Alain Blum[1] and Elena Filippova[2]
Ever since Russian ethnologists traveled in the Altai region at the end of the nineteenth century, there has been an ongoing debate on the nature of and differences between the various populations of the mountainous Altai, particularly the Turkic-speaking populations. Russian and Soviet ethnographic literature, which interests us here, often developed antagonistic views. They express positions that were marked by the ethnographic conceptions and traditions that evolved during the course of almost a century and a half, thus reflecting diverse political attitudes. The case of the Altai populations, which we will examine in our study by tracing this debate, ethnographic descriptions, and the arguments underlying these descriptions, provides us with a particularly useful tool for understanding how Russian and Soviet ethnography constructed a set of ethnic groups on the basis of observations furnished by the travelers and expeditions of the second half of the nineteenth century and, later, of the Soviet conception of nations.
The population of the mountainous Altai
has traditionally been viewed as the product of the fusion of Turkic nomadic
tribes. The study of linguistic differences and economic and cultural
particularities soon led ethnologists to distinguish between two major
Turkic-speaking Altai groups, generally referred to as Altaians (Altaitsy): those of the north, and those
of the south. The
The
Tiolios (Toiolos, Tolos) deserve special mention. They too were considered to
be among the peoples of southern Altai. Some argue that the “
This debate provides a good example of
the significant ambiguity surrounding ethnic and clan groups in ethnographic
conceptions, and also underlines the importance of territorialization to the
formation of these conceptions. The discussion of these peoples very often
revolves a history of the Altai region. Thus, the
The
Almost
all scholars agree that, up until the 1917 revolution, the Altaians were not a
unified ethnic group, did not view themselves as such, and did not use a
distinct ethnonym to designate themselves. V. Radlov, who visited Altai in the
second half of the nineteenth century, stated, “the only traces of a national
consciousness are visible among the Teleuts and the Mountainous Altai Kalmyks.
Among the latter, in particular, we can observe practices, a way of life, and a
single language, which allows us to consider them a distinct people and to
group them under a single name.” Radlov identified two groups as “Mountainous
Altai Kalmyks”, the Altai Kizhi (Altaians) and the Chui Kizhi (“those subjected
twice”), and what is mostly interesting in the context of the discussion about
the distinction between Altaians and Telengits, he proves, that the “real name
of the people, is the Telengits or Telengets, but it is preserved only in the
consciousness of those subjected twice.” (Radlov, 1989).
N. Ekeev proposes a different approach
to dividing the Altai population, an approach based on what he calls
ethno-territorial groups. According to Ekeev, at the beginning of the twentieth
century, there were six groups: the Altai/Oirat-Ulus (Altai Telengits, Oirats),
the Chui-Ulus (Chui Telengets), the Baiat-Ulus (Baiat Telengets, Teleuts), the
Jysh/Tuba-Ulus (Tubalar, Ary-Telengets), the Kumandy-Ulus (Kumandins), and the
Shalkand-Ulus (Chelkans). Thus, he attached not only the Altaians, Telengits,
and Teleuts to the Telenget ethnonym, but also the Tubalar, and applied the
Oirat ethnonym only to the Altai-Kizhi and not to all of the
Each group, both in the past and in our
times, is designated by different ethnonyms, not only because the ethnonyms
differ in Turkish and Russian, but also because of different types of
identification, based on self-designation or toponyms, and thus on a very local
territorialization. For example, the Telengits also called themselves
“Chui-Kizhi” (those of Chui), “Bashkaus-Kizhi” (those of Bashkaus), and
“Chulyshman-Kizhi” (those of Chulyshman).[4] The
Russians also called them “the twice subjected” because they paid tribute to
both the Russians and the Chinese. Radlov notes that the Telengits as well as
the Altaians (Altai-Kizhi) sometimes called themselves Qalmaqs or Oirats
(Radlov, 1989). Such multiples appellations also exist for other groups: Some
Kumandins call themselves Tadar-Kizhi; some Chelkans, Lebedinsky Tatars, or
Kuu-Kizhi (those of the
In addition
to separating, it was also necessary to formulate a logical framework for
constructing a unity of the entire Altaians population in order to anchor the groups in a coherent and historical
understanding of their evolution. Ehtnologists thus tried to provide evidence
of resemblance between the Northern and
Despite this, soviet ethnographic
literature upholds the idea that the period following the 1917 revolution saw
the “consolidation” of the Altaians, a process that was characterized by the
disappearance of almost all differences between the groups as well as of clan
divisions (Potapov, 1969). This notion of consolidation became part of the
general theoretical approach dominating the literature, especially after the
Second World War, affixing ethnographic dynamics to a framework based on
evolution and modernization. Certain scholars, however, while adhering to the
conceptions of Soviet ethnography, were led by fieldwork conducted in the late
1980s to oppose this framework. Using material gathered among the Teleuts,
these scholars maintained that lineage, as a social institution, “played an
important role in Teleut society in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It
is one of the structural elements of the social at different levels: 1. the
district; 2. the territorial community; 3. the ethnic group (ethnos) itself”
(Bat’ianova, 2002). The situation was complicated further by numerous changes
in the administrative and political status of the territories inhabited by the
various Altai populations over the years, beginning with Russian colonization.
This
region never constituted a single administrative unit. The territories of the
Russian Empire that were home to the groups officially labeled “the indigenous
populations of Altai” were part of the districts (okrug) of Altai, Biisk, and
Kuznetsk. For fiscal reasons, the Altai district was divided into numerous
administrative units with different status: seven diuchins (each made up of
different lineage groups or tribes) led by Zaisans, as well as the first and
second volost’ of Chui. The districts of Kuznetsk and Biisk were composed of
twenty-nine volosti “of indigenous nomads” and seven volosti “of sedentary
indigenous populations” (Verbitski, 1893). In 1912, the “Zaisanat”, the
governing institution of the lineage-based society of Altai, which the Russians
had used to exercise their power, was abolished, and the various lineage groups
and tribes were registered in different volosti.
In
1922, the Soviet state created the Autonomous Region of Oirotia (Oirotskaia avtonomnaia oblast’) within
the Altai krai area. It was renamed “Autonomous Region of Mountainous Altai”
(Gorno-Altai) in 1948. In 1991 the
Parallel
to the creation, disappearance, and name change of territorial administrative
units, the list of peoples recognized in the population censuses also underwent
modification. Some peoples appeared, and others vanished. The case of the
Teleuts is a good example. They were not included in the list of nationalities
for the 1939 Soviet census, thus losing the status of autonomous people.
