Feedback Russia marked another Day of National Unity in a situation that journalist Olesya Gerasimenko described as a “civil war in a cold phase”: society is divided, opponents of the war have either been repressed or forced into exile, and those who remain in the country are being hunted by supporters of the war.
The hunt is also open in the field of so-called “traditional values” — understood in practice as the triumph of patriarchy, obscurantism, and state violence against those who do not agree with such an interpretation. Let me recall that in Vladimir Putin’s decree “On approval of the Fundamentals of State Policy for the Preservation and Strengthening of Traditional Russian Spiritual and Moral Values ” (November 2022), seventeen such values are listed. For the most part, they are indisputable, and the words themselves are attractive: dignity, human rights and freedoms, high moral ideals, creative labour, mercy, justice, collectivism, mutual assistance and mutual respect — who would argue with that?
Yet once the value of a “strong family” is proclaimed, goodbye to legislation against domestic violence, to women’s reproductive rights, and, more broadly, to women’s rights and the rights of LGBTQ+ people. Or take the value of “life” — taken away from hundreds of thousands of people since the start of the full-scale war against Ukraine, under the banner of the values of “patriotism, civic duty, service to the Motherland, and responsibility for its destiny.” The value of “historical memory and continuity of generations” — in practice, the rewriting of history and militaristic propaganda in schools.
The “unity of the peoples of Russia” is also included in the list of “values”, yet it is far from clear what this actually means: equality? Inter-ethnic harmony and the absence of conflict? Russia’s national policy oscillates between the construction of a “common civic identity”, which increasingly tends towards Russification (the declaration of the Russian language as the language of the “state-forming people”, the reduction of teaching in non-Russian languages in schools, the attribution of a special role to Orthodoxy among other “traditional” religions), and the need to take into account the country’s multi-ethnic population. For this reason, the second component of strategic documents in the field of inter-ethnic relations has until now remained the “preservation and support of the ethno-cultural and linguistic diversity of the Russian Federation.”
However, even within this second component, a tendency towards Russification has become increasingly apparent. The latest version of the State Strategy on National Policy of the Russian Federation (for the period up to 2036) prescribes that no less than 80% of ethno-cultural events should be devoted to the promotion of Russian culture.
This year, on 4 November, the Day of National Unity, a monument to Ivan the Terrible was solemnly unveiled in Vologda. The media quoted Governor Filimonov as saying:
“A multiplier of Russian lands. The Kazan Khanate, the Astrakhan Khanate. This is Orthodox missionary work. A symbol of the Russian world — a dynamic, at times harsh, in a good sense aggressive movement forward. A powerful bogatyr, an autocrat, a conqueror.”
Monuments to this controversial tsar had previously been erected in Oryol and Cheboksary, despite protests by local residents, historians, the Council of Elders of the Chuvash National Congress, and representatives of the Tatar public. In 2019–2020, it was possible to fend off oligarch Konstantin Malofeev, who had been lobbying for the installation of a monument in Astrakhan. At the time, representatives of the Tatar Youth Forum wrote in their appeal:
“For the multi-million-strong Tatar people, Astrakhan is the most important centre of nation-building, the heart of its history and culture. At the same time, the figure of Ivan the Terrible has always been and will remain, for many peoples of our country, a sinister symbol of genocide, lawlessness, despotism, policies of confessional intolerance and violence.”
In 2025, it is precisely this figure that has become a symbol of “national unity”.
The formulation of specific “values” for the purposes of policy in the sphere of inter-ethnic relations is not confined to Russia. Elsewhere, the results are no better — the gap between fine words and reality is simply too wide. For example, in Azerbaijan, a special “Azerbaijani model of multiculturalism” is proclaimed as an everyday norm of citizens’ lives — peaceful and neighbourly coexistence of peoples and religious denominations. At the same time, a “national state ideology — Azerbaijani identity” (azerbaijanism) is officially proclaimed, formulated as a set of civic values intended to serve as the basis for consolidating the country’s multi-ethnic population (“citizenship,” “patriotism,” “loyalty,” “responsibility of citizens to society and the state”). These ideas have been published as part of the special project “Azerbaijani Multiculturalism” by the Presidential Library under the Administration of the President of the Republic of Azerbaijan (since 2016). Almost all of these ideas are fairly universal — acceptance of universal human values, patriotism as a strong attachment to one’s country, the importance of tolerance and civic engagement, and so on. What, then, is specifically Azerbaijani here? Perhaps this:
“The position of patriotism as borne by the ideology of Azerbaijani identity is a very important element in the process of state-building. From this perspective, the number one problem for Azerbaijan — and at the same time a common task and common goal of all our citizens, all Azerbaijanis worldwide, and one of the cornerstones of our national ideology — is the restoration of the country’s territorial integrity, a just resolution of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, and the end of the occupation to which our country has been subjected. It is no coincidence that today all Azerbaijanis, regardless of political views or place of residence, express solidarity on the issue of Nagorno-Karabakh.”
