The New Third Rome: Readings of a Russian Nationalist Myth

ibidem-Press, Stuttgart

To Stanisław and Maja

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

On Transliteration, Translations, References and Sources

Author’s preface

Foreword

1. Introduction

Research Aims

Myths and the Invention of Nations

Research on the Third Rome

Theorizing the Modern Uses of a Medieval Idea

Case Studies: Selection, Sources and Method

Structure of the Book

2. Russian Nationalism

Russian National Identity – Crisis and Reinvention

Defining ‘Nation’

Defining ‘Nationalism’

Clarifying ‘Invention’

Russia – Different Nation, Different Nationalism

Imperialism versus Nationalism?

Statist versus Culturalist Nationalism?

(Political) Orthodoxy and Russian Nationalism

A Tentative Typology of Russian Nationalism

3. Myths of a Myth?

What is Political Myth? Definitions

Political Myth as Carrier of Ideology

Political Myth as a Story about a Political Society

The Enlightenment Ideal: Political Myth as Regress

Political Myth as Incitement to Action

Functionalism: Political Myth in the Construction of Societies

Bottici: Political Myth as Process

The Narrative of the Third Rome as Political Myth

Scholarship versus Myth-Making

Mythopoeic or ‘Demythologizing’: Generalist Scholarship

Vladimir Solov’ev –Reconciling East and West

Fedorov and Russia’s Universal Mission

Émigrés Pro & Contra

Florovskii: from Apocalyptic Minor to Chiliastic Major

Berdiaev’s Game of Words

Toynbee and his Critics

Ul’ianov: Religion, not Imperialism; Nation, not Empire

Pipes and Narochnitskaia

Back to the Sources?

Epistle to Misiur’-Munekhin

Epistle to Grand Prince of Muscovy Vasilii Ivanovich

On the Church’s Calamities

‘Purism’ – a Solution?

Escaping the ‘Purist’ Paradigm

4. Vadim Tsymburskii – Island Third Rome

The Rise of a Civilization

Island Russia – Island Third Rome

Prime Symbol

Third Rome – Third International – Kitezh

Hermeneutics of the Apocalypse: the Fourth Rome

After the Apocalypse: the Russian Counter-Reformation

Conclusions

5. Aleksandr Dugin – To Kill for the Third Rome

Rome and Carthage

The Russian Eurasian Empire

Sacral Geography: Dugin the ‘Jungian’ Analyst

The Wheel of the Third Rome: the Sole Modus Vivendi

Dugin’s Symphony of Geopolitics and ‘Theology’

Moscow as Katechon

Messianism

The Catastrophic Schism

Peter I Seals the Fate of the Third Rome – Temporarily

The Transcendental Third Rome

The Bolshevik Restoration of the Third Rome

The Ethics of the Third Rome – Thou Shalt Kill

The Future of the Third Rome

Conclusions

6. Nataliia Narochnitskaia – Inverting the Myth

Narochnitskaia’s Weltanschauung

A Moral View of History

The Idea of Rome and its Perversion in the West

Orthodoxy: True Third Rome

Heresy: False Third Rome

The Geopolitical Dimension: the ‘Eastern Question’

The Use of the Third Rome: Western Temptations

Ahistorical Historiography

Conclusions: Inversion of the Third Rome Myth

7. Egor Kholmogorov – Bridgehead in Heaven

Centripetal Russia

The Third Rome: the Only Empire

Proactive Conservatism: Bonesetting Russia

Restoring Russia’s Future by Sensocratic Means

Russification of a Geopolitical Myth

Autogenous Autocracy – Autogenous Third Rome?

Total Mobilization

Nuclear Bombs and Russian Saints

A Bridgehead in Heaven

Conclusions

8. Conclusions

The Uses of the Political Myth of the Third Rome

Defining who is Russian

Defining the Boundaries of the Russian State as They ‘Should’ Be

Foundation Myth

Continuity: Past – Present – Future – End of Time

Moral Prerogative

The Importance of Orthodoxy

Russian ‘Uniqueness’

A ‘Military Mission’?

The Status of the Political Myth of the Third Rome

Epilogue: Entering the Mainstream

Views on the Ukrainian Crisis

The Myth of the Third Rome and the Ukrainian Crisis

Conclusions

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

This book could not have been completed without the help of others. First of all, I am deeply indebted to my two PhD supervisors, Jostein Børtnes and Pål Kolstø. Without their support, enthusiasm and constructive commentaries from the very outset, it would not have been possible to start work on the project in the first place. Their critical readings of my manuscripts and continuous engagement at all stages have been crucial. I am particularly pleased that Pål Kolstø, who sparked my interest in the field when I was an undergraduate student in the 1990s, has kindly agreed to write the foreword.

