On the edge of the Black Sea, the Monument to the Fallen Sailor faces Crimeans commuting between the cities of Simferopol and Yevpatoria. This animated sculpture of three sailors is a disquieting reminder of the sacrifices to drive the Nazis out of Crimea during World War II. The facial characteristics subtly reveal the multi-ethnic heritage of residents on the peninsula — where Russian families have mixed with Ukrainians, Greeks, Jews, Turks, Tatars, Romanians, Germans and Poles since the late 1700s.
This diversity matters as Crimeans vote on a referendum to join the Russian Federation or to remain with Ukraine, albeit with greater autonomy.
With this historical context, many Crimeans find themselves in three cultural currents: An abhorrence of Fascism; the dream of a Russian reunion; more than two generations of successful ethnic integration following World War II. The referendum is bringing these to a head with potentially divisive consequences.
Ten years ago, I traveled in Crimea. I later married the mother of my Crimean interpreter, who became my stepson. Today, I have family members and friendships throughout the peninsula. Lately, I have heard their hopes and their grave concerns.
Regarding Fascism, the losses of World War II and liberation are seared in the consciousness of ethnic Russians who have identified extreme right-wing influences in Ukraine's new government, which they consider neo-Nazi. Even before Kiev's recent violence, Crimeans were troubled by the provocative brinkmanship that marred the efforts of pro-West 2004 Orange Revolution leaders and, later, the pro-East Party of Regions. Each set of leaders has lacked the diplomatic acumen to allay the anxieties of opposing sides.
The latest result: More than 80 dead Ukrainian citizens and a charred future smoldering in Kiev's Maidan Square — the area's birthplace of the Slavic Russian culture.
Consequently, for many Crimeans, enough is enough. They have endured yo-yo policymaking and the East vs. West tug-of-war in Kiev. Now, many want out — permanently. Even the republic's tenuous connection to Ukraine came at the whim of Soviet leader Nikita Khruschev, who was key in ceding it to Ukraine in 1954. For them, now is the time to be reunited with Mother Russia.
Regarding Crimea's ethnic integration, the Autonomous Republic has thrived. Civil unrest is relatively uncommon. Mixed-heritage families and friendships are the norm. An outdated 2001 Ukrainian census breaks down the estimated population of about 2 million as 58 percent ethnic Russian, 24 percent Ukrainian, 12 percent Tatar and the rest of mixed heritage. But these numbers don't reveal, for example, if a mother is Russian and a father is Tatar. Family and community relationships are blurred.
Here's what they have at stake in the referendum:
The ethnic Russian perspective
For them, Crimea is already Russian. Catherine the Great populated it with mostly Russian settlers in the late 1700s following Russia's victory over the Ottoman Turks. This majority of Crimean residents believes Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych was overthrown in a coup — removed by a simple vote of the Rada, Ukraine's parliament, in circumvention of the constitutionally prescribed impeachment procedure. They consider the new prime minister, Arseniy Yatsenyuk, and his cabinet to be illegitimate. Yatsenyuk is willing to accord Crimea greater autonomy, but points to Ukraine's constitution to state that Crimea has no right to self-determination, at least not via a local referendum.
The Ukrainian perspective
If the referendum favors a Russian reunion, Ukrainian nationalists, and other Crimean residents who oppose the plebiscite, will be forced to accept a Russian passport — making them Russian citizens — or reject it and, potentially, become illegal aliens in Crimea. Perplexing decisions could face mixed-heritage families, property and business owners. However, Crimean parliament members claim that pension and welfare benefits, salaries and social services will improve substantially with Russian citizenship.
The Tatar perspective
Anxiousness best describes the present state of mind of this native Turkic-Crimean population, whose ancestors were herded by thousands into boxcars following a 30-minute notification by Stalin's Red Army. Accused of supporting the Nazis, Tatars were ripped away from their nine-century presence in Crimea. For decades they languished in central Asian Soviet republics. Ukraine's independence began the Tatars' reintegration in Crimea with a hope of ethnic tolerance. They, too, would likely face the same conditions as Ukrainian nationals.
If the referendum overwhelmingly favors the will of the people to be reunited with Russia, the winning majority will face two challenges at the onset — condemnation from the West, which, ironically, won't recognize this democratic action, and a fearful minority of Ukranians and Tartars.
What remains to be seen is whether Crimea's ascension to the Russian Federation will preserve the autonomous nature of this republic. How will Mother Russia support Crimea's progress with tolerance and diversity? Local ethnic Russians and parliament members must stand ready to protect the welfare of their Tatar and Ukrainian neighbors as well as their own family members, co-workers and friends.
This will prevent Crimea from becoming another smoldering Kiev — no longer the peaceful peninsula.
Thomas Palmer is the Times Union's editorial design director.