‘This isn’t our war’

Since the war began, reports of local deaths have become a fixture of regional news feeds. Nearly one in 10 comments in Tatar, Bashkir, Yakut, Buryat, Tuvan, and Ossetian appears under a post about the war and its casualties.

In these republics, users are on average three times more likely to comment in their native language under obituaries than under other posts.

Calling the war a war

From the first days of the invasion, the Russian authorities have presented the war as a “common cause” for all of Russia’s diverse citizenry. In early March 2022, in a speech honouring the “heroism” of a killed Dagestani soldier, Vladimir Putin declared that he himself was “a Lak, a Dagestani, a Chechen, an Ingush, a Russian, a Tatar, a Jew, a Mordvin, an Ossetian.”

Military units from Russia’s national republics often carry names in their national languages. Tatarstan has battalions called “Alga” (“Forward”), “Timer” (“Iron”) and “Batyr” (“Hero”). Bashkortostan has “Vatan” (“Homeland”) and the drone unit “Aigir” (“Stallion”). Yakutia has the “Bootur” (“Hero”) detachment.

The authorities also use these languages to lure people into the war, with minority-language signs and online posts advertising military recruitment contracts.

To tailor their message to local audiences, state media have even tried to translate the chief euphemism for “war”, the “special military operation”. A photo from one broadcast of a Buryat TV studio shows a sign in front of the hosts that reads, in Buryat: “We are forbidden to say war, we say SPECIAL OPERATION”. Media and officials use similar euphemisms in Tatar, Bashkir, Tuvan, and Yakut.

But none of these translations has caught on. In everyday speech, residents most often just use their language’s word for “war” when talking about the invasion of Ukraine.

Only in Yakutia and Tuva do people actively use the Russian abbreviation “SVO” (“Special military operation”) in comments in their own languages. Even there, “war” remains the most common term, and people use the word two to three times more often in their own language than in Russian.

“Neologisms like ‘special military operation’ appeared in the native languages after calling a war a war became off-limits. Buryat, Kalmyk, and Chuvash newspapers rolled out their own versions right away,” says a sociolinguist who specialises in minority languages and asked to remain anonymous. “But local media still prefer to write about the war in Russian. Wishing a fellow villager a happy 80th birthday goes in the native language, while news about the ‘SVO’ goes in Russian.”

‘May the war end’

People in Russia’s national republics don’t just call the war a war — they speak about it in ways Russian speakers don’t. In Bashkir and Tatar, users call it “cursed” and “senseless”. In Tuvan, they call it “black”, “ruinous”, “terrifying” and “cruel”. In Buryat, they call it “vile”, and in Buryat and Sakha alike, it’s a “war-calamity”. None of the comments analysed used comparable expressions in Russian.

Often people simply wish for the war to end. Novaya Europe’s analysis found hundreds of comments in minority languages with nearly identical wording — “May the war end” — and no comparable formulations in Russian.

Some commenters wrote about how senseless the war is:

• •“Boys are dying for nothing. When will this war end?” (Bashkir)

• •“Oh Allah, it wrenches the soul. Children are dying in this war.” (Tatar)

Others warn their neighbours:

• •“Young guys, why would you go to war? Be careful, don’t go.” (Yakut)

And some say outright that the war is “not our war”:

• •“It’s a shame. When will the war finally end? There aren’t many of us Tuvans as it is.” (Tuvan)

• •“Don’t fight for someone else’s world. This isn’t our war, we need freedom.” (Bashkir)

‘Come back unharmed’

One of the main themes is people wishing their countrymen a safe return home. Phrases like “May they return healthy” and “Come back unharmed” turn up in comments in every language, but in Russian they appear dozens of times less often.