Amidst the extraordinary whirlwind of events that heralded the collapse of the Soviet Union, a law was passed in Moscow which reverberated into the distant reaches of the soon-to-be-formed Russian Federation. The statute ‘On the Rehabilitation of Repressed Peoples,’ signed on April 29th 1991, has been described by human rights activist Magomed Mutsolgov as the most humane law in modern Russian history. It sought to redress the grievances of nations and ethnic groups who had been subjected to “illegal and repressive acts” during Joseph Stalin’s regime, such as genocide, deportation, slander, and territorial deprivals. To many in Ingushetia, a majority-Sunni Muslim republic nestled in the Northern Caucasus, this law promised to heal wounds inflicted over half a century ago.
In 1944, the Ingush people, along with their Chechen neighbours to the east, were falsely accused by the Soviet state of collaborating with the invading Nazis and labelled as traitors. On the orders of Stalin, the entire Ingush and Chechen populations were deported to Central Asia and Siberia. Approximately 30% of them died on the journey or within their first year of exile. It wasn’t until 1957 that, as part of Khrushchov’s ‘destalinization,’ the native Ingush were permitted to return to the parts of their land that hadn’t been settled by their Orthodox Christian neighbours to the west, the North Ossetians.
Thus, after decades of animosity between the Ingush and the North Ossetians, from whom the returning population had to repurchase their homes, the 1991 law offered hope of a peaceful resolution. Indeed, when Chechnya declared its independence later that year, the Ingush chose to secede from the Chechen-Ingush Republic and hoped their loyalty to Moscow would expedite the promised rehabilitation.
But the following year, ethnic tensions spilled over into violence. On October 20th, 1992, a 12-year-old Ingush girl was killed by an Ossetian armoured personnel carrier. Two days later Ossetian policemen shot dead two Ingushetians in the Prigorodny District. This disputed sliver of land between the two republics became the scene of intense fighting and by October 31st around 3,000 Russian soldiers were sent to the region, ostensibly as peacekeepers. Although the Russian troops sometimes intervened to prevent acts of violence by the Ossetian security forces, they were strongly pro-Ossetian in their approach. According to the Human Rights Watch report on the conflict, Russian forces armed the North Ossetians and sometimes even led them into battle. Meanwhile, the Ingush who had resettled in the expanded North Ossetia were forcibly evicted from their homes. After six days of fierce fighting, and accusations of ethnic cleansing in the Prigorodny District, an uneasy ceasefire was brokered.
Yet, in the three decades following this whirlwind of events, very little has changed. The animosity festers, Russian troops remain in the region, and the law ‘On the Rehabilitation of Repressed Peoples’ remains unimplemented.
The Ossetian-Ingush conflict is, in many ways, a frozen conflict resembling others in the post-Soviet space. Ethnic divisions, territorial disputes, and unresolved status can also be witnessed, for example, over the peaks of the Caucasus mountains in South Ossetia. But what makes Ingushetia’s situation unique is that the Ingush have always considered their dispute to be an intra-state conflict. Unlike Chechnya or national minorities in Moldova (Transnistria), Azerbaijan (Nagorno-Karabakh), Georgia (South Ossetia and Abkhazia), and Ukraine (Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk), Ingushetia does not seek genuine independence. Thus, there is no conceivable international aspect to the conflict, and the only major voice able to mediate a resolution speaks from the Kremlin.
Despite the traumatic events of the Stalin era―still within living memory as Ingushetia has a federation-high life expectancy of over 82 years―and subsequent repressions, the Ingush continue to place their fate in Moscow’s hands. The Ingush may not trust the central government, and certainly not the brutal security services, but they will work with them in pursuit of peace. Moscow, for its part, has engaged in facilitating negotiations between the North Ossetians and the Ingush rather than imposing a settlement from afar. While the partial reneging from its earlier pro-Ossetian position may reflect a fear of provoking full-scale violence as seen in Chechnya, it must be welcomed nonetheless. However, regardless of who sits at the negotiating table, two fundamental issues still preclude the rehabilitation of this repressed people: refugees and territory.
Over 40,000 Ingushetian refugees fled from the violence and reprisals of the early 1990s, their second forced displacement in half a century. In 1995, a Russian-mediated agreement impelled North Ossetia to allow Ingush refugees from the Prigorodny District to return to their homes, but it wasn’t enforced. North Ossetia insisted that “the time has not yet come for Ossetians and Ingushetians to try to live together again” and proceeded to ensure this by demanding that Ingushetia officially accept its responsibility for starting the hostilities.
