Russia, Ukraine, and the Crimean Cultural Overlap

Note: It has been brought to my attention that the use of the phrase "the Ukraine", with a definite article before the country's name, may be interpreted as an affront to Ukrainian sovereignty--it essentially is referring to the country as "the borderland", a geographic region, rather than a distinct, sovereign state. I have corrected this in my article, to address the country only as "Ukraine". Thank you to the gentleman who corrected me, and for all who are curious about the background, see this article from Business Insider.

The headlines are buzzing about Ukraine, finally giving it extensive coverage due first to civil unrest and now to the mobilization of Russian military forces. Russia's invasion, however, isn't all it's cracked up to be--what's happened bears very little resemblance to the Russian invasion of Georgia in 2008, nor to the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait in 1990, or even the American invasion of Iraq in 2003. In fact, this is hardly an act of international aggression at all, but more an act of passive aggression. Most important to recognize is that the Crimean Peninsula--in Ukraine's far south, jutting into the Black Sea--is inhabited by an ethnically Russian majority, and only in a vague sense has any political bonds to Kiev.

A map illustrating the particularly Russian character of Crimea, as well as other parts of southeastern Ukraine

The linguistic divisions of Ukraine are one thing, and can easily be simplified on a map such as that above--showing a generally gradient part of Russian influence the further southeast one moves. However, this does not tell the whole story--in fact, among several Ukrainian regions, there is a high level of preference for Russian language in larger cities, with more use of Ukrainian in more rural areas. Without any in depth study, this could suggest several things--a tendency for ethnic Russians to be more urban, more successful due to choice of language, or a dominance of Russian language in administrative and business centers. Overall, it also demonstrates that there is not always a consistent grouping of Russian or Ukrainian speakers on a micro scale, as on the macro level suggested in the map above.

For a series of photos that mock the idea of Russian occupation of Crimea being called "shocking", see this album on imgur.com. Indeed, the Russian troops are being welcomed by some. This is certainly no armed conflict or struggle.

The lack of Ukrainian culture in the Crimea has often left its inhabitants considering themselves to be Russian, as well as leaving Russians considering Crimea an extension of their own country--not far fetched, considering it has been so before. Indeed, the Russian Black Sea Fleet is based out of the city of Sevastopol, and has been for many years; Russian military presence there is nothing new on it's own. Award-winning journalist Michael Totten, visiting Crimea in 2009, described its quite Russian character in his book Where the West Ends:

In Sevastopol, once again, I found myself forgetting I wasn’t in Russia. The overwhelming majority of people who live there are Russians. The language they speak is Russian. Actual Russian soldiers and sailors were all over the place.

Totten expanded on the significance of Crimea in Russian and Soviet history, providing a satisfying answer to what many of us may be asking when told that Crimea is essentially a part of Russia already, making its occupation by Russian troops less than shocking. Totten explains:

Crimea is a de-facto independent Russian-speaking republic, but if it weren’t for Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev it would still be part of Russia. In 1954 he moved an internal Russian border around and placed Crimea in Ukraine. It didn’t seem like a fateful decision at the time, one no more significant than giving Idaho a slice of Montana. He had no idea any part of Ukraine, let alone all of it, would ever break loose from Moscow. He should have known it was possible since it had happened before, but he did not see it coming, or at any rate didn’t care, so this Russian-majority region is marooned outside of Russia.

The main difference now is that Russian troops are moving freely throughout the peninsula, controlling highways, airports, and even surrounding a Ukrainian military post and demanding that the Ukrainians lay down their arms and submit to the overtly pro-Russian local authorities.  According to many in the media, this move by the Russian military has the potential to be a stepping-stone for Russian intervention further into Ukraine, in a move to exacerbate the destabilization of a pro-EU, pro-Western government. While the American government threatens vague consequences, and others--such as Poland--staunchly assert their support to Ukraine, it is not likely a full-scale invasion that looms over Ukraine.

While the past two American led coalitions in the Middle East and Central Asian have seen full fledged occupations of entire countries, that is not the game plan in every major power's agenda. For Russian, taking advantage of chaos in Ukraine to make a land grab in the Crimea may be all the gain they required; the installation of a pro-Russia government in Ukraine is certainly another desired outcome, but not something that will beg a major military campaign to accomplish. Very probably, Crimea will remain under Russian control, possibly resulting in a new border, but the rest of Ukraine will remain autonomous on the political map and exist only under the shadow of Russian influence. Though perhaps the unpredictable will occur, it seems an actual war between Ukraine and the heavyweight neighbor to its east is not about to happen.

The Many Armenias

Last month I was in for a visit with the doctor, and before I stepped out I asked him one last question: "Are you from Armenia?" His accent wasn't quite telltale to me, but between an Armenian name that I had an eye for--often ending in "-ian", like the all too well known Kardashians--and a postcard depicting Mount Ararat, my curiosity was piqued. Indeed, he was Armenian, but he was born in Iran. "Farsi baladi?" I asked him in the Iranian tongue, and he amusingly confirmed that yes, he did speak Farsi. I had dated an Iranian girl, I explained, when he asked how I learned, and I explained that I generally have an affinity for languages and had spent time in Beirut studying Arabic before I visited Armenia myself. "My wife is from Beirut!" he exclaimed, mentioning the city's famous Armenian quarter, Bourj Hammoud. And there I was in Southern California, home to perhaps one million Armenian-Americans, discussing Mount Ararat with an Iranian-born Armenian man who was married to a Lebanese-born Armenian woman.

Bourj Hammoud's main avenue (mia-azar.com)

In the 21st Century, there are many Armenias, whether in North America, South America, Europe, or Asia. In days past, however, Armenia was unique in that it had two parts in quite different places, and the Armenian diaspora of today truly begins during this time. While I was living in Beirut in 2011, I quickly heard about the sizable Armenian community there, and before long found myself in Bourj Hammoud exploring the architecture, the posters in strange writing, the different types of food, and the overall atmosphere of the Armenian quarter. My interest only grew from there, and soon I was reading up on just what brought the Armenians to Beirut. Shortly thereafter, I had booked a flight from Beirut to Yerevan, the Armenian capital that sits at the foot of Mount Ararat.

