The topic covered in this book is of potential interest to specialists in military affairs, foreign policy, imperialism, and international relations. As of 1800 the empire had annexed most of its Asian territory, though significant expansion would continue with acquisition of the Caucasus, the so-called «stans,» the Amur Territory (which had been ceded to China in 1689), and Sakhalin Island. This Drang nach Osten brought within the realm peoples of various languages, ethnicities, and cultures; significantly lengthened the border with China; and made next-door neighbours of Ottoman Turkey, Persia, Afghanistan, and Japan. In addition to provoking imperial competition with the latter it also heightened rivalry with Great Britain, France, Germany, and the United States. It conditioned Russians’ Weltanschauungen and influenced domestic policies including the decisions to build the Trans-Siberian railroad and to deport convicts to Sakhalin. Understanding the motivations and methods behind this expansion is crucial to understanding Russia itself during this period.
Alex Marshall begins his study with an engaging anecdote about his youthful fascination with the paintings of Vasilii Vereshchagin, whose depictions of lands and peoples dominated by tsarist forces both romanticized and critiqued imperialism. This invocation of Vereshchagin reasonably leads the reader to expect a Saidean analysis that will illuminate Orientalism’s influence upon the general staff. However, Marshall rejects such a reading, arguing that «Said’s thesis of an instinctively racialist and blinkered orientalism» does not pertain in this case, because the «military vostokovedy were primarily concerned with the contemporary situation in Asiatic states» and did not share a view of Asia as «unchanging and backward» (P. 185). This formulation distorts Said’s theory, however, for in his book Orientalism British and French imperialists’ views of the Orientalized Other are described as complex and involving both praise and belittlement; and, in any case, such views turned upon discursive constructions whose functional intent was the defining of an Occidental norm.^[1] A fuller understanding of Said might have better enabled Marshall to explain why, for instance, the general staff underestimated the Japanese while overestimating the threat from Central Asian Muslims.
Also questionable is Marshall’s brief discussion of Foucault. He argues that the general staff’s so-called Asiatic Departments at least superficially «performed… a panoptic surveillance function akin to that attributed by Foucault to the modern state in general» (P. 177). Marshall refers to Jeremy Bentham’s ideal prison, which he claims was inspired by his tour of Nicholas I’s Russia. Actually, plans for the Panopticon were inspired by Jeremy’s brother Samuel, who during the 1780s developed techniques to better manage the English and Scottish craftsmen working under him at Potemkin’s Krichev estate. Similar to his treatment of Said, Marshall distorts Foucault’s ideas, in part by coining the term «panoptic knowledge» (P. 180), which I have never come across and which seems to conflate two different foci of Foucault’s thinking, the first being a disciplinary method of surveillance, the second being the general discursive production of knowledges with the goal of instrumentalizing subjects. Both are strategies of power, but each is distinct from the other. The Panopticon’s ability to make a subject discipline himself by internalizing an external gaze was what made it progressive, but there is no evidence the Asiatic Departments were able to wield this kind of power over Asia’s subject populations. Marshall is on firmer ground arguing for the War Ministry’s leading role in developing «knowledge-based systems of control and administration» (P. 184), but his evidence for this is inconsistent and he fails to demonstrate how knowledge of Asia related to its administration.
Inexplicably, these notions rear their heads only in the book’s conclusion and receive no airing in the body of the text. If there is an over-arching argument it emerges in chapter one and amounts to a negation of what Marshall claims is John LeDonne’s thesis of «Russian territorial annexations as organized strategic operations, with the annexation of Central Asia in the 1860s for example represented as a distinct four-stage pincer movement» (P. 2). Marshall has evidently misread the pages he cites in LeDonne’s book, and where these «stages» are clearly heuristic devices for summarizing broad developments over several decades. Moreover, LeDonne contextualizes them by arguing that the «conqueror [was drawn in] even against his will» and that «the frontier facilitated an advance directed by its own dynamic logic and its own geopolitical goals….»^[2] Admittedly, LeDonne’s formulation is somewhat vague, but it does not present the argument indicated by Marshall, who for his own part merely posits that Russia’s expansion into Asia was ad hoc and lacked overall strategic planning. This absence of a positively-formulated thesis significantly undermines this book, for Marshall soon finds himself adrift in a sea of information he makes little sense of. It seems odd that a member of the Defence Studies Department of King’s College London has been unable to organize and analyse this intrinsically interesting material in a fashion comprehensible to even specialists. But such is the case. Readers beware: this is a punishing read.
