Kost Elisevich

A national identity is something innate forged in a manner sufficient to provide peoples of diverse origins, and the generations that follow, the opportunity to mold themselves and their nation into a continuing entity that holds to the same principles which gave birth to that nation. Realization of such an identity is often reaffirmed by national tragedy and a subsequent commitment to overcome it by the gathered strength of the nation’s people. It is also realized by a continued commitment by the nation’s leadership to adhere to the principles initially set forth and to speaking truth to these principles before the people. A constitution is meant to be a palpable reminder to a nation and its leadership of this commitment.

For imperial Russia, a tsarist autocracy, such a formal document did not exist for several centuries until 1906 following a revolution the previous year. Even then, it made no effort to define the rights of the people or gave any notion of the principles of civil justice. The overthrow of tsarist rule by the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 brought forward a 1924 (Lenin) Constitution of the Soviet Union, followed by a 1936 (Stalin) Constitution, followed by a 1977 (Brezhnev) Constitution. Each revision included some deference to freedoms of speech, assembly and religion in addition to certain social rights and “duties of all citizens.” It was never apparent that any of these rights were upheld. A powerful state security mechanism ensured that freedom of speech was repressed from the outset, dissent was punished, and alternate political ideologies and parties prohibited. Harsh punishments for ostensibly relatively minor infractions were inflicted with questionable judicial oversight. Extrajudicial executions, displacements of large numbers of peoples to remote regions, and outright genocide within the Soviet Union were the norm for a Soviet leadership that had abandoned its responsibilities and gave no heed to the welfare of its people.

The constitutional rhetoric has changed little in the present circumstance inasmuch as the principles set out or the rights afforded to the people of the Russian Federation (RF). Neither has the nation’s leadership done much to alter the perception that it chooses not to abide by the established principles professed in the constitution. Just what is it that the Russian people should feel toward their own country and their national identity when they can only look upon the misdeeds of their leaders and the shame brought upon themselves and the nation by their criminal actions?

On November 9, 2022, little more than seven months following his illegal invasion of Ukraine on the pretext of defending Russia from the threat of a nonexistent Nazi regime on its border, Vladimir Putin felt obliged to edify Russians as to how they should feel about themselves.

In his decree, he shapes his vision for Russia as a remaking of its past traditional values – family, church, and country. On the surface, one might think these are laudable foundational aims until addressing the context and actual purpose of the proclamation. Russia, according to Putin, must set the moral standard by which the world should abide to counter efforts from the United States (U.S.) and its quest to undermine not only Russia’s ideological purity but the morality of all other nations. Putin clarifies this sense of purity to mean Russia’s respect for the sanctity of life, human rights and freedoms, its patriotism, and its superior sense of morality and humanism. The statement is remarkable for its shameless hypocrisy in light of the past year’s “special military operation” in Ukraine for which Russia has drawn international condemnation.

Putin has reset his focus upon painting an image of moral depravity upon the West in his newest strategy to erase his misdeeds of the recent past. In his narrative, chief among the sins of the U.S.-led Western alliance, Putin now chooses to focus attention on its promotion of the rights of the LGBTQ+ community which he regards as a threat to Russia’s traditional family values and for which there is undoubtedly, a primitive solution. The problem with Nazism appears to have been relegated to a lesser threat with this new and more expedient concern, one that perhaps may further justify Putin’s war and the killing of yet more young Russians or, for him, whatever other expendable ethnic minority Putin has fighting for his cause. Finally, in Putin’s Russia, the media will function only as a tool of the state to preserve and strengthen “traditional values” which might be understood by others to mean the abolition of truth, the furtherance of misinformation and promotion of propagandist rhetoric. Gone will be any independent authority within the state to question the corrupting influence that such a circumstance will encourage in the long term.

Putin’s notion of “Russian traditional values” amounts to a self-serving manifesto rooted in his adolescent fantasy of imperial glory, patriotic fervor, mystic spiritualism and Russian exceptionalism. It attempts to create a Russian identity in the setting of a distorted but well-developed perception of conflict with the West designed to promote hatred of others, perpetuation of global discord and Putin’s own survival. His obsession with reintroducing the past into a narrative of Russia’s future remains as misguided now as it was when he began his presidency with a reign of terror upon Chechnya more than two decades ago. This past that is so vital for Putin is only that of tsarist Russia and the Russian social order which inhabited it, meaning those connected ethnically, culturally, religiously and linguistically to the historic notion of Russianism as it evolved from its Finno-Slavic roots. This is Putin’s version of the Russian identity which contrasts with the multiethnic diversity that manifests largely to the south in the Caucasus region and throughout the east where historically the lands have been dominated by peoples of central Asiatic and Mongol ancestry. Are these people inclined to feel drawn to Putin’s idea of a Russian unity considering their history of repression, displacement, and disenfranchisement?

