Shamanism and Christianity

SHAMANISM
AND CHRISTIANITY
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SHAMANISM
AND CHRISTIANITY
Native Encounters with Russian
Orthodox Missions in Siberia and
Alaska, 1820-1917
ANDREI A. ZNAMENSKI
Contributions to the Study of World History, Number 70
GREENWOOD PRESS
Westport, Connecticut London
In order to keep this title in print and available to the academic community, this edition
was produced using digital reprint technology in a relatively short print run. This would
not have been attainable using traditional methods. Although the cover has been changed
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Znamenski, Andrei A., 1960
Shamanism and Christianity : native encounters with Russian
Orthodox missions in Siberia and Alaska, 1820-1917 / Andrei A.
Znamenski.
p. cm.(Contributions to the study of world history, ISSN
0885-9159 ; no. 70)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-313-30960-4 (alk. paper)
1. Siberia (Russia)MissionsHistory. 2. ChukchiMissions
History. 3. Ural-Altaic peoplesMissionsRussia (Federation)
SiberiaHistory. 4. Russkaa pravoslavnaia tserkovMissions
Russia (Federation)SiberiaHistory. 5. AlaskaMissions
History. 6. Dena'ina IndiansMissionsHistory. 7. Russkaia
pravoslavnaia tserkovMissionsAlaskaHistory. I. Title.
II. Series.
BV3475.2.Z53 1999
266M9798<ic21
99-11265
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available.
Copyright 1999 by Andrei A. Znamenski
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be
reproduced, by any process or technique, without the
express written consent of the publisher.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 99-11265
ISBN: 0-313-30960-4
ISSN: 0885-9159
First published in 1999
Greenwood Press, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881
An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc.
www.greenwood.com
Printed in the United States of America
<oo)
The paper used in this book complies with the
Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National
Information Standards Organization (Z39.48-1984).
Dedicated
to the Memory of
my brother,
Leonid Znamenski
and my mentor,
Professor Gerald Thompson
Contents
List of Illustrations and Maps
ix
Acknowledgments
xi
Introduction
1.
Indigenous Landscapes in Siberia and Alaska
15
2.
Missionary Landscapes in Siberia and Alaska
47
3.
Orthodoxy Becomes a Native Faith: Dena'ina

Encounters with Russian Missionaries, 1849-1917
95
"Unresponsive Natives": Chukchi Dialogues with

the Russian Mission, 1840s-1917
139
4.
5.
Dialogues about Spirit and Power: Altaian Natives and

the Russian Orthodox Mission, 1828-1917
193
Conclusion
253
Glossary
265
Bibliography
273
Index
299

MAPS
Map 3.1 Native peoples of southern Alaska
Map 4.1 Native peoples of northeastern Siberia
Map 5.1 Major native groups in Altai
94
138
192
FIGURES
Figure 3.1 Dena'ina Indians of the Upper Cook Inlet, c. 1890
Figure 3.2 Ioann Bortnovsky, a missionary to the Dena'ina
from 1896 to 1907
Figure 3.3 Alexander Iaroshevich, a missionary to the Dena'ina
from 1893 to 1895
Figure 3.4 The old building of the Orthodox chapel in
the Dena' ina village of Eklutna
Figure 3.5 Dena'ina Orthodox funeral ceremony, c. 1900
Figure 3.6 Remnants of old Dena'ina graves ("spirit houses")
in the Knik area, September 10, 1936
Figure 4.1 A scene at the Anui trade fair inside the Anui fort,
Kolyma area, 1895
Figure 4.2 Chukchi chiefs, Anui trade fair, 1895
Figure 4.3 Missionary Amphilokhy (Anton Vakulsky), who
worked among the maritime Chukchi in 1909 and 1910
Figure 4.4 Orthodox chapel in the Sen-Kel,
western Chukchi country
Figure 4.5 An Orthodox missionary in traveling clothing,
northeastern Siberia, 1901
99
103
103
122
122
124
152
152
155
170
170
Figure 4.6 Russian Orthodox church in the village of Markovo,

southern border of Chukchi country, March 15, 1901
Figure 4.7 Chukchi reindeer sacrificing, mouth of
the Kolyma River, 1895 or 1901
Figure 5.1 Makarii Glukharev, the founder of the Altai
Orthodox Mission
Figure 5.2 Altaian medicine woman, c. 1900
Figure 5.3 A scene of a Shor shamanistic session, 1907
Figure 5.4 Archimandrite of Tomsk and Altai Makarii, c. 1890
Figure 5.5 A Burkhanist prayer place in central Altai, 1915
Figure 5.6 A group of Altaians with a Burkhanist preacher
dressed in white in the center '
178
178
196
219
219
225
233
233
Acknowledgments
Funding for research leading to this publication was provided by the Research
Enablement Program, a grant program for scholarship supported by The Pew Charitable Trusts, Philadelphia, PA, and administered by the Overseas Ministries Study
Center, New Haven, CT, USA.
