What do you think?
Rate this book
Orthodox Christianity & Contemporary Thought
Between Heaven and Russia: Religious Conversion and Political Apostasy in Appalachia
How is religious conversion transforming American democracy? In one corner of Appalachia, a group of American citizens has embraced the Russian Orthodox Church and through it Putin’s New Russia. Historically a minority immigrant faith in the United States, Russian Orthodoxy is attracting Americans who look to Russian religion and politics for answers to western secularism and the loss of traditional family values in the face of accelerating progressivism. This ethnography highlights an intentional community of converts who are exemplary of much broader networks of Russian Orthodox converts in the US. These converts sought and found a conservatism more authentic than Christian American Republicanism and a nationalism unburdened by the broken promises of American exceptionalism. Ultimately, both converts and the Church that welcomes them deploy the subversive act of adopting the ideals and faith of a foreign power for larger, transnational political ends.
Offering insights into this rarely considered religious world, including its far-right political roots that nourish the embrace of Putin’s Russia, this ethnography shows how religious conversion is tied to larger issues of social politics, allegiance, (anti)democracy, and citizenship. These conversions offer us a window onto both global politics and foreign affairs, while also allowing us to see how particular communities in the U.S. are grappling with social transformations in the twenty-first century. With broad implications for our understanding of both conservative Christianity and right-wing politics, as well as contemporary Russian-American relations, this book provides insight in the growing constellations of far-right conservatism. While Russian Orthodox converts are more likely to form the moral minority rather than the moral majority, they are an important gauge for understanding the powerful philosophical shifts occurring in the current political climate in the United States and what they might mean for the future of American values, ideals, and democracy.
Offering insights into this rarely considered religious world, including its far-right political roots that nourish the embrace of Putin’s Russia, this ethnography shows how religious conversion is tied to larger issues of social politics, allegiance, (anti)democracy, and citizenship. These conversions offer us a window onto both global politics and foreign affairs, while also allowing us to see how particular communities in the U.S. are grappling with social transformations in the twenty-first century. With broad implications for our understanding of both conservative Christianity and right-wing politics, as well as contemporary Russian-American relations, this book provides insight in the growing constellations of far-right conservatism. While Russian Orthodox converts are more likely to form the moral minority rather than the moral majority, they are an important gauge for understanding the powerful philosophical shifts occurring in the current political climate in the United States and what they might mean for the future of American values, ideals, and democracy.
288 pages, Paperback
Published April 5, 2022
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
June 30, 2022
“These Appalachian converts, along with their compatriots in other parts of the United States, are part of the new face of Orthodoxy, or what I have termed ‘Reactive Orthodoxy.’ This new, hybridized form of religiosity is a worldbuilding form of the faith that finds it[s] roots in an imagined nostalgia for ancient Rus’, American Christian nationalism, and an apocalyptic disenchantment with democracy.”
Sarah Riccardi-Swartz’s 2022 book Between Heaven and Russia: Religious Conversion and Political Apostasy in Appalachia is not just an ethnography of a particular community of American converts to the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia (ROCOR), although it certainly lives up to its promise to offer an ethnographic account of the monastery and parish located in West Virginia. But the book is so much more, as it also offers an exceedingly insightful look into a disturbing trend towards far- and often alt-right political ideologies in incoming American converts to Orthodoxy, and especially to ROCOR. Riccardi-Swartz does a wonderful job making legible and comprehensible the internal logic of an ideology to which I most certainly do not belong, though I am (Greek) Orthodox myself. (Though, according to the community of ROCOR converts in West Virginia, I would almost certainly not in fact be considered either an ‘orthodox’ or ‘orthoprax’ Orthodox believer, on account of following the New Calendar, being a believer in/practitioner of ecumenism—which they dismiss as demonic—and holding decidedly different views about women, LGBT people, and the prospect of an imminent apocalypse or end of times in response to Western decadence and moral decay, etc.)
