One can be ironic about the "Siberian dialect," but the scale of the "We are Siberians" campaign that has unfolded online no longer evokes laughter
The reason was information that flashed in the media: "A new nationality 'Siberian' will appear in the Russian Federation, believes the head of Rosstat." True, a clarification immediately followed: they said the head of Rosstat was misunderstood. But as it turns out, it is too early to close the topic. And Siberians are only part of the problem. The pace at which the population of "new non-Russians" is growing throughout Russia threatens the existence not only of the titular nation but also of the country as a whole.
A Tempting Offer
"The self-proclamation of the Siberian people, which happened in 2010, raises the question of the national interests of Siberia." Unclear? Fortunately, the declaration of the Siberian People's Veche "About Siberian Needs" has a translation: "The self-proclamation of Siberians, which took place in 2010, puts on the agenda the issue of the national interests of Siberia..." Meet the "Siberian language." On the website "Siberian Liberty" – "a side of the Siberian dialect, Siberian eloquence and way of life" (those interested can familiarize themselves here, in particular, with the grammar of the "dialect" and a Russian-Siberian dictionary) – it is presented as a "project of a literary East Slavic language, based on the Siberian old-timer dialect of the 18th-19th centuries."
The new language has a specific creator: Tomsk entrepreneur and part-time linguist Yaroslav Zolotarev. For now, the "dialect" does not go beyond the Internet and will most likely stay there. But according to Zolotarev's admission, linguistic exercises serve a much larger goal: "If there is a language, then, by European notions, there are also grounds for the formation of a nation."
What, in turn, caused the need for a new historical community? The businessman-linguist has an answer to that as well: "The emergence of a Siberian nation is a consequence of the general crisis of the Russian Federation as a state. Naturally, many have a desire to seek some other identities, since the Russian one has obviously reached a dead end."
One can be as ironic as one wants about the invented "dialect," but the scale of the "We are Siberians" campaign that unfolded online on the eve of the All-Russian census no longer evokes laughter. The very statement by the head of Rosstat Surinov that caused the uproar originally sounded like this: "If in the previous census... Bulgars were declared as a nationality, now there is a certain noise about Siberians. So, we will be highlighting Siberians. People with Slavic and Turkic surnames complained that they are being offended as Siberians."
It seems that statisticians were at a loss when faced with the scale of the crisis of Russian national identity. It is unlikely, of course, that the entire Russian population of the 20-million-strong Siberian Federal District (where the share of Russians is 87.38 percent) registered as Siberians. But even if the count is not in millions but in tens of thousands, the "noise" turned out to be loud.
It should be clarified that the list of nationalities living in Russia was prepared before the current census. The "Alphabetical list of possible answer options for the population for coding the answer to question 7 of the Census Form L of the 2010 All-Russian Population Census" was prepared by the Institute of Ethnology and Anthropology of the Russian Academy of Sciences. Apparently, by "highlighting Siberians" Surinov meant expanding this list. But the subsequent series of "clarifications" indicates that the initiative did not receive support in the corridors of power. There will be no "Siberians" in the census report and cannot be, was categorical in a conversation with an Itogi correspondent, the director of the institute, Academician of the Russian Academy of Sciences Valery Tishkov. As for cases where "Siberian" was indicated in the "nationality" column, there is a category for them – "other nationalities."
Presumably, this category will also include another "new nationality" that appeared in the westernmost region of the country. According to information from the territorial body of Rosstat for the Kaliningrad region, many residents during the census called themselves "Kaliningraders."
Extreme Measures
Statisticians have not always adhered to a prohibitive approach to the birth of a new nation. This is also indicated by the history of censuses. For example, in 1939, the family of peoples of the USSR officially consisted of 97 "brothers," in 1989 there were already 128. And in 2002, in Russia alone, there were 158. Moreover, this is only the so-called first level: a number of nationalities are subdivided into sub-ethnic groups, which adds another two or three dozen names.
For example, in 1989, the world learned of the existence of the Enets. Before that, they were included among the Nenets or Nganasans. According to the 2002 census, the population of this people is 237 people. At the same time, 119 speak the language of their ancestors. Also in 1989, the Chuvans (1087 people), separated from the Chukchi, appeared. In 2002, the list was supplemented by the Soyots (previously recorded as Buryats), the Besermyans (ex-Udmurts), the Nagaybaks (were Tatars), the Astrakhan and Siberian Tatars, the Kryashens (baptized Tatars), the Chechens-Akkins, the Ossetians-Digors, the Ossetians-Irons... In total, the 2002 census recorded 68 new ethnic categories, including 22 "independent peoples."
Changes also occurred with Russians: two sub-ethnic groups were distinguished within them – Cossacks and Pomors. The former counted 140,028, the latter – 6,571. But on this, the process of permitted self-determination ended. And that is understandable. If the inclusion of two hundred Enets and three thousand Besermyans into the "brotherly family" was painless for it, then the fragmentation of Russians is a serious test for the country's strength. But sometimes ethnogenesis can begin without any permission.