This book would not have been possible if it had been based only on my own
insights into the history of native populations of Alaska and Siberia. Therefore, it
will be better to describe the work as a result of involvement of many other people
who provided their materials, encouragement, and support. First of all, I would
like to thank Research Enablement Program for the generous financing of my
work.
I also extend my gratitude to archivists from the Russian State Historical Archive
in St. Petersburg, Russia, and especially to Serafima I. Vakhareva. Her efforts saved
me much time and made my access to necessary documents of the Orthodox Church
Holy Synod easier than it could have been. My special thanks are to the librarians
at the Hilander Research Library of the Ohio State University, and first of all to
Lorraine Abraham. Lorraine not only navigated me through their rich microfilm
collections of old Russian magazines and documents, but also patiently looked for
sources I needed and corrected my mistakes in bibliographical entries.
I appreciate the support of Professor Alfred Cave, who provided me with constant theoretical feedback and helpful words of advice on native beliefs. I also
extend my gratitude to Professor Sergei Kan, who read parts of this manuscript
and whose works on native responses to Russian Orthodoxy inspired me to undertake my own research. Despite their numerous commitments, Professors Ake
Hultkrantz, Christopher Vecsey, and Victoria Wyatt eagerly responded to my request that they review the whole manuscript. I want to thank them for the time and
trouble they took to read the more than four hundred pages of my volume and for
their critical comments. My words of gratitude also go to my Alaskan friends and
xii
Acknowledgments
colleagues: Mrs. Barbara Sweetland Smith and Professor Stephen Haycox. Their
constant encouragement of my pursuits and valuable research tips helped me improve this book significantly.
At different stages of the project, when I needed to be enlightened about peculiarities of Russian Orthodox ways and terminology, both Fathers Nicholas Harris,
Stephen Janos, Paul Merculieff, and Macarius Targonsky and such lay people as
Mina Jacobs and Karen Jermyn readily helped me, and I extend to them my deep
gratitude. At the early stage of this project Dr. Vera Goushchina kindly sent me
books and articles unavailable here in the United States. When the book was almost completed Professor David Collins generously agreed to review the portion
devoted to the Altai and gave me helpful research feedback. Dr. Kira Van Deusen,
who is so knowledgeable about holistic'aspects of Siberian and Alaskan shamanism, polished my chapter on indigenous religions. Although I do not fully agree
with her estimates of missionary activities among native peoples, she will find that
a number of her suggestions about interpretation of shamanism were incorporated
in this book. Others who helped me in this project are India Spartz, Alaska Historical State Library, and Professor Irina Maksimova, Tomsk State University, who
identified and retrieved valuable photographs.
I would hardly have finished this work without my friend Adriana Greci Green
of the Anthropology Department of Rutgers University. I owe Adriana a great
deal. She postponed all her urgent commitments and volunteered to make this text
readable. My special words of gratitude go to the late Professor Gerald Thompson
(GT), my mentor, who invested much of his time in teaching me to say what I
wanted to say clearly without using sophisticated academic jargon. Although the
book is abundant in notes, I have tried to make it readable not only for specialists,
but also for a general audience who might be interested in the history of missionaries and native peoples. It is up to readers to decide whether I succeeded in this or
not. Moreover, I will never forget that GT and also Professor Michael Jakobson
supported my interest in the history of indigenous peoples by helping me come to
the United States to continue research. Last, but not the least, my deep gratitudes
go to the Department of Humanities of the Alabama State University and its chair,
Dr. Virginia Jones, which bestowed on me the best gift, my current job, and to
Heather Staines, my Greenwood editor, whose support brought this project to
completion.
