The Inevitable Fate of the Forest-Steppe, or The Hidden Springs of History. Column for Computerra #118

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Dmytro Shabanov
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Six Traditional Ecological Niches and Six Social Worlds of Traditional Human Cultures The Inevitable Fate of the Forest-Steppe, or Hidden Springs of History Philosophical Literacy: What We Know, What We Will Never Know, and in Which Cases We Are Forced to Accept Presumptions

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Shall we continue? We shall! And before proceeding to discuss an example of the interaction between two cultures shaped by two different modes of human social life, I will address one objection raised regarding the two preceding columns (on the evolution of human niches and on the six worlds of traditional societies). After that, we will examine the history of the struggle between two ways of life through an example drawn from a territory I know well. Here is what my esteemed colleague — a recognised authority in one of the fields of biology — wrote to me regarding the previous column. "The main point. I believe there is no correspondence between 'mode of food acquisition — culture (in your sense).' Look at the diversity of culture (daily life + business relations + spirituality) among, say, the pastoralists of Central Asia (Przhevalsky and other great spies wrote beautifully about this). The diversity is enormous! If you wish to speak on this subject rigorously, you need to define your concepts, and above all the invariant (the degree and criteria of commonality) that allows you to assign all pastoralists (farmers, gatherers, etc.) to a single culture. Otherwise everything becomes fluid, and the concept of niche becomes just as non-operational as it is in ecology. In short, as written, I cannot accept it — though I understand that the idea is provocatively seductive: reducing diversity to a small number of variants." I can only agree with what has been said. There is no sharp diversity of culture types, and there are no clearly delineated types of ecological niches (modes of environmental relationship) for human groups. There is, however, a factor significant for describing such groups and their cultures. I consider the connection between niche characteristics and culture to be important. I propose that Palaeolithic and Neolithic niches (and cultures) form six diffuse clusters. Their typical representatives would find it extremely difficult to understand one another; they would be as if living in different social worlds. But naturally, the small number of variants I have described in no way exhausts the full diversity of cultures. Do you know how analysis of variance works? We study a collection of objects exhibiting variability in some characteristic. We divide this collection into groups according to some criterion. If the variability within each group proves to be substantially smaller than the original, we understand that the criterion we used significantly influences the characteristic under study. Objects assigned to the same group are by no means identical: within the group there remains what analysis of variance calls "error," which includes, among other things, expressions of the individuality of the objects being compared. Note that individuality may be a property not only of an individual (an individual in the usual sense of the word), but also of a group — including a population. I will mention the individuality of school classes and university student cohorts. In every class, every cohort, there are strong and weak pupils and students. Random factors lead to different group compositions. Yet in the course of the formation of group individuality, these differences may be amplified many times over. One of the powerful factors in the formation of group individuality is the mechanism of "We are not like them!" I believe this mechanism has played an important role in human history. Incidentally, its operation contributed to the further segregation of social worlds. Can I hope that the identification of niches in humans will prove more precise and operational than in "general" (non-human) ecology? Can one hope that the cultural differences influenced by this differentiation of niches will be no less distinct? No, of course not. But this does not negate statistical regularities. These regularities manifest themselves through the specifics of local, individual circumstances. If you wish, they may be regarded as the hidden springs of the historical process. At any given moment, particular circumstances may overcome the action of such hidden springs, but in time they will assert themselves again. To illustrate this idea, I will choose an example geographically close to me. I should emphasise: I am not a historian, and my historical excursions are of an amateur character. Quite recently, while telling Russian colleagues about Kharkiv and the Kharkiv region, I encountered their puzzlement: "But why do almost all your cities date no earlier than the seventeenth century? You have such favourable living conditions there!" Favourable indeed — more so than, say, in the Sumy or Chernihiv regions situated to the north. Yet for some reason, to the north, in Polissia, there are many towns, even small ones, with a millennium of history, while in the Kharkiv region — in the Forest-Steppe — there are none. Let me run through Wikipedia and select city founding dates: Kharkiv — 1654, Lozova — 1869, Kupyansk — 1655, Izium — 1685, Chuhuiv — 1533–1584, Balakliya — 1663, Vovchansk — 1674, Bohodukhiv — 1662, Zmiyiv — 1604, Barvinkove — 1653. There are cities older than Kharkiv — primarily Chuhuiv and Zmiyiv, situated