I was particularly fascinated by Riccardi-Swartz’s tracing of the almost reversal of perspective since the Cold War, at which point many conservative American Christians regarded Russia as a dangerously atheistic communist nation in need of religiously-imbued democratic correction. Now, however, many conservative American Christians—including the convert community in West Virginia, and many powerful organizations and individuals, such as the World Congress of Families—regard Russia as a salvific bastion of pure, crystalline, preserved, authentic (Orthodox) Christianity, in possession of unblemished social and moral values, as an exemplar to which to turn for guidance and protection. This is a fascinating theoretical and conceptual turn in the understanding, and Riccardi-Swartz illuminates its consequences deftly.
There is simply too much of extraordinary value in this book for me to discuss it all properly in-depth, but I will say that I especially enjoyed and found illuminating Riccardi-Swartz’s discussions of fundamentalism and nostalgia in the worldbuilding religiopolitical project of the West Virginian convert community, as well as of Reactive Orthodox Christians generally. It was also fascinating to read about the community’s attitude towards Tsar Nicholas II, and the way in which accurate historical information about his time as tsar was so easily dismissed as modernist propaganda. Ultimately, however, Riccardi-Swartz does a wonderful job in generously, carefully, and critically reconstructing the ideologies and beliefs which lead American converts to ROCOR to support the prospect of a theocratic monarchy which undoes the separation of church and state in America; to hope, sincerely, for a Russian invasion of the United States; to regard America and American democracy as a beyond hope of saving on account of the moral degradation inherent in the Western acceptance of women’s rights, gay rights, and human rights; to pray thankfully to Tsar Nicholas II and the other Romanovs—who are canonized saints in ROCOR and the Moscow Patriarchate but no other Orthodox jurisdiction—for the sacrifice of their lives postponing the imminent destruction of the world via the end times on account of American degeneracy; to look to Russia, President Vladimir Putin, and the Moscow Patriarchate for spiritual, moral, and political guidance; and to unify conservative, often far- and alt-right political beliefs with religious belief in (Reactive) Russian Orthodox Christianity. As an Orthodox Christian myself, I am deeply disturbed by these ideological developments, especially if and when such ideologies are entering the Church through an influx of already alt-right-minded converts. Riccardi-Swartz’s book was extraordinarily thought-provoking in this respect, for it helpfully illuminates the way(s) in which such beliefs internally cohere for adherents in order to create overpowering fears of moral apocalypse driven by secularism and modernity. And understanding these types of beliefs and positions is really important, if not necessary, for doing something about this.
There were just two things I lamented about this book. First, I was saddened to encounter, throughout my reading experience, a surprisingly large number of typographical errors, including a misspelling of President Ronald Reagan’s name as Regan (LOL?), and multiple errors in subject-verb number agreement, among other things. However, those were generally disregard-able, as I could easily comprehend what was intended, though I did think it was a shame that such a fabulous book was riddled with such easily-fixable, albeit minor, errors.
The only other thing I lamented about this book was that I thought it was too short! I wanted more, which is a good sign. I will certainly continue to follow Riccardi-Swartz’s future research projects, and I am delighted to have discovered her thoughtful and thought-provoking scholarship. Putting aside the typographical errors, ranking: 5/5. I would recommend this most highly to all interested in or engaged with Orthodoxy in any way, and to anyone interested in tracing one iteration of the global trend of movement towards religiously-imbued far-right ideologies.
Sarah Riccardi-Swartz’s 2022 book Between Heaven and Russia: Religious Conversion and Political Apostasy in Appalachia is not just an ethnography of a particular community of American converts to the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia (ROCOR), although it certainly lives up to its promise to offer an ethnographic account of the monastery and parish located in West Virginia. But the book is so much more, as it also offers an exceedingly insightful look into a disturbing trend towards far- and often alt-right political ideologies in incoming American converts to Orthodoxy, and especially to ROCOR. Riccardi-Swartz does a wonderful job making legible and comprehensible the internal logic of an ideology to which I most certainly do not belong, though I am (Greek) Orthodox myself. (Though, according to the community of ROCOR converts in West Virginia, I would almost certainly not in fact be considered either an ‘orthodox’ or ‘orthoprax’ Orthodox believer, on account of following the New Calendar, being a believer in/practitioner of ecumenism—which they dismiss as demonic—and holding decidedly different views about women, LGBT people, and the prospect of an imminent apocalypse or end of times in response to Western decadence and moral decay, etc.)
