The depth of the deadlock? Underlying themes in the Georgian-Abkhaz and Moldovan-Transnistrian Post-Soviet conflicts

ABSTRACT

Despite nearly three diplomatic decades of tracks and negotiations, the Georgian-Abkhaz and Moldovan-Transnistrian conflicts have remained unresolved. While the article identifies that a part of the intransigence of the conflict parties’ positions exists in the effect of different layers of competing narratives that have created static positions, I argue that still more attention needs to be paid to the layers of the competing narratives by addressing two underlying themes: imagined victimhoods and alienated identities. The article thematises subtle and hidden aspects that have accompanied the negotiations but have not been addressed clearly, yet hold the potential for change.

KEYWORDS:

• Narratives
• identity
• victimhood
• South Caucasus
• Eastern Europe

He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past.

George Orwell, 1984

Introduction

The past, the present and future of protracted conflicts and how the narratives are constructed is inseparable and indented, as in the above quote. Thematic narratives help to underline the cultural dimension in an aggregated way to show the underlying power from the past, how they are instrumentalised with the ability to reach into the present and influence the future. How exactly did competing narratives contribute to the hindrance of conflict resolution and how can they support to solve the conflict? This article gives insight into understanding the three decades of failed negotiations in the Georgian-Abkhaz and Moldovan-Transnistrian conflicts. This is evaluated from the perspective of collective imagination, mindset, consciousness, and also perception rather than becoming involved or agonized over individual actors’ temporary and political voices. Anderson (1993) analyzed the construction of nationalism as mental images derived from a community of interest and common discourses, that began with the printing of vernacular languages. In the aftermath of the former Soviet Union the outbreak of the conflicts in general followed a similar pattern, rooted in Soviet era legacies, which refers to the constitutional structure (ethno-federal system, institutional structure) and political culture (ideational source of national identity and official Soviet era narratives). When the consequences of formerly arbitrarily decided borders met reawakened and politicized nationalism, including linguistic aspirations, in former Soviet Republics, this constituted at least one reason for the outbreak of the conflicts in Moldova and Georgia.

State weakness that creates conditions for ethnic mobilization and separation (George, 2009), in which regional leaders press for military hostility or become vulnerable to unilateral state action, has served as one explanation for the outbreak of ethnic violence. Or, when interests and capacities of a group are considered as indivisible territory by other conflict parties, zero-sum ethnic violence can occur (Toft, 2003). Also, whether the motivation is rational choice based or of symbolic nature, the elite seems able to mobilize its people through compelling myths regarding their national or collective identity for their ‘exclusive’ homeland (Kaufman, 2001, p. 27). The literature points to the conditions of limited statehood and the conceptualization of de facto states as a recent phenomenon (see Caspersen, 2018; Palani et al., 2020). The engagement with the literature on de facto states and their survival would miss the purpose of the discussion of this particular angle.

Remembering the present

The following section highlights the military conflict period and when International Organisations (IO)s gained their mandates. This information is based on online material, reports by IOs and secondary literature.

War in Abkhazia (August 1992 – July 1993, and Violence until May 1994)

Abkhazia is a territory bordering the Black Sea with a population of 240,000 (UNPO, 2015). Before the war it was over 500,000; the UNCHR in 1992 showed higher numbers – 350,000 – who were affected by displacement. The war started on 14 August 1992 and continued after a breached ceasefire in early September 1992 (UNOMIG, 2009). With the support of other fighters, such as Russians and North Caucasians, the Abkhaz were able to regain control over Georgian-besieged Sukhum/i. Fighting continued into 1993 and until the war was ended through internationally-led mediation in May 1994. The conflict resulted in 10,000 casualties and more than 200,000 Georgians being expelled from Abkhazia. Hostilities reignited in May 1998 for about one week, which caused further deaths and increased the number of Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) (ibid).

War in Transnistria (March – July 1992)

Transnistria, a strip of land along Moldova’s border with Ukraine, has an estimated population of 510,000 (Freedom House, 2017). The left bank refers to the unrecognized territory of the Pridnestrovian Moldavian Republic (PMR), often referred to as Transnistria; the Organization for Security and Economic Cooperation (OSCE) uses the label Transdniestria for neutrality. The military conflict was short (March-June 1992) and less deadly, with between 500 and 1000 fatalities (CSCE, 1994). In early 1993, the then-CSCE arrived to assess the situation and drafted an elaborate and comprehensive paper, known as Report No. 13, which established the then-CSCE’s mandate in February 1993 (CSCE/OSCE, 1993).

Bones of contention

The breakaway entities raised identical core demands that sought constitutional equality with their sovereign interlocuters, status that they claimed was deservingly comparable to the Soviet successor states which gained international recognition.

Although their main discourse in both conflicts was to gain equal status, their goals differed. While Abkhazia wanted to gain recognition, Transnistria’s sought incorporation into Russia. Furthermore, the rather low number of displaced Ukrainians and other ethnicities from Transnistria during the 1992 war was incomparable to the high number of casualties and displaced in the Abkhaz conflict. Yet neither of them has had an official peace agreement or document that concluded the conflicts.

Even though Abkhazia gained recognition from only five countries¹ following the 2008 war between Georgia and Russia, its leadership proclaimed independence and insists that it is an internationally recognized state. The Georgian government responded by passing the Law on Occupied Territories (LOT) (Legislative Herald of Georgia, 2008), which was aiding President Mikheil Saakashvili’s reintegration of its ‘lost territories’ in light of the war and the entities’ partial international recognition. The post-2008 war narrative, given the partial recognition, is therefore different to the one before.

The previous common narrative was centred on the fact that the Abkhaz authorities wanted a treaty on the non-threat of force² in place to secure their minority status and future. The Georgian position demanded the repatriation of the IDPs into Abkhazia to the Gali district of which about 47,000 returned (Human Rights Watch, 2011). In 2019, an estimated 50,000 were subject to travel restrictions between Abkhazia and Georgia which created economic hardship and separated families (ICG, 2019).

Georgian nationalists strongly supported a historical–cultural narrative concerning the question of who were the ‘guests’ and rightful ‘hosts’ in these contested territories (Coppieters, 2002, p. 96; Hewitt, 2013). In this narrative, the Abkhaz became the perceived threat, later part of the populist branch of the national consciousness in Georgia evident during the late 1980s (Cheterian, 2008; Wheatley, 2005), which then encouraged the Abkhaz to increase their claim of the original inhabitants (Hewitt, 2013, pp. 68–69; Coppieters & Sakwa, 2003, p. 90, 102).