Learning what brought so many Armenians to Beirut was a sobering study. Rather than finding some odd and amusing turn of historical events, I instead as made aware of the grim and brutal Armenian Genocide. The Armenian Genocide was very likely the first time the word "genocide" was applied to any atrocity involving ethnic persecution, and despite its notoriety among Turks--the perpetrators--and Armenians, it seems that few in the West have heard of it, especially considering its position two decades in the shadow of the Nazi Holocaust.

The story of Armenia is a long one, with little known roots in rather well known history. Armenia proper is wedged between the rugged landscapes of eastern Turkey, Northern Iran, Georgia, and Azerbaijan. Armenia’s history is a rich one, with many glorious periods of self-rule and expansion—including Armenian presence on the shores of the Mediterranean, in modern day Syria and Turkey, as early as the first century B.C. The original boundaries of the Armenian nation ran roughly around the three major lakes of the region—Lake Van, Lake Sevan, and Lake Urmia. Today Armenia, is much smaller, but at times it was much larger yet.

My own photo from Yerevan, Armenia, 2011--Mount Ararat the larger peak on the horizon.

Although lying on a distant horizon from such cultural centers as the Levant, Byzantium, and mainland Europe, Armenia set itself up for a crucial role in history by becoming the first kingdom to adopt Christianity as its official religion. By the time the Roman Empire had split, leaving the Byzantine Empire to rule the east, Armenia gravitated toward the Christian capital on the Bosphorus and became an object of contention as empires wrestled for control of Anatolia, the Caucasus, and the Middle East. Armenians continued to migrate toward the Mediterranean, and soon the Kingdom of Cilicia became a center of Armenian culture and Christian civilization in lieu of the Armenian kingdom in the east, which came under tight Islamic rule.

By the time of the Crusades, there were two Armenias. The western kingdom, in Cilicia, became a strong ally of the Crusaders and their kingdoms, and as a result the state became fully autonomous—free of political control from Byzantium as well as military threat from Arab Muslims. Despite playing a crucial role in enabling and supporting the Crusades, Armenia failed to keep its foothold. The Egyptian Mamluks brought turmoil to the region, and Cilicia soon found itself under Muslim rule, or that of the prince of Cyprus at different times. 

(aghtamar.org)

Weakened, with political power offshore or abroad, the kingdom later fell victim to the sweeping conquest of Tamerlane. Turks began to move in, and Armenians were forced out, thus initiating a diaspora within a diaspora. The wealthy fled to Cyprus and Western Europe; others spread through the near east and even remained in Cilicia. The sun had set on Armenia’s period of expansion, and soon both the eastern and western parts were under Ottoman rule. Meanwhile, Armenians had settled in such far flung places as Amsterdam, Calcutta, Singapore, and Ethiopia in pursuit of opportunity, fortune, and serenity.

At the turn of the 20^th Century, the Armenian Diaspora was taking on its modern appearance, driven by the rule of Ottoman Turks that brought religious and ethnic discrimination to a Christian people in a Muslim realm. Ottoman rule would cause the first major wave of modern dispersion; the Armenian genocide would be next, followed by the fall of the Soviet Union.

The Armenian Genocide itself took place over many years, but it’s beginnings, like other genocides, were in radical political ideals incorporating totalitarian nationalism, racism, and xenophobia. In the late 1800s, an Armenian push for more political and religious freedom was met on several occasions with repressive violence. Tension between ethnic Armenians and the Ottoman government was cultivated in the years leading up to World War I, and Armenia, alongside several other Ottoman fringe territories, became to lean toward open rebellion and dissent. In an eerie parallel to the policies of Nazi Germany, the Ottomans passed vague legislation in the name of security that allowed for resettlement and deportation of Armenians who threatened the empire. As Turkey entered World War I, many Armenians saw salvation in the Allied forces, particularly in the potential of Russia to defeat the Turks in the Caucasus and Black Sea region. As a result, the overt actions of some Armenians led to a brutal state-sanctioned reaction by the Ottomans, and deportations began en masse.

One of the more mild images of the Armenian genocide--Turks marching deportees to the desert, and to death. (telegraph.co.uk)

Armenians first began to lose their property and wealth, then faced exile. Long marches through the unforgiving Syrian desert became a staple policy. The Three Pashas, who had become the ruling triumvirate of the empire, began a campaign of atrocity as their solution to what was being called “the Armenian Question”. Diplomats from America, Germany, and beyond were witness to the Turkish treatment of the Armenians, and were quite aware of the greater plan of “Turkification” of the Ottoman Empire. At the same time, Turkish intellectuals were debating methods of purifying Turkish language—removing Arabic and Persian terms, among others, in order to create a language that was free of outside taints. Such thinking, again, is indicative of a radical and xenophobic sentiment that was infiltrating the Turkish psyche.

Soon the Armenian population of the Ottoman Empire shrank from almost 2 million to less than 400,000—with 1.5 million not just deported, but many of them killed in what would later be deemed a genocide. By the time the Ottoman Empire had completely dissolved as a result of defeat in World War I, the Republic of Turkey was all that remained—with a nearly non-existent Armenian population. Those who survived did so mostly outside the newly formed republic, in nearby places such as Russia, the Balkans, Greater Syria, and the nascent Armenian republic to the east. This small Armenian state was at war with Turkey almost immediately, before being annexed by the Soviet Union in 1922.

(Wikimedia Commons)

The Armenian people were once again beaten, stateless, and spread thin. In 1935, William Saroyan, an American writer and son of Armenian immigrants, synopsized the enduring Armenian spirit:

"I should like to see any power of the world destroy this race, this small tribe of unimportant people, whose history is ended, whose wars have been fought and lost, whose structures have crumbled, whose literature is unread, whose prayers are no longer answered.... For when two of them meet anywhere in the world, see if they will not create a new Armenia!"