I was particularly fascinated by Riccardi-Swartz’s tracing of the almost reversal of perspective since the Cold War, at which point many conservative American Christians regarded Russia as a dangerously atheistic communist nation in need of religiously-imbued democratic correction. Now, however, many conservative American Christians—including the convert community in West Virginia, and many powerful organizations and individuals, such as the World Congress of Families—regard Russia as a salvific bastion of pure, crystalline, preserved, authentic (Orthodox) Christianity, in possession of unblemished social and moral values, as an exemplar to which to turn for guidance and protection. This is a fascinating theoretical and conceptual turn in the understanding, and Riccardi-Swartz illuminates its consequences deftly.
There is simply too much of extraordinary value in this book for me to discuss it all properly in-depth, but I will say that I especially enjoyed and found illuminating Riccardi-Swartz’s discussions of fundamentalism and nostalgia in the worldbuilding religiopolitical project of the West Virginian convert community, as well as of Reactive Orthodox Christians generally. It was also fascinating to read about the community’s attitude towards Tsar Nicholas II, and the way in which accurate historical information about his time as tsar was so easily dismissed as modernist propaganda. Ultimately, however, Riccardi-Swartz does a wonderful job in generously, carefully, and critically reconstructing the ideologies and beliefs which lead American converts to ROCOR to support the prospect of a theocratic monarchy which undoes the separation of church and state in America; to hope, sincerely, for a Russian invasion of the United States; to regard America and American democracy as a beyond hope of saving on account of the moral degradation inherent in the Western acceptance of women’s rights, gay rights, and human rights; to pray thankfully to Tsar Nicholas II and the other Romanovs—who are canonized saints in ROCOR and the Moscow Patriarchate but no other Orthodox jurisdiction—for the sacrifice of their lives postponing the imminent destruction of the world via the end times on account of American degeneracy; to look to Russia, President Vladimir Putin, and the Moscow Patriarchate for spiritual, moral, and political guidance; and to unify conservative, often far- and alt-right political beliefs with religious belief in (Reactive) Russian Orthodox Christianity. As an Orthodox Christian myself, I am deeply disturbed by these ideological developments, especially if and when such ideologies are entering the Church through an influx of already alt-right-minded converts. Riccardi-Swartz’s book was extraordinarily thought-provoking in this respect, for it helpfully illuminates the way(s) in which such beliefs internally cohere for adherents in order to create overpowering fears of moral apocalypse driven by secularism and modernity. And understanding these types of beliefs and positions is really important, if not necessary, for doing something about this.
There were just two things I lamented about this book. First, I was saddened to encounter, throughout my reading experience, a surprisingly large number of typographical errors, including a misspelling of President Ronald Reagan’s name as Regan (LOL?), and multiple errors in subject-verb number agreement, among other things. However, those were generally disregard-able, as I could easily comprehend what was intended, though I did think it was a shame that such a fabulous book was riddled with such easily-fixable, albeit minor, errors.
The only other thing I lamented about this book was that I thought it was too short! I wanted more, which is a good sign. I will certainly continue to follow Riccardi-Swartz’s future research projects, and I am delighted to have discovered her thoughtful and thought-provoking scholarship. Putting aside the typographical errors, ranking: 5/5. I would recommend this most highly to all interested in or engaged with Orthodoxy in any way, and to anyone interested in tracing one iteration of the global trend of movement towards religiously-imbued far-right ideologies.
June 15, 2022
This is an incredibly frustrating book, and one that truly did not have to be made. The research done, while meeting the criteria set up by the proper university's ethical standards as one must fully admit, was deeply problematic and is clearly unethical to any onlooker, especially those from the Orthodox Church.
The means by which Riccardi-Swartz conducted her research, which I would rather not state directly but are apparent to anyone who has followed its development, has permanently affected the parish and monastery mentioned throughout this book. I would go so far as to say that it has probably done the same for the entirety of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia, at the very least. The author and publisher seem to have absolutely no regrets concerning this massive elephant in the room that is fundamental to the research and creation of this book.