For the Moldovan authorities, the primary contention was that the Transnistrian elite consistently used the shield of the former Soviet 14th Army³ to leverage its position. This occurred in the aftermath of the demise of the Kremlin’s main goal to artificially keep the population in Transnistria culturally distinct from the Republic of Moldova in order to maintain geopolitical control in the region. The Transnistrian authorities upheld an official narrative of the Romanian threat that is rooted in the events of World War II, mainly the intervention of Axis-aligned Ion Antonescu’s occupation of the Transnistrian landstrip and more importantly, the killing of the Jewish population (Solonari, 2010).

The reverberation of Soviet era narratives

Mutual accusations between national groups in the fSU served Moscow's political agenda. While the korenizatsiya (nativization) and then Soviet Nationalities Policy (SNPs) aimed at appeasing national separatism by granting special privileges to the national minorities in the Union Republics (Waller et al., 1998, pp. 12–31), the popularity of internationalist cohesion withered and emerging claims for equality status amongst nations during perestroika and empowered political elites in the Union Republics and their units. It enabled nationalism to grow in the Caucasus and draw on long-standing traditions (Tishkov, 1997).

While discussions on ethnicity were often censored (Wheatley, 2005, p. 27), ethnicity remained the central theme in their SNP because the national ambitions of the previously colonised were satisfied, political ambitions towards separatism decreased, national differences eliminated (Cheterian, 2008, p. 45). The ethno-federal hierarchy brought titular nations into dominant positions but left ethnic or national minorities underprivileged and at the low end of the bureaucratic apparatus.⁴

Official narratives of the 1930s and 1940s were used to serve the interests of the Soviet agenda, or propaganda, in the 1950s and 1960s. They gained particular prominence in the Caucasus and were directed at the non-Slavic populations (Jones, 2013; De Waal, 2012; Cheterian, 2008; Beissinger, 2002; Cornell, 2001). Narratives were associated with maximalist positions and uncompromising stances. The fifty distinct ethnic groups that inhabit the Caucasus (Cornell, 2001, p. 36) aggravated the self-conception of oneself vis-à-vis the ‘other’ (Kolstø and Rusetskii, 2012).

Thematic competing narratives

Imagined victimhoods in the Georgian-Abkhaz conflict

The mutually exclusive attribution of victimization that is visible in Russian, Georgian and Abkhaz narratives frames the underlying causes of the conflict. These are considered through the lens of agency-free imaginations, representing each actor in its own right as well as in relation to the other. As mentioned above, imaginations are collectively grounded perceptions. Imagined victimhoods have reinforced negative mutual perceptions between Abkhaz and Georgians. Russia struggled ‘to escape from the idea that a small nation must be the victim of a larger oppressor’ and a feeling exists in Russia ‘that now [in 1994] one is obliged to side with the underdog in any dispute’ (S. Alieva 1993, quoted in Chervonnaya, 1994, p. 46).

For Georgia, the lesson of interference by external actors after World War I was that a small nation remains dependent and often at the mercy of the interests of greater powers (Anderson, 2014, pp. 104–105).⁵ While genuine victimization certainly exists, conflict parties and countries tend to ignore other aspects when asserting their own national narrative, which is not further pursued, whereas in the national imagination, victimization continues to exist principally to define the ‘self’ against multiple others.

Victimhood in the Russian imagination

Russia’s imagined role as victim is twofold because it exists in the (sub-)regional and global dimensions. With regard to the South Caucasus, it perceives itself as a victim because of the self-perceived benevolence as a civilizing empire, without the appropriate acknowledgement or gratitude. In this collective imagination, the citizens of the vast Soviet Empire largely lived in peaceful coexistence, friendship and mutual respect and conquests were conducted with consent and beneficial to non-Russians, who were asked to show gratitude. This perspective highlights the amicable relations with the capitalist West (Lynch, 1989, p. 42). In this mindset, Moscow modernized and developed the oriental nations of the South Caucasus and beyond.

While this mindset created an imagination of territorial inseparability (Toft, 2003), it certainly asserted its cultural identity with ‘the Caucasus … [as] an integral and important component of Russian culture and literature’ (Light, 1996, p. 43). Russian authors such as Fazil Iskander, who came from Sukhum/i, wrote about the typical holiday resorts along the Georgian and Abkhaz Black Sea coast that were frequented by Russian elites (Ware, 2013). In Russia’s imagination – from the Bolsheviks to the Whites – all of them agreed that the Caucasus was integral to Russia’s geopolitical imagination and interest. At the end of August 1918, the Soviets signed an additional agreement with Germany of which Article 13 said that the Bolsheviks concurred with Germany’s recognition of Georgian independence but when the war was lost, the Red Forces conquered the territory (Cheterian, 2008, p. 76). In this collective imagination, and given the responses from Europe and the West, Russia sees itself as a victim of world politics that is threatened by an expanding NATO, especially because of an existing pan-European collective security system. Thus, what is here called imagined victimhood can be interpreted as double-edged vis-à-vis the West for four reasons (German, 2004, p. 34):⁶

First, after a period in the 1990s where friendship and partnership between the West and Russia appeared possible (Wheatley, 2005, p. 177), the West effectively reverted to the role of the latter’s enemy and the ‘other’.⁷ Second, one strand of Russia’s identity is historically anti-European, mobilizing the European identity as its unifying ‘other’ (Bassin, 1999). Third, a collective perception arose that viewed the West as hypocritical with ‘double standards’ and privileged interests over values where convenient, as in Kosovo and the Middle East. Fourth, Moscow interpreted the promotion of Western democracy as a threat, especially after the colour revolutions of 2003, 2004, 2005 and the 2014 Maidan protests and fostered resistance to these ideological incursions (Kennedy, 2010, p. 78). In this imagination, the developments tend to be conceived in an anti-European notion that started to contradict itself. The 1941 betrayal by Nazi Germany long evoked anti-European sentiments (Adomeit, 1994, pp. 225–26) but also served the recollection of the Great Patriotic War. These points have intensified Russian mistrust of the West and reinforce the Caucasus’s value as a bulwark against Western encroachment.

