Paul
Goble
Staunton, October 21 – Almost every
news report provides lessons in geography and history as people focus on places
they had not done so before and precedents they had not considered. The former
may simply be a “collateral” result of where things are, but the latter often
reflects efforts by those responsible for new developments to consider the
past.
When the Soviets invaded
Afghanistan, for example, Russian scholars and military analysts produced a
flood of articles and books about the Soviet struggle against the basmachis in
Central Asia in the 1920s and 1930s, as Soviet commanders tried to derive lessons
from that earlier conflict.
Now, as Russia is getting involved
in Syria, some analysts close to the regime are doing the same thing, looking
into the past to get ideas about how to deal with the present crisis; and their
articles provide as did those of their predecessors about the basmachi
indications of what Moscow may do next.
One of the most interesting and
instructive of these new articles is one by Konstantin Kokaryev, an analyst at the
influential Russian Institute for Strategic Studies (RISI), about the Soviet intervention
in Eastern Turkestan in 1933-1934 to crush the Turkestan Islamic Republic (centrasia.ru/news.php?st=1445405940).
The situation in Eastern Turkestan
(Xinjiang) at the end of the 1920s and the beginning of the 1930s was every bit
as unsettled and confused as that in Syria today. The local population was
increasingly impoverished and oppressed by higher taxes and the arrival of
demobilized Chinese soldiers who were being settled there, Kokaryev writes.
In April 1931, things came to a head
and there were spontaneous popular risings, led by local elites who proclaimed the
establishment of an independent Turkestan Islamic Republic, a formation that
threatened Chinese sovereignty, Moscow’s dominance in Central Asia, and non-Muslims
there, including Russian Cossacks and other White Russian emigres.
In January 1933, the forces of the Turkestan
Islamic Republic moved on Urumchi. They laid siege to it. Power there passed to
Shen Shipao, a Chinese official whose power base consisted of a force of former
White Russian troops under the command of a Colonel Papengut. But by late 1934,
the Islamic Republic forces were near to overrunning that group as well.
Consequently, Shen Shipao called on
Moscow to intervene. In November 1933,
Moscow did so. “Soviet forces dressed in tsarist and White Guard uniforms began
an intervention in Xinjiang,” Kokaryev writes; and after serious battles, they
prevented the Islamic Republic’s forces from taking power.
In 1934, Soviet forces intervened
openly. Two brigades of NKVD troops, numbering some 7000 officers and men
attacked the forces of the Turkestan Islamic Republic and defeated them. They
were assisted in this by White Russian units, whose commanders recalled that in
some cases “half of the forces were whites and half reds.”
But that was not the end of the
story. Meanwhile, 800 Chinese Muslims attacked pro-Soviet Uygurs who were
forced to flee to Kasgar. The Chinese Muslims gained strength, but they were
pursued and attacked by White Russians, Mongolians, and Chinese forces, as well
as by Soviet ones until they left in April 1934.
Even after the formal withdrawal,
some Soviet units remained there, Kokaryev says, including a cavalry regiment
of approximately 1000 men with tanks and artillery as well as several dozen
military advisors who continued to work with White Russian emigres against the
forces of the rapidly crumbling Islamic Republic.
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