on the Siverskyi Donets — but even their age is not particularly great. Why? After all, people lived here from time immemorial. None of this is accidental. Since what I am about to discuss is connected in a certain way with the Siverskyi Donets, I will begin with a panoramic photograph taken by Dmytro Bukhanovskyi from the high right bank of that river at the biological research station of Kharkiv University in Haidary, near Zmiyiv. [IMG_1] Early morning. The river floodplain is still shrouded in mist. The elevated right bank is covered with natural oak forests; the low-lying left bank is partly under cultivation, partly planted with pine. This is the forest-steppe. What is the forest-steppe? It is a natural zone where both forest and steppe plant communities prove relatively stable. In general, the type of vegetation is regulated by climate — primarily by temperature and moisture. Forest requires far more water than steppe. To the north of the forest-steppe there is more precipitation and lower temperatures, providing enough moisture for forests to exist. To the south it is drier and warmer: water is scarce to begin with, and high temperatures only intensify its evaporation. There the steppes were distributed (or more precisely, used to be: today they are almost entirely ploughed up). In the forest-steppe, a paradoxical situation arises, connected with the fact that forest retains water better than steppe. If a given area supports forest, it binds sufficient water for trees to persist there. If a steppe patch occupies the same space, its water losses are greater, and only grasses can subsist on the available moisture. And one must also account for the fact that no locality is homogeneous. On slopes water is retained less well; in some places conditions favour infiltration into underground horizons, while elsewhere soils rest on good aquicludes. These and many other local conditions increase the mosaic character of the forest-steppe. With drying and warming of the climate, those forest patches that are on the edge of desiccation will begin to retreat; if the climate becomes moister and cooler, in some places the steppe will begin to lose ground to forest. But overall, across the forest-steppe territory, both types of plant communities can successfully sustain themselves. And in some places — as in the photograph — Forest and Steppe meet most distinctly. The forest-steppe has a good climate and fertile soils. People settled here from ancient times: first hunters, and later farmers and pastoralists. Two different ecosystem types (forest and steppe, closed and open) corresponded to two types of human niches (agriculturalists and nomads). Each type had its own cultural characteristics. The principal theme of the region's history proved to be the conflict between forest dwellers and steppe dwellers. The ecological regularities arising from the characteristics of the ecological niches of farmers and nomads turned out to be the hidden springs of that history. They predetermined both the temporary triumph of the representatives of one culture and the ultimate victory of the side that at first appeared the weaker. The steppe has good soils, but droughts are frequent, and cultivators face instability of harvest. On the other hand, the steppe is an almost unbroken pasture, ideally suited to animal husbandry. The characteristic mode of life is to wander the broad steppe with herds. The dwellings of nomads are collapsible hide tents. The basis of society is the family, with common ownership of livestock. The family migrates, interacts with other families, and belongs to tribes with complex structures. Nomads are characterised by a complex and dynamic inter-tribal politics. In the forest there is nowhere to wander with herds, but the harvest is more reliable. One need only clear a field. Forest is felled, the remnants of trees are burned, and for a certain period the field rewards the farmer's efforts a hundredfold. Then the fertility of the soil declines, and a new plot must be cleared. Permanent timber dwellings are characteristic of this culture. Fields are cleared in the vicinity of the settlement. A field can only be maintained by a community bound tightly internally, though weakly connected to other communities. The basic unit of lower-level structure may even be larger than that of the steppe dwellers, but its links with analogous units are weaker. The difference in ecological niches generates a difference in population structure and inevitably reflects itself in culture. Even nomads and farmers linked by common ancestry will regard each other negatively. The moral order of each society does not extend to outsiders. Incidentally, the biblical story of Cain and Abel (sons of Adam and Eve) reflects this conflict. Cain, the elder brother, was a farmer and killed Abel — a herdsman. We often think of conflicts between forest peoples and steppe peoples as clashes between different nations differing in genealogy. Of course, such differences exist. The niche characteristics typical of each people determined the pattern of their settlement. But the ethnic composition changed over time, while the defining features of the mode of life remained constant. On the territory I am discussing, both Goths and Slavs tilled the soil. The composition of the nomads, owing to their mobility, was more variegated. If I am not mistaken, the region saw Scythians, Sarmatians, Pechenegs, Cumans, and Tatars. Peoples who came into contact with one another and warred with one another inevitably intermingled — and yet remained themselves. Nomads are mobile. Their form of warfare is the raid. A group assembles, appears swiftly, plunders, and withdraws. Naturally, the steppe dwellers would