An interview with Leopold Haimson.
Leopold Haimson is professor emeritus of the Department of History and the Harriman Institute for Advanced Study of Eurasia at Columbia University. He earlier taught at the University of Chicago for ten years, from 1956 to 1966. Having received his BA from Harvard University in 1945 (in history and philosophy) and his PhD there (in history and social relations) in 1952, he served for several years as a research associate for Studies in Soviet Culture and Communications, a project directed by Margaret Mead, and in this connection published several articles on Soviet civilization. (1) In 1955, his influential The Russian Marxists and the Origins of Bolshevism appeared, and he subsequently published a stream of important articles and edited volumes on Russian political culture generally and on the history of Menshevism in particular, from its origins to its vital life in emigration. (2) In 1964-65, his "The Question of Social Stability in Urban Russia, 1905-1917" appeared, a two-part article that set off one of the most productive and long-running debates in the field of modern Russian history. (3) While retaining an interest in political culture, Haimson moved in the 1970s and 1980s toward social and quantitative history, publishing articles in French and English on the dynamics of strike movements in a comparative perspective. (4) In these years he also edited an influential book on "the politics of rural Russia." (5) Beginning in the 1970s, he became increasingly active in Russian academic life. He continues to publish actively in both Russian and English. (6) He is currently completing a study on the relationship between political and social conflicts at the end of the old regime (1900-17).
A distinguishing feature of Haimson's career has been his role as the organizer of collaborative research projects that have brought together scholars from different disciplines and different academic cultures, especially those of the United States, France, and Russia. (7) In addition to his work with Margaret Mead, from 1960 to 1965 he served as the director of the Inter-University Project on the History of the Menshevik Movement. For nearly two decades, he was director of the International Project in Comparative Labor History, based at the Maison des Sciences de l'Homme (Paris), Later he also served as co-chairman of the International Commission for Joint Projects in Modern Russian History. He helped organize a regular series of workshops in Russia that brought together American, European, and Russian scholars and has been a visiting lecturer at Moscow University, at the Institute of History, and at the European University in St. Petersburg.
Kritika: In your own work, you have paid great attention to questions of identity and subject position. What is your own relation to Russian history, in terms of your personal background and how you came to study it? Given your enduring attention to how others see or define themselves, how do you see and define yourself?
Haimson: This strikes me as a remarkably prescient set of questions. As for my personal background: I was born and brought up in Brussels, Belgium, where I resided up to the age of 13, when the German invasion in 1940 caused my family to escape, first to unoccupied France, and eventually to the United States. My parents were immigrants from Russia, of sharply different backgrounds, and animated by very sharply different interests and attitudes. Indeed, they would not have met but for the Bolshevik seizure of power, which caused them to take refuge in Harbin and to move after their marriage to Berlin, and eventually to Brussels. My father, born in Borisov, in the Jewish Pale, had received permission to move to St. Petersburg after graduating from the University of Warsaw. My mother was a descendant of a kupets pervoi gildii [merchant of the first guild], who had contributed (through the use of the considerable forest land that he owned in Siberia) to the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railroad.
I need to emphasize that my parents always addressed me in French (reserving their use of the Russian language for the frequent quarrels between them). Thus French was my native language at home as well as in the outside world. Indeed, as a child it was my dream to go eventually to Paris for my university education and to settle there to pursue my scholarly career. Eventually, I partially realized this dream through my association with the Maison des Sciences de l'Homme. Indeed, I continue to this day to feel more at home in France than in the United States.
As an undergraduate at Harvard between 1942 and 1945, my primary historical interest was in French history. My BA dissertation focused on the influence that Rousseau exercised on Robespierre, in the context of a general analysis of the conflicting theories of "Circumstances" and of "Plot" in the historiography of French Revolution.
I retain a golden memory of my educational experience at Harvard College during these years, comparable to E. M. Forster's recollections of his education at Cambridge. Because of the war, there were few civilians among the students enrolled at Harvard College, and I was free to choose my tutors in history and philosophy not only from permanent members of the Harvard faculty but also from among the distinguished scholars who took refuge at Harvard during these years. To this day I have the warmest recollections of this experience.