Beginning at that time, all those who had previously considered themselves
Teleuts were required to be registered as Tatar, Altaians, Shors, or Russian in
their passports. During the census, they identified themselves or were
identified as Altai, or Tatar. Only for
a short time under Khrushchev could these people register as Teleut in their
passports. This ethnonym thus disappeared almost completely during the 1960s
and 1970s. In Russian, the Teleuts preferred to call themselves Tatars, but, in
their own language, they continued to use Telenget or Paiat. During perestroika
and a strong campaign in support of “national rebirth”, the Teleuts were not
only awarded the status of a people and the right to use their name, but were
also included on the list of small indigenous peoples of the north (Funk,
1999 ; Bat’ianova, 2002).
These administrative and political
transformations, as well as the debates among ethnologists or between
ethnologists and officials are clearly and simply reflected in the use of
categories during the various censuses, from 1897 to the present. A quick
overview of the classifications employed provides a detailed picture of these
transformations, reciprocal influences, and the ambiguities of the
statisticians’ choice. In particular, it shows the degree to which ethnographic
representation continued to evolve during the entire course of the twentieth
century. Even if the statisticians were pressured to produce a limited
administrative list there were still part of and influenced by an ethnographic
culture that was constructed between the late nineteenth and mid-twentieth
centuries.
In 1897, the census was based on a
measured classification of peoples, a racial classification that distinguished:
the «
The dominant ethnological
representation was therefore employed, but this classification was inadequate
for determining in a straightforward manner how to record the various peoples
during the census. In fact, most of the well-known ambiguities of the division
of the Empire’s population into peoples appear to have been associated with the
populations of the Altai regions, as was often emphasized by Patkanov, who was
most responsible for the way in which the 1897 census handled these peoples.
Patkanov basically admitted that he relied not only on the respondent’s answer
to the language question, but also on territorial factors, as well as estate
(soslovie) status to list and count the peoples of Altai:
It
should be noted that, in order to divide the population of the region (gubernia)
of
formulated
for the census, according to which the nationality (natstional’nost’) of
individuals
is defined on the basis of mother tongue. Had we simply followed these
rules,
a large segment of the indigenous population (korennoe naselenie) of the
northern
part of the region (ostiako-samoedy,
tatars), heavily Russified
and
no longer familiar with the mother tongue, would have been considered Russian,
and
we would have not known the real number of tribes represented. To avoid this
problem,
we followed more suitable rules for defining the nationalities in
[ . . . ]. The data on estates (soslovie) make it possible to identify the indigenous
(korennye)
populations from others that came to these regions, the latter belonging
to the peasant and merchant estates, and some others.
These data, used in conjunction
with
information on an individual’s belonging to this or that district (volost’) or administrative unit (uprava), his place of birth and
registration, etc . . ., provide,
allow
us, in most cases, to resolve, more or less accurately, the question of the
nationality
of a given group of the population.[6]
What is being
expressed here is the search for an “original nationality”, an essentialist
representation that seeks to distinguish the “real” Russians from the
“Russified” populations, and to discover “real” national identities. There is
also a clearly territorialized conception whose trace will be visible
throughout the twentieth century, dictionaries on nationality providing, most
of the time, information on basically where a given people is to be found.
The presentation of these populations
of the Altai regions by Patkanov, while following the dictionary of peoples,
reveals all of its ambiguities. The populations are described as being part of
a group of Turkic indigenous tribes divided into two sub-groups, the
“indigenous and pure-blooded Turks” (chistokrovnye
korennye tiurki) of the mountainous
Altai country and the “indigenous (tuzemtsy)
oturechnie” of other tribes, particularly the Samoyeds and the Yeniseians, who
live partly in these regions, but mainly in districts further north. In the
first group, Patkanov identified the “Altaians, also called Mountain Kalmyks or
White Kalmyks, in recalling their past subjection to the
A second
group, further to the north, of “indigenous Turko-Tatars” is comprised of
Samoyed and
The 1897 study of the clans provides a
profoundly different vision, one that fits well with a transversal scheme.
Conducted as a census, [7] it underlined the
importance of the clan (called rod or seok) in the representations of these
populations. Quoting the ethnologist
The basic elements of the designations
reintroduced in present times existed in 1897, including the very strong
presence of territory as a marker of identity. The understanding of the concept
of people had hardly any other meaning than a territorial one according to this
approach. The list put together for the 1926 Soviet census and the list
constructed for the same census by the commission or the study of the tribal
composition of the population Soviet Union adhered to the scheme formulated at
the end of the nineteenth century, even if these two lists attest to the
development of ethnographic study since that time and to a somewhat altered
measured classification. The three great races no longer structure this
classification, which now consists of ten large groups, including the
Indo-Europeans and the Turks. The populations of Altai are part of the
sub-group of the Turks of the northwest, including groups territorialized once
again, as well as the Turks of the southwest and partly of the northeast (in
the case of the Shors). Divisions along clan lines, which predominate among
certain of these peoples, are sometimes underlined. The table below indicates
those peoples that are identified and that correspond partly to the Altai
territory:
Description of the Contemporary Peoples of
Mountainous Altai, at the Time of the 1926 Census (list published by the
commission for the study . . . )
Turks
of the Northwest
|
Language
|
Religion
|
Comment, stated in the
commission’s dictionary
|
|
Kumandins* |
Kumandin and Russian |
Shamanism |
|
|
Altai or altai-kizhi (or kalmyks of the mountains,
or white kalmyks) |
Altaic and Russian |
Shamanism, Orthodox, and Burhanist |
Known under the name Oïrot, which was acquired
after the revolution |
|
Telengets |
Telenget and Russian |
Shamanism, Orthodox, and Burhanist |
Have preserved divisions based on kolena and clan
(rod) |
|
Teleuts |
|
|
Close to the telengets, and perhaps once the same
people, although different in language |
Turks of the Southwest
|
|
|
|
|
Chernevye Tatars (Turks), Tubalar, tuba-kizhi,
jysh-kizhi («inhabitants of the forests») |
Chernevoi (Turkic) and Russian |
Shamanism (officially Orthodox) |
Border Russians in the north, and the Altai in the south ; sometimes this name is used for the Shors or the Tatars of
Tomsk and Kuznets |
|
Tatars of Kuznetsk (Turks) |
|
Orthodox, with some traces of shamanism |
Language close to that of the Shors and, partly, of
the teleuts |