The North Ossetians have been equally unequivocal in their stance on a territorial settlement. The issue centres on the Prigorodny District which was not returned to Ingushetia along with the rest of its territory in 1957. Zakri Mamilov, a member of the People’s Assembly of Ingushetia, calls the district the “cradle of our civilization,” but to this day it is recognized as part of North Ossetia by the Russian constitution. The North Ossetians, therefore, consider negotiations unacceptable in principle. Meanwhile, the Ingush came to accept by 1995 that the statute ‘On the Rehabilitation of Repressed Peoples’ would not deliver the territorial rehabilitation it promised. Instead, they asked only for the region to come under direct federal control; even this was roundly rejected by the North Ossetians.
The Ingush, therefore, continue to seek justice for historical crimes against them that have been officially denounced as such. They have found the North Ossetians unwilling to negotiate, and the Russian government unwilling to force them to. A history of animosity and bloodshed is deployed to justify their frozen existence, but as an Ingush proverb says, “blame is always on the deceased.” It is now time for the living to move beyond the trauma of history.
It seems to me that if violence were to erupt once more, it would do so from amongst the people. Moscow has no desire for violence within its borders, and Moscow can readily replace leaders. In 1992 they appointed decorated Soviet war hero Ruslan Aushev as the first president of Ingushetia precisely in order to prevent further violence. The Ingushetian and North Ossetian authorities may have disputes, but neither can sanction attacks against the other.
At the same time, however, if peace is to settle over the breathtaking slopes of the northern Caucasus, it must arise from the people. There is no point in negotiating the return of Ingush refugees or redrawing lines on the map if the likely result is to spark fresh clashes and displacement. As long as the people are kept separated, the conflict is frozen; neither war nor peace are possible.
How, though, can we hope to build relationships between members of communities that are forcibly separated by Russian military bases? The details that will proffer such answers are hard to spot from afar, either from Moscow or from the UK as I write this. A fascinating article in the Calvert Journal entitled ‘Letter from Ingushetia,’ however, offers a glimpse into the reality of life in the parallel societies. It describes how Ingush women board a minibus to Vladikavkaz, the capital of North Ossetia, to purchase food and medicines. Although still a potentially hazardous expedition, women are less likely than men to provoke North Ossetian aggression. They seem to be one of the few human links between the republics.
The social location of women in the North Caucasus may provide unique opportunities for community reconciliation. In addition to their personal interactions and less-threatening disposition, women in the region also share common struggles in which they may find a unity more powerful than the disunity of ethnic conflict. Both North Ossetia and Ingushetia are patriarchal societies, in which the man is the head of the family and the woman is responsible for the household. The custom of “Waysadyn” is observed in many North Ossetian families, according to which the daughter-in-law does not have the right to talk in front of her husband’s male family members. In Ingushetia meanwhile, authorities issued a brochure in 2019 instructing women to be “deferential to men” of any age.
Moreover, recent discourse has begun to reveal the scale of domestic violence in both republics. There is no crisis centre in North Ossetia where women can receive help and protection, and the police rarely intervene in familial issues. Across the militarized border in Ingushetia, however, the ‘ING-Attention’ fem group was set up in 2019 to help women who need protection. Thus, on this issue over which the authorities seem to have abdicated responsibility, there is both the opportunity and the exigency for women from both communities to support each other. If the work of the ‘ING-Attention’ fem group could be replicated in the territory of its western neighbour, advice shared and stories confided, it is possible that a level of trust could develop between segments of each society. Ingushetian women furtively shopping in Vladikavkaz can form the intersection from which mutual understanding may emanate. Once human interaction is established, greater networks of trans-border relations may follow until the critical mass no longer regard the other as the enemy. Only once this has happened can we be sure that the proposed large-scale return of refugees or resolution of territorial disputes will bring harmony.
It is of course quite possible that another foundational connection will develop instead, in some similarly obscure element of daily life that is typically overlooked. The essential thing, however, is that such interpersonal relationships develop; they alone can cause the ripples of change which may one day become a wave. The statute ‘On the Rehabilitation of Repressed Peoples’ was indeed humane, but the approach which can realize its intentions must first and foremost be human.
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