Russia Is An Artificial Entity

In the popular imagination, as well as in the minds of historians and policymakers Russia has often been seen as a unitary nation, similar to other European nations such as Germany, France, or Britain. But at the same time, unlike in other European nations, the confluence of national and imperial identity in Russian consciousness has puzzled many observers.

And herein lies the source of confusion. Because Russia is viewed from a wrong perspective that does not represent its current historical trajectory. If you look at Russia not as a nation in the modern Western sense, but rather as a common cultural area consisting of regions with different ethnic makeups, like Europe, Latin America, or the Arab world, for example, then everything falls into place. Within this constellation, then, the designation of "Russian" is not the true equivalent of national designations like "German", "French", or "English". The equivalents of those nations within the Russian space are yet to emerge! Russia is yet to undergo the process of formation of various different nations on its territory, with their own unique identities, national myths and possibly their own wars of independence. A close historical analogy might be what took place in Spanish America in the first half of the 19th century.

In fact, Russia can reliably be designated as the Latin America of North Eurasia. Just like Latin America, the vast territory that is known today as “Russia” is an area originally inhabited by Asian peoples wherein Europeans penetrated and intermixed with the local autochthonous populations – Finno-Ugric, Turkic and Mongolic, imposing on them their language and culture in the process. The admixture took place to varying extents in different geographical regions. The same was true of Spanish America during colonization where Spaniards and later European settlers intermixed with the indigenous Amerindian populations (direct descendants of those same North Asians who were colonized by Russians, by the way). Different geographical realities and different ethno-racial makeups of various Spanish American territories later on gave rise to different Latin American nations that we have today.

The impetus for the nation-formation process in Latin America came from the Spanish defeat at the hands of Napoleon and the subsequent occupation of Iberian Peninsula by France in the early 19th century, which led to a power vacuum in the imperial center. In 1808, with King Ferdinand VII forced to abdicate, many regions in Spanish America began to form their own local juntas (autonomous governments), initially to rule in the name of the deposed monarch but quickly evolving into movements for outright independence. Between 1810 and 1811, for example, autonomous governments emerged in Caracas (leading to the First Venezuelan Republic), Buenos Aires (the May Revolution, which founded the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata), and elsewhere, as did declarations of independence in Paraguay (1811) and the short-lived First Republic of Chile (beginning 1810, formal independence declared in 1818). Mexico’s quest for independence began in 1810 and eventually culminated in formal independence in 1821, while Central American provinces followed suit that same year. Colombia (then known as New Granada) took up arms in 1810, with its independence consolidated in the following years, and simultaneous uprisings in Quito eventually contributed to Ecuador’s freedom. By the mid-1820s, Spanish authority had crumbled in much of the region, with new nations such as Peru and Bolivia emerging in succession and securing their sovereignty through drawn-out Wars of Independence.

An analogous process began to take place in Russia after Russian defeat against Germany in the First World War. Given enough time Germans would have reorganized Eastern Europe – the process they already started by establishing an independent Ukrainian Republic in 1918, for example. Due to a power vacuum in the imperial center the rest of the Russian Empire also started disintegrating with various regions declaring their independent republics. In the immediate aftermath of the Bolshevik Revolution, Finland declared its independence on December 6, 1917, followed by the proclamation of the Ukrainian People’s Republic in January 1918. Soon after, Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia each declared independence over the course of 1918, while the Belarusian People’s Republic later emerged in March of that same year. The Transcaucasian region likewise broke away: Georgia declared independence on May 26, 1918, and Armenia and Azerbaijan followed on May 28. Moreover, the Mountainous Republic of the Northern Caucasus also announced its independence around the same time: it united several ethnicities of the Northern Caucasus, like Chechens, Ingush, Dagestanis and Circassians. Meanwhile, Cossack territories splintered off as well, with the Don Republic and the Kuban People’s Republic announcing their independence in 1918. Around the same time, a Provisional Government of Autonomous Siberia (often referred to as the “Siberian Republic”) and the Idel-Ural State in the Volga-Ural region declared autonomy.

