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The
Atlantic Monthly | January/February 2005
Fervently Orthodox, anti-Islamic, and proudly militaristic, the Cossacks are on
the rise in Vladimir Putin's new
by Jeffrey Tayler
.....
Last year I joined Russian police officers and Cossack
militiamen as they carried out a joint patrol in the Cossack capital of
I was not at ease. It was January 13 (New Year's Eve by the Julian
calendar), and security was heavy throughout the city. Novocherkassk
is 375 miles to the northwest of Chechnya (practically a border town, given the
size of the country), and during the past decade secessionist Muslim rebels
have taken to crossing into nearby towns in the southern provinces of European
Russia—where historically Christian Europe has abutted the Caucasian
realms of Islam—to blow up buses, trains, and markets; the rebels'
seizure of a school in Beslan was the latest and most
shocking episode in this conflict. Indeed, these attacks represent an important
reversion to what was the norm in the region for centuries before the Soviet
era: violence between
"We Cossacks are Christians," said Valerii
Alyokhin, a jovial, brawny Cossack first lieutenant
whose round white face ended at the black knit cap covering his brow. "So
we'll never be friends with Muslims—never. We won't let them build
mosques here."
Crude words, these—but nothing in the Cossacks' past, as either
slaughterers or slaughtered, has favored subtlety. Legendary for both their
equestrian skills and their martial talents, the Cossacks galloped into Russian
history in the fifteenth century. By settling and defending the steppes south
of
Early on, Cossacks earned a reputation as anti-Semitic and anti-Catholic
fanatics—in addition, of course, to being implacable foes of the region's
Muslims. A people of mixed ethnic roots, bound as much by a fervent Orthodox
Christian faith as by a spirited animus against Islam, Cossacks frequently
pillaged their non-Orthodox neighbors, killing men, carrying off women, and
seizing whatever loot they could stuff into their saddlebags. In pre-Soviet
Russia (whose history from the rise of Muscovy onward was marked by tyranny,
serfdom, and oppression, to say nothing of timid, even groveling deference
toward despotic rulers) Cossacks held themselves above others as vol'nye, "free," but in a defiant sense of
the word that approaches "willful" or "domineering." A love
of liberty seemed to define their identity—even if that liberty often
amounted to the bloody plunder of those around them.
Mostly hostile to communism, the Cossacks suffered widespread repression
during Soviet days, but they launched a successful revival under Boris Yeltsin.
Since 1991 twelve Cossack academies have opened across
A few days before going on patrol I had accepted an invitation to dine at
the home of Irina Firsova,
the genial director of a five-member Cossack musical ensemble called Rodnik ("The Source"). On a snowy evening, in the
homey glow of low-wattage yellow bulbs, I sat with Irina,
her husband, Vladimir, and her fellow Rodnik members
around a kitchen table covered with sausage, cheese, salted cucumbers,
mushrooms, and, of course, bottles of vodka.
Vladimir, a portly man in his fifties with a defiantly high shock of white
hair, poured us all hundred-gram shots of vodka and asked everyone to stand. We
did, and raised our glasses. The ensemble welcomed me with a song as deafening
as it was spirited—to which I could imagine men in conical fur hats
hurling aside tables and performing the famous, tendon-tearing Cossack
squat-and-kick dance called the kazachok. After the song
they shouted, "Na zdorov'ye! Na slavu!"
("To health! To glory!"), and we gulped down
our vodka.
Seated again, I mentioned that I had read much about the Cossacks' military
prowess—words I intended as a compliment. I told them that during my
years as a graduate student in Russian history, in the mid-1980s, I was taught
that the first Cossacks were serfs who escaped bondage in northern and central
Russia during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, fled south, and
established themselves in a remote frontier zone, which the Kremlin allowed
them to occupy as long as they functioned as a sort of military caste that kept
the Turks and other Muslim peoples at bay. This is a theory still widely held
in
My words sparked a voluble reaction from my hosts. "We are not a
caste," said Yana Samsonova,
a woman in her twenties whose dark eyes, black hair, and fleshy form embody the
Cossacks' concept of beauty—decidedly non-Russian and almost Middle
Eastern. "You have to be born a Cossack. No matter what I do, I can
never become a Chechen. It's the same thing, a matter of blood."