Indeed, Saroyan’s own parents had arrived in the United States in 1905 from the Ottoman Empire, and settled in California. Major American cities saw Armenian influx before World War I, then after, as refugees fled Ottoman oppression. After World War II, Armenians abroad returned to the new Soviet Armenia in some cases, while others continue to go west to Europe and the US. Beirut, however, remained the primary recipient city of Armenian migrants. Beirut’s proximity to the Armenian Genocide meant that many Armenians arrived on foot from the Syrian desert, and the foundation of communities in such places as the Bourj Hammoud neighborhood or the city of Anjar formed a cultural gravity in Lebanon that continued to draw Armenian immigrants to join the gathering masses.

In 1975, civil war broke out in Lebanon, and over the next fifteen years Beirut would be rattled and broken by sectarian violence. The Armenian community, unlike the native Lebanese, saw little reason to become invested in the conflict and aimed for neutrality. However, many saw emigration as their best option, and these Armenians left Lebanon for the United States, many arriving in California and what is now known as Little Armenia. 

After this wave of the Armenian Diaspora, another followed as the Soviet Union withered in the 1980s. In 1991, upon the fall of the Soviet Union, the Republic of Armenia became an independent state—but few Armenians rushed back. The myriad expats worldwide expressed skepticism at the Russified culture and government of the oldest Armenian homeland, while many others—a majority—had no knowledge of family history in this Armenia, but rather only in western Armenia, the Ottoman Empire, Lebanon, and Cilicia.

Map of the modern day Armenian Diaspora. (Wikimedia Commons)

The result of centuries upon centuries of cultural dispersion is an Armenian Diaspora that exists today in many Armenias. Whether it is in California’s busiest cities, along the banks of the Seine, the Georgian countryside, the sprawling metropolis of Moscow, or at the edge of the world in Argentina, Armenians have spread far and wide with little desire to return to a long lost home—if it even exists. Thus is it a plausible story that an Iranian born man found a cultural connection to his Lebanese born wife, has visited the forsaken slopes of Mount Ararat, brought home a postcard, immigrated to the United States, and still calls himself an Armenian. 

Truly, home is where you make it in the case of the Armenian Diaspora, and being Armenian in a too big world is something unique. As 20^th Century Armenian writer Gostan Zarian put it, “Being an Armenian is a merciless task and a heroic enterprise. It is a commandment, a mission, and a destiny that history has imposed on us from the depths of centuries. We are the shock troops of the struggle between light and darkness… And we are charged with an awesome responsibility.”

Old Ambitions, New Ambitions - The Nicaraguan Canal

My trip to the Panama Canal Zone, 2009

In the 1500s, Spanish conquistadors were well aware of the value of a canal across the isthmus-like features of Central of America; by 1853, the idea of a canal linking the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean via Central America was already alive and breathing. An attempt had already been made over twenty years earlier to build such a structure via Lake Nicaragua, and in 1849 a deal had been made by the nascent country of Nicaragua to make a second attempt over the next twenty-five years. A land transit route was made, and the US government was surveying Nicaraguan geography in preparation for the water route by the 1870s.

However, throughout the 1800s Nicaragua was politically unstable, being disunited by geography and loyalties, as well as torn apart by the pull of colonial powers and businesses. It's president in the 1850s--William Walker--was an American who sought to develop and exploit Nicaragua's resources, while part of the Atlantic coast was claimed by the British Empire and wasn't ceded until nearer to the end of the century. By 1900, Nicaragua had some semblance of unity under President Jose Santos Zelaya--but within a decade rebellion was in full swing, with American military backing. Interest in a canal across Nicaragua, linking into Lake Nicaragua, seemed geographically feasible, but the division of the country and the strife that such divisions manifested left the idea beyond reality. Meanwhile, the United States took over French construction on the Panama Canal in 1904, and one thousand ships passed through it by the end of 1914.

The prosperity brought by the Panama Canal seemed to signal a victory for the US, an end to the race for Caribbean economic hegemony and domination of maritime trade between the two hemispheres. History unfolds in surprising ways, as always, and looking back from 2014 to 1914 we see that Panama itself was ridden with strife, dictatorship, and eventually became independent of the United States and took control of its own canal and the political power it carries. The Panama Canal exists today as a neutral zone guaranteed by the American-Panamanian treaty of 1977, but neutrality is a benefit to some and a boon to others.

From the Toronto Star, September 2013

A monopoly on the convenient maritime transit between the Atlantic and the Pacific is enough on its own to birth competition--for Colombia, to the south, it is a rail route running east to west, and for Nicaragua it is the resurrection of its own canal ambitions. While Panama is seeking a $5 billion expansion of its 33.5 meter wide canal to better accommodate traffic, Nicaragua has a private Chinese investor looking to begin a $40 billion project in 2014 to build a more direct, deeper, and wider canal that has the potential to blow the Panama Canal out of the water, so to speak.

The Nicaraguan government has given the Hong Kong Nicaragua Canal Development Investment Company (HKND) a 50 year contract for the project, with ports, railways, an oil pipeline, and airports as part of the planned development. Chinese entrepreneur Wang Jing is the man behind the project, and is prepared to face the challenge of the canal's development. Many of the challenges are unique to the 21st Century--environmental lobbies, American opposition to Chinese competition, and the diplomatic climate within Latin America. These sit beside the concept of American hegemony in general in the Caribbean region, as well as the threat of hurricanes an earthquakes along the proposed Nicaraguan route. However, the proposal is an attractive one to investors and clients alike, as it allows for transit of much larger modern ships, with an 800km reduction in travel distance between New York and California by ship, as opposed to the Panamanian route.

