1
NATIONBUILDING IN EURASIA
Pal Kolsto, University of Oslo
Seemingly, fifteen new states were established in Eurasia in 1991 after
the demise of Communism in the Soviet Union. However, a 'state' in the
full sense of the word does not come about simply by a political
proclamation of independence, still not by international recognition. A
true state must have control of its own frontiers, a monopoly of coercive
powers on its territory, be able to collect tolls and taxes, etc. To carry
out these tasks a modicum of administrative apparatus is needed, as
well as a broad consensus in society of the rules and routines for how
the jobs shall be done.
In the fall of 1991 these preconditions were generally not fulfilled in
any of the Soviet successor states. The armed forces on their territories
and the levers of economic policy were beyond the control of the new
state authorities. There also were no border defence systems between
the new states, indeed, state borders were not even delineated in the
terrain.
For these reasons it is more appropriate to say that on New Year's Day
1992 the groundwork for the building of fifteen new states in Eurasia
were laid. The establishment of governmental institutions and other
state attributes is a prolonged process which will continue for decades.
In this article, however, I will leave aside the economic and institutional
aspects of of this process and instead focus on some crucial political and
cultural issues, 'nation-building' in the strict sense of the word as
distinct from 'state-building'. In order to keep a state together in the
modern world, it is essential that its population have a common identity
and a shared feeling of common destiny. The citizens must be bound
together by loyalty towards the same institutions, symbols and values.
This does not necessarily imply that all inhabitants of the state must
partake in the same ethnic identity. National identity may, and in many
cases must, be political rather than cultural.
The USSR prided itself of being a 'multinational state', indeed, some
hundred different ethnic groups were registered as living on its
territory. In contrast, with one exception, all of the successor states,
have been proclaimed as 'national states' or 'nation-states'.1 This basic
concept can have (at least) two very different meanings. In the West,
the dominant understanding is that of a political and civic entity, in
which the nation is delineated on the basis of common territory,
common government and to some extent common political history.
There exists, however, a rival concept of a nation as a cultural entity,
based on common language, traditions, mores, religion, etc. in short: an
ethnic nation. This concept has deep roots in Russia, for several reasons.
In Western Europe the driving force behind the creation of consolidated
nation-states was primarily the bourgeoisie, but in Russia this social
group was numerically weak and without political clout. The dynastic,
imperial state, in which the attempts of conscious nation-building were
few and ham-fisted, was able to hold the ground much longer. Under
such conditions the various language groups developed into strong
national identities.2
These age-long experiences of the tsar's subjects were reinforced in the
Soviet period. The idea behind the Soviet federation was to mollify all
major ethnic groups by giving them the trappings of their own
statehood. These groups became the titular nationalities of the various
Union republics: The Ukraine Soviet Republic was named after the
ethnic Ukraines, the Turkmen SSR after the Turkmen tribes, etc. Within
their 'own' territory the titular nationalities were given certain special
cultural rights, particularly as regards educational opportunities and
language policy.3 At the same time Soviet authorities did nothing to
create ethnically pure Union republics in the demographic sense. The
many ethnic groups had for centuries been living strongly intermingled
with each other, and considerable interrepublican migration further
complicated the ethnic map.
This is the dual legacy which the new states of Eurasia have to come to
grips with when they today embark upon their various nation-building
projects: on the one hand, an exclusionary nation concept which equates
the nation with the ethnic group. On the other hand, a medley of
disparate ethnic groups on the state territory. With the partial exception
of Armenia, the non-titular population everywhere make up
considerable minorities, in some cases close to half of the total. (see
table)
After four years of post-Soviet nation-building certain patterns are
emerging. Almost everywhere the titular nation has been placed in the
centre of the project and given certain prerogatives, implicitly or
explicitly. For instance, everywhere the language of the titular nation
has been elevated to the status of state language. It would, however, be
wrong to claim that the new states of Eurasia are based exclusively on
the ethnic principle. Their new state structures embody elements taken
from both the civic and the ethnic model. These two nation concepts
seem to be living in uneasy co-habitation.
In ethnic nation-building the symbols and traditions of the state are
identified with the symbols and traditions of titular nation. The state
authorities try to bring about a maximum correspondence between the
ethnic and political nation. The preferred methods are outmigration of
the minorities and/or their exclusion from the political decision-making.
Two other methods, assimilation and border revisions, which also could
lead to greaster cultural homogeneity of the state, are less popular. Few
nation-builders will countenance a truncation of state territory as a
result of transfers of minority-inhabited regions to neighbouring states.
Ethnically oriented nation-builders are also afraid that the assimilation
of large minority communities may dilute the purity of their ethnic
group. The minorities, they believe, should learn the state language,
venerate the traditions and history of the titular nation, but not merge
with it.
