The Moscow Teatr “Romen,” dating back to 1931, is famous throughout the Soviet Union, and its performers have been some of the country's best-known. The Teatr “Romen” connects Roma from all over the country, and many who work there are related; three generations of a family may appear on the stage at one time. These families, along with Roma working as professionals, make up an lite within the Romani community in Moscow. They are the most outwardly assimilated (wearing European dress, etc.), most fluent and literate in Russian as well as Romani. These families usually move in different spheres than do Roma who live in villages around Moscow and work in cooperatives or as independent merchants, although extended family networks may include Roma of all spheres. Most studies of Gypsies (including those of non-Roma, such as Irish Travellers in the United Kingdom) assume a certain homogeneity of culture and of class:

The Teatr “Romen” is a case that demands such acknowledgment. Yet, in a sense, these élite performers are doubly marginal, both as performers and as ethnic outsiders who “threaten the rhetoric and narratives of nationalism.” Currently in the USSR, such narratives are in flux, as many national minorities demand greater cultural and political autonomy. Roma, however, are not demanding their own republic, and requests for schools and radio shows are often tempered by the assertion that, “this country has been kind to Gypsies.” Roma élites are also in a peculiar position: charged with representing Roma to outsiders, they are also concerned about maintaining the integrity of the urban community as Roma. Because of this, they must negotiate the interstitial area between cultures.

American citizens have had over two hundred years to judge the differences between liberty and license, but for Russians freedom of expression is a new, heady, unsettling experience. Glasnost has not only permitted them to print liberal, democratic sentiments, but opened up a Pandora's Box of suppressed anger and frustration at what many Russians consider the systematic destruction of their culture during the Soviet period. An ugly side to this eruption of patriotic outrage has resulted in the public expression of violent hostility to the tiny fraction (less than 1%) of the Soviet population who are Jewish. It is in this context that Ogonek's sophisticated handling of certain unsavory aspects of the Russian nationalist movement deserves special attention. Under the guidance of its chief editor, Vitalii Korotich, the weekly magazine has not limited its coverage to such neo-Nazi organizations as Pamyat (Memory) and “Otechestvo” (Fatherland), but focussed attention also on the important role in fomenting antisemitism being played by certain prominent members of an immensely important but little known organization, the Russian Republic Writers' Union. Ogonek has handled both sources of antisemitism with the traditional weapons of democratic pluralism: exposure to public scrutiny, and deflation through satire and ridicule.

Basically this question comes down to asking: Will the economy or the economic situation be of any help in salvaging the Union? Along the way to answering that, I want to address the question of what is the relationship between economic reform and republican integration from the perspective of the Center and from the perspective of economics.

The Nazi assault on Gypsies as an undesirable group was launched in the first months of the Third Reich. By the end of 1933, the outlines of a policy of total removal and, if possible, extinction were in place. Over the course of the first year of Hitler's rule, Gypsies had been numbered among those destined for mass sterilization. The goal of preventing their propagation had been pronounced on July 14 when the new cabinet issued a statement (with the force of law) proclaiming the concept of Lebensunwertesleben—life unworthy of living—a category of person that, at the time, specifically and indiscriminately included and embraced all Gypsies. Shortly thereafter, exploratory contacts were made with the League of Nations to assess the practicability of allocating one or two Polynesian islands to which the Gypsies could be deported. By September 1933, the Ministry of Interior announced a more realizable preliminary plan to arrest persons with no fixed and permanent addresses (i.e. primarily Gypsies) and to incarcerate them in special detention camps as a means of removing them from the mainstream of society. There the Gypsies would be rendered preemptively criminally harmless, (since they were described as a potential detriment to the general German population), and biologically “futureless” (zukunftloss) by way of mass sterilization.

In retrospect, the central ingredients for a formula of genocide, for the complete extermination of the Gypsies, were all in place: an ideology which deprived them of the basic right to life; a process of law by edict, which subjected them to totalitarian rule; a hypothetical plan to deport them abroad, and a more concrete one to isolate them from the citizenry, by segregating them in prison-like compounds, deprived of all civil rights; and a technology of physical mutilation that would deny them progeny and a link with a biological future, by literally destroying the unconceived next generation. Thus, a skeletal blueprint for the genocide of Gypsies by the racial architects of the Nazi regime had been drawn up by the end of 1933 well before the first Gypsies in Germany were rounded up in January 1934.

