Polish researcher of Belarusian identity dreams of a monument to a "kulak" in Minsk and awaits when Belarus will open up to the world again

The book can be downloaded here.

Anna Engelking is a professor, researcher at the Institute of Slavic Studies of the Polish Academy of Sciences (PAS), former director of this institute, anthropologist, ethno-sociologist, researcher of Polesia and Hrodna region, author of a fundamental work on the Belarusian village at the turn of the centuries "Kalkhasniks", and a researcher of the scientific legacy of the Polish ethno-sociologist Józef Obrębski, who studied Polesia in the first half of the 20th century.

The monograph "Kalkhasniks" is the result of more than fifteen years of research that the author and her colleagues conducted almost annually in Belarus since the mid-1990s.

The goal was to get an answer to the question of what Belarusian peasants think about themselves — their roots, history, affairs, and life, their place in the world.

Павялічыць

Anna Engelking (right) during research in Polesia, 2011

Residents of villages in eastern and western Belarus, in conversations with Polish researchers, recalled collectivization and times of repression, World War II and post-war devastation, later more prosperous life and work in collective farms (kolkhozes).

Павялічыць

Anna Engelking (left) during research in Hrodna region, 1997

Hundreds of recorded conversations formed a collective self-portrait of a Belarusian, which the author of the book encapsulated with the capacious word "Kalkhasniks". Under this title, the book was published in Warsaw in 2020, and now its Belarusian version has appeared. The researcher is proud of it and even considers the Belarusian version of the book to be better.

Why is being called a "kalkhasnik" not offensive?

Anna Engelking briefly spoke about the winding path of her book to the Belarusian reader.

"Already in 2020, the Polish Institute planned to finance the translation and printing of the book in Belarusian, but August came, and due to well-known events, these plans fell apart. So, after a few years, I had to start all over again. But in the end, I was very satisfied with what turned out. Excellent translation, the book is well-designed, the PDF is well-made. In my opinion, the book in Belarusian translation turned out better than the Polish original. Time passed, and something had to be corrected, something shortened or, conversely, added, including current information. As a result, the Belarusian text is now the most up-to-date," Engelking said.

The author does not consider the chosen word "kalkhasniks" for the title an offensive epithet, but rather a sign of a certain era. She believes that peasant values continue to live in modern Belarusian culture and in Belarusian society as a whole, although in percentage terms, the urban population in Belarus is significantly larger.

"Kolkhozes are what was most memorable for them in the last century. They call themselves kalkhasniks because they are carriers of a peasant culture, which is a durable culture with deep roots and was characteristic of all agrarian communities. It was passed down from generation to generation, and we saw that," explained the professor.

The conditional formula of Belarusian identity, which the Polish researcher derived in her book, according to her, has stood the test of time. Anna Engelking recalled how Belarusians behaved during the tumultuous events of 2020.

"Remember? They protested non-violently, held meetings in courtyards, and when they went to street marches, they walked calmly. It became a meme that if a Belarusian needs to shout words of protest, they climb on a bench, having previously removed their shoes. That's how it was, although, of course, there were times when stones were thrown. But mostly people were cautious, because they saw security forces sitting in cars in the courtyards, ready to rush in and disperse them at a command. These were pragmatic behaviors that fully corresponded to the results of my previous research, because these are typical behaviors of Belarusian peasantry," says the book's author.

Climbing on a bench without shoes – a norm of what?

A distinctive feature of the Belarusian protests was their peacefulness. The researcher confirms that this is also a deep component of Belarusian identity.

"Identity is born from dogmas. Yes, kolkhozes are just one of the historical stages of your society. But mostly we must talk about peasants who were formerly serfs. These people gained freedom in the 19th century and became masters, but in Soviet times they lost this freedom again and became kalkhasniks. In such historical conditions, the identity of people could not but be influenced by pragmatism, restraint in behavior, developed over generations.

And the other side of such an identity was peacefulness, which I personally call civility. When there is no militarism in the character of a people, no focus on a big fight, knighthood is not approved, there are no romantic ideas of self-sacrifice for the homeland, which is characteristic, for example, of Polish culture, but first and foremost there is a focus on survival.

And this was also fully noticeable in the Belarusian protests of 2020. It is enough to recall the calls "No to violence" or "We are peaceful people." This is the idea of struggle without violence. Because centuries were spent in struggle with power — the army, the police, officialdom, landlords — who were always stronger and always defeated them, but at the same time, measures had to be sought to defend their interests. And this also shaped national identity," believes Professor Anna Engelking.

The scholar began her research into Belarusian identity back in the 90s of the last century. As part of expeditions, she visited various regions of Belarus and says that she noticed not only their geographical differences.

"I worked a lot in the west of Belarus, in the Pinsk region, for example, or near Lida, but also in the Homiel region, Mahilioŭ region, even reached Horki near the Russian border. And I concluded that the division into east and west is not so much a division into those lands that belonged to Poland until 1939 and those that always remained in the USSR, and this division is not only mental.

The East is the territory that suffered the most. Firstly, collectivization began there as early as the late 1920s, 20 years earlier than in the west. I spoke with very old people who remembered this, and for whom it was an incurable trauma. Because then they experienced dekulakization, the madness of power, brutal persecution, repression — everything happened and people did not forget it. Especially in the Homiel region.