In a civic nation-building project the authorities will try to secure the
political loyalty of all inhabitants without encroaching upon their
cultural distinctiveness. Political rights are extended to all inhabitants
on an equal footing. Political traditions and symbols common to all
ethnic groups are cultivated, or, if necessary, created from scratch. One
of the shortcomings of this strategy is the weaker emotive power of
supraethnic symbols. They may easily by dismissed as artifacts, which
of course in a sense they are. Nevertheless, large population groups in
multiethnic societies may develop a double set of identities: Politically,
they are proud of being citizens of this particular state, culturally, they
identify strongly with their own ethnic group. Large groups in for
instance multiethnic United States have this kind of dual identity.
A final complicating factor in Eurasian nation-building is the lack of
ethnic consolidation of the titular nations themselves. In many areas
there are strong group loyalties on lower levels, towards the tribe, clan,
subethnos, or region, competing with the ethnic identity. Many of the
'nations' of Central Asia are recent constructs of modern ethnographers
and Communists politicians, who wanted to create quasi nation-states in
the area in order to break down allegiances to such overarching
ideologies as pan-Turkism and the Muslim Ummah. Even in such a
Western nation as the Ukrainians the process of ethnic consolidation is
not yet fully completed. There are strong cultural differences between
Galicia in the West and Donbass in the East of the country. In cases when
the ethnic consolidation and political nation-building are parallel
processes, they often interfere with each other, and may even be
collapsed into a single venture of ethnic nation-building.
Below I will compare the nation-building projects in the various Soviet
successor states with regard to their respective preconditions,
declaratory aims, and the means employed. While there are many
common features, there are also important differences. Up to a point
these variations are due to demographic, historical and other 'objective'
circumstances. Political decisions and other 'subjective' factors, however,
also play their part. In some countries the nation builders have been
able to follow one and the same strategy more or less consistently, in
other places abrupt changes have occurred.4
The Baltics.
The Estonians, Latvians and Lithuanians are all well consolidated as
ethnic groups. (A partial exception is the Latvians; the strong
regionalism among Eastern Latgallians is a source of some tension.) This
means that the questions of how the nation should be defined revolves
around the relationship to the non-titular groups, primarily the Russians
and other Russophones who arrived in large numbers in the Soviet
period.
The fact that the three Baltic countries were independent states in the
interwar period has a strong bearing upon their choice of nation-
building strategy today. During perestroika the Balts did not proclaim
the independence of new states, but restored the states which had been
forcibly incorporated into the Soviet Union half a century earlier. In
contrast to the twelve other post-Soviet states they do not see
themselves as 'Soviet successor states' at all. They do not lay claim to
any part of the property or outstanding claims of the former Soviet
Union but instead demand reparations for the damage which has been
inflicted upon them during the occupation.
The interwar state symbols - flags, anthems, insignia, etc. - are
reinstituted and have the strong emotional appeal which state
authorities in all countries want to invest in such symbols. This is due
not least to the fact that they were outlawed in the Soviet period and
during perestroika were used as democratic countersymbols to the
detested Soviet emblems.
Table 1
ETHNICITY IN THE SOVIET SUCCESSOR STATES, 1989 IN % OF THE TOTAL
POPULATION.
STATE titular
population largest
minority
group next largest
minority
group
Russia 81.5 Tatars
3.7 Ukrainians
2.9
Estonia 61.5 Russians
30.3 Ukrainians
3.0
Latvia 51.8 Russians
34.0 Belorusian
4.5
Lithuania 79.5 Russians
9.4 Poles
7.0
Belarus 77.8 Russians
13.2 Poles
4.0
Moldova 64.4 Ukrainians
13.8 Russians
13.0
Ukraine 72.7 Russians
22.1 Jews
0.9
Georgia 70.0 Armenians
7.9 Russians
6.3
Armenia 93.3 Azeri
2.5 Kurds
1.7
Azerbaijan 82.6 Russians
5.6 Armenians
5.5
Turkmenistan 71.8 Russians
9.5 Uzbeks
8.8
Tajikistan 62.2 Uzbeks
23.3 Russians
7.6
Uzbekistan 71.2 Russians
8.3 Tajiks
4.6
Kyrgyzstan 52.2 Russians
21.5 Uzbeks
12.9
Kazakhstan 39.6 Russians
37.8 Germans
5.7
Source: Natsional'nyi sostav naseleniia SSSR, Moscow, 1991
Contemporary Baltic nation-builders do not feel obliged to resurrect the
entire interwar heritage. The Latvians have reenacted the prewar
constitution, but after three years of bitter strife finally adopted a brand
new citizenship law. Estonia has done conversely. A new constitution
was enacted in 1992 while the 1938 citizenship law has been
reestablished, although with significant amendments. Both countries,
however, agree that only citizens of the interwar republic and their
descendants belong to the original body politic. All present-day
permanent residents who have moved to the country in the Soviet
period must apply for citizenship on a par with recent immigrants and
fulfil relatively stringent naturalization criteria of for instance
proficiency in the state language. Of approximately 600 thousand non-
titulars in Estonia and 900 thousand in Latvia, less than a fourth have
qualified for automatic citizenship. As a result, the political nation in
both countries is a considerably smaller body than the total number of
permanent residents.