Several of the proposed routes, with the river systems on the east side and Rivas on the western isthmus near Brito

Cutting across around 190km of Nicaragua's land, joining with rivers, then cutting through the isthmus at Rivas on the Pacific side of the country, this canal would do more than just change the landscape of Panama. Most Nicaraguans are supportive of the plan, realizing that it would bring the potential for vast economic growth and advancement to the Western Hemisphere's second poorest country. The investment required for the project is more than three times the size of Nicaragua's GDP as it stands, and would lift the country out of poverty and leave it as one of the wealthiest--rather than almost the poorest--of all its neighbors.

"This canal has been talked about for hundreds of years ... Spain wanted to build it five hundred years ago, but then the Panama Canal was built a hundred years ago. This time, in the 21st century, it was me who took the initiative," said Wang Jing in 2013. Nicaraguan President Manuel Ortega approved the project, and the Nicaraguan courts have affirmed its constitutionality--with construction planned for late 2014, the success of the project lies no longer in a gauge of its feasibility, but now in a the measure of its progress in coming years.

From Silk Road to Steel Road: The Trans-Asian Railway

Photo From CNN.com

A quick glance at the map, with both the modern era and centuries past in mind, is all it takes to confirm that the most flourishing cities of human civilization tend to gravitate toward coastlines and their seaports. Commercial success in places like Venice, New York, Lisbon, and Hong Kong were the result of a long history of maritime trade coupled with ideal geography. The world's hinterlands, whether deep in the North American Rockies, the Pampas, Patagonia, and high deserts of inner Argentina, or the sparsely populated interiors of Russia or Australia, are all areas that were only delicately penetrated by traders, pioneers, explorers, and any other harbingers of mass migration and expansion. The isolation of these lands from the coast, and the long journeys required on foot or meager vehicles, stood as obstacles in stark contrast to the swift travel on coastal and high seas as well as the introduction of canals that let ships come inland.

In 1829, the steam engine was introduced, and from that year onward the world was transformed by the potential of railways to carry men and goods across vast expanses of land like never before. By 1900, the map of the world was greatly affected by the revolutionary relationship between rail, commerce, and empires. In 2014, new railroads still offer powerful possibilities for the peoples, governments, and economies of Central Asia that lie straddled between economic superpowers on the coasts. While the Silk Road once tied together trade from east to west, it is now a Steel Road that offers a new future through conflict ridden and downtrodden lands.

The Trans-Siberian Railroad is well known term that symbolizes the very geography of Russia--stretching from east to west in a curious way that leaves it with one foot in Europe and one in Asia. However, the sprawling geography of Asia should not be oversimplified, as the Trans-Siberian railroad is also a sort of yardstick, along which can be measured a changing spectrum of culture, geography, and history from the Asian west to east. Additionally, the idea of such a west to east line draws attention away from the existence of porous states and societies running north to south, with less homogeneity between themselves than there may be across the Russified northern expanse called Siberia. Indeed, what lies to the south of Siberia is a myriad of cultures and states.

The Trans-Siberian Railroad - Photo from TransSib.ru

Furthest west, in the Caucasus region, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan sit on the frontier of several regions, essentially a pivot point between Europe, the Middle East, Central Asia, and Russia itself. Across the Caspian Sea, Turkic speaking peoples inhabit a variety of countries ending in "-stan", a Persian term denoting a place or land. Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Kyrgyzstan are all former Soviet Republics which are enjoying a novel independence while sitting upon  wealth of mineral resources, oil and gas, not to mention potential rail routes that could compete with the Russian hegemony to the north or sea routes to the south. The Persian legacy persists in Tajikistan as well as Iran itself, both rugged countries with abundant resources, the latter being a massive producer of oil and natural gas as well as a highly structured society that is a powerful exporter of culture and politics. Finally, Pakistan and Afghanistan serve as buffers, extensions, and wildlands between the economic hubs in Indian, China, Iran, and Russia, with their own potential in oil and minerals as well as trade routes.

Adding Europe and even the Middle East to this list of economic hubs illustrates the concept of transporting goods and resources between them. In such a wild interior, only a handful of trade routes exist in the form of roads, pipelines, limited waterways, and railways. By the end of the 1990s, the void left by the collapse of the Soviet Union and its satellite states was being filled by resurgent economic growth as well as an influx of outside aid and investment into the Asian interior. the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (ESCAP) eventually developed a forward looking plan based off of dozens of individual studies for a Trans-Asian Railway (TAR), including concepts for both north-south and east-west networks.

ESCAP determined a group of specific criteria for the railroad's routes and endpoints. These include "capital to capital links (for international transport) ... connections to main industrial and agricultural centres ... to major sea and river ports ... to major container terminals and depots". Much of the railway infrastructure exists already, but a map was produced showing a complete plan for the major east-west links after the gaps were filled in. Fundamentally, this map demonstrates a plan to offer maritime economies access into the Central Asian and Caspian region--with Iran, Russia, China, and all having independent links to the interior without sharing ports of entry. India, however, remains limited by its need to cross through Pakistan, an unstable neighbor, and by the limited development in Afghanistan leaving no rail links to the bustling economies further north. Europe as well is limited by access through the Ukraine, and hence Russia, or else through Turkey or the Black Sea region. Both of these are simple misfortunes of geography, as Afghanistan remains difficult to develop as well as unstable due to the rugged Hindu Kush range, while the division of Western Europe from Central Asia is due to desert, sea, or mountain barriers that foster instability in the Middle East and the Caucasus.

From ESCAP's report on Development of the Trans-Asian Railway

The development of multiple railways will primarily benefit the Central Asian republics, giving them more direct control over who they sell and ship resources to, rather than having to exclusively export through Russia, China, Iran, or whichever neighbor offers the best transport. Mongolia, for example, benefits economically, but also has little say in its trade with China, as the Chinese government builds highways stretching up to the Mongolian border thus offering routes for mineral exports. Kazakhstan, with rich deposits of oil and gas in its west and minerals in the east, can find clients in every direction as it continues to develop. The key function of these new railways is to fill in the gaps in the interior, using specific routes through the high mountains of the continental interior. Railways can rarely support more then a four percent grade, thus making routes though rugged mountain ranges and foothills meticulous but possible. More limiting, however, is that freight trains are challenged beyond a one percent grade--thus, despite the open and empty wilderness of Central Asia, the new rail routes are still particularly few and undetermined.