The situation in Russia of the early 20^th century was indeed very similar to the Spanish America of the early 19th century. That was meant to be an important turning point in history, but unlike in Latin America, in Russia history failed to turn; or rather it was not allowed to turn. The German defeat on the Western Front gave the Bolsheviks a vital reprieve. Had Germany held out longer, it’s likely they would have completed the reordering of Eastern Europe they had already begun – starting with the creation of an independent Ukrainian Republic in 1918. But when the Entente powers emerged victorious, their attention turned almost entirely to humiliating and dismantling the German and Austro-Hungarian empires. The Russian Empire, by contrast, was completely spared this treatment.

The national aspirations of peoples within the former Russian Empire were swiftly brushed aside. Delegations like that of the Ukrainians at the Paris Peace Conference were ignored or dismissed, while others – like the Poles or Czechs – were given international recognition. Worse still, when the Bolsheviks were teetering on the brink – Russia starving, the new regime fragile – the United States stepped in to stabilize their hold on power. In the early 1920s, substantial material and financial aid flowed into Russia, helping the Bolsheviks consolidate control.

What is often referred to as the “Russian Civil War” is in fact a deeply misleading label. It was not merely a struggle between the Reds and Whites. It was, in essence, a series of Wars of Independence, waged by the empire’s constituent nations & regions against a weakened center, analogous to the Spanish America of the early 19^th century. It was a war between national self-determination and imperial resurgence. The Bolsheviks were essentially imperial restorers reassembling the Russian Empire, albeit under a different name and ideology. The empire’s name changed, its ideology shifted, but its essence remained the same.

That’s the real tragedy. In Spanish America, when history reached a similar crossroads, events were allowed to follow their natural course. Western powers – Britain in particular – in some critical moments even aided the independence movements against Spain. But in Russia, the opposite occurred. Instead of backing the secessionist republics and national movements, the West, first and foremost the United States, ultimately enabled the reconstitution of the empire. The Russian Empire, unlike its Spanish counterpart, was not allowed to dissolve – it was actively rescued. It was artificially sustained.

A similar pattern repeated itself with the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Once again, history opened a door for the Russian empire to finally dissolve. And once again, the United States stepped in to keep it from happening.

At first, the U.S. tried to prevent the Soviet Union’s collapse altogether. In August 1991 – just weeks before Ukraine declared independence – President George H.W. Bush stood before the Ukrainian parliament and urged them not to leave the union. In what later became known as the infamous “Chicken Kyiv” speech, he warned against what he called “suicidal nationalism”. In effect, he equated Russia’s imperial domination with stability and cast Ukrainian aspirations for self-determination as dangerous and backward. Effectively, the victim was shamed for its striving for independence from its long-time abuser, whereas the abuser was cast in good light.

Though the Soviet Union did eventually fall apart, and the former republics gained independence, this was only a partial disintegration. Many other regions with clear secessionist ambitions remained trapped within the borders of the Russian Federation. The deeper collapse – of imperial Russia itself – was halted once again, largely thanks to U.S. support.

In the early 1990s, centrifugal forces inside Russia were strong. Regional governments began erecting roadblocks and checkpoints, effectively creating internal borders between emerging proto-states. Chechnya declared full independence as the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria. Tatarstan followed, asserting its own sovereignty. The Ural Republic declared autonomy. For a moment, it seemed that the last remnants of the Russian Empire might finally come undone.