In Lithuania, the decision to re-enact the interwar republic has not been
linked to the citizenship issue and all permanent residents have been
granted full political rights. There are primarily two reasons for this.
The titular nation's share of the population is considerably larger.
Lithuanians do not perceive their ethnic distinctiveness as threatened
by alien cultural impulses to the same degree as many Estonians and
Latvians obviously do. Furthermore, the Lithuanian citizenship law was
adopted in November 1989, at a time when Lithuanian independence
was not yet internationally recognized. Indeed, the adoption of this law
was used as a means to achieve such recognition. A restrictive law
would have been counterproductive towards that end, since many world
leaders and international organizations signalled strong concern for
minority protection in the would-be post-Soviet states. In order to avoid
this predicament, the citizenship debate in Estonia and Latvia was
postponed until after independence.
Officially, the Latvian and Estonian treatment of the citizenship issue is
based strictly on constitutional law. Most observers, however, see it as
ethnically motivated: the law-makers are concerned not so much with
the rights of the pre-war citizens, as with the well-being of the titular
nationality. Sometimes distinctions between titulars and non-titulars are
explicitly made in official documents. For instance, the March 1992
Latvian language law clearly favors Latvian speakers, much more so
than did the previous 1989 law. The legislators justify this as necessary
to secure the survival of the ethnic Latvia nation. 'Latvia is the only
ethnic territory (sic) in the world inhabited by the Latvian nation'.
(Diena, Riga, 24 April 1992) In Estonia, the citizenship law stipulates
that the language requirements for citizenship may be waived in the
case of ethnic Estonians returning to the homeland of their ancestors.
Similar clauses may be found in the naturalization laws of Germany,
Greece, etc., but it nevertheless undermines the ostensibly strict
legalistic rationale behind the denial of automatic citizenship to Soviet
immigrants.
Moldova.
The ethno-political situation in Moldova is unique in one respect: The
Moldovans speak a Romanian dialect, and in the interwar period most of
present-day Moldova was a Romanian province. For these reasons,
Moldova has usually been regarded as a Romanian irredenta, and
separate Moldovan nation-building was believed to be utterly quixotic,
no less impossible than was East German nation-building. Moldovan
nationalism, it was expected, would inevitably lead to demands for
Romanian-Moldovan reunification. The ethnic consolidation of the
Moldovan group was incomplete, not because it contained any
significant subgroups, but because it was itself regarded as a subgroup
of another ethnos.
For a while Moldovan perestroika activists seemed to confirm the
prognoses of Western experts on nationalism. As soon as Moldovan
independence had been achieved in the fall of 1991, the Moldovan
Popular Front began to press for unification. To its immense chagrin and
surprise it discovered that neither the masses nor the elites took to the
idea. President Mircea Snegur, a former apparatchik, now the main
Moldovan nation-builder, launched the slogan of 'ethnic Romanianness
and political Moldovanness', which caught on. Since the fall of Ceausescu
Romania had not been a rose garden, neither in economic nor in political
terms. Many old Moldovans also remembered that in the interwar
period Bucarest politicians had treated their region as a backwater
province and done precious little to make it prosper. In addition, after
independence many Moldovan intellectuals who had received
prestigious jobs in the new state apparatus realized that in the case of
unification their nice titles would disappear again. It is certainly more
impressive to be, for instance, director of a Moldovan national bank than
to head the local branch of a Romanian national bank. Often rather
mundane considerations play their part in nation-building processes.
