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A History Not Told in School Textbooks In the russian school curriculum, the history of the Far East and the period of its colonization are presented superficially and fragmentarily. From modern textbooks, children learn only about the “conquest of Siberia by Yermak,” which mainly concerns the Khanty and Mansi peoples living thousands of kilometers away from the territory of the russian Far Eastern Federal District. Meanwhile, before the arrival of tsarist russia, the lands of the Far East were inhabited by Indigenous peoples such as the Nanai, Koryaks, Nivkhs, Ulchi, Evens, Orochi, and others, each with their own languages, cultures, and traditions of hunting, fishing, and reindeer herding. Their way of life was built on a close relationship with nature and on distinct social institutions that ensured the resilience of their communities and the transmission of knowledge from generation to generation. Colonialism was not a single event but a process that unfolded over centuries. The deliberate colonial policy of the Moscow occupiers aimed at erasing the history of Indigenous peoples has fostered widespread ignorance of their own past. Children of the Far Eastern peoples study the history of the Moscow principality in greater detail than the history of how their own ancestors lived, what lands they inhabited, and how they ultimately became part first of the Tsarist empire, then the Red empire, and finally the russian federation. A Nanai Family, First Half of the 20th Century The Conquest of the Far East: The Beginning of Colonization The Far East began turning into a colony long before imperial charters and official laws were introduced. As early as the 17th century, Cossack detachments, hunting expeditions, and other moscovites advanced along the Amur and Ussuri rivers and the coast of the Sea of Okhotsk. They began constructing forts and outposts, took control of the fur trade, and established the dependence of local peoples on tsarist merchants. These expeditions were rarely peaceful: historical sources record instances of violence, forced tax collection, and the coercive incorporation of Indigenous communities into a new system. The first settlements, such as the fort on the Ulya River built in 1639 by a Cossack detachment under the command of Ivan Moskvitin, and the Okhotsk fort founded by Semyon Shelkovnikov in 1647 as a major stronghold, served not as research bases but as important centers of colonial authority, strengthening the empire’s presence in territories where the Nanai, Nivkh, Evenki, Koryak, and other Indigenous peoples had lived for centuries. [1] Local residents were subjected to economic pressure and sometimes physical violence, creating a precedent for structural control and restrictions on freedom. All of this became the foundation for subsequent colonization that continued for centuries. In official imperial documents, Indigenous peoples were referred to as “natives” or “aliens,” immediately defining their status as “others” and emphasizing their dependence on the center. Tsarist administrations sought to control hunting, trade, and land, often imposing taxation systems, labor obligations, and regulations foreign to the traditional way of life. [2] Despite claims of a civilizing mission, in practice this meant the gradual restriction of community autonomy, the expansion of russian settlements, and active russification. For most Indigenous inhabitants of the Far East, this marked the beginning of a process that eroded traditional institutions, undermined languages, and transformed their way of life, while their history, culture, and rights to the land remained almost invisible in official chronicles. The state administration actively controlled the resources it extracted from far eastern colonies: it regulated the hunting and collection of furs, fish, and other resources, since these industries constituted a major source of income for the empire (trade in hides, furs, and fish supplied both the domestic market and exports). Map of the “Conquest” of Siberia and the Far East, Russian History Textbook Yasak and the Charter of 1822: An Imperial System of Control In the 17th–19th centuries, the yasak system was introduced, obliging the Indigenous peoples of the Far East—particularly in the regions of Kamchatka, the Okhotsk coast, and the northern territories—to pay yasak, a tax in furs. The collection of yasak was accompanied by the forced registration of the population. Abuses by tax collectors were common, and the tax itself drew communities into trade dependency on russian merchants. In addition, the state restricted and suppressed independent trade contacts between colonized peoples and other countries (for example, with China and Japan), which had existed for centuries prior. [3] In tsarist russia, control over resources was a key element of the colonial economy. It included the leasing and granting of licensed rights to fishing and hunting grounds, as well as oversight of catches and harvesting that were important sources of state revenue. Naturally, the local inhabitants of the Far East received no share of the profits the empire derived from their resources. Collection of Yasak in the Far East, 17th Century In 1822, an attempt was made to systematize the administration of these peoples—the Statute on the Administration of Non-Russians  officially defined the status of the inhabitants of Siberia and the Far East, but did so within the framework of an imperial system in which control and expansion remained the primary priorities. The law formally established a special status for Indigenous peoples, yet at the same time it merely consolidated control over them. [4] For example, the Statute introduced for the first time a special term to designate the Indigenous peoples of Siberia and the Far East: from that point on, people who had lived on these lands for centuries were referred to as “inorodtsy” (“aliens”). This term remained in legislation until the beginning of the 20th century and signified more than a simple classification: in practice, Indigenous peoples were assigned a separate legal status, distinct from that of “russian subjects.” The Statute divided Indigenous peoples into three categories: settled  — those living in villages and towns; nomadic  — those moving across territories according to the seasons; wandering  — hunting groups, often far from permanent settlements. This division was закрепed at the legislative level and determined which rules and obligations applied to each people—from land rights to duties toward the state. However, peoples in all categories were still required to pay yasak or a monetary tribute to the empire. The tax burden and obligations were determined by the state rather than by the communities themselves. Land was assigned to communities for use, but it was not recognized as private or collective property. The classification into categories was used primarily to politically manage people not as equals, but as different groups accountable to the empire. It is important to understand that the Indigenous peoples of the Far East were incorporated into the state system not as equal participants, but as supervised subjects. One of the main goals of this tiered system was to move wandering and nomadic inhabitants into the category of settled peoples. The reason lay in the financial interests of the empire—settled “inorodtsy” would be required to pay the higher tax rate imposed on state peasants. All self-governing bodies were subordinated to district russian authorities, and their decisions were subject to oversight by state officials. Self-governance existed only within the framework of the imperial hierarchy. As a result, Indigenous communities received not so much freedom as a limited, controlled structure of authority designed to administer the peoples, while self-government remained largely nominal. The document even contained a clause stating that the “rights and duties of the inorodtsy must be communicated to them ‘properly’” and translated into their languages where possible. In practice, however, such translations were extremely rare or were not carried out at all due to the lack of written languages, specialists, and official interest. As a result, Indigenous peoples in most cases were unable to fully exercise their legal rights. Although the Statute of 1822 formally introduced a legal framework and even allowed elements of self-government, in reality it became an instrument for regulating and controlling Indigenous peoples by imperial authorities. It defined them as a distinct category of people, separate from the main population of russia, and subordinated their economic, legal, and social rights to the will of the imperial bureaucracy. In the second half of the 19th century, and especially after the signing of the Treaties of Aigun (1858) and Beijing (1860), the active colonization of the Amur and Primorye regions began. The state was interested in settling these territories with migrants from the European part of the empire and actively granted them land allotments. At the same time, the traditional territories of Indigenous peoples were not legally recognized as their property and continued to belong to the state. Their right to land was considered “use,” not ownership. This later became the foundation for future land conflicts. [5] Throughout the entire history of the colonization of the peoples of the Far East, a number of measures were gradually introduced in various regions: mandatory registration; the assignment of people to specific clan administrations; bans on moving independently to other districts without permission. In this way, the state gradually brought nomadic and hunting societies into a system of administrative control. Under the cover of missionary activity, tsarist russia exerted pressure on traditional institutions. The state religion displaced the traditional beliefs of the peoples, and in some places missionary work was accompanied by