Victimhood in the Georgian imagination

Two themes have captured the Georgian collective imagination: the country’s fate and its territorial significance. In this national consciousness, the main themes are identified as a revolt, experienced injustice and territorial integrity by Russia. In terms of national fate, the national movement in Georgia saw ‘the ‘enemy’’ as ‘Russia – and not just the Soviet system’ because Russia already annexed Georgia into its empire in 1801 (Interview with IO official, 12 May 2015). When Georgia came under Soviet rule in 1921 following the Bolshevik revolution, the Georgian nationalist and anti-Soviet demonstration on the April 9 1989 tragedy became associated with Abkhazia and was interpreted as resistance against the the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic. This was principally because it was preceded by the Lykhny Declaration on 18 March 1989, which proclaimed independence from Georgia on the basis of the 1925 Constitution. Far from recognizing the Abkhaz language and cultural interests, nationalist Georgians assumed that the Abkhaz had adopted a pro-Soviet position (Jones, 2013, 2014).

In the Georgian collective mindset, the breakaway territories are generally perceived as having been pro-Bolshevik traitors (Interview with Georgian scholar, 1 April 2015) and as a consequence, the Abkhaz affinity with the Russian nation is neither understood nor accepted. In this consciousness, the Abkhaz war was part of a larger conflict waged by Russia against Georgia, with Russian military support for the Abkhazians (Malcolm et al., 1996, p. 51).⁸

This narrative minimizes North Caucasian involvement.⁹ This anti-Russian mindset in Georgia was evident once again in 2006 when Saakashvili called for negotiations and peacekeeping without Russian participation (Cheterian, 2008, pp. 337–39).

In medieval times, when Georgia had developed its idea of nationhood as a kingdom, nationhood was as evident in the idea of sovereignty as the raison d’être in 1648 and is affirmed by Herder’s theorization in the nineteenth century. Georgians protected their kingdom by signing treaties, notably the Treaty of Georgievsk in 1783 that was supposed to guarantee Tsarist protection against Persian and Ottoman expansion into Georgia. The Treaty marked the beginning of Georgia’s dependency on Russia and was later abrogated. Emancipatory national ideas remained theoretical until the disintegration of the Russian Empire at the beginning of the twentieth century (Anderson 2014, pp. 6–7).¹⁰ Both geopolitics and potent historical memories influence developments in the South Caucasus.

In Georgia, a tendency has developed to want to be the primary interest among post-Soviert states for Western powers (Interview with IO official, 12 March 2015). Former diplomat and analyst Ronald D. Asmus attributed Georgian intentions in 2008 to the desire to end the ‘quasi-colonial relationship with Moscow’ and to ‘become part of [the] democratic West’ (2010, pp. 215–17), which reiterated Georgia’s Euro-Atlantic discourse (Coene, 2016). Reasserting Georgia as an ancient Christian nation also emphasizes its European roots (Jones, 2004). Ilia II, the Catholicos-Patriarch of All Georgia, famously promoted the slogan ‘Georgia for the Georgians’, which also inspired first independence leader Zviad Gamsakhurdia (Jones, 2013, pp. 218–19, 222, 227).

Georgia’s territorial integrity is understood to include Abkhazia (and South Ossetia) in order to be ‘complete’, which is based on the 1905 revolution in the Russian Empire that also created space for the expression of a nascent Georgian national idea. Also, Ilia Chavchavadze, a founding father figure who is described as Georgia’s Bismarck (Gabisonia, 2012, p. 66) was author of the first book on grammar that lauded the Kartvelian literary status in the Caucasus. Despite, or because of the Soviet era, the Georgian national aspiration for territorial integrity endures to today. An example is the following. In 1919, Noe Jordania, then-Prime Minister of the new Georgian state, accepted autonomy for Abkhazia, but only under the condition that it remain with Georgia, which underlines this vulnerability that has existed until today: ‘We can accept all their demands regarding the autonomy, no matter how broad it would be. There is only one thing we cannot accept: separation from us and accession to Denikin’ [the White Russian General] (Menteashvili 51–52 in Anderson 2014, p. 54).

A little less than a century later, Saakashvili’s domestic reforms of 2004 can be read as attempts to reverse Georgia's severe economic decline and instead make Georgia attractive to the breakaway entities. This was done with nationalist animosity because the aggressive rhetoric on territorial reintegration ‘emptied the term ‘autonomy’ to the other [Georgian] regions once and for all’ (Cheterian, 2008, p. 212). While the Shevardnadze government disassociated itself from the existence of Georgian armed groups and involvement in the Abkhaz conflict, it was still an open secret that the Georgian government assisted them. Disappointment over ‘fruitless negotiations’ lent public legitimacy to guerrilla movements that exerted pressure on the Georgian authorities to make progress in the national interest (Nodia, 1998, p. 175).

Both Presidents, Shevardnadze and Saakashvili, used perceived threats to justify the use of force against Abkhazia and South Ossetia (Mihalkanin, 2004, p. 153). It was also identified as an act of revenge on Shevardnadze by Kremlin hardliners for destroying the USSR (Chervonnaya, 1994, p. 44; Matlock, 1995). Furthermore, Georgian nationalists regarded the ‘Soviet/Russian army as a force of occupation’ (Cheterian, 2008, p. 205). In this Georgian mindset, it was particularly the Russian military that had initially aided Abkhazians by providing weapons, regardless of whether this was a local initiative or on Moscow’s orders (Hewitt, 2013, pp. 150–51; cited in Cheterian, 2008, p. 206).

Victimhood in the Abkhazian imagination

The collective imagination of the Northwest Caucasian indigenous people, self-designated as Apsny, posits them as the ‘true’ inheritors of the land of Abkhazia. Two prominent factors give rise to this imagination. The first is the minority status despite historical disagreements about how they ended up as a numerical minority. The second is a heightened awareness of geopolitics as a buffer zone between Russia and Georgia. The Abkhazian imagination also refers to the difficulty of classifying the ethnic Abkhaz, without making reference to Abkhazian citizenship, as a homogenous population (O'Loughlin, Kolossov, & Toal, 2013). Abkhaz perceptions are of course influenced by the atrocities of Georgian forces against the local civilians.

