Background: As part of the Education and Social Justice Project, in June 2012 undergraduate student Masha Goncharova interviewed Anastassia Didour, a immigrant from Russia to France, a university student at the Sciences Po, and a camp leader of the Russian Students Christian Organization—Orthodox Youth Movement (Action Chrétienne des Etudiants Russess—Mouvement de Jeunesse Orthodoxe, ACER-MJO). In this interview Didour discusses the perceived tension between recent Russian immigrants and those in the White Russian émigré community, how Russian language and culture is transmitted through ACER's camps and other activities, and the future of Franco-Russian youth.
You moved to France from Russia when you were little. What was it like growing up among these fourth or fifth generation White Russian émigrés, some of whom have never been to Russia and yet call themselves Russian? Does their understanding of Russia differ from yours?
Particularly among the grandparents and parents of my White Russian émigré friends, very deeply ingrained pure Russian traditions remain. Most of their grandparents have preserved the Russian language and speak it very well. For the parents and kids, basic knowledge of the language is important. They try to transmit this through the schools. They really try to hold on to their family history, and of course to Orthodoxy, for this is everything that connects pre-revolutionary Russians. But I notice that in many families, even with this desire to save the Russian heritage, the language doesn’t come with it. They believe in Russian Orthodoxy but choose not to maintain their Russian culture. But I should say that this is not all of my friends. Some of my friends want to return, especially after hearing mine and others’ stories about Russia. They know their years of going to summer camps and Russian schools have preserved something very unique. And when we’re in the summer camp, not surrounded by the pressures of French social life, they really feel that by their natures they have a unique perspective on Russia. It is contrary to what contemporary Russians lost—specifically religion.
What was it like to start interacting with them when you moved from Russia?
More or less, it was a challenge. In the movement [ACER] as a whole, which hosts events throughout the year, but especially in the camp, when I was a kid, I felt that this is a “family camp.” All of the parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents of these White Russians went, and there’s even the tradition of meeting your future husband or wife through this camp. And when you don’t have this big family and don’t have famous ancestors and your family wasn’t full of princes and aristocracy, you definitely feel it, even if it’s not directly stated. Sometimes you feel isolated. In my situation, you don’t have it, and you’re a bit apart from the rest. You see their extremely tight-knit community that they’ve preserved for these generations and know you don’t necessarily fit into the family. You can have very intimate relations with these people, still. Nobody would ever hurt your or reject you; in fact they are very open and welcoming. But there’s just an invisible line that you cannot cross. And then eventually you think about it less and less, and it’s fine. But I still remember my first year in the camp; I definitely felt it.
During the camp counselor weekend we were at, something that came up quite frequently was the "Dostoyevskian questions" and the particularity of the Russian soul. Do you discuss this often with your friends at the ACER camp?
Most of the people who go to this camp have become completely French: they were born here, grew up here, etc. But I think what makes this camp such a special place, and why I personally love it so much, is that there is this understanding of the Russian soul. You can’t describe the atmosphere, but we understand each other so much more. Orthodoxy gives us something, of course, but it is our Franco-Russianness that separates us, and definitely them [the fourth and fifth generation children], from the French. They are a [Russian] community within a [French] community. Most of us here love [Fyodor] Dostoyevsky, and I think that this is because he accomplished the most important thing: he describes the Russian soul, which is really something you can’t describe, but he did. Maybe it’s that why they love him so much—not only the ACER group, but all immigrants are inclined to love his works.
How do you personally relate to the Dostoyevskian questions of being an immigrant among émigrés?
I find it is like you are in a different country, but your family—your immediate circle of the people closest to you—lives differently and understand the world differently. It is because of this Russian soul concept. An immigrant by his nature is a lonely and lost person, even if he is well assimilated into the community. He or she never wholly fits into the community and everyone will look at him as still an outsider, whether by the small jokes or just by the personal knowledge that he is different. He finds himself split between the homeland and the new country; he doesn’t know who he is. The questions he inevitably asks himself make him question his identity—like who am I, where am I from, and even on the metaphysical plane. And this leads to the works of Dostoyevsky, which are also spiritual in nature.
How did you personally keep your Russian culture alive?
