From PRAVDA to PRAVO

The Politics of New York’s Brighton Beach

By Mark Krotov

In the Soviet Union, the political process was not open to widespread participation. Pre-selected candidates that received 99.8 percent of the vote with perhaps 0.2 percent abstaining--regardless of turnout or popularity--failed to galvanize tremendous interest or respect for the electoral system. It would seem that once immigrants arrived in the United States, a country generally respected for its open institutions of governance, their active participation would be a surefire inevitability. But that is not the case, as the situation has proven to be far more complex. The Brooklyn town of Brighton Beach, the place that New York’s largest Russian emigre community calls home, demonstrates a conflict that mixes traditional political infighting with ethnically motivated distrust--the politics of Brighton Beach certainly weave their own special web.

The United States Census Bureau reported that there were 706,000 US residents who spoke Russian at home in 2000, yet there is only one native Russian speaker in the entire United States who holds elected office, Brooklyn’s Democratic district leader Mark Davidovich. It is fair to ask why the political activity of such a sizable ethnic group is so small, and if the answer can be found anywhere, it lies in Brighton Beach, the area with one of the densest populations of Russian speakers in the nation.

The beachside Brooklyn hamlet, more notable as Coney Island’s next-door neighbor than as a political power base, has seen its share of political intrigue over the last few years. Once home to newly arrived immigrants who sought a homogenous community far more than they did political activity, the neighborhood is now a battleground filled to the brim with controversies over representation. Chiefly, for a vocal minority, if not for the more silent majority, the struggle over non-Russian representatives has become a central battle.

Fira Stukelman is a member of the Brighton Beach-based Partnership of Russian-American Voters (PRAVO), a group focused on supporting aspiring Russian politicians. The group is made up of nine Russian-American members. “We [Russians] have one dream. Our dream is for a candidate from our group to be elected,” said Stukelman. While Davidovich seems to be a step forward, PRAVO has its eye on posts in the New York State Assembly and the New York City Council.

Brighton Beach itself is split into two central Assembly and City Council districts that follow their own distinct boundaries, but the two most controversial politicians in the neighborhood are New York State Assemblywoman Adele Cohen (D-46) and New York City Councilman Dominic Recchia (D-47). The debate over these two representatives helps to illuminate the larger issues that divide the neighborhood.

Cohen has represented the neighborhood for six years, but her longevity has not made her especially popular, at least among the vocal PRAVO members. While many of Stukelman’s comments were off the record, she essentially believes that Cohen has not sufficiently reached out to the Russian community. Although she said that Cohen “has become more loyal and more polite,” she pointed out that “nobody helps and nobody [who is not Russian] is interested.” This allegation, in many ways, represents the somewhat popular mindset that until a Russian is in power, real Russian interests will not be addressed.

Cohen has also been the subject of rumors in the neighborhood that focused on the closing of the Brighton Beach branch of the public library on Election Day. The closing was provocative because the library was a polling place for many elderly residents who did not want to travel a few blocks down Brighton Beach Avenue to another location. Assemblywoman Cohen declined to speak directly to The Birch, but Michael Treybich, her Community Relations Director, completely dismissed those charges. He said, “The minority that provides the vocal resistance to any non-Russian speaking politicians is just that, a vocal minority.” Moreover, it is hard to pigeonhole Cohen as a completely uncaring and aloof politician, given that every employee in her Brighton Beach district office speaks Russian.

Recchia provides another intriguing example of the ambiguity of Brighton’s political scene. In 2003, when Recchia was up for reelection, the Democratic Primary received citywide attention for some questionable behavior. Tony Eisenberg, a member of PRAVO, ran for the councilman’s seat. During the race, Recchia charged that Eisenberg was misleading the public because his real name is Anatoly Eyzenberg, and that the Americanized name was simply an attempt to illegally promote himself. Eisenberg bitterly contested this accusation, arguing that he had used the name for a number of years, and that, regardless, the name change was legal. The public opinion in the neighborhood, bolstered by the Russian-speaking press, sided with Eisenberg, and many still blame Recchia for the trivial victory.