coercion. By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, tsarist russia had intensified its course toward unification. For the Indigenous peoples of the Far East, the autonomy of their clan administrations was reduced, integration into the all-russian administrative system increased, and legal distinctions were gradually erased—yet without granting genuine equality. Thus, the special status initially introduced for Indigenous peoples as a form of control was later rolled back toward full assimilation. In tsarist russia there may not have been numerous separate “repressive manifestos,” but an official and consistent policy was carried out. Indigenous peoples found themselves in tax dependency, the lands of their ancestors no longer belonged to them, their centuries-old systems of self-governance were strictly regulated and controlled, the cultures of these peoples were pushed aside and gradually forgotten, and the people themselves were forced to assimilate. Unfulfilled Promises of Soviet Power The new soviet government proclaimed the principles of friendship among peoples and equality, promising support for Indigenous communities and recognition of their cultural rights. However, these promises were ultimately not fulfilled. After the revolution of 1917, the authorities of red russia declared a complete break with the “colonial policy of tsarism.” Official rhetoric proclaimed the right of peoples to self-determination, equality, and the development of national cultures. For the Indigenous peoples of the Far East, this sounded like a historic opportunity. [6] The 1920s: Korenizatsiya and National Districts In the 1920s, the new state did indeed take steps that appeared to support Indigenous peoples and signal a change in policy toward them. In the regions of the Far East, national districts and village councils were created (for example, for the Nanai, Udege, Nivkh, Evenki, and others). Writing systems were developed for languages that had previously lacked alphabets, and schools were opened where instruction was conducted in native languages. The state promoted the policy of korenizatsiya —the advancement of representatives of local peoples into positions of authority. Formally, this meant recognition of cultural distinctiveness. The state demonstrated that it was building a “union of equal peoples.” However, even during this period all autonomy remained strictly embedded within the party hierarchy. National governing bodies did not possess real independence. The 1930s: Collectivization and the Destruction of the Traditional Way of Life The turning point came in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Collectivization struck at the very foundation of the traditional economy of the Indigenous peoples of the Far East. All hunting and reindeer-herding households were consolidated into collective farms, private reindeer herds were confiscated from families in favor of the state, and procurement quotas were introduced that ignored ecological cycles. For peoples whose livelihoods depended on hunting and traditional harvesting, this meant the destruction of a survival system that had been formed over centuries—one that could not function according to a “plan” written in offices in moscow. Many clan leaders were repressed as “kulaks” or “enemies of the people,” and governance passed into the hands of appointed party cadres. [7] One of the most painful instruments of discrimination and colonization was the system of boarding schools. Children from Indigenous families were taken en masse from their homes and sent to study in settlement and district centers, where education was conducted primarily in russian. Traditional knowledge and native languages were forcibly displaced, and contact with families was restricted. Children could go years without seeing their relatives. This created a generational rupture: children returned to their communities with poor command of their native language and little knowledge of their traditional way of life. Formally, this was called the “elimination of illiteracy.” In reality, it was a continuation of colonial policy and a form of forced assimilation. Nivkh Children Sent to a Boarding School, Second Half of the 20th Century Industrialization and Resource Exploitation From the 1930s onward, the Far East became an important raw-material base. Many resources had historically been extracted in the region, but red russia was able to begin squeezing them out in enormous quantities thanks to the system of forced labor created by the authorities. The extraction of gold, tin, uranium, coal, and gas, as well as logging, all expanded through the use of the gulag camp system. Resources taken from far eastern land were sent both for export and to serve the needs of the “freest country in the world.” Decisions about the development of these territories were made in moscow, where the opinions not only of Indigenous peoples but of other residents of the Far East were not taken into account at all. [8] The industrial exploitation of far eastern territories led to the pollution of rivers, the decline of fish populations, the destruction of hunting grounds, and, overall, the degradation of the region’s ecosystem. As in tsarist russia, Indigenous peoples received virtually no share of the profits extracted from their lands. The 1950s–1980s: “Friendship of Peoples” and Hidden Unification After the Second World War, the rhetoric of the moscow authorities softened somewhat. Once again there was talk of equality, brotherhood, and cultural diversity, but in practice this remained largely rhetorical. The russification of education continued, many minority languages approached the brink of extinction, local youth were encouraged to move to cities, and traditional forms of livelihood were publicly labeled as “backward.” Having no role in industrialization either as a source of labor or as suppliers of food, the settlements and camps of Indigenous peoples became economically useless for the soviet authorities. Ministries responsible for economic development were not accountable to local administrations, while local administrations—entirely dependent on fulfilling production plans—did not respond to the demands of the Indigenous population. As a result, in 1957 the Party’s Central Committee and the Council of Ministers issued a joint decree requiring all enterprises to involve Indigenous peoples in the implementation of major industrial and agricultural projects—largely through a system of hiring and promotion privileges, but also through the intensification of traditional reindeer herding, hunting, and fishing. On paper, autonomous districts and national regions remained in place. In reality, however, economic and political power belonged entirely to the union center. [9] The Outcome of the Soviet Period At the beginning of its formation, the soviet system recognized the existence of Indigenous peoples, partially supported their cultures, and provided institutional forms for their development. But it later revealed itself as yet another empire: it eliminated the economic independence of these peoples, destroyed their traditional social structures, created dependence on state subsidies, accelerated the linguistic and cultural assimilation of the local population, and ultimately entrenched a resource-extraction model for the region’s development. If in the russian empire control had been exercised through yasak and administrative regulation, then in the ussr it was carried out through the planned economy, collectivization, and ideology. By the end of the soviet period, many communities had become demographically weakened, economically dependent, and culturally vulnerable. Collectivization Commissions in the Far East From the Federalism of the 1990s to Mobilization With the collapse of red russia and the formation of the russian federation, Indigenous peoples of the Far East briefly encountered new opportunities. In the 1990s, the rights of Indigenous peoples to land and traditional livelihoods were formally recognized in the constitution of the russia and in various regional laws. National districts, community councils, and cultural centers were established. Some languages gained the opportunity to be taught in schools, and small media outlets in native languages were opened. Indigenous peoples also gained the possibility to advocate for their rights, with organizations emerging to protect their interests—including the right to traditional hunting and fishing and the environmental protection of their territories. Between 1990 and 1991, several public associations representing the interests of Indigenous small-numbered peoples of the North were founded. Among them were the Association of Small-Numbered Peoples of the North (1990), the Parliamentary Assembly of Small-Numbered Peoples of the North, Siberia, and the Far East (1991), and the International League of Small-Numbered Peoples and Ethnic Groups (1991). However, by the 2000s, there was a rollback toward centralized policy. Laws on traditional livelihoods remained largely declarative, while real rights became heavily restricted by licensing, tenders, and administrative barriers. Autonomous districts were merged with krais, reflecting a general trend toward centralization. The federal law adopted by the State Duma in 2000, On the General Principles for the Organization of Communities of Small-Numbered Indigenous Peoples of the North, Siberia, and the Far East of the Russian Federation , marked an important stage in the institutionalization of Indigenous life. At the same time, it strengthened state regulation of their traditional forms of self-organization. Whereas in the 1990s many clan and territorial associations had existed as flexible forms of community self-organization based on customary law and traditional practices, the new law effectively transformed them into legally registered non-profit organizations. Communities were required to undergo state registration, adopt a charter, and operate within strictly