Surviving Deportation and Living Through the Ramifications: The Kalmyk Story

Introduction

The Kalmyk deportation, orchestrated by Stalin’s People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs(NKVD) during World War II, stands as one of the most calculated and devastating episodes of Stalinist repression. Code-named “Project Uluses” by Soviet Authorities, the operation targeted the entire Kalmyk population with accusations of collaboration with Nazi forces during the German occupation of the Kalmyk Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic (ASSR). The term Uluses, in Kalmyk, defined as “large regions” or “people,” carries a grim symbolic weight: it underscores clear Soviet intent to obliterate not just the Kalmyk individuals but the entire Kalmyk people.

The Kalmyks are a Buddhist majority ethnic group, descendants of the Oirats, a western Mongol group. 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, 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. The name Kalmyk is derived from the Turkic word “Kalmak,” which means “remnant” or “to remain.” The origins of the word “Kalmyk” were either coined by Turkic peoples to refer to the Oirat Mongols who remained after the majority left in 1771 or to describe the sect of Oirats that, during their stay in southern Russia, did not convert to Islam, unlike many other Turkic and Mongol groups in the region. 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.

That culture and tradition that was being systematically extinguished under Project Ulses. The operation was initiated on December 27th, 1943 by 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, declaring the dissolution of the Kalmyk ASSR and the forced resettlement of its people. The wording of the document was as follows:

1. All Kalmyks living on the territory of the Kalmyk ASSR are to be resettled to other regions of the USSR, and the Kalmyk ASSR is to be liquidated.

The Council of People’s Commissars of the USSR shall allocate land to Kalmyks in new settlement areas and provide them with the necessary state assistance for economic arrangements.

2. To form the Astrakhan Region within the RSFSR with its center in the city of Astrakhan.

To include in the Astrakhan region the districts of the former Kalmyk ASSR Dolbansky, Ketchenerovsky, Lagansky, Privolzhsky, Troitsky, Ulan-Kholsky, Chernozem Sky and Justin Sky and the city of Elista; the districts of the Astrakhan Okrug Vladimirov Sky, Volodarsky, Yenataevsky, Ikryaninsky, Kamyzyaksky, Krasnoyarsk, Narimanov Sky, Kharabalinsky and the city of Astrakhan. The Astrakhan district of the Stalingrad region is to be liquidated.

3. The districts of the former Kalmyk ASSR Malo-Derbetovsky and Sarpinsky shall be included in the Stalingrad region; Zapadny (Bashanta), Yashaltinsky shall be included in the Rostov region; Priyutinsky shall be included in the Stavropol region

The first step of the plan was to deport the Kalmyks living in Elista, the capital of the Kalmyk ASSR, via the Divnoje Railway station. The plan involved using lorries to transport the Kalmyks from Elista to the station, where they would be crammed into train cars. Transportation required 71 cars, “Studebeckers” that had been sold to the USSR by the United States. Soviet officials gave the all-clear to the Soviet 3rd Infantry Regiment to orchestrate the deportation of the Kalmyk people. On December 28, 1943 the regiment received the order to set up registration booths in “Elista-Astrakhan, Elista-Rostov, Elista-Stalingrad and Elista-Stavropol.” That night the raids began. 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.

By early 1944, most of the Kalmyk population had been transported to Siberia. This forced migration claimed thousands of lives, a tragic precursor to the hardships the survivors would face in exile. Entire families were shattered, and the cultural and linguistic fabric of the Kalmyk people was on the brink of irreparable damage. Estimates suggest that over one third of the Kalmyk population perished during this dark period. Once all civilians were relocated, the USSR searched through its own military, sending all active Kalmyk military personnel to relocate to Elista, to be stripped of their position and sent along with their fellow countrymen to the ends of Siberia. The Kalmyk story doesn’t end at the deportation, however. Following this traumatic chapter, Kalmyks immigrated to various countries, forming a strong global diaspora. With the help of individuals and international organizations, they escaped the harsh memories of the Russian steppe and began rebuilding their community, working collectively to recuperate from hidden trauma and revive the forgotten Kalmyk culture. This deportation during Stalin’s era reflects a deliberate Soviet strategy to target specific ethnic groups under the guise of political disloyalty, resulting in profound physiological and cultural consequences. Ultimately, the psychological consequences of the Kalmyk deportation extend beyond the initial event shaping patterns of identity loss and fragmented immigrant communities within the Kalmyk diaspora.