Current conflicts between Russia and Ukraine only make the book come off as more tasteless, and risk bringing further harm to Orthodoxy in America as a whole by association with political figures like Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump. Exemplifying all of this even further is the fact that, on Amazon at least, reviewers seem to have been given multiple five star reviews as quickly as possible to counteract those who might rate it negatively due to the issues I have brought up before. Normally, I would not assume this to be the case, but it fits perfectly with the fact that such a thing happened with some of the talks Riccardi-Swartz gave on this subject after the announcement of her book. I say all of this as someone who is Orthodox but not Russian Orthodox, and not a political extremist of any sort.
The author and publisher should be completely ashamed, not only for betraying the trust of dozens of people in making this book, but also for politicizing Orthodoxy in a time of great instability and tension in our Church. Multiple Orthodox Churches in the US- including Ukrainian ones- have been vandalized in the last few months, and this book can only make things worse. The book should have been scrapped.
And shockingly to the author, if Vladimir Putin invaded America, I would NOT pick up a gun and fight for him. Even if I owned one.
The means by which Riccardi-Swartz conducted her research, which I would rather not state directly but are apparent to anyone who has followed its development, has permanently affected the parish and monastery mentioned throughout this book. I would go so far as to say that it has probably done the same for the entirety of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia, at the very least. The author and publisher seem to have absolutely no regrets concerning this massive elephant in the room that is fundamental to the research and creation of this book.
Current conflicts between Russia and Ukraine only make the book come off as more tasteless, and risk bringing further harm to Orthodoxy in America as a whole by association with political figures like Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump. Exemplifying all of this even further is the fact that, on Amazon at least, reviewers seem to have been given multiple five star reviews as quickly as possible to counteract those who might rate it negatively due to the issues I have brought up before. Normally, I would not assume this to be the case, but it fits perfectly with the fact that such a thing happened with some of the talks Riccardi-Swartz gave on this subject after the announcement of her book. I say all of this as someone who is Orthodox but not Russian Orthodox, and not a political extremist of any sort.
The author and publisher should be completely ashamed, not only for betraying the trust of dozens of people in making this book, but also for politicizing Orthodoxy in a time of great instability and tension in our Church. Multiple Orthodox Churches in the US- including Ukrainian ones- have been vandalized in the last few months, and this book can only make things worse. The book should have been scrapped.
And shockingly to the author, if Vladimir Putin invaded America, I would NOT pick up a gun and fight for him. Even if I owned one.
May 27, 2022
Very good insight into the history of ROCOR inside the US, and its convergence with the modern American far right and Americans disaffected with American culture who see in Russian Orthodoxy a vehicle for escaping/renewing American culture.
The author has some insightful commentary about the "Oriental" or romantic othering of Orthodoxy by American Christians (potential converts in many cases) as a timeless, tradition bound and unchanging system instead of a historically shaped one.
The author has some insightful commentary about the "Oriental" or romantic othering of Orthodoxy by American Christians (potential converts in many cases) as a timeless, tradition bound and unchanging system instead of a historically shaped one.
January 3, 2023
I have known the author online for several years - since before she gained the -Swartz part of her name, in fact. While I realize that this is a controversial book, I was interested in reading it as I wanted to see the fruits of her research. I don't speak for her, but I would assume that she'd agree with me that this is the story of a community, of some people within that community, and some strains of political thought. It is not the only story of a community, of the people within this community, and the only political thoughts therein. It was engaging and readable and I think a valuable contribution to the discussion.
August 28, 2022
“Between Heaven and Russia: Religious Conversion and Political Apostasy in Appalachia” is a book by Sarah Riccardi-Swartz that investigates the motivations and impacts of converts to Russian Orthodoxy in rural West Virginia. In full disclosure, I am a member of the OCA in a large northern city who is familiar with the monastery in “Woodford” and, to a lesser extent, the parish. I am not a conservative, and I have no use for either Putin or Trump. At the outset, I was very interested to get the author’s insight into Orthodoxy in Appalachia.
After reading the 2-1/2 page preface, where Trump and Putin are mentioned in the same sentence at least 14 times, I had a pretty good understanding of the political and social positions of the author. Nonetheless, I was hopeful of an even-handed account given that she had spent a year in West Virginia researching the topic. This did not turn out to be the case.