Turks of the Northeast
|
|
|
|
|
Shors, shore-kizhi |
Shore |
Shamanism |
Are divided into 22 clans; sometimes attached to the chernevye Tatars and the Tatars of |
|
Lebedins, kuu-kizhi, Cholkanungs* |
|
|
|
|
In the 1926 census, the Lebedins were counted as
Kumandins; though according to Patkanov, in the1897 census Lebedins declared
themselves as speaking Shors language |
|||
In 1937, all of these peoples, divided into
sub-groups, were regrouped under the name Oirats (the Shors are separate). To
describe this regrouping, the statisticians referred again to the previous
classification:
Dictionary of
Nationalities, 1937
|
Oirats |
Oirats,
ku-kizhi, lebedintsy, maïmakizhi, maïmalary, oiratkizhi,
chelkankizhi, chelkannug, shalgantsy |
|
Altaitsy,
altaïkizhi, altaiskie kalmyki, belye kalmyki, gornye kalmyki, chernye
kalmyki |
|
|
Kumandintsy,
kumandy-kizhi, iasashnye telengety, telenginy |
|
|
Teleuty,
ashkishtymtsy, tolosy |
|
|
Shorts |
Chernevye
tatary, tubakizhi, tubalary, kuznetskie tatary, shorkizhi |
More groups are named than in 1926, but the
presentation of the dictionary of nationalities shows the extent to which statisticians
and ethnographers had difficulty letting go of a measured and specific
classification to accept the now predominant relationship of «administrative
territory-people». Surprisingly this time (only once during the history of
soviet censuses) Tubular were attached to the Shors. In 1939, the division was
analogous, but all of the designations within the Oirot group, as well as the
Shors were no longer presented as sub-groups:
Oirats |
Oirot-kizhi, oirat-kizhi, oiraty, altaitsy,
altaiskie kalmyki, telengety, teleuty, lebedintsy, chelkantsy, maimintsy,
kumandintsy, kumanty |
Shors |
Shor, shor-kizhi, kuznetskie tatary. |
The construction corresponded increasingly to this now
dominant administrative description. It works as a basis to demonstrate the
national “consolidation” around the “titular” nationality. For example, the
presentation of the 1939 census results, written after the war, offered a clear
expression of the dominant of the “consolidation” process:
“Oirots – name
taken from the group of Turkic-speaking tribes and living on the territory of
mountainous Altai, being on the path of consolidation in the frame of the
autonomy created in 1922. They are divided in two different groups, having
different languages. Those of the South, the largest group, […]. Those of the
North, […]. In 1948 they took a unique name –Altaians.[9]”
The censuses held between the end of the war and 1989
reproduced the structure employed in 1937, a structure based on traditional
ethnographic classification, while regrouping number of peoples under one name
that approximated the administrative designation. For example, the Altai
(altaitsy : Oirotia would now cede to the
|
Altaians (altaitsy) |
Altai-kizhi,
oiroty |
|
Kumandintsy,
maimintsy, telesy |
|
|
Telengity,
teleuty |
|
|
Tuba,
chalkantsy, lebedintsy, kuu-kizhi |
The persistence throughout these years
of an ethnographic approach developed at the end of the nineteenth century
demonstrated that, despite the imposition of an administrative formulation,
documents internal to statistics, constructed with the assistance of the
Institute of Ethnography, helped keep “alive” the type of representation that
is now resurfacing. The imposition of a particular type of administrative
identification was limited in its success not simply because local elites
retained the memory of the various forms of consciousness described above, but
because of the reluctance of statisticians and ethnographers to apply a scheme
that is contrary to the tradition underlying their way of thinking.
The status of small people comes under
the purview of the law “On the Guarantees of the Rights of Small Indigenous
Peoples”. [10] According to
Article 1 of this law, small indigenous peoples are defined as:
“peoples
(narody) living on the territory
traditionally inhabited by their ancestors
(predki), having preserved a traditional
way of life, economy, and homemade
production
(promysly), and being composed,
within the
than
fifty thousand people, consider themselves as an autonomous ethnic unit or group (osoznaishchie sebia samostoiatel’nymi
etnicheskimi obshchnostiami)
[emphasis
ours].[11]
In the
The
senselessness of exclusion based on territory, which theoretically withheld
rights from analogous populations living on equivalent territories, became
evident in the mid-1990s, during the preparation of the draft law “The Foundation
of the Legal Status of the Indigenous Peoples of the Russian North”, which was
never completed. Basically, the proposed law called for a list of forty-nine
peoples, which was to include peoples living, in fact, “in southern Russia—in
the latitude of Cheliabinsk and Riazan, Orenburg and Voronezh” [12], in
particular, the Teleuts and the Shors. Although the law that was finally
adopted defined its object as “the small indigenous peoples”, it did allow for
the possibility of being extended to include not only the peoples of southern
Over time, the appeal of the National
Assembly and the government of the
First
of all, economic problems will thus be resolved . . . In addition, the prepared
legislation, the decree of the Federation of Russia on the development of the
culture, language, and tradition of the small peoples is already in force. The
issue now facing
us
is to develop a program addressing these questions. If our program is
confirmed,
it
will be financed by the federal budget.[15]
The decree did raise serious concerns,
however, among the population, especially in intellectual circles and among
individuals involved with social organizations created in the name of the
“titular nationality”, the Altaians. These were debated in the media, leading
some to speak of a “public fear”:
By designating the Kumandins, Chelkans,
Tubalar, and Telengits small peoples, the central ethnic group of Altai-Kizhi
also becomes a small people[16] and,
since no small people has a republic, one might thus raise the question of the
establishment of an autonomous district in the territory of mountainous
Altaï. [17]
The status of
autonomous district (avtonomnyi okrug)
carries much less autonomy than that of republic. A similar fear was expressed
by V. Kydyev, the president of the association “Ene-Til” (“Mother Tongue”), in
the Altaic language paper Altaidyn
Cholmony, in August 2000. Responding to loud criticisms aimed at the
federal government, whose policy was supposedly directed at dividing “the
undivided Altai people”, the government head of the
.
. . the meaning of “undivided people of Altaï” is simply a fiction. I am
bold enough to say that such a unity has never existed. Mountainous Altai has
always been home to different ethnic groups (ethnos), the Kumandins, Tubalar,
Chelkans, Telengits, Altai-Kizhi. Under the
The census occasioned a revision of
positions on this question among republican elites and generated heated
discussion. On one side of the issue, the supporters of Altai unity argued that
unity was essential to the stability of the republic and feared that a division
into small peoples would lead to the regionalization (gubernizatsiia) of the republic. In their view, this process, which
they believed had already begun, would result in a loss of autonomy, with the
republic reduced to a status analogous to other non-autonomous regions of the
Federation. This position was supported mostly by the republic’s urban
population and the Altai intellectual elites. It was heavily discussed in the
Altaic-language press, but was hardly dealt with in the Russian-language press.