I would like to thank the Faculty of Humanities, University of Bergen, for granting me a three-year fellowship and thus providing ideal conditions for conducting research. I am also grateful to my current workplace, the Department of Literature, Area Studies and European Languages (ILOS) at the University of Oslo, with project coordinator Geir Flikke, for making it possible for me to prepare and update the manuscript for book publication.

Special thanks go to Yngvar B. Steinholt for useful and constructive commentaries on the first version of the project outline.

As an otherwise independent PhD student, I had the great advantage of participating in the research project ‘The Borders of Europe’, headed by Lillian Helle, Helge Vidar Holm, Sissel Lægreid and Torgeir Skorgen. Early versions of Chapters 4 and 6 of this book were presented at the project’s international workshops in St Petersburg (June 2008) and Athens (April 2009), respectively. I am grateful to all participants for enlightening discussions and for providing a stimulating and encouraging milieu.

I have also reaped the benefits of two international research projects at the University of Bergen: ‘Landslide of the Norm: Linguistic Liberalization and Literary Development in Russia in the 1920s and 1990s’ (2005–2008) and ‘The Future of Russian: Language Culture in the Era of New Technology’ (2009–2012). While thematically not directly related to my work, these projects have, thanks to seminars, guest lectures and other events, given me the opportunity to discuss aspects of my project with prominent researchers in various fields of Russian studies. It has been inspiring to participate in the activities of these projects, and I am deeply indebted to their leader, Ingunn Lunde, for her enthusiasm and welcoming attitude from the outset.

I would like to thank Dmitrii Sidorov for his keen interest in my project and for fruitful discussions during my visit to Moscow.

I am grateful to Andrzej de Lazari at the University of Łódź for help and support during my stay in Warsaw.

I would also like to thank my Bergen colleagues in general and in the Russian section in particular for making the department a pleasant place to work. Special thanks go to my fellow PhD students Alexander Berdichevsky, Kåre Johan Mjør and Martin Paulsen, and to research fellows Ellen Rutten and Vera Zvereva, with whom I have been sharing an office, for interesting discussions and companionship.

I am grateful to Kyrill Dissanayake for copyediting of the first version of the manuscript and to Susan Høivik for a final language check. Any remaining errors and omissions are, of course, my own.

Last, but by no means least: without the love and support from my wife, Anna, and my parents, Anne Sofie and Johannes, this project could not have been completed. I dedicate this book to my children Stanisław and Maja.

On Transliteration, Translations, References and Sources

All translations of quotations from Russian sources are my own, unless otherwise noted. For transliteration from Cyrillic, I have used a slightly modified version of the Library of Congress standard. Exceptions are not made for personal names (El’tsin, not Yeltsin). On the other hand, names of Russian scholars publishing mainly in a foreign language, whether émigré or not, have been rendered in the most common way (Alexander Yanov, not Aleksandr Ianov). I have made an exception for topographic names with a commonly accepted English version (Moscow) and for Tsar Peter (not Petr) the Great. However, certain inconsistencies have proven unavoidable, and I apologize for any irritation this might cause.

Many of the sources for this study can be found on the Internet. For lengthy articles with only one URL, I have, instead of making unspecified references (e.g. ‘Kholmogorov, 2005e’), chosen to refer to the page. As text sizes may differ, I also supply the total number of pages: ‘Kholmogorov, 2005e, p. 3/10’ means that the information in question is found on page 3 if the printed article amounts to ten pages. For Chapter 5, where the source material consists largely of books (often collections of articles) with an intricate system of cross-referencing, I refer to the paragraph headline, and, if possible, to its URL. For websites with unknown year of publication, I give the year in which I accessed the site in square brackets (e.g. Danilevskii, [2009].

I employ a ‘footnote-author-date’ reference system (e.g. ‘Kholmogorov, 2005, p. 5’). Offering short versions of titles would be likely to create confusion, as several have deceptively similar titles. Narochnitskaia has written both Russia and the Russians in World History and Russia and the Russians in the Contemporary World. Likewise, the words ‘Ostrov Rossiia’ are part of the title of two articles and one book by Tsymburskii, as well as of an interview with him and several articles about him. Furthermore, Dugin’s works exist in several versions. Supplying the year of publication and referring to the bibliography is therefore, in my opinion, the best way of ensuring clarity. For sources with no known authors, I give the entire entry from the bibliography in the first reference, and then the entire title in later mentions.