Therefore, ethnic Abkhaz perceptions of being a threatened minority seem self-explanatory given the history of recurrent expulsions and external domination. The idea of ‘Abkhazness’ has over the years reinforced inflexibility in their position, in which it is impossible to suggest alternatives that deviate from international recognition.

Abkhazia exhibits aspects of political pluralism and also claims to have multi-ethnicity (O’Beacháin, 2014), the 1994 Constitution indicates ethno-national supremacy as the President must be a registered ethnic Abkhaz (Abkhaz World, 2008).¹¹ In the Abkhaz understanding, living on ‘Georgian territory’ during the Soviet years implied that the demand for special rights was negatively interpreted by them as a ‘manifestation of ingratitude’ (Akaba, 2005); at the same time, it reinforced the view that Georgians were not native to their land. Lavrenti Beria, a Mingrelian born in Abkhazia, who downgraded Abkhazia’s status in 1931 from that of a Union Republic equal to Georgia to an entity subservient to it, retains central importance in Abkhaz distrust of Georgians. Known as one of the architects of the Great Terror years he particularly targeted the national minorities, and the Abkhaz feel that this Abkhaz-born Soviet especially, or paradoxically, targeted them (Blauvelt, 2012, p. 70).

In 1993, Abkhaz framed the non-repatriation of the Georgian IDPs¹² as justified because of prior political manipulation at various moments during the Soviet period. In their view, the remedy could only be equal status with Georgia (Kobakhia, 2000).

Even after their victory in the 1992/93 war, Abkhaz fears over losing their identity and language have continued (Gurgulia, 2006, p. 13). In the Abkhaz mindset, Georgians did not ‘take into account the impact of the post-war syndrome on people of all walks of life in Abkhazia … on the moral attitude and psychological state of the population … when it [came] to possible contacts and forms of mutual relations with Georgia and the Georgians’ (Anchabadze, 1998, p. 146).

This inferiority even extends to a ‘double minority complex’ (Kingsbury and Laotides, 2015, p. 160) which means that both Georgians and Abkhazians are viewed as minorities (for Georgia in relation to Russia) with threatened identities (Hewitt, 1993; Mihalkanin, 2004) Early works on the August 2008 war presented Georgia as victim (Asmus, 2010; Cornell and Starr, 2009; Redjeb Nordania, 2014, cited in preface, xxiv, In Jones 2014).¹³ Later accounts attributed blame to Tbilisi and Western policies (Hewitt, 2013). While Abkhazians see themselves primarily as victims of Georgia’s repressive discrimination, Georgians view themselves as victims of Abkhaz disloyalty. Georgian victimhood is visible in all three post-Soviet narratives (Shatirishvili, 2010; De Leonardis, 2016; Jones, 2004). Georgians also feel not only that they are victims but also that they were proactive promoters of equality and were even disadvantaged in so doing. The disadvantage that they experienced in Soviet times is reflected in the artificial construction between Caucasians/ Central Asians and Slavic populations, with the Slavic population being valued more highly than the others (Szporluk, 1990).

Geopolitics is also a highly significant external factor in the conflict. The following three Abkhaz scholars and one Russian eye-witness of the war demonstrate this point. US interest in the conflict was motivated by geopolitical concerns and sought to establish a cordon sanitaire around Russia (Akaba, 2011, p. 18). Western involvement endangered the ‘existing geopolitical balance in the region’ and was not ‘conducive to the positive development of the peace-making process’ (Anchabadze, 1998, p. 147). The stalemate in negotiations was attributable to undisclosed motivations on the part of both the West and Russia (Garb, Inal-Ipa, & Zakareishvili, 2000). The 1992/93 war reinforced this notion (Interview with Abkhaz NGOs, 2 March 2016). In [the Abkhaz] social consciousness, a myth was cultivated that Abkhazia – because of the malicious intent of neighbouring Georgia – was fraudulently deprived of the status of a sovereign republic and artificially turned into an autonomous republic in 1931 (Chervonnaya, 1994, p. 30).

There is awareness that survival has empowered ethnic groups on their territory but also that crisis has limited economic prosperity (Interview with Abkhaz NGOs, 2 March 2016). Hindered by unfulfilled entitlement to self-determination according to the 1933 Montevideo Declaration and the UN Charter, Art. 1 (2), Abkhaz identity has suffered several indignations. Given the multiple facets of divisions between both conflict parties, reconciliation has remained a distant goal.

Alienated identities in the Moldovan-Transnistrian conflict

In the Moldovan-Transnistrian conflict narratives, both sides principally reject the possibility of the existence of another separate identity: one’s own identity is also the ‘other’s’ identity. The river has facilitated a natural physical separation line which equally generated alienation between the two banks (Nantoi, 2002, in Cojocaru, 2006, p. 262). This means an alienation takes place vertically. Due to an additional ‘alienation’ of Moldovan identity within Moldova society’s right bank (the official Republic) and the existence of one unified Moldovan identity, ¹⁴ the identity discourse is complicated. Alienation takes place horizontally.

After the initial enthusiasm for the idea of unification with Romania in the late 1980s, Romanophone Moldovans started to quickly understand that they would be disadvantaged and become second-class citizens. Enthusiasm for a pan-Romanian idea that was still present in 1992 had dissipated by 1994 (Kolstø, 2000, p. 149). Given Moldova’s heterogeneous nature that refers to Russians and Ukrainians, the contested pan-Romanianism introduced the powerful image of the traditional Romanian-speaking Moldovan through the Popular Front – a then-titular movement for independence that also existed, for instance, in the Baltic states. The movement was primarily directed against the still powerful Slavophone Tiraspol elite, a Soviet economic centre.

Although Romanophone and Slavophone populations existed on both sides of the dividing river, Russians and Ukrainians dominate in Transnistria. In the post-Soviet era, Transnistria underlined a poly-ethnic character of the state in the official absence of an ethnic majority. Although Ukrainian and Moldovan are co-official in Cyrillic script, Russian is the language in public life. Cojocaru & Suhan (2004, p. 137) asserted that the actual distinction was created by the conflict which implies that a real distinction does not exist. After examining the reciprocal rejection of identity, the contribution contrasts the ‘weak’ (or ‘thin’) Moldovan identity because of Stalin’s alleged invention of the Moldovan nation by redrawing borders, turning Bessarabians into Moldovans and relabelling them as such, despite their Turkish, Greek, Romanian and Russian past influences.¹⁵ This is contrasted with a ‘strong’ and stable (‘thick’) Transnistrian identity built on Soviet values and Russian patriotism. Transnistrians can hold double citizenship and the Tiraspol government officially promoted a multicultural policy (PMR, 2004).