Everybody knows that a scholar who has to teach five days a week, unfortunately, does not live a so-called regular life and does not get home at five or even at
six o'clock in the evening. That is why I use this occasion to thank my loving wife,
Susan, and my dear son, little Andrei, for patiently surviving my daily absences
and research trips.
Montgomery, Alabama
April 1999
Introduction
The road to religious change has converged with other kinds of roads, the mapping of
which takes us well outside the realm of religion.
Rita Smith Kipp, "Conversion by Affiliation"
Doing research in the Russian Christianizaton of the Dena'ina in Alaska I was
stunned by the significant role the nineteenth-century Orthodox church played in
the life of this Native American group. Ironically, this happened not during the
Russian Alaskan tenure, but when these Indians had already lived a few decades
under American rule. My interest in the topic of native peoples and Russian Christianity increased when I found out that another indigenous people, nomadic
Chukchi, who resided in neighboring northeastern Siberia, part of Russia, on the
contrary, expressed little interest in the missionary propaganda. For the explanation I turned to examining both native cultures and colonial circumstances that
influenced the interactions of these groups with Russian Christianity. Moreover, I
became curious about how other native groups reacted to Orthodoxy. My search
for additional examples of the variety of native responses to the Orthodox church
led me to the Altaians who reside in southwestern Siberia. They became my natural choice because the Altaians had a history of intensive interactions with the
Orthodox missionaries. Also, in contrast to the areas mentioned, native-missionary relations in Altai were well documented in published missionary records. The
result of my insights is this book, which describes and compares interactions between three indigenous populations and Russian missionaries throughout the
nineteenth and up to the beginning of the twentieth century. The work represents
three historical "snapshots" of missionary-native relations as seen by a world historian. As such I do not claim to provide in my work an exhaustive discussion of
these interactions in all three areas. Moreover, I believe that a great deal still can be
done by future researchers, especially in studying Dena'ina and Altaian Orthodoxy.
Introduction
A brief overview of these groups might help the reader form a clear idea of what
specifically I am going to discuss in this book. Prior to the Alaska purchase the
Dena'ina were exposed to the Orthodox religion, but nothing beyond minor syncretic adoption of a few Orthodox elements took place. By the turn of the twentieth
century, however, the entire Dena'ina population formally became Christian and
transformed Russian Orthodoxy into a native church. The experiences of the
Chukchi were different. Until 1917 this group largely maintained economic patterns based on reindeer herding along with maritime and inland fishing, hunting,
and reciprocal trade exchanges with the Russians and Americans. Moreover, Russian colonial and mixed-blood population in northeastern Siberia relied on these
natives for food supplies. As a result, the Chukchi did not show interest in borrowing much of Russian culture and "spiritual medicine." In contrast, the Dena'ina's
life and economy, based on fishing and hunting, faced radical transformation caused
by the influx of newcomers. In order to retain their group identity along with other
tools the Dena'ina used Russian Orthodoxy, which was the most familiar European church to them and apparently appealed to them because of its ancient
ritualism. At the turn of the twentieth century this American Indian group started
to view Orthodoxy as their own popular indigenous religion.
In Altai relationships of natives and missionaries were uneven. In the northeast
indigenous peoples integrated themselves into the Russian economy through the
fur and nuts trade, openly mingled with newcomers, practiced a religious syncretism, and manipulated Orthodoxy for political purposes. By contrast, the
south western Altaians lived as sovereign communities of stock breeders and maintained this status until the second half of the nineteenth century. Like the nomadic
Chukchi, the southwestern Altaians rarely responded to missionary doctrines.
However, in the 1860s fertile grassland and mountain pastures of the southwest
suddenly became the object of mass Russian agricultural colonization. An ensuing
messianic revitalization movement that blended native, Christian, and Buddhist
elements became an attempt of the Altaian nomads to build a new culture in order
to survive in the new colonial environment.
The political and strategic location of the three areas also differed. The Russian
government viewed Altai, situated between the Russian-Mongolian and RussianChinese borders, as a sphere of its vital interests. This region contained valuable
mineral deposits of gold and silver and other resources such as forest and farmlands. In addition, the area became populated by numerous migrants from the
European part of the empire. As a result, in the Altai area the power of the Russian
church was backed up by considerable colonial hegemony. In sharp contrast, the
severe climate and apparent lack of resources made the authorities neglect northeastern Siberia. The third area, Alaska, stopped being a Russian colony in 1867.