At the same time, to address directly the thrust of your question, I also experienced, and acted out, during these years veritable crises of identity. Not only did I lie about my age (which was 15 at the time when I enrolled) even to my roommates, but I also fabricated a background for my father that was closer to my wishes than to reality. The sources of these identity crises were undoubtedly traceable back to the trauma that all of us in my family, and in particular my father, experienced during our flight from the German army after the German invasion of Belgium in May 1940--especially after we were caught up in the German army's encirclement of Dunkirk. We had to escape by taking a fishing boat to Normandy, and eventually taking refuge in unoccupied France. My father, whom I had viewed as such a powerful figure up to this point, did not withstand the trauma of this experience very well. Thus my later scholarly interest in issues of identity was rooted in my own difficult childhood experience of how people understand themselves and are represented outwardly by and to others, including especially the authorities of state.
I did not decide to major in Russian history until I enrolled in graduate school in 1946, although as an undergraduate I took a survey course in Russian history with Michael Karpovich. I did not even study the Russian language formally until I spent a summer intensively studying it at Middlebury College in 1945. My decision to concentrate on Russian history in graduate school was particularly induced, as I recall in retrospect, by the decisive role that the Red Army played in the defeat of Nazi Germany. In any event, the years 1945-46 were decisive in this transition. As I recall, Crane Brinton read my BA dissertation upon his return to Harvard from his service in the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) and on this basis nominated me for a junior fellowship in Harvard's Society of Fellows. By the time of my interview in the spring of 1946, I proposed to devote myself to a study of Russia's political culture and, in particular, of the development of the views and attitudes of the members of Russia's 19th-century intelligentsia. Mercifully, my nomination was turned down, as I was quite unprepared at the time to conduct a serious, independent study of these topics. (Of my interview I recall only my conversation with Alfred North Whitehead, whom I worshiped at the time--and still do, above all 20th-century philosophers. He gently conversed with me about my philosophical views.)
Kritika: As a graduate student at Harvard, you were part of a remarkable cohort of scholars. What was the Karpovich seminar like, and what were the relations among its students?
Haimson: As a graduate student, I took Karpovich's seminar in Russian intellectual history (which was really devoted to the history of the Russian intelligentsia). I have little to add to the remarks that were offered by Richard Pipes in his recent review in Kritika about the influence that Karpovich exercised on his students, except to emphasize the exceptional tolerance that he displayed for different points of view, including ones with which he did not necessarily agree. (8) This was a trait that Karpovich also displayed as editor of Novyi zhurnal, and more generally in the mediating role that he played among conflicting factions of the Russian emigration.
Kritika: One might say you had an early experience with interdisciplinary studies, in that you worked closely with Margaret Mead. How did this come about, and how did it affect your work?
Haimson: My interest in cultural anthropology originally emerged in the course of my graduate studies at Harvard, where I took courses in the new Department of Social Relations. My studies included a reading course with Talcott Parsons that came to an abrupt end after I questioned the place in Parsons's conceptual scheme for processes of historical change. I also took a seminar in social psychology with James Bruner, for which I wrote a paper on the issue of "national character" in historical perspective. But the subject that interested me most was cultural anthropology. Clyde Kluckhohn had already initiated me by sending me one summer to study the Navaho in New Mexico. I was most interested at this stage, however, in the works of Ruth Benedict.
It was with the intention of working under Benedict's guidance that I went to New York after taking my general examinations in 1948. Benedict almost immediately decided, however, that I should work mainly with Margaret Mead, in view of the studies in which Mead had become involved in "Contemporary Soviet Culture." During the next four and a half years it was with Mead that I pursued my interests in cultural anthropology and in the application of its concepts and methodology to studies of the Soviet Union. The most important of the studies that I completed under Mead's direction was entitled "The Ideal of Conscious Activity in Contemporary Soviet Culture." This study consisted of three sections, devoted to Soviet treatment of academic psychology, Soviet analyses of military strategy and tactics, and an examination of what I termed "the Soviet style of chess." My analysis of this last topic--more precisely of the styles of Soviet chess embodied during the war years by Mikhail Botvinnik--was co-authored with the American Grandmaster Reuben Fine, whose chess team had battled a Soviet chess team in 1945.
You have raised the issue of the influence that Margaret Mead exercised over my historical studies. Her most obvious impact was reflected in the use of the concept of "political culture"--but also of the concept of culture in a broader, anthropological sense--reflected already in my treatment of the Russian 19th-century intelligentsia in the introductory section of my first monograph The Russian Marxists and the Origins of Bolshevism.