Rail development has particularly accelerated on a micro-level scale, and the remaining feat is to simply link existing networks. Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Kazakhstan all require junctions to one another and hence increased access to China and Iran, while China itself would be connected overall to Europe by linking these networks. In the Caucasus region, Georgian and Azeri networks connecting to Turkey--and hence Europe--offer a way around dependence on the Russian rail networks, and can bring economic development to the poorer regions of Georgia and even Armenia. Iran, as well, would find better access to the Caucasus as a result of such development. Russian trade is what is truly at risk, as Russian has a long land border with resource-rich Central Asian countries rather than a plethora of seaports with access to maritime routes like Iran, India, and China do as they look to the south and the east.

From the Afghan Ministry of Public Works

Curiously, the missing link lies in Afghanistan. The US-led coalition in Afghanistan has a chief goal of establishing stable Afghan self-governance and sovereignty, but this is less an economic goal than a moral one. The beneficiaries of such stability are those countries that would find railway access accompanying peace--countries like Iran, China, and India, who can access to Europe and one another via a potential rail link in Afghanistan. Thus, as the US considers the feasibility of stabilizing Afghanistan, these other countries are poised for economic intervention and participation despite their lack of military commitment. Current routes in Afghanistan stretch across the north from the Iranian border in the east, at Herat, to the Uzbek border in the north, and then from the Uzbek border across the east to the Pakistani border in the south.

These Afghan routes current support a small amount of trade, but require expansion to support anything of significant volume. While Chinese and Indian companies are beginning to extract copper and iron from large deposits found in Afghanistan, the funds to support a drastic railway construction project are still still difficult to come across. While Kazakhstan, with it's own sizable pools of natural resources, is able to generate its own funds as well as attract outside investment, Afghanistan struggles primarily due to the threat of government collapse and ongoing civil war. In theory, Afghanistan has much to offer as a crossroads as well as a source of mineral wealth, but in reality it is nothing more than a risky investment.

Part of the newest railway in Afghanistan - Photo by the American Embassy in Kabul

The overall idea of rail development in Central Asia is paradox--while railways will bring about stability, wealth, and improved international and intercultural relations, the lack of those very things is what limits railroad expansion. In addition, geography, while conquerable, is a towering obstacle in the face of economic and human development. The mountains and culture of Central Asian are stalwart, and the connection of coastal powers through a taming of the interior may prove difficult in the decades to come just as it was ephemeral for empires of trade and ideology of the modern and ancient eras. As development continues in much of Central Asia, it is Afghanistan that has become--and will remain--the crucible of globalization on land.

The Seven Sister Cities

The concept of sister cities is meant to propagate an international sense of friendship, cooperation, and community. The idea was born in the years following the Second World War, and today has proliferated across the globe bringing together cities small and large. Most major Americans have a sister city, some due to economic ties, some due to cultural ties. For the avid traveler, these sister cities can be alluring destination both close to home and far, far away. While there are truly few places to which the adventurous should never travel, there are seven pairs of sister cities that serve as especially magnificent pairs of American cities and foreign counterparts for those in search of wonder and awe. These are them.

1. Eugene, Oregon / Kathmandu, Nepal

While not Oregon's most famous city, Eugene is an outdoors paradise with a bit of flower child flair. With only a short drive west to the Oregon coast, and a short drive east to the Oregon Cascades, Eugene offers access to a plethora of adventure ranging from rafting to skiing to surfing--or good old beer drinking. A college town, Eugene is the birthplace of Nike, home to the University of Oregon, and a shining example of an outdoors paradise. It's sister city offers much of the same, but on a gargantuan scale. Kathmandu lies in a relatively low valley of Nepal, but offers unbeatable access to the world's most majestic mountains--the Himalaya. Within a day's travel are peaks as famous as Annapurna and Everest, as well as dozens more you've never heard of but don't want to miss. While not the microbrew rich, student inhabited mecca that Eugene may be, Kathmandu has a fascinating cultural appeal that drew those flower children just the same. As a bonus, you may want to try the Everest Beer ("It's Our Beer").

2. Bellingham, Washington / Punta Arenas, Republic of Chile

Bellingham is no Seattle, just as Eugene is no Portland, but it is still a college town, a port city, and rests in the shadow of one of America's greatest peaks. Home to Western Washington University and the American Alpine Institute, Bellingham is only a short distance from the towering Mount Baker and the pristine wilderness of Skagit country and North Cascades National Park. Follow the North Cascades Highway east and watch civilization fade away while the peaks yawn toward the clouds. Mount Baker ski area holds the world record for the most annual snowfall at a ski resort, at a whopping ninety-five feet. The city is known for its history as a port as well as its connection to inland logging. A float on Bellingham Bay offers incredible mountain views of both the Cascades and the Olympics, while a further trip to the San Juan Islands is prime for whale watching. Meanwhile, just a few hairs away from the South Pole--in a rough estimate--Punta Arenas, Chile offers a similar atmosphere with a different cultural flare. Magellan's famous circumnavigation of the globe gives the Magellan Straight its name, and Punta Arenas lies right along his route. Chile's Antarctic region--as they claim in--looks to Punta Arenas as its capital, while Patagonia lies not far off either. The world famous Torres del Paine National Park, home of the magnificent Patagonian towers, is only a few hours away at most by land, sea, or air, offering the best access of any city in South America. A city that was once a capital for both shepherds and sailors, today it is simply an anomaly among ports for its positioning between some of the most wondrous spots in the world. Skiing, boating, cruises to Antarctica, visits to penguin colonies on Isla Magdalena, and a short voyage to the southernmost point of South America are all on the agenda for any visitor to this portam australem.

