Urban Protest

ibidem-Press, Stuttgart

Contents

Abbreviations

A Note on Language

Foreword by Julie Wilhelmsen

Preface

1 Starting Point

Part I

2 Space in Context

2.1 Complexities of Urban Contention

2.1.1 Form

2.1.2 Motivation

2.1.3 Waves

2.2 Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia

2.3 Relevance

3 Mapping the Field

3.1 Protests

3.1.1 Repertoires

3.1.2 Nonviolent Contention

3.1.3 Colour Revolutions

3.1.4 Non-spatial Factors

3.2 Space

3.2.1 Public Space

3.2.2 Physical Space

3.2.3 Contested Spaces

3.3 The Gap

4 Definitions and Research Questions

4.1 What Is a Mass Protest?

4.2 What Is Urban Public Space?

4.3 Research Questions

5 Theorising and Development

5.1 Approaches to Theorising

5.1.1 Field Work

5.1.2 Respondents

5.1.3 Mapping

5.2 Ethical Considerations

5.2.1 Interview Ethics

5.2.2 Practical Utility

5.3 Geographical Determinism

5.4 Conception

5.4.1 M.A. Thesis

5.4.2 PhD Proposal

5.5 Theorising

5.5.1 Prestudy

5.5.2 Formulating a Theory

5.5.3 Transitional Study

5.6 Causal Chains

5.7 Main Study

5.8 Post-test Theorising

6 Variables and Methodology

6.1 Independent Variables

6.1.1 Perceived Elements

6.1.2 Physical Elements

6.1.3 Social Elements

6.2 Intermediary Variables

6.2.1 Spatial Qualities

6.2.2 The Political Environment

6.3 Dependent Variables

6.3.1 Emergence

6.3.2 Realisation

6.3.3 Impact

Part II

7 Prestudy

7.1 Physical Space

7.1.1 Spatial and Urban History

7.1.2 Daily Use

7.1.3 Protest Space

7.2 Symbolic Value

7.2.1 25 Years of Protest

7.3 Function

7.4 Conclusions

8 Transitional Study

8.1 A Spatial Perspective

8.2 Belarusian Protests from Glasnost’ to Lukashenka

8.3 Perceived elements

8.3.1 October Square

8.3.2 Independence Square

8.4 Social Elements

8.4.1 The Political Centre

8.4.2 The People’s Centre

8.4.3 Independence Square

8.4.4 October Square

8.5 Physical Elements

8.5.1 October Square and Ploshcha 2006

8.5.2 Independence Square and Ploshcha 2010

8.6 Conclusions

9 Main Study

9.1 Towards a Spatial Perspective

9.1.1 Spatial Elements

9.1.2 Spatial Qualities and the Political Environment

9.1.3 Protest Areas

9.2 Moscow, Swamp Square and the March of Millions

9.2.1 The Political Environment of Moscow

9.2.2 Public Spaces in Moscow

9.2.3 The Elements

9.2.4 Spatial Qualities

9.2.5 Emergence, Realization, Impact

9.3 Conclusions

Part III

10 To Paris and Beyond

10.1 Republic Square and the Yellow Vests

10.1.1 Applying the Model

10.2 Summary and Conclusions

10.2.1 “So what?”

10.2.2 Limitations

10.3 Moving On

References

Abbreviations

CAT Collective Action Theory

DOC Dynamics Of Contention

NESH National Committee for Research Ethics in the Social Sciences and the Humanities (Norway)

OWS Occupy Wall Street

POS Political Opportunity Structure theory

PRT Prospect-Refuge Theory

PT Process Tracing

RCT Rational Choice Theory

RMP Resource Mobilisation Perspective

ROC Repertoire Of Contention

RSCPR Russian Space: Concepts, Practices, Representations

SCM Structure-Cognitive Model

A Note on Language

This book describes events, people, and places mainly from three Eastern Slavic countries: Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia. Each of these countries uses the Cyrillic script and has its own national language, as well as linguistic variations encompassing proper nouns: yet, for historical reasons, Russian has become the lingua franca of the region. The long history of Russian hegemony and long periods of russification have also led to the widespread international adoption of Russian forms for Ukrainian and Belarusian proper nouns. For these reasons, the Ukrainian capital is usually known as Kiev (from Rus. Киев), rather than Kyiv (from Ukr. Київ). Likewise, the Belarusian president is known as Lukashenko (Rus.: Лукашенко), not Lukashenka (Bel.: Лукашенка); while the conflict region in Eastern Ukraine is known as Donbass (Russian: Донбасс), not Donbas (Ukrainian: Донбас). Conversely, some proper nouns are known by their national variants, as is the case with the current Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyi (Ukr.: Володимир Зеленський), not Vladimir Zelenskii (Rus.: Владимир Зеленский), and Hrodna for the town in Western Belarus (Bel.: Гродна), rather than Grodno (Rus.: Гродно).

Scholars are often advised to use the transliterations most predominant in English, as these are most recognisable to the majority of readers. Yet such a language policy often leads to inconsistencies, and readers asking why some proper nouns are based on the Russian forms while others are not. As far as I can see, there are only two solutions to this problem. Either the scholar consistently and exclusively transliterates from the relevant Russian forms; or, conversely, they transliterate all proper nouns from the local languages. The former solution is often used because it is more consistent with the predominant name forms in English. (Another reason might be that most scholars within the field have a level of proficiency in Russian, but limited knowledge of the other two languages). The choice of Russian could additionally be justified by the large prevalence of Russophone speakers in all three countries. Although there is a precedent for the former solution in East Slavic area studies, the latter is not unheard-of, and scholars such as the Canadian historian David R. Marples (2004) and the British political scientist Taras Kuzio (2005) use the national variants of proper nouns.

I have chosen the latter option. Thus, the transliterations of proper nouns found in this book reflect their national origins. The reader will also encounter proper nouns that are less frequently used, such as Kyiv and Lukashenka (rather than Kiev and Lukashenko). However, I have retained the familiar variants of some terms and proper nouns in order to avoid confusion (e.g. Kievan Rus’, not Kievskaia Rus’ from Rus. Киевская Русь; or Kyivs’ka Rus’ from Ukr. Київська Русь).

I have used the ALA-LC Romanisation tables from The Library of Congress for all Ukrainian, Belarusian, and Russian words, with some exceptions. I have avoided confusing typographic ligatures and diacritical marks, such as i͡e for the Russian е; and ï for the Ukrainian ї. Similarly, I have kept some internationally recognised variants that are too omnipresent to change: for example, the former Russian president is Boris Yeltsin rather than Ieltsin (or, with ligatures, I͡Elt͡sin).

To complicate the matter further, in Belarus, there are three written languages: Russian and Belarusian, both of which are official languages, and the classic Belarusian Tarashkevitsa. The name of the president could be transliterated as Aleksandr Lukashenko (Russian); Aliaksandr Lukashenka (Belarusian); and Aliaksandar Lukashenka (Belarusian Tarashkevitsa). I use the official Belarusian (Aliaksandr) for proper nouns. Please note that the Belarusian letter ў is transliterated as w, not u.

For consistency’s sake, I use the translated forms of place names in this book (i.e. October Square, not Kastrychnitskaia). A notable exception is Maidan (Ukr.: square), which is used both instead of the longer original (Maidan Nezalezhnosti) and the translation (Independence Square), the reason being that Maidan has become a widely recognised word in the West, even among non-Slavists.

All translations are my own unless stated otherwise.

Foreword

What impact does the physical space in which protesters raise their grievances have on their success or failure in achieving their goals? This is the intriguing question that Arve Hansen raises, and to which this book provides a theoretically, methodologically, and empirically sophisticated answer. It elaborates a theoretical model to explore the causal connections between urban public space and mass protests. As such, it is not only a valuable but also a major contribution to the growing research on mass protests and urban space.

This book also presents and analyses three of the most acute cases of urban protest today, namely those of Kyiv, Minsk, and Moscow. The combination of thematic focus and empirical case studies can, therefore, hardly be more timely. A wave of protest movements is rolling across what we refer to as the ‘former Soviet space’. Judging by recent events, it is not going to stop any time soon; even in Russia, where enormous and costly efforts have been made to create ‘stability’ under President Putin. The intense, at times highly simplistic public debate around these events makes this distinctly scholarly contribution particularly welcome. The book gives us details and specifics about the very different social and physical spaces of Kyiv, Minsk, and Moscow, despite their common Soviet heritage.

This analysis is built on the results of the author’s extensive field work: interviews as well as personal observations, all based in Hansen’s thorough knowledge of all three East Slavic languages and cultures and his experience of living in Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine. Careful attention is paid to the history and symbolic value of the urban spaces under analysis. The meticulous circuit of observing, noting, mapping, and interviewing is particularly commendable, resulting as it does in clear visual and textual presentations of the protest spaces in Kyiv, Minsk, and Moscow.

Hansen’s approach to the theoretical debate on protest, and the core terms within it, is also nuanced and attentive to detail. He crafts his definitions of mass protest and urban public space, as well as his theoretical model, using the cases at hand and in close consultation with the extant literature. The outcome is an excellent piece of academic handiwork. The process of developing the theoretical model over time, guided by empirical findings in the individual case studies, is presented clearly and well. Reading this book will prove highly instructive for students who wish to learn how to combine in-depth empirical work with theory development.

Examining the theoretical debate on protest, Hansen identifies a lack of attention in the literature to the connection between space and protest. Rightly pointing out the dangers of geographical determinism, he sets himself the ambitious aim of providing the systematic and generalised approach to space and protest that is missing. A comprehensive explanation of urban protest will have to include a wider set of social variables beyond those investigated in this book, which is clearly part of a broader, evolving research agenda under development. However, by the end of the book, Hansen has convincingly demonstrated the importance of geographical space and how it contributes to the emergence, realisation, and impact of protests. The spatial perspective also promises a fruitful application to cases beyond the former Soviet space.

Julie Wilhelmsen

Senior Research FellowNorwegian Institute of International Affairs

Preface

This book is based on my doctoral thesis, Mass Protests from a Spatial Perspective: Discontent and Urban Public Space in Kyiv, Minsk, and Moscow (Hansen 2020), which I defended and published in March 2020 at UiT: the Arctic University of Norway.

The question that spurred me to write my thesis—and, subsequently, this book—was how mass protests are affected by urban public space.

Based on field work in Eastern Europe spanning several years and interviews with demonstrators, protest organisers, and observers, I gradually developed an approach to assess the enabling and constraining effects of urban public spaces on public protest. I call this model the spatial perspective on mass protests; or the spatial perspective, for short.

The model was tested and refined by looking closely at three case studies, each of which served as the basis for an academic article. These case studies investigate protest spaces in three different cities—Kyiv, Minsk, and Moscow—and reflect three stages in the development of the spatial perspective. My thesis originally consisted of the three articles mentioned here, framed by seven introductory chapters.

The main difference between the thesis and the book you are now reading is that the three articles have here been integrated as chapters in their own right, for improved readability.

In addition, feedback from the doctoral committee has been incorporated where required, and some additional minor tweaks have been made to the case studies. However, the arguments and structure of the original articles have been kept largely unchanged. The main advantage of this approach is that it more clearly shows how the spatial perspective was developed.

One possible drawback of keeping the article-based chapters intact is that it has prevented me from updating some key information: The president of Ukraine, for instance, is no longer Petro Poroshenko, as stated in the first case study from 2016. The opposition in Minsk of 2020 is no longer coloured by its geopolitical views to the extent it was at the time of publishing the second case study in 2017. And Moscow, described in the third case study from 2019, is no longer as cluttered by fences and building projects as it was when I conducted field work in the city.

The purpose of these chapters is not, however, to describe current events—such information may be found elsewhere—but to illuminate the importance of urban protest, and to help researchers across a range of academic disciplines to understand this largely neglected element of societal contention. I believe the minor issues I have mentioned here will not distract the reader from the main subject and message of the book. In any case, it is necessary to summarise in brief the key events that have taken place since I wrote my original thesis.

Since the publication of Mass Protests from a Spatial Perspective, several important things have happened in the post-Soviet part of the world, demonstrating that a spatial perspective is relevant and important for our understanding of protest.

In the far eastern region of Russia, Khabarovsk Krai, for example, thousands of people have regularly gathered on Lenin Square since July 2020 to demonstrate against the Russian regime and the imprisonment of former governor Sergei Frugal (Flikke 2020, 16–18). The contestation between demonstrators and police over who controls Lenin Square shows that this particular space is symbolically important, at least for the parties involved.

Lenin Square has also contributed to producing powerful imagery for the national and regional opposition. A movement against the Russian leadership, able to fill one of the largest urban squares in Russia with people (the square’s size is second only to Red Square in Moscow), has the potential to reduce Kremlin influence over the Far East.

The protests have now spread from Khabarovsk to other Siberian cities, including Novosibirsk, Irkutsk, Krasnoyarsk, Vladivostok, and Omsk (Gladkikh and Ievstafieva 2020; Taiga.info 2020), and there have even been demonstrations of support for the Siberian dissenters in St. Petersburg and Moscow (BBC Russian Service 2020a). Increasingly, the authorities have begun resorting to violence in order to supress the movement (BBC Russian Service 2020b), but the protesters show few signs of stopping.

Another mass movement for change is currently underway in Belarus, on the borderland between Russia and the EU. Here, a wave of urban contention has struck every major city and most towns across the republic, beginning well before the presidential elections of 9 August 2020. Angered by election fraud and spurred on by the relentless brutality of government agencies, hundreds of thousands of Belarusians have aimed at—and in many cases succeeded in—occupying and appropriating urban spaces that have long been associated with President Aliaksandr Lukashenka. This has happened in spite of presidential control over a powerful army of law enforcement agencies, ready to use violence to suppress dissent.

In the capital, Minsk, protesters are marking “their” territories with the white-red-white flag of the opposition and tying ribbons wherever they can. An open space on Charviakova Street, outside the city centre, has even been turned into the Square of Changes (Bel.: Ploshcha peramen), complete with opposition flags, a mural to “the DJs of change”, and regular evening concerts (Boguslavskaia 2020). The struggle over the Belarusian presidency is an urban conflict in more than one sense.

Finally, in Kyrgyzstan, mass protests erupted on Ala-Too Square in the capital Bishkek in early October 2020, triggered by fraudulent parliamentary elections (Pikulicka-Wilczewska 2020). Here, too, the protesters’ choice of square was no coincidence. Two previous revolutions began on Ala-Too Square, and it seems likely that the protests of October 2020 will result in a third Kyrgyz Revolution in the space of little over 15 years.

These three events show how social and political protests continue to utilise and interact with urban public space and its possibilities. The spatial perspective presented in this book offers an additional dimension for understanding their complex dynamics.

I would like to thank the many people who have read and commented on this project during its development, especially my examiners Julie Wilhelmsen, Andrii Portnov, and Bjarge Schwenke Fors and my two closest colleagues at UiT, Yngvar Steinholt and Andrei Rogatchevski.

Thanks are also due to Kirsty Jane Falconer for her thorough language editing, Valerie Lange and Jana Dävers at ibidem Press, and to the Soviet and Post-Soviet Politics and Society series editor Andreas Umland.

I would further like to thank all respondents and interviewees for contributing to this book. Their accounts have been invaluable.

Finally, I wish to thank my family—especially my wife and friend Marina Dyshlovska—for loving support while writing this book.

Arve Hansen, Oslo, January 2021

Figure 1: Post-electoral protest, Minsk, August 2020

Photo: Artem Podrez / Pexels. https://www.pexels.com/photo/protesters-in-belarus-5119461/

1 Starting Point

Went to Kyiv […] metro still closed […] Got around the police blockades easily. […] I returned to the Maidan. Still felt like a safe place.

Kyiv, 20th February 2014

This excerpt is from one of the numerous field notes I made during the final days of the Ukrainian revolution (2013–2014). I was studying the events in Kyiv for a research project in East Slavic area studies (Hansen 2015), and went to the iconic site of the protests, Maidan (Independence Square), to observe the scene after the latest clashes between police and protesters. The contention in Kyiv had started three months earlier in response to the government’s sudden U-turn away from EU integration, and it had rapidly changed into a broad movement against the incumbent president Ianukovych. The conflict escalated into violence and, by this point, many people had been killed.

I arrived at Maidan for the second time that day at approximately four or five o’clock in the afternoon. At the time, rumour had it that 780 protesters had been killed over the previous 24 hours.1 The city was in a state of shock, and there was much uncertainty as to what would happen next. Yet, for some reason, I felt quite safe where I was standing.

I knew Maidan well: the entrances and exits, the many tunnels underneath, the seemingly random monuments mixed with intrusive advertising boards, kiosks, and architecture from all periods of Ukraine’s Soviet and post-Soviet past. Many times over the previous three months, I had wondered why this particular space had become the symbol of protest in Ukraine. Now, during these final days of the revolution, it was evident that the authorities had been unable to clear the square and stop protesters (or curious people like me) from entering it, despite numerous road blocks and a heavy riot police presence. Strangely, I also noticed that, even though everything was uncertain and no one knew whether the authorities would launch another attack, it didn’t feel particularly frightening to be where I was standing. If anything, I figured, I could always find a way out.

It became apparent to me then that Maidan was a very suitable place for protest, although I could not define precisely why.

Maidan is merely one of several examples of a town square that has turned into a location of great political significance. Actions and events spring immediately to mind at the mere mention of the Bastille, Red Square, Taksim, or Tahrir. We associate these places with the making of history: places where revolutions have been started, dictators ousted, or rebellions crushed.

Central urban spaces can thus create powerful imagery, and we intuitively understand that space has importance. Yet how are massive collective actions, such as the latest Ukrainian revolution, affected by urban public space? Or, to put it another way, how does urban space facilitate and/or inhibit public protests? These questions led me to the current study.

Figure 2: Maidan, Kyiv, February 2014a

Photo: Arve Hansen