Please bear with a specialist in international relations commenting on a series of presentations in comparative politics and economics. I will first try to identify a set of issues that arise from the presentations, and then I will spend a few minutes giving some of my own reflections on those issues.

I shall look at language legislation passed in the republics. The subject is not as dramatic as the actions of the Black Berets. It is not as obvious as empty shelves or economic crisis, but it is interesting because language legislation can effect all people in their everyday lives. It is also interesting because the Center has left language laws largely in the hands of the republics. So here is an area in which the republics are beginning to act as independent agents. And whether or not they become independent, they will have to grapple with language as a significant policy issue.

Republican reforms are an interesting topic, especially for those of us who have despaired of the prospect for any real market reforms by the central government. The last year has provided a ray of hope. The governments in the Baltics, Armenia, the RSFSR, and later Kazakhstan, all announced plans for privatization and the creation of a market system that extended well beyond those of the central government. Whereas central initiatives—there now appear to be far too many to name—over the last two years appeared to be halting and indecisive, the vitality of the republic sovereignty campaigns suggests that economic transformation has much better prospects at the grass-roots. We all know some of the evidence that exists for this: the fact that, in the Baltics for example, the rate of formation of cooperatives has been much higher, almost twice as high as the average for the rest of the Soviet Union; that in Estonia, the percentage of joint ventures far outweighs the share of Estonia's contribution to the Soviet GNP, and so on. We know that the RSFSR went ahead and adopted the 500-day plan, or at least announced that it was doing so, even after the Shatalin plan was rejected at the national level.

One of the major problems facing independence movements in the USSR is that significant and increasing numbers of people reside outside their national homelands and, therefore, are considered aliens in the national homelands of others. The ancestral homeland is intimately enmeshed with nationalism, and the deep emotional attachment to and the sense of exclusive ownership of the sacred soil of the homeland should not be underestimated. Most ethnic conflict involves alien in-migration or disputes over the control of the homeland. Significant numbers of nonindigenous groups within the national homelands undermine the nation's exclusive claim to the homeland, dilute the national homogeneity of the homeland, and increase interethnic interaction within the homeland. Thus, throughout the world, nations strive to maximize national homogeneity within their homelands, and migration that results in alien incursions into the national homeland is viewed with alarm and frequently results in violence. In the Baltic republics, for example, alien in-migration is of intense public and political concern and is frequently cited as a major justification for political independence. Differential natural increase among the nationalities in a homeland is also a vital concern when it significantly affects the ethnic composition of a homeland. Assimilation through intermarriage is another development frequently viewed as a threat to national homogeneity, although in the Soviet Union offspring of intermarriage in national homeland most often identify with the indigenous nationality.

To some extent I feel as Robert Lewis does, that the process leading from “national awakening” to “national liberation” is a worldwide tendency, and that the Soviet Union is part of a global Zeitgeist in this respect.

Byway of illustrating this fifteen-stage process, I would like to just report on a couple of examples I came across in reading about the republics as independent actors. One such issue has to do with the attempts of the different republics, and the nations within them, to form transnational coalitions across borders. In a way, these attempts get around the problem of establishing formal diplomatic relations with other countries: maybe you do not need de jure recognition if in fact you can do things with other people. For instance, consider the anti-nuclear congress, organized in Kazakhstan by something called the Nevada-Semipalatinsk Movement, led by the poet Olzhas Suleimenov. In early 1989, a Soviet nuclear test in Kazakhstan was followed by a public protest, and Suleimenov became the leader of the movement. He and his people quickly decided to call it not the “Semipalatinsk Movement” but the “Nevada-Semipalatinsk Movement.” And they immediately brought in American Indians, Maoris, and other people from around the world, who are all being subjected to nuclear testing. He also established personal liaison with Dr. Bernard Lawn of the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War in Cambridge, Massachusetts; last summer three hundred doctors and scientists in Semipalatinsk talked to people who were immediately affected by military nuclear testing.

Now Iam not concerned with definitions. Instead I would like to discuss very briefly the appearance of three organizations in Central Asia that are independent of the state. Everyone knows about the popular fronts in the Baltics; everyone has heard presentations about Ukraine, Belorussia, and Moldavia. I decided, therefore, to take the “hopeless” people, about whom one Soviet diplomat said two years ago: “They are not ready yet for democracy because they have jumped from the feudal system to the socialist system, avoiding your wonderful capitalistic stage when you created democratic institutions.” I want to demonstrate that democratic institutions were indeed created independently from the state in these Central Asian republics.