Reasons for Deportation

To understand the consequences of the Kalmyk deportation, one must first examine the Soviet government’s motivations for orchestrating this mass displacement. At the heart of this tragedy lie three key factors that drove Stalin’s campaign of genocide against the Kalmyk people.

Kalmyk Cavalry Corps

In the pre-World War II era, most people in the Kalmyk ASSR were pro-Communist, though many anti-Soviet and anti-Communist groups still existed in the ASSR. These groups gained strength when the Nazis occupied what is today western Kalmkyia. In their campaign to further encroach upon Soviet territory, the Nazis had overextended their supply lines, making them vulnerable to Soviet partisan attacks. In order to protect their supply chains, the Nazi army recruited the local Soviet populace into self-defense units. Tired from years of oppressive rule under an authoritarian Tsar and the subsequent ruling secularism of the Communist regime, the Kalmyks found common cause with the Nazis, viewing their alliance as a shared fight against tyranny. The Nazis successfully enlisted a small group of Kalmyk people, though the majority of Kalmyks battled for Soviet Russia. In September of 1942, the Nazi army recruited a cavalry unit in the Kalmyk ASSR, the Kalmyk Cavalry Corps (KCC), to help guard their supply lines and suppress Soviet partisan activities. The KCC actively participated in the Nazi punitive expeditions against the Kalmyk people in which the KCC contributed to the execution of “close to 20,000 people from the Kalmyk ASSR.” All KCC members were volunteers, including deserters from the Red Army or emigres from the Soviet state, as the Nazis eschewed forced recruitment. By July 1944, the Kalmyk Cavalry Corps had 3,458 horsemen. On paper, the actions of fewer than 5,000 Kalmyks in the KCC was the biggest reason why the Stalinist regime deported over 90,000 Kalymks to Siberia. However, in the first seven months of World War II, more than 20,000 Kalmyk soldiers fought bravely and fiercely on the frontlines on behalf of the Soviets against their Nazi invaders; in fact,”eight Kalmyks [received] awards as Heroes of the Soviet Union for their valor in combat against the Germans,” emphasizing the significant role the Kalymks played on the battlefield. Even after the Nazi invasion, the Kalymk people “collected 7,830,000 rubles to construct a tank battalion named “Soviet Kalmyk” as a gift to the Red Army,” a continued manifestation of their loyalty to the Soviets. Even Red Army soldiers were not safe, as Kalmyk-identifying soldiers and communists were still deported to Siberia. Despite the allegiance of most Kalmyk people to the Red Army, Stalin instead underscored the betrayal of the KCC, using it to rationalize the Kalmyk deportation.

Inclusion of Ethnic Origin in Soviet Passports

The second factor lies in Stalin’s policy of mandating the inclusion of ethnic origin on Soviet passports, a move that allowed for the institutionalization of ethnic segregation and further marginalized minorities. Before the 1930s, Soviet policies deliberately framed the primary conflict in society as a struggle between class enemies. It was a way for the state to pin the blame on the upper class rather than accepting their own failures. However, by the end of the 1930s, class had become less of a contentious subject, as “the class war associated with the revolution had now been won” with the death of the Tsar, and “it was no longer so important to identify ‘class enemies.’” The main contention of class in Soviet society was replaced by nationality, otherwise known as ethnic origin. A Soviet citizen could be easily identified as a minority by checking his or her passport. Individuals without a passport faced significant restrictions, as the 1930s saw the “introduction of mandatory urban registration” in major Soviet cities. If a child had one Russian and one Jewish parent, they often chose Russian for their passport ethnicity because “it was plainly the safest option,” highlighting that being a minority in the Soviet Union was worse than being a Russian. Relatives and passport clerks are even cited as saying,”’Just write Russian[,] [i]t will be easier,’” reflecting Stalin’s racist policies and efforts to erase ethnic diversity from the Soviet Union. During Stalin’s regime, individuals’ ethnicities, as recorded in their passports, became tools for their own systemic oppression, leading to targeted deportations and purges. Being labeled as specific ethnicities became problematic for citizens, including those identifying as Chechen during their forced relocation to Central Asia under Operation Chechevitsa. Similarly, the Crimean Tatars faced mass deportations in 1944, with their ethnicity-labeled passports facilitated their identification and removal. During Stalin’s anti-cosmopolitan campaign in the late 1940s and early 1950s, Jewish individuals were persecuted, with their passports effectively marking them for discrimination. These policies exemplify how Stalin utilized passport ethnicity classifications to systemically segregate and deport groups he deemed undesirable, weaponizing national documentation to enforce ethnic cleansing.