Putin’s Russia is more aptly called the Russian Federation (RF), an amalgamation of constituent republics and other administrative units, which was once part of a much larger Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) during the Soviet era but which collapsed in 1991 after less than 70 years of existence. Replacing it was the smaller Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) established by the Belovezh Accords of 1991 in which the RF would assume a dominant role as the inheritor of the mechanics of trade and security that was once provided during Soviet times. This ultimately, brought together 11 former republics of the USSR into a confederated association of supposedly sovereign nations that included the RF, Ukraine, Belarus, Moldova, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan. All were signatories of the Alma-Ata Protocol that provided for shared trade arranged through independent multilateral agreements and a common security. Ukraine and Turkmenistan, however, chose not to ratify the CIS Charter and so did not become full members. Georgia joined the CIS in 1993 but withdrew in 2008 at the time of the Russo-Georgian War when Putin violated Russia’s agreement in the Charter by invading Georgian sovereign territory. Ukraine formally left the CIS in 2018 following similar illegal Russian incursions within Crimea and eastern Ukraine in 2014. In May 2023, Moldova announced its desire to withdraw in protest of Russia’s practice of energy blackmail and threats to its sovereignty. A pattern of disregard for territorial sovereignty remains at the heart of Putin’s inability to undertake meaningful resolution of grievances of member states within the CIS and demonstrates his preference for their assimilation back into his imperial domain. Although certain states have remained in the fold, it appears largely to be a matter of practicality to allow them means of conducting their affairs with some promise of security despite the apparent threat.

Although the CIS quickly became a largely dysfunctional enterprise, it was still regarded by Putin as a means of influencing its members, particularly the central Asian countries, because of the threat of possible ties and potential allegiances with neighboring Asiatic nations to the east and south. Russia has abused its privilege as “first among equals” within the CIS by forcing trade relations with its CIS partners that favor its exports to enhance its own economy. Moreover, despite the Alma-Ata Protocol, Russia’s wars with Georgia and Ukraine have already shown the remaining countries of the CIS that it has no intentions of abiding by its agreement to honor a promise to preserve the sovereignty of any nation that chooses to associate with agencies, such as the European Union (EU) or the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), outside of its sphere of influence.

The creation of a CIS Convention on Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms was seen as an avenue by which the CIS might assure individual freedom of expression and security. However, the 2001 report of the European Council’s Committee on Legal Affairs and Human Rights stated that the CIS Convention served “no legitimate purpose except as a political statement or . . . as a regime which offers the minimum of human rights protection to post-Soviet states.” Moreover, the seat for the CIS Commission regarding human rights was housed in Minsk, Belarus, a nation ruled by a dictatorial regime which in the past few years has undertaken a purge of its own civil society, forcing the closure of independent mass media outlets and human rights groups. Putin’s  legacy throughout his leadership presents a litany of human rights abuses that have only escalated in the course of the current conflict in Ukraine.

What then might be said of the internal state-of-affairs in the RF itself with its landmass of 6.6 million square miles, spanning 11 time zones, and a population of 144.4 million? Until recently, more than 60% of the territory of the RF was declared uninhabitable or simply uninhabited as it was not arable land due to its permafrost but climate change is likely to alter the landscape in time. Its predominant geographic feature is the north-south range of the Ural Mountains which marks the eastern boundary of Europe and which separates the Northern European Plain (NEP) to the west from the Siberian Plain to the east. About 75% of the population of the RF lives within the NEP where the largest cities are situated, and which also accounts for about 40% of Europe’s entire landmass.

The RF has 83 territorial administrative divisions and, of these, 21 are designated national republics, each a home to a specific nonRussian ethnic or simply multiethnic predominance, and four additional autonomous districts which also contain a predominant ethnicity. More than 190 ethnicities altogether comprise more than 20% of the population and are distributed over the large landmass of the RF making it one of the largest multiethnic nations in the world. Not all of these ethnicities can claim a distinct territorial presence. Of the 21 republics and four autonomous districts that can, is there such a thing as a Russian identity or even a desire to conform to a central governmental decree that compels them to be identified with such an identity? Most of the national republics have a distinctly defined single ethnic predominance while a few are inhabited by a number of ethnic peoples. Altogether these republics contain 35 ethnic groups, whereas the four generally smaller autonomous districts contain an additional six. The presence of these nonRussian ethnic territorial distinctions underlines the nature of Russia now as a federation rather than a truly cohesive entity with a common identity and more like a transactional arrangement among administrative jurisdictions.