But that process was violently reversed. Russia launched two brutal wars to crush Chechnya’s independence. The campaign bore all the hallmarks of imperial counterinsurgency, with ethnic cleansing and mass atrocities. Meanwhile, Tatarstan was brought to heel through coercion, blackmail, and the unspoken threat of meeting Chechnya’s fate. Throughout this period, the United States did not merely look the other way – it actively enabled Russia’s reassertion of control. President Bill Clinton, in one of the more revealing moments of the era, likened the Chechen freedom fighters to the Confederacy in the American Civil War – effectively casting the victims of imperial repression as the villains. The U.S. provided diplomatic cover for Russia’s actions, treating its internal wars not as anti-colonial uprisings but as internal security matters.

Moreover, just like in the 1920s, Russia was teetering on the brink of collapse in the early 1990s – its economy in freefall, its population facing hunger. And once again, the United States stepped in. Washington provided sweeping financial aid, food shipments, technical expertise, and helped reintegrate Russia into global institutions. This support was extended even as Russia launched its imperial resurgence immediately after the collapse of the Soviet Union: engineering a coup in Georgia in 1991 to oust its popular president Zviad Gamsakhurdia, invading Moldova in 1992 and occupying Transnistria, and beginning the military suppression of Chechnya in 1994.

The most striking injustice of all came in the realm of nuclear disarmament. Rather than pressuring a collapsing Russia to relinquish its nuclear arsenal – as it easily would have, in exchange for the massive aid being offered – the United States instead pressured Ukraine, the empire’s historical victim, to give up its nuclear weapons. Those weapons, alongside conventional but nuclear-capable ones, were then transferred to Russia. In other words, the U.S. helped rearm the former imperial center while disarming one of its most vulnerable former colonies.

So, once again the historical opportunity was missed and the natural process of nation formation within the Russian space was interrupted. Both in 1917 and in 1991 the Western powers didn’t allow history to take its natural course and allow Russian Empire – that artificial edifice – to disintegrate completely. They actively intervened to keep that edifice alive. The Bolshevik government, and later the Yeltsin government, were showered with much needed material and financial aid, giving them the opportunity to reconsolidate Russia into its unitary form, thereby interrupting the natural historical process. Unlike the Spanish rule in Latin America, the imperial Russia, in both its Soviet and post-Soviet forms, was artificially maintained with active support of the United States.

To grasp the full absurdity of what happened, imagine a different historical scenario. Picture the early 19th century, as Spanish America began to break free from imperial rule. Now imagine the British King or Prime Minister traveling to, let’s say, Buenos Aires to lecture local leaders on the dangers of “destructive nationalism” and urge them to remain loyal to the Spanish Crown. Imagine European powers warning the revolutionaries that their quest for independence would destabilize global order, create dangerous precedents, or threaten regional security.

Now imagine those same powers pressuring the Latin American provinces to hand over their weapons to Madrid – arming the weakened imperial center while disarming the would-be liberators from imperial rule. Instead of supporting independence, as Britain eventually did, picture Europe funneling money, weapons, and supplies to Spain to help crush the revolts.

It sounds preposterous – almost like a satire. But that is exactly what the United States did with Russia in the 20th century. First after 1917, then again after 1991, Washington took the side of the crumbling imperial center against the peoples trying to break free from it. It backed the artificial unity over justice, semblance of order over self-determination. It chose to preserve the empire – several times – at the expense of history’s natural course.

However, history moves on instead of twists and turns. One can thwart and delay the natural historical processes but cannot abolish them. The much-delayed process of Russian disintegration will eventually be completed. And it will most likely follow along Latin American lines. The main driving force behind Latin American independence were local born elites of Spanish descent called "Criollos". Despite being of Spanish extraction, with time they came to view themselves distinctly from Iberian Spaniards. This feeling of distinctness by the local Criollo elites combined with the presence of the autochthonous Amerindian elements is what gave rise to the various Latin American nations. It didn't happen in an instant. The whole process was preceded by decades of growing discontent with the imperial policy. French occupation of Iberia was just the trigger that let it all burst out.