Well, first of all, I must admit that I always tried to assimilate. More than just integrating myself, but really to become completely French. I think when a child is still very young, it’s hard for him when he doesn’t speak the language of the country. He wants to learn it as quickly as possible, and he makes so many efforts that he’s even ready to forget his culture. I know that for a long time I would hide from everyone that I’m Russian. It was easier for me because I had a French-sounding last name. Sometimes in classes people would make fun of me because I spoke Russian, so for a very long time I tried to hide my Russian. And I would fear that someone would find me out or say that I have a light accent. And when I did assimilate, how I now realize that I am so lucky in that my parents saved the Russian culture at home. But this realization is coming to me very late; I am already 18 years old, when I have fully integrated into the [French] culture and when I outgrew that age when I tried to hide everything that made me different.
There were so many amazing things for me there in the camp that helped me to come closer to my Russian heritage. When I went to the camp as a 14-year-old, I found that nobody hid his or her culture! Nobody was ashamed of his or her last name or [Russian] cultural heritage. It was so exciting to find a place where children are proud of it. You can learn more about your culture. You can open up things you didn’t know before about your culture. It was really a spiritual opening for me, a very positive one that helped me better understand myself and my Russian identity.
Outside of the ACER organization, do you feel or develop your Russian culture?
Very few opportunities exist to develop our Russian culture outside of the church. This organization, you can say, is exclusively in Paris and we can keep our activities alive on a monthly basis. In other towns like Provence or Nantes where I lived, the Russian immigrants and White Russians who went to small towns all married French [individuals] or just sort of integrated to the point of not being recognizable as anything but French. Plus, there are so few of them that they don’t have very close ties among themselves. They don’t really have any connections to their culture. They forgot. And the actual Russians who came after the fall of the USSR are few and far in between. Mostly now who comes is not Russians, but Ukrainians, Georgians, Belarusians—these people speak among themselves in Russian, but they don’t really care about the Russian culture or religion. That’s why there aren’t any associations or anything in other cultures.
How did you first react when you saw the way these generations of White Russians have kept a grip on their heritage and community?
This truly amazed me. It is really incredible, and it is interesting. It is fantastic that they could save it. They have, after all, created another world for themselves here in Paris. I was a houseguest in this one family, the grandparents of a family friend. They were literally in this small tiny pre-revolutionary world that they had created. They know their family history perfectly and talk about it nonstop. At dinner, they almost every night remember events from the family’s past, like when one of their great-ancestors married someone or wrote something, because these people were great thinkers and intellectuals, after all. They continue to speak in Russian, although with a French accent, but these are the very manners and traditions that make them so uniquely Russian! You find yourself in a house of those people as if they lived before the revolution, before 1917. It’s like going into a time capsule. That’s how they have transmitted the style of life to their kids. But this is mostly, I think, with the older kids. I’m not sure the younger kids know the traditions or the language very well. Younger kids nowadays tend to not be interested.
So does this mean that Orthodoxy remains interesting independently of Russian culture? Do French young kids nowadays think it necessary to speak Russian or visit Russia to be Russian?
I think the traditions are interesting to everyone. Not just Orthodoxy, but also the history of Russia and the culture of Russia. You were there yourself at Bussy when they started to sing around the fire—you saw how they called it kaster. They keep the Russian word the same for fire, kaster, and haven’t changed it to French—even those who are particularly against speaking Russian still use this word. They sit around these campfires year after year and sing these extremely touching songs that were written during the time of the emigration. Their great-great-grandparents would sing those same songs. The songs are their history; it is their way of transmitting history. And even the young kids who don’t speak Russian still sing those songs in Russian from the little book called the Spiridon, in which their ancestors wrote down all of the songs that this community sings.
Do your friends in ACER want to go back?
It depends. Half of the group of leaders you saw are fully French, either because one of their parents is completely French, or just because they were born here. Maybe for some, the Russian language and the Russian works of literature, the songs, the poetry, the history of art, and of course the religion, attract them to visiting. But sadly this is a minority. They sometimes travel to Russia, those who are interested. But I don’t know how to answer the question generally. There are many kids who think that the ACER camp is only for Orthodox religion and really reject any notion of Russianness because it is antiquated, and the direction of the camp has changed over time.
Who is your best friend in the camp?
She also came from Russia at 3 years old. Her mother married a White Russian from a big Russian family who came over after the revolution, and whose family also was very prominent back in Russia. She’s an interesting case because in one way, she’s a part of their White émigré group, but because she was born in Russia, on the other hand she’s also like me who doesn’t fully fit in. Since childhood, she has been hanging out with the kids who were always going to the camps. She feels completely integrated, and yet she returns to Russia quite frequently. Her grandparents from the side of her mom live there, so she goes back every year and loves it. It’s fascinating to talk to her because we have a similar outlook to life. We have a similar past, and both love the Russian culture of today and the pre-revolutionary Russian culture. We wish to return to Russia—even if not always, but just to be there sometimes. It’s as if she knows two subcultures.
