modern politics in the class). N. mentioned that “ I ask the children to apply what we learn in civic

education class to analyzing our own regime.” S. was the only respondent from the group of iconoclasts

who scoffed the conversation about modern politics in the classroom, attributing it to the fact that “what

can a child understand about democracy...Either there is a democracy, or there is no democracy.” Even she,

however, insisted that civic education classes are important for students to learn practical concepts that

would make them better citizens—as opposed to “a person who just lives in a city.” Importantly, skeptical

view of the state was obvious not only in the discussions of Georgia, but also the West and Russia –despite

the fact that all iconoclasts seemed to take pride in citing Russian aphorisms, were well acquainted with the

Western approach toward history education, and even occasionally used borrowed Western terms.

Section on Student Discourses

The goal of these section would be to demonstrate how the differences in student narratives, as well as

their knowledge of history and its particular episodes is a good litmus test for reflecting the contradictions

and splintering of the narratives among the teachers and the state

Discussion/Conclusion

Ideas for further research

Once I’ll establish in this paper the complex and contested nature of collective memory formations in the

post-Soviet space as demonstrated with the example of Georgia, the next related question then is what are

the factors that make some nation-states successful in creating compelling overarching discourses despite

the gap between the splintering historical interpretations during the time of political and economic

transition, while others are not? In particular, is there a relationship between the type of political regime,

civil society, and memories? There are widespread assertions that memory is important for democratic

community to achieve its potential, avoid dangers of past crimes, and secure its continuation, while the

counter-arguments are that memory presents a threat to democratic community because it can undermine

cohesion, increase the costs of cooperation, and cause moral damage to civil society. (Adorno, Hobsbawm,

Rawls, Weschler, Wedeen, Heller, Marcus, Lagunas, Aguilar, etc.). My hypothesis is that what matters for

democracy and what makes a state more successful in managing the memories is not social remembering

per se but the way in which the past is called up and made present and whether there is both vertical and

horizontal interaction between the mosaic of the memory narratives I have identified in this paper. I will

test it by considering 2 case studies of fairly open societies—those of Estonia and Georgia (the information

about the latter will be entirely borrowed from this paper). Similar starting point and different outcomes in

the developments in the memory and identity politics of these two countries with a similar political history

make them an appealing choice for an instructive comparison: these states—both with small populations,

situated in a geostrategic location with access to the sea and strategic maritime routes—share some

uncanny similarities, such as similar geopolitical loyalties and a shared historical legacy of frequent

dominations and conquests by greater powers. Both countries, former member republics of the Soviet

Union, enjoyed a greater degree of political and cultural independence than the majority of other former

communist republics during the 70-year rule of the Soviet rule and were the first ones to call for their

respective secessions from the Union in the late 80s. While both found themselves embroiled in

tumultuous history “crusades” in their quest for a new national identity, shortly after the collapse of the

Soviet empire their trajectories parted, as Estonia managed to unite the splintering memories of its

population under the banner of a common civic identity as early as in the period of 1988—1997, while

Georgia still has not. I would argue that this difference was created because of the formation of a public

sphere in Estonia, spearheaded mostly by the civil society’s efforts and the state’s cooperation; this public

sphere provided a stage for multiple actors to exchange and understand distinct and even occasionally

clashing historical narratives. I would also give some thought on how having a civil society does not

always lead to a democratic public sphere, and under what conditions can this happen. Although the

creation of a public sphere in Estonia (or the lack thereof in Georgia) is not the only factor that caused two

different patterns of historical memories formation in these two countries, I would argue it is a significant

variable to consider.