Tatarstan Census Monitoring Report
Dmitry Gorenburg
November 13, 2002
Introduction and Methodology
This report will discuss the situation in Tatarstan immediately prior to and during the conduct of the 2002 census. It is based on fieldwork conducted in Kazan from October 6 to October 16, 2002. The political situation around the census in Tatarstan was quite tense prior to the census’ start. I arrived in Kazan four days before the start of the census and spent the first several days meeting with representatives of local political and cultural organizations that were interested in the conduct of the census. During this period, I also met with several government officials to discuss the political situation in the region and the conduct of the census.
The most significant problem I encountered in conducting my fieldwork was the complete lack of access to Goskomstat. I had been warned not to approach regional Goskomstat officials directly until the last stages of the census, because of the danger that they would instruct precinct level officials to not meet with researchers. As it turned out, avoiding top officials did not help matters. Precinct directors and instructors all refused to meet with me or my local colleague without approval from higher officials, which of course was not forthcoming. There was no possibility of getting approval to walk around with enumerators while they were working.
In the end, we were able to arrange a focus group of enumerators in Kazan through our university contacts. We also used these contacts to meet with other enumerators one on one and to arrange to visit friends at times when enumerators visited them. In addition, we interviewed a number of acquaintances in Kazan about their experience when they were being enumerated. Through these efforts, we were able to get a fairly good picture of the conduct of the census in Kazan.
Unfortunately, we were not able to meet with enumerators in rural areas, due to our lack of contacts there. We did visit one Kriashen village near Kazan, but even in that case I have doubts about the reliability of our discussions because of the presence of a Kriashen activist with a particular (and well-known) point of view on the question Kriashen identity. It seems likely that the local teachers that we met in this village would not have been willing to publicly counter his view to strangers. Thus, our analysis of census activity in rural areas is limited to what we observed in the local media.
Political Situation
The main source of political tension during the census in Tatarstan stemmed from the question of Tatar nationality. Tatar activists firmly believed that the Russian government, aided by the Institute of Ethnology and Anthropology (IEA) and its director, Valery Tishkov, personally, were out to divide the Tatar nation into several separate ethnic groups. Tatar activists believed that by dividing the Tatars into several groups, the Russian government hoped to ensure that Tatars would make up less than 50% of the population of Tatarstan. These activists argued that if the census showed that Tatars were not a majority in the republic, Moscow would eliminate the republic of Tatarstan. The distribution of the official Goskomstat alphabetical list of nationalities by local politicians in the early days of the census reinforced these fears. Local activists quickly determined that the list included 45 types of Tatars, each with its own numerical code, and used this evidence as further proof of the complicity of Goskomstat and the IEA in this plot.
To prevent the division of the nation, these activists organized a campaign to convince Kriashen (Russian Orthodox Tatars) and other members of Tatar subgroups to identify themselves to enumerators simply as Tatars. They attempted to use Tishkov’s negative article about the World Congress of Tatars, published in both national and local newspapers on the eve of the census, to mobilize Tatars to their cause. As one of the co-chairmen of the World Congress of Tatars told me, he was certain that this article would have a reverse effect, uniting all Tatars behind the goal of national unity.
Given the focus on the nationality question, it is perhaps not surprising that there was little concern about the removal of the question on native language from the census questionnaire. Those who spoke about this issue tied their concern to what they saw as the increasing oppression of Tatars in Bashkortostan, where historically a large number of people identified as Bashkirs by nationality with Tatar as a native language. Activists argued that the absence of a native language question would allow the Bashkortostan government to legitimize the introduction of Bashkir-language education in Tatar-speaking villages where the inhabitants (possibly under pressure) declared their nationality as Bashkir.
Quality of Census
Despite these political concerns, the greatest problems with the conduct of the census were the result not of political issues, but simply the poor training of the instructors and enumerators. Participants in a focus group of enumerators agreed that census instructors were completely unprepared. All six participants (from different census districts) agreed that the teaching did not extend beyond reading the instruction books. There was no role-playing or discussion of potentially complicated situations. Many of the instructors were themselves unaware of the proper way of dealing with situations such as disagreements among parents about the nationality of their children, or whether respondents should be allowed to list their relatives who are registered (propisany) as living with them but are currently at university in a different region or temporarily working abroad.
Enumerators were also not instructed in all cases about proper methodology in filling out questionnaires. In many cases, enumerators assumed responses to questions such as citizenship or whether the person had lived continuously in Tatarstan since birth, rather than asking directly.[1] In one case where the respondent noted that although he had been born in Kazan and lived there presently he had not actually lived there continuously since birth, the enumerator was upset that she had spoiled the form and followed up by asking where he lived in 1989. Upon being told that the respondent lived in Kazan at that time, she brightened and said, “Well, that’s alright then. We can leave it like it is.”