First, regarding just the basic research methodology, her entire thesis was based on two relatively small communities (a parish with less than 100 attending members and a monastery with about 30 monks). That’s a small data set (which, as others noted, raises some ethical questions). And by her own admissions, neither of these were representative of the Appalachian community. The parish members were better educated and often wealthier than the surrounding community (many moved in from outside Appalachia). A majority did not vote for Trump (74% of the county voted for Trump). None of the monks were from West Virginia, and the monastery was recently founded only after moving to Appalachia from Missouri due to a land grant. What do we learn about the correlations or interplay between Appalachian culture and Orthodoxy? Almost nothing. The setting could have easily been any ROCOR monastery and parish. The entire Appalachian aspect of the book was undermined by using two small outlier points to draw trends.
Second, one would expect the book to be replete with quotations from the parish attendees and monks. This is not the case. We only meet a handful of parish attendees (some of whom don’t attend the parish any longer) and a few monks. While there are certainly a number of quotes that can be viewed as extreme, most were not. It was usually the author’s commentary that painted them in an extreme light. In the Epilogue a parish member who had to leave the parish because of his extreme views is used to launch into a 5-page exposition on “religio-fascist,” “potentially volatile,” ideas that form the “basis of fascism,” that exists on the ultra-conservative websites - even though “the postings were not indicative of the of the status quo in Woodford.” What, then, was the point? She spent a year with conservative Orthodox believers in West Virginia. Why aren’t their quotes, rather than internet sites, used as evidence of a religio-fascism and a “Reactive Orthodoxy.” One of the most shocking passages where a convert is said to be looking forward to the invasion of the United States by Putin is not a quote. It would seem a direct quote should be used to justify this recollection, because later we learn that Woodford Orthodox Christians held “a deep pride in being Americans…”
Third, the author obviously does not like ROCOR. It is a relatively small community in the overall picture of American Orthodoxy. I am surprised the author did not investigate the role of converts in the nearby Greek or Antiochian churches. Her justification that focusing on one jurisdiction would allow for thinking about the “motivating factors that influence believers in the selection of their spiritual home” applies equally to all jurisdictions. Comparing and contrasting converts in other traditions would seem highly relevant if an accurate picture of Orthodoxy in Appalachia was to be presented. ROCOR has always been conservative and has clung to its Russian heritage. Admittedly, its love of all things Russian and the romanticization of Russian monarchy can be over the top. But if you’re going to research a church body literally called “The Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia,” is it surprising they are going to be sympathetic to Russian historical figures and political trends? For them, they are the spiritual descendants of the pre-Soviet Moscow Patriarch. This book was more a polemic against ROCOR than an evaluation of conservative convert Orthodoxy or even Russian Orthodoxy (also found in the OCA) in Appalachia.
Finally, the tone of the book was slanted so negatively toward anything traditional or conservative, that it was difficult to accept her conclusions at face value. Socially progressive groups are always depicted in a positive light. Conservative groups are almost, without exception, presented with negative qualifiers: “seemingly Christian conservatism,” “so-called traditional, nuclear family…”, “...radical, perhaps even fascist...”, “so-called, family values…”, “…perhaps alt-right …” and the ever present “…possibly even fascist.” Additionally, certain practices are presented as though they are extreme or conservative ROCOR practices (prohibition of women behind the altar, veneration of Tsar Nicholas II, sexual and gender orientation, and even the non-ordination of women). You may disagree with these stands, but they are mainstream Orthodoxy.
In the end, this book was written for left-leaning academics. While the historical aspects of the book describing Russian Orthodoxy are quite good, the main emphasis of painting young male, alt-right, radicalized converts as the new face of Orthodoxy is based primarily on internet sources and a few firsthand encounters. While we should certainly be wary of such trends, the book seems to be “reactive” in the opposite political and social direction.
After reading the 2-1/2 page preface, where Trump and Putin are mentioned in the same sentence at least 14 times, I had a pretty good understanding of the political and social positions of the author. Nonetheless, I was hopeful of an even-handed account given that she had spent a year in West Virginia researching the topic. This did not turn out to be the case.