The four authors analysed in this study have all been affiliated with a multitude of organizations of various sorts, sometimes with strikingly similar names. As a rule, I have translated these names. For less-known entities, the Russian name is given in a footnote. Where the Russian name or acronym is familiar (e.g. KGB), translation is of course superfluous.

An earlier version of Chapter 4 formed the basis of an article published in Nordisk Østforum.[1] Similarly, an earlier short version of Chapter 6 appeared in the anthology The Borders of Europe: Hegemony, Aesthetics and Border Poetics.[2]

Author’s preface

This book is an updated version of my PhD dissertation, which I started writing in 2008, submitted in May 2011 and successfully defended at the University of Bergen, Norway, on 2 December 2011. As the work has progressed, the affiliations of the authors I analyse and the conditions under which they work have kept changing. The potential source material has also kept expanding, as these authors have continued publishing. Even the authorship of Vadim Tsymburskii, who died in 2009, continues to grow, as his influential supporters sponsor and direct the publication of his handwritten manuscripts. For both formal and practical reasons, I limited the source material for the analysis to texts published by 2009. For the purpose of the present book, the authors’ biographies have been updated as of October 2015, and other contextual information has also been revised.

The landscape of Russian intellectual nationalism has certainly evolved, but Vadim Tsymburskii, Aleksandr Dugin, Nataliia Narochnitskaia and Egor Kholmogorov remain important authors. Their access to mainstream media has at times been wider and their general influence has arguably risen, especially in the context of the post-Euromaidan anti-Westernism cultivated by the Kremlin. For instance, the concept of katechon – an idea previously confined to nationalist circles – features in the 2013 Foreign Policy Concept of the Russian Federation,[3] and the annexation of Crimea was accompanied by nationalist rhetoric hitherto unheard of from President Vladimir Putin.[4]

The works of Tsymburskii, Dugin, Narochnitskaia and Kholmogorov have expanded, but their deeper convictions and visions for Russia remain the same in all significant aspects, and their versions of the myth of the Third Rome took shape during the period in question. I am therefore confident that this book in its present form has kept its relevance.

Jardar Østbø

Oslo, November 2015

Foreword

As a master student in the 1980s I came across a Danish book in the university library, Moscow the Third Rome – the Orthodox Church in Russia.[5] I had heard of this peculiar idea that Moscow had inherited the mantle of Constantinople – the second Rome – and was now the third in the line of universal capitals of Christianity. After the fall of the Byzantine Empire, Russia was allegedly the only Christian state left in the world, chosen by God as an instrument for universal salvation. Several putatively serious academic books I had read maintained that this idea of the Third Rome was not only an element in Russian Orthodox soteriology but also a programme for Russian imperialism, an attempt to provide the Russian state with legitimation for territorial expansion. The Danish book, however, proved to deal not with this particular historiosophical idea but with the general history of the Russian church from the earliest times to the present.

The implicit message behind the choice of title – besides obviously being an attempt to find a catchy phrase that would sell – was that the Third Rome myth somehow summarized and encapsulated the entire history of Russian religious-cultural thought. I later found out that this was far from being the case. First set forth in a couple of texts penned in the 1520s by a Russian monk and abbot, Filofei of Pskov, it was apparently first and foremost an attempt to exhort the Russian tsar to behave like a true Christian monarch, lest his realm go the same way as the two first Romes. Considering the devastations which Ivan IV – ‘the Terrible’ – visited upon the Russian lands some decades later, one might say that Filofei was not particularly successful.

On the other hand, Ivan the Terrible did indeed pursue a foreign policy geared towards the enlargement of the Russian state. In 1552 his armies captured Kazan’, the capital of the Volga Tatars, the strongest and most important of the successor states of the Mongol Golden Horde. In the book History of Kazan’, written shortly after this central victory, Ivan’s ideologues tried to justify the campaign against Kazan’ by, inter alia, referring to Moscow’s status as the Third Rome. But as Russian expansion continued throughout the next centuries, the Third Rome concept faded into oblivion, no longer invoked as an argument by the tsar regime. Under Peter the Great at the beginning of the 18th century, the Russian state underwent a thoroughgoing secularization, and religious Messianism had no place in regime legitimation for territorial enlargement.