Approximately 80% of people living in the European domain of Russia, west of the Ural Mountains, are ethnic Russians with ethnic minorities comprised of Finnic, Germanic and Turkic peoples. The latter are not only spread across the entire RF but are found in more densely pocketed areas of the north Caucasus region between the Black and Caspian Seas, including the republics of Chechnya, Dagestan, Ingushetia, North Ossetia, Abkhazia and Kabardino-Balkaria, all of which are predominantly Muslim. There has been a long history of repression, deportation and resettlement throughout the region dating back to tsarist Russia, extending into the Soviet era and on into the time of Putin’s reign during which war crimes were documented in his brutal war with Chechnya in particular.

Results of Russia’s 2021 census released in 2022 showed significant declines in population of its ethnic minorities. The Tatars, Russia’s largest ethnic minority and of Mongol origin, showed a decline of almost 600,000 while those of the Mari, Chuvash and Udmurts fell by 22.6%, 25% and 30%, respectively. Russia was reported to have the greatest excess mortality of 37 high-income nations in 2020, particularly in the last quarter, when the COVID-19 pandemic had taken root. The territories most seriously affected were those where ethnic minorities predominated and where medical services were least available – the northern Caucasus region (Chechnya, Dagestan, Ingushetia), the southern Volga and Ural regions as well as within the Siberian Plain. Human rights abuses as manifest through neglect by the state have also been evident with such issues as the absence of laws prohibiting female genital mutilation and honor killings of women within the Muslim-dominated northern Caucasus region.  

The Russian Constitution guarantees equality for ethnic minorities irrespective of race, language, origin and religion and the RF likewise has committed its adherence to international agreements to allow a sustaining of culture, religion, language and tradition. Yet, the state has sought means to repress expressions of ethnic identity that seek to preserve minority language and culture. Widespread discrimination including hate crimes have continued unabated. Traditional lands of certain ethnic minorities have been seized and exploited by corporate entities for the purposes of mining and fossil fuel extraction. Territorial self-governing indigenous bodies have been removed, and activists repressed and indicted with fabricated criminal offenses. These attitudes have remained historically unchanged since the time of imperial Russia and were very evident still in the mid-20^th century Soviet era when a genocide was perpetrated upon the Tatar population during Stalin’s dictatorship.              

Aside from the indigenous ethnic population residing within the RF, approximately 9 million central Asian migrants live and work in the RF and come primarily from the neighboring southern nations of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, less from Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan. They have visa-free access for 90 days at a time and provide much of the labor supporting municipal services, construction, transportation, sanitation and domestic care in most major cities. Because they are distinguishable by their features from indigent Russians, they are derided for their limited familiarity with the Russian language and culture, scapegoated for social problems, targeted by police and subjected to social discrimination and racial assaults. Many have faced threats of deportation for little reason. Due to international sanctions imposed and employment lost with the departure of numerous western companies from the RF, an estimated 200,000 migrants have already returned to Central Asia in the past year. Increasingly, Central Asian migrants are being forced to sign contracts with Russia’s Defense Ministry in order to obtain Russian citizenship. The intent is to make them eligible for military recruitment in support of Russia’s war effort in Ukraine. 

The most recent evidence of abuse of ethnic minorities in the RF has been the disproportionate mortality of nonRussian military personnel participating in the 2022 invasion of Ukraine. Casualties among ethnic Dagestani, Tuvans, Bashkirs, Buryats and other nonRussian peoples on the frontlines during the initial year of war has not escaped notice. During 2022 alone, battlefield deaths (per 100,000) of ethnic minorities were two to upwards of six times that of ethnic Russians who numbered 33 per 100,000 among the dead. By comparison the relatively tiny and remote Republic of Tuva, which borders Mongolia, lost 172 per 100,000; the neighboring somewhat larger Republic of Buryatia lost 162 per 100,000, North Ossetia in the Caucasus region, which was extracted from Georgia during Russia’s 2008 invasion of that nation, lost 109 per 100,000; and the Gorno-Altai Republic, bordering Kazakhstan and Mongolia, lost 102 per 100,000. From the perspective of the population of these republics, the sacrifices appear even more egregious. Tuva’s 2021 census amounted to 337,000 while Gorno-Altai, the least populous republic in the RF, was reported to have 211,000. The lesser Autonomous District of Nenets, which borders the Arctic Ocean west of the Ural Mountains, with a population of only 42,000, lost more than 160 of its own to the war while the Autonomous District of Chukotka in the most extreme northeastern corner of the RF, with a population of 47,000, lost a similar number, each more than twice the comparative number of ethnic Russians.