In some cases—like with the Pomors or Cossacks—the process of searching for identity is focused on returning to roots. When there is nothing to remember, roots are simply invented. Roughly the same way the creators of the film "Ovsyanki" invented the customs and morals of the vanished Merya tribe. The film's heroes are residents of the small town of Neia (Kostroma Oblast), located on the river of the same name. "Neia, Unzha, Poksha, Vokhtoma... beautiful names left from the Merya, a Finnish tribe that dissolved among the Slavs about 400 years ago," says a character with the strange (as he claims, Meryan) name Aist. And this fully corresponds to historical facts.
Much more debatable is another statement: "Many here still consider themselves Merya. This is their northern periphery, and the northern periphery is always more mindful." However, according to the director of "Ovsyanki," Alexei Fedorchenko, the film does not claim authenticity: "This is an ideal myth. We were interested not in ethnography, but in human relationships."
Be that as it may, the fairy tale is becoming reality before our eyes. On the Internet today you can find many resources dedicated to studying the "Meryan heritage." The leitmotif: the Merya have not gone anywhere. They still inhabit the places of their traditional residence (Kostroma, Yaroslavl, Nizhny Novgorod, and several other oblasts). But they call themselves "Russians" and do not remember where they came from. Most materials are emphatically apolitical. But occasionally thoughts creep in that go beyond local history. A typical example: "It is in such 'bear's corners' (referring to the Vokhomsk district of Kostroma Oblast. – Itogi) that one can survive the soon and inglorious end of the Empire... Moscow has no future."
Today this forecast seems like a crazy horror story. But there are no nightmares that man cannot bring to life. Given the right circumstances.
From sunset to disintegration
The words of the Soviet anthem accurately described the process of state formation: "...Great Rus' united forever." Of course, the hymn writer got a bit carried away with "forever." But it is true that the indestructibility of the union is directly linked to the greatness of Rus'. It is unlikely that anyone will claim that in December 1991 the Russian nation was on the rise. There is even an opinion that worse than then, they say, is no longer possible. But there are "optimists" who believe that it can still get worse, that the process of disintegration has not stopped, but only been frozen. And the thaw is very near.
The hottest spot on the country's map is traditionally considered to be the North Caucasus. But many experts believe that trouble will come from a completely different direction. "If we assume the most sad scenario—the collapse of Russia—then the Caucasus will be the last to leave," believes Alexei Malashenko, a member of the scientific council of the Carnegie Moscow Center. Multi-ethnicity, large population, and low level of economic development make this region incapable of "free floating."
According to the expert, a much greater danger is posed by the Russian periphery: Kaliningrad, Siberia, the Far East. The population there increasingly irritatedly regards "Moscow's interference" in their affairs, Malashenko states. "This does not mean they will run away tomorrow," the expert explains. But such sentiments clearly do not contribute to strengthening the unity of the country.
According to political scientist Stanislav Belkovsky, "Russia, by a number of signs, is entering a stage of civilizational decline." One such symptom is the awakening of new national identities, from which proto-states will subsequently begin to grow. True, disintegration can be avoided, the political scientist reassures. But saving the country will require titanic efforts. On the agenda is the question of re-establishing the state, transforming it either into an empire with a constitutional monarch at its head, or into a nation-state of Russians.
The "panic-mongers," however, are still in the minority. Reading their opponents is much more pleasant. In these forecasts, multinational Russia becomes richer, stronger, and more friendly every day. It is only unclear why, as universal happiness approaches, the process of national disunity is gaining momentum. Siberians and Kaliningraders are, by the way, just the tip of the iceberg. Some "national projects" are downright bewildering. How do you like, for example, the idea of creating the state of "Zalesskaya Rus'" (in place of the current Central Federal District), the projects "Debryanskaya Rus'" (Bryansk Oblast), "Republic of Ingermanland" (St. Petersburg and Leningrad Oblast), or "Free Chernozemye"?
Fruits of a sick imagination? Perhaps. But in any case, this is only a symptom, not the disease itself. Of course, each case must be examined individually. In some places, the reason for the emergence of "new non-Russians" is real ethnographic features. In others, it is an intellectual game, in others, it is mind games requiring psychiatric intervention. But all these cases have one common feature: the newly-minted "fathers of nations" unanimously denounce the capital, which is indifferent to the aspirations of the provinces. And these sentiments have a breeding ground.
In the absence of a clearly formulated national policy, Moscow treats with apprehension and at the same time with deference the ethnic groups and entire regions prone to separatism. And strengthening the "family of peoples" ultimately comes down to generous financial privileges. Hence the temptation: shouldn't we also scare the federal center with separatism? In the case of Siberians, who have virtually all the country's wealth under their feet, such tactics could be very effective.
The problem is compounded by the fact that Moscow has blocked almost all channels of feedback with the regions. The state, while federal according to the Constitution, has long been unitary in essence. In other words, people feel that in a large country nothing depends on them. And that means it's time to create their own, "little Rus'." Well, if that's all there is to it, then the disease is curable in principle. If, of course, it is not neglected.
Andrei VLADIMIROV.