defined legal purposes. As a result, traditional communities were integrated into the bureaucratic system of state governance, limiting their autonomy and sharply narrowing the space for independently managing traditional livelihoods, using natural resources, and exercising internal self-government. Many researchers note that this legal model represented a shift from the relatively free self-organization of Indigenous peoples in the 1990s to a more tightly regulated system in the early 2000s, in which the state acquired additional instruments of control over social and economic processes in their environment. [10] Large industrial companies owned by moscow authorities received priority in resource development, depriving Indigenous communities of access to hunting and fishing grounds. All power and financial flows were concentrated in moscow, leaving the Far East dependent and economically subsidized. At the same time, russification and control over education intensified—schools and clubs in native languages were gradually closed. Recent Years: Mobilization and Pressure on Activists Since the start of russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the situation of Indigenous peoples has deteriorated particularly sharply. Mobilization has played a major role in this. According to data from the Ukrainian Foreign Intelligence Service, as well as independent analysts and human rights observers, Indigenous men are drafted into the army nearly three times more often than ethnic russians—95 mobilized per 10,000 non-russian population compared to 34 per 10,000 russians. Activists report that members of these peoples have been disproportionately involved in combat operations—although laws theoretically provide for alternative service, in practice such guarantees are not upheld under conditions of mobilization. Moreover, our movement has documented cases in which the russian army command forged signatures for conscripts from Indigenous communities and sent them to the front, where many subsequently died. [12] Unfortunately, Indigenous individuals often go to enlistment offices themselves. The lack of stable employment in national settlements, low income levels, and limited awareness of their own rights, combined with decades of ideological integration into the russian state narrative, create conditions in which military service is perceived by some residents as the only available social opportunity—a way to earn a living, gain status, or demonstrate loyalty to the state to which their identity was artificially tied through long-term assimilation policies. In this sense, the war becomes less a conscious political choice than a consequence of structural processes of russification and socio-economic vulnerability shaped by the state over decades. [13] In the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia), the largest region of Siberia and the Far East with a high percentage of Indigenous population, mobilization is carried out without regard for Indigenous rights and without observing legal exemptions, even though russian legislation provides protections for traditional economic roles (for example, reindeer herding). In practice, mobilization has taken place in remote rural settlements without consideration for the small size of local communities and without respect for their rights. [14] Far Eastern Cemeteries After the Outbreak of the War in Ukraine Under the rule of the occupiers in the russia, restrictions on economic and cultural activities have been strengthened and additional limitations introduced. Traditional livelihoods, crafts, and educational initiatives increasingly face bureaucratic obstacles. Currently, according to expert assessments, russian legislation provides no real mechanism for obtaining genuine consent from Indigenous communities for any projects or decisions affecting their lands and resources. [15] For example, in recent years in Khabarovsk Krai, gold production has been growing at record rates, with new mines and processing facilities being launched, and the region increasingly turned into a federal-level resource base. Gold is extracted using industrial open-pit methods, which inevitably leads to deforestation, changes in river courses, and water pollution. Decisions regarding licenses and the development of deposits are made at the federal level, while mechanisms for genuine consent from local communities are purely formal. As a result, the natural territories on which hunting, fishing, and the traditional way of life of Indigenous peoples depend are absorbed into large-scale resource projects that primarily benefit the center, while the environmental consequences remain in the region. [16] Over the past decades, the legal space for Indigenous peoples has eroded: some autonomous territories have been abolished, and key institutions no longer effectively protect their interests. In practice, Indigenous communities continuously lose access to traditional resources and lands under pressure from large industrial projects, infrastructure development, and the centralization of authority in moscow. International mechanisms, such as the principle of Free, Prior and Informed Consent (FPIC), recognized by the international community, have not been implemented into the russian legal system. Furthermore, the russia has not even ratified ILO Convention No. 169 on the rights of Indigenous peoples. Man and Woman in Traditional Orochi Attire, Present Day Cultural Assimilation and Russification Official census data in contemporary russia show that the populations of most Indigenous peoples continue to decline. According to activists’ estimates, as well as the 2021 census, the populations of many small Indigenous groups have decreased, with around two-thirds of such peoples losing population since the 2010 census. Processes of depopulation, assimilation, and cultural loss are intensifying. [17] This trend is reflected not only in demographics but also in language: many native languages are on the verge of extinction, and the number of speakers sharply decreases with each generation. Repression of Activists Human rights organizations and international observers report increasing repression against activists from Indigenous communities who oppose violations of their rights. These actions include arrests and pressure from law enforcement agencies, turning attempts to defend community interests into a risky endeavor. Persecution affects activists across the country. The most well-known and documented case is the arrest of Darya Egereva, a member of the Selkup people and an Indigenous rights activist, who for several years engaged in international work, including participating in UN forums. She was detained on December 17, 2025, and charged with participation in a “terrorist organization.” She faces up to 20 years in prison and remains in custody despite international calls for her release. [18] On the same day—December 17, 2025— russian federation law enforcement carried out a coordinated operation targeting Indigenous activists, including searches and arrests. For example, Valentina Sovkina, an activist from the Saami community listed as an Indigenous representative and participant in international forums and events, was subjected to a search. According to international organizations, at least 17 activists were detained across various regions that day, including areas bordering the Far East and Siberia, all connected to Indigenous rights issues. Among them were representatives from the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia), Tyumen, Komi, and other regions. While not all remained in custody, many faced criminal charges and pressure from security forces. Beyond direct arrests, the state has declared a number of organizations associated with Indigenous peoples or defending their rights as extremist or terrorist, including the Aborigen Forum—the organization in which Egereva participated—which was officially closed under the pretext of “extremism.” [19] Repression has also affected our organization. The russian authorities recognized the movement Zelenyi Klyn — Moya Batkivshchyna  (“Green Wedge — My Homeland”) as a “terrorist” organization. The head of the movement, Vladimir Dubovsky, was declared a “terrorist” and placed on the federal wanted list. The author of this article and head of the movement’s press service, Alina Savelyeva, is also wanted. One of the active members of the movement, Natalia Romanenko, is currently in pre-trial detention with her husband. Thus, by the 2020s, the historical trajectory of “control and assimilation” continues: whereas the tsarist and soviet empires once undermined traditional institutions through taxes, collective farms, and industrialization, today the state uses legislation, licenses, economic dependence, and military mobilization to consolidate centralized control over the Far East. The Future of Indigenous Peoples of the Far East In an independent Far East, founded on principles of justice and respect for Indigenous peoples, the following measures could be implemented: Genuine self-governance for Indigenous communities, including the right to free and informed consent for any projects on their lands; Guarantees for the preservation of traditional languages and educational programs rooted in native cultures; Legal protection of lands and resources essential for traditional economies; Social programs aimed at restoring and supporting Indigenous societies, rather than assimilating or exploiting them. Such a policy would not only preserve the unique cultures and identities of the Indigenous peoples of the Far East, but also ensure sustainable regional development based on equality and respect. The history of Indigenous peoples in the Far East is not a story of “integration into civilization,” as official rhetoric presented it for decades. It is a history of the gradual restriction of autonomy, resource expropriation, the destruction of traditional ways of life, and the displacement of languages. For centuries, the