CLIMATE CHANGE. DEVELOPMENT. WORLD TRAVEL.
Globalisation: A Double-Edged Sword for the People of Yakutia
The social, economic, and environmental impacts, from someone who lived there.
Yakutia, also known as the Sakha Republic, is a federal region located in north-eastern Siberia, Russia. Its capital is Yakutsk, with temperatures regularly south of -40C making it the coldest city in the world.
It is a place that I have a personal attachment to, having spent time there myself. I worked as an English language teacher during the 2014–15 academic year, which allowed me to experience the realities of Yakutian life, with its myriad challenges matched only by its cultural traditions—such as those of cuisine, music, language, and spirituality.
Indeed, so vast is Yakutia that if it were to be divided up, land the size of a small lake would be afforded to each person. This is a common joke amongst locals, although the disconnected nature of many of its communities is no laughing matter. A region—roughly the size of India and characterised by rich traditions, historically few transport links, and extreme cold—one might think that it is largely untouched by external influences.
But despite its cultural and geographic isolation, the forces of globalisation have interwoven the fortunes of the Yakutian people with the rest of the world—for better and for worse.
From the ‘Khomus’ to KTV
As a people, Yakuts trace themselves back to the 10th century. And many of the traditions instilled by early Sakha dwellers have survived until today. This became clear during my first full day in Yakutsk when I was asked to take part in a spiritual ‘welcoming’ to the region, called ‘Algys’.
The ceremony, which all newcomers should attend, involves the ‘Algyschyt’ (performer of the ceremony) addressing the heavenly spirits. To do this, the Algyschyt lights and feeds a fire. The fire is treated with horsehair, mare’s milk, and small pancakes. Proceedings conclude with ‘toyuk’, a folk song which the Algyschyt performs in Yakut language while encircling the fire.
And my cultural education did not end there. During the rest of my time in Yakutia, I immersed myself in traditional cuisine (by eating dishes like ‘stroganina’ — frozen fish, sliced, and served with onion and vodka), visited small villages (more on this later), and learned to play (and perform) the ‘khomus’, a traditional Yakutian instrument.
At the same time, new social spaces are constantly popping up across the city, creating an interesting cocktail of new and old. A natural effect of globalisation, no doubt. But none the less striking to see.
A 24-hour American diner, a low-key cabin-style pub serving up Guinness and live bands, and Chinese KTV rooms were just a few of my favourite spots in Yakutsk. I even discovered the drama of an ‘exit room’, with the added tension of not knowing anything my teammates were saying.
Needless to say and residents, particularly younger souls (including those studying at the popular North-Eastern Federal University), benefit from these cultural exchanges. Many young residents plan to leave the region for opportunities in Moscow or St. Petersburg. But this at least improves their social opportunities while they are in Yakutsk, as well as providing valuable job opportunities.
Diamonds are Forever?
Domestic and global trading networks have also benefited Yakutia economically. For a start, one-quarter of the world’s diamonds are mined in Yakutia. A large proportion comes from the Yakutian town of Mirny, which plays conspicuous host to an enormous open diamond mine, 525 metres deep.
Diamond demand is high, and exports have been made a little bit easier by several road improvements between Mirny, Yakutsk, and the other biggest hubs of civilisation.
Even the Kolyma Highway (also known as the ‘Road of Bones’), which connects Yakutsk with Magadan 2,000km away, has undergone substantial improvements over the past couple of decades. Magadan is located on the Eastern tip of Russia, and Yakutian exports head from its port to their biggest (but not only) market: East Asia.
The next time that you go into a jewellery store, see if you can spot any Yakutian treasures.
The Shifting Sands of a Changing Landscape
While the people of Yakutia are largely benefitting from such social and economic global integration, there is a third factor that looms above all else. If we break the repercussions of globalisation into three strands—social, economic, and environmental—it is the latter that is causing people sleepless nights. Here are some reasons why:
- Since 1990, the area of cultivated land in Yakutia has more than halved.
- From 2011 to 2017 alone, cattle herds dropped by 20 percent.
- Between 2005 and 2014, the annual number of days with below-freezing temperatures three feet below ground plummeted by 40.
- Parts of Yakutia have risen by up to 3C over the last 200 years—three times the global average.
It is beyond doubt that the continual rise in non-renewable energy use, driven by global demand for industrial products and services, as well as an ever-increasing number of planes in the air and cars on the road, is responsible for such changes.
Of course, since the gun was first fired in the race to industrialisation, nowhere on the planet has been immune to geological changes. But the changes in Yakutia matter more than most. And this is for one essential reason: permafrost.
