Andrey Lankov. Koreans of the CIS, or the Extraordinary Adventures of Confucians in Russia. Ending

Koreans of the CIS, or the Extraordinary Adventures of Confucians in Russia. Ending
Andrey Lankov

Publication date: January 11, 2002

The beginning is here .

Around 1988, a short period of “Korean national revival” began, when Korean national associations and groups began to spring up like mushrooms in all the republics of the USSR. From the very beginning, this movement was characterized by an old and, it seems, completely incurable disease of all Korean social movements - factionalism, the consequence of which was constant splits, scandals and bitter rivalries among leaders. The situation was also complicated by the rivalry between the two Koreas (oddly enough, there were also fans of Pyongyang among the Soviet Koreans). However, the legacy of this period was numerous unions and associations, which, despite constant internecine conflicts and scandals, speak on behalf of the Koreans and try to somehow represent their interests in the CIS countries. At first, the unions were headed by those whom the historian and sociologist German Kim aptly called the “scientific nomenklatura intelligentsia” - retired social scientists and historians of the CPSU; but in the mid-1990s they were pushed out of the leadership by representatives of the middle bourgeoisie.

At first, in 1988-1992, the national movement enjoyed enormous popularity: tens of thousands of Koreans rushed to learn their “native language”, and there was talk again about restoring Korean autonomy in the Far East, which, however, was treated without any enthusiasm by the authorities who feared separatism. The “discovery” of South Korea, which occurred around the same time, also contributed to the popularity of the national Korean movement. For the first time, Koreans had an incentive to be seriously proud of their ancestral homeland and associate themselves with it. Very quickly, South Korean culture began to be perceived as “correct” and even “lost primordial,” although it differs in many ways from the culture of the northern provinces, from which the ancestors of most CIS Koreans came. Koreans of the USSR and CIS began to master the “native” Seoul dialect, which their ancestors never spoke, and to learn “traditional” rituals, which were carried out completely differently in the provinces from where the great-grandfathers and great-grandfathers of Russian Koreans once came to Russia. The efforts of Korean pastors (and the passivity of the Orthodox Church) led to the fact that Protestantism of the South Korean model began to turn into the national religion of the CIS Koreans, whose ancestors were either Orthodox or supporters of traditional cults.

However, the spring of perestroika did not last long; it became a prologue to much more formidable events - the collapse of the USSR. After the infamous gatherings in Belovezhskaya Pushcha, “Soviet Koreans” unexpectedly became “Koreans of the CIS”, citizens of numerous states that arose from the ruins of the Soviet Union. The largest number of Koreans ended up in Uzbekistan (approximately 200 thousand), Kazakhstan (100 thousand), Kyrgyzstan (20 thousand) and, of course, Russia (130 thousand).

This is not the view of an ordinary Russian who has nothing to do with Central Asia; all the republics there look the same. In fact, they are very different from each other. The situation in Kazakhstan is much better than in Uzbekistan, and the residents of Tajikistan have every reason to be fiercely jealous of the Uzbeks. However, they also have some common features that directly affect local Korean communities. Firstly, all these republics are poor, although to varying degrees: in Tajikistan a significant part of the people are starving, and Kazakhstan’s standard of living corresponds to the Russian hinterland (which is very good by Central Asian standards). Secondly, ethnocratic regimes have developed in all republics, which have secured privileges for people of indigenous nationality in access to civil service. Even in Kazakhstan, the most stable, prosperous and democratic of all the ex-Soviet republics of Central Asia, in 1994 Kazakhs, making up 45% of the population, occupied 74% of positions in the presidential administration. Moreover, if in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan we are talking about privileges, then in other republics there has been a complete monopolization of the civil service (and large businesses closely related to it) by representatives of the titular nations. At the same time, the official ideology denies the ethnocratic nature of the regime—indicative, for example, is the widespread use of the term “Kazakhstanis,” which by no means only includes ethnic Kazakhs. Thirdly, the continuing growth of Islamic fundamentalism and the bloody civil war in Tajikistan have sowed a feeling of uncertainty about the future among all “Europeans” in the region (and the Koreans, I repeat, are specifically Europeans). These feelings are especially strong in Uzbekistan, where the majority of the region's Koreans live and which is much poorer than both semi-authoritarian Kyrgyzstan and semi-democratic Kazakhstan.

In the new conditions, the Koreans of Central Asia faced a sharp increase in discrimination based on nationality (and the level of this discrimination in different republics is very different). In this respect, they found themselves in the same position as the entire “Russian-speaking population” - and, unlike the Russians, they do not even have the faintest hope of Moscow’s intercession. In general, the career prospects of Koreans have worsened compared to Soviet times, when discrimination against Koreans was weaker and, in addition, concerned very specific areas of activity (the army, the party apparatus, and partly the military-industrial complex). Official Korean unions and associations of Central Asian states in the new conditions are doing their best to avoid confrontation with the authorities and emphasize their loyalty to the new homeland, their newfound - but very ardent! - Uzbek, Kyrgyz and Kazakh patriotism. Pragmatically speaking, this strategy makes perfect sense. At least, there is no real alternative to it - an attempt to defend one’s rights in a more aggressive style would obviously only lead to the opposite result. However, everyone who can votes with their feet. Ethnic discrimination, impoverishment of the region and a general sense of instability led to the fact that around 1990, Koreans began leaving Central Asia. Emigration is restrained only by economic factors - settling in a new place is expensive, and a resident of Uzbekistan receiving $20 a month will hardly be able to buy an apartment in a Russian city.