The vast majority of complaints registered at the Federal District’s census hotline likewise had to do with census procedures, rather than political issues. These complaints included census questionnaires being filled out with pencils and respondent details being recorded in notebooks rather than the official questionnaire forms. According to the complaints, enumerators argued that they needed to use pencils because they were afraid to spoil questionnaires, since they only had a limited number of them. Similarly, enumerators said they used notebooks for recording information because their precinct had temporarily run out of questionnaires, or else simply because they were too heavy to carry around.
Enumerators estimated that approximately 4-5 percent of apartments refused to participate in the census outright, while an equal number refused to allow enumerators into their homes but said that they would visit the precinct themselves later. When combined with the large number of illegal migrants trading at local markets, who largely avoided being enumerated, the overall non-response rate in Kazan is likely to have been around 7 percent.
Ethnic Identity
As noted above, the question of ethnic identity dominated public discussion of the census among Tatar intellectuals. Activists repeatedly noted the appearance of “45 kinds of Tatar” on Goskomstat’s official list of nationalities. A quick review of the list shows that there are in fact 45 kinds of Tatar listed... if one counts five kinds of Bashkirs also as Tatars. Based on the coding sequence, we can guess at the preliminary decisions made by Goskomstat about how these groups will be combined in published data. Tatars are given the numeric code “3,” as the second largest ethnic group (1 is reserved for total population and Russian is coded 2.). Bashkirs are of course coded separately, as 6. Three other groups are coded in a way that indicates that they might be listed separately in future publications. These are Siberian Tatars (112), Crimean Tatars (113), and Kriashen (159). All other subgroups of Tatars are given high numerical codes that indicate that they will almost certainly be combined with one of the groups listed above. There are four variations on Bashkir (including part of the Teptiar subgroup), two on Kriashen, 13 on Tatar, and 20 on Siberian Tatar. Groups such as Mishari and Astrakhan Tatars are listed in the part of the sequence that indicates it will be amalgamated with Tatar. Other variations include different spellings of the same group (Mizher), or the same name written in the local language (Kazanly, Sibir Tatarlar). Ethnic subgroups are also listed, especially for the Siberian Tatars. Finally, I should note that having a separate code in the Goskomstat list does not mean that a group will be listed separately in census publications. Even if a group is listed in the low-numbered part of the list (such as Siberian Tatar or Kriashen), it could still be combined with Tatar in publications, or listed as a subgroup. Because of the danger that political fallout from these decisions would negatively affect participation in the census, these decisions were deliberately postponed until after the census was completed. We should expect to see another round of heated discussion on this topic in the coming months.
The three groups that are likely to be listed separately nevertheless deserve some particular attention. Of these, the Crimean Tatars are uncontroversial, as they are widely recognized as a separate group. The other two provoked a great deal of controversy prior to the census. Siberian Tatars are less of an issue in Tatarstan because they live predominantly in other regions. Nevertheless, Tatar activists in Tatarstan argue that efforts by Siberian Tatar leaders to cast themselves as a separate ethnic group are caused by their belief that they could benefit materially from being declared an indigenous group in their areas of habitation, such as Tiumen and Tomsk oblasti. They also argue that if Siberian Tatars go ahead and declare themselves a separate ethnic group from the Tatar nation, then Tatarstan will no longer feel obligated to supply them with teachers and textbooks, or to fund their cultural activities.[2] Tatar activists believe that most Tatars living in these regions are opposed to this division. The situation is further complicated because of the number of Tatar migrants from the Volga region who now live intermixed with “indigenous” Tatars.
I attended a meeting at the World Congress of Tatars with a delegation of Tatar teachers from Tiumen. Given the forum at which they were speaking, it is perhaps not surprising that these teachers all expressed opposition to the division of the Tatar nation. I was later told that these teachers are all either migrants from Tatarstan or Tiumen Tatars who were educated in Kazan. In other words, they are by no means a representative sample of public opinion in Tiumen.
Since the majority of Kriashen live in Tatarstan, I had the opportunity to get a relatively good idea of the variety of understandings of their ethnic identity present within the group. There is no precise count of the number of Kriashen in Tatarstan. Estimates of their number vary from 100,000 to 200,000. Part of the group sees themselves simply as Tatars who belong to a different religion. A second group believes that they are an ethnic subgroup of the Tatar nation. A third group believes that they are an entirely separate ethnic group. A final segment of the population believes that they have become a separate group as the result of being treated as second-class Tatars by Muslim Tatars. As one Kriashen activist told me, “The Tatar nation had to choose from among two formulas – one nation, one religion, or one nation, two religions. Most Tatars have chosen the first path, and they keep reminding us of this.” Kriashen leaders have come to believe that they can only receive adequate funding for their cultural needs if they declare themselves a separate ethnic group.