The Permafrost Problem
As temperatures rise, permafrost—an underground layer of ice and frozen dirt—gradually thaws, and it keeps thawing until it can no longer support the ground above it. Unsurprisingly permafrost is found across the cold regions of this planet. In Yakutia, though, its composition is icier than in many other regions—a kind of permafrost called Yedoma.
Even less of a surprise, then, is that Yedoma melts far quicker than other kinds of permafrost. When this happens, ancient plant material—and even animal remains—combine to release carbon dioxide into their new, milder climate.
This could have global environmental repercussions, as several hundred billion tons of carbon are stored in such regions. Scientists estimate that the total amount of stored carbon equates to more than half of all human-caused greenhouse gas emissions (including through deforestation) between 1750 and 2011.
However, whether in Yakutsk or the various towns and villages within Yakutia, the immediate damage being caused by thawing permafrost makes carbon emissions something of an afterthought.
A Tale of Two Cities
Permafrost explains why, no matter which part of Yakutsk you are in, you are always alert to the fact that you might bump your head against an overground sewage pipe. And when one of these collapses, well — you do not want to be anywhere near it.
It also explains why, nowadays, more or less the entire city is built on steel stilts. This is for two reasons. For one, it is to ensure a gap between the structure and the earth. In practice, this prevents the transfer of heat that is emitted from the ground floor.
The second reason is to guard against the fact that, unfortunately, the permafrost is thawing anyway. The legs upon which apartment blocks, offices, and shopping centres are built extend up to 40 feet below ground. So when the ground moves, neither should your kitchen floor.
Talk about building your house on a rock.
It is in the more isolated, agriculture-reliant communities of Yakutia where the dangers are most profound—and are already destroying the livelihoods of people.
These communities depend on long winters to hunt, trade goods, and simply to get from one place to another. And as the climate changes, so do animal migration patterns, making cattle herding far more challenging.
They depend on access to clean water, which reduces the more quickly that soil feeds into the thawing ice.
They depend on stable permafrost for their houses and barns to stand. Many families that have lived in the same, humble structures for generations, are having to move to new towns and villages. The constant threat of floods, swamps, and wildfires causes families to face the dilemma of turning their backs on rural life by moving to the city—a place they do not understand, and some have not even visited.
On my visit to the town of Berdigestyakh, roughly 3 hours drive from Yakutsk, I witnessed the task of collecting huge cubes of ice from local rivers and streams and impaling them with a knife.
I saw (and smelt) the process of collecting cow excrement and using it to insulate the wooden barns. The people of Yakutia are used to living alongside nature, in harmony with its ebbs and flows. But these are changes that they can not afford.
Back to Life?
Incredibly, animal remains dating back tens of thousands of years are resurfacing. The severed head of a wolf, which lived more than 30,000 years ago, a cave lion cub, from around 20,000 years earlier, and even an Ice Age woolly rhino, are just a few of the more notable recent discoveries.
While these are exciting ethological findings, the trend is worrying. I have already mentioned the carbon emissions caused by the release of ancient animal and plant material. And though it may be hard to imagine packs of Siberian wolves returning to doom humanity, the combined footprint of these emitters packs a significant punch. But it is not just global warming itself that is causing this to happen—or at least not directly.
This is because people are hunting, not for livestock, but underground, for the valuable remains of woolly mammoths.
The market for mammoth ivory, fuelled by demand from China, is estimated to be worth around £50 million each year. There is not exactly a shortage, either, with approximately 500,000 tons at the mercy of anyone with high-pressure hoses, underwater cameras, and a literal thick skin.
These practices not only expedite the climate crisis in Yakutia. But they also run in stark conflict with sacred Sakha cultural traditions and values. While it is common to display decorated mammoth ivory, for example, this is seen as a way of honouring Sakha history and ensuring that it lives on in the hearts and minds of future generations. But illegally sourcing and shipping their remains is not.
Is it desperation, or is it greed? Have external factors, such as the loss of land, backed people into a corner, and forced them to act? Or does money, and the opportunity to profit from global demand, cause people to put moral principles to one side?
What are the less tangible costs of devaluing items of historical, spiritual, and symbolic value?
I will let you make your own mind up.
Final Thoughts
One of the biggest strengths of the Yakutian people is their ability to adapt to and co-exist with their surroundings. They have been doing it for centuries.
But, today, their options are narrowing. While the lives of city dwellers in Yakutsk are generally improved by globalised processes, the consequences of climate change are causing irreversible damage to the towns and villages around Yakutia, forcing people to make life-changing decisions.
Increasingly, it appears that nature is in control. But this is not true. We all have the capacity to make a difference, no matter how small, to protect those who are the most vulnerable.
I hope this piece has taught you something new about Yakutia.
With thanks to Gena, Elena, and Nadya.
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