fate of the Indigenous peoples of the Far East was determined by decisions made far from their lands—first in st. petersburg, then in moscow. The empire imposed yasak and administrative control; the soviet state carried out collectivization, boarding schools, and industrial projects; and the russian federation continues to extract resources from Far Eastern lands and waters while sending local residents to war. Political slogans and state names changed, but the underlying model remained the same: the center makes decisions, and the Far Eastern territories and their peoples are expected only to obey. Today, with thousands of Far Eastern residents sent to the frontlines in the war in Ukraine, this historical pattern has become especially evident. People whose ancestors lived for centuries along the Amur, the Sea of Okhotsk, and the Pacific Ocean are once again instruments of foreign politics and geopolitical ambitions. Yet history is not destiny. The question of the Far East’s future is whether the region can finally break free from the colonial logic of its relationship with the center. In an independent and free Far East, Indigenous peoples could gain real mechanisms of self-governance, protection of traditional territories, and the right to determine the future of their lands, cultures, and natural resources independently. Only then would the history of the region cease to be a story of exploitation and become a story of development, cooperation, and respect for the peoples who have lived here long before imperial borders were drawn. Author: Alina Savelyeva References: Moskvitin, Ivan Yuryevich (c. 1600–after 1647) – Russian explorer, ataman of foot Cossacks; “Inorodtsy” – Wikipedia; Yasak Policy of the Tsarist Administration During the Russian Expansion into the Amur Region in the 17th Century; Charter on the Administration of Inorodtsy, 1822. Complete Collection of Laws of the Russian Empire. Collection 1. St. Petersburg, 1830. Vol. 38. No. 29126; “200 Years of the Charter on the Administration of Inorodtsy”: Documents of the National Archive of Khakassia on the Historical Event; The Position of the Indigenous Small-Numbered Peoples of the Far East of the RSFSR in State Policy (1922–1941); Stalin’s Collectivization: Far Eastern Peasantry in the First Half of the 1930s; “DalLag” – Wikipedia; Arctic Mirrors of Russia and the Small Peoples of the North, Yury Slezkin, 1994; Federal Law of the Russian Federation “On the General Principles of Organization of Communities of the Indigenous Small-Numbered Peoples of the North, Siberia and the Far East of the Russian Federation” (No. 104-FZ), July 6, 2000; Foreign Intelligence Service of Ukraine – The Kremlin Intensifies Repressions Against Indigenous Peoples, Using the Rhetoric of a “Multinational State”; In Ukraine, a Conscription Nivkh Man Died, a Contract Signed by His Commander; How and Why the Indigenous Small-Numbered Peoples of the Russian Far East Are Losing Their Men to War; How Russia’s Diamond Republic Finds Manpower for Putin’s Army The Indigenous World 2025: Russia Khabarovsk Krai Expects a 15.3% Increase in Gold Production; Peoples on the Verge of Extinction. While Russia “Denazifies” Ukraine, Its Own Indigenous Peoples Are Dying Out; In Moscow, Indigenous Rights Defender Darya Egereva Was Arrested; Saami Activist Valentina Sovkina Had to Leave Russia After Mass Searches of Indigenous Representatives.

«Foreign pressure on our people will not eradicate the truth that we are a distinct and independent nation.»  — From the Declaration of Independence of the Ukrainian Far Eastern Republic At the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, the Far East, then controlled by the russian empire, became home to hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian settlers from Poltava, Chernihiv, and Kyiv regions. The appearance of Ukrainians in the Far East was not accidental: as early as the 17th century, Cossacks, during campaigns along the Amur, established the first settlements. But it was at the end of the 19th century, following Stolypin’s reforms and the active colonization of the eastern territories of the russian empire, that mass Ukrainian migration began — a migration that would permanently transform the face of this region. Boarding of migrants on the steamer “Kherson” at the Port of Odessa before being sent to the Zelenyi Klyn. Photo from a 1903 publication As a result, the lands settled by the migrants became known as the Zelenyi Klyn (Green Ukraine). By the beginning of the 20th century, Ukrainians were establishing schools, cultural societies, cooperatives, monuments, and engaging in book printing as well as the publication of newspapers and journals. After the 1917 revolution, the Ukrainians of the Zelenyi Klyn submitted a demand for autonomy to the Provisional Government, and some even began planning full independence. During the Civil War in the Far East, the Ukrainians of the Zelenyi Klyn did not remain passive observers. From 1918 to 1920, with the support of the Ukrainian Far Eastern National Council, an attempt was made to create the independent Ukrainian Far Eastern Republic (UFDR). Its leaders proclaimed the protection of Ukrainian culture, language, and the right to self-determination as their primary goal. Among the proposed symbols of the republic were a coat of arms with the trident and a blue-and-yellow flag with a green triangle. The main slogans of the movement became: — «Freedom to the Zelenyi Klyn!» — «Ukrainian land for the Ukrainian people!» — «Liberty, justice, and brotherhood!» Delegates of the 3rd Ukrainian Far Eastern Congress. Khabarovsk, April 7–12, 1918. At the center sits the chairman of the congress, Yuriy Hlushko-Mova Attempts to establish independence faced military intervention by the Bolsheviks and internal betrayals, but the memory of the republic remained as a symbol of the struggle for freedom. Thanks to the soviet authorities and modern russia, this period was erased from official sources, yet it is important to remember that besides the Reds and the Whites, there was a third force in the Civil War in the Far East — the Ukrainian Far Eastern Republic. Ukrainians established local regional authorities, held elections, and drafted and adopted a Declaration of Independence. From the Declaration of Independence of the Ukrainian Far Eastern Republic (1918): «We, the representatives of the Ukrainian people of the Zelenyi Klyn, affirm our right to self-determination, to our own authority, and to the protection of language, culture, and traditions on our land.» By 1920, over 11,000 passports of the citizens of the Ukrainian Far Eastern Republic had been printed, some of which are now preserved in the FSB archives of the Far Eastern regions. However, the forces were unequal, and the supporters of red russia emerged victorious — sometimes through deception and bribery, sometimes through violence, committing acts of genocide, as in Nikolaevsk-on-Amur. Unsurprisingly, after the Bolsheviks came to power, the aspirations of Far Eastern Ukrainians were deemed hostile to the soviet regime. The culmination of these repressions was the Chita Trial of 1924–1925. It is this trial that I will focus on in today’s article. Ukrainians of the Zelenyi Klyn in the Chita Trial The trial took place in the city of Chita from September 1924 to April 1925. A total of 122 people stood before the court: former White officers, Cossacks, but most importantly — representatives of the Ukrainian intelligentsia, supporters of the movement for the independence of the Zelenyi Klyn. The presiding judge was Aleksei Hryhorovych Serebryakov. The trial was public: the authorities sought to intimidate the population and demonstrate their resolve in the fight against «counter-revolution.» Photo from one of the sessions; in the front row at the center sits White general Anatoliy Pepelyaev Special attention during the trial was given to Ukrainian figures:They were accused of preparing an uprising, «separatism,» and «collaboration with foreign powers.» During the trial, the soviet authorities branded the following Ukrainian organizations: Newspapers: «Zelenyi Klyn» (Blagoveshchensk) «Ukrainskyi Holos» (Nikolsk-Ussuriysky) «Nash Krai» (Khabarovsk) Organizations: Ukrainian Far Eastern National Council (Khabarovsk) Ukrainian Youth Association «Promin» (Vladivostok) Cooperative «Ukrainska Khata» Blagoveshchensk Cultural Committee of Ukrainians Society of Ukrainians of the Amur (Svobodny) Their activities were declared a cover for «counter-revolutionary work.» Yuriy Hlushko-Mova, Chairman of the Far Eastern Ukrainian Secretariat One of the central figures of the trial was Yuriy Hlushko-Mova — a well-known Ukrainian writer, publicist, and political activist. He stood at the origins of the Ukrainian Far Eastern National Council, organized schools and clubs, and published Ukrainian newspapers in the Far East. At the Chita Trial, he was accused of: — organizing the Ukrainian underground, — seeking to create an independent state of the Zelenyi Klyn, — maintaining contacts with Japan. From the prosecutor’s speech at the trial: «Hlushko-Mova sought to establish an anti-soviet stronghold in the Far East.» During the trial, Yuriy Hlushko-Mova stated: «All my crime before you is that I wanted every Ukrainian here, in the Far East, to have the right to be Ukrainian — to speak in their mother tongue, sing the songs of their fathers, read the books of our writers.» «A government that fears the truth is forced to fear those who speak in their native language.»  