Finally, the deteriorating relationship with the ethnic minorities
discouraged the Moldovans from pursuing the unification project. Non-
Moldovans make up almost a third of the total population and certainly
did not look forward to a minority status in Greater Romania together
with Hungarians, Gypsies and other beleaguered groups. Partly as a
result of such apprehensions the Slav-dominated enclave east of the
Dniester river proclaimed independence from Chisinau in September
1990. The area has embarked upon its own, ostensibly supraethnic
state-building. In conscious contrast to Moldova, where only Moldovan
alias Romanian enjoys status as state language, the Dniester Moldovan
Republic has no less than three state languages, Moldovan, Ukrainian
and Russian. The latter language, however, clearly dominates official
business.5
To the West of the Dniester Moldovan national rhetoric underwent a
remarkable transformation. As long as the Popular Front held sway in
Chisinau, official documents were permeated by a higher degree of
ethnic language than perhaps in any other Soviet successor state. The
Moldovan declaration of independence on 27 August 1991 was most
ambiguous on the issue of reunification vs. Moldovan nation-building,
but crystal clear as regards the ethnic definition of the nation.
Independence was declared Ôin recognition of the thousand year
existence of our people and its uninterrupted statehood within the
historical and ethnic boundaries of its national formationÕ. Similar
expressions abounded in law texts and other documents from this
period.
In the spring and summer of 1992 a full albeit limited war between
Chisinau and the Dniester secessionists was won by the latter with the
support of Russian military units stationed in the area. Two years later
political rhetoric in Chisinau was changed towards civic, non-ethnic
nation-building, and there can be little doubt that the military defeat
greatly contributed to this new departure. As a small country deficient
in resources, squeezed between mightier neighbours, Moldova has
adjusted its policy to the harsh realities. Moldova is today officially no
longer a national state of the Moldovans, but a 'multinational state.' The
Turkic-speaking Gagauzs in the southern part of the country have been
granted territorial autonomy on liberal terms, and similar conciliatory
overtures are made also to the East bank secessionists. It will be
increasingly difficult for the Dniestrovians to justify their separate
state-building project.
Belarus and Ukraine.
A crucial factor in any nation-building project is the cultural distance
between the titular group and the numerically largest minorities. A
short distance will presumably make it easier to gain acceptance among
all groups in society for the same symbols and values. A ranking list of
the Soviet successor states along this dimension will put Belarus and
Ukraine at the top. In both states the titular nation and the largest
minorities are all Eastern Slavs who speak related tongues. Together,
they make up close to 95% of the total population. Orthodoxy is the
overwhelmingly predominant religion. Thus, one would think, some
propitious preconditions for successful nation-building are in place.
However, the looming proximity of Russia, a much stronger East Slav
state which has ruled Belarus and Ukraine for centuries, greatly
complicates the picture. Historically, the Russians have exerted a strong
cultural pressure on their Slav neighbours. In Tsarist and Soviet times
the close cultural affinity among the groups facilitated linguistic
Russification of important segments of the Ukraine and Belarus
populations, not least of the intellectual elites. The dilemma of
Belarusian and Ukrainian nation-building today is the need a define a
separate identity for its citizens without alienating its large Russians and
Russified population groups.
Alongside the political process of nation-building a parallel project of
ethnic consolidation in the two countries is attempted. Efforts are make
to reduce and hopefully overcome the contrasts between the
Russophones and the native-speaking members of the titular ethnos.
This consolidation process is twofold: On the one hand, a common
Ukrainian and a common Belorussian identity is sought for, on the other
hand, a separate identity must be created by differentiation from the
Russian one. Thus, while the political project of state-building requires a
rapprochement and easing of contrasts to the local Russians and other
Russophones, the ethnic consolidation project on the contrary demands
the establishment of maximum contrast between the titular ethnic
group and all things Russian.
Most evidence indicates that the Belorussian nation-building has
foundered on these rocks. To be sure, also Belarus has acquired her own
state emblem, anthem, stamps, etc., and Belarusians participate in
international conferences and sports tournaments under Belarusian
flags. However, very few Belorussians have developed any strong sense
of Belorusianness, culturally or politically. Belorusian political leaders
have not managed, many of them not even tried, to define an
independent political course for their country, separate from Moscow's.
In January 1994 the leading Belarusian nationalist Zianon Pazniak in
desperate tones warned his fellow countrymen against throwing
themselves into the alluring Russian embrace: 'No adequate European
Russian nation has ever been formed... This patchwork of a nation does
not have any defined national territory... Its dominating consciousness is
imperial, not national.' (Narodna gazeta, Minsk, 15-17 January 1994.)
This diatribe fell on deaf ears. In May 1995 the populist Belarusian
president Lukashenko scored a landslide victory in a referendum on
closer rapprochement with Russia and the introduction of Russian as a
second state language. Eventually, he hoped, a Russian-Belarusian
federation or confederation would be established.