Soviet Secularism

The third main reason for the Kalymk deportation was the Soviet ideology behind atheism. During the 1960s, Soviet society was teeming with secularism, and ideologies that were not Marxist were shunned. Therefore, most Soviets authorities rejected reliance on religious ideologies, believing instead that true creative freedom could only be achieved through their own efforts. The Bolsheviks first developed their anti-religious ideals through a man named Ludwig Feuerbach. Feuerbach “advocated atheism,” and in 1841, published “The Essence of Christianity” a book critiquing Christianity and furthering his anti-religious ideals. In his book, Feuerbach “attempted to demonstrate that whereas men thought that they were worshiping God, they were, in fact, worshiping their own humanity,” accentuating his opposition towards religion. Feuerbach laid the foundation for the “de-sacralization of religion” on which Karl Marx created his own set of agnostic ideologies. Marx reinterpreted from Feuerbach’s teachings that “the true God was indeed Man” and how “it was mankind that should be worshiped”. The hostility Stalin and other Bolsheviks had towards religion derives from these thoughts. Churches were condemned as idealist, and their followers were also denounced due to following idealist principles that counteracted Marxist materialism. Since Buddhism is the dominant religion within the Kalmyk population, this forced elimination of the Kalmyk religion ostracized and angered many Buddhist Kalymks. Despite their historically nomadic lifestyle, Kalmyks still established stationary monasteries (khuruls) and functional mobile temples (kibitka khuruls). The Kalmyks’ deep association of their faith with their identity made them a target for Stalinsit purges and mass deportations. Stalin’s policies not only uprooted the Kalmyks physically but sought to sever their connection to Buddhism. In 1917 the Kalmyk ASSR had “105 monasteries …with 5,270 residents,” and every single one was destroyed before 1941. Lamrimlin Khurul in Tsagan Aman, the first stationery Kalmyk Buddhist Temple, was deconstructed and repurposed for its raw materials symbolizing Soviet efforts to strip away religion in its territories. Religion, as the cornerstone of Kalmyk identity and a pillar of their community, was forcibly stripped away, leaving profound psychological scars on the people as we will see in the next section.

Psychological trauma

In the immediate aftermath of the deportation during the 1940s and 1950s, survivors were subjected to forced labor and cultural isolation. The violent uprooting from their native land, the conditions of the overcrowded train cars, freezing temperatures, and lack of food created an environment conducive to despair and trauma. Research into similar experiences of other deported populations, such as Russian Koreans, has shown that the psychological consequences of such situations extend far beyond the circle of immediate survivors. Survivors’ children internalize unresolved trauma passed on from their parents causing higher levels of stress, a lesser self-identification, and difficulties in trusting others. In trauma studies this phenomenon is called transgenerational trauma. Oral histories with survivors have shown that many went silent about what they had endured, driven by fear of further persecution and cultural norms around silence, emotions and customs commonly experienced by victims of state violence. We know from the literature on Russian Koreans who had also been deported by Stalin that they imposed strict cultural norms emphasizing ‘keeping silence’ about past traumas, illustrating how repression leads to intergenerational silence and the suppression of painful memories. This silence often leaves subsequent generations with fragmented memories and unspoken pain in piecing together their family history. The Bowen Family Systems Theory (BFST), developed by American physicist Murray Bowen, argues that trauma and emotional patterns are transmitted across generations, shaping family dynamics and individual well-being. The Kalmyk experience exemplifies this, as the forced deportation and subsequent hardships left psychological scars that persisted long after resettlement. The suppression of trauma, rather than its acknowledgment, contributed to a cycle of inherited suffering. Tsagana Abbyaeva, a former deported Kalmyk born in 1932, reflects on how she avoided discussing her traumatic past with her family. Her daughter, Saglara Badushov, speaking on her behalf, born 1969, recalls that her mother “didn’t talk much about the deportation and kept a lot inside.” When asked whether she believed she had inherited trauma, she answered with a resounding: “yes.” This silence created a void where pain festered, forcing children to piece together fragmented histories while unconsciously absorbing the weight of unspoken suffering. Without a clear narrative, trauma was internalized rather than processed, reinforcing a cycle in which later generations carried the emotional burden of events they never personally experienced. In an interview with By’in Badushov, daughter of Saglara Badushov and granddaughter of Tsagana Abbyaeva born 2000, she reflects on the experience of her grandmother and says “I feel like [my grandmother’s] trauma was passed down to [my mother] and then to me, not just through stories, but through actions and expressions of emotion.” Had there been open discussions about the deportations, the grief, and the struggles of rebuilding, By’in remarks that “I might have been free of the unconscious unexamined burden.” This highlights the paradox of trauma within displaced communities: the instinct to suppress suffering for survival can, in the long run, deepen its psychological grip.