3. Juneau, Alaska / Vladivostok, Russian Federation














Welcome to the last frontier--a term that applies equally to the American state of Alaska or the far eastern Russian outpost of Vladivostok. Juneau is the main city on Alaska's marine highway, accessible by ship from far north and far south. A destination for ferries, cruise liners, and pontoon planes alike, Juneau offers a taste of what the greater mainland of Alaska has to offer. Kayaking, whale watching, skiing across the water at Eaglecrest, or excursions to the Mendenhall Glacier just thirteen miles out of town, there is little that the area can't use to lure the outdoors enthusiast to its shores. Cold and wet, it is still the warmest and most temperate of Alaska's main settlements. And not to be forgotten, Juneau is the home of the Alaskan Brewing Company, a familiar site in any beer aisle. Across the Pacific, Vladivostok is something even more remote and strange. In Russia's far east, it is no surprise that this city has both historical and modern connections with many cultures. It's climate is shared with China's Manchurian territory, and by sea Vladivostok is linked to Japan and South Korea. Vladivostok is the final stop of the Trans-Siberian Railroad, and like Juneau offers a similar taste of what lies further into the hinterland. A historic center of Russian maritime trade and power, Vladivostok today is a replete with looming harbors, grand bridges, and enduring Soviet architecture. Around the city are more Russian islands, and access to desolate volcanic mountains that are a destination for explorers, heli-skiing, fishing, and adventuring into the unknown. And don't forget to sample the vodka--it is Russia, after all.

4. Cody, Wyoming / Lanchkhuti, Georgian Republic

Cody, Wyoming, while perhaps a backwater town in the minds of many, has a strong connection to the echoing legacy of the culture of the American West. Buffalo Bill Cody was famous for his exploits out west, being a bison hunter and old fashioned cowboy. Later, Buffalo Bill would tour the world with his wild west shows, and be a central figure in the founding of his namesake town on the edge of Yellowstone National Park. Cody is still full of wild west spirit, while also a lesser known outdoor sports paradise. Heading west, any visitor will soon enter Yellowstone via the Fishing Bridge Entrance, after passing the South Fork area that is famous for its ice climbing--an fishing, of course. In the heart of grizzly bear country, and in the center of the historic American Indian country, Cody offers a powerful look into life past and present on the frontier. Enjoy a steak downtown, a snowmobile ride up past the Chief Joseph Highway, or a grand tour of the country's oldest national park. Meanwhile, Cody's sister city in the Caucasus has its own story. Lanchkhuti, Georgia is a small town in Georgia's western Guria province, situated at the base of the majestic Caucasus Mountains and alongside the Black Sea. While Yellowstone is a short trip from Cody, Lanchkhuti offers access to Kholketi National Park. Kholketi is known for its wetlands and rivers, as it lies in a coastal plain between sea and peaks. The Caucasus, and isolated towns such as Mestia, give this area a beautiful backdrop, while ancient structures permeate the landscape as relics of Georgia's fascinating but little known history as a link between Europe and Central Asia. Georgia, like Wyoming, lies on a frontier, as it is the last country of the European Union before the world becomes Asia, and hosts a culture that is more rugged and unchanged than its better known cohorts. Cody has its cabins and cowboys, and Lanchkhuti offers its own mountains, monasteries, and windswept vistas.

5. Flagstaff, Arizona / Blue Mountains, Australia

Flagstaff, Arizona is not the typical image of Arizona, with flat desert and cactus. Instead, Flagstaff is a small city, host to Northern Arizona University, at nearly seven thousand feet--on the edge of the San Francisco Mountains and just a short jaunt from Sedona and the Grand Canyon. Rock formations are abound in this beautiful area, and outdoor sports such as rock climbing, mountain climbing, and even skiing at Arizona Snowbowl are easily enjoyed. Several naturally formed nationally monuments are nearby, such as Wakputi, Walnut Canyon, Natural Bridges, and Sunset Crater. The famous Route 66 also runs through Flagstaff, and into the desert further east. Blue Mountains, Australia parallels Flagstaff with it's own rock formations and scenic vistas. Impenetrable to early European explorers, the Blue Mountains region was home to many aboriginal Australians, and today still pays homage to their legacy. Several towns lie within the Blue Mountains, and Blue Mountains National Park generally defines the whole area. A short distance from Sydney, Blue Mountains offers a complete change from the coastal scenery of Australia's best known metropolis and remarkable natural beauty for anywhere in the world. Blue Mountains features some of the most extreme rock climbing in Australia, while also offering the casual hiker a run for her money. Canyoning is also popular, and is an activity offered by many guide companies in the area. While not as remote as the Outback and far off Australian destinations such as Ayers Rock, also known as Uluru, Blue Mountains is sure to offer a rush of an outdoors experience to any visitor n Australia.

6. Snowbird, Utah / Zermatt, Switzerland

Utah hosts some of the best skiing in North America; Switzerland some of the best skiing in Europe. Between Snowbird and Zermatt, one can thus find the pinnacle of skiing worldwide. Snowbird shares a small valley with the town of Alta, Utah, and since its settlement in the late 1800s has grown from a mining destination to one of the best powder spots on the continent. Trailing only Mount Baker, Washington, Snowbird benefits from the climactic effects of the Great Salt Lake, as well as the magnificent access to its slopes from Salt Lake City, less than thirty miles away. Glorious in every season for the hiker, climber, skier, and sightseer, Snowbird boasts granite peaks and fluffy snow that backs the "Ski Utah!" motto seen on many a license plate. Relying mainly on skiing itself for industry--not tourism or real estate--Snowbird is less resort than it is simply peaks and slope. This mountain town offers a true taste of Rocky Mountain shredding, and despite the snowmobiling, snowshoeing, and other sports that may fit into its image, skiing is the true theme here. Zermatt offers nothing less, if not more. A town almost completely void of cars, Zermatt is situated below the world famous Matterhorn, one of the most difficult and last peaks to be climbed in Europe. Monte Rosa, Switzerland's highest summit, is also close by. Furthermore, most of the Alps' highest peaks lie in the area surrounding Zermatt's Matter Valley, making it no surprise that this is the mountaineering capital of Europe. But even if you aren't a skier or mountaineer, Zermatt is a top notch destination for camping, hiking, and even sampling Swiss cuisine like fondue and rabbit fillet. Not far from the Italian border and its own quaint alpine villages, Zermatt is a true world destination and offers more beauty than you can bargain for, without a doubt.

