Who are the Kalmyks? Stalin's Forgotten Genocide
The following descriptions derive from interviews with survivors of the deportation. Soldiers, armed and unyielding, pounded on doors, giving families little time to react. Parents scrambled to dress their children against the biting winter cold, their hands trembling with fear and urgency. Fathers grabbed what few possessions they could, blankets, bread, family photographs, while mothers clutched their children tightly. Entire villages were emptied, their residents herded into the town square under armed guard. The soldiers, indifferent to the anguish around them, shouted names and marked them off on their lists making sure everyone was accounted for with mechanical precision. The sound of pens striking clipboards mixed with the sobs of children and the muted despair of their elders. From the town square, the Kalmyks were loaded into train cars like cargo. Conditions were inhumane; the cars were overcrowded and poorly ventilated, offering little protection from the freezing temperatures. The journey to Siberia and Central Asia lasted weeks, during which many deportees succumbed to hunger, cold, and disease.
In the wake of Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day, I was confounded by how many genocides remain overlooked in public memory. In Ancient Rome, damnatio memoriae, the erasure of one’s name and legacy, was considered a fate worse than death. This idea resonates deeply with me as a descendant of Kalmyk survivors of Soviet-era ethnic cleansing. My grandmother was directly impacted by the Kalmyk deportation, and as someone shaped by her legacy, I want to bring attention to the ongoing psychological and cultural effects of a genocide rarely acknowledged. This specific publication will tell the story of the Kalmyk people: both their origins, deportations, and their current enduring culture in diaspora. However, this is only the start of a long journey continuing to spread my growth of knowledge. Future articles relating to intergenerational trauma, exploration of Kalmyk culture, and survivor interview transcripts will be posted on sundays.
My name is Anton Badushov. I am a student in Boston, Massachusetts. I am a fencer and write for the school newspaper; however, what really encompasses my identity is being part of the Kalmyk diaspora. I hope this newsletter can help explain what that means.
Introduction: Who are the Kalmyks?
The Kalmyks are a Buddhist majority ethnic group, descendants of the Oirats, a tribe broken off of the separated Mongolian empire. In the early 17th century, a group of Oirats began a westward migration from their homeland in Dzungaria (present-day Xinjiang, China). By 1630, they had reached the steppes of the lower Volga River and the Caspian Sea, in what is now southern Russia. In 1771, while most of the population decided to return to Mongolia, multiple Oirat communities decided to stay near the Volga River region, not wanting to risk the dangerous trek back to Mongolia. This sect of people was given the name Kalmyk, by their Turkic neighbours, derived from the Turkic word "Kalmak,” which means "remnant" or "to remain." Supposedly, from the Turkic point of view, the Kalmyks were "those who remained pagan," resisting Islamic influence. Ultimately, the Kalmyks settled their dominance in the region and established the culture and traditions that persisted into the modern-day.
The Deportation: What really happened.
However, during Stalin’s reign of terror that culture was systemically targeted. Under the project name, Ulses, Mikhail Kalinin, Former Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, and Alexander Gorkin, Former Secretary of the Presidium of the Supreme Council of the USSR, high-ranking Soviet officials, declared the dissolution of the Kalmyk ASSR and the forced resettlement of its people. The following descriptions derive from interviews with survivors of the deportation. Soldiers, armed and unyielding, pounded on doors, giving families little time to react. Parents scrambled to dress their children against the biting winter cold, their hands trembling with fear and urgency. Fathers grabbed what few possessions they could, blankets, bread, family photographs, while mothers clutched their children tightly. Entire villages were emptied, their residents herded into the town square under armed guard. The soldiers, indifferent to the anguish around them, shouted names and marked them off on their lists making sure everyone was accounted for with mechanical precision. The sound of pens striking clipboards mixed with the sobs of children and the muted despair of their elders. From the town square, the Kalmyks were loaded into train cars like cargo. Conditions were inhumane; the cars were overcrowded and poorly ventilated, offering little protection from the freezing temperatures. The journey to Siberia and Central Asia lasted weeks, during which many deportees succumbed to hunger, cold, and disease.
Resettlement.
After the fall of the Soviet Union, many Kalmyks migrated to the United States, with a significant number settling on the East Coast’s tri-state area. Cities like New York, Philadelphia, and various parts of New Jersey, already home to thriving Russian-speaking communities, offered a sense of familiarity that helped ease the transition for Kalmyk immigrants. The shared language, customs, and post-Soviet experiences created a bridge between Kalmyks and Russians in the region, fostering a sense of solidarity rooted in a common history. This connection made it easier for Kalmyks to adapt while still holding onto their identity.
One key example is the Rashi Gempil Ling temple in Howell, New Jersey, the first Kalmyk Buddhist temple in the US. More than just a religious site, it became the heart of the community, offering a sanctuary for cultural transmission. Here, Kalmyks gathered to celebrate holidays including Tsagan Sar (the Lunar New Year), attend language classes, and participate in ceremonies that had once been quietly suppressed or forgotten under Soviet rule.
The Soviet past loomed large in these efforts. Decades of forced russification had left many Kalmyks with a fractured sense of identity. However, in the US they had a space to bring it back. Being close to other Russian-speaking immigrants helped, in what was salvaging their dying language and culture. The survival of the Kalmyk identity was never guaranteed; it could just as easily have disappeared. But it didn’t. I’m living proof of that. What we lost under the Soviet system, language, religion, holidays, we slowly began to recover. By not forgetting the past, but growing from it, the Kalmyk people continue to live on.
Very insightful!
Thank you for sharing the story