No less important, however, were the interests that Mead encouraged me to pursue in psychological, and more specifically, psychoanalytical analyses. In my historical studies these interests were already reflected in the treatment of the problems of "consciousness" and "spontaneity" discussed in my first historical monograph, as well as in my discussion of its major individual political actors. Such an interest in psychological themes became a feature of my subsequent historical studies. See, for example, the distinction among the concepts of "sinfulness," "shame," and "guilt" presented in my analysis of the evolution of workers' attitudes in the wake of Lena, presented in my recent book Russia's Revolutionary Experience, 1905-1917.
Kritika: What lay behind your decision to focus on the issues that became the Slavic Review pieces in 1964-65, and did you anticipate the furor over them? Have you regretted the focus that scholars devote to this publication, as opposed to your many subsequent publications? How do you explain this?
Haimson: To comprehend what lay behind my decision to focus on the issues that became the Slavic Review pieces in 1964-65, I need to explain the origins of these articles, including the character of my interactions with Soviet historians that induced me to write them (a topic to be elaborated upon in my reply to your next question).
The prehistory of the topics addressed in these pieces is actually to be traced back to the period when I directed the Project on the History of Menshevism. In the course of my reading of the articles published in the Menshevik press on the character and sources of labor unrest, especially in St. Petersburg on the eve of World War I, I became extremely impressed by the full recognition on the part of the authors of these articles of the explosive character that labor unrest assumed on the eve of the war, especially among the workers of the capital. I was also impressed--in retrospect, overly impressed--by the explanations that the authors of these articles advanced about the factors that contributed to the explosiveness of this labor unrest in which they increasingly discerned a major threat to the survival of the "open" labor movement. (This was partly due to its successful exploitation by the Bolsheviks, and to the inevitable repressions that these open organizations of the labor movement suffered, as the result, by the Department of Police.
It was largely on the basis of these readings that I delivered in Moscow in 1962, at the Institute of History of the Academy of Sciences, an analysis of the patterns and dynamics of labor unrest, especially in the capital, on the eve of the war. I emphasized here the major theses that I had drawn from my readings of the Menshevik press in this regard, most notably the emphasis on the impact on labor unrest during the "new industrial upsurge" in 1912-14 of millions of young new workers recruited from the countryside. I also expanded on the Mensheviks' descriptions of the attitudes of these young new workers by emphasizing the grievances they entertained because of Stolypin's land legislation. These laws effectively deprived them of their share of the land available to members of village communes by assigning possession of landholdings exclusively to the heads of household of the village communes (as against the previous assignation of these landholdings to these peasant households as a whole).
The analysis that I presented in Moscow fascinated a large majority of my audience, notwithstanding--or more probably because of--its heterodox character. It indeed gave rise to an extremely animated discussion in which most of my listeners dismissed the objections of L. M. Ivanov, the sole specialist on the social history of the Russian working class in their midst. This enthusiastic reception of my presentation was followed in short order by a favorable review of it in Istoriia SSSR by Iu. I. Kir'ianov and I. M. Pankratova (the daughter of the Pankratova). It also provided a bridgehead for my subsequent efforts to develop contacts between Soviet and American specialists in Russian history.
The personal relationships that I established in this period with members of the younger generation of Soviet historians--including prominently V. S. Diakin and A. M. Anfimov, in addition to Kir'ianov, and my close scrutiny of their scholarly work, further contributed to my desire to promote contacts between them and American specialists in the history of modern Russia. This was the background of the Slavic Review articles, which included my appeal at their conclusion to Soviet and American historians to join in the exploration of some of the issues they raised--overcoming the ideological and political barriers that existed between them.
Given these circumstances, you may readily understand that I do not regret the publication of these articles. What I do regret, however, is their overly deterministic notes about the effects that the political and social crises in urban Russia on the eve of World War I would have had even in the absence of the additional strains in Russia's body politic inflicted by the war. I sought to correct this deterministic emphasis in the revised version of this article published in Slavic Review in 2002, "The Problem of Social Stability Revisited." This piece incorporated the findings of archival research that I conducted in the Soviet Union on a regular basis after the original articles were published. However, I should also note that the propositions advanced in the 1964-65 articles set much of the agenda for my subsequent work in the archives, right to the end of the century--another reason that I do not regret their publication.