7. Boulder, Colorado / Lhasa, Tibet, People's Republic of China

The final two sister cities on the list are both well known and yet exist in completely different atmospheres. Boulder, Colorado, just outside Denver, is an outdoors Mecca, a full spectrum college town, and is host to a very liberal society. Lhasa, Tibet has been shackled and subdued by decades of Chinese occupation, and despite such a totalitarian setting is still the home of a world famous religious movement--Tibetan Buddhism--and the site of breathtaking scenery and architecture on one of the world's highest plateaus. Boulder is home to many Tibetan refugees and immigrants, as is obvious quickly on a stroll through the city. Juxtaposed with this cultural variety is the University of Colorado and the Boulder counterculture that makes it famous. Set in the forefront of the Coloradoo Flatirons and the Front Range, Boulder is a young city--younger than the national average in the US--and a bustling one, with both culture and business burgeoning. With now-legal Colorado mairjuana, not much has changed in Boulder, but what is important is what stays the same. The music scene, the outdoors sports, the artistic community, and a people-friendly town that offers almost sixty percent of its space as open to the public. Lhasa, meanwhile, has much that also remains the same despite a rough history. It's famous monuments such as the Jokhang Temple and the Potala Palace are as stunning now as they must have been over the centuries. Trekking is the name of the game, and mountaineering offers the daring some exhilarating ascents on some of Asia's higher peaks. Tea, incense, monasteries, and raw Tibetan culture are all as integral to the experience as the Chinese grip on the region, while the history offers insight into how much has changed in the people despite the steadfast scenery. Accessible through tours and a tricky visa from either Nepal or major cities of China, Lhasa offers far more than the trouble to get there may take away--and is even home to the "beer from the roof of the world", Lhasa Beer. Indeed, there is something for everyone, whether it is the beer drinker, the alpinist, or the seeker.

In Search of Summits - The Enigmatic History of Inca Mountaineering

(painting by Ned M. Seidler)

By the 1860s, European exploration of the Himalaya had resulted in dozens of successful summit attempts of peaks over 20,000 feet. These expeditions went into the history books as world records for the highest points ever reached by man, but the audience for such stories lay mostly in European and American society, and the colonies that were their extensions. While history is not only written by the victors, however, it is also enduring only for those who manage to write it down to begin with. Over three centuries before these mighty Himalayan ascents, another civilization was reaching for the highest points on their continent--but while mountaineering was alive and well, writing was an alien concept. The Inca Empire, spanning the length of the Andes, occupied not just the east, west, north, and south of this region--but the span of its vertical as well. The Incas had reached the summit of sixteen major Andean peaks by the 1500s, and may very well have reached the top of South America's highest summit on Aconcagua.

Part of the chain of Andean volcanoes

The discovery of an Inca mummy at just over 17,000 feet, on one of the ridges leading to the summit of Aconcagua, is what most strongly suggests their ascent. Additionally, stone structures and archaeological sites have been discovered at around 20,000 feet in dozens of cases, occurring mostly in the chain of Andean volcanoes that runs along the Chilean and Argentine borders above the high and barren deserts, and into Bolivia and Peru. As far north as Ecuador, these structures exist at up to 16,000 feet. Any Inca records of activity at these altitudes are either non-existent or locked in another mystery of the vanquished civilization--the Inca quipu.

The quipu is a system of complex knots created by the Incas, originally thought to be used for numerical purposes. The quipu seems to used a seven bit binary system, similar to modern computers using a ten bit system in order to display data. The quipu numbers varied depending on the size of the knot, the color, the spacing between knots, and then a continuation of these knots on several cords. More recent analysis of the quipu, however, suggests that it may have been used to carry more than just purely numerical information. Once more like the modern use of base ten binary systems to carry computer data, the base seven quipu could have been a system of recording stories and records. One estimate suggests that the quipu provided up to 1,500 individual symbols which could be used to construct a form of written records in numerical code--a number that is comparable to Egyptian hieroglyphics and Sumerian cuneiform.

Inca quipu

The link between Inca mountaineering and the Inca quipu lies in the possibility of recorded ascents, burials, ceremonies, or other activities at altitude. This link remains, empirically, a fantasy, because despite what is known about the numerical workings of the Inca quipu, there is no existing way to infer any linguistic meaning from their code. In essence, the missing piece is an Inca "Rosetta Stone" that will open up access to Inca records in the same way that the original Rosetta Stone gave scholars a way to finally translate Egyptian hieroglyphics. The fantasy goes even further in assuming that such an artifact could even exist, as it remains debatable whether or not the quipu actually was used for linguistic purposes rather than as a strictly mathematical tool.

Known records of Incas at these heights are only second hand. The Inca shrines and tombs in the Andes were of a religious origin, and with the collapse of the empire were prime destinations for grave robbers, who recorded nothing of the locations or altitudes. The final use of structures at extreme elevation may have been for security purposes, as the Incas established watch towers in response to Spanish invasion. After the Incas abandoned their structures and began to vanish, these heights would not be reached for several more centuries, when European mountaineers would arrive in the Andes and discover these archaeological sites haphazardly while conducting Himalaya style expeditions. In 1983, anthropologist Johan Reinhard discovered several of these ruins, from Ecuador to Chile and in between. His research has revealed much of what is known, or theorized at best, of the Inca relationship with mountain summits.