State vs. Personal Narratives

The Soviet government’s stigma against the Kalmyk people, branding them as traitors and inferiors, deepend their isolation and intensified the psychological burden on younger generations. Research among Russian Koreans, for example, has shown that transgenerational trauma is often reflected in problems concerning one’s own identity. Irina Fan in her research among Russian Koreans, says “[The] children’s parents perceived the deportation through the prism of Soviet propaganda[;] Neither their encounter with repression and deportation … brought these Koreans…to a truthful assessment of the actions of the authorities.” While the Soviet version of history, shaped by propaganda, was readily accessible through the state, it concealed the true extent of past atrocities. Only by contrasting this imposed narrative with inherited cultural memory could Korean individuals uncover the truth about their past, and, in turn, shape their future. Similarly, in the case of the Kalmyks, the state not only downplayed their trauma but also directly facilitated the erasure of Kalmyk identity. In Siberia, many Kalmyk children could not prove to their peers that a people called the Kalmyks existed. The Kalmyks became invisible. The children born to Kalmyk parents after the deportation were not entitled to birth certificates, meaning that travel between countries, job applications, and movement into many cities became impossible for the Kalmyk people. The destruction of the Kalmyk identity through state policy was further reinforced by propaganda. State institutions controlled collective memory by manipulating archives, altering historical curricula for young people, and promoting narratives that framed history solely through the lens of the Soviet people’s collective struggle. Elza Guchinova, in The Politics of History in Russia and Theatricalisation of Traumatic Events, argues that if the Kalmyk people present a “softer” version of their deportation, one that emphasizes friendship with Siberians, then younger generations will perceive late Stalinism in a way that align with the state’s interests. These revised versions of history, crafted to serve Soviet political aims, were disseminated across the country. They propagated the false idea that the deportation of the Kalmyks was a necessary evil, one that, despite its hardships, was part of a broader suffering shared by all Soviet citizens. Such a memory policy suppresses the cultural and historical identity of the Kalmyk people, as their core collective memory becomes overshadowed by the fabricated trauma of the entire Soviet people. This created a cultural alienation and self-doubt especially among younger Kalmyks, unable to understand how to meld this state narrative with family histories.

