Russian identity is relocated
BarcelonaVladimir Putin maintains the desire to conquer or control territories that belonged to the Soviet Union, but reality tells him that, three decades after the collapse of the empire, The Russian Baltic community loses rights, while the Russian language is in decline, especially in Central Asia. The wind has finally blown in favor of languages labeled as regional—considered second-class—that are now taught in schools and are happily studied by people in their forties and fifties: the generation that didn't have access and now enjoys literature, media, and social networks in their own language.
The case of Kazakhstan stands out because interest in one's own language is accompanied by a significant demographic shift: the ethnically Russian portion of the population has fallen from 38% to 15%, while in the rest of the Central Asian republics it doesn't exceed 5%. This means that in Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan, Russian is considered an important language, yes, but only for interethnic communication.
The data indicating that many ethnic Russians are gradually leaving for their countries of origin—the war against Ukraine would have been a decisive impetus—doesn't exactly fit with Moscow's wishes. One of Putin's main criticisms of the Western world remains its intention to dismember the former USSR from the moment it collapsed. This resulted in some 25 million Russians being left behind, living in countries that would treat them as second-class citizens.
This is the situation they are still in. Russian communities arrived in Estonia and Latvia Beginning in 1945, at the end of World War II, Stalin sent them with the aim of Russifying and Sovietizing the Baltic republics, which, upon regaining independence in 1991, would label them "non-citizens." A true "apartheid" regime. Russians were guaranteed school, healthcare, and pensions, but not the right to vote. Nor were they guaranteed access to land ownership, legal professions, or administrative positions. To obtain full citizenship, it is necessary to undergo a "nationalization" process based on tests and exams.
Now, the war has intensified the obstacles. By law of the Estonian Parliament—passed just a month ago—non-European citizens—as Russians are considered—cannot vote in local elections, as is the case in most EU states. And in Latvia, the threat of expulsion looms over Russians—24% of the population—who refuse to learn Latvian or who fail to demonstrate a minimum level of proficiency.
It is clear that when Vladimir Putin reproaches the West for the situation of millions of Russians living far from Russia, he thinks the solution is to recover or satellite-ize the territories where these Russian communities lived: it would mean reconquering the territories where Russian is still spoken. The Kremlin maintains this idea, although the facts point to other realities: the intimidating one, coming from the Baltic, and the, let's say, dissuasive one, posed by Central Asia. And Putin himself confirmed this during the joint press conference with the president of Kazakhstan in the fall of 2023: Kassim-Jomart Tokhayev addressed his neighbors and former owners in the official language, Kazakh. And Putin and his companions unexpectedly had to rush to put on their headphones and use simultaneous translation. Russian was no longer unquestionable.