In a comparative perspective the causes behind failed nation-building in
an internationally recognized, independent state are just as interesting,
if not more so, than the success stories. To some extent, the Belarusian
failure reflects the undeveloped nature of Belarusian selfawereness. But
world history knows of many cases where the state was established first
and the nation shaped afterwards within its bosom. A case in point is
the Middle East where identification with the new states created in this
century clearly seem to be supplanting cultural Pan-Arabism. Another
case is Latin American nationalism, which clearly also is a purely
political product. Although the Belarusian case clearly needs more study,
I do not believe that its outcome was historically predetermined. The
rather different fate of modern nation-building in Ukraine, sharing
many of the same cultural and historical preconditions as Belarus,
should also serve as a warning against oversimplified cultural
explanations.
Ukrainian nationalism is incomparably more resilient than Belarusian
nationalism. Both the Ukrainian ethnos and the Ukrainian state have
clearly come to stay. The boundaries of the ethnic Ukrainian group as
well as of the Ukrainian nation in the political sense, however, are still
in flux.
Prior to World War II the Ukrainian nation was divided among two or
more states: Russia/USSR to the East and the Habsburg
monarchy/Poland/Romania to the West. In the face of strong cultural
pressures from the Poles, who dominated the region demographically
and politically, the Ukrainians in Habsburg Galicia developed a strong
sense of ethnic identity. This identity was not primarily 'Galician' but
'Ukrainian': they felt a strong sense of solidarity with their Eastern
brethren of whom they admittedly had scant knowledge.
In the quasi-nation state of the Ukrainian SSR the Galicians managed to
withstand Russification in much the same way as they had previously
braved Polonization. In Soviet times there was also no major influx of
Russian immigrants to the region such as took place into the Baltics.
Western Ukraine became a greenhouse of Ukrainianness and Ukrainian
nationalism. During and immediately after the perestroika period
Galicians dominated political life in Ukraine far out of proportion to their
numbers, and secured an unmistakable cultural Ukrainian imprint on
the Ukrainian state concept. With more than 11m Russians and 4.5m
Ukrainians claiming Russian as their mother tongue in the country,
Ukrainian was nevertheless proclaimed as the sole state language.
History text-books asserted that the medieval state of Kievian Rus' was
a Ukrainian state, plain and simple, not the cradle of Russian statehood,
as was taught in Moscow, nor a common East Slav civilization. An
ancient Kievian symbol, the trident, was chosen as state emblem. During
World War II this symbol had been used by Galician nationalists
fighting against Soviet power, and it was less than popular among
Eastern Ukrainians who during the same war had fought under Soviet
standards.
Nonetheless, the official Ukrainian nation concept is clearly inclusive and
civic rather than cultural and exclusive in character. In stark contrast to
contemporaneous political rhetoric in neighboring Moldova,
the Ukrainian proclamation of sovereignty in 1990 invested state
sovereignty not in the Ukrainian ethnos, but in 'the people of Ukraine'.
President Kravchuk declared that the Russians in Ukraine should not be
considered as an alien minority. They were no less indigenous than the
Ukrainians themselves. (Pravda, 16 July 1991) Admittedly, this
generous attitude was not fully reflected in the 1992 Ukrainian law on
national minorities which distinguishes sharply between ethnic
Ukrainians and the 'minorities'. The civic purport of official Ukrainian
nation-building was nevertheless indisputable, and has been reinforced
under president Leonid Kuchma after his election in the summer of
1994.
In his inauguration speech Kuchma proposed that Ukrainian should
retain its position as the only state language while Russian should be
elevated to a status as 'official language'. This proposal arose the ire of
Ukrainian nationalists who feared a new wave of creeping Russification.
Under the telling headline 'No language - no people: no people, no state',
the chairman of the Ukrainian Parliament Committee on Question of
Culture and Spirituality, Mykola Kosiv, retorted:
'Ukraine is the Fatherland of the Ukrainian people, who have
realized their holy right to self-government and created the
Ukrainian state in which also some national minorities are
living ... The Russian people is living in Russia, while some
minor parts of this people are living as national minorities in
Ukraine' (Holos Ukrainy, Kiev, 16 September 1994).
Clearly, the battle for the content of 'The Ukrainian nation' is still not
over.
Transcaucasia.
The major nationalities in the Asian parts of the former USSR are less
ethnically consolidated than their European counterparts. The one clear
exception to this rule is the Armenians who have developed a strong
common identity centered around the traumatic memory of the 1915
massacre and allegiance to the Armenio-Gregorian church.
By contrast, the second major Christian people of Transcaucasia, the
Georgians, have still not fully coalesced into one homogeneous nation.
The various sub-ethnoses - the Kartli, Svans, Mingrelians, etc. - have
retained a high degree a separate identity. The bloody civil war of 1992
between the followers of Zviad Gamsakhurdia and the central Tbilisi
authorities must be understood against this background. Gamsakhurdia
was a Mingrelian and his main power base Mingrelia.