The same is true about Russia. The "Russians" of Siberia, the Far East, the Ural region and the Northwest (Novgorod, Ingria, Karelia, Pskov, Smolensk etc.) are very different from each other in their ethno-racial makeup, regional identities, geographical & socioeconomic realities, and historical memories to the extent that they might be considered as separate (proto)-nations. Apart from these distinct “Russian” regional identities there are also obviously other peoples within the Russian Federation that have little in common with nominal “Russians” other than being subjected to centuries of forced Russification – e.g., Tatars, Bashkirs, Chechens, Ingush, Yakuts, Kalmyks, Buryats etc. One should therefore not be deceived by the apparent uniformity of the Russian population. Also just like in Spanish America of the 19th century, there's a growing discontent of the local populations in the regions with Moscow's rapacious policy, which by all means can be called "colonial".

Therefore, at some point, sooner or later, this will all inevitably burst out again like it did in Spanish America, and different nations will emerge on the Russian territory, most likely led by their Russian "Criollo" and autochthonous elites. With regards to the emergence of new national identities within the post-Russian space, a scenario similar to Latin America will likely play out. The new post-Russian nations will use Russian as a common language. While maintaining their unique identities like their Latin American counterparts, they'll feel as parts of a larger common cultural realm, viewing themselves as "Russians", not in a national but broader cultural sense. Siberian, Uralian, Ingrian, Novgorodian will become the "Russian" equivalents of Mexican, Argentinean, Colombian, Chilean, with the Russian language playing a role similar to Spanish in Latin America. They will be united by one language and culture, but aware of each other's distinctness.

As for the non-“Russian” republics – those with their own distinct ethnic and linguistic heritages – they will naturally prioritize their national languages in public life and education. But just as Spanish functions as a lingua franca across much of Latin America, Russian is likely to retain a practical role for these post-Russian nations as well. It may be taught in schools alongside English, not as a symbol of imperial legacy, but as a regional tool for communication – especially with neighboring “Russian” republics. Just as Brazilians learn Spanish, and Argentinians or Uruguayans often learn Portuguese, the peoples of a post-imperial Eurasia may embrace multilingualism as a pragmatic necessity within a shared cultural landscape.

For more than a century, Russia has persisted as an artificial unitary state – its cohesion enforced not by consent, but by coercion, and repeatedly propped up by outside powers at key moments. This pattern cannot be allowed to repeat.

Calls for the disintegration of Russia are often misrepresented – as attempts to impose artificial identities or forcibly dismantle a natural whole. These critiques, voiced most loudly by Russian official figures and echoed by pro-Russian commentators in the West, are almost always made in bad faith. In truth, the opposite is the case. These are not calls to impose something artificial – they are calls to allow history to finally resume its natural course after a century of interruption. It is the centralized Russian state, not its dissolution, that is the real artifice: a construct sustained by force, designed to suppress the formation of new nations within its borders.

To speak of Russian decolonization is to speak of realization of suppressed possibilities. The task now is not to invent new nations, but to remove the barriers that have long prevented them from emerging.

The most immediate and necessary step in that direction is to ensure a total and unambiguous Russian defeat in Ukraine. That would mark the first true rupture in this artificial unitary edifice. And when, as a result, the central government in Moscow begins to lose its grip, the West must resist the temptation to intervene once again on behalf of "stability". It must not repeat the mistakes of 1917 or 1991.

Instead, it should recognize and support the natural process of disintegration. Just as Latin America gave birth to distinct national identities – Mexican, Chilean, Argentine – so too can post-Russian space give rise to new identities: Siberian, Uralian, Ingrian, and beyond.

And just as the Spanish identity no longer defines Latin America, the Russian identity need not define post-imperial Eurasia. In fact, it cannot. The idea of a singular “Russian” identity – imposed through nothing else but violence – has become irredeemably toxic. It must be made clear that the inhabitants of the Russian Federation, or its citizens abroad, will never again be accepted into the family of nations as “Russians”. But they will be instead welcomed into this family as Uralians, Siberians, Ingrians, Karelians and others.