Finally in this regard, let me also note that while the character and tone of my 1964-65 articles in Slavic Review unquestionably drew the ire of many of my contemporaries among specialists in Russian history in the United States, they also contributed to drawing to my research seminar at Columbia several generations of graduate students eager to explore with me the various issues that they raised about the history of late imperial Russia, and indeed the character eventually assumed by the Revolution of 1917.
Kritika: Long before it became fashionable, you were involved in working with, and establishing joint seminars with, Soviet scholars. How did this happen? How did your relations with Russian scholars change over time?
Haimson: In the wake of these contacts a special session involving Soviet historians--most notably A. M. Anfimov--as well as myself, with the director of Columbia's Russian Institute, Henry Roberts, as chair, was scheduled at the annual meeting of the American Historical Society. I had also scheduled to follow up the session with discussions to be held at the Harriman estate in New York, hoping that those I considered the most serious and innovative members of the younger generation of Soviet historians would be involved with their American counterparts. In addition to Anfimov, the Soviet group was to include Iu. I. Kir'ianov, a specialist on the social and economic conditions of Russia's working class before the Revolution of 1917, and V. S. Diakin, the author of major innovative studies of the political roles played by Russia's landed nobility and bourgeoisie during the last years of the tsarist regime. (Kir'ianov had acted as my official host during my stays in the Soviet Union.) Finally, on the suggestions of my Soviet colleagues, the group was to be directed, or more precisely chaperoned, by P. V. Volobuev, the director of the Institute of History, who was himself the author of a very respectable monograph on various aspects of the social and economic history of 1917. (Volobuev had also contributed to the emergence of an unusually liberal intellectual climate at the institute in Moscow, which was reflected in a series of seminars on the character of Russia's autocracy and its historical sources.) A joint session involving the delivery of papers on the Russian peasantry by Anfimov and of one that I had prepared about Russia's working class on the eve of World War I was also part of the program. Copies of both papers had already been prepared and circulated when, on the very eve of the meeting, I received a phone call from Volobuev telling me that the Soviet group was unable to come "due to conflicting commitments."
The entire episode left ashes in my mouth, so much so that I declined the invitation of the editor of the American Historical Review to publish my own paper. As Volobuev had requested in his telephone call, I did mail him and Kir'ianov a copy, and when on my subsequent visit to Russia I asked Kir'ianov what he thought of it, he curtly replied, in sharp contrast to our previous discussions about our work: "We consider that your treatment underestimated the role played by the Party during this period!" As for Volobuev, I was unable to obtain, even under various pretexts, a positive reply to my request for a meeting. I did succeed in meeting with A. M. Anfimov, however, whom I found in a completely broken state.
It was only subsequent to my return to the United States that I learned of the large-scale purge that had been conducted at the Institute of History, which included Volobuev's dismissal from his post as director of the institute and his "exile" to the Institute of the History of Science (!), as well as the official reprimand issued against the institute's most innovative scholars, including Anfimov and Tarnovskii, the author of a heterodox survey of Soviet historiography. This purge was presumably carried out at the instruction of S. A. Trapeznikov, the official of the Central Committee of the CPSU in charge of the supervision of historical studies. (It also had interesting connections to the well-known Burdzhalov affair, about which I hope to write elsewhere.)
It was only in the more clement (if not more politically enlightened) atmosphere of the late 1970s that I proved more successful in my efforts to establish close contacts between Russian and Western historians--in the form of international colloquia devoted to discussions of various historical problems in a comparative prospective. My patrons for this were now the Maison des Sciences de l'Homme in Paris, and, most important, the Otdelenie istorii of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR, with whose academic secretary, Ivan Dmitrievich Koval'chenko, I now entertained close personal as well as professional relations, ones that continued until his death in 1995.
Even during the less clement period of my stays in Russia, however, from the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s, I continued to maintain warm, personal relations with Kir'ianov, who continued to act as my official host (and who died only last year).
Kritika: Kritika has proclaimed one of its scholarly missions to be an engagement with multiple national scholarly traditions. Your career has been a testimony to this, as you have been deeply and personally involved in the Russian, French, and American communities that study Russian history. In particular--as I recall from your seminars--the Annales school was an important reference point for your work and teaching. Yet unlike Fernand Braudel--or, rather, his argument in The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II--your teaching emphasized the role of individual agents and the transformatory impact of certain conjunctures. What influence in your work do you attribute to the French community in general and to Braudel in particular?
