BASHKORTOSTAN: A “REPUBLIC” CAUGHT BETWEEN A MOSCOW-RULED PAST AND A DREAMED-OF INDEPENDENT FUTURE

There are placeswhere history doesn’t march forward so much as circle back on itself like atrain on a loop line – Bashkortostan is one of them. On paper it’s a republicwith its own flag, parliament and – once upon a time – even a president. Inreality it’s a colony whose “sovereignty” dissolved into Kremlin paperwork longbefore most people noticed. It’s a post-Soviet phantom: formally a “federalsubject”, yet with no real agency; nominally a republican nation, yet stillwithout a voice.

At first glanceeverything seems calm. Radiy Khabirov – governor in title, viceroy in substance– speaks confidently of “peace”, “preventive measures” and “development.” Hemeets with diaspora groups, vows to fight “radicals”, and, in classic Newspeakfashion, hints at purging the “dissenters”, usually meaning migrants. Behindthis ritual of governance is not a concern for stability so much as a franticattempt to seal cracks that are about to widen.

Bashkortostan islike Kazakhstan – only (for now) without independence. The same post-imperialtrauma, the same Soviet-era industrialization, the same memory of colonization.But in 1991 Kazakhstan struck out on its own – albeit in a partly authoritarianway – while Bashkortostan stayed inside the circle of “friendship of peoples”,a phrase long since turned sardonic. The republic proclaimed sovereignty in1990; today this is remembered only by historians and those tracking therepression of national activists.

Kazakhstan hasborders, its own currency, diplomacy, and a flag at the Olympics. Bashkortostanhas refineries, Bashneft with a registration in Moscow, and schoolchildren whostudy their native language only as an elective. Kazakhstan built a state;Bashkortostan built a shopwindow of loyalty. The contrast between those twopaths is especially painful now: Kazakhstan is a mirror of what was possible,while Bashkortostan is a lesson in what has become reality.

Moscow long agoturned the “federal treaty” into little more than a pact of surrender. Local“elites” slotted themselves into the Kremlin’s chain of command; the republickept its flag, but the meaning behind it evaporated. But – as is known – a vacuumnever stays empty. Where institutions are missing, discontent grows. Where noone is represented, radicalism follows. So, when officials in Ufa announce anew crackdown on the “un-integrated”, it is easy to forget that the Bashkirsthemselves stopped being integrated a long time ago. They are nominal insiderswho are forever benched. Their language is pushed aside, their historyrewritten, their economy run from the imperial center.

The math ofMoscow’s empire is simple: loyalty traded for resources. Yet in Bashkortostaneven this bargain is crooked. Resources flow out, while the “subsidies” thatreturn can’t be spent without Moscow’s nod. Economic colonization piles ontothe cultural kind. Bashkir villages empty out, young people leave, and folkfestivals devolve into exotic stage-shows for career-minded officials speakingRussian.

The West – so usedto seeing the nations and regions under Moscow’s rule as a gray blur beyond theRing Road – would do well to look closer. When Bashkortostan finally steps outof the empire’s shadow, it won’t be because someone granted permission; it willbe because life inside that shadow became unbearable. Independence isn’t alwaysa declaration of will; sometimes it is the residue of accumulated humiliation.

Kazakhstan hasproven that even an authoritarian state can act on its own. Bashkortostan, sofar, proves that even a “republic” can be little more than a statistic. Thechoice between those two paths isn’t about geography – it’s about resolve. Andwhen people in Ufa raise the banner of sovereignty again, no one should besurprised. They will only need to recall how many times the Bashkirs were toldthey are nothing but a disposable colony for “great” Moscow.