Sensitive to “danger”, in June 2001, the National Assembly of the Altai
Republic communicated with M. Kas’ianov, the head of the government of the
Russian Federation, requesting a change to the text of the decree (no. 225)
issued by Russia on 24 March 2000. It asked that the Kumandins, Tubalar,
Telengits, and Chelkans, be called “Altai-Kumandins”, “Altai-Tubalar”,
“Altai-Telengits”, and “Altai-Chelkans” on the list of small indigenous
peoples. The request stated: “Such a designation corresponds with both our
historical past and the present. It is the unity of the people of Altai (the
Altaic ethnos), possessing a unique Altai literary language, but with various
dialects used in conversation.” [19]
The
National Assembly did not want to exclude these groups from the list of the
small indigenous peoples, but simply to qualify their names in such a way as to
show that they were all part of a “unified Altai people”, whose size did not
entitle them to financial benefits. Concluding this communication, D. Tabaev,
the president of the Assembly, urged a prompt response to the republic’s
request “because of conduct of the 2002 population census”. A letter was also
sent at this time to V. Tishkov, the director of the
On
The
2002 census is a serious blow to the unity of the people of Altai achieved
during
the
twentieth century. Only two peoples of
preparation
of the census: the Tatars and the Altaians. But, while the government of
Tatarstan
devoted particular attention to this issue so as to correct this destructive
action,
none of the important leaders of the
nor
of government, spoke up about the action, in order not to damage themselves.
There is still time until the census that must be used to correct the
situation.[20]
The identification
of the Telengits was the most disturbing point since it is the most important
of the designated groups. Their number could reach up to 17 000, while the
number of Tubalar would not exceed 2 500 and the Chelkans 1500. As for the Kumandins and
Teleuts, most live outside the
The republic’s statistics department
was also furiously criticized, all the more because, in a press release published
in the same daily, it stated the importance of self-declaration, that is, of
letting the individual declare what he wishes to declare as his nationality,
and issued a list of ethnic groups identified among the Altaians: “The Altaians
are divided between those of the north (Tuba, Chelkans, Kumandins, Shors) and
those of the south (Telengits, Tiolos, Teleuts, and Altai-kizhi).” [23] The
department was accused of being incompetent, particularly as a result of the
fact that “people of other nationalities, who do not know our language, our
history, our religion, meddle in our internal affairs, instruct us, and
ridicule us.”[24] “I am writing now,
having waited for the historians and experts to give their opinion on the
publication of “Who am I?” [title of the press release issued by the statistics
department]. It seems clear that the statistics department are conducting their
own scientific research and making discoveries. Thus, where did a nation called
“Tiolos” come from? Examining everything that has taken place, one must
conclude that all this is directed towards dividing the people of Altai. A
government department can not make such mistake before the census.”[25] The department of statistics had not, of
course, conducted any specific research, but based its list on Russian
ethnographic literature.[26]
In an interview, a former deputy of the
Altai National Assembly, now a journalist and one of the most active
contributors to Altaidyn Cholmony opposed
to the division of the Altaians into small peoples, outlined the basic
arguments of this opposition, which have appeared repeatedly in the
aforementioned daily:
In
1992-93, certain individuals thought they could make some money by claiming
the
status of small people. This initiative originated as much with the Telengits
themselves
as with the
move
actually came “from below”, from the districts, and that he did not view it as
external
manipulation]. Having been included on the list of small peoples, the
Telengits
thus obtained financial assistance (mainly illusory), as well as other
benefits:
exemption from military service, decrease in the retirement age, etc . . .
Kydyev then provided arguments affirming the unity of
the people of Altai, referring to « scientific works by local experts that
have shown that all of these groups, distinguished by the census, have a common
origin ». Finally, he expressed his fear that the republic would disappear
if the population were to be divided. Article titles accurately convey a sense
of the atmosphere created by such fears: « Sorrow Remains in Our
Hearts » (3 August 2002, 117), «Open Letter to Our Brothers and Sisters
Living in the Districts of Ulagan and Kosh-Agach » (29 September 2002),
« To Remain Altaians » (16 August 2002, 124), etc . . .
In this discussion, the idea of a national republic
and nationalities is clearly based on an administrative and political
understanding of the issues, much more than on the question of ethnicity. This
finding is confirmed by almost all of the other interviews that we conducted as
part of our study:
Why do people want to divide into small groups? To receive benefits.
Many are
prepared to declare themselves Kumandins, Telengits, etc . . . on the
census, and
not Altaians. It sometimes seems to me that this is about state
politics, and comes from
above. In order for the state to be stable, it must be unified. And we
have great
ethnic diversity. Moreover, the smaller a group, the more quickly it
assimilates.
Through division, we head towards unification [of the peoples of
therefore, assimilation to Russian]. If a person knows his culture, his
religion well,
he is much more difficult to assimilate. It’s another matter when the
traditional
culture and mentality have been lost or eroded. Such a policy can only
lead to
the disappearance of our world-view and our culture (interview conducted
in the
district of Ongudai).
What is a Telengit? An Altaian, surely. They have the same language, the
same
traditions, the same attire. All these games with the small peoples
serve very
specific interests. The money the Telengits are entitled to by
law—they’ll never
see it (district of Ongudai).
I know that, in Ulagan, there is a campaign to get the inhabitants to
register as
Telengits, but I think that this attempt is politically flawed. Because
of this, we
might lose our autonomy (gosudarstvennost’). It’s useful for the center,
that is why
we can assume that the initiative came from above. And our local
governments have
done nothing, letting people declare what they want. Of course, each
person much
decide for himself, but only in matters of every-day life. But when the
entire country
will be affected, as in the case of the census, this is no longer
acceptable. One must
work with the people. They should have been given clarifications,
explanations, telling
them why they should register as Altaians, but no one did this (district
of Kosh-Agach).
The opposing arguments can be termed
regionalist and are vigorously defended in distant villages that are not easily
accessible. Here, the people call themselves Telengits, which they consider to
be a distinct ethnic group, separate from the Altaians. This position is
supported because of the benefits that come with the status of small people:
material advantages which, according to most people, will never materialize;
the possibility of opposing land purchases and sales in the areas where large
numbers of Telengits live; preferential admission to institutions of higher
learning, especially in connection with scholarships granted by some of these
establishments in St. Petersburg, Moscow, and other cities; finally, the
possibility of forming a regional elite, which would rectify the current
exclusion of the inhabitants of the Ulagan district from the republican
government. Supporters also want to remain isolated, fearing tourism, in
particular, which would bring “strangers” (postoronnye)
into the region.