During the course of the census, regional hotlines received a number of complaints from Kriashen who said they were either prevented from listing their nationality as Kriashen or had pressure exerted on them to list themselves as Tatar. In a number of cases, Kriashen were recorded as “Kreshchennye Tatary,” which is not in the official list of ethnonyms. Kriashen leaders suspected that this ethnonym would simply be coded as Tatar, reducing the total number of Kriashen recorded in the census. The complaints resulted in the dispatch of an official Goskomstat commission of inquiry to several rural districts of Tatarstan, where the majority of the Kriashen live. Although newspapers initially reported widespread violations of the census law in these districts, upon the commission’s return to Kazan, it was officially announced that there were few actual violations and most complaints were the result of family disagreements about how to declare their nationality. The rapid change of tone, combined with the local Goskomstat’s refusal to meet with me to discuss the conduct of the census, leads to suspicions that Goskomstat did not want to report anything that might undermine the perception that the census was being conducted in an honest and efficient manner. However, these are only suspicions on my part, as I have no proof that there were more than the 20-30 violations officially registered by the regional census hotline.
Mixed Marriages and Ethnic Identity
The question of choice of nationality also came up in ethnically mixed households with children. Our focus group discussions indicated that on average, children’s nationality was listed according to that of the father. In many cases when the mother was Tatar and the (Russian) father was not present during the enumerator’s visit, the children were recorded as Tatar. In some cases where the family had several children, they recorded some as Tatar and some as Russian (“to be fair to both sides of the family”). There were also numerous reports of children as young as five being asked by the parents how they wanted their nationality listed. Many of my acquaintances among the Tatar intelligentsia told stories of relatives in mixed marriages that had conducted “educational campaigns” with their children (including adult children) to make sure that they listed Tatar as their nationality.
A small number of adult respondents refused to list their nationality, either because they did not want to choose between the nationalities of their parents or because they did not believe that the nationality category was something the state had any need to know. In one case for which I was present, the respondent (a “100% Tatar” but married to a Russian) insisted that the enumerator not list her nationality because she believed that this was not an important category in modern society.
Citizenship
The question of citizenship did not generate a lot of controversy during the census. While there was no campaign to this end, a number of people declared themselves to be citizens of Tatarstan rather than of the Russian Federation. In the one case where I was present, this led to a discussion between the respondent and the enumerator as to whether one could really be a Tatarstan citizen, but in the end the respondent insisted and the answer was written down.
The larger problem with the citizenship question was the tendency of enumerators to mark Russian citizenship without really asking the question, or to make the mark as they were asking the question, without waiting to hear the answer. Enumerators who participated in our focus group mentioned that they were told by instructors to only ask the citizenship question of people “who look like they might have dual citizenship.” When pressed as to what this meant in practice, the enumerators pointed to people with a higher education or those who looked foreign.
Language
The most significant problem with the conduct of the census involved the question of native language. The removal of the native language from the census questionnaire was reconsidered, but too late to reintroduce the question to the form. Instead, Goskomstat instructed enumerators to ask the native language of all respondents, then either mark a box at the bottom of the form if the native language was Russian or list the native language as the first response to the question about other languages known. This would have been a workable solution, provided that all enumerators followed the printed instructions. As it was, many enumerators did not read the instructions, but simply followed the questions on the form. Others were told by instructors to disregard the instructions and only ask questions that were found on the form. The result was that the native language question was asked inconsistently. A phone survey conducted by one Tatar ethnographer of 30 acquaintances in different districts of Kazan found that only 7 of 30 had been asked the native language question. Since there is no way of determining with certainty from a particular questionnaire whether that individual was asked about his or her native language, it is unclear how (and whether) native language data will be compiled for this census.[3] It is clear already that any data about native language from this census must be used with great caution.
Another peculiarity of the census process involved cases of nationalist Tatars who declared that they did not know Russian even though they had answered the first eight questions of the census in flawless Russian. While these cases were rare, they speak to the continued resentment against the dominance of the Russian language in Tatarstan among a small group of Tatar intellectuals.
[1]The questions were rarely completely skipped. Instead, the interaction took the form of: “Citizen of Russia, right?” said as the enumerator was already checking the box.