How do you think your Russian friends in ACER who do not speak Russian anymore will transmit the Russian language to their children?
They’ll probably speak exclusively in French. I think in Vitizei they’ll speak in Russian more and maybe teach their kids. And this group, even maybe with mistakes, will speak to their kids in Russian. At least it’s more probable that it will be the people in ACER who will speak in French to their children. It’s sad, because there are many who truly love Russia and are going back to study, even if they weren’t born there.
You traveled with ACER to the annual conferences this year. How was it?
Once every three years, there is a big congress that unites Orthodox people from all of Europe, and ACER participates. It’s open to people of all ages, and even the elderly or the youth. Some families go with their children. When people independently decide to go, it’s usually students of about 15 or 16 years old. The organization is great. They reserve us a hotel not far from the conference area. The meeting is very important for many participants because it is an opportunity to meet other Orthodox people, and all of us are in a big group that’s very open to discussion and dialogue about religion.
Was it your first time this year?
Yes, and I really enjoyed it. The conference was interesting, particularly how religion and Orthodoxy is seen through a philosophical view. You meet people who come from all different cities in France who aren’t necessarily from ACER, but they’re nevertheless Orthodox. I went with friends who go to the ACER camp every year, so for us it was very interesting to meet very different people who share our beliefs.
What about the sbori [group meetings] of ACER?
ACER organizes these for children who live in Paris. On Sunday after liturgy (our group of camp leaders are all usually there on Sundays), a team of leaders takes the younger kids on sbori. They take them to the park, to museums, and they’ll create plays, these sort of creative activities. The plays take up most of the year, and at the end of the year in May we present the play in front of all the parents. These young kids go to sbori even from very young age, and through this they come to know Russian culture. What else is special about these sbori during the year is that their experience allows them to then arrive to the summer camps already familiar with ACER and its mission, and of course by then they have found close friends within the program.
Who will be the future keepers of Russian culture? For example, who will be the next four counselors around the campfire, out of 20, who know how to sing the Russian songs?
Well, actually, one of these four is 28 and doesn’t know the language at all. He thinks that the Russian language won’t exist in the camps at all. But once, when we were having this exact discussion with some leaders, my friend intervened and made the point that there will be people in the camp—like her and me. We speak and read in Russian, we have memories in Russian, and we have a more intimate connection with Russia because our relatives are there. And these people exist even among fifth-generation émigrés. Campers, if they like the camp, decide to participate in it for many years and continue its traditions. I think that thanks to these kinds of people, the Russian language and culture continues to survive in the camp, because we transmit this to the kids. But it is important to note that everything is grounded in and based on the Orthodox religion. What I do is also teach the students small songs or poems, which are ingrained in the Russian heritage. It’s very small things, but indeed I hope they carry big function.
Who will be the future Igor Sollogoubs [a camp leader]?
Well, there are very few of those kinds of people like Igor or Kirill [Igor's older brother and former camp director], who know the Russian culture and language so well. There of course are [those], like Alesha [a current counselor], who is interested in Russian and even going to university there next year. In the camp, though, these are exceptions. I have to say I don’t know this French community very well, and many people don’t participate in the camp. Maybe there are others from the immigrations who are just as passionate about Russian, but honestly, I don’t know.
What about you? You were born in Russia. You practice Russian Orthodoxy, and you keep up the language. Will you return to Russia?
I don’t think I’ll return to Russia to live. It would be very interesting to do an internship related to Russia in Paris. I chose comparative literature in French and Russian, and my professional plans are to be a teacher in France. On the one hand, it is Russian literature that attracts me. For instance Dostoevsky, or [Mikhail] Bulgakov—it’s just the expressions that really you can’t transmit in any other language. Dramatic, yes, and it’s a way to understand the world. For this reason, it’s the performance language that is so interesting. It is so rich! To fully understand the Russian language—it is only at that point that you can feel the Russian spirit. It would be very interesting for me to do an academic stint in Russia, and maybe work or volunteer while there.
What about the kids you have mentioned who don’t speak Russian? How do you think they are able to connect to the Russian spirit?
Probably, thanks to Orthodoxy. They grew up in Orthodox traditions and education. Yes, it gives a serious impression on a person’s outlook and his personal life. Sometimes Orthodoxy is an inextricable part of the Russian spirit. For them, it’s Russian spirit in religion.