On the eve of the census, in August
2002, [27] a survey was
conducted in the district of Ulagan asking one question: “During the upcoming
census, how will you respond to the question on nationality?” There were three
possible answers: “Altaian”, “Telengit”, and “Altaian-Telengit”. The survey was
put together and carried out by the Zaisan of the Telengits, V. Poposhev (the
Zaisan, the traditional head of the community, reappeared just recently[28]). In an interview,
he told us that this survey was in no way a propaganda effort “as those of
Gorno-Altaisk [the capital of the
Tracing the history of the Telengits’
acquisition of the status of small indigenous people, and underlining the
justifications for obtaining this status, Poposhev explained that the
initiative was first taken at the beginning of the 1990s. However, V. Chaptynov,
then the leader of the Autonomous Region of Mountainous Altai, did not think
the moment was right for such a move. Basically what was important was to
separate the Mountainous Altai from the Altai krai, and, at the same time, to
obtain the status of republic. Once this was resolved, it was time to move on
the initiative, which is what prompted the decision of the government of the
Based on our own observations and the interviews
we conducted in the village of Ulagan and in neighboring village, it would seem
that, in general, the population identifies itself unhesitatingly as Telengit
(“Of course we are Telengit”; “We are all Telengit by soul”, etc . . .),
although some use the dual “Altaian-Telengit”. The nature of the debate that
preceded the census is known to most and understood, and the only issue that
was discussed revolves around whether the existence of the republic is at
stake. It is around this issue that arguments were formed:
The
census-taker already came to see us. We are four in the family [husband, wife,
and
their two children, the youngest aged six months] and we are registered as
Telengits.
Who
else would we be? Altaians is an artificial name thought up by the Russians. In
the
past,
we were also called Oirats, indigenous . . . All of the discussions about the
possible
liquidation of the republic are simply stupid. In fact, if the center wants
to
do it, it will, and the census would have nothing to do with it.
How will I register? For me, it is clear. I have always known that I am a Telengit and
that’s how I will register. My husband and my son are not Telengits, nationality for us
having always been based on that of the father. My father was a Telengit, so I was
raised as a Telengit. The status of small indigenous people is good. Thus, for example,
our children won’t have to serve in “hot spots”. Of course, it won’t be respected,
they’ll be sent anyway.
Of course I will register as an Altaian, even though I am a Telengit. If the Altaians are not numerous, maybe we’ll lose our republic. This was in the papers.
An interesting observation is that, in
urging the Telengits to register as Altaians, the newspapers stressed the fact
that nothing would actually change: “I am not asking you to forget that you are
Telengits. This identity will remain at the core of each person. But, the world
knows us as Altaians and it is best that this remain so”[29]; . . . even when we
were registered as Altaians in our passports, we continued to consider
ourselves as Telengits. And if we register as Altaians in the census, this will
not change anything”.[30] Only a few officials of the local
administration tried to deny the problem, maintaining that the population they
administered belonged to the Altai group. One official even said that the 2002
census would be the last time the “nationality question” was debated, and that,
similar to the disappearance of nationality from the Russian passport, the
question would be absent in future censuses, simply not mentioned. Only certain
ethnographers and statisticians would continue to be interested in the issue,
using old sources.
It is difficult to assess, on the basis
of our observations, the impact had on the census by the influence of the
pre-census campaign on the one hand, and the strength of traditional feelings
or representations that could not be expressed during the Soviet period on the
other. In the Soviet era, it was impossible for a Telengit to identify himself
as anything but an Altaian in official documents, which were the basis for
passport nationality.
A final ethnonym: Oirat. It also
appeared in the debate leading up to the census, even if it is only peripheral.
During the existence of the Autonomous Region of Oirotia, the indigenous
populations of Altai were designated by this name. The name was preserved in
popular memory, all the more because it was not so much associated with this
brief period in Soviet history, but with the ancient Oirot state, from which
the Turkic-speaking inhabitants of the
However, we only encountered one
Telengit who expressed a desire to declare himself an Oirat, a resident of
Kosh-Agach, where there was no campaign similar to that in Ulagan in support of
Telengits registering as Telengits:
Me,
I don’t like this term Altaians. You see, previously, they called us Oirats,
that’s
better.
Here, in Kosh-Agach, every house has all sorts of weapons, knives and other
such.
We are all hunters. Our youngsters of six to eight years, they kill a marmot
with
a single cartridge, easily. That’s why they gladly send us to
good
snipers. I will register as an Oirat, I’m sure. They’ll have to register me
that
way,
just like I’ll tell them. In fact, leading up to the census, our people should
have
been
urged to all register as Oirats, but now it is of course too late.
Needless to say, it
is impossible to generalize on the basis of such comments, which are more show
than a reflection of the kind of reasoning that would have been expressed
following some local campaign.
Nationality, People, or Clan (Seok)?
Our field
research on the designation “Telengit” indicates that the discussions
surrounding the unity or division of territory are connected to regionalist
versus centralist positions, more so than to conceptions that could be
described as ethnic nationalism. It is true that some supporters of Altai unity
occasionally employ arguments of an ethnographic nature, such as language or
culture (“ . . . The real Altaians live in Ulagan and Kosh-Agach. The ancestors
of those living now in central Altai came from Ulagan, from
In our view, central to the debate we
have been following is the existence of another form of identity whose
affirmation has become very relevant, but is not taken into account by the
census. We are referring to the category of “seok” (an Altaic-language term
whose literal meaning is “bone” in contrast to “flesh”), which is made up
exogamous patrilineal groups identified by most ethnographic studies as clans.
These patrilineal clans are well-known among the populations of the region, and
the opposition between “bone” (kost) and “flesh” (matrilineal forms) is
widespread among Turkic populations that have been studied. [34] These
clans are not exclusive to one people or one territory, but exist among a
cross-section of these peoples and on several territories. Thus, according to
some, the Altai-Kizhi include thirty-one clans, or thirty-six according to
others, while the Telengits of Chui are comprised of fifteen. Eleven of these
clans are common to both groups, making up 48 percent of the Altai-Kizhi and 92
percent of the Telengits. Similarly, we find common clans among the Altai-Kizhi
and the Bachat Teleuts. [35] In addition, “a
single, identical clan can be found on the banks of the
Our field observations suggest that
clan membership is the clearest and most important form of identification.
Creation myths revolve primarily around clans, and not ethnic groups. Each clan
has its own history, as well as its ancestry, often of a totemic nature. For
example, the chapty clan is supposed
to be descended from a woman of the todosh
clan and an unknown man, while the ancestor of the mundus clan was the son of a kypchak
girl who “swallowed three small hailstones and gave birth”. Following this
event, the young girl married and gave birth to a son, who was named tiolos (Potapov, 1969). Clan ancestors
sometimes take animal form, birds or fish. Thus, according to one legend, the kypchaks descend from a snake
(literally, “they came from the inside of the yellow snake” [36]), while
another legend claims they came from cedar kernel, brought by crane to its
nest. [37] Popular etymology
traces the names of the irkit, murkut and
merkit clans to the word murkut
(royal eagle). The legends say that their most ancestor was a royal eagle,
transformed into a man by God’s will.[38] In some
cases, a clan is supposed to have descended from a deity. [39]
According to most experts, the name of the maïman/naïman
clan comes from the Mongol “naïman”, meaning “eight”. This is the Mongol
form of the name of the Turkic tribe segiz-oguz,
harkening back to the first half of the twelfth century and clan founder E.
