Archival Research and the Promise of the Project
Alexandra (Sasha) Zborovsky
Throughout their emigration from the USSR and dispersal across the globe, Soviet Jews have scattered their archival footprints far and wide.
Though largely concentrated in Ukraine and Russia, Jewish communities in the USSR were once scattered across its republics, ranging from the Baltics to Central Asia. And upon their departure from the USSR, Soviet Jews built new homes in Israel, the United States, Canada, Germany, and Australia. This dispersal has ascertained that evidence of Soviet Jews’ activism and subsequent migration can be found in the stacks of GARF (the State Archive of the Russian Federation), across republic archives (i.e. Lithuanian Special Archives, The Georgian Ministry of Internal Affairs Archive, The Central State Historical Archival of Ukraine...etc.), in the United States (Center for Jewish History in New York City, Western Reserve Historical Society in Cleveland...etc.), and in Israel (The Central Archive for the History of the Jewish people, National Library of Israel). The personal papers of prominent Soviet Jewish activists and the samizdat (self-published literature) they penned have found new homes at the University of Bremen’s Research Center for East European Studies, the Memorial Society in Moscow, and the Open Society Archives in Budapest. The list of archives goes on and on.
When I applied to PhD programs in history in the Fall of 2019, I imagined that a dissertation topic dedicated to the migration of Soviet Jewry was ripe for transcontinental archival research. I envisioned months spent in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Odesa, Kyiv, Tel-Aviv, and Jerusalem. I was no stranger to questions of accessibility. Since the archival gold-rush of the 1990s, when American researchers stormed the former Soviet archives, Russia had gradually tightened its restrictions on both state archives and civic organizations containing their own archives (i.e. the Memorial Society). I recognized that retrieving particularly confidential documents would require persistence, tact, and ingenuity.
Unfortunately, bureaucratic hurdles would be the least of my concerns. Over the last four years, accessing the histories of Soviet Jews—amongst other Soviet topics—has become increasingly challenging.
First came the COVID pandemic, confining residents of the globe to their homes. In-person archival visitations became a memory of the past. The pandemic defined my first two years of graduate school, preventing me from visiting or traveling to archives domestically and internationally. I remained unconcerned. The pandemic interfered with my efforts to write a prospectus, but by the time I would commence archival research, I was sure that the pandemic would abate.
Then came the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February of 2022. The safety of traveling to Ukraine, let alone conducting research in its archives, became grim. Museums, libraries, and archives would be damaged by the war in the years to follow.
The war also impacted travel to Russia. In the months prior to the invasion, Vladimir Putin had already sought to liquidate the aforementioned Memorial Society. But after February 2022, universities across the United States placed restrictions on university-affiliated travel to Russia. The State Department raised Russia to a Level 4: Do Not Travel advisory level. As graduate researchers read of the detainment of Wall Street Journalist Evan Gershkovich, their own anxieties flourished. No matter the unlikelihood of encountering a fate similar to Gershkovich’s, such a fate was now a possibility.
Researchers were quick to recuperate, redirecting their attentions to archives in the former republics, the Hoover Institution, and the Open Society Archive in Budapest. Those working on Soviet Jewish history were particularly lucky, as archives in Israel had carefully preserved much material on Soviet Jewry.
On October 7th 2023, war spread to the Middle East. In kind, the State Department and American universities issued travel warnings and travel deferment requirements. Israeli archives closed for months after the war began. Though they have since reopened, the war in the Middle East continues.
The aforementioned wars and restrictions are only the most prominent examples. Archives in former republics such as Georgia are tightening their hold on former Soviet collections, as recently reported by civic organization SovLab. The Open Society Archives faces frequent financial and bureaucratic hurdles due to the Hungarian government’s qualms with its host institution, Central European University.
These global circumstances amplify the paramount importance of the Blavatnik Archive to researchers in the years to come.
By creating a digitally accessible archive on Soviet Jewish history, activism, and migration, and working with archives globally to accomplish this task, the Refuseniks & Activists project will offer access to the information and historical narratives now threatened by war and repressive governments. As its collections and collaborative efforts continue to flourish, the project reflects a resilience and flexibility that current and future researchers of Soviet Jew history should also embrace.