Regarding all accusations of espionage in favor of Japan, Hlushko responded: «I was not a spy for Japan. My only dream is that my people live freely and proudly under the sky of the Zelenyi Klyn.» Judge Matveyev asked: «You were imprisoned and brought to trial?» «I was imprisoned under Kolchak and sentenced to death for fighting to organize a Ukrainian kuren, to prevent the russification of Ukrainians and their use in fratricidal warfare.» Hlushko-Mova was sentenced to 15 years in labor camps, with a lifelong ban on residing in the Far Eastern Krai and the territory of the Ukrainian SSR. One of the copies of the Constitution of the National-Cultural Autonomy of Ukrainians in the Far East The atmosphere at the trial was oppressive. Despite the pressure, the defendants often refused to admit guilt in «counter-revolutionary activities,» emphasizing that their goal was not to fight the authorities but to defend the right of Ukrainians to their culture, language, and identity. The prosecutor’s speeches were filled with accusations of «espionage for Japan,» «nationalist propaganda,» and «organizing an armed conspiracy,» yet many of the charges were based on denunciations and assumptions. In their final statements, many defendants addressed not the judges, but their own people, as if knowing that their true court and verdict lay there. Yuriy Hlushko-Mova (in his final statement): «I do not ask for mercy. My only wish is that my people do not forget what we fought for. We are not criminals, we are fighters for truth and freedom!» Ivan Kovalenko (during interrogation): «Faith in the Ukrainian cause is more important to me than life. If loving my native land is a crime — then yes, I am guilty.» Petro Skurativskyi (at the trial): «They took our schools, our songs, our prayers, our land. We only wanted to bring our people back to themselves.»  Fedir Lytvyn (in the session records): «I wanted my children to know what it means to be Ukrainian — even here, in the Far East.» Olena Chaikivska (before giving her final statement): «They throw me into the Siberian forests, but I believe: our songs and our words will live even there.» Sentenced to Execution Seven people at the Chita Trial were sentenced to execution. Among them was Ivan Kovalenko , organizer of Ukrainian clubs in Blagoveshchensk and an active advocate for Ukrainian autonomy in the Far East. Alongside him was Petro Skurativskyi , leader of Ukrainian youth circles in Nikolsk-Ussuriysky, known as a talented publicist and orator. Also receiving the death sentence were: Kostiantyn Marchenko , an officer of the Ukrainian People’s Army accused of espionage for Japan; Fedir Lytvyn , a teacher at a Ukrainian school and initiator of illegal cultural gatherings; Stepan Levchenko , a cooperative member who assisted in supplying underground organizations; Andriy Tkachuk , secretary of one of the cultural organizations, accused of connections with Japanese intelligence; Mykhailo Shvets , a former Cossack ataman who sympathized with the Ukrainian movement and provided weapons to underground activists. Until the very last moment, all of them defended their actions, emphasizing that their struggle was not against the people but for the right of Ukrainians to be themselves — to be Ukrainian. Sentenced to 10–15 Years in Labor Camps Twenty-eight people received long sentences in strict-regime labor camps. Among them was Yuriy Hlushko-Mova , leader of the «Ukrainian Far Eastern National Council,» engineer, theater actor, writer, and one of the main ideologists of the Ukrainian movement in the Far East. He was sentenced to 15 years of hard labor. Similar sentences were given to: Mykyta Lytvynenko , publisher of the newspaper «Zelenyi Klyn,» accused of anti-soviet propaganda; Sava Palamarchuk , a veteran of the Ukrainian People’s Army; Oleksiy Kramarenko , organizer of Ukrainian folk reading rooms in Khabarovsk; Dmytro Lashchenko , who served as a liaison with Japanese consuls; Ivan Nahornyi , a physician; Anna Polytkovska , journalist and publisher; Anton Hanzha , writer and publicist. These people became victims not only of political suspicion but also of the broader soviet policy aimed at destroying the Ukrainian national movement in the Far Eastern region. Sentenced to 5–10 Years in Labor Camps Fifty-one people were sentenced to terms of five to ten years. These were mostly ordinary people — peasants, teachers, cooperators, and craftsmen who were actively involved in the life of Ukrainian organizations. Among them stood out: Fedir Kutsenko , librarian at a Ukrainian folk school (sentenced to eight years in labor camps); Stepan Zubko , a peasant and member of the Ukrainian community in Nikolsk-Ussuriysky (seven years in camps); Mykola Kharchenko , organizer of Sunday schools for Ukrainian children (six years imprisonment); Hryhoriy Onyshchenko , craftsman and activist of the Ukrainian cooperative movement (five years in camps). Most of them were accused of «assisting counter-revolutionary agitation» and «espionage for Japan,» although the actual evidence against them was often extremely dubious. Exiled and Banned from Residing in Cities All defendants received long sentences, and even those who received less severe but still destructive punishments were subjected to exile and banned from living both in the Far Eastern Krai and in the Ukrainian SSR. They were sent to remote regions of Siberia and forbidden to reside in major cities for periods of three to five years. Among the exiled were: Olena Chaikivska , a teacher of Ukrainian language and literature, prohibited from living in Primorye; Vasyl Bondarenko , a typesetter, exiled to the Narym region; Maria Lytvynenko , activist of Ukrainian cultural courses, sent to exile in the Turukhansky region; Ivan Ryabenko , a musician, deprived of the right to live in the cities of the Far Eastern Krai and forced to live in remote villages. For many of them, exile meant the effective destruction of their previous lives: they lost their homeland, profession, and social standing. The Chita Trial became a symbol of the tragedy of the Ukrainian movement in the Far East Under the blows of repression, leaders perished, cultural initiatives disappeared, Ukrainian newspapers and schools fell silent. Yet, despite years of memory erasure, the memory of those who fought for the freedom of Zelenyi Klyn remains alive today in the hearts of Far Eastern Ukrainians — a reminder of the price our ancestors were willing to pay for their national identity. I would like to conclude with a quote from Yuriy Kosmych Hlushko-Mova during one of the trial sessions: «Your strength is in the bayonets. Our strength is in the word. And this word will not perish.» Author: Volodymyr Dubovskyi

Once, our ancestors — Ukrainians driven by poverty, famine, and the yoke of the tsar — moved to the lands of the Zelenyi Klyn (Green Ukraine) with the hope of a free life. Here they built villages, sowed grain, passed on their language, faith, and songs to their children. It was a hope that somewhere, in a land between taiga and hills, they could preserve what had been taken from them back home — freedom, land, the Ukrainian soul. But decades of Soviet rule, and later the Putinist empire, did their work: the free Ukrainians were turned into mankurts . From people who once kept carols and ancestral legends alive, they became faceless «russians», their memory erased to the core. The process was not swift, but it was thorough — carried out through schools, the army, party meetings, television, and, finally, war. Mankurt  — is a person cut off completely from their roots, language, and memory. Without kin, without history, without conscience. « Mankurt is not just someone who has forgotten who he is. It is a person whom the system has turned into a weapon against his own people » , — Chingiz Aitmatov Today we can see it clearly: the descendants of Ukrainians living in the Far East have not only renounced their origins, but have become active participants in the destruction of Ukraine. They are not merely silent bystanders — they have turned into soldiers and propagandists of the very empire that has, throughout history, sought to erase the very notion of Ukrainianness. The Mankurt Governor: Oleg Kozhemyako The surname Kozhemyako  is distinctly Ukrainian, common in the Chernihiv region and Polissia. He himself was born in the village of Chernihivka in Primorsky Krai — one of those Ukrainian settlements where the native Ukrainian language once resounded and the memory of freedom was preserved. It was a land where the Cossack tradition met the harsh nature of the Far East. Yet, over time, all that remained of this memory were surnames. «Post-Soviet elites are often the descendants of those who were once assimilated and then became the agents of a new colonialism», — Yaroslav Hrytsak Today, Kozhemyako serves as the governor of Primorsky Krai, actively engaged in mobilization, the dispatch of «humanitarian aid» to the occupiers, and propaganda for the so-called «special operation». In 2022, he visited Mariupol, effectively taking part in its capture. In 2023, he returned to the occupied city, recording propaganda videos about its «reconstruction» — concealing the fact that Mariupol had been razed to the ground by the russian army. Vera Shcherbina — a Vice-Governor Without Memory The surname Shcherbina  is typical of Ukrainians from Poltava and Cherkasy regions. She was born in the Skovorodino district of Amur Oblast, where a significant part of the population in the 19th–20th centuries were settlers from Ukraine. She worked in the administrations of Primorsky Krai, Kamchatka, and Sakhalin. A bureaucratic career built in service to the system has completely erased any trace of identity. «Mankurtization is one of the empire’s most powerful tools. To turn the colonized into a loyal bureaucrat means to erase collective memory», — Tamara Eidelman During the war, she coordinated the logistics of shipments to the occupied territories. These «humanitarian cargos» came accompanied by medals from occupation authorities, Z insignia, and packages stamped «From Primorye — to the front line». A Ukrainian surname beneath these documents is no longer even ironic. It is a diagnosis. Other Political Figures with Ukrainian Roots Oleg Kozhemyako and Vera Shcherbina are not isolated cases. In the Far East there are numerous officials whose surnames, origins, or biographies point to Ukrainian ancestry. Some of them once openly acknowledged their