Moldovan identity consists of

1. societal tensions in a divided society and the lack of a linguistic identity?

2. former Soviet/Russian threat

3. decline of both Romanian and Russian kinship ties

4. the Transnistrian ‘other’

5. ambiguity of European identity

6. manifestation of supposedly ancient Moldovan roots

Transnistrian identity is¹⁶

7.	equipped with Soviet civic attributes and
8.	built with historic threat from the ‘other’, the Romanophone-dominated Bessarabian side

Six Aspects of Moldovan identity

1. Linguistic Tensions in a Divided Society

Linguistic tensions of cultural origin between Romanophones and Slavophones are manifest in public life through street signs, food products and voices in the street. Despite the potential of a bilingual society given its 60/40 Romanophone/Russophone composition, officials still have to come to terms with the implications. A typical statement is the one by President Nikolai Timofti when he said that the lack of a ‘linguistic identity of the titular nation’ profoundly divided the society today (Constitutional Court, 2013). But social tensions were not limited to the linguistic issue, as the 2009 protests showed. Moldova cannot be viewed through ‘a simplistic East–West prism’ (Hill & Kramer, 2009), as the democratic protest movement in 2009 was not simply directed against a pro-Moscow regime. Also, members of the Moldovan communist party aspired to EU membership. The ‘ostensible differences’ between pro-Romanian and pro-Russian Moldovans seem often politicized.

In the early 1990s, the national-oriented Moldovan stressed the unique Soviet identity to emphasize their distinctiveness against pan-Romanianism (Haynes, 2003, pp. 117–22; King, 1994, pp. 345–68). The 2004 census (National Bureau¹⁷) estimated the ethnic composition of Moldova to be 75.8 percent Moldovan and 8.4 percent Russian (only the two major groups are mentioned). In linguistic terms, only 7.8 percent of Moldovans declared a native tongue that matched their nationality (referring to Moldovan); 20.8 percent declared a language that did not correspond to their nationality (18.8 percent Romanian and 2.5 percent Russian); the other three were Ukrainian, Russian, and Gagauz minorities who preferred to use Russian but only as their second language (National Bureau of Statistics of the Republic of Moldova, Census. 2004, p. 22). The same census was conducted in Transnistria, but remained unpublished.

Moldova’s religious landscape consists of two main churches: The Metropolis of Chisinau and All Moldova under the Russian Orthodoxy and the Metropolis of Bessarabia; as the latter was forbidden during Soviet rule, it was only reactivated in 1992 under the Romanian Orthodox Church. 90 percent of Transnistrians belong to the Russian Orthodox Church within the Diocese of Tiraspol (and Russian as liturgic language). The Metropolis of Chisinau and All Moldova is autonomous under the Russian Orthodoxy and uses Romanian and Russian as liturgic languages, while the Diocese of Tiraspol stands directly under the Moscow patriarchate and therefore only uses Russian.

2.	Former Soviet/Russian Threat

Moldovan identity is built on remembrance and reactivation of the threat of Russian/Soviet occupation. The Moldovan anti-Russian/Soviet identity has its foundation in a twisted and long historical experience. The only territorial-linguistic overlap with the MSSR in the Moldavian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic (MASSR) established in Ukraine in 1924, is indeed Transnistria. The intention of a ‘separate’ MASSR was to foment revolution in Bessarabia that would then spread to Romania (Haynes, 2003, p. 111), in connection with the fear of an emerging Greater Romania.

The MASSR’s population was less than one third Romanophone, with Ukrainian, Russian and Jewish minorities that accounted for more than 50 percent. The re-introduction of the Cyrillic script in 1940 separated the Moldovan language from (the otherwise identical) Romanian and served to reinforce Moscow’s intention of creating a distinct nation and support Bessarabia’s incorporation.¹⁸

After the Soviet annexation in 1940, an estimated 250,000 Moldovans were either executed or deported to Central Asia and Siberia. The deportation of a quarter-million landowners and intelligentsia was intended to create ‘economic and ideological conformity’ (Haynes, 2003, pp. 117–118); voluntary migration within the USSR contributed to a further loss. The Soviet motivation for the deportation of the Bessarabian bourgeoisie (similar to the indigenous Caucasian and Baltic populations) was because they were less trustworthy than Slavs, which reinforced existing differences between Bessarabia and Transnistria.¹⁹

A thaw in the 1960s, a period of rigid de-nationalization, allowed historical reconsideration, particularly in neighbouring Romania. Publications that cited Marx and Engels condemned the Russian conquest of Bessarabia in 1812 and the reintroduction of Cyrillic alienated Romanophones as well as diminishing their influence (Haynes, 2003, p. 111). Nevertheless, Transnistrian Moldovans were considered ‘more loyal to the Soviet regime and politically more reliable than their counterparts from the former ‘bourgeois’ Bessarabia’ (Van Moers, 1994, In Cojocaru, 2006, p. 264).

In 1976, Bessarabian Moldovan insubordination vis-à-vis Moscow almost triggered an intervention by the central authorities and led to intensified Russification policies. By the 1980s, the pan-Romanian intellectual movement recurrently challenged the Soviet policy. The return to the Romanian form of Moldova (that rejects the label Moldavia) was reinforced by the Romanophone elite. Both the Moldavian SSR and the previous Moldavian Democratic Republic of December 1917 (independent only until March 1918) were proclaimed by the National Council (Sfatul Tării). The Moldovan Republic of 1917 was proclaimed with only a minority: ‘On 27 November 1918, with only about one-quarter of the deputies present, pro-Romanian forces hurriedly passed a proposal for unconditional unification and the Sfatul Tării was dissolved’ (Hamm, 1998, p. 33). This shows that the Romanian influence was overestimated and that the ‘cultural’ threat might not have been as significant as is often presented. It, however, also presents the Russian and Soviet threat as overdimensional, as more long-lasting over long periods of time.