The American Alpine Journal, 1983

In the 20th Century, further progress was made in uncovering what archaeological sites survived the pillaging of grave robbers and fortune seekers. Stone walls, mummies, gold, silver, and other Inca artifacts continued to be uncovered. In 1950, the body of a guanaco--a pack animal related to the llama--was discovered on the ridge connecting the highest and lowest points of Aconcagua's summit. While nothing further has developed, this anomaly also suggests ambitious Inca ascents. The FitzGerald expedition of 1897 found that the route up Aconcagua was rather devoid of technical difficulty, while the wind and weather remained a more intimidating obstacle. While little is known of Inca technology or methodology related to mountain climbing, the lack of technical challenge on such peaks indicates an ease of access for highland natives of the Inca Empire. In addition, the Inca proficiency for knots in both the quipu system and complex rope bridges may suggest a use of knots for climbing purposes.

The Inca road network

The Inca Empire at its height stretched from Quito, Ecuador to Santiago, Chile and slightly beyond--the distance from Los Angeles to Washington, DC. The road network running from north to south skirted the mountains, and covered about 25,000 miles altogether, with many offshoot roads that crossed the Andes at heights of up to 16,000 feet. While the empire itself covered a variety of climate zones--from coastal plains to high desert to rain forest to alpine forests--the Incas were undoubtedly a culture that had developed and adapted in high altitudes. They were able to not only traverse across the Andes, but also maintained political and economic rule on both sides of the longest mountain range in the world.

The question still remains, however--why set out for the summits of these majestic peaks? The mystery's answer is nowhere to be found in historical records. For Europeans, alpinism was a matter of national pride as well as sport. Meanwhile, natives of the Himalaya tended to keep away from the summits, seeing them as the resting places of mountain deities and thus to be avoided out of respect and fear. For the Incas, it appears to have been a mixture of pride and religion that drove them to the summits, rather than away. To this day, there are many villages throughout the southern Andes inhabited by speakers of Quechua and other languages that existed within the Inca Empire. The local religious traditions here, while sometimes given a Christian flavor, seem to be fundamentally unchanged over the last 500 years--thus dating back to the time of the Inca Empire and its ascents.

These villages worshiped, and still do worship, the high peaks around them--they are mountain gods, either representing the highest deities or intermediaries of such deities. The primary reason for the villagers' worship was to influence the fertility of crops and livestock, the resources that they depended on to survive in the valleys below. The Incas came to these regions as conquerors, already crossing over the Andes in their campaigns of expansion, and established dominance in the political, religious, and economic spheres. In a sense, the economy--being agriculture and husbandry--as well as politics were both rooted in religion. Thus establishing their superior relationship with the local gods, the Incas may have climbed to these high summits, making first ascents in a show of power.

Aconcagua, with Camp II at 17,500 feet--close to the minimum altitude reached by Incas.

The Inca Empire still remains shrouded in mystery, and yet impressive for what possibilities it leaves to the modern imagination. The civilization's history may be locked away in an indecipherable binary code, giving us only the most educated guesses about the extent and capabilities of these early mountaineers. All possibilities aside, it is certain that Incas were reaching summits of over 20,000 feet up to 400 years before their European counterparts, and all that can be done is to retrace their footsteps and wonder at their determination.

Silent Stones of the North

(National Geographic)

Before 2010, it was an image that few of us found familiar--stones stacked in a seemingly hasty, haphazard method in imitation of human form. Then came the Winter Olympics of 2010, hosted by Canada's third-largest city, Vancouver. The well-known Olympic logo was displayed beside what has become an increasingly prevalent symbol of Canada, in a nod to its indigenous cultures--the very same human-like stack of stones.

 This symbol could be called by two names. One is the inuksuk, the proper Inuit name for a traditional stone cairn. The other is inunnguaq, the name given to the very same structures that are void of any cultural significance. The Olympic logo that proliferated in 2010 was the latter, as it was an adoption of the image by greater Canadian society--a copy that lacked the spiritual and cultural investment placed in similar cairns that have stood in the Arctic regions of Canada, Alaska, and Greenland for thousands of years.

The literal meaning of the word inuksuk is "substitute for a person", also translated as the image of man, or something serving the function of a human. Another  translation is simply "beacon", while it may also be thought of as a sort of messenger, expressing some thought or intention that originated with a human and has been left in stone for another to find. The official Inuktitut dictionary--a collection of the Inuit language--defines it with more detail: "traditional stone beacon usually made of piled stones on some prominent point or hill as a guide to travelers and hunters or to give other information about game or directions."

(Canadian Museum of Civilization)

Not to be overlooked, however, is the spiritual nature of the inukshuit, which is especially absent in inunnguat (the plurals of inuksuk and inunnguaq, respectively). Knud Rasmussen, Danish polar explorer, described a tale from the Inuits that told the origin of several of their inukshuit. These particular ones had been erected after several Inuit women had drowned in the sea, having been carried away by an island of ice that split away from shore. The Inuit men, who had been away hunting, built inukshuit along the shore to mourn the deaths, but also in the belief that they would anchor the women's souls back onto dry land, a better place for them to rest than lost at sea.

(Canadian Museum of Civilization)

The inukshuit were used to mark migration routes for caribou herders, places of slaughter, places of worship or rites, and grave sites. Some of them were seen as carrying good fortune, while others, like scarecrows, were meant to discourage approach--warning the Inuits to stay away from places of bad fortune or perceived evil.

Fundamentally, the inukshuit served as mediums between the people and the land. The stones, always unfinished, still demonstrated man's methods of shaping the landscape, giving form and meaning to the rawness of nature.

Like Stonehenge or the monuments of Easter Island, the inukshuit have been mysterious to outsiders, and much of their meaning has been forgotten--yet just the same, they still stand watch over the frozen landscape of the north, relics of civilization with equivalent relevance to the cathedrals of Europe, Mesopotamian ziggurats, or the Buddhist stupas.With the more and more common appearance of the inunnguaq as a popular symbol in Canada, the significance of the inuksuk is also returning from the shadows of indigenous memory.

Map of inukshuit sites on Baffin Island, Canada
(tukilik.ca)

There is much more to be learned about these ancient relics, as well as the modern people that cherish them. For further insight, take a peek at the project to map the inukshuit locations throughout the Arctic over at the Tukilik Foundation.