Despite these incongruencies, when it came time to further mobilize troops for Putin’s “special military operation,” ethnic minorities were again excessively targeted for recruitment within particular republics and territories. Krasnoyarsk Krai is home to a great diversity of Siberia’s indigenous people among its population of 2.8 million. Mobilization here was 4.5 times greater than was actually declared in the order initially given. The smaller republics of Buryatia in southern Siberia and both Dagestan and Kalmykia in the Caucasus region provided upwards of two to three times the numbers originally declared for each. These actions might well be considered betrayals by the state when seen from the perspective of the targeted ethnic communities for their electoral support given to Putin in the past. Protests emerged in both the Caucasus and Siberia over these recent grievances and those of the past which have led to a lower standard of living than that for the average Russian.

Another element of Russian society that inevitably will be consequential for its future is its youth. A steady population decline has been occurring that has only been exacerbated in the past three years with the loss of two million more people than what had been predicted by trends in birth rate, reduced life expectancy and generally increasing mortality rate. Much of the current circumstances can be attributed to war, disease and, particularly, the recent emigration of mostly young people escaping conscription and the worsening situation regarding individual freedoms. Estimates by Moscow’s Higher School of Economics indicate a likely need for a compensatory annual migration of 390,000 into the RF for the remainder of the century to ultimately stabilize its population. But in the current state-of-affairs, migration to the RF fell from about 430,000 in 2021 to 61,900 in 2022 in which case a population decline will continue unless compensated by as many as 900,000 migrants annually for the next generation.

Moreover, Russian youth have little interest in the war with Ukraine and do not believe in the atmospherics promoted by Putin’s regime regarding Ukrainian extremists posing a threat to Russia. They do not bother with state media they know is contaminated with propagandist rhetoric and misinformation that can be easily cross-referenced and discounted with outside sources. Over 80% of urban-dwelling Russians under 30 years of age who have higher education and are exposed primarily to social media rather than state television are against the war. Younger generations are more concerned about living conditions at home with polling showing 65% of those 18 to 24 years of age believing that domestic affairs are of greater priority than foreign policy. Many youths believe that conflict with the West only limits their opportunities for travel, education and economic advantage. They are quite aware of injustices that go unpunished and of law enforcement that, at times, fails to intercede in situations pertaining to those privileged within the government or those immediately peripheral to it. Authoritarianism, no matter how well-masked, Is not an appealing prospect for them.

What then of the Russian identity with disillusionment among the youth and the need for a continuing influx of large numbers of foreigners who are likely not to share the sort of ethos instilled in the average much older Russian? As put by Igor Kochetkov, the Russian writer and human-rights activist, in the mind of the older Russian and the current regime, “It will be the end because who’s going to fight wars for us?” Putin’s response to these growing concerns has been to increase propaganda efforts in Russian schools, and to target preschoolers in order to have them assume the rhetoric not only justifying an illegal war but reminding them of his version of the current Russian reality of victimhood and the need to overcome the urge of acceding to the West’s perversions.

A monumental task faces the septuagenarian Putin and his post-Soviet camarilla. Whereas the aging Russian seeks security in the propagandist rhetoric of state media and some middle-aged Russian may still afford the self-indulgent, right-wing bravado of promoting nationalist ideology, Russia’s youth, faced with diminishing futures, have turned to outside sources of journalistic truth and opportunities through social media. They will distinguish propaganda from reality and choose the latter. It will be for them and for all those who enter from elsewhere to determine a Russian identity that speaks to the truth of their situation and presents itself in a manner that is free of Putin’s hypocrisy.

In the end, Putin’s failure as a leader has simply come about from his inability to adhere to the basic humanitarian principles of what must guide a nation, as a collective, into perpetuity, that is to speak truth to what constitutes the Russian spirit and not to manipulate it for his own purposes. It is not the language of hatred and violence that will forge a Russian identity but something entirely different.

Copyright @Kost Elisevich, MD, PhD 2023. All rights reserved. Any illegal reproduction of this content will result in immediate legal action.