Haimson: More precisely, it was Fernand Braudel, during most of these years the administrateur of the Maison des Sciences de l'Homme, who exercised a profound influence on me, not only by his writings but also in the course of our personal contacts. First and most important was the impact on my work of his distinction in La Mediterranee between processes of long and shorter duration. Since my own studies focused on shorter time periods, his influence in this regard was particularly reflected in the application in my work of the concepts of "structures," "conjunctures," and "events," as well as those drawn in my analysis of the behavior of political actors, of "mentalities," "attitudes," and "actions."
Perhaps I also owe in part to my personal contacts with Braudel the source of the stress that I came to assign to the significance of language in shaping, rather then merely articulating, the ideas and attitudes displayed by political actors. For as I vividly recall, Braudel peppered a series of talks on the 19th-century Russian intelligentsia that I delivered in his seminar with the insistent question: "what language did they use?" As you well know, this is the question that I also came to address persistently to students in my graduate seminars.
As for the second issue raised in your question, you are, of course, perfectly correct in suggesting that, especially in the subsequent course of my academic career, I assigned much greater emphasis than did Braudel to what you have termed "the role of individual agents and the transformatory impact of certain conjunctures." The significance that I came to assign to these factors is most sharply brought out in my recent essay on "Lenin, Martov, and the Issue of Power: 1905-1917," which explores the roles that Lenin and Martov, respectively, played in shaping the political scenario of the events, in October-November 1917, that culminated in the Bolsheviks' seizure of power. Most important, they can be seen in the contribution that Martov made to this scenario by the issuance of his call for the formation of an "all-democratic" government excluding any representative of the "bourgeoisie," and in Lenin's response to the enthusiastic reception of Martov's call by delegates caucusing prior to the opening of the Second Congress of Soviets, resulting in the Bolsheviks seizing power before the congress convened and its delegates had an opportunity to freely reach a decision on the issue of power. My rationale for recoiling from deterministic interpretations is laid out in the introduction to my current study Political and Social Conflicts in Early Twentieth-Century Russia, where I ascribe to politics--including to the role played by individual, as well as collective, political actors--the significance of a "principle of indeterminacy" (a term alluding to quantum mechanics) in the character of the unfolding of allegedly "objective," seemingly inexorable historical processes.
More generally, I need to add to my indebtedness to Braudel my gratitude to his successors at the Maison des Sciences de L'Homme, including the late Clemens Heller, and subsequently Maurice Aymard. It was under Aymard's patronage that I directed two major collective works in comparative labor history, which I published in 1989 and 1992 in collaboration with Charles Tilly and Giulio Sapelli. It was also under the patronage of Maison des Sciences de L'Homme, but also, and more important, with the active support of Ivan Dmitrievich Koval'chenko, that I succeeded in the late 1970s in launching a new level of collaboration between Western and Soviet historians--reflected in the series of international colloquia, which are still convening on a regular basis as I write, under the sponsorship of the Institute of History in St. Petersburg.
Kritika: These days there is much talk of a "Columbia school," usually in reference to practitioners of Soviet history. For a much longer period, though, there has been talk of a Columbia or Haimson school in imperial Russian history. Do you believe that there is a "Haimson" school? If so, what would be its attributes?
Haimson: Let me dodge this question by referring your readers to the statements issued by my American contemporaries in Russian history, most recently by Alfred Rieber in his survey of American studies in modern Russian history published in Istoricheskie zapiski, that such a school exists. (9) Of the descriptions that have been advanced about it I prefer the one proffered by Terence Emmons, who sees its members as sharing a common interest in exploring the interconnections between social and political processes in late imperial Russia and in the Revolution of 1917. Indeed, in this perspective, the forthcoming study Political and Social Conflicts in Early Twentieth-Century Russia may well be viewed as the culmination and hopefully the fulfillment of my pursuit of this scholarly interest. I have scrutinized in this work--on a broad and rather longer historical canvas--stretching from the beginning of the 20th century to the early 1920s--the changing interrelationships between various groups of Russian society and the political parties that purported to represent them, as these parties sought to seize, and exploit, the levers of political power.