In addition to strong intra-ethnic tensions in Georgia there is even
stronger inter-ethnic antagonism. As Andrei Sakharov remarked in
1989 (Ogonek, 1989 no.31), Georgia can be regarded as an empire no
less than was the USSR. The point is not that Georgia contains a large
number of ethnic groups, which do all Soviet successor states, but in the
structure of the relationship between the minorities and the Georgian-
dominated centre. The smaller Caucasian people fear Georgian
hegemonistic aspirations while the Georgians tend to see a drive for
secession behind any initiative for greater local autonomy.
As a legacy of the Communist era Georgia in 1991 contained within
herself three autonomous formations -- Ajaria, Abkhazia and South
Ossetia. Only the Ajars (in effect Muslim Georgians), are reconciled to
their status in the Georgian state, while both South Ossetia and Abkhazia
have been theatres of bloody military clashes. In 1992 Tbilisi abrogated
the autonomous status of both these autonomies in an effort to create a
unified, centralized Georgian state. In Abkhazia this led to an all-out
ethnic civil war.
War is one of the strongest identity producers available. In armed
conflicts the We-They contrast, so essential to identity formation, is
drawn as with a scalpel. Civil wars reinforce tribal, sub-national
identities and are strongly deleterious to nation-building. By contrast,
wars between countries may have the opposite effect of rallying the
entire population around the national leaders against the foreign
adversary. Thus, as regards nation-building, the protracted war between
Armenia and Azerbaijan in southern Transcaucasia may have rather
different outcomes from the many wars on Georgian soil.
However, in Soviet times the largest national minority in Armenia were
the Azeris (2.5%) and the second largest community in Azerbaijan were
the Armenians (5.5%). These groups could hardly be expected to partake
in nation-building projects explicitly directed against their ethnic
brethren across the border. This problem disappeared after the huge
ethnic de-mixing of 1988-89, in which no less than 150 thousand Azeris
left Armenia for their 'ethnic homeland' while just as many Armenians
moved in the opposite direction. This indicates that nation-building in
both countries is basically ethnic rather than civic, despite the granting
of full political rights to the entire populace.
Central Asia.
The traditionally nomadic nations of Central Asia, such as the Turkmens,
Kyrgyzs and Kazakhs, are divided into tribes and tribal confederations,
while the old sedentary cultures around the southern oases in Tajikistan
and Uzbekistan have retained strong hierarchally structured clan
loyalties. Both kinds of sub-national cleavages in society impede the
consolidation of national identities.
The Soviet Communists often allowed one or some local clans or tribes to
dominate political life in the various Asian republics, either as an
exercise of divide-and-rule, or because they were unable to evict the
traditionally dominant groups from the seats of power. In 1993 the
rivalry between the favoured and underprivileged clans in Tajikistan
erupted into a ferocious civil war in which the ideological banners of
'Communism', 'Islamism' and 'democracy' were but thin fig leaves
covering a naked power struggle. Since the war the victors, the Khojent-
and Kuliab-based 'communists', have not been willing to share power
with the conquered clans, and the embers of warfare are still
smouldering.
The complete breakdown of social order in Tajikistan served as an
object lesson to the authorities in its neighbor states. In various ways
they have acted to prevent similar calamities in their own countries. In
Turkmenistan president Niazov has introduced a neo-totalitarian
personal dictatorship in which leaders of the various tribes are
studiously promoted to high profile posts of token authority. Much of
the same recipe is followed also by president Karimov in Uzbekistan.
In ethnic terms the Uzbek nation is a strange mixture of various ethnic
layers. The nomadic Shaibanid Uzbek tribes who conquered the region
in the early sixteenth century have merged with the autochthonous
populations, but not quite. Substantial sub-national identities linger on,
although it is not clear to what extent they can be mobilized for political
purposes.
At the same time the Uzbeks as a group are numerous and powerful
enough to be regarded by the titular nations in neighboring states as the
potential hegemon of the region. Fears of Uzbek domination have served
as a damper on Central Asian cooperation and integration. In spite of
themselves the Uzbeks have contributed to national consolidation in the
adjacent states. This seems to be the case in for instance Kyrgyzstan,
where common suspicion of Uzbek designs have kept in check strong
animosity between Northern and Southern Kyrgyz tribes.