ethnicity and even emphasized cultural ties with Ukraine. But with the onset of russia’s aggression, they either fell silent or sided with the regime — some quietly, others with rhetoric worthy of a state television broadcast. Their stories illustrate how the system erases memory and displaces identity in the name of obedience and career advancement. «The paradox is that the descendants of those who were repressed and assimilated often become the empire’s mouthpieces», —  Ivan Preobrazhensky Ihor Chemeris — deputy of the Legislative Assembly of Primorsky Krai of the VII convocation, and formerly a vice-governor of Primorsky Krai. The surname «Chemeris» originates from Ukraine, widespread in the Chernihiv, Poltava, and Sumy regions. Chemeris was born in the city of Berdychiv, Zhytomyr Oblast, Ukraine, and later moved to the Far East. Despite his roots, Chemeris actively supports federal policies. Since the beginning of russia’s invasion of Ukraine, he has spoken of the need to «strengthen patriotic spirit,» overseen military events in the region, and visited mobilized soldiers from Primorsky Krai in Kherson Oblast. Yuriy Hryshan — the current mayor of Magadan. The surname «Hryshan» is common among Ukrainians, especially in the Chernihiv and Poltava regions. In the past, Hryshan openly acknowledged his Ukrainian roots and cultural ties with Ukraine. However, after 2022, he fully aligned himself with the Kremlin’s agenda: participating in events supporting the «special operation,» making statements about the «unity of the people» and the need to «support the front». Hryshan’s case exemplifies how even publicly recognized ethnicity can be forsaken in favor of political loyalty. Volodymyr Pechenyi — former mayor of Magadan and governor of Magadan Oblast. Of Ukrainian descent, Pechenyi previously did not hide his roots and even gave interviews in Ukrainian. However, after 2014, and especially following the 2022 invasion, he aligned himself with the Kremlin’s actions, advocating for «unity» and the «fight against external threats». Valeriy Limarenko — governor of Sakhalin Oblast, bears a surname common in the Poltava and Sumy regions. Before the war, he actively cooperated with the military-industrial complex; after 2022, he oversaw Sakhalin’s involvement in sending military equipment and «humanitarian aid» to Donbas. He made statements supporting the «special operation» and referenced the «fight against nazism» in Ukraine. Pavel Storozhuk — acting Minister of Agriculture and Food of Khabarovsk Krai, bears a surname of Ukrainian origin, common in central and southern regions of Ukraine. In the past, he mentioned his family’s rural traditions connected to Ukrainian settlers. During the Soviet era, freed Ukrainians — former prisoners of Stalin’s camps, including members of the OUN-UPA and their supporters — were also sent to the settlement of Provideniya and other areas of Chukotka and Magadan Oblast. After 2022, Pavel Anatolyevich actively engaged in implementing tasks set by the federal center, including food supply under the mobilization economy. He also supported actions in favor of the «special military operation,» demonstrating full loyalty to the official course. All of these people are cogs and gears in a vast, cynical machine where memory is considered a weakness, and renouncing one’s roots is the key to career advancement. For all of them, it is easier to say: «I am not Ukrainian. I am simply a russian official.» Thousands More — Silent, and Often Betraying Thousands of ethnic Ukrainians in the Far East feel that their roots are not russian. Yet most remain silent. Some are afraid. Some are waiting. Some long ago betrayed their own roots. « Empires do not kill with weapons. They kill with oblivion», — Edward Said The price of silence has been lives. Losses of the Russian Armed Forces (data from Mediazona, Gruz 200, Potery.net , and others): Amur Oblast: 285–650 Jewish Autonomous Oblast: 64–210 Khabarovsk Krai: 460–843 Sakhalin Oblast: 232–410 Primorsky Krai: 653–1240 Kamchatka Krai: 154–220 Magadan Oblast: 62–111 These are not just numbers. They are the descendants of those who once sang «Oi u luzi chervona kalyna» on the banks of the Amur, Ussuri, and the Pacific Ocean. Today, they die for a foreign power, for russia. Mankurtism Within the Family: The Author’s Personal Story I am not writing this article with cold, analytical detachment. I am writing it because I witnessed firsthand how the machine of mankurtization works — right within my own family. In 2014, during the first battles for Bakhmut, when this Ukrainian city was captured by Girkin-Strelkov’s forces, my grandmother — an ethnic Ukrainian born in the Far East — called her cousin, who at that time lived in the city under occupation. I heard that conversation. My grandmother tried to convince her cousin that there was Nazism in Ukraine, that everything happening was «American propaganda,» and that they themselves were russian, because they «were born in russia». Part of the conversation, however, was in Ukrainian — their native language since childhood. This is mankurtization — when a person may even speak the language of their ancestors, yet effectively refuses to acknowledge their ancestors’ ethnicity as part of their own identity. A week later, I got a tattoo of a map of Ukraine with the trident — so I would never forget the blood that runs through me. Yes, I made mistakes. I was naive. I followed the wrong people. I trusted the wrong people. But I have not forgotten my great-grandmother’s lullabies. I have not forgotten the stories of my grandfather, deported from Chernihivshchyna. I have not forgotten the sacrifices and the pain that stand behind my surname, behind my family, behind my lineage. I may speak russian most of the time. But I think in Ukrainian. I feel in Ukrainian. I believe as my ancestors believed. And as long as this is alive — I am free. I am Ukrainian. Mankurtization Is a Crime. And a Challenge. Every Ukrainian in the Far East is a descendant of a strong, free people. But without memory, this heritage will disappear. « Memory is an act of resistance. Forgetting is an act of submission», — Timothy Snyder We, Far Eastern Ukrainians, are often, in truth, alone. From russia, we see only contempt and hatred, an attempt to assimilate us or even destroy us. It is painful to admit, but even from some Ukrainians in Ukraine, we sometimes hear rejection — we are called «not Ukrainian», sometimes even «moskali». But no matter how hard, no matter how painful — know that you are not alone . Some remain in the Far East under the «russian world». Some are in prisons. Some are in exile. Our present differs, and often our past as well. But we are Far Eastern Ukrainians. And I believe that together we can build a shared future. A future in which our children can proudly and fearlessly say: « I am Ukrainian! ». A future in which in our villages and cities, the native language will sound again. Where it will not be mocked. Where it will not be punished. But will be respected — as the voice of a living people reclaiming the right to freedom and dignity. Now is our moment. To speak. To write. To remind. And to reclaim the right to be Far Eastern Ukrainians. We exist. We existed. And we will exist.— «Ми — є. Ми були. І будемо.»

«One fool hid her children among the pigs, well, we sent them off together with the piglets for slaughter. We first took this fool with us to the city, but on the way we threw her out because she turned out to be sick...» This is not a quote about crimes committed by russian occupiers in Ukraine today or by German occupiers during World War II. These are the memories of one of the moscow bolsheviks, sent as punitive forces to the Far East, where the descendants of Ukrainian settlers, together with the indigenous autochthonous peoples, tried to create a state independent from russia. Russia and its historians, as the legal successors of the USSR, dryly call this event the « Nikolaevsk Incident ». The same title is used in the russian Wikipedia article. In my article, I want to tell about the horror that unfolded in one of the Far Eastern cities more than 100 years ago. The city of Miykolaivsk-on-Amur (called Miykolaivsk until 1926), named after Saint Nicholas, was the largest port on the Amur River from 1860 to 1920. In 1856, by decree of Alexander II, the Primorsky Region was formed, which included Kamchatka and the lands along the lower Amur. The Miykolaivsky post, which received city status, became the capital of the new region. Here is what the writer Anton Chekhov recalled after visiting this city: «...many kinds of people from russia and foreign adventurers came, settlers were attracted by the extraordinary abundance of fish and fur» However, a few years later, Vladivostok was founded, where the main port was moved, and Miykolaivsk-on-Amur began to gradually decline. But it declined only until the late 1880s, when the city became a center of gold mining, and in just 2–3 years its population increased 5.5 times! Migrants came to the city again, the provincial theater and cabarets gathered audiences again, and local merchants expanded their shops. Gold mining and subsequent economic growth gradually attracted settlers, and by 1897 the population reached 5,668. From 1896–1899, a boom in the fishing industry began in Miykolaivsk-on-Amur. Shipbuilding revived, enterprises for barrel production, lumber processing, and other industries were created. The city became the second most important Far Eastern port after Vladivostok. By 1913, the population of the city reached 14.4 thousand people. There were 2,136 buildings, and a network of trade schools and craft schools was re-established. Soon Miykolaivsk once again became a regional city—this time the center of Sakhalin Region. By the 1917 revolution, the city population reached at least 20 thousand people. Here are, by the way, the census data for the city: 20,203 people, of whom: 13,758 – Malorosses (Ukrainians); 2,621 – Velikorosses (Muscovites); 2,082 – Tungus; 480 – Tatars; 232 – Japanese; 356 – Yakuts (Sakha); 201 – Chinese; 122 – Jews; 62 – Americans; 44 – Koreans; 34 – Germans; 21 – Georgians; 190 – representatives of other ethnicities. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Ukrainian national movement began to rise in the Far East. In 1914, the first Ukrainian organization in Mykolaivsk-on-Amur was established – the « Mykolaivsk Hromada ». The organization opened a small club where theatrical performances were staged and Ukrainian national holidays celebrated. In 1917, the head of the hromada became a local resident, a descendant of Ukrainian settlers from the Chernihiv region of Ukraine, owner of the local bookshop, Andrii Yeremeyev. Yeremeyev was also elected as a delegate and participated in the All-Ukrainian congresses of the Far East that took place afterward, representing the Ukrainians of Mykolaivsk-on-Amur. In the spring of 1918, the local hromada formed self-government bodies, created the first self-defense units and local police. Later, the residents of Mykolaivsk-on-Amur, at meetings, signed an agreement with the government of the Far Eastern Ukrainian Republic and sent it with their representatives to the city of Vladivostok. Elections to the local council were held. In August 1918, local self-defense units did not allow armed units of the White movement into their territory. According to contemporaries, there was a small skirmish after which the White movement troops were refused support, being told that local residents had no intention to participate in the Civil War on the side of the Whites. However, they were allowed to trade, replenish supplies, and, if desired, stay for the winter. In the winter of 1918, troops of the Japanese Imperial Army entered the city, and a garrison of 350 soldiers from the 14th Infantry Division under Major Ishikawa was stationed in Mykolaivsk-on-Amur. At that time, there were also between 200 and 450 Japanese civilians living in the city. The total armed forces in the city at that time were: 500 – Mykolaivsk-on-Amur Hromada self-defense unit under Andrii Yeremeyev. They had no artillery; weapons consisted mostly of melee weapons and hunting carbines. 350 – soldiers of the Japanese Imperial Army under Major Ishikawa. The unit had two small artillery pieces, incendiary rocket launchers, and more modern weapons than the self-defense unit. An agreement was concluded between the Japanese and the local authorities, under which the Japanese military was stationed in the city and obliged to ensure the safety not only of the Japanese population but also of other residents of Mykolaivsk-on-Amur. Photograph of the entry of Japanese forces under the command of Ishikawa into Mykolaivsk-on-Amur Events of January 1920 On January 3, 1920, Mykolaivsk was besieged by a partisan detachment of 3,000 reds under the command of Yakov Tryapitsyn and Timofiy Naumov. The Bolsheviks had 10–15 artillery guns at their disposal, as well as two cavalry units totaling about 300 riders. The partisan detachment mostly consisted of people born in the European part of russia: Ryazan, Moscow, and Nizhny Novgorod provinces. Commanders Yakov Tryapitsyn and Matviy Naumov were also not local to the Far East. Yakov Tryapitsyn:  born in Muromsky district of Vladimir province. Before the revolution, he worked as an assistant machinist on a steamer in Nizhny Novgorod, was a veteran of World War I, reaching the rank of ensign. During the Civil War, he was sent by the bolsheviks to command the Amur front. Matviy Naumov:  Tryapitsyn’s deputy, from the city of Tver, also a committed bolshevik. Immediately after the siege began, a rebellion of bolshevik supporters erupted in the city, but it was quickly suppressed by the Japanese garrison and the forces of the local Zelenyi Klyn militia. The number of participants was small; all were detained and handed over to local authorities. After judicial proceedings, all detainees were released, with no penalties applied other than confiscation of weapons and a two-day arrest. The fighting for the city began on January 21, 1920. In the first days, despite their numerical superiority, the reds were losing and forced to retreat. Later, having gained support from local Chinese residents and using cavalry, they captured the fortress of Chnirrah in the city’s outskirts by January 25. Immediately after taking the fortress, the bolsheviks began an artillery bombardment of the city. Members of Mykolaivsk’s self-defense forces and supporters of the Far Eastern Ukrainian People’s Republic (UDVR) started mobilizing city residents to retake the fortress. However, Major Ishikawa, commander of the Japanese garrison, unexpectedly refused to participate in the assault, citing Japanese neutrality. He explained his decision with a declaration of non-involvement in the Russian Civil War, agreed upon between Japan and the bolshevik government. As a result, after the Japanese capitulated, a ceasefire was signed on February 28, allowing bolshevik units to enter the city. In return, the bolsheviks promised to guarantee the safety of the Japanese population and their property. Following this, Tryapitsyn’s detachment entered Mykolaivsk. Immediately upon entering the city, the bolsheviks, having captured members of the self-defense force, began arresting the wealthiest and most influential citizens of Mykolaivsk according to a pre-prepared list. This included members of the local Ukrainian community as well as individuals who had signed a letter requesting protection from the Japanese garrison. All detainees were imprisoned in the city jail. Some community members managed to avoid punishment and hid in buildings occupied by the Japanese garrison. Despite maintaining neutrality, the Japanese did not allow the bolsheviks onto garrison grounds. Tryapitsyn feared that once the ice on the Amur River melted, the Japanese would send reinforcements from Sakhalin Island. Reports also indicated that in local villages, bolshevik attempts at propaganda and mobilization led by Naumov were failing. Among the locals, there was a prevailing idea of uniting with the remnants of Mykolaivsk’s self-defense, the local Tungus population, and the Japanese garrison to resist the bolsheviks. Because of this, Tryapitsyn and Naumov decided to disarm and capture the Japanese garrison. On March 11, 1920, bolshevik headquarters chief Timofiy Naumov presented an ultimatum to the Japanese demanding partial disarmament. With the support of the Ukrainian community members, the Japanese garrison staged a surprise counterattack. On the night of March 11–12, the Japanese unexpectedly opened fire on Tryapitsyn’s headquarters, launching rockets. A large part of Mykolaivsk was set on fire. In the attack on the bolsheviks, along with the Japanese garrison, most able-bodied men from the local population also participated. Head of the headquarters Naumov was killed, and the secretary Pokrovskiy-Chornyk shot himself, fearing retribution. Tryapitsyn, wounded in both legs, was carried out of the burning headquarters by comrades. The bolsheviks entrenched themselves in a nearby stone building to organize defense. According to bolshevik accounts, in the first moments Tryapitsyn thought all was lost and asked comrades to shoot him. During the first two days, the initiative remained with the local residents and the Japanese garrison. Later, command was taken by the mining regiment commander Ivan Budrin, who arrived from the settlement of Kerbi with a unit formed from mine workers, mostly Great Russians. Residents of nearby villages attempted to support the insurgents, but they were stopped by a well-armed detachment of Chinese partisans who had wintered in the city outskirts and had agreements with the bolsheviks. Eventually, the numerical superiority of the bolsheviks prevailed. In the four days of fighting, the Japanese garrison together with Mykolaivsk’s self-defense forces was completely destroyed. The bolsheviks lost between 300 and 800 men due to surprise and loss of control during the first day of battle. Major Ishikawa, with the remnants of his garrison, hid in the Shimado store, while Mykolaivsk’s self-defense forces under Andriy Yeremeyev sheltered in the community club building. Both buildings were doused with kerosene and set on fire; anyone who tried to escape was shot. Severely wounded Major Ishikawa was personally killed by Ivan Budrin. Yeremeyev and other defenders from Mykolaivsk who took up arms against the bolsheviks also perished. After the fighting ended, the bolsheviks destroyed and burned the Japanese quarter. The destruction was accompanied by murders, especially by criminal and semi-criminal elements, including the so-called « Sakhalins » —former Sakhalin convicts. Around 80 women from the Japanese colony were killed during these events. Photograph of the Japanese Shimado store in Mykolaivsk-on-Amur During the battles on the night of March 13, the bolsheviks slaughtered all the prisoners of the city jail, including supporters of the independent Zelenyi Klyn, as well as other detainees, including bolsheviks who had even misstepped. Among the killed were Archpriest Serapion (Chernykh), former head of the zemstvo administration Kaptsan, and the former governor of Sakhalin, Baron von Bunge. On March 15 at noon, the last group of Mykolaivsk residents capitulated. Most of the Japanese were killed in combat. Almost the entire Japanese colony (834 people) was exterminated by the bolsheviks. Along with women and children, about 1,500 members of the Mykolaivsk community were killed. Their property—movable and immovable—was confiscated and partially looted. During the fighting, a large part of Mykolaivsk was destroyed by fire. 117 captured Japanese soldiers, as well as 11 Japanese women, were placed in prison. Twelve Japanese women married to Chinese men survived because Chinese families hid them. Among foreign nationals, the English manager of one of the city's largest fisheries, John Fried, was arrested and later executed by the