Beyond that, works by theorist Ron Eyerman explain the role of collective memory in shaping one’s identity. In Ron Eyerman’s Cultural Trauma Slavery and the Formation of the African American Identity, he clarifies how slave terms such as “former slave” or “daughter of slaves” became a collective memory uniting all African Americans in the United States. The self-imposed categorization was meant to “counter, those of the dominant white society” known as “a counter memory.” Similarly the efforts of the Kalmyk diaspora to document and share experiences create a counter-narrative to the official Soviet one. Books like “The Man is Wealthy by his Relatives; He is like a Mighty Tree,” which documents the history of a Kalmyk family, showing the Kalmyk people’s efforts to challenge and resist the dominant Soviet narrative. Not only does such a process preserve their cultural identity, but it also serves as a kind of psychological catharsis for descendants. In an article review of Shadows of Trauma: Memory and the Politics of Postwar Identity by Aleida Assmann, Susanne S. Cammack explains Assmann’s theory on how state versus individual memory offers insight on how people cope with the conflicting narratives. Assmann contrasts political and cultural memory, whereas “political memory relies on historical information to create a unified and instrumental collective identity, cultural memory resists such reductionism” For the Kalmyks, this distinction played out in a way the Soviet regime controlled narratives about their deportation and suffering. Political memory, enforced through propaganda, education, and censorship, framed the deportation as a necessary hardship for the greater Soviet good, minimizing the ethnic persecution at its core. This not only dismissed the trauma of the Kalmyks but also forced survivors into silence, as any acknowledgment of their unique suffering risked being labeled as anti-Soviet. In contrast, cultural memory among the Kalmyks persisted through oral and personal testimonies to preserve their traditions and language. However, because the state actively suppressed these alternative narratives, Kalmyks struggled to find communal validation for their experiences. Their history became fractured, official records denied their suffering, while personal and communal memories told a different, painful truth. This further isolated survivors and made collective healing difficult, as the very act of remembering the truth became an act of resistance.

Loss of Kalmyk Identity

Soviet propaganda also contributed to a Kalmyk cultural amnesia which disregarded or minimized the importance of the atrocity. Elza Guchinova, in her work Visible and Invisible Identity, talks about how the destruction of the Kalmyk native language and religiosity impacted Kalmyk identity. She draws the conclusion that “religion is the opium of the people and by a tendency to domination by the Russian language among ethnic minorities as the language of state power.” The Soviet suppression of the Kalmyk language in favor of Russian and the dismantling of Kalmyk Buddhism in favor of Soviet secularism are stark examples of the Kalmyks’ inherited cultural memory versus the sanitized, bureaucratic narrative presented by the Soviet state. During the deportation, the Soviets propelled a cultural fog that emerged between the older generation, born before the Russian Revolution and who did not speak Russian, and their grandchildren, born before the deportation but fluent in both Russian and Kalmyk. Additionally, the next generation born in Siberia to survivors experienced a profound generational divide. Many of the younger generation thought it was shameful to speak or to be Kalmyk; they refused to learn or could not learn the language. This was exemplified by Stalin’s policy of Russinisation, or sblizhenie, which aimed to assimilate Soviet youth by indoctrinating them with Russian culture, language, and beliefs, forcing them into a collective Soviet identity. In Siberia, where survival took precedence over cultural preservation, the state’s relentless promotion of Russian chauvinism made it easier for many Kalmyks to abandon their heritage in favor of adopting a Russian identity. Even Kalmyk adults deliberately did not speak their native language to fellow Kalmyks for fear of being marginalized. With deteriorating social conditions, starting with the language, the Kalmyk identity began slowly fading. This sort of forced erasure further exacerbated the psychological burden on the Kalmyks because, beyond just trauma, their pain was invalidated and excluded from national discourse. Tsagana Abbyaeva continues on her experience that people who “attempted to voice their experiences were often met with hostility”; thus, suppressing their pain rather than seeking consensus and support. The state’s propaganda extended to reshaping the identity of the deported Kalmyks by systematically destroying their cultural symbols such as Buddhist temples, not only a physical act, but also a psychological one, obliterating a tangible connection to Kalmyk heritage. Monks had renounced their vows and decided to blend into the population, parents only conducted Buddhist practices in the privacy of their homes, and the next generation of Kalmyk children were deciding not to partake in “remnants of the past” in reference to religion. The exiled Kalmyks were under pressure to be assimilated into Soviet society, to adopt the Russian language and customs while suppressing their own traditions. Propaganda created a generational gap within the Kalmyk community. Therein lies another source of psychological distress—the tension between imposed state identity and familial memory, as individuals struggle with questions of belonging and self-perception.