3.	Decline of Romanian and Russian Ties

The decline of both Romanian and Russian ties weakened the self-conception of Moldovan identity. The anticipated reunification with Romania (Bird, 2013; RFE/RL, 2016) failed for three reasons.²⁰ First, there had been no shared experience in nation-building since 1859; second, Romania suppressed Slavophones during the interwar period; third, Romania’s lack of interest and also discriminating treatment of Moldovans deflated Moldovans’ desire for reunification (Całus, 2014; Kohler, 1997).²¹ And equally, when Moldovans learned that Romania was not significantly more prosperous, their interest in reunification further decreased. Only being part of a Greater Romania from 1918 to 1940 meant that it shaped a separate identity and that Bessarabia never attained the same status as other Romanian regions (King, 2000).

The Language Law of 1989 that advocated Romanian at the outset of the decision, in later versions changed to Moldovan in the Latin alphabet, was popular among the population. Popular support for Romanian as the official language slowed down substantially during the 1994 multi-party elections (Kolstø, 2000, p. 145) and instead led to a high voter turnout for the Democratic Agrarian Party, which shows that a traditional national identity existed as well. The replacement of the 1978 Soviet constitution with the 1994 constitution particularly shows how this curtailed the autonomous status for minorities (Constitution of Moldova). The role of the Romanian kin-state is demonstrated through the acquisition of kin-state citizenship and binds them to the kin state, even though they do have an affiliation (Knott, 2019).

4.	The Transnistrian ‘Other’

Identity is both mutable and in constructivist terms of course defined against the ‘other’. During glasnost, activists in Moldova as well as in the Baltic republics demanded the reversal of the legacy of the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact of 1939 (Hill, 2002, p. 130). Chisinau rejected Gorbachev’s decree of 22 December 1990 that reiterated Moldova’s integrity into the Union Treaty (Pop, 2003, p. 208). Unwilling to join Moldova in these protests Tiraspol perceived Chisinau’s rejection as a betrayal and blamed the leadership for contributing to the Soviet breakup (Haynes, 2003, p. 121). In August 1991, Chisinau’s politicians ‘condemned the organizers of the coup’ in Moscow (Neukirch, 2001, p. 124) yet declared independence and deemed Transnistria’s separatist claims illegal, fearing a repetition of secession in Gagauzia (Całus, 2014).

5.	Enduring Ambiguity of European identity

Moldova’s gradual embrace of a European – as opposed to Russian – identity is conditioned by its past and present Russian policy. Moving towards Europe has encouraged closer relations with Romania but inherited problematic societal ramifications. While the geopolitical pull between the EU/US and Russia is evident, the global context can be considered a major factor that has all but prevented conflict resolution (Beyer & Wolff, 2016). Although to some extent a European identity in Moldova does exist, it also means that the East West politico-economic directions have confused the identities.

Moldova’s ‘European’ identity was historically shaped when the Treaty of Bucharest of 1812 ceded the eastern half of the historical Moldavian principality (i.e. Bessarabia) to the Russian Empire, while the western part became an autonomous principality. The idea of Europe took hold in nineteenth-century Chisinau, which then developed from a predominantly agricultural Romanian society into a place associated with some European cosmopolitanism. Many cities attracted Jewish incomers and settlers from western Europe populated the so-called free land (Hamm, 1998, p. 26), also known as the German ‘drive to the east’.

Under the Russian empire, so wrote Ignacy Kraszewski, Chisinau developed into a “truly European microcosm” (Jerzy Buzek, 2012, in Kosienkowski & Schreiber, 2012, p. ix). Trade with the Ottoman Empire via the Black Sea and the port of Odessa also exposed the surrounding region to cultural influences. It was observed that Chisinau then grew in similarity to the Dniester region (Hill, 1977, p. 9). After the Russian conquest, the previously ‘Romanian-speaking presence in the area from antiquity … up until Catherine the Great’s conquests of the lands in the late eighteenth century’ resembled each other beyond the Dniester (Haynes, 2003, p. 115). In earlier years, Russian intellectuals such as Pushkin earlier rejected the notion that the two regions were similar, calling Kishinev (Chisinau) a ‘cursed city’, exotic and uncivilized. On arriving in Odessa in 1823, he noted that now he had entered ‘Europe’ (Hamm, 1998, p. 33), which evidences the originally different cultural areas and the later conglomeration of land and people. With the Russian influence, the former exclusive homeland of Romanian folklore spilled ‘in compact mass onto the left bank’ where the climate was milder (Kristof, 1974, p. 24).

It is noteworthy and important for the Soviet legacy that the Dniester region grew increasingly different from the Bessarabian lands during this period. In 2015, former President Petru Lucinschi said he felt pro-Moldovan, pro-Russian, and pro-European and that, geographically speaking, Moldova had always been part of Europe (Sous, 2015). This, however, also underlines the poly-cultural character of the country with an emphasis on a ‘European’ identity. The ambiguity and dissonance of this European identity is still very visible in historical terms when it is affirmed on the one hand through Russification and on the other hand demonstrated by the ‘non-European’ Bessarabia. In this sense, European cannot fully be understood as Moldovan and Russian.

6.	Manifestation of Supposedly Ancient Moldovan Roots

The Republic of Moldova, a part of the geographically larger historic region of Moldavia, claims its national identity on the heroic legend of Stephen the Great (1457–1504) who saved the Moldovan kingdom by miraculously defeating the Ottoman army. Because of the success of Stephen the Great (Ștefan cel Mare), he serves as a true Moldovan hero that the Romanophone population identifies with and feels pride towards. The dilemma of a common, all-encompassing Moldovan identity is endangered because of a trap. If Romanophone Moldovans ‘were to recognize Transnistria, then we would also recognize the existence of a new identity, that of the ‘Transnistrian Moldovans’ ‘ (Chirila, 2011). The inclusion of Transnistrian Moldovans in their narrative of ‘true heirs of the medieval Moldavian State’ would conflict with the original notion of Moldovans (ibid.).

Transnistrian identities

The Russian-backed Transnistrian identity appears strong. It comprises two pillars: Soviet-inspired resistance and a threat-based reactivation of history. It interestingly excludes any ethno-linguistic dimension.