This problem stems in part from the structure of individual chapters. It goes without saying that a great deal occurred in the Asian theatre between 1800 and 1917. The book’s scope and breadth do not necessarily defy comprehensibility; and I believe we need more, not fewer, wide-ranging studies. But Marshall demonstrates little awareness of historical change over this period. Also, given the book’s title, why do two chapters purportedly cover the period 1714-1885? And could any author, whatever his or her dexterity, adequately discuss such lengthy time periods in chapters that are 23 and 21 pages long? Confusion is worsened by Marshall’s reluctance to adhere to a chronological format, as evident in the chapter entitled «Tactics of Expansion, 1714-1885,» which begins with a brief discussion of reinforcing troops in 1875, proceeds to comments made about the 1839 Khivan campaign, discusses Komarov’s 1884 advance against Merv, returns to the Khivan campaign, digresses on «Paskevich’s masterful wars against the Turks and Persians in 1827-29» (P. 60), and concludes with statistics on the number of Turkic-Muslim soldiers in the 1914 Russian army. Moreover, despite the time period indicated, no date earlier than 1812 is cited in this chapter. Similarly, a chapter entitled «The Russian General Staff and Central Asia» is redundant given a preceding one entitled «The Russian State, the Russian General Staff and Asia, 1714-1885.»
The chapter on the Caucasus includes some interesting material on Russian military intelligence, but perversely says almost nothing about the early nineteenth century, when most of the fighting there took place.
Aside from these larger problems, the structure of the paragraphs themselves is often bewildering. Marshall seems unaware of the need for topic sentences and so the reader soon learns to dispense with all expectations upon beginning one of his lengthy paragraphs (one stretches almost two-and-a-half pages). Readability is rendered more difficult by the use of the dash in place of the hyphen and the habitual listing of persons without first names or initials.
There is some degree of consistency, though seemingly unintended. To return to Marshall’s argument for the absence of grand strategy, much of his evidence suggests otherwise. A. I. Bariatinskii’s influence is termed both «strategic» and «administrative» (P. 38); D. I. Romanovskii is credited with trying to develop a «strategic paradigm» (P. 39); we are told the general staff tried to apply «across a broad scale» (P. 41) lessons learned about local customs; the Asian theatre is characterized several times as a proving ground for tactics to be used elsewhere; and Marshall claims that during the 1880s the general staff developed a war plan for the whole of the Central Asian theatre. Another theme that punctually emerges is that of the professionalization of the military including the general staff, intelligence services, and lower ranks, though this has been better covered elsewhere.^[3] Yet another theme is that of the struggle between the general staff and the tsar. Marshall claims that Nicholas II was not the military idiot we have been led to believe, but like so much else this provocative assertion is left undeveloped. Moreover, it is surprising to find no mention here of Nicholas I’s shameful conduct during the 1828-1829 Russo-Turkish War.
To conclude, this is an unsatisfactory book, though it cannot be said to be worthless. First, it may serve as a foil for scholars and graduate students working in an area still needful of attention. I imagine that someone with additional language skills in Georgian, Chinese, Turkish, or Persian could provide a much better account of one or more of the Asian sub-theatres. Second, because this text is accessible as an eBook (see http://www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk), its contents may be searched without having to slog through the prosaic quagmire (though one hopes this technology will not alleviate historians of the responsibility to produce readable books). Finally, despite there being numerous RGVIA fondy cited in the bibliography, endnotes show the book is based on primarily published sources; nonetheless, Marshall had culled from these an impressive amount of detail (indeed, minutiae), much of which might serve as a springboard for more coherent studies than this.