Apologies again for the late post:
So, I found it to be quite interesting how the role of religion was instrumental for how families in the steppe responded to soviet policies. For example, when Muksiin, the fellow fugitive of Mukhamet’s Uncle Toimbai-ata, dies from his sickness before he and his holy yurt can be transported, Mukhamet states that, “It was not, however, the Soviet Government itself, but the belsendi who were principally blamed for the tragedy. After all, it was argued any authority is God-given…” (24). Here, he highlights how these local soviet activists were condemned, as they lacked pity and “were wreckers” (25). And, rather consistently, Mukhamet describes mostly contentious relationships between the activists and his fellow people over soviet policies, even though the soviet government was ostensibly to blame. In this way, the muslim faith seemed to me to serve as a de facto shield for the true soviet authority, thus altering how Soviet rule was resisted.
Once such example of this resistance was for Kazakh families to flee to China. Mukhamet asserts only a single instance in which a soviet official was killed by a refugee. This incident with the Kazakh Zhakitzhan and official Isabekov, described on pages 43-44, to me serves as another another interesting indication of religion playing a huge role in the relationship between The Kazakhs and authority. Here, many locals avoid the hero’s funeral for Isabekov for killing Zhakitzhan, fearing blasphemous activity will be conducted during said funeral as opposed to avoiding the funeral out of protest of the policies that eventually led to Zhakitzhan being in a standoff. This was after locals had instructed Isabekov on the proper approach for winning the standoff.
Taken all together, I wonder if we think that the role of religion for Kazakhs during the period of forced collectivization enabled more of their subservience to soviet rule, or served more as an impediment towards their “modernization.” That is to say: I think in some respects, the faith described here by Mukhanmet encouraged what I interpreted as tolerance at times for their terrible circumstances. Another example I can think of are the responses given to Mukhamet’s sister when she is distraught over having to leave their family when marrying in secret due to the new soviet marriage policies. She is reassured that she must persist, with no blame being allowed be placed on soviet authority. Decidedly, I feel that religion here, at times, served as a significant barrier for Kazakhs to directly resist or protest soviet rule, as it in fact legitimized it, causing them to channel their blame elsewhere, and be more accepting of their circumstances than they might otherwise be.
You raised interesting questions how religion became a lens through which Kazakh nomadic society saw Soviet authority. But Mukhamet himself’s a more interesting case – certainly his worldview isn’t heavily influenced by religion, or any traditional view of the world.
In fact, I think Mukhamet’s own values differ heavily from that of the (doomed?) Kazakh nomadic society that he describes. Mukhahmet is able to embrace Soviet modernity – in its ideal form, at least – on its own terms. Chapter 7, “School”, describes his Soviet schooling in glowing terms, and attributes this experience to teachers as agents of Soviet power, with an important modernising project, that protected “ordinary people” from the excesses of local activists. (p47) (Even the Russian!) He speaks similarly of “undeniably progressive” initiatives that “liberated the women of the East”. (p27) Mukhamet’s choice of words, here, would have pleased Soviet ears!
(If you’ve got a copy of a book with a jacket, you might see why Mukhamet’s taking on Soviet values: he became a war hero in Stalingrad, and then a teacher who rose through the ranks of Soviet administration. He seems to be one of those people on the margins who, although made marginal by Soviet power, eventually benefitted from it as well.)
Taking into consideration Mukhamet’s own values, then, we might as well ask how reliable Silent Steppe is as source on how Kazakh nomads viewed Soviet power at the time. You point out, for example, that Mukhamet deflects blame for Soviet policy from Soviet power to local activists. That could just as much taking Soviet authority, god-given, for granted, as a reflection of Mukhamet’s own assumptions about Soviet authority – in the final analysis, redeemed. (Although he does also pin some of the the failures of collectivisation on on the presumptions made by Russian leaders of the Kazakh Party – see p49.)
I’m reminded of the beginning of Chapter 4 in which Shayakhmetov attempts to describe the background and character of the “activists” who tried to enforce Soviet policy on the steppe. He says, “most of the activists were illiterate. If a small percentage of them could read and write, it was because some time in the past they had been taught by the poorly educated aul mullah” (26). Their biased enforcement of the law, he says, was directly “because of their lack of education” (27). As well as some expression of the value of education, we also see perhaps more support for the possibility that religious structures did in some ways aid the Soviet project in Kazakhstan.
I think it is also important to recognize Shayakhmetov’s admission that “it would be a distortion of the truth to say that all the activists were loathed by people in the aul. Some were serious and thoughtful and always easy to get on with: they correctly understood the authorities’ policies and the people’s aspirations, and explained the way things were in an intelligent and comprehensible manner” (27). I see this as demonstrating that Soviet policy entered into an already-defined social arena with its own bonds, mores, and understandings; the officials who were most successful, by Shayakhmetov’s reading, were those who could effectively negotiate between Soviet policy and the distinctly non-Soviet preexisting Kazakh social fabric.
I think that it may be worthwhile to talk about ceremony and tradition in relation to soviet authority and religion. For example, the custom of the sister in law to make new names for the male relatives in her husbands family, the greeting between the grandmother and visitors, even perhaps the traditional millet that the author bemoans isn’t eaten often anymore. I wonder in which ways soviet authorities may wish to encourage these sorts of customs because of their “national” character and lack of specific anti-communist ideologue. Perhaps these customs are in fact subversive in a way not immediately apparent to me, in which case we may wish to explore that.