--- andie nachgeborenen <andie_nachgeborenen at yahoo.com> wrote: Now, I don't know the situation in Chechnya, so I can't comment there. But the point is that even if it is a recent national identity it could be a real one.
---
See, this is the typically confusion between place name and name of ethnic group. "Chechen" and "person who lives in Chechnya" are not the same thing. So when I see things like "90% of Chechens voted for independence in 1992" (itself a very dubious statement) I have to laugh. What that means is "90% of ethnic Chechens." (According to Nabi Abdullaev, who I have no reason to disbelieve, Dudaev become the "democratically elected president of Chechnya" by means of a truck driving through the Grozny announcing "Dudaev is the democratically elected leader of Chechnya" through its loudspeakers.)
In 1989, the Chechen population of Chechnya/Ingushetia was 58%. The rest were Ingush, Russian, Jewish, Cossack, Ukrainian, Armenian and others. It is now close to zero. (Ingushetia broke off from Chechnya in 1992 over just this issue. In 1992, there was almost a shotting war between the Chechen nationalists and Ingush, who are culturally almost identical, when the Dudaev junta decided the latter were race traitors.) That's a very effective way of creating a national identity -- kick out everybody who doesn't conform. National unity through ethnic cleansing! Not to mention that the entire Chechen intelligentsia and elite got the fuck out of dodge in the early 1990s.
A member of the Maskhadov government alluded to this back in the late 90s when he dismissed the idea that Chechnya had any obligation to non-Chechen former residents because "there were no non-Chechens in Chechnya in 1996." Way to go! Ariel Sharon would be very proud!
Robert Bruce Ware wrote a rather scathing review of Evangelista's book I sent to Justin offlist and anybody should be able to find easily via googling.
Incidentally there's a description of the early 1990s in Grozny from the point of view of a Russian Groznyite now living in South Korea here: http://www.anycities.com/user/conrad/english/grozny_eng.htm
The English is passable. I believe he is who he says he is, since it certainly corroborates what I've heard from other people down there. Here's a snippet:
(snip)
Each and every evening of that eventful year, I met with my friends when we returned from our give-a-ride shifts, or from whatever other work. I deliberately use words "shift" and "work" avoiding the term "job". There were no jobs in the "Republic" in the proper sense of the word. Some oil refineries kept functioning but they were controlled by the local warlords and their clans. Some schools and even hospitals kept working but no employee was getting a salary.
So, every evening I met with my friends to exchange news and rumors. Even though the city had in its better times population around 470 thousand, it seemed that everyone knew or had heard of everyone. Or, at least, had common friends or neighbours. Or worked at the same factory. Our conversations typically started with a certain topic and ended with it:
- Do you happen to know that fellow? The one who used to work at the nearby shop.
- Yup. His name rings a bell. Why?
- Yesterday a gang broke into his house... They cut the throats of his whole family and his children. And "expropriated" their apartment, of course.
- By the way, did you know that other family next block?
- Yup. That I already know. All gone. Throats cut... Some Chechen villagers are living in their house now.
When an individual or a family were simply asassinated, it was trivial and elevated no interest. More often families were exterminated with cruelty unusual for the modern society: still alive people were fleeced or sliced in pieces, children were raped and then thrown out of the window.
That was chilling. Chilling and, once again, very unusual. In the first weeks of the "Chechen People's Republic of Ichkeria" many preferred not to believe in such stories. But the sacred traditions of tribal society were getting more and more devotees, and the so profitable "people's resistance to nonbelievers and occupants" was rapidly gaining momentum.
Soon no one refused to believe such news, because these news were no longer unusual. They became our everyday reality. People eventually get used to everything. The death was deprived of its aura of fear and became our good neighbor. It was accompanying each of us through the entire daytime. It moved even closer in the night and its embrace became unbearable in the early morning hours when shots and visceral groans were heared in the dark streets of our erstwhile cosy town.
(snip)
One day I was giving a ride to my friend in a microregion (a remote part of the city).I pulled over a small street market to drop him off and was supposed to wait for him to finish his business. Suddenly I noticed an elderly “jackal” in civilian clothes unsteadily heading to my direction. It was absolutely clear that there was nothing good to expect of such an encounter. I looked around carefully, it seemed like nobody paid attention to me. Loaded my shortgun just in case and put it between the seats. He came up to my car.
- You, kike! Take me to the sixth Microregion.
I started to talk with him as if he were a mental patient trying not to anger him.
- You see, pal. I’ve run out of gas and have enough only to reach my garage. So, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.By the way, I’m not a kike, I’m a Cossack, if you want to know.
- I told you, kike, if you don’t take me there, I’ll drop a grenade into your f g car and you’ll die!
Nu, zayats, pogodi!
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