The Third Rome concept was taken out of mothballs in the 1860s by conservative thinkers seeking to re-establish an Orthodox foundation for Russian tsardom. But after a hiatus of more than 300 years, the historical links to Abbot Filofei’s original exhortation had been largely lost. Thinkers who picked up this idea were at liberty to interpret it much as they saw fit, without being overly concerned about historical accuracy. Taking on a life of its own, the Third Rome idea started on its voyage through intellectual history in ever-new contexts and guises, as a mythologeme that could be put to remarkably diverse uses.

As Jardar Østbø argues in this important book, today the original meaning of Filofei’s missives has been reasonably well reconstructed through meticulous historical, textual and theological research. However, the continued impact of the Third Rome myth on intellectual history is dynamic and ever-expanding, a fascinating topic for research. As Østbø points out, this mythmaking is not restricted to Russian thinkers and quasi-thinkers: and indeed, the author of the Danish textbook I picked up 30 years ago certainly contributed to this endeavour. Historians of ideas today might do well to inquire into the ways in which Western politicians and academics during the Cold War presented the myth of Moscow as the Third Rome as ‘proof’ of Russia’s/the Soviet Union’s allegedly inherent urge for ideologically motivated expansion. Even more important, however, is the afterlife of the Third Rome myth in Russian intellectual debate. Its vibrant usage in new political and ideological conceptions in Russia today is the focus of the current volume.

Ideas of Moscow as the Third Rome attempt to assign an exceptional role for Russia in world. This means that all those Russian thinkers who draw on this idea in their theories and models are nationalists in some way or another, whereas those Russians who regard themselves as liberals and Westernizers generally abhor the very concept, regarding it as not only obscurantist but also potentially dangerous. However, ‘nationalism’ as a category in Russian thought is extremely elastic and encompasses a wide variety of viewpoints and ideas. As Østbø shows, the Third Rome can appear as a building block – even as a girder beam – in different nationalist schemes that in other respects are far removed from each other.

Rather than presenting a panoramic overview of the contemporary Russian nationalist scene – which, with his encyclopaedic knowledge of the topic, he could easily have done – Østbø has chosen to present four writers: Egor Kholmogorov, Nataliia Narochnitskaia, Aleksandr Dugin and Vadim Tsymburskii. This allows him to go into greater depth in each case, moving beyond a mere enumeration of names of people who make use of the Third Rome concept. Each of these four writers is a prominent representative of a typical current in contemporary Russian nationalist debates. With the exception of Tsymburskii, none of them is a professional philosopher working in academia, but that is hardly surprising. In Russian intellectual history, school philosophy has generally been regarded as arid and uninspiring, and virtually all exciting ideas have been produced by dilettantes and amateurs.

Østbø’s central theoretical concept for the understanding of contemporary usages of the idea of Moscow as the Third Rome is political myth. In popular language, ‘myth’ is often equated with ‘fantasy’ or ‘fiction’, but the concept is also used more specifically as an analytical tool in several scholarly disciplines – the history of religion, social anthropology, and psychoanalysis, to mention a few. Each discipline approaches this term differently. Political myths, as Østbø uses the term, denote more or less elaborate narratives about a political society, usually as an incitement to action. As regards Moscow/Third Rome, it often contains recommendations for Russian political leaders for domestic and/or foreign policy, with reference to Russia’s special place in the economy of salvation and in God’s plan for mankind.

As he proceeds, Østbø debunks various ‘myths about the myth’. One of them is that Third Rome theorists are always imperialists. Quite the contrary, he documents that this idea is sometimes harnessed to isolationist schemes, as in the case of Tsymburskii. That being said, most nationalists who employ this idea are indeed starkly and unambiguously imperialist: as Østbø points out, in Russia there is no necessary contradiction between ‘nationalism’ and ‘imperialism’.

Another variable along which Russian Third Rome ideologists differ – besides their attitudes towards expansion versus isolation of the Russian state – is in their attitude towards religion in general and to Orthodoxy in particular. References to God, Providence and the Church may be found in the writings of all four authors, but the function of this religious rhetoric differs considerably. While some Third Rome theorists are clearly sincere, even fervent, believers, in other cases the religious tropes appear to be mostly ornamental. Moreover, those who present themselves as Orthodox believers do not always adhere strictly to church doctrine but may profess a homespun faith which, in the case of Aleksandr Dugin for instance, is mixed with considerable doses of New Age mysticism.