Immigration and Integration Struggles

Where generations of deported Kalmyks were having questions of belonging, different Kalmyk diasporas in Europe, the Americas, and western Germany felt the same effect. The first significant wave of Kalmyk emigration began during the Russian Civil War (1917-1922). Many Kalmyks fought alongside the White Army and fled the advancing Bolshevik forces; nations like Yugoslavia, Czechoslovakia, and France Became flooded with Kalmyk emigres. During World War II, as Nazi forces retreated westward, a second wave of migration followed, consisting of tens of thousands of displaced people, including German civilians and Kalmyks. Many Kalmyks were forced into this migration or joined voluntarily to escape Soviet oppression. After the war, these displaced Kalmyks faced new challenges in postwar Europe. Following the Third Reich’s surrender, the Yalta Conference agreements led to widespread forced Soviet repatriation, where approximately 5.2 million displaced persons, including 90% of the Kalmyks living in Europe, returned to the Soviet Union. The Soviets sought repatriation for ideological and practical means: they needed to repopulate their empty workforce with an entire generation lost in the war and punish Nazi collaborators and Soviet traitors. For many Kalmyks, return meant imprisonment or Siberian deportation, the equivalent of death. Returning to the Soviet Union meant facing the punishment of Stalin’s regime, while remaining in Europe brought its own form of trauma, living as displaced individuals in unfamiliar nations, surrounded by alien cultures and people.

Around 1.2 million people who resisted repatriation found themselves in displaced persons (DP) camps in Western Germany, particularly in the American zone. For those Kalmyks who successfully avoided repatriation, the DP camps in Germany were both a refuge and a site of continued struggle. An organization was established to address the DP crisis by facilitating their resettlement in Western nations. The International Refugee Organization(IRO) worked alongside Kalmyk community leaders in the DP camps and elsewhere in Europe spending years fighting for a way out of the camps. Badma Oulanoff, dubbed the intellectual leader of the Kalmyk diaspora and who had survived the invasion of Northern France after fleeing Czechoslovakia, Sancha Stepanow, a Russian-born lawyer who had been in Prague during the German invasion and ended up in the Ingolstadt DP camp after the war, along with a number of others, founded the Kalmook National Representation in Europe with the goal of lobbying western powers, emphasizing the Kalmyks’ anti-Communist stance and their foreseeable contributions as industrious settlers. Kalmyks and Kalmyk supporters across the globe, convinced the International Refugee Organization to ramp up its efforts to find a nation to admit them. From Canada to Morocco to Pakistan, Kalmyks were rejected entry by over two dozen nations. Former DP Kalmyk, Erinsin Badushov recalls, when he was about four years old, he and his family were ready to “go to Paraguay, [since his] luggage was already stamped for Paraguay.” Kalmyk’s envisioning lives in the United States were also met with grim news. Due to prevailing Asian exclusion laws, Kalmyks were classified as Asian under US immigration law and therefore denied entry. However, in July of 1951, Attorney general J. Howard McGrath, out of a sense that admitting them would reflect favorably on the US’s image during the heat of the Cold War, declared Kalmyks to be racially Asian but legally Caucasian in a Bureau of Immigration Appeals test case argued by the IRO. While not foregoing discrimination, this decision allowed legal free access to Kalmyks to pass through to the United States, making them the only racially colored group to be admitted under a law limited to European refugees. Their access to the United States was one of the last precedent cases for the revocation of Asian exclusion laws under the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952. In preparation for their journey, the IRO transferred the first large contingent of Kalmyks to multiple locations then onto USS General RM Blatchford. The former naval vessel was to transport the DPs to the United States, however, on the day of departure, John J. McCloy, US High Commissioner for Occupied Germany, directed by the US State Department, ordered all Kalmyks removed from the ship. This came to a drastic shock to Kalmyks and the IRO which their refugee camps were set to close in the coming weeks. Due to the Kalmyks’ stateless predicament, the IRO and American non-governmental organizations urged the U.S. State Department to reverse the order. After three grueling days, the decision was overturned so swiftly that it did not delay the migration of any Kalmyks seeking entry into the United States. However, the origin of the order, seemingly at odds with U.S. interests, traced back to a sponsoring organization in the Brethren Service Commission. The Brethren Service, believing it was in their best interest, chose to sponsor the Kalmyks’ journey to bring national attention to their plight and demonstrate their commitment to racial and religious acceptance. Although they had multiple resettlement options available, they temporarily halted the Kalmyks’ arrival for one key reason: they needed more time to secure their preferred settlement location in New Mexico. Although it was not the preferred resettlement choice for either the Brethren Service or the Kalmyk people, it was favored by the United States Displaced Persons Commission, the agency overseeing the DP program and organization the Brethren Service called on for assistance. The Commission was supported in their endeavors by the United States Employment Service, the Department of Agriculture, and the Department of Labor’s Farm Placement Service. Erinsin Badushov remembers being shipped to “New Mexico” because the United States and its agencies “thought us Kalmyks were farmers and could help farm.” Against the wishes of the Kalmyk people and at great inconvenience to them, the Brethren Service halted the Kalmyk migration for three days and rerouted them to New Mexico. In doing so, it demonstrated loyalty not to the displaced people but to the organizations that influenced its decisions. Although many Kalmyks eventually resettled on the East Coast, particularly in New Jersey and Philadelphia, the absence of records in the U.S. State Department and the Displaced Persons Commission highlights the indifference and disregard the United States and its agencies had for displaced and struggling communities.

