Most ethnic Russians are descended from peasants and serfs and don’t view themselves as brutal colonisers or chauvinist imperialists. But Russia was an empire from the time of Ivan III and is still going through a post-imperial readjustment. Much like Britain or France, Russia has yet to come to terms with the collapse of its empire, in part because all three still have empires.

When nations go through trying times and turbulence, discussions of national disintegration are commonplace, particularly global powers, past and present.

Some scholars like Alexander Etkind, Sergey Medvedev and Peter Eltsov have all argued in the past decade that the Russian Empire is still collapsing. Others have referred to it as a ‘postponed collapse’. With Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, murmurs of certain regions going their separate ways are now in the mainstream commentary.

The reasoning is not only due to the socio-economic damage the harshest sanctions ever introduced will do to the Russian Federation. It’s also a question of whether the Russian state in its current form can survive post-Putin with a handpicked successor. Its image is now badly damaged at a time when popular protests aren’t exactly uncommon or unheard of.

Calling for secession or the break-up of the Russian Federation is a criminal offence punishable by prison. Few are actually calling for it and realistically speaking, it’s very unlikely to happen anytime soon. But the invasion of Ukraine does offer lessons for the Kremlin inside its borders and shows us what could happen to Russia in the next few decades.  

Colonised colonisers

Some of the great Russian thinkers have called Russia ‘a nation that colonised itself’. After the regathering of Russian lands under its first tsar, Russia’s European state, isolated under Mongol rule, created an Asian empire whilst forming a buffer zone in the west. Russia’s borders were expanded through war and conquest in Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, across the Middle East, Central Asia and into the Far East. Russification sought to bring the diverse population inhabiting this space in line through conversion to Russian Orthodoxy, promoting the language and by forcing loyalty to the tsar.

Besides the Orthodox Church, the military filled the gap between the centralised state and very diverse population. Many cities were founded not just as outposts for the empire to manage day-today administration and exercise control locally, but for the state to retreat eastwards in the event of an onslaught in the ‘western corridor’.

Some nations incorporated into the Russian Empire gained independence after the October Revolution 1917, namely Finland and Poland. Others, like Ukraine and Georgia, enjoyed a rocky and brief independence until the end of Russia’s Civil War. Moldova and the Baltic States were then illegally reincorporated into the USSR during the Second World War as it gained new territories East and West.

In 1991, the republics compromising the USSR all went their separate ways, keeping their present borders. Those borders were, in large part, due to Stalin’s ‘divide and conquer’ tactics. It caused the displacement and forced deportation of millions. Many ethnic Russians were also sent to work in certain professions and generally run those areas.

Many of these nations have large minority groups. Some regions have attempted secession, like Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia, Nagorno-Karabakh in Azerbaijan, Chechnya in Russia and Transnistria in Moldova. All have involved violence.

The Russian Federation, the largest of the Soviet republics that also emerged as the USSR’s successor state, consists of well over 100 different ethnic groups with about as many languages, although Russians are by far the largest.

The Russian language reflects its makeup utilising three different variants of the ‘Russian’ demonym. Russkiy refers to ethnic Russians, whereas Rossiyanin is a passport holder – a non-ethnic Russian citizen of the Russian Federation. The word Rossisskiy falls somewhere in between. Rossisskiy is something of Russia or belonging to the nation, like the state – its official Russian name is Rossisskaya Federatsiya. It’s both inclusive and exclusive.

The leftover empire

The Russian Federation has six types of regional governments with differing levels of status and power. All reflect its immense diversity and geographical challenges. These are:

- Oblasts (counties/regions). Most were historically part of ‘greater Russia’, though not all, and are purely administrative;

- Republics, where another ethnic group make up the majority and which have more independent histories;

- Krais, literally frontier territories that were at the edges of the Russian Empire;

- Autonomous Okrugs (areas), created in the USSR and that (theoretically) gave autonomy to the indigenous peoples of the far north;

- Federal Cities, Moscow, St. Petersburg and Sevastopol;

- One autonomous oblast – the Jewish Autonomous Region in Russia’s Far East.

The nine krais and four okrugs are generally lesser populated and continue to experience depopulation. Krais have a similar legal status to oblasts but the difference is purely traditional, like the ‘Commonwealth’ of Virginia and ‘State’ of Wisconsin. Okrugs have more autonomy than oblasts and krais, their own anthems and larger non-Russian populations, but they still function as administrative divisions.

The 22 republics have their own governments, constitutions, anthems and courts which sit alongside their languages, culture, symbols, legends and music. In Southern Russia are Chechens, Dagestanis, Ingush and Ossetians to name just a few. Straddling Central Asia are the Chuvash, Tatar and Bashkir peoples, the latter two with histories of statehood. Further north are the Finno-Ugric peoples of the Komi Republic and Karelia. Throughout Siberia and beyond are Altai, Yakutia (or Sakha), Khakassia, Buryatia (Russia’s Buddhist republic) and Tuva.

Many have a history of resistance to Moscow; hence these are where much of any disintegration would occur. Although nationalist and pro-independence movements barely register or make headlines, there have been some anti-Moscow and nationalistic rumblings in recent years.

A Kazan-based blogger Ayzamov was jailed for criticising a statue of Ivan IV (or the Terrible). For the Kremlin, the latter is a figure of Russian statehood who helped liberate Russia during the eight-day siege of Kazan, commemorated by the colourful domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral on Red Square. For Tatar nationalists, like the People’s Liberation, Ivan IV is a symbol of Russian aggression and colonial rule, as is the figure of Ataman Yermak – a Cossack military leader who led Russia’s Siberian conquests.

Connected to this is the state’s underlying fear of Islamic radicalisation inside Russia’s borders. The Muslim majority republics, especially in the Caucasus, are kept tightly under the thumb or watchful eye of the state. This is in part due to the brutal Chechen Wars and terrorist attacks carried out in Dagestan, St. Petersburg and Volgograd, but many Russian Muslims also left to join ISIS – mostly young men from the Caucasus.

The Ingush people also suffered immensely under Stalin, meaning glorifying his legacy to promote national unity hasn’t gone over entirely well.

Khabarovskiy Krai in the Far East also has a high population of ethnic Ukrainians and two years ago saw widespread protests after the arrest of popular governor Sergey Furgal. Anti-Moscow sentiment is not exactly uncommon nowadays.

The Komi Republic, which has a long and interesting history, has the descendants of many forcibly deported Estonians, Latvians, Lithuanians and Ukrainians living among its own people. They took on rebellious anti-Moscow sentiments and passed them on to the next generation.

To be clear, none look like breaking away anytime soon and there are practically no calls for this. But every okrug, republic or krai shows a polarised population with very different lived experiences. Ruling over large territories and diverse populations has never been easy and Russia is not an exception to the rule.

History lessons

Since becoming president, Vladimir Putin has been keen to promote a cohesive national identity based upon a ‘shared history’ – one based on cherry-picked achievements from the Russian Empire and USSR, where all the regions can rally behind the state and its aims.

The invasion of Ukraine fits Russia’s civilisationalist policies of recent years. The Kremlin wants Russia to remain attractive in its former colonies not just to maintain a buffer zone, but to strengthen the state modernisation process. The erosion of the state and decline of its power and influence is feared because it could mean the potential loss of Russia’s territory.

There are three historical precedents for this: The Time of Troubles, the revolutions of 1917 and collapse of the USSR. Putin is keen to avoid repeating these scenarios. In fact, for Putin each period offers the same lesson: when the state loosens its grip on society, chaos and destruction will follow. Russia lost territory in each case and some within the Russian government blame democracy as much as anything else.

But the real lessons of Ukraine are clear: attraction can’t be forced or assumed; chaos often is. Should certain regions go their separate ways one day, some will westernise and liberalise. Some will fall under Chinese influence. Some may see more ethnic conflicts and human rights abuses. The extent to which these regions would want to stay close to Russia is uncertain, however.

Tens of thousands have left Russia since February 24 because democratic countries with stronger economies not at war with their neighbours look more attractive than those without democracy looking inwards. Russia might become increasingly more isolated as the war drags on and atrocities continue. When Putin goes, democracy will be difficult to re-establish, since most Russians have no experience of living in democratic systems. Holding the nation together will be difficult, however.  

James C Pearce is a British historian based in Russia.