"We accepted the runaway-serf theory to please
This sensitivity originates in the Cossacks' history, which is one of
sovereignty and freedom followed by massacre and humiliation. Even as their
ranks were swelling, the Cossacks' golden era began slipping away with a job
offer from Ivan the Terrible of Muscovy, in 1570. To revive
His army razed forty-eight Cossack settlements and killed 7,000 people; but
later, fearing Ottoman expansionism, Peter allowed a revival—on the
condition that Cossacks accept an ataman, or chieftain, appointed by the
czar to rule the oblast. They agreed. Moreover, sensing that they couldn't
resist the embrace of a newly powerful
In 1919 the advancing Red Army drove abroad tens of thousands of White Army
Cossacks, and captured most of the rest.
Most were. On December 30, 1919, Lenin issued the second order for mass
murder in Cossack history, demanding that approximately one million Cossack
prisoners be "executed to the last man"—that is, men, women,
and children all. Close to two million Cossacks were shot, exiled to
"Democracy was the law of our land,"
Irina said, "Cossacks never bowed or
curtsied when greeting others; they only nodded their heads. We never
knew slavery."
They stood up and raised their glasses, which
Balding and muscular, and in his thirties, Mikhail Bespalov is a
Cossack filmmaker and writer from Rostov-on-Don who has risked his life for
Russia, first as a commander defending the Supreme Soviet from the Communist
coup attempt of August 1991, and later as an officer in the Transdniester
and Abkhazia conflicts, fighting in support of Russian minorities who were
under assault by ethnic majorities eager to establish sovereignty in their
homelands. (The Russians, thanks partly to Cossack
intervention, won in both cases—at least unofficially.) Renowned
as a Cossack leader, Bespalov traces his roots to a
seventeenth-century ataman and the Zaporozhian
Cossacks immortalized by Gogol in the novel Taras Bulba.
"If you don't recognize the Cossacks as a people, then we have nothing
to discuss," he told me in lieu of a more polite greeting when we met for
a talk in the lobby bar of my hotel. He explained what many now consider the
most credible theory of the Cossacks' origin: that they were an ancient warrior
people of Scythian stock, referred to as the Kossaraka
in Greek inscriptions found near the Black Sea; runaway serfs came later,
bringing to the Kossaraka Christianity and the Old
Russian language from which modern Russian, Ukrainian, and Belorussian
developed in the thirteenth century.
Bespalov has a steely smile, literally: he lost
his front teeth in the Transdniester war and replaced
them with a metal bridge. "The Cossacks were never serfs," he told
me, "so we couldn't be driven back into slavery the way the Russians
were"—an allusion to the abolition of
serfdom in 1861 and the "re-enslavement" following the 1917
revolution. "The Bolsheviks knew they could only give the Cossacks their
independence or destroy us to the last man."
Bespalov told me how, in 1991, he had organized
the Cossacks' storming of the Communist Party headquarters in Rostov-on-Don,
with the aim of seizing documents that would incriminate the outgoing regime in
the slaughter of his people. "We put tremendous pressure on the
authorities in 1991," he said, referring to those in
Bespalov didn't dwell on his own role in these
conflicts; always he was just doing his duty, both to
He looked hard at me. "There could have been another
Bespalov's words signaled that at least one
radical Cossack has renounced the swashbuckling attitude of his ancestors. This
seemed like progress to me—but I did wonder about what lay behind his
remark. With the Soviets gone, and with Russia increasingly concerned about the
threat from Chechnya and other nearby Islamic regions, could it be that the
Cossack militias patrolling the tense, foggy towns of southern Russia now see
themselves as returning to their larger and more epic historical struggle?
Jeffrey Tayler is an Atlantic
correspondent and the author of three books, including Glory in a Camel's
Eye. His fourth book, Angry Wind: Through Muslim Black
Copyright © 2005 by The
Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly;
January/February 2005;