First, regarding just the basic research methodology, her entire thesis was based on two relatively small communities (a parish with less than 100 attending members and a monastery with about 30 monks). That’s a small data set (which, as others noted, raises some ethical questions). And by her own admissions, neither of these were representative of the Appalachian community. The parish members were better educated and often wealthier than the surrounding community (many moved in from outside Appalachia). A majority did not vote for Trump (74% of the county voted for Trump). None of the monks were from West Virginia, and the monastery was recently founded only after moving to Appalachia from Missouri due to a land grant. What do we learn about the correlations or interplay between Appalachian culture and Orthodoxy? Almost nothing. The setting could have easily been any ROCOR monastery and parish. The entire Appalachian aspect of the book was undermined by using two small outlier points to draw trends.
Second, one would expect the book to be replete with quotations from the parish attendees and monks. This is not the case. We only meet a handful of parish attendees (some of whom don’t attend the parish any longer) and a few monks. While there are certainly a number of quotes that can be viewed as extreme, most were not. It was usually the author’s commentary that painted them in an extreme light. In the Epilogue a parish member who had to leave the parish because of his extreme views is used to launch into a 5-page exposition on “religio-fascist,” “potentially volatile,” ideas that form the “basis of fascism,” that exists on the ultra-conservative websites - even though “the postings were not indicative of the of the status quo in Woodford.” What, then, was the point? She spent a year with conservative Orthodox believers in West Virginia. Why aren’t their quotes, rather than internet sites, used as evidence of a religio-fascism and a “Reactive Orthodoxy.” One of the most shocking passages where a convert is said to be looking forward to the invasion of the United States by Putin is not a quote. It would seem a direct quote should be used to justify this recollection, because later we learn that Woodford Orthodox Christians held “a deep pride in being Americans…”
Third, the author obviously does not like ROCOR. It is a relatively small community in the overall picture of American Orthodoxy. I am surprised the author did not investigate the role of converts in the nearby Greek or Antiochian churches. Her justification that focusing on one jurisdiction would allow for thinking about the “motivating factors that influence believers in the selection of their spiritual home” applies equally to all jurisdictions. Comparing and contrasting converts in other traditions would seem highly relevant if an accurate picture of Orthodoxy in Appalachia was to be presented. ROCOR has always been conservative and has clung to its Russian heritage. Admittedly, its love of all things Russian and the romanticization of Russian monarchy can be over the top. But if you’re going to research a church body literally called “The Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia,” is it surprising they are going to be sympathetic to Russian historical figures and political trends? For them, they are the spiritual descendants of the pre-Soviet Moscow Patriarch. This book was more a polemic against ROCOR than an evaluation of conservative convert Orthodoxy or even Russian Orthodoxy (also found in the OCA) in Appalachia.
Finally, the tone of the book was slanted so negatively toward anything traditional or conservative, that it was difficult to accept her conclusions at face value. Socially progressive groups are always depicted in a positive light. Conservative groups are almost, without exception, presented with negative qualifiers: “seemingly Christian conservatism,” “so-called traditional, nuclear family…”, “...radical, perhaps even fascist...”, “so-called, family values…”, “…perhaps alt-right …” and the ever present “…possibly even fascist.” Additionally, certain practices are presented as though they are extreme or conservative ROCOR practices (prohibition of women behind the altar, veneration of Tsar Nicholas II, sexual and gender orientation, and even the non-ordination of women). You may disagree with these stands, but they are mainstream Orthodoxy.
In the end, this book was written for left-leaning academics. While the historical aspects of the book describing Russian Orthodoxy are quite good, the main emphasis of painting young male, alt-right, radicalized converts as the new face of Orthodoxy is based primarily on internet sources and a few firsthand encounters. While we should certainly be wary of such trends, the book seems to be “reactive” in the opposite political and social direction.
June 1, 2022
I loved reading "Between Heaven and Russia." Sarah Riccardi-Swartz does a wonderful ethnographic job of analyzing a Russian Orthodox (ROCOR) convert community in Appalachia. Her analysis is thorough and thoughtful, linking Appalachian Studies to Orthodox studies, American Christian nationalism, political theory, religious theory, and history.
This study is a first of its kind, and well worth reading. As an Orthodox myself, living in the US, I truly enjoyed reading the book and learned much from it.
This study is a first of its kind, and well worth reading. As an Orthodox myself, living in the US, I truly enjoyed reading the book and learned much from it.