1. Soviet-Inspired Resistance

Fighting for independence in the 1992 war (March until July) is the main pillar that defines Transnistrian identity (Cojocaru, 2006, p. 267). Additionally, the Transnistrian elites have institutionalized the pre-existing civic identity based on an idealized Soviet past and Orthodox Slavic identity. Two following aspects are prominent: the ‘self-liquidation of the Moldavian state’ and consistent application of the Moldovan demand to redraw the illegal borders of the 1940s which puts Transnistria outside Moldova’s current borders (Dembinska & Iglesias, 2013, p. 414–415). The then-Transnistrian state news agency Olvia Press stated in 2014 that Moldovan policies had actively accelerated Transnistrian statehood and it had generated a resistance identity (Wagemakers, 2014, p. 5).

The Transnistrian victory at Bender/y in 1992 also triggered ‘feelings of ethnic solidarity’ among Russian politicians and media (Hill, 2002, p. 133), as well as public assertions that Moldovans had massacred civilians, which was presented by the Transnistrian Press as an attempt at ‘ethnic cleansing’. With the deterioration of political relations between the two conflict parties, the Transnistrian victory ensured control over military resources and as a consequence, it activated military involvement on request given the Russian arsenal in Transnistria (131). Russia was able to continue its support for nation-building with the military on the basis of civic Soviet values (Mitrofanova, 2015). Public attributes such as Soviet-style boulevards and urban buildings have projected this identity (Cojocaru, 2006, p. 264).

Other factors from the war period also strengthened Transnistrian identity. Historically, Moldovan industry had been concentrated in Transnistria with a strong economic performance until the early 1990s. As a successful exporter of textiles and steel, Transnistria enjoyed joint ventures with Western partners in the post-Soviet era (by exporting to Moldova) and was able to benefit from free Russian gasoline and other advantageous tariffs.

Seeking to retain political power by any means, the Tiraspol elite was situated ‘at the confluence between legal and illegal business and politics’ (Popescu, 2006, p. 4). It made profits by continuing to look eastward and failed to invest in its ageing factories.

Despite an obvious brain-drain, the younger generation sees the future pragmatically. When seeking higher living standards, Russian influence (e.g., subsidies, labour migration) is still regarded as a more realistic prospect than the unknown Europe. As Transnistrian pensions and work opportunities are apparently secured by resources. Despite a hole in the entity's budget, it was believed that Transnistrians lived better than their Moldovan counterparts (Novosti PMR, 2016). This is reflected in the idea that if pensions were ‘as high in Moldova as in Russia, even people from Russia would want to move there' (Parlicov et al., 2017). Yet, Tiraspol also benefitted through a preferential trade system under Moldova’s AA with the EU since July 2014, which was even before the EU's conclusion of the Deep Comprehensive Free Trade Area (DCFTA) with Chisinau that took effect in January 2016 (Euractiv, 2019). Since then, 64 per cent of Moldovan exports go to the EU market (European Commission, 2022). This not only shows how Moldova is seen but also that the financial impact prevails to the linguistic dimension and that leaving for Russia means ‘lucrative’ work opportunities in the first place (Deutsche Welle, 2014).

Despite the Russian proposition, Moscow has refused to concede the Transnistrian elites’ demand for unification. While various forms of Russian presence are welcomed (Penhaul, 2014), the pro-Russian attitude has become controversial among parts of the Slavophone population since the 2014 unrest in Kiev and the outbreak of war in eastern Ukraine. Elements of the Romanophone population also lean towards Moldova and the Ukrainian minority has distanced itself from so-called ‘Russian expansionism’ following the 2014 annexation of Crimea. It led to an Ukrainian-Moldovan coalition on this mattter (RIAC, 2015).

2.	Threat-Based Reactivation of History

Romania’s claim to hegemony is certainly and not surprisingly the most important underlying factor that contributes to the formation of a separate identity. While Slavophone Transnistrians (or Russians and Ukrainians) had at the time objected to participation in the Romanian Army (1941–1944), Second World War-related events vanished from Transnistrian official collective and national memory (Spiegel Online, 2014). It was the 1992 war of independence that reactivated the idea that Romanophone Bessarabian Moldovans were different from Transnistrians, as they were all, including the Transnistrian Moldovans, portrayed as aggressors. In the official Transnistrian account, the declaration of independence in 1990 happened because of fears of ‘aggressive militant nationalism’ from the Bessarabian side when Moldovan nationalists reported to have called for all non-Moldovans to be deported and to create a ‘pure ethnic state’ (Olvia Transnistrian Press, 2014). This is the other element that founds their identity.

As in other former SSRs, historiography was modified and many Moldovans in Transnistria russified (Suhan & Cojocaru, 2002, p. 262). Instructed that their history, culture, and language did not exist and their ancestors and relatives were more or less Stalin’s (and even the Russian Tsars’) so-called ‘invention’, the separate identity started to evolve after 1992 (Dembinska & Iglesias, 2013, p. 419). In 1993, the Union of Transnistrian Moldovans called for Transnistria to be a Soviet Republic and reminded them of their status between 1924 and 1940 when Transnistria was part of Ukraine as well as the AMSSR, and the foundation of the Moldovan ‘nation’ is interestingly seen here. From this perspective, it may even be said that two nations of a similar kind exist, even if they are primarily of political relevance. The Union here shows this by regret of the separation into two or even more parts: ‘We, the Transnistrian Moldovans voted for the creation of the Pridniestrovia Moldovan Republic to prevent a betrayal … to remain masters of our own land, to keep our ancient race … . However, we never wanted the dismemberment of Moldova’ (Babilunga and Bomeshko 1993, p. 79, cited in Dembinska & Iglesias, 2013, p. 417).

Conclusion

As competing narratives were a salient feature in the Soviet era that left non-Slavophones often disadvantaged, this article has demonstrated how narratives once again in the Soviet system and beyond have become transformed, yet, serving as a tool for it.

In situations, in which ethnic groups pursue their own interests, motivated by the former Soviet Nationalities Policy (SNP) in terms of securing, asserting or expanding territory, conflicts like these are an easy to expect reality, these were wide-ranging in Georgia.

Although the underlying native/non-native dichotomy was represented in Moldova as titular/non-titular and are only remotely touching upon WWII. To be clear, the pre-1940 narratives have excluded the Romanian ‘other’ from this collective identity and the Bolshevik-formed Moldovan identity in Transnistria was different. The themes of the narratives in Moldova differ additionally because, unlike in the South Caucasus, many Transnistrian politicians and key businessmen for instance only migrated to the region and are less attached.