Another factor which boosts the formation of supra-tribal and supra-
clannish identities among the Central Asians, is the presence of large
European communities in their midst. In Transcaucasia demographic
Slav penetration was never strong, but in all Central Asian states
Russians, Ukrainians and Belorussians form considerable minorities. This
is particularly true of the North-Eastern ones, Kyrgyzstan and
Kazakhstan. During World War II the Slavic settler communities were
joined by other Europeans such as Germans and Poles who were
deported there for political reasons. In the local popular mind, all of
these groups are often indiscriminately lumped together as 'the
Russians'. This is done more on the basis of language and culture than on
racial criteria. Also Volga-Tatar immigrants and even local Koreans
(deported to the area by Stalin in the 1930s) are regularly regarded as
members of the 'Russian' group on the basis of their preferred language
of communication.
In the 20th century Central Asian societies have been characterized by a
marked ethno-social bifurcation. The indigenous culture dominates
completely in the countryside while the cities have been formed in the
Soviet-style European mould. In 1989 no more than 27% of the
inhabitants of the Kyrgyzstani capital were ethnic Kyrgyzs while 65%
were Europeans. The figures for the Kazakhstani capital were even more
disadvantageous for the titular nation. In this country at large the
Kazakhs in 1989 constituted 39.5% and the Russophones 47%.
The Kazakhstani ethno-demographic situation may be compared to the
Latvian one. Both countries ought to be described as bicultural rather
than multicultural. The vast majority of the population partake in one of
two major linguistic cultures of roughly equal size, the Russophone and
the indigenous cultures. The tenor of official nation-building in these
two countries, however, is rather different. While in Latvia the Latvian
ethnos is regarded as the core and main component of the political
Latvian nation, the Kazakhstani president Nazarbaev is strenuously
promoting a supraethnic nation concept. In May 1993 he pointed out
that
In the world there are quite a few states, even very
prospering ones, in which there are more different nations and
nationalities than we have in Kazakhstan. In these countries
patriotism is especially strongly developed. A devotional
attitude towards the state symbols reigns in society. For
instance, at the beginning of the school day, during the
swearing in of a jury or an official, and at many other events
and mass gatherings the state flag is being flyed and the
national anthem is being played. (Sovety Kazakhstana, Almaty,
13 May 1993)
This is civic nation-building in pure form. Obviously, Nazarbaev's
prototype is USA. In order to combat ethnic polarization of national
politics Nazarbaev has encouraged the creation of of political parties
reaching out to all ethnic groups. Only to a limited extent has this
strategy been successful. Politics are gradually being monopolized by
ethnic Kazakhs. In the parliament which was dissolved in 1995 there
were 103 ethnic Kazakh deputies as against 49 Russians. There are no
strong reasons to expect that this imbalance will decrease in the next
elections.
Politics in Kazakhstan are largely a matter of striking the necessary
compromises between the three large Kazakh hordes (zhuzes), the Great,
Middle and Small horde. For instance, the decision to move the capital
from the south to the northern city of Akmola (Tselinograd), away from
the stronghold of the Great horde, should probably be seen in this light,
rather than as an attempt to move the centre of political decision
making closer to the Slav heartland.
To some extent the exclusion of Europeans from influence and control in
society is a result of social dynamics outside Nazarbaev's control.
However, also on the legislative level a preferential treatment of ethnic
Kazakhs and of Kazakh culture is discernible. The Kazakhstani
constitution opens up for dual citizenship for ethnic Kazakhs living
abroad (many Kazakhs fled to China and Mongolia under Stalin) while
dual citizenship is denied to Russians living in Kazakhstan. Also, the
Kazakhstani immigration law allows for free return of ethnic Kazakhs
from abroad but stipulates quota regulations for other ethnic groups.
Particularly galling to the local Russians is the renaming of Slavic towns
and streets in Kazakh manner in compactly Slavic areas. Clearly, this
runs counter to the professed goal of civic nation-building.
In small mountainous Kyrgyzstan Central Asia's most ambitious
experiment in Western-style democracy has been launched. President
Akaev allows a degree of press freedom unprecedented in the region
but it can be argued that this licence has increased rather than eased
ethnic tension in society. In the freewheeling Kyrgyzstani media
pluralism even the most rabid nationalists and xenophobes can find a
publisher and scare up his neighbors.
There are some similarities between Moldovan and Kyrgyzstani
nationalism. In both countries there is a streak of racism and extremism
among the very small but aggressive cultural elite. Perhaps we are
entitled to see in this some kind of social regularity: the shrillness of
nationalist rhetoric is likely to increase in proportion to the frailty of the
national intelligentsia.