But Eisenberg was not simply the victim of a great injustice. After all, while Recchia’s allegations were almost certainly misguided, the transcript of the New York Court of Appeals’ decision on the matter indicates that Eisenberg was disqualified not because of the name change, but “because the candidate did not actually reside at the address he listed as his residence on the designating petition and which he had used for purposes of voter registration.” So, while arguments over names were mere politics, Eisenberg’s listing of his Brighton Beach supermarket as his residence proved to be the ultimate illegality. Eisenberg did not live in the predominantly Russian district in which he sought office, and in order to conceal it, he registered his place of business as his home.

Yet, even though Eisenberg misled the neighborhood, Recchia may have been the first to play dirty. Earlier in 2003, a district that covered a far bigger portion of Brighton Beach was divided. According to an October 13, 2004 article in the New York Daily News, “Powerbrokers ... gerrymandered the Russians’ south Brooklyn power base--taking 5,000 residents, most of them Russians, out of the 47th District and replacing them mostly with Italian-Americans.”

Perhaps the most ambiguous element in Brighton Beach politics is PRAVO itself. Stukelman suggests that the partnership is designed to fight difficult odds. When “our candidates do not have the financial backing that [American] candidates do” and “no working politician will support Russian candidates,” an organized group of people with a common interest is certainly necessary. Stukelman cites PRAVO’s recent meetings with Mayor Bloomberg as signs of success. But Treybich tells a different story. He points out that the organization is, in essence, “very hostile to anyone who is non-Russian.”

PRAVO is led by Dr. Oleg Gutnik, a Brighton Beach gynecologist who himself ran against Recchia in 2000, and who, despite a number of requests, declined to speak with The Birch. Gutnik is widely described as charismatic, but his strong presence has won him some enemies. Pat Singer, the head of Brighton Beach Neighborhood Association, described a recent meeting with Bloomberg that Stukelman also cited.  “When he ran the meeting, Dr. Gutnik would not let any questions come from the floor,” said Singer. Treybich also said that “when Bloomberg came, none of the elected officials were invited,” which meant a prevalence of PRAVO members and an absence of anyone else.

All of these ambiguous factors, in addition to PRAVO’s strong connections with the influential Russian press and convincing but off the record rumors about voter intimidation, may perfectly illustrate Treyblich’s categorization of a “vocal minority” that dominates the discourse. But this minority may not hold the interests of the majority at its core.

After all, while the politicians attempt to outmaneuver each other, the electorate remains largely unaffected--Davidovich is still the only Russian-speaking American in an elected office. Perhaps the most pressing issue is the absence of ballots written in Russian. While many of the state’s other ethnic groups now have ballots issued in their respective languages, Russians cannot call the Board of Elections and request a proxy. Stukelman argues that this issue alone necessitates ethnic Russian representation.

Another factor that precludes Russian political involvement, and, thus, political action, is the age of the electorate. Many Brighton Beach residents are senior citizens with poor language skills and an inability to gather much research outside of what they read in the papers. While some new residential construction promises an influx of younger, more active Russians, it is still unclear what the effect will be.

In many ways, the ultimate lesson that may be derived from Brighton Beach’s ambiguous political scene is the need to find common ground. “Americans cannot understand that we came in a time of progress. We came because we didn’t have freedoms, not because we didn’t have bread,” said Stukelman. The disjunction between the Russian and the non-Russian population is especially critical, given that Russians do not form the majority of any district in the country. Singer, who has observed the immigrant influx in the neighborhood for the last twenty-five years, said that she “see[s] too much separatism that’s not healthy for a community like Brighton, which is not just Russians. I want us to be one community.”

The ethnocentric rhetoric of PRAVO that espouses the necessity of Russian representation and the occasionally distant leadership must converge in order to create change. Russians will not win elections until they broaden their base. Such a goal which will come to fruition as the immigrant community becomes more politically savvy. In the Soviet Union, exclusion was monolithic, and there was no logical reason to get involved. Now, despite many obstacles, Russians can enter the process, and their continued experience in Brighton Beach--though rocky and not without its mishaps--may serve as an example for their activity throughout the whole country.