strike the forest dwellers and keep them deep within the wooded massifs. The forest-steppe was a no man's land, subject to nomadic raids. Settled inhabitants could not assemble in time, and each community would defend itself alone. Why is the pig the favourite animal of Ukrainians? In relatively recent times the steppe dwellers professed Islam, did not eat pork, and did not take pigs. The characteristic form of warfare for forest dwellers is the campaign. When war was declared, each community furnished and provisioned a certain number of fighters who set out for the military enterprise. Often, by the time the host reached the nomads, the latter had broken camp and departed. At times the farmers would muster such a force that it could reach the heart of the nomads' country and destroy their capital. Then everything would start over. On the territory I am discussing, cities of both farmers and nomads arose as early as the Early Middle Ages. Alas, their history was cut short. The principal cause was the “mopping-up” operation carried out in the thirteenth century by the army of Batu Khan, which left behind it the Wild Field. Yet ultimately, even relations with the Mongols form part of the interaction with nomadic steppe peoples. For quite a long time the nomads prevailed in the conflict between nomads and farmers. But the development of technology and population growth changed the situation. Most importantly, farmers — who subsist primarily on plant produce — can sustain a far greater population density (and consequently greater economic power and military strength) than pastoralists. Their staple food is plant produce; the food of pastoralists must be processed by livestock — with inevitable losses, by virtue of the second law of thermodynamics. For this reason, the total energy flow that nomadic populations can channel through themselves proves smaller than in the case of farming populations. How does this manifest historically? In the growth of the "forest," agricultural civilisation. In the settlements of the farmers, militia units were formed (later called Cossacks) to guard the frontiers and muster at alarm. The word "Cossacks" carries different meanings. One of them is the miscellaneous fugitive rabble who settled on no man's lands. Within the bands of such rabble, conditions arose for the formation of a specific form of democracy. Later this word was also applied to designate armed farmers — agriculturalists who combined the tilling of the land with its defence against nomadic raids. In order to protect the main body of their people from raids, forward posts were created — fortified cities arranged in a defensive line. One of the important frontier lines ran along the Siverskyi Donets. Vovchansk, Chuhuiv, Zmiyiv, Izium — strong points on the forest-steppe boundary. After the sustained displacement of the nomads to the south, Sloboda (so named because it was initially no man's land) Ukraine began to be settled by migrants from various Ukrainian and Russian regions. Incidentally, this is precisely why both Russian and Ukrainian populations here are indigenous. Do you know why the village near which the biological research station stands is called Haidary? The version I have heard (perhaps merely a folk tale) is as follows. When a Cossack patrol rode out through the territory, it had to be on guard against ambushes. One or two riders went ahead, a white cloth tied to the shaft of a lance. The butt of the lance rested in the stirrup; as the rider moved, the cloth swayed (in Ukrainian: "hoidalasia"), sending a visual signal of safety. Such Cossacks in the vanguard were called "hoydary" or "haidary." If the vanguard came under attack, or if a "haidar" was alarmed and took his lance in hand, levelling it forward, the rhythmic motion of the cloth would cease. The main Cossack garrison was stationed in Zmiyiv — that same city on the banks of the Siverskyi Donets that is older than Kharkiv — while in the vicinity of what is now the university biological research station, on the hill in Haidary, their vanguard was stationed. From there they surveyed the steppe, watching for rising dust from the hooves of the nomads' horses. The photograph I have included in this column was taken from such a vantage point. The final victory over the old enemy came at the end of the eighteenth century, under Catherine. The last outpost of nomadic culture and statehood was the well-isolated Crimea. Stalin's deportation of the Crimean Tatars is the delayed echo of the struggle with the historical enemy — a belated killing of Abel by Cain. Oh, how many details did not fit into this column... Have I written anything essentially new here? No (assuming I have not made any historical blunders). But two points I wish to emphasise in particular. First: the history of Sloboda Ukraine is partly programmed by the differences between the forest and steppe niches available to members of traditional cultures. These differences grow from the specific character of the "mode of food acquisition," in the words of my colleague. Second: we view the history of the struggle between two cultures by identifying with one of them — the victorious one; the perspective from the losing culture's side would, in all likelihood, be quite different. Convincing?

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Dmytro Shabanov
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Six Traditional Ecological Niches and Six Social Worlds of Traditional Human Cultures The Inevitable Fate of the Forest-Steppe, or Hidden Springs of History Philosophical Literacy: What We Know, What We Will Never Know, and in Which Cases We Are Forced to Accept Presumptions

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