This paper introduces the notion of “nesting orientalisms” to investigate some of the complexity of the east/west dichotomy which has underlain scholarship on “Orientalism” since the publication of Said's classic polemic, a discourse in which “East,” like “West,” is much more of a project than a place. While geographical boundaries of the “Orient“ shifted throughout history, the concept of “Orient” as “other” has remained more or less unchanged. Moreover, cultures and ideologies tacitly presuppose the valorized dichotomy between east and west, and have incorporated various “essences” into the patterns of representation used to describe them. Implied by this essentialism is that humans and their social or cultural institutions are “governed by determinate natures that inhere in them in the same way that they are supposed to inhere in the entities of the natural world.” Thus, eastern Europe has been commonly associated with “backwardness,” the Balkans with “violence,” India with “idealism” or “mysticism,” while the west has identified itself consistently with the “civilized world.“

When the bolsheviks took power in November 1917, they openly proclaimed their commitment to a secularized Russia. This meant, above all, combatting both the Russian Orthodox Church as an institution and popular Orthodox beliefs and practices.

When the Soviet Union collapsed, Russia and the other successor states lost much of their collective strategic significance for the international community. Russia's role as a new member of the nuclear club is potentially destabilizing but does not present the overriding nuclear threat once posed by the USSR. Although Russia is attempting to reestablish its traditional roles in Eurasia, the Balkans and eastern Europe, its political importance has generally decreased commensurate with the collapse of the Soviet military machine; Russia is important economically only insofar as it is a powerful magnet for western aid and investment. While this perception of gradual marginalization, apparently shared by western diplomats, academics and journalists, may be largely accurate, it is incomplete. It overlooks Russia's potential role as a source of natural resources.

There are two basic and conflicting views among scholars about the malleability of political culture—a group or nation's basic orientations to politics. By one account, culture is a relatively stable, ethnically or spatially specific predictor variable that shapes a nation's political institutions. In Russian studies, this is an approach that has emphasized the connection between the Russian autocratic past and the similarities between tsarist and bolshevik political institutions. Those attracted by this assessment of political culture are prone to think a statist, authoritarian political economy in Russia will be a constant regardless of the collapse of the Soviet system in 1991. The other approach views political culture as being more malleable. It has two variants. One snares with the first approach the assumption that culture is a predictor variable, but emphasizes the effects of secular changes in education and changes in work experience on the distribution of attitudes in a society.

The collapse of state socialism in eastern Europe has led to a proliferation of studies analyzing aspects of democratization throughout the region. Central to many of these studies (particularly those by nonspecialists) is an assumption that postcommunism is but a variation on a larger theme, that is, recent transitions from authoritarian to democratic rule.

The public sphere, according to Habermas, is “in principle inclusive,“ so much so that “however exclusive the public might be in any given instance, it could never close itself off entirely and become consolidated as a clique; for it always understood and found itself immersed within a more inclusive public of all private people.” Further, Habermas specifies that “the public sphere of civil society stood or fell with the principle of universal access,” that any absolute exclusions made it “not a public sphere at all“—for the public sphere “anticipated in principle that all human beings belong to it.“’ The theoretical tension between principles of inclusion and exclusion thus has been essential to the delineation of the public sphere—in its eighteenth-century historical origins and in its twentieth-century academic formulation—and that tension structured the dual aspect of the public sphere, conceived as a phenomenon of social structure and cultural representation.

Russia is embarking upon a new path of historical development. Today, as the country gradually liberates itself from the vestiges of a nondemocratic society, it seems especially propitious to trace the subordination in the 1920s and 1930s of Russia's most important social institutions to a nascent totalitarian regime. The Russian Orthodox Church belongs on the list of such institutions. During its long history it frequently exerted a stabilizing, consolidating effect on the nation, especially during times of national crisis; even during the civil war it maintained a neutral position.

Most western and all Soviet studies of the Stalinist economy have ignored the role played by the stockpiling of grain in the agricultural crisis of the early 1930s. Thus in his major work on Stalinist agriculture published in 1949, Naum Jasny frankly admitted that data were insufficient to reach a conclusion, merely noting that “stocks from former years probably declined during 1932.” Baykov, Dobb, Volin and Nove said nothing about grain stocks. At the time, western commentators did pay some attention to the possibility that the stockpiling of grain exacerbated the famine. In autumn 1931 Japan invaded Manchuria, and in spring 1932 British diplomats reported that Karl Radek had told them that, owing to the threat of war in the far east, enough grain had been stored to supply the army for one year.

In the aftermath of the anti-communist revolutions of 1989-1991, the new governments in eastern Europe faced the herculean task of attempting simultaneously to build market economies and democratic political institutions. Though capitalism and democracy are often considered to be natural allies, in the cases of these new states they sometimes pull against each other. The costs of the economic transition, in terms of growing unemployment, inequality and inflation, may erode support for the new governments and lead to calls for a "strong" government or leadership to cope with economic dislocations.