Kritika wishes to express its warmest gratitude to our three departing associate editors--Nikolaos Chrissidis, Janet Hartley, and Jochen Hellbeck--and welcomes our four incoming associate editors: Sergei Bogatyrev, Jan Plamper, Susanne Schattenberg, and Paul Werth. Sergei has primary responsibility for reviews in pre-Petrine history, Paul for the early imperial period, and Jan for Soviet history. Susanne will be working on international and comparative topics. Theodore Weeks continues to cover empire, nationalities, borderlands, and the late imperial period. The new editors' contact information can be found opposite the inside back cover and on our website: www.slavica.com/journals/kritika/kritika.html.
(1) Leopold Haimson, "The Ideal of Conscious Activity: Soviet Assumptions about the Direction and Organization of Human Effort," report for the Office of Naval Research (1951); Haimson, Decision Making and Communications in Soviet Industry (Boston: MIT Press, 1952). He also contributed to Margaret Mead, ed., Soviet Attitudes toward Authority (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1951); and Margaret Mead and Rhoda Metraux, eds., The Study of Culture at a Distance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953).
(2) Leopold Haimson, The Russian Marxists and the Origins of Bolshevism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1955); Haimson, "The Parties and the State: The Evolution of Political Attitudes in Post-Reform Russia," in The Transformation of Russian Society: Aspects of Social Change since 1861, ed. Cyril E. Black (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960); Haimson, ed., The Mensheviks from the Revolution of 1917
to the Second World War (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1975); Haimson, in collaboration with Ziva Galili y Garcia and Richard Wortman, The Making of Three Russian Revolutionaries: Voices from the Menshevik Past (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987); and others.
(3) Leopold Haimson, "The Problem of Social Stability in Urban Russia, 1905-1917," Slavic Review 23, 4 (1964): 619-42, and 24, 1 (1965): 1-22; see also Haimson, "The Problem of Political and Social Stability in Urban Russia on the Eve of War and Revolution Revisited," Slavic Review 59, 4 (2000): 848-75.
(4) Leopold Haimson and Eric Brian, "Changements demographiques et greves ouvrieres a Saint-Petersbourg, 1905-1914," Annales: Economies, societes, civilisations 40, 4 (1985): 781-803; Haimson and Charles Tilly, eds., Strikes, Wars, and Revolutions in an International Perspective: Strike Waves in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989); Haimson and Giulio Sapelli, eds., Strikes, Social Conflicts, and the First World War (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1992).
(5) Leopold Haimson, ed., The Politics of Rural Russia, 1905-1914 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979).
(6) E.g., Leopol'd Kheimson [Leopold Haimson], "Istoricheskie korni fevral'skoi revoliutsii," in Anatomiia revoliutsii: 1917-i god v Rossii. Massy, partii, vlast', ed. V. Iu. Cherniaev et al. (St. Petersburg: Glagol, 1994); Kheimson, "K voprosu o politicheskoi i sotsial'noi identifikatsii rabochikh v Rossii v kontse 19-go i nachale 20-go vekov," in Rabochie i intelligentsiia v epokhe reform i revoliutsii, ed. S. I. Potolov et al. (St. Petersburg: Blits, 1997); Kheimson, "Lenin, Martov i vopros o vlasti v techenii revoliutsii 1917 goda," Istoricheskie zapiski 5 (123) (2002): 216-54; Haimson, "The Political Evolution of Moscow's Kupechestvo in Early Twentieth-Century Russia: Observations and Reflections," in Extending the Borders of Russian History: Essays in Honor of Alfred J. Rieber, ed. Maria Seifert (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2003); Haimson, "Lenin's Revolutionary Career Revisited: Some Observations on Recent Discussions," Kritika 5, 1 (2004): 55-80; and Haimson, Russia's Revolutionary Experience, 1905-1917: Two Essays (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), to be reviewed in a forthcoming issue of Kritika.
(7) For Haimson's reflections on his experiences in Russia, see Leopol'd Kheimson [Leopold Haimson], "O vremeni i o sebe," Otechestvennaia istoriia, no. 6 (2005): 185-97.
(8) Richard Pipes, review of Nikolai Nikolaevich Bolkhovitinov, Russkie uchenye-emigranty (G. V. Vernadskii, M. M. Karpovich, M. T. Florinskii) i stanovlenie rusistiki v SShA, and Evgenii Vladimirovich Kodin, "Garvardskii proekt," in Kritika 7, 2 (2006): 383-87.
(9) A. D. Riber [Alfred Rieber], "Izuchenie Rossii v SShA," Istoricheskie zapiski 3 (121) (2000): 65-105.
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