Some CIS Koreans managed to escape to the West, but most headed to Russia, which turned out to be much more hospitable than Central Asia - despite all the everyday racism. At one time, the idea of ​​“returning to the Far East” was discussed, but did not receive widespread support: modern Koreans, of whom 82% are city dwellers, do not at all strive to revive agricultural settlements in the Far East. Most strongly prefer large cities. As a result, the Korean population of Moscow, which in Soviet times was measured in several thousand, by the end of the 1990s amounted to 15 thousand people. Apparently, this is just the beginning; resettlement to Russia will continue.

An important circumstance should be noted: CIS Koreans practically do not leave for prosperous South Korea. It quickly became clear that no one was waiting for them in Seoul and that it was very difficult for Russian Koreans to adapt to South Korean life. They are hampered by their poor command of the language, their complete ignorance of Chinese characters, which are still used in important texts, and, most importantly, their lack of inclusion in the complex system of clans, communities and student corporations, without which it is impossible to achieve success in South Korea. At best, “repatriates” can count on unskilled, low-paid labor, but even in this area they cannot compete on equal terms with the numerous guest workers from China and South Asian countries. Finally, ex-Soviet Koreans who lived in Korea note with rare unanimity the huge difference in mentality that exists between them and the Koreans of the South. A CIS Korean who is trying to seriously settle down in the homeland of his ancestors faces serious cultural and psychological problems there. A successful mass return could theoretically be facilitated by the corresponding policy of Seoul, but South Korea, unlike Israel or Germany, does not at all seek to gather all its fellow tribesmen on the overpopulated peninsula. On the contrary, in South Korea, authorities have traditionally encouraged emigration rather than immigration. As a result, only some Sakhalin Koreans who retained family ties there and speak the Seoul dialect, and our Korean women who married South Koreans, were able to gain a foothold in South Korea. In general, the number of CIS Koreans who left for Korea for permanent residence is estimated at most at a couple of thousand - that is, fractions of a percent of the total number of Koreans of the former USSR.

On the other hand, perestroika and the victory of capitalism brought many opportunities for Koreans. In Central Asia, Koreans have been and remain the most educated national minority, which, in addition, has considerable capital at its disposal, and sometimes useful connections with wealthy Seoul companies. A significant part of Koreans have succeeded in business and have taken a prominent position in the business elite of the CIS, although in the states of Central Asia the road to big business is closed for them (as for all “Europeans”), which can only be done by entrepreneurs of indigenous nationality, and not all, but only those who are closely connected with the authorities.

The enthusiasm with which Koreans greeted the “era of national revival” a decade and a half ago turned out to be short-lived. Korean youth quickly learned that the Korean language is very difficult and that mastering it does not provide any visible advantages in life. An outflow from cultural centers began, which gradually turned into either business clubs of Korean medium-sized businesses or folklore circles. Enthusiasm subsided, leaving behind, however, numerous structures and, most importantly, a noticeably strengthened sense of national identity. The events of 1988-2001 did not stop linguistic assimilation (it was completely completed), but led to a sharp rise in the national self-awareness of Russian Koreans. Being Russian in language and culture, they feel like Koreans; proud of their ties with the “homeland of their ancestors” - South Korea, they feel like strangers there.

What awaits the CIS Koreans in the more distant future? Complete and final assimilation? Unlikely. In Central Asia, this is hampered by the Russian language and attitude towards Islam, in Russia by a pronounced racial type, which persists even in children from mixed marriages and, partly, surnames, here and there - a sense of national pride that has intensified in recent years. Mass return to the “homeland of our ancestors” (so to speak, the Jewish-German version)? It’s also unlikely: the experience of recent years has shown that “repatriates” take root very poorly in Seoul, and South Korea itself is not Israel or Germany; it does not pursue a policy of gathering all Koreans on the peninsula and is unlikely to pursue it in the future. A complete return to national traditions and the Korean language? This is hard to believe; the Korean language is too difficult to learn and there are too few real advantages for the average Russian or Central Asian Korean to learn it. Rebirth as a new distinct ethnic group? In fact, the “Koreans of the CIS” have long been such a group, but they are unlikely to agree to admit this fact, the cultural pressure of South Korea is too great.

Most likely, the Kims and Tsoi with Russian names, Korean surnames, a passion for gardening, exact sciences and trade - Russian-speaking (or simply Russian) Koreans - will continue to live in Russia and other CIS countries.