bolsheviks on charges of counter-revolutionary activity. After the defeat of the local self-defense forces and the Japanese garrison, the bolsheviks imposed the rules of war communism in Mykolaivsk: cooperatives were nationalized, money was abolished, equalized supplies were introduced, and other measures implemented. They used confiscated property from officials of the former tsarist and local UDR administration, the bourgeoisie and intelligentsia, and the Japanese colony. However, looting and violence by semi-criminal elements, unrestrained by the local militia or VNK, caused outrage even among some bolsheviks. Discontent also spread among local men, former soldiers of the Chnirrah fortress garrison, and some Far Eastern bolsheviks. The dissatisfied were led by Ivan Budrin, commander of the mining regiment. Despite being a party bolshevik, Budrin, a native of the Far East, disagreed with the policy of Tryapitsin and soon led a conspiracy against him. Budrin actively prepared a conspiracy against Tryapitsin, but on April 22, 1920, by order No. 66 of the commander-in-chief of the People’s Revolutionary Army G.Kh . Eyhe, Yakov Tryapitsin was appointed commander of the Okhotsk Front. According to this order, all partisan detachments under him were converted into units of the Far Eastern People’s Revolutionary Army. On April 23, Tryapitsin, having received the majority of votes at the garrison assembly, arrested his opponents, including Budrin. News of the destruction of the military garrison and the massacre of the Japanese colony in Mykolaivsk shocked Japan and became the pretext for the Japanese government to launch a massive invasion of the Far East, attempting to justify its actions to the world community. The night of April 4–5, 1920, became the time of a Japanese attack, supported by part of the Zelenyi Klyn partisans, on bolshevik authorities and military garrisons in Khabarovsk, Vladivostok, Spassk, and other Far Eastern cities. The Japanese captured these cities, isolating Tryapitsin’s Okhotsk Front from the rest of the armed forces of the Far Eastern People’s Revolutionary Republic. In May 1920, the Japanese command, sending troops from Khabarovsk to Mykolaivsk, received support from a detachment of supporters of the Ukrainian Far Eastern Republic led by Mykola Shevchenko, a local resident and son of a priest from Chernihiv province. At the same time, Japanese ships, taking control of Northern Sakhalin, entered the Amur estuary and approached the Chnirrah fortress. On May 22, 1920, realizing the inevitability of an attack from both sides by anti-bolshevik forces and the defenselessness of Mykolaivsk, Tryapitsin began negotiations with the Chinese consul Zhang Wenhuan and Commodore Chen Shiin for joint action against the Japanese. However, the Chinese, despite pressure, refused to participate in the fighting. Having received no instructions from the central staff of the UDR army, the Okhotsk Front command on April 10, 1920, decided to evacuate the population to the village of Kerbi and destroy the town of Mykolaivsk, as well as the Chnirrah fortress, to prevent the Japanese from establishing a military base. Tryapitsin stated: « It will be very demonstrative to foreign states if we burn the city and evacuate the population. » According to the bolsheviks and Russian Wikipedia, the mass evacuation began on May 23 and ended on May 30, 1920. The main part of the Mykolaivsk population and the partisans were transported by steamships to the Kerbi area. However, it remains a mystery how the bolsheviks managed to transport and move at least 15,000 people across the Amur and 250 kilometers of taiga, and why none of the evacuees were ever found after this operation. Questions about the evacuation vanish when one learns what actually happened and how this « evacuation » was carried out. Below are memories of the bolsheviks themselves about the days of the « evacuation, » taken from materials of an investigation later conducted by the Japanese side: «Our headquarters decided to wipe from the face of the earth the human scum that hindered the realization of ideals for which the best minds of humanity had laid down their heads. Technically, this caused a number of difficulties, since gunfire could attract the attention of the Japanese, who might take measures. Other methods of killing were to some extent disliked by headquarters, and it was decided to kill with cold weapons.» «The local girls did not appeal to me, wild, kicked like mares, but the Japanese women were quiet, obedient, calm.» «All the local kulaks! Each had several cows, horses, cellars, and barns bursting with food, and if you came to them and asked for supplies for our detachment, they would immediately lie and say there was nothing.» «Along the road on the snow lay the bodies of killed people. Pools of blood blackened. When I asked who these people were and when they were beaten, Kostin answered angrily: «We started hitting the bastards, and now they are lying here, enough for us, we just started».» A participant of the Mykolaivsk events, a bolshevik named Aussem, when later asked why these senseless executions occurred, replied: «These are trifles. These people are social scum, and there is no reason to ask such questions.» Photographs of those killed in Mykolaivsk-on-Amur. The photos were taken during the exhumation of bodies by Japanese investigators. Here are additional excerpts from the memoirs of participants and witnesses of the horrific events that took place in Mykolaivsk: «The city was gripped by terror. Beatings continued. People were taken out to the Amur River like sheep, placed on barges and dugouts, carried to the middle of the Amur, and there they were stabbed with bayonets, cut with sabers and axes, beaten on the head with fish mallets, and thrown into the water. Women and girls were handed over from prison to the Bolsheviks—for their amusement.» «Tryapitsin said he would leave a desert for the Japanese, without residents and without people. The city froze, seeing that the final hour had come, and there would be no mercy for anyone.» «After finishing with the city, we went to the villages. After burning one village, in the next we found no one; the local peasants had gone somewhere into the taiga to the Tungus, and there was no way to pursue them.» «One fool hid her children among the pigs, well, we took them along with the piglets and disposed of them. We initially brought this fool into the city with us, but threw her out along the way because she turned out to be sick…» And here is an excerpt from the last radio message of the commander of these atrocities, Yakov Tryapitsin, sent to the Bolshevik headquarters:   «Villages along the entire coastline and the lower Amur have been burned. The city and the fortress have been destroyed to the ground, large buildings blown up. On the site of the city and fortress, only smoking ruins remain, and the enemy, coming here, will find only piles of ash and corpses. We are leaving.» On the night of May 31, with the explosion of the last surviving fortress, Chnirrah, this act of intimidation was completed, and Tryapitsin and his bandits retreated into the taiga near the village of Kerbi. At that time, Mykolaivsk had 1,200 households, over 300 stone buildings, and about 20,000 residents. The Bolsheviks burned and blew up everything—literally everything—turning the city’s landscape into an apocalyptic wasteland. The number of residents who failed or were unable to escape the city and became victims of this cynical massacre amounted to at least ten thousand people. Photograph of what remained of the buildings in Mykolaivsk-on-Amur after the Bolsheviks’ « evacuation » of the city Soon, the detachment of Tryapitsyn, pursued through the thickets of the Amur floodplain, would be arrested along with the entire staff by decree of the regional executive committee of the Bolshevik Far Eastern Republic and handed over to the Sakhalin regional police for trial. By a simple vote, Tryapitsyn and his aides were executed. According to eyewitness accounts: «...in the dirty bushes close to human dwellings… on the edge of the poor village of Kerbi, under a burial mound, bound with ropes, shackled with anchor chains, anarchists, maximalists, and communists — Tryapitsyn, Lebedeva, Zhelezin, Otsevilli-Pavlutski, Trubchaninov, Sasov, and Kharkivsky — found their final resting place. Were it not for a tiny simple cross, common on the poor cemeteries of orphaned paupers, erected by an unknown naive pure soul, no one would have thought that here, in a pit for filth, mutilated, bloodied, spat on, and cursed people lay…». Later, after the final incorporation of the Far East into the USSR, the city would receive the suffix On-Amur, and the Soviet authorities would rebuild it, yet it would remain a small town, more like a settlement. The city would never regain its former glory as the largest port on the Amur. In March 2022, one hundred years after the atrocities in Far Eastern Mykolaivsk, the russian army would commit the same brutalities in Kyiv Oblast. What happened a hundred years ago in the Far East and in 2022 resulted in the murder of innocent civilians from the Ukrainian population. But beyond the atrocities themselves, there is another tragedy: in Kyiv Oblast, the atrocities against Ukrainian citizens were also carried out by units from the Far East, including the 64th Separate Motorized Rifle Brigade of the 35th Army of the Eastern Military District, the 155th Separate Marine Brigade of the Pacific Fleet, and the 5th Separate Tank Brigade of the 36th Army of the Eastern Military District. These units, together with other formations of the russian armed forces, effectively conducted ethnic cleansing, just as the Bolsheviks once did in the Far East. All of this is the result of the Bolsheviks’ victory a hundred years ago: they suppressed the movement for the independence of the Ukrainian Far East and erased from memory those who survived the ideals of the Far Eastern Ukrainian Republic.