The words of Ilham Aliyev, placed as the headline on the multiculturalism website — “In Azerbaijan, the most civilised norms of national and religious coexistence exist; there is a tolerant environment, and state-religious relations are perceived as exemplary worldwide” — are far removed from reality. They are contradicted by the tragic mass exodus of the Armenian population from Nagorno-Karabakh, by cases of persecution of activists from ethnic minorities, by insufficient state support for minorities in education, and by their weak representation in state institutions.
Another example of constructing a “unified nation” can be observed in Kazakhstan.
Inter-ethnic tension in Kazakhstan was categorically denied during the rule of Nursultan Nazarbayev, who presented himself as the main guarantor of peaceful coexistence among the country’s various ethnic groups. In the information space, the existence of problems of ethnic discrimination was virtually not acknowledged; in statements by representatives of the authorities, civil society, opposition figures, and in academic writings, Kazakhstan was portrayed as an idyllic “country of united nations”, living in peace and friendship. Nazarbayev spoke of a special “Kazakhstani model of tolerance” and proposed extending it across the entire OSCE region.
At the beginning of February 2020, Kazakhstan was shaken by a large-scale inter-ethnic conflict — pogroms of Dungan villages in the south of the country, resulting in deaths and destruction. These tragic events triggered public reflection on inter-ethnic relations, a topic that had previously received little attention. It became clear that the skills of peaceful coexistence among different ethnic groups — an undeniable legacy of Kazakhstan’s ancient and modern history — require far more serious institutional support than the previous system had provided.
Although the activities of the Assembly of the Peoples of Kazakhstan were reformed after 2020, Kazakhstan’s policy in the sphere of inter-ethnic relations remains largely shaped by ideas and documents originating from the former president. These include Strategy-2050 (2012), which speaks of a New Kazakhstani Patriotism, and the “documentary form of the nationwide idea” — the Patriotic Act Mäñgilik El (literally, “Eternal Nation”), adopted at the 24th session of the Assembly of the Peoples of Kazakhstan in 2016. The latter document consists of a list of universal human values expressed through a brief set of symbolic phrases that, if one wishes, lend themselves to arbitrary and even contradictory interpretation. Unsurprisingly, Kazakh nationalists perceived the New Kazakhstani Patriotism as legitimising preferences for the “titular nation,” while representatives of ethnic minorities saw it as a threat of discrimination — despite the many correct words in these documents about equal opportunities, civic identity, and inter-ethnic harmony.
Another concept fraught with conflict in the sphere of inter-ethnic relations, also introduced into the public domain by Nazarbayev, is that of ethnic Kazakhs as a “state-forming nation” (speech at the 15th session of the Assembly of the Peoples of Kazakhstan, 2009). Although the head of state spoke of the responsibility of Kazakhs as the “core” and “support” of the peoples of Kazakhstan, it is easy to see here at least a division between “Kazakhs” and “everyone else,” and to interpret the notion of a “special historical mission of the Kazakhs” — applying some extrapolation — as legitimising ethnic superiority.
These examples have much in common: attempts to describe, in words, the unique qualities of a particular people and to make this phantom part of state policy. At times it is the “civilisational code of Russian society,” at others “Azerbaijani identity as a system of values reflecting primary national-moral traits,” or, as in Kazakhstan’s Doctrine of National Unity, the “Spirit of the Nation,” which “rests on millennia-old traditions, values and culture, on language as part of a people’s self-consciousness.”
I do not believe that the authors of these documents relied directly on the works of German thinkers and writers of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries — first and foremost Wilhelm von Humboldt — and their ideas about “national character” and the “spirit of the people.” Most likely, they invented these concepts themselves, as best they could. Yet the very idea of inserting an ephemeral “code,” “spirit,” or “essence of the people” into a strategic state document smacks of archaism and evokes grim associations. The notion of “national character” was compromised by Nazi ideology and has long since been dismantled from a scholarly perspective.
