Since its incorporation into Russia in 2014, Crimea, a peninsula located in the Black Sea, has been a salient part of news reports regarding the continuous Ukrainian conflict. But its strategic position has always made it a centre of military confrontations, notably during the mid-19th century where it was the battleground for many powerful European empires, resulting in the Crimean War of 1854-1856. This war, pitting Britain and her allies against Russia, was the only considerable military dispute within the continent after the Napelonic wars and preceding the First World War. The sheer number of national players, including Britain, France, the Ottomans, Sardinians and Russia transformed this war into a significant international crisis of the Victorian period.
Russian demands for authority over the Orthodox subjects of the Ottoman sultan led to the clash, reflecting a continued disagreement on the jurisdiction of the Russian Orthodox Church in Palestine’s sacred territories. In broader perspective, it was the growing Russian influence in European and the Middle East, to the detriment of Ottoman Empire, that sparked the conflict. This war was absolutely crucial for Britain to counteract the Russian supremacy in the region and preserve equilibrium of power. Even though the geographic representation of Europe remained unchanged post-war, the Crimean War was a turning point and is regarded as the first “modern” war due to the introduction of land mines, steam-powered ships and long-range artillery.
The Crimean War backdrop comes alive in a new book by Gregory Carleton, a Russian studies professor at Tufts University. Carleton delves into the war narratives conveyed to the domestic fronts by two significant eyewitnesses stationed at opposite battle lines. William Howard Russell, an Irish journalist and considered as one of the world’s first professional war correspondents, filed reports for the Times from Crimea whereas the young artillery officer, Lev Tolstoy, later penned literary classics, ‘War and Peace’ (1869) and ‘Anna Karenina’ (1878), marking his eminence as one of the greatest writers of the 19th century.
The concept of examining and juxtaposing the wartime commentaries and observations of these two individuals is quite intriguing, particularly given their stark dissimilarities. Russell was a civilian journalist hailing from Tallaght who resided with commonplace soldiers in Crimea and publicly lambasted the British governmental and military authorities for their mishandling of the conflict. Conversely, Tolstoy was an aristocrat and officer whose writings reflected the grim reality he witnessed, albeit from the vantage of privilege, although he did not share Russell’s liberties. Russell’s Britain, despite its shortcomings, entailed uncensored communication, democratically elected officials and a steadily literate populous. In stark contrast, Tolstoy’s Russia was a repressed autocracy, predominantly agrarian, shackled with serfdom and a minimally literate society.
Interestingly, several parallels can be drawn between the two men. Paramount among these was their depiction of harsh realities that contravened an age-old custom rooted in Homeric models, which portrayed the battlefield as a venerated pedestal of valour, glory and noble sacrifice. Instead, Russell and Tolstoy illustrate vivid scenes of gruesome carnage, primarily around the encircled seaport city of Sevastopol, which bore witness to the most savage bouts of warfare for nearly a year in Crimea.
Tolstoy and Russell’s narratives shed light on the mendacious propaganda peddled by governments, whilst their respective countries found themselves ensnared in the inaugural, albeit far from the final, significant mire of our time. Their writing served as a shocking revelation for readers, unveiling the horrific nature of contemporary warfare and highlighting the immeasurable human contribution to this calamity. The British government’s attempts to obfuscate and refute these truths led to Lord Aberdeen’s resignation as prime minister in the midst of Sevastopol’s ongoing siege.
Tolstoy’s influence was distinct. Labeling Tolstoy a war journalist could be somewhat misleading as he resided in a nation devoid of media freedom. His attempt to establish a military newspaper was rejected by the tsar. Regardless of stringent censorship, Tolstoy succeeded in publishing his anthology of short stories, Sevastopol Sketches, in 1855 while the conflict was still unfolding. He voiced strong objections to the absurdity and arrogance of war, detailing its atrocities with unprecedented frankness. His disdain for his government’s behaviour and deception caused him to relinquish his military position and dedicate his life to literature at the conclusion of the war.
Despite their disparities, both men became pivotal figures in the transformation of war literature as they sought to comprehend and express the events in the Sevastopol trenches. Carleton’s latest book effectively captures this paradigm shift in war depictions and its role in holding governments (especially in democracies) to account.
Professor Robert Gerwarth serves as the head of the UCD Centre for War Studies.