Scholars interested in studies of civil society in general and environmental issues in particular; multinational and national corporates’ reactions to these matters and specifically Russian aspects of the topics will very much enjoy reading Kate Pride Brown's book, Saving the Sacred Sea: The Power of Civil Society in an Age of Authoritarianism and Globalization. It is one of the best examples of studies dealing with these subjects that I have read in years. This is because Brown creates an excellent combination of a truly topical issue—civil society in Vladimir Putin's Russia today—based on her original fieldwork, with her theoretical framework: the “field of power” theory. She managed to bring us an outstanding portrayal of the environmental movement's activity around the Lake Baikal, a part of Russia that is geographically as far from the Kremlin as one can get. The arms of the state, however, are just as strong here as in the capital itself, given that Russia has a longstanding and well maintained tradition—from both pre-Soviet times and during it—of achieving political control, with a penetrating network of loyal, dutiful apparatchiks (bureaucrats).

Brown builds her subject, based on an empirically-strong ethnographical monograph, applying participant observation, as her main methodology. She combines these with further information gained from her fifty-two in-depth interviews with key stakeholders, such as corporate and transnational sponsors, using her excellent knowledge of Russian. Able to communicate without any interpreter, she grasps nuanced reactions to various grave issues occurring when movement activists faced severe difficulties, as the historic context evolves during her research period (2012–13). Inspired by Michael Burawoy, her methodology goes beyond a simple ethnographical approach, however, resulting in a successful rendering of a broader social construct.Footnote ⁶

Having experienced a short period of relative openness towards the world outside during the 1990s, many environmental groups in Russia, including the ones around Lake Baikal, had established regular contacts with their global counterparts outside Russia, operating in the part of the world where green activities were already advanced. By 2012, however, Putin's state had gone full circle by codifying the so-called “Foreign Agent Law.” By the time Brown completed her ten months field work in Irkutsk, Eastern Siberia's regional capital, this new zakon (legislation) was dutifully voted in by the Duma following Putin's request, which put a stop to Russia's short lived openness to the world, both in terms of much needed sponsorship and advice. This new “tightening the screw” by legislative measures introduced a “useful tool” to make possible the singling out of any social movement that can be viewed as “suspicious” politically. It was executed by the local arm of the state's representatives in any part of the country. Historically familiar authoritarian measures have been reinstated, once again. Thus in contemporary Russia environmental movements are not only burdened by their struggle with corporate power—as in western democracies—but also by a political regime that has returned to its traditional, controlling manner.

The book follows Lake Baikal's various green initiatives, portraying their day-to-day struggles, and focusing in particular on three movements. Their foci include fighting wide-spread local apathy, handling local corporate interests (which typically seek to expand heavy industry and exploit Siberian natural resources without much thought to the local damage caused), as well as their own struggle for survival against an increasingly authoritarian state's stifling political control.

As the main title suggests, the Lake Baikal is very special: a “sacred” body of water, an exceptional place from an environmental point of view. It is “the oldest, deepest, most voluminous lake on the planet, a freshwater reservoir of global proportions” (25). It is also ecologically unique. The lake itself was formed approximately 25–30 million years ago and is teaming with endemic species—numbering over an estimated four thousand—ranging from microscopic shrimp to the Baikal seal. It is situated over 3,000 miles from the capital and approximately 400 miles from the Mongol border, deep in Siberia. It is a scarcely populated region, largely inaccessible by road, with a poorly-developed system of infrastructure around it. Yet, heavy industry has been very much present here, concentrated around the lake's two major cities: Irkutsk (with around half a million inhabitants), and on the east side of the lake, Ulan Ude (population: 400,000). There are also three minor towns. The development of these major and minor settlements and villages near and around predates Soviet times, but has increased speed in the 1960s. The local industry, originating from Soviet period, includes a highly toxic paper mill that has been hugely damaging to the surrounding forests and the lake itself, a heavy-duty metallurgy and chemical works, several mines extracting coal and other minerals, a dam, and various other industrial units. All these enterprises are geared up for maximum productivity and rather minimal respect for the obvious environmental consequences. This was true historically, as is today.

Following the Soviet collapse at the end of the 1980s and the rather murky, so-called “transitional period” of the following decade under the leadership of Boris Yeltsin, a small economic elite succeeded in amassing significant fortunes in this area, as well. This period was marred by corruption and chaos, such that the next leader, Vladimir Putin, was initially widely appreciated for “consolidating” corporate capitalism in Russia with an iron fist. This gave “birth” to the lake's own “oligarch,” Oleg Deripaska. Born in 1968, he belonged to the right age group to become a successful entrepreneur. From a humble background, Deripaska achieved entrance to the best university in the USSR. Too destitute to continue his studies in theoretical physics, he teamed up with fellow students and grabbed a newly-opened opportunity: trading home-sourced cheap metal products on the global market. Having established a global business, together with other multinationals, Deripaska established “advanced practices” of corporate social responsibility, marketing, and publicity. He began sponsoring the very environmental movements around the Lake that fought to curtail the damage his company was causing by reckless industrial expansion.

Deripaska's specially-trained employees were instructed to offer aid to green initiatives with various sponsorship, which, while negligible in terms of the corporation's budget, were “very helpful” for resource-starved environmentalists. In Putin's Russia, where international sponsorship is curtailed for purely political reasons, environmental protection comes very much at the lowest rung of interest, and the oligarchs are the victors. Newly re-elected, Putin turned his attention to “consolidating power,” recognizing that he can get away with ignoring basic human rights and severely curtailing civil society. Francis Fukuyama's “end of history” argument spectacularly failed.Footnote ⁷ As Brown correctly points out, the important differences of today from Soviet times include social movements, and individuals, even oligarchs, are left to operate as long as they do not endeavor to challenge power brokers within the sphere of state political power.

The “field of power” concept, employed by the author is loosely based on Pierre Bourdieu's theory, where “field” is “a space of social activity” in which individuals either compete or co-operate to achieve their goals by (1983) using different “species of capital,” including cultural, symbolic, social, and economic as a resource.Footnote ⁸ Where Brown departs from Bourdieu is her focus on the “players,” not individuals—as in Bourdieu's approach—but organizations, groups or collectives, that is, environmental movements—acting in the social field in a Siberian location in contemporary Russia. Her other significant theoretical departure is arguing that “field activity” is not necessarily geared towards a scheme of stratification among the actors, rather an interaction with other organized social entities in issue-specific fields—such as green movements. They are actors within the sphere of civil society, within the “field of power,” which also includes the state and corporate opponents. Each of the three types of players is a unique entity, she argues, which uses all their available resources to try to dictate, influence, or weaken the others. For the author, civil society is not merely a construct of “legal rights and freedoms” as for those who had based their theory primarily not on western NGO sectors, but a complex relationship within the “field of power.”Footnote ⁹

While we get a full and nuanced portrayal of the struggle environmental movements face in Russia today (fighting people's ignorance, struggling with corporate hazards and their rather effective, misleading propaganda, ever tightening political control of Putin's state), we learn much less about the comparative example of their western counterparts, like the movement around Lake Tahoe, which so much influenced their Russian colleagues. We never find out how it succeeded or failed in its own environment, while giving a lot of advice to their Siberian friends. This is the singular shortcoming of Brown's excellent book, however, which is a captivating read. It gives the reader a dynamic glance into contemporary Russia, providing a vivid and complete picture of what environmentalist have to face daily because they are concerned with nature, their own environment, and fighting for the globally significant Lake Baikal.