For example, we spoke with those whose parents were shot in 1937, who suffered in other ways, relatives fled, because fear reigned. And then World War II came, and again Eastern Belarus was a territory of battles, occupation, punitive actions, which the Germans called pacification. By the way, in Western Polesia this also happened and also affected the mentality, but it was the East that became the part of Belarus that suffered the most.

Павялічыць

Staff of the Department of Belarusian Culture at the University of Białystok: Katarzyna Dalęgowskа, Anna Engelking, Irena Matus, Oleg Latyszonok, Elżbieta Smółkowa, Evgeny Mironovich with guests of the department. Białystok, 1999

"We came to Belarus during an 'open window'"

According to Anna Engelking, she has very good memories of the research she conducted in Belarus, as she met people who helped Polish scholars in every possible way. She speaks of both ordinary Belarusians and people in power, says Anna.

"Initially, my students and I came near Lida and worked in Catholic villages, where many could speak Polish. This was my conscious choice of research location so that my Polish students could understand their interlocutors and at the same time learn the Belarusian language. Thus, after just a year, with the same group, we were able to go to Polesia and conduct similar research there. Of course, we spoke in trasianka (a mix of Belarusian and Russian), but we already understood the locals well," Ms. Anna recalled.

Already in the first summer of research, the scientist was very surprised by the respect for kolkhozes expressed by Belarusian peasants. She says that, given her Polish stereotypes, this seemed very strange.

"That kolkhozes must be preserved, that without them there will be no life, that we love our chairman, he is a good manager. At the same time, when they talk about collectivization, half of them cry — it is clear that this is a terrible trauma for them. But why then do they not have a negative attitude towards kolkhozes? I began to ponder and realized that this would be the topic of the main research," the scientist said.

"It would be dangerous for Poles to work in Belarus now"

A Belarusian journalist friend helped the Polish scholar organize research in Polesia. The researcher and her colleagues were invited by a certain collective farm (kolkhoz), they met with farm managers who provided guests with accommodation for the night and all necessary infrastructure. After meetings and conversations, she began to better understand the psychology not only of ordinary peasants but also of their superiors, says Ms. Anna.

"There was even a time when a kolkhoz bus drove us around the villages where we conducted our research. In total, over the summer, we probably contacted ten chairmen. All were positive, friendly people, and among other things, we had incredibly interesting conversations that personally allowed me to understand the complexity of the position of a kolkhoz chairman in that system.

On the one hand, they must possess the secrets of peasant labor, on which the success of the farm and the well-being of the people depend. And on the other hand, the state presses on the chairman, controls every step, and he lacks resources: money for farms, for building a kindergarten, and so on. That is, this poor chairman is torn to pieces, he owes everyone.

By the way, during my research in Belarus, I particularly highlight one chairman: he was terribly impressed by how dedicated he was to his farm. And we met him not in Polesia, but in Horki district, far in eastern Belarus. So sometimes our stereotypes crumble into dust," the researcher joked.

Anna Engelking notes with sadness that she can no longer repeat similar research, and not because it costs a lot.

"For Poles, it would be dangerous now. And Belarusians themselves could do something like this, of course. However, one must take into account that people there will probably be more cautious and closed now. We started our research during times of openness, we hit an 'open window.' Now there is no such thing. But the benefit of such research would be great, because time changes everything. It's interesting how Belarusians would answer questions about repression now."

The figure of the Belarusian boss continues to interest the researcher. She knows what the attitude towards him was 15 years ago, but what do people think now?

"Conceptually, the figure of the kolkhoz chairman is still the figure of a master. On the one hand, a good master cares for people, ensures a good harvest, and pays for work, but on the other hand, this is the person who blocks freedom. Previously, the duality of attitude towards the master was inevitable, and now, even if they dislike the farm chairman, they will still respect and fear him. This is interesting to trace at various levels," notes the Polish researcher.

Despite all the nostalgia for times when free farmers worked in Belarusian fields, the anthropologist has no illusions about their return.

"What will Belarusian agriculture be like in another 15 years? I was last in Belarus 10 years ago and already then noted that the Belarusian village is rapidly dying out. I see that this process continues and, in my opinion, will lead to the emergence of a system of new large farms, modern estates. They will be owned by owners, there may be different forms of ownership, but the essence is that labor will be hired. It will be provided for agriculture by newcomers, this is already happening. It is they who are increasingly settling your 'agrotowns'," the researcher notes.

At the end of the conversation, Professor Anna Engelking shared her dream with Svaboda — to honor the Belarusian peasant, whom she considers the creator of Belarusian national identity.

"I would like a monument to a peasant to be erected in the center of Minsk. I would call this person a 'kulak' (as my interlocutors said), but I know that this word is unpopular in Belarus. Then — a strong proprietor, who in the popular imagination was an example of industriousness, became rich because he worked, had a lot of land and many children, whom he cared for. Such a Belarusian was not honored by Soviet power, but he survived and is worthy of a monument," believes the Polish researcher.

Anna Engelking's book "Kalkhasniks. An Anthropological Study of the Identity of Belarusian Villagers at the Turn of the 20th and 21st Centuries" was presented at the 4th Belarusian-Polish Expert Forum named after Roman Skirmunt at the end of June in Warsaw. The book has so far only been released in PDF format, but the author has plans for a printed version as well.

When asked whether the Institute of Slavic Studies of the PAS, where Professor Anna Engelking continues her scientific activities, has plans to conduct new research in Belarus, she replied:

"Yes, undoubtedly. But for now, there are no plans for field research. We either work with existing material or historical topics. But we are waiting for the time when Belarus will 'open up' again."

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