President Akaev has had to exert his full authority to avoid the passing
of blatantly ethnically biased legislation in the Kyrgyzstani parliament,
such as a law stipulating that all Kyrgyzstani land belongs to the Kyrgyz
ethnic group. Kyrgyzstani nationalists, however, have not been put in
place as have their Moldovan counterparts but still represent a force to
be reckoned with. Under Communism the Kyrgyzs were often
condescendingly treated by the Slavs as ignorant hill-billies, and
Akaev is heedful of the desires of his ethnic brethren to receive a place
in the sun. To a larger extent than the legislation in most Soviet
successor states, the Kyrgyzstani constitution gives the ethnic Kyrgyz
group a privileged status in the nation-building project. As the preamble
states, 'We, the people of Kyrgyzstan, strive to secure the national
renaissance of the Kyrgyzs and to defend and develop the interests of
the representatives of the other nationalities.' The Europeans ask
sarcastically: against whom shall we be defended? Against the Kyrgyzs?
If so, who shall protect us? The same Kyrgyzs? (Slavianskie vesti,
Bishkek, 1992, no. 2) A growing number of Europeans feel alienated in
Kyrgyzstani society and move out at a pace of 5% a year.
Also from Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan significant
outmigration of Europeans is taking place, indicating that the
endeavours to create supraethnic national identities in these states are
in dire straits. In none of these states has the titular ethnic group been
singled out for special treatment in the constitution or in other legal acts
such as has been done in Latvia, Moldova and Kyrgyzstan. However, in
spite of the political correctness of official rhetoric the titular ethnos is
everywhere becoming 'the state-bearing nation' . It increasingly
monopolizes political life and fills up most of the prestigious jobs in
culture and society. To some degree this tendency reflects the raising
educational and modernizational levels of the indigenous Central Asians,
but even more it reveals the reemergence of atavistic political patterns
of premodern societies. When the clans and tribes have divided among
themselves the prestigious jobs and positions, there are few left for the
Europeans. As one exasperated Russian in Kyrgyzstan exclaimed: 'Every
new boss starts by vacating with all possible means the lucrative jobs
[under his authority] to make room for his fellow clansmen. Without the
support of his kin he is a nobody, and he will be 'eaten up' by somebody
else. Who are suffering under this system? Of course, the "aliens", that
is: we, the Russians, since we have nobody high up to defend us. (V.
Uleev in Res Publica, Bishkek, 15 May 1993).
In Estonia and Latvia the indigenous ruling elites have tried to engineer
the political marginalization of the Slavs by legal means. This strategy
may in time become less effective as ever-larger groups of non-citizens
are being naturalized and make use of their political rights. For instance,
in the 1995 elections the Russian faction in the Estonian parliament
Riigikogu increased to six deputies, up from zero in 1992. By contrast, in
several Central Asian states, despite some overt high-level attempts to
create supraethnic states, the exclusion of Europeans from political
power seems to be increasing.
***
The breakup of Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, and the Soviet Union after
the fall of Communism have provided students of nation-building with
an abundance of comparative cases. Not since the decolonization of
Africa has the world experienced a similar proliferation of new states in
one and the same area. The post-Soviet states have all the necessary
requirements for fruitful comparison: A large number of similarities but
also striking differences. This essay should be regarded as a first
exploration into an academically rewarding and politically highly
important terrain.
1 The exception is Russia, which will be left out of this survey. Nation-
building in
Russia certainly deserves, and receives, serious attention, but reasons of
space
and also some principal reasons have dictated its exclusion from this
article.
Russia is not only a Soviet successor state but also the remnants of the
former
centre. The preconditions for nation-building are therefore radically
different.
For a useful introduction to Russian nation-building see Valerii Tishkov,
'Nationalities and conflicting ethnicity in post-Communist Russia, United
Nations
Research Institute for Social Development, DP 50, March 1994.
2 Andreas Kappeler, Russland als Vielvšlkerreich, Munich 1993, H.
Beck.
3 Victor Zaslavsky, ÔNationalism and Democratic Transition in Post-
communist
SocietiesÕ, D¾dalus, CXXI no. 2 (Spring 1992), pp. 97-121.
4 It goes without saying that within the framework of a short article
only some
principal tendencies may be outlined while many nuances are left out.
For more
details, see my Paul Kolstoe Russians in the Former Soviet Republics,
London/Bloomington, 1995, Chr.Hurst/Indiana University press; PŒl
Kolst¿,
'National Minorities in the Non-Russian Soviet Successor States of the
Former
Soviet Union', RAND corporation, DRU-565-FF; Karen Dawisha og Bruce
Parrott,
Russia and the New States of Eurasia, Cambridge, 1994: Cambridge
University
press; and Roland Dannreuther, Creating New States in Central Asia,
Adelphi
Papers 288, Brassey, London 1994.
5 PŒl Kolst¿ & Andrei Edemsky with Natalya Kalashnikova, 'The Dniester
Conflict:
Between Irrendentism and Separatism', Europe-Asia Studies, I, no. 6
(1993) pp. 973-
1000.
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