Integration

Despite finding new homes, Kalmyk emigres continued to grapple with the psychological and cultural impact of displacement. The uncertainty of not knowing if you will be allowed to enter a safe country. The forced separation from Siberian Kalmyks, as DP camp residents didn’t suffer the same hardships as Siberian Kalmyks. Erinsin Badushov, born August 1948, Berlin in an American displaced person camp, recounts his memory of “going and getting milk for [his] family” and having a “tricycle” but besides that “not too much.” While a former Siberian Kalmyk Tsagana Abbyaeva, born 1932, Kalmykia, recalls her memory of the deportation. When she was only eleven years old, the NKVD broke down the door informing her and her family they had “24 hours to leave their homes and were instructed not to take anything with them.” People who did not cooperate “were killed on the spot.” On the way to Siberia they were transported by cattle cars and kids and adults were dying daily. She remembers that “most of [the Kalmyks] got sick on the train, and only a third of the population made it to the final destination” When arriving in Siberia, the people already living there thought the Kalymks were “barbarians” and treated them like “slaves.” Treated like an animal, Tsagana had to stay in a barn to shelter from the cold while working for the leftovers of the locals. Due to the vastly different experiences of the two Kalmyk groups, tensions emerged within the once tightly knit community as increasing numbers of Siberian and DP camp Kalmyks arrived in the United States. The sense of collective trauma and identity that the two groups had in their own environments was now lost in a sea of new information. However, in America, the challenges of assimilation overwhelmed the feelings of difference between Kalmyks. Despite the challenges of resettlement in New Mexico and the hardships of being immigrants in pre-civil rights America, the Kalmyks set aside their historical differences and moved forward together. Small Kalmyk diasporas settled in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, drawn by affordable housing and work opportunities in construction. However, these opportunities were not without significant challenges. Kalmyks, already grappling with the diminishing prevalence of their language within their own community, now had to learn English and adapt to unfamiliar societal norms. They faced prejudice as an Asian minority, despite being legally classified as Caucasian, forcing them to navigate a complex web of cultural and racial dynamics in their new environment. Buddhist temples became vital centers for spiritual and cultural preservation. For example, the establishment of the first Kalmyk Buddhist temple in Howell, New Jersey, Rashi Gempil Ling, provided a place not only for worship but provided a haven where Kalmykse transmitted traditions to younger generations. Social gatherings, language schools, and holidays reinforced a sense of unity, helping the diaspora lift up from the fleeting identity they faced in the Soviet Union and build it back stronger.

Conclusion

The Kalmyk deportation and diaspora serve as a grim reminder of the consequences of state violence and the strength of displaced communities. It is a story not unique to the Kalmyk people, but reflects broader patterns of systemic oppression in global history. The Kalmyk story explains how state policies of cultural erasure and discrimination can reverberate throughout generations. Similar patterns of scapegoating and forced resettlement still haunt marginalized populations today, thus the Kalmyk experience is a cautionary tale about the consequences of unchecked state power. Ultimately, the psychological consequences of the deportation are still felt in modern-day communities, with patterns of identity loss and fragmentation, however, with the knowledge of the past there can be hope for a better future.