The linguistic-cultural identity in Moldova is significant because of the proportional underrepresentation of the Moldovan as a titular group in its own country and because the linguistic landscape from Russian to the Latin-script Romanian was only changed in the late 1980s/early 1990s (Bozhesku, 1998, p. 20). Without naming it directly, the abnegation of a separate Transnistrian identity means the rejection of an equal status in political terms and easily results in the continuation of uncompromising positions. The functionality of customs and trade regulations have clearly dominated these talks.

The notion of imagined victimhood in the so-called conflict triad Georgia, Abkhazia, and Russia has remained a salient and in this particular sense unapproached theme in the negotiations. The perceived existential threat in Abkhazia from Georgia, the Georgian threat of territorial fragmentation, combined with a Russian takeover, has shaped the behaviour in the collective imagination and even that one has changed because, for instance, in Georgian youth, mental and geographical imagination no longer targets to see Abkhazia within Georgia because of the travel restrictions which have been implemented.

The basic bones of contention – meaning the obvious accusations or reasons outlined – that characterize each conflict have in common the intransigent positions. Peace processes would benefit from focussing still more on incorporating the roles of the underlying competing narratives.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by German Academic Exchange Service.

Notes on contributors

Nina Lutterjohann

Dr Nina Lutterjohann has been a Visiting Scholar at the Harriman Institute, funded with a DAAD short-term post-doctoral scholarship. Before that she was a Guest Researcher at the Centre for East European and International Studies (ZOiS) in Berlin in 2020 and held a position as Project Coordinator and Research Fellow in the Institute for Interdisciplinary Research on Conflict and Violence at the Bielefeld University. She is Research Associate at MECACS at the School of International Relations at the University of St Andrews, where she also received her PhD on post-Soviet conflicts and international organizations.

Notes

1 Russian Federation, Syria, Nicaragua, Venezuela, and Nauru.

2 This is based on closed-source UN/OSCE reports and documents.

3 Since 1995 it is the Operational Group of Russian Forces (OGRF).

4 The Communist Party leadership, central state bureaucracy and military.

5 The legal borders, as decided in the 3 March 1918 Brest-Litovsk Treaty between the Central Powers and Soviet Russia changed with the Treaty of Batum/i on 4 June 1918 by the Ottoman Empire and the Transcaucasian States. In the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 Georgians did not see their rights sufficiently represented by the European ‘preference’ for Russian and Soviet forces and it was viewed as a disappointment.

6 The additional discord between the Russian and Georgian Presidents, with Putin asserting that the fight against terrorism was impeded by Georgia’s remote Pankisi Gorge, which served as a rear base for Islamist militants.

7 Putin’s description of Russia as a ‘reliable ally for the West’ (Fawn 2002, p. 145) was true for a certain period of Russian-Western relations. The change in Russia’s policies and its temporary weakness in the Caucasus was connected to US-Russian relations in the course of the ‘war on terrorism’. US military training in Georgia and US-trained Georgian troops would not be used against/in Abkhazia (147).

8 The official Russian government position was to side with Georgia, Yeltsin was neither in consistent command of local military commanders nor of more hardline staff in the Ministry of Defense.

9 A Georgian-Chechen meeting in the 2000s concluded that the 1992–93 co-operation was a mistake because of Dudaev’s choice to side with the Abkhaz. This is explained by the initial North Caucasian affiliation that shifted due to the later growing importance of Georgia Pankisi Gorge that because of its proximity to Chechen territory became known as a refuge for Chechen guerilla fighters.

10 The first declaration of independence was on 26 May 1918, after the collapse of the very short-lived Transcaucasian Federation (February until May 1918); Georgia became fully independent on 9 October 1918.

11 The 1994 Constitution (amended in 1999), Chapter 4, The Executive Power, Article 49: ‘Any person of Abkhaz nationality who is a citizen of the Republic of Abkhazia and who is not younger than 35 years and not older than 65 years, having the right to vote, is eligible to be elected President of the Republic of Abkhazia.’ Accessed on 24 April 2019, http://www.kapba.de/Constitution.html

12 Mingrelians from Abkhazia’s Gali district.

13 Redjeb, son of Noe Jordania, Georgia’s first elected leader in 1918, refers to Asmus’ book (2010) as an ‘honest account of the conflict’. Preface, xxv.

14 Bessarabian Moldovans make up about 60 per cent of the population and the voices of the Slavophone population, which is at 40 per cent, seem marginalized. Bilingual signs and shops are common in Moldova (in Chisinau) and the bilingual society generally functions. Author’s observations, 11–23 September 2014.

Tensions between these groups are new. Moldovans in the official Moldova identify 1992 and the military conflict as the start of conflict, while Transnistrians point to the 1989 language law.

15 Prior to the Soviet Union, Moldova was a former principality, Ottoman and Greek vassal state and both part of the Romanian lands long before 1859 and the Russian empire in 1812 following the Treaty of Bucharest.

16 The events that occurred between August 1989 and 1991 were largely nationalist and inter-ethnic movements and not centrally organized.

17 The 2014 census did not provide sufficient information on the population groups, which is why the 2004 census is used: http://recensamant.statistica.md/en. The 2014 consensus focused on the populations’ social-urban issues, such as infrastructure and gender: http://recensamant.statistica.md/en

18 Because in Stalin’s definition, a nation must possess a single language, territory, and community of people and have its own socio-economic activities.

19 Transnistria was subject to experience the full force of Stalin’s Russification policy.

20 The political connotation is underlined with Voronin using the term ‘unification and restoration of the Moldovan state’ for Transnistria but ‘reunification’ for Romania. Romania refrained from officially ruling out reunification for political reasons. On 27 March 2016, the Day of the Union of Bessarabia with Romania, also some Moldovans (5000-6000) again celebrated the ‘march of reunion’ to commemorate Bessarabia joining Romania in 1918. https://www.rferl.org/a/moldova-rally-romania-unification/27638163.html. This is, however, not a public holiday. Then-Moldova (or Bessarabia) included a part of Ukraine.

21 The Moldovan question became politicized in Romania in the 1990s. At several points after 1989 – after Ceauçescu’s fall and death – and during the early 1990s, official Romanian interest in Moldova became increasingly motivated by electoral campaigns, but did not represent anymore real interest in the Moldovan people. Yet, there is more to the ‘lack’ of interest, as Romania has its own issues with Hungarian minorities and fears Hungarian territorial claims.