Therefore, in the latter area the Orthodox church had to rely exclusively on persuasion in evangelization work and was in not the position to force religion on the
natives.
My inspiration for writing this book originates from the simple fact that there
are no studies on the Christianization of these specific indigenous groups. Further-
Introduction
more, a large number of works that treat native-missionary relationships in Siberia and Alaska examine individual tribes. Only a few address the natives' response
from a comparative viewpoint.1 There is also a certain reluctance, at least among
the students of Native American ethnohistory, to examine broad cultural and religious issues.2 This reticence might be explained by the general difficulties one
faces in making such attempts. First, a historian or anthropologist who explores
these broad topics automatically becomes an easy target for criticism by experts
on each specific "tribe." Incidentally, one colleague even cautioned me not to bite
off such a "huge piece of history." Second, some may feel uncomfortable with any
broad generalizations because they simply do not fit the currently fashionable
emphasis on subjectivity. The results are the unavoidable "tribalization" and particularization of native studies. Such statements are equally applicable to both Native
American and Siberian native ethnohistories.
Moreover, scholarship on Russian evangelization of natives tends to explore the
relationships between indigenous populations and Orthodox missionaries in Alaska
and Siberia separately. Certain obvious foundations exist for this approach, because of the differences in the political and administrative conditions found in
these two areas.3 In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Siberian natives carried the burden of paying regular tribute. Meanwhile, the Alaskan indigenous
population faced domination by the Russian-American Company (RAC), whose
activities resembled those practiced by the European fur trade interests in native
America.4
Scholars indicate that after the 1867 Alaska purchase by the United States, the
two areas separated politically. However, the very fact that the Russian church
maintained its missionary stations and property and even expanded its influence
on native Alaskan people undermines that assumption. It is also pointed out that in
Alaska the Russians constituted a tiny minority that economically depended on
Native Americans, while the situation in Siberia was different. Indeed, by the end
of the nineteenth century, the Russian population in certain areas of Siberia demographically dominated the native population, especially in the southern areas
such as Altai. Yet, this was not true as far as northeastern Siberia was concerned; in
this region, for instance, in Chukchi country and other areas as well, the native
population composed a dominant majority and defined their own terms of cultural
dialogue with the newcomers.
Many similarities are also found between the native cultures of Siberia and Alaska.
This gives additional support for considering these areas as a single cultural zone.
Apart from the close environmental and economic conditions, indigenous peoples
of the two regions had a number of common cultural, social, political, and religious features.5 Thus, in looking at the religious life in both regions, we may
observe closely related shamanistic practices, which even encouraged some earlier researchers to coin a scholarly metaphor, the "shamanistic complex." In both
areas native peoples did not practice institutionalized religions. Their beliefs were
more concerned with a constant search for spiritual power in order to maintain the
natural harmony of the world. Under certain circumstances in this framework all
Introduction
types of useful experiences with neighboring tribes or the Europeans could be

added as potentially helpful medicine. Therefore, the "native religions" depended
upon constant innovations, and the response to Christianity was no exception.
There is another piece of evidence to support discussion of the two regions together. The Russian Orthodox church did not draw strict lines between its policies
in Siberia and Alaska. Moscow church officials did not differentiate Siberian and
American natives much and applied to them the same term, inorodtsy.6 Antoinette
Shalkop notes that "the church in Alaska was always part of Siberian diocese, and
never developed an independent structure."7 The situation barely changed after
the 1867 United States purchase of Russian America because the Russian church
maintained its Alaskan land. In his recent article David Norlander draws attention
to a provision of the Alaska Treaty that stipulated that all church property would
remain under Orthodox control, even as the other Alaskan territory was transferred to the U.S. sovereignty. "Consequently," concludes Norlander, "the Russian
Orthodox Church continued to operate much as before the sale."8 Though since
1870 a separate American See did exist, the Orthodox church in Alaska was under
complete control of the Holy Synod. Therefore, the period before and after 1867
in Russian missionary history should be treated "as a single unit."9
The period I consider in this book ranges from the 1820s to 1917. These years
are singled out as being a separate period for the following reasons. Prior to the
nineteenth century, the Russian missionary policy was not organized; nor were
there specific religious organizations responsible for the permanent Christianization
of natives. In addition, the government used mostly coercive methods during evangelization of native peoples.10 Only at the end of the eighteenth century during
Catherine the Great's rule did the empire change its policy by simply neglecting
native Christianization.