An important common feature in most contemporary Russian Third Rome schemes is their apocalyptic orientation: we are living in eschatological times, with doomsday drawing near, and Russia may be the only force that can keep the entire world from collapsing. Russia has been chosen as an instrument of God to stand up against the Antichrist and give mankind a final chance to repent. Therefore, to say that the idea of Moscow as the Third Rome is about Russia’s special place in world history is only half the story: equally important is Russia’s role beyond history.

While the four Russian writers examined in this book often come up with original and entertaining ideas, logical consistency is not always their strongest quality. In any study in the history of ideas there is a temptation to present ideas and systems of thought as more coherent than what is warranted. Østbø does not fall into that trap. While he points out the contradictions and incongruities in their thinking he also discusses why and how the various writers may have been led into their respective intellectual cul-de-sacs.

What can a study like the one that Østbø presents here tell us about Russian intellectual climate in general? Are the four writers merely voices crying in the wilderness – or do they represent influential trends in the cultural debate? Clearly, neither of the labels associated with them – such as ‘nationalist’ and ‘imperialist’ – is politically correct in Russia today. The current hegemonic discourse, as promoted through the official media and by the country’s political leaders, has inherited from the Soviet era a negative valorization of nationalism (while ‘patriotism’ is extolled as a civic duty). This does not mean, however, that Østbø’s four writers have been consigned to an intellectual ghetto. On the contrary, three of them – all except the late Tsymburskii – are frequent guests on Russian talk shows and TV debates and household names for the reading Russian public, even for those who by no means identify with their views. Also, opinion polls repeatedly show that large segments of the Russian public express typically nationalist viewpoints on issues like migration, the role of the minorities in politics and society, multi-ethnic neighbourhoods and marriages, and so on.[6] Therefore, nationalists like those studied by Østbø have a larger potential audience than one might perhaps expect.

A final additional value of this book is its contribution to the study of political myths in general. Østbø elegantly shows how the link between an original source and contemporary mythmaking may be quite tenuous. One fascinating aspect of the contemporary development of the Third Rome in Russian political-religious debates is the remarkable creativity of the mythmakers, as well as their occasional total disregard for historical facts.

Professor Pål Kolstø

University of Oslo

1. Introduction

The idea of Russia as the Third Rome has fascinated scholars and writers for at least a century and a half. The oldest preserved expression of the idea dates back to the 16th century. In overviews of Russian history, it is normally attributed to Filofei, a monk from Pskov, who in 1511 allegedly wrote to Tsar Vasilii III (ruled 1505–1533):

The church of ancient Rome fell because of the Apollinarian heresy, as to the second Rome – the Church of Constantinople – it has been hewn by the axes of the Hagarenes. But this third, new Rome, the Universal Apostolic Church under thy mighty rule radiates forth the Orthodox Christian faith to the ends of the earth more brightly than the sun […]. In all the universe thou art the only Tsar of Christians […]. Hear me, pious Tsar, all Christian kingdoms have converged in thine alone. Two Romes have fallen, a third stands, a fourth there shall not be […].[7]

Specialist scholars increasingly regard the idea of the Third Rome as strictly religious – having little to do with politics and nothing to do with expansionism. On the other hand, several ‘generalist’ historians and writers have interpreted the idea as an expression of what they see as the perennial imperialist/expansionist ‘nature’ of the Russian nation (see Chapter 3). Thus, historian Philip Longworth characterizes the idea of the Third Rome as a ‘myth’ that ‘was to provide the state with a religious justification for uniting not just the Russians but all Orthodox Christians, whether in Russia, Ukraine, the Balkans or the Levant.’[8] I will argue that the characterization of Filofei’s idea in itself as an expansionist/ imperialist myth is erroneous. On the other hand, in today’s Russia, there does exist a myth of the Third Rome. It fulfils important functions in many nationalist intellectuals’ constructed images of Russia, as it revolves around crucial questions of Russian national identity. The present volume is dedicated to the study of this myth.

Research Aims

The purpose of this study is twofold. The first is, by way of four case studies, to reconstruct and interpret the meaning of the present-day myth(s) of the Third Rome in the works of leading intellectual Russian nationalists. To this end, I develop a theoretical basis different from that of earlier research on the Third Rome. Here I seek to steer clear of the generalizations often committed by non-specialists, while also avoiding the distinction often implied by some specialists, between ‘correct’ reference to or accounts of the notion of the Third Rome on the one hand, and its ‘misuse’ for political purposes on the other.