Indeed, the bearers of a given culture themselves rarely formulate, from within, the features of a “national spirit” or, more accurately, their own identity and worldview. Instead, these are expressed through verbal folklore and other forms of traditional art, as well as through customary practices — economic, social, spiritual, and others. From the outside, it is scholars — ethnographers, ethno-linguists, anthropologists — who do this work: proceeding from empirical material and analysing cultural facts, they identify and describe the features that make a particular culture distinctive.
Thus, for example, scholars study romanipé (“Romani-ness”) — a complex set of ideas and practices that has enabled the Romani people to survive through centuries despite prejudice, persecution, discrimination, lack of statehood, dialectal fragmentation, or even language loss; or nochkhallo (“Chechen-ness”) — a complex of elements of customary law, concepts of honour, family, and traditional etiquette; and other such “spirits” of other peoples, without ascribing to “national character” or identity any sacred role or sacral meaning, and understanding that identity, customs, and culture in the broad sense are not static phenomena engraved forever on stone tablets, but adaptive and shaped by historical and other circumstances.
When, however, the formulation of “our traditions and values” is carried out not by impartial scholars and not from the bottom up — from empirical material — but from the top down and imposed crudely, this so-called “spirit” becomes an instrument for suppressing rights and freedoms. For example, the Deputy Minister for Youth Affairs of the Chechen Republic and aide to Ramzan Kadyrov, Sugaipov, recently announced that Chechen women are obliged to wear a headscarf or at least a “strip” on their heads, and threatened “conversations” with girls and their parents should they fail to comply. He stated:
“We will now promote the idea of wearing headscarves and cultural clothing that corresponds to the spirit of Chechen traditions… From the point of view of aesthetics, religion, Chechen adats, traditions and customs, a woman with her head covered looks much more dignified and beautiful… From our very roots, from our ancestors, it is clearly prescribed how a man and a woman should behave… We are doing this not for show, but for our people… And we will not allow anyone, under any pretext, to cross the line beyond which our values are lost. This is inviolable.”
Here we have the full set: spirit, inviolability, and “clearly prescribed” — interestingly, where exactly? It is no coincidence that customs and traditions are often described as “unwritten law.”
An obsession with the uniqueness of a particular culture or language, followed by the attribution to a people of a special “national character”, is not limited to the authors of strategies and politicians. There exists an entire field — linguoculturology — whose adherents claim a direct dependence of the “spirit of a people” and “ethnic mentality” on the features of a particular language.
Of course, each language segments reality differently; different features of objects attract the attention of speakers. In Russian, the hole of a needle is called an “ear,” while in English it is an “eye.” Some languages of the Caucasus have dozens of grammatical cases, while many European languages have none at all. Chinese lacks the familiar grammatical category of tense; Bulgarian has four past tenses. What does this tell us? Only that these languages are structured in certain ways — nothing more.
Widespread impersonal constructions in Russian does not indicate a refusal by Russian speakers to assume personal responsibility. The existence of a productive word-formation model that turns “dairy products” into molóčka, “expired products” into prosróchka, or abandoned buildings into zabróshka does not make the suffix -k- diminutive, nor does it render the Russian language “infantilising” or allow one to conclude that Russian speakers approach serious matters in an infantile way. In Russian, the auxiliary verb “to be” is used, while in English “to have” is also employed — but does this make Russian speakers philosophers inclined towards the search for the meaning of existence and “Anglo-Saxons” acquisitive by nature? Of course not.
Nor does fixed word order, characteristic of many languages, testify to the clarity of thought, punctuality, or tidiness of their speakers, just as free word order does not make speakers of such languages careless.
Arbitrary interpretations of linguistic phenomena and the attribution to peoples of certain traits of “national character”, which both amateurs and “professionals” — followers of neo-Humboldtian linguistics — are prone to, are far from harmless. They idealise representations of one’s own people (such as the trope of the “mysterious Russian soul”), foster ethnocentrism, and create and reinforce prejudices and stereotypes about other peoples. From there, it is only one step to ideas of national superiority — ideas that are profoundly destructive to inter-ethnic harmony.
Let everyone do their own work: linguists, ethnologists, and anthropologists should study languages and cultures; “spirit” and “character,” if they exist at all, should be expressed by poets, artists, and filmmakers. For the peaceful coexistence of people in society, no “spirits” are needed — what is needed is respect for the rule of law and human rights, and guarantees of non-violence and non-discrimination.
Olga Abramenko, Expert, Anti-Discrimination Centre “Memorial”
Originally published on the blog of Radio Svoboda (in Russian)