Liui Dashi’s departure to the Semirech’e, following the destruction of the Liao
Empire by the Chzhurchzhen. According a popular tradition, a man named Solton
had five sons. One of these, Boor, is the ancestor of one of the two parts of
the maiman clan, the kara maïman. [40]
Such
legends provide the foundation for the representation of blood relations
linking various clans. This type of relationship is termed “karyndash”, literally “from the same
uterus”, which alludes to the other, matrilineal, dimension of descent,
i. e. the “flesh”. Marriage prohibitions are based on patrilineal descent[41]. According to
N. Ekeev, in the twentieth century, karyndash
relations connected two-thirds of the population designated as “
Another traditional function of the
clan is often spoken of nostalgically, namely customary justice. El Bashci
explained that, for individuals who have committed some illegal act or whose
behavior is unacceptable to society, the judgement of the elders (the zaisans) holds strong moral weight and
is far more important and effective than the judgement and penalty issued by a
court. Such statements are, however, more reflective of a vague nostalgia than
of anything else, since they are not matched by a demand for the inclusion of
this practice in contemporary Altai society. On the other hand, the people we
interviewed refused to consider the clan as a source of political influence.
Exogamy, which produces numerous marriage links between clans are viewed as
factor that work against political action and, in particular, the rivalries
that would pit the clans against each other in a political context. According
to one person we interviewed, “Clans are very closely connected. For example, I
have five daughters married to men from five different clans. Thus, we can not
have a situation, as in
A desire to use the census to register
the clans of the Altai populations was expressed at a meeting of the
Gorno-Altaisk Community Council (Gorodskoi
Kurultai Altaïtsev) in January 1999, which affirmed that “data on the
number of clans are essential for the organization of a system of
self-government, as was done in preceding centuries (sixteenth and seventeenth)
when the populations of Altai were part of the Dzhungars.”[42] Attempts to promote
the unification of Altai society on the basis of the blood tie relationships
were made in the 1980s and 1990s. Celebrations were established associated with
various clans, beginning with one such event in 1989 bringing together the
members of the maïman (naïman) clan. The ethnographer V.
Kydyeva, a participant and witness of the maïman
celebration, acknowledged that the organizers did not have a precise idea of
goal and particulars of such an event, which was part of the national and
cultural revival then taking place.[43] The idea
originated with members of the older generations. What was clearly needed was
to breathe new life into the role of the clan system by bringing together
members of the same clan from different regions of the
From the
start of this initiative, the question arose over the choice of a
representative, the zaisan:
This question had not
been raised previously. But, when one of the initiators of the celebration
proposed that the zaisan is chosen
and called for a vote, the
candidate he proposed was unanimously elected. Moreover, nobody understood the
role of the zaisan. The
term
“zaisan” itself was uncommon, understood more as “oppressor” than “protector”
or
“defender”. The unfamiliarity of the term began to fade following this first
discussion
and election. Jarring at first, it was soon commonly employed. The election
of
a zaisan among the maïman paved the way for similar
elections among the mundus, kypchak, tulos, and saal. And
recently, there has been talk of coordinating the activities
of
all the zaisans. [44]
There was thus an
attempt to create a social, pseudo-traditional institution, voluntarily formed,
and, through it, establish a network of influential figures. The institution,
however, was not an actual success. The zaisans
clearly lacked real influence, either political or social.
These
discussions surrounding the birth or rebirth of a form of identity led to the
demonstration of institutional recognition by the census. In January 2002, the
Institute of the Humanities of the Republic of Altai, the Kurultai of the
People of Altai, the Assembly of the Peoples of the Republic of Altai, the
Council of Zaisans of Altai, and the
social organization “Ene til” (“Mother Tongue”) addressed the government of the
Republic of Altai, requesting that a clan (seok)
census be held jointly with the population census. This request was justified
exclusively by the need to “study the Altai ethnos (Altaïskii etnos) from different angles: population genetics,
history, ethnography folklore, linguistics, etc . . .” Two documents were
attached to the collective letter: “The list of the clans (rody-seoki) of the Altai”, composed of eighty names, and a “Memo
for the census-takers”, providing instructions on how to define clan
membership. Thus, in the case of an individual born out of wedlock, the memo
specified that:
The census-taker must first determine whether the respondent knows his clan.
[.
. . ] If not, he must then [. . . ] ask a question on the nationality of his
biological
father.
If the respondent’s father is Altaian, he must ask what the father’s clan is.
It
is
possible that the respondent considers himself part of his mother’s clan. If
this is
the
case, it must be noted under “Comments”. If the respondent’s father is of
another nationality, the census-taker must determine whether the nationality is
one of the
Turkic
or Mongol ethnic groups, which also have their own clans. If this is the case,
the
father’s clan must be recorded, and his nationality noted under “Comments”. If
the
respondent’s father is of a completely different nationality, he may, or his
mother
may
wish to attach him to the maternal clan. In this case, the father’s nationality
must
be
noted under “Comments”.
It was not possible
to implement this proposal since the federal law on the census prohibits the
conduct of any supplementary survey during the census. El Baschi suggested that
such an operation would nevertheless be carried out by the rural
administrations.
Before becoming president of the
Kurul’tai of the Altai, El Baschi was himself Zaisan of the Kypchaks, one of the most important clans. He
believes that clan membership is much more significant than any national
belonging, a significance that is strongly symbolic. According to him, the
kypchaks could number 150 million worldwide, since they are to be found not
only in Altai, but also in
The importance of the clan, which was
emphasized everywhere, whether in Ulagan, Ongudai, or Gorno-Altaisk, throws
some light on the debate surrounding the national question. It points to a
regionalist or local dimension much more than to arguments of an ethnographic
nature. There are, therefore, two dimensions in identities. First, there is the
local reality, revolving around peoples attached to territories, to specific
villages. This territorialization opposes the local and regional elites,
creating a distinction between those connected to Altai who move about, and
those who are anchored in a particular locality and claim their
distinctiveness. On the other hand, the clan de-territorializes identity
entirely, clan-based identity stretching across borders, to areas beyond
Russia, vaguely defined, and harkening back to a unity of Turk and Mongol
peoples going back to the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. This
de-territorialization, however, is not connected to demands for unification on
a political plane. It is never used to justify separation from
The census, which attaches each person
to a territory, thus generated a debate on administrative and local identities.
In a somewhat paradoxical way, the ethnographic conception that had justified
the creation of these small peoples, a creation based on the work and expertise
of the
The
complexity of the identities expressed by the populations of Altai, called
largely Altaians in Russian and Soviet ethnographic literature, and subdivided
into groups, demonstrates a diversity of identities which [1] can not be
classified hierarchically and [2] are not mutually exclusive.