December 1, 2022
Candidly, I do not feel like this is good scholarship and calling this book an anthropological investigation on this Russian Orthodox community feels somewhat unethical. I found that much of this book was a contradiction between (paraphrased):
"They were unwilling to talk to politics with me and many of them didn't vote from Trump. They really like Tsar Nicholas and some of them don't think Putin is a bad person. They also like Russia, partly because their religion has originated from that country. They think that the United States has become too secular and some seem to have given up. Some of them watch Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson."
and
"I think that this community is actually REACTIVE ORTHODOXY and they are dangerously merging the political and religious. These already politically conservative, disillusioned, illiberal converts have found a religion that suits their needs. They are using the American ideal of freedom of religion and also criticizing the system they have achieved their community through. They hate the West! They love Putin!"
It just doesn't seem to fit. These people were, throughout her stay in their community, pleasant and typically very welcoming. She ate meals in their homes, participated in their choir, and met with their monks consistently. Yet, at the same time, left deciding to write an inflammatory book about how this community (despite being devote believers) are wielding religion as a tool for their political aims in the U.S. I tend to think that her love for "social justice" but dislike for things like "charitable obligation" are misguided. Religion is not the same as an ideology, I felt that Riccardi-Swartz was too keen to equate these ideas for the ROCOR community in her novel.
"They were unwilling to talk to politics with me and many of them didn't vote from Trump. They really like Tsar Nicholas and some of them don't think Putin is a bad person. They also like Russia, partly because their religion has originated from that country. They think that the United States has become too secular and some seem to have given up. Some of them watch Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson."
and
"I think that this community is actually REACTIVE ORTHODOXY and they are dangerously merging the political and religious. These already politically conservative, disillusioned, illiberal converts have found a religion that suits their needs. They are using the American ideal of freedom of religion and also criticizing the system they have achieved their community through. They hate the West! They love Putin!"
It just doesn't seem to fit. These people were, throughout her stay in their community, pleasant and typically very welcoming. She ate meals in their homes, participated in their choir, and met with their monks consistently. Yet, at the same time, left deciding to write an inflammatory book about how this community (despite being devote believers) are wielding religion as a tool for their political aims in the U.S. I tend to think that her love for "social justice" but dislike for things like "charitable obligation" are misguided. Religion is not the same as an ideology, I felt that Riccardi-Swartz was too keen to equate these ideas for the ROCOR community in her novel.
May 18, 2022
This is an insightful but flawed book about the influx of right-wing extremist converts into the Eastern Orthodox Church. (The work focuses on this dynamic in one specific ROCOR community, but the same trend is also occurring in other American jurisdictions.)
I’ve observed this phenomenon myself, so I have no desire to dismiss the author’s main observations and arguments. However, the book is poorly written, especially for a scholarly work. The tone is uneven, the prose is sometimes clunky, and there are several glaring typos (e.g. “who’s” for “whose”) that should never have made it through the editing process. Additionally, I think the author spent too much time on her own summaries and commentary, and too little time directly quoting the Orthodox converts with whom she worked. The quotes she did use were very effective and really served to drive home the point she was making. I was left wanting to hear more snippets from these interviews.
I’ve observed this phenomenon myself, so I have no desire to dismiss the author’s main observations and arguments. However, the book is poorly written, especially for a scholarly work. The tone is uneven, the prose is sometimes clunky, and there are several glaring typos (e.g. “who’s” for “whose”) that should never have made it through the editing process. Additionally, I think the author spent too much time on her own summaries and commentary, and too little time directly quoting the Orthodox converts with whom she worked. The quotes she did use were very effective and really served to drive home the point she was making. I was left wanting to hear more snippets from these interviews.
April 13, 2022
Seriously, take up and read. Sarah Riccardi-Swartz has done a masterful job of examining this phenomenon in a manner up-close and personal, but also methodologically rigorous and meticulously sourced, documenting the confluence of American Religious Right radicalism with the growing authoritarian "family values" ethnonationalism of Putin's Russia in a paradigmatic intentional community formed in the mountains of West Virginia. Think Rod Dreher's "Benedict Option", but pronounced with a Russian accent.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews