The Face of Russian Political Correctness

Some might say that “Russian political correctness” is an oxymoron. Nothing could be further from the truth. Russians have simply chosen a “unique path” to politically correctness. 

This is best demonstrated by a popular joke. Russia’s Tatars wrote a letter to Stalin complaining that the proverb Незваный гость хуже татарина (An uninvited guest is worse than a Tatar) was offensive to their sense of national pride. Stalin thought the matter over and announced that the proverb would be revised to Незваный гость лучше татарина (An uninvited guest is better than a Tatar).

The expression лицо кавказской национальности (a person of Caucasian nationality) was probably a similarly awkward attempt to be politically correct. It first appeared in police blotters in the early nineties, in reference to persons from the Northern Caucasus, Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan. Journalists adopted the term, perhaps trying to avoid specificity about citizenship, while at the same time identifying perpetrators as “others” or “outsiders.” The word proved extremely useful and quickly infiltrated our daily speech. 

Consider the following dialogue taken from real life. A 16-year-old law student with dark hair, eyes and complexion is at a kiosk in the center of Moscow, contemplating which type of ice cream to buy. Suddenly the vendor blurts out: “You should get out of Russia, you, persons of Caucasian nationality!” “Do you know what nationality I am?” the bewildered girl asks. “Of course I know,” the vendor replies, “of Caucasian nationality.” 

The word лицо in Russian can mean both “person” and “face.” In this expression, it officially means “person,” but to many it signifies a particular facial type as well. How else can one explain the current racial profiling, where people with “non-Slavic” faces are the only ones who get stopped for document checks on the metro and in the streets?

Russians are expert at discerning ethnic identity from one’s лицо. As the saying goes, Бьют не по паспорту, а по морде. (They do not beat you on your passport, but on your mug.) 

In the soviet era, one’s passport confirmed the ethnicity of one’s “mug.” Its infamous пятый пункт (the fifth clause) declared the bearer’s национальность (nationality, meaning ethnic identity, not citizenship, гражданство). In the era of state-sanctioned anti-Semitism, people denied a job or entry to a university because they were Jewish would say “завернули по пятому пункту” (“they turned me down on the basis of the fifth clause”). To this day, the soviet-era stigma of национальность persists--a widespread negative euphemism for Jews or other “non-Russians” is национальное меньшинство (national minority) or, more colloquially, нацмен.

The fifth clause was sometimes elevated to the pinnacle of absurdity. Emilia Tynes, the head of a charity for Russian-African children, is a Muscovite with African American heritage who has Russian citizenship. The fifth clause of her Soviet passport said she was a негритянка (negress)--declaring neither her nationality, ethnic identity or citizenship, but her race.

Officially, Soviets were the greatest friends of the post-colonial African countries and of oppressed African Americans. And officials made sure to be as politically correct as they knew how. In his “Notebooks,” Sergei Dovlatov offers a telling anecdote. The commentator of a boxing match between a white and a black man explains: Негритянского боксёра вы можете отличить по светло-голубой каёмке на трусах (The negro boxer can be recognized by the light-blue hem on his shorts).

Speaking of race, the word негр (negro) is actually alright to use in Russian, at least according to linguistic experts at the Russian Language Institute in Moscow and elsewhere. However, Africans themselves often frown on the word, as so do some Russians who have knowledge of foreign languages like English, in which the translation has pejorative connotations. Whatever you decide on this delicate issue, avoid calling black or other dark-skinned persons чёрные—this word is a very rude pejorative for “persons of Caucasian nationality.”

The пятый пункт may no longer appear in their passports, but Russians still have a long way to travel down the road of political correctness. So, when a Russian asks you what nationality you are, be prepared that, for some, “American” or “Canadian” will not suffice as an answer. Be ready to trace your family tree back to your Irish grandmother and Jewish great grandfather. Of course you can do like Vladimir Zhirinovsky. When asked about his parents’ nationality, Zhirinovsky, the ever-outrageous leader of the Liberal Democratic Party of Russia who is infamous for his nationalist and anti-Semitic remarks, replied with his own brand of political correctness: “мама – русская, а папа юрист” (“My mother is Russian and my father is a lawyer”).