1. Clan (seok) identity is supposed to be de-territorialized, based on the
recognition of blood ties between individuals, connecting to a common mythic
origin, a common ancestor, a legend of common creation. The seoks are numerous—kypchak, naïman, irkit, todosh, etc . . .
2. Local identities are connected to a
very specific territory and borders that are often well defined, valleys,
mountain ranges, natural geographic zones, etc . . . They are identified
through toponyms, names of localities or valleys, or geographic zones:
Altai-Kizhi, Chui-Kizhi, Chulyshman-Kizhi, Maimalar, Jysh-Kizhi (literally,
“those of the mountainous Taiga”), etc . . .
Some of these names are viewed today as identifying ethnic groups.
3. Ethno-cultural identification, based
on the representation of common cultural characteristics and tending towards
self-representation thorough well-defined peoples or ethnic groups
(Altai-Kizhi, Telengits, Tubalars, Chelkans, Kumandins).
4.
Historical identity, i. e. an elaborated, constructed “memory” of ancient
tribes and their history, for example tele
tribe, whose name was supposedly preserved in the ethnonyms telengit, telenget,
teleut, tiolos.
5.
Political, administrative, and territorial identity, shaped by various
administrative divisions and annexations, which were transformed during the
course of the twentieth century, leading to identification with the Oirats,
followed by the Altaians. «The consciousness of belonging or having belonged to
a lasting political entity”[45] is
fundamental to forms of nationalism and to claiming specific identities. Thus,
the historical state of the Oirats underlies the political justification of the
definition of the Altai, who are viewed as equivalent, by N. Ekeev, to the
Oirats.
6. Linguistic identity defined by common
membership in the Turkic-speaking world, which involves seeking a privileged
relationship with and reference to other Turkic-speaking peoples outside the
region. Currently, it does not appear that such an orientation is important in
Altai, and we found hardly any reference to pan-turkism of any kind, even if
one does sometimes encounter an appeal to people to identify as Turkic during
the census. [46]
Nevertheless,
these diverse forms of identity expression, competing or complementary, are not
all equivalent. The first two, and partly the third, were formed internally by
the population, in the course of local debates or through transmission. The
others are more external, theorized or formulated by states of which these
territories were a part (the Dzhungar Khanate (Oïrotia), the Russian
Empire, the
The
existence of a Turkic form of identity is also connected to the fact that the
Russians often called these populations Tatars, as Radlov does, speaking of
“the Tatars of the Northern Altai” and “the Altai Tatars”. This explains why
the Teleuts, Shors, and Kumandins sometimes called themselves Tatar-Kizhiler
and their language Tatar (tadar tili) (Funk, 1999).
These forms of identity changed over
time, some appearing in certain periods, strengthening and then waning or
disappearing. There is no doubt that, during the nineteenth century,
territorial links were formed partly at the expense of clan and tribal ties.
The voluntary process of “ethnic consolidation” of the Soviet period bound all
the groups of the region together around a single “titular nationality”. The
process of national rebirth of the turn of the 1980s brought about the
re—emergence of clan-based identity, perceived by local intellectual elites as
a symbol of a reborn autonomy. Groups previously viewed as sub-ethnic groups by
Soviet ethnography also demanded the status of ethnic group in an attempt to
free themselves from the designations which, under the term “Altaians”,
included the entire Turkic-speaking population of the region. This demand was
strongly opposed, however, by central republican elites, who feared that their
autonomy would be threatened.
The role
of the state in all of these processes, through the categorization of its
subjects, is very important. The passport (in particular, the Soviet passport
with its famous “nationality” entry) and the census are fundamental forms of
state categorization. The Bolshevik national idea was violently opposed to
social forms based on origins and lineage, and to national dispersal once
administrative territorialization was established. The Tubalar, Teleuts, or
Kumandins were no more than sub-groups of the Oirats, then the Altaians, except
during the 1926 census, which recorded the Altai, Telengits, Oirats, Kumandins,
and Teleuts. In 1926, there were only 3.5 percent Oirats (1 477 individuals)
even though the territory was already called Oïrotia. However, in 1939, they
numbered 39 285, grouped around the “titular nationality”.
Our findings are only partial and
temporary. A more detailed study is necessary before we can draw any firm
conclusions. Nevertheless, we can make some tentative conclusions, along the
lines of hypotheses.
In
particular, it seems that the ethnic identities of the indigenous population of
Mountainous Altai do not constitute the strongest type of diversity. This
corresponds to a set of characteristics or particularities that appear to be
well-established:
1. A desire to represent a unique
origin and blood ties, which leads to favoring clan and transversal
representation over ethnic representation, the latter based more on an approach
developed by Russian and Soviet ethnologists within the framework of a certain
“national” conception of ethnography.
2. Ethnic identity is subject to shift
during the course of a person’s life, and based a multiplicity of scientific
representations.
3. The resurgence of ethnicity in the
public debate is based in Altai on a return to clan representation, which
seemed to be a better expression of the traditional local representation, less
touched by the “importation” of an external ethnographic representation.
4. “Ethnographic” arguments did not
dominate the debate that preceded the census, but rather political arguments.
5. Since the census was conducted, the
press stopped presenting the terms of the ethnographic debate.
All that being said, it is more
delicate to perceive the consequences of the renewed importance or visibility
of clan representation. On the on hand, we can assume that the process of the
rebirth of the clans and of cultural practices associated with this form of
representation might lead to a rapprochement between ethnic and clan
representation. Let us recall that, in the current census, the kypchaks, naimans, and teles
(unlike the other clans, almost seventy) were included on the list of
nationalities. On the other hand, as E. Bat’ianove noted, on the basis of a
study of the Teleuts, the interest in clans draws together peoples who consider
themselves different, Altai and Teleuts in this case.[47] Thus, in 1995, the idea developed within the
Association of the People of the Teluts, “Ene Baiat”, of having the Teleuts of
the
There remains the issue of the nature
of an identity that is based on the designation “small indigenous people”. The
persistence of the
Finally, we can say that both the
disappearance of passport nationality in the
Bat’ianova, E. P.
“Rod i obshchina u teleutov v XIX-XX vv.” Avtoref. diss. kand. ist. nauk.
Ekeeev, N. V.
"Altaïskaia etnogoniia.” Drevnosti Altaïa. Izvestiia
arkheologii. ¹8. Mezhvuzovskii sbornik nauchnykh trudov. 2002.
Ekeev N. V.
“Etnodemograficheskaia kharakteristika naseleniia Altaïa XIX – nachala XX
vv..” Aktual’nye voprosy istorii i
kul’tury Saiano-Altaïa. Gorno-Altajsk, 1998. Vyp. 2.
Funk, D. A.
