Review by Karen Langley
Russia is a county which has had innumerable books written about its history, whether from its earliest times, or more particularly from the period of its world-changing revolutions in the early part of the 20th century. These have come from a number of angles (often depending on the politics of the author concerned!). However, a new book takes a look at the country from a completely different viewpoint, and makes fascinating reading – the subtitle should reveal why: A Feminist History of Modern Russia, From Revolution to Autocracy.
Julia Ioffe is a Russian-born American journalist from a Jewish family, and so her perspective is particularly interesting. Her family left Russia after the collapse of the Soviet empire, when the threat of pogroms reared their head again. However, she returned to Russia many times as a reporter, spending long periods there, and in the book she blends her own experience of the country with knowledge of its history, and also with the story of her own ancestors’ lives there. It makes for a heady mix and a compelling read which looks at Russian history through a completely new lens.
The book opens with lead up to the 1917 revolution, highlighting the importance of women to the fall of the Tsarist empire. In fact, Ioffe claims that women drove the revolution, with their demands for bread, and it’s hard to argue. Her initial focus is on three women whose influence was pivotal to the policies of the early Soviet state – Nadezhda Krupskaya, Inessa Armand and Alexandra Kollontai. The first two names are usually simply identified as Lenin’s wife and mistress, relegating their status and importance somewhat. However, as Ioffe makes clear, their input was crucial to the development of the Soviet state and it’s fascinating to see their importance being recognised like this. Kollontai was vital to the revolution and achieved a number of groundbreaking firsts: the first woman in history to be a cabinet minister, one of the first women to be appointed as a diplomatic representative of a modern state, and the first to be promoted to the rank of ambassador.
Yet despite all the ground gained, the women were fighting alongside male revolutionaries with old fashioned views, and Ioffe points time and time again to how they were not only sidelined by their comrades, but also by male historians. Therefore, it’s refreshing to see a book like this raising their profiles.
As the Soviet state developed, women’s freedoms expanded rapidly until they were a major part of the workforce. Further education was opened up, with women becoming doctors, engineers and scientists, and the emancipation which was part of the revolution’s ideology seemed to have taken root in the Soviet Union. However, Ioffe is very clear-sighted about what life was really like under Communist rule, and she explores this (as she does throughout the book) by looking at specific women. The life of Stalin’s wife and daughter are a case in point; and the existence of the various Kremlin wives does not sound an enviable one, certainly during the purges of the 1930s. Ioffe delves deeply into the experience of women in labour camps, which was a very different one to that of men because of the threat of assault or pregnancy; and this topic definitely warrants bringing to the forefront of our attention.
Despite the horrors of living under this kind of regime, women had made great strides forward; however, things started to go awry under Stalin, who made reverses to the advances in women’s status. And after WW2, when the population was decimated, the focus of the state was on repopulation and women were encouraged (nay, forced!) into doing their patriotic duty by producing children for the country’s workforce. This was regardless of whether a father was about, and it’s shocking to read about the taxes and penalties applied to those women who didn’t provide children for the regime.
Things continued to deteriorate as the Soviet Union limped towards the end of its life, and when it finally collapsed the condition of women became unthinkable. Domestic violence soared, and Ioffe relates some shocking stories (several from recent years) of how women have suffered at the hands of men. There’s a deeper underlying question here, however, and this is one Ioffe raises from the very start of her book.
Ioffe’s family was one of educated professional women – her sister becoming the fourth generation of women doctors in their family – and she asks the question early on: how has Russia gone from portraying itself as the vanguard of world feminism to the last bastion of conservative Christian values? The answer is sobering, but the reason she seems to point to is the decline of the Russian male population. Post WW2 there were reduced numbers of men left in the ‘pool’ because of the massive casualties (and despite the hundreds of thousands of Soviet women who also fought in that conflict). Those that were left were not held to account by the regime, in its desperation to repopulate, and so could father children left, right and centre with impunity.
Thus, the ‘double burden’ was borne by the women who had to not only earn a living but also do all the work within their family. This inevitably led on to the fact that Russian women turned against that way of life, and are nowadays in search of what they call a real man. For this, they are perceived as gold-digging clothes horses, only after a sugar daddy. Hardly surprising that when they find a provider, they stick with him. The reality is perhaps more complicated than I’m portraying it here, but certainly it goes some way to explaining how the role of Russian women has shifted over the years.
Motherland is an expansive and complex work and I’ve really only scratched the surface. Ioffe brings much personal knowledge to the book, and by building in the stories of the women in her family, to set alongside more famous names, she adds a fascinating element to the narrative. It’s clear that she feels a deep attachment to the land of her birth, but also a particular pain at what’s happened to it nowadays. The chapters exploring the rise of Putin are sobering, revealing much about his career I didn’t know, and it’s clear he appeals to a deeply conservative element in Russian society.
In the sweep of a book like this, it’s impossible to be completely exhaustive, and I did question the absence of any mention of Nadezhda Mandelstam and her story. I understand that the aim is often to shine a light on ordinary Soviet women, but in the extensive discussion of the camp and exile experiences of women, I think Mandelstam’s story would had added much because of the extent to which she and her husband were persecuted by the Soviets. Motherland is an immersive and intense read, although the plethora of names included in the book was occasionally a little confusing; and though there is a small image of a family tree included at the start of the book, it’s sometimes hard to keep track of Ioffe’s complex family relationships.
But these are minor quibbles; Motherland is a powerful and important look at a century of change in women’s lives. Although it can be difficult and painful reading – the litany of horrors endured by Soviet women can be overwhelming at times – this is a story which needs to be told. Whatever you think of Russia nowadays, it’s inspiring to read about the women who were pioneers in the Soviet state, making advances on behalf of their sex, fighting for their rights and for their country, and attempting to change the world for the better. The reverses they faced are shocking and heartbreaking, and I can only hope that things for women in Russia will improve in the future. Alas, Ioffe seems to feel that’s impossible, closing the book with the fear that she has lost her Motherland for a second time. We can only hope that she’s wrong.
Karen Langley blogs at kaggsysbookishramblings (www.kaggsysbookishramblings.wordpress.com)
Julia Ioffe, Motherland (William Collins, 2025). 978-0008469665. 489pp., hardback.
BUY at Blackwell’s via our affiliate link (free UK+ P&P)