In the 1820s a new period in Russian missionary policy started. To consolidate
the empire's periphery authorities became interested in the genuine Christianization
of native areas. Now both forceful methods and the late eighteenth century negligence were put aside. Instead, conversion relied more on persuasion and economic
benefits. During this time new Russian missions were founded while existing ones
were strengthened. In 1828 the Altai mission was created. During the same decade, the church improved the Alaskan mission and sent its first missionaries to
northeastern Siberia. Moreover, from 1826 the government formally granted the
new converts three-year tax and tribute exemption. Though throughout the nineteenth century there were differences in missionary methods, the general stance
called for Christianization through persuasion and the tolerant treatment of native
"superstitions." In 1917 the Bolshevik Revolution abruptly ended the political,
economic, and social powers of the Russian church, thereby halting any opportunity for continuation of native-Orthodox dialogue in Siberia and curtailing all
financial assistance for overseas missions. At the same time, in Alaska creative
interactions between native peoples and the Orthodox continued uninterrupted,
although the Russian church now switched its major activities to the continental
states.
Introduction
My analysis does not reduce native-missionary relationships to a single pattern.

Neither do I intend to discuss a common native response. On the contrary, I want
to show the variety of indigenous-missionary dialogues. In other words, my goal
is to demonstrate how native peoples in these three areas constructed different
worldviews in the course of these contacts. An analysis of specific historical circumstances and indigenous people's own cultural orientations helps reveal what
stood behind such indigenous constructions. Exploration of indigenous cultural
stances and background events might help explain in which situations natives became "responsive" or "unresponsive" to Christian messages.
It is also obvious that the topic of Orthodoxy and Siberian/Alaskan natives represents an aspect of a broader theme: the history of interactions between indigenous
beliefs and Christianity. Working on this book I benefited from studies that address native-missionary relations in different parts of the globe, especially in native
America.11 Until the 1970s anthropological and historical scholarship treated the
problems of native Christianization as a "win-or-lose" battle between indigenous
traditionalism and "white man's" Christianity. Conversion of indigenous peoples
was judged as a harmful European imposition, which dispossessed natives of their
"authentic" identity. Cornelius Osgood's research on the culture of the Dena'ina
in the 1930s illustrates this point.
Educated in the classic Boasian tradition, Osgood meticulously pulled out all
"traditional" aspects of the Dena'ina culture and separated them from "non-traditional" elements. Like many other contemporary works on indigenous peoples,
his book, Ethnography of the Tanaina, ended with a grim pessimistic note: the old
culture was declining, natives were getting acculturated, and there was no hope for
the Indians' future. To Osgood, the total embrace of Christianity by the Dena'ina
stood out as a symbol of their decline: "At Kenai the Indians gather in the Russian
church for service. They react strongly to the candles and the incense, the ageworn rhythmical chanting of the ritual. At heart they seem fatalistic and without
hope for any future."I2 As a matter of routine, scholars treated natives as passive
demoralized recipients of European religion and kept themselves busy by calculating how much "traditional" culture was left among these "declining" societies.
Ironically, partisan activist scholars in the West and Soviet Marxist researchers
who tended to reduce native-missionary relations to a total battleground strayed
not too far from assimilationists. Such authors also insist that missionaries exploited natives culturally or economically. George Tinker, one of these scholars,
writes about an unending genocide by missionaries against the American Indian
religions.13 Moreover, N. Y. Khrapova, a Russian historian, argues that clerics acted
as direct agents of economic exploitation of Siberian natives.14 These arguments
indirectly deny the creativity of native societies, and the variety and significance
of indigenous responses and missionary activities.
In his article "Some Thoughts on the Ethnohistory of Missions" James Axtell
stresses that scholars who viewed native ethnohistory through "colonialist" glasses
emphasize the suppression of native "traditional cultures" by missionaries and
lament "a tragic loss" of indigenous cultural "innocence." Within this paradigm,
Introduction
these scholars exaggerate the destruction of a native ability to survive within a

changing environment. The colonialism model, though still supported by a few
scholars, has lost its popularity. The majority of contemporary researchers now
stress native agency: an active role of indigenous peoples in shaping their own
fate. Current scholarship also dismisses the charges that missionaries were totally
responsible for imperialism and recognizes that the changes the missionaries produced in native societies involved a creative exchange, not a destructive imposition.