“Formirovanie novyk etnicheskikh identichnostei u tiurkov Iuga Zapadnoi Sibiri
v 1980-e – pervoi polovine 1990-kh gg. (na primere bachatskikh teleutov).” Etnograficheskoe obozrenie (1999): ¹ 5.
Funk, D. A. Transformatsiia etnicheskikh identifikatsii
tiurkov (aborigenov) Iuga Zapadnoi Sibiri; Identichnost’ i konflikt v
postsovetskikh gosudarstvakh.
Funk D. A., E. P.
Bat’ianova E.P. “Teleuty.” Narody Rossii.
Enciklopediia. Edited by V. A.Tishkov.
Kalachev, A.
“Poezdka k telengitam na Altaï.” Zhivaja starina 3-4, god shestoi (1896).
Potanin G. N. Ocherki severo-zapadnoj Mongolii.
Potapov, L. P.,
F. A. Satlaev, “Altaïtsy.” Narody i
religii mira. Enciklopediia. Edited by V. A.Tishkov.
Potapov L. P.
“Altaiskie telesy v
etnicheskom otnoshenii.” Problemy proiskhozhdeniia
tiurkskikh narodov Sibiri.
Potapov, L. P. Etnicheskii sostav i proiskhozhdenie
Altaïtsev. Istoriko-etnograficheskii
ocherk. Leningrad, 1969.
Radlov, V. V. Etnograficheskii obzor turetskikh plemen
Sibiri i Mongolii.
Radlov, V. V. Iz Sibiri. Moscow, 1989.
Samaev, G. P. Gornyi Altaï v XVII – seredine XIX vv. Problemy politicheskoi itorii i prisoedineniia k
Rossii. Gorno-Altaïsk, 1991.
Satlaev, F. A.
“Altaïtsy.” Narody Rossii.
Enciklopediia. Edited by V.A.Tishkov.
Tiuhteneva, S. P.
O nekotorykh paralleliakh v kalendarnykh
obriadakh teleutov i Altaïtsev (po polevym etnograficheskim
materialam)//Problemy etnicheskoj istorii i kul’tury tjurko-mongol’skikh
narodov Iuzhnoi Sibiri i sopredel’nykh territorii. Vyp. 2,
Verbitskii, V.I. Altaïskie inorodtsy. Sbornik
etnograficheskikh statei i issledovanii.
[1] Institut National d’Etudes Démographiques,
133 Bd Davout, 75980
[2] Institute
of Ethnology and Anthropology of Russian Academy of Sciences, 32-a Leninsky
prospekt,
[3] N. Ekeev, Altaïskaia etnogoniia...
[4] Some scholars believe that the last two
ethnonyms are connected not to the Telengits, but to the Tiolos. Potapov, 1969.
[5] Posobiia pri razrabotke pervoi vseobshchei
perepisi naseleniia ; Gruppirovka narodnostei Rossiiskoi Imperii po
iazyku.
[6] S. Patkanov, introduction to volume 79 of
the 1897 population census of the Empire, Tomskaia guberniia.
[7] S. P. Shvetsov, Gornyi Altaï i ego naselenie (
[8] E. Lutsenko, « Poezdka k
altaïskim telengitam, » Zemlevedenie
(1898), 1-2.
[9] Vseoiuznaia perepis
naselenia 1939 goda. Osnovnye itogi,
[10] The federal law of
[11] This definition practically repeats word
for word that used by the 1966
[12] D. Funk, “Obsuzhdenie proekta zakona
Rossiiskoi Federatsii. Osnovy pravovogo statusa korennykh narodov Severa,”
Etnograficheskoe obozrenie (1995).
[13] Decree of the Council of Nationalities of
the
[14] Letter from the First Vice President of the
[15] Zvezda
Altaïa,
[16] In 1989, there were 69.4 thousand Altaians,
59.1 thousand in the autonomous region of mountainous Altai. If we remove the
five groups that have since been recognized as separate nationalities, it is clear that the number of
Altaians who will register as such during the census will be under fifty
thousand.
[17] N. Tadina, S. Iabyshtaev, “Respublica ili
avtonomnyi okrug?”, Biulleten’ Seti
etnologicheskogo monitoringa i rannego preduprezhdeniia konflktov 32
(2000).
[18] Zvezda
Altaïa,
[19] This document is part of the data base of
the
[20] Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[21] Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[22] Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[23] Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[24] Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[25] Altaïdyn
Cholmony,
[26] The Tiolos are identified in L. Potapov,
“Etnicheskii sostav i priskhozhdenie altaïtsev,” published in 1969.
[27] The census took place in August 2002 in
most of the villages of this remote district.
[28] See
below for more on this institution.
[29] “Open letter to my brothers and sisters . .
.”
[30] Altaïdyn
Cholmony,
[31] Altaïdyn
Cholmony,
[32] “Open letter to my brothers and sisters . .
.”
[33] Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[34] Boris-Mathieu Petric, Pouvoir, don et réseaux en Ouzbékistan
post-soviétique, (Le Monde/PUF:
[35] Ekeev, 2002;
Potapov, 1969.
[36] G. N.
Potanin, Ocherki Severo-Zapadnoj Mongolii
(St. Petersburg, 1883).
[37] T.
Akulova, Altaïdyn Cholmony,
[38] N.
Dyrenkova, “Klassifikationnaia sistema rodstva i brachnye normy u
Altaïtsev i Teleoute,” Materialy po
svad’be I semeino-rodovomy stroiu narodov SSSR (
[39] E. P.
Bat’ianova, “Rod i obshchina u Teleouteov v XIX-XX vekakh,” Avtoreferat dissertatsii na soiskanie uchenoi stepeni kandidata
istoricheskikh nauk (
[40] L. K.
Viktorova, “K voprosu o naïmanskoi teorii priskhozhdeniia mongol’skogo
literaturnogo iazyka i pis’mennosti (XI-XIII vv.),” Uchenye zapiski LGU, Seriia
vostokovedcheskikh nauk 12 (1961), 137-155; A. G. Maliavkin, Materialy po istorii uigurov v IX-XII vekakh
(
[41] According to Ekeev, the “karyndash” relationship also imposes marriage prohibitions.
[42] N.
Tadina, S. Iabyshtaev, “Gorodskoi Kurultai Altaïtsev,” Biulleten’
Seti etnologicheskogo monitoringa I rannego preduprezhdeniia konfliktov 23
(1999).
[43] V. Kydyev “O prazdnike
Altaïskikh seokov,” Problemy
etnicheskoi istorii i kult’tury tiurkomongol’skikh
[44] Kydyev,
[45] E. J.
Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since
1870 (Cambridge University Press,
1991), 73.
[46] Altïdyn
Cholmony,
[47] Bat’ianova, 2002, 32.
[48] Funk, 1999, p. 122-123.