By drawing on theories of political myth, I locate the myth not in medieval Muscovy, but in contemporary Russia: in nationalists’ references to and explanations of the notion of the Third Rome. In the specific circumstances that followed the dissolution of the Soviet Union, this religious concept, devised by a monk in the Middle Ages, has become an important myth for Russian nationalist intellectuals. Taking as a theoretical prerequisite that a myth can have no ‘essence’ or meaning outside its use, I show how the myth of the Third Rome has not found one final form, but exists in several versions. It is neither inherently imperialist (whether religious or secular) nor inherently non-imperialist (whether religious or secular). The four authors chosen for closer study are representatives of religious imperialism, secular imperialism, religious ‘non-imperialism’, and secular ‘non-imperialism’, respectively.

The second (and closely related) purpose of this study is to analyse the myth of the Third Rome as a key element in the ‘reinvention’ of Russia in the post-Soviet context. I use the myth of the Third Rome in the writings of nationalists an entry point for scrutinizing their ideologies and their visions for Russia. As students of this myth we need to rid ourselves of the primordialist view that the notion of the Third Rome has a fixed meaning descriptive of some perennial ‘Russian-ness’. Reference to the Third Rome in itself is no litmus test proving that the author is necessarily an imperialist (a common interpretation) and/or that s/he necessarily regards the Russian nation as chosen by God. That being said, we should not assume that such references may not be revealing. Quite the converse: the way the notion is used, or, within my theoretical framework, the kind of myth told, is highly indicative of the given author’s kind of nationalism and her/his vision for Russia.

Myths and the Invention of Nations

Nationalists’ visions of Russia are more than political goals. The authors studied here are active and prominent participants in the debate on Russian national identity, actively seeking to shape the understanding of what Russia ‘really’ is. In other words, they contribute to the ‘reinvention’ of Russia after the fall of the Soviet Union. Rejecting the primordialist view of the nation, I will not go to the other extreme and claim that nations are invented ‘from scratch’ and that any myths may assist this invention by creating a feeling of community. Modern nations are to a certain extent the results of invention by the elite, but this process is not solely dependent on the (material) interests of the elites. To be of use in the invention of a nation, myths must have some resonance; they must in some way or another deal with themes and questions that are perceived as important. The political myth of the Third Rome is such a myth. Occupying a central place in the works of these writers and dealing with, among other things, the core issues of Russia’s territorial status and the status of Orthodoxy, it plays a key role in the ‘reinvention’ of Russia.

Research on the Third Rome

The literature on the Third Rome is vast. Treatment of the idea as it emerged in the 16th century seems almost compulsory in overviews of Russian history. I offer a summary of some of these accounts in Chapter 3, but it would be impossible to be exhaustive: like Daniel Rowland, I have yet to see a Russian history textbook that does not mention the Third Rome.[9] ‘Generalist’ treatment of this idea is often based on a limited number of secondary sources; in many works, the idea has been the basis of sweeping generalizations.[10]

On the other hand, there is an enormous volume of research literature on the medieval manuscripts that contain the oldest preserved expressions of the idea. The first monograph, authored by Vasilii Malinin, was published in 1901.[11] Malinin saw the idea as politically significant, and claimed that it was quickly adopted by the rulers:

[The theory] represented the general meaning of the age so correctly and assessed the mood of Filofei’s contemporaries in such a refined way that it soon was adapted by government circles and found its way into state documents.[12]

Even if Malinin himself also wrote at length about the eschatological meaning of the idea of the Third Rome, his successors studied this to a lesser degree. For a long time, scholars studied the manuscripts as provided by Malinin. ‘New’ manuscripts were not brought in, and the dating of the ‘old’ ones was not questioned.[13]

In the 1970s, A.L. Gol’dberg challenged Malinin’s dating and attribution of the manuscripts, paving the way for an interpretation of the idea of the Third Rome as less political and more religious/eschatological than previously assumed.[14] Sinitsyna’s seminal 1998 monograph largely confirms Gol’dberg’s theses and elaborates further on them (a summary of the most important conclusions is given in Chapter 3).

Between the generalist historians’ often superficial treatment and the minute textological work by medievalists there is a lacuna to be filled. Post-Soviet Russia has seen a remarkable resurgence of the idea in (both publicistic and more academic) writings