It is also stressed that indigenous people converted for far more personal reasons
than scholars suggested and that incorporation of Christian values into native cultures did not mean a superficial belief system.15 The greater part of present-day
history and ethnohistory scholarship sees native societies as groups that creatively
experimented with particular Western religions and reinterpreted them to fit their
indigenous cultures. Consequently, this resulted in regular redefinition of the native identity itself. On many occasions, indigenous communities absorbed alien
elements to the point that they became "traditional." Over time native groups could
perceive such elements as expressions of their own identity.16 Thus, speculating
about the origin of specific cultural elements (traditional or non-traditional) will
hardly provide us with a clue to the social and spiritual meaning that people themselves attribute to these elements. One recent work, which discusses thexonversion
of a Native American medicine man to Christianity, stresses that neither evaluation
(Christian or non-Christian) represents an appropriate framing of the issue and
that native people if they felt necessity sought sacred power "on whatever new
horizon it might appear."17 In his essay on religious syncretism J.D.Y. Peel cleverly remarked that native people in their belief practice were "much less interested
in the cultural origins of items of behavior than some anthropologists are."18
Ethnohistorians now note that in the course of both peaceful and hostile nativemissionary relationships, native peoples acted as creative role players, adopting
parts of the Christian doctrines, rejecting others, and even imposing native "rules
of the game" on the missionaries.19
Though the importance of native agency is undeniable, we should not rush to
the other extreme, the emphasis on "unsubmissive" cultural persistence that denies the impact of surrounding conditions on native-missionary dialogue, especially
when facts clearly indicate that colonial hegemony affected native decisions. It is
evident that interactions with Christianity displayed a variety of native responses
because of the environmental, economic, and historic circumstances colonization
brought to native borderlands. Therefore, equal attention to the study of the specific cases of colonial hegemony and native agency is needed. My analysis of
native reactions to Russian Christianity falls within the particular economic, social, and political conditions existing for each region during the nineteenth century.
I will examine how these background forces affected particular reactions of indigenous peoples to Christianity. Therefore, I agree with the authors who discuss
indigenous Christianization as a "dialectical process" that involved both individual
agency and structural settings.20 Moreover, my analysis attempts to balance these
two aspects.
Introduction
Those works that address native-Russian missionaries' encounters in Siberia

and Alaska can be divided into three large groups. To the first group belong studies
that directly or indirectly demonstrate an apologetic or pro-Christian bias. Authors
of these works insist that Orthodox missionary tradition was totally lenient toward
native customs. Some of these writers generalize about the civilizing role Russian
missionaries performed among the "backward" natives.21 It is notable that in
present-day Russian scholarship a few works that seek to disprove the negative
critique of missionaries dominant in former Soviet scholarship fall into the same
pattern: missionaries as civilizers and cultural heroes.22
Second, there is a body of literature in old Russia and the former Soviet Union
that totally equates missionary activities with Russian colonialism. These works
emphasize a negative impact of missionaries on indigenous peoples. A few of
these studies draw connections between Orthodox activities and economic interests of the Russian monarchy, stamping Christianity as a subservient agent for
czarist colonization. Accordingly, they judge Orthodox missionary activities as an
imposition. Works by early twentieth-century Russian anthropologists like
Waldemar Bogoras and Waldemar Jochelson and historians like Nikolai Firsov
perpetuated this view.23 These assessments were later borrowed by Soviet historians, who started to stress that Orthodox missions were a "weapon of intimidation
and dispossession" (Lev Mamet). Moreover, there were scholars (Khrapova) who
asserted that missionary activities were subordinated to missionaries' own "enrichment and profit." Among Western researchers McCarthy presents arguments
that sound very close to the earlier approach. This historian writes that all missionary activities were colored with strong nationalism and stresses that priests sent to
natives served the interests of the Russian state.24
The third and currently the most popular approach is represented by
ethnohistorical scholarship. Despite their marked differences the works in this trend
are unanimous in avoiding a discussion of native-Russian missionary encounters
as either harmful or helpful innovations, treating instead native interactions with
clerics as a complex process of intercultural exchange. Although they vary in their
particular assessments, these scholars emphasize native interpretations of Orthodoxy or the role Russian Christianity performed for indigenous ethnicity.25 I have
benefited a great deal from this school of thought, especially from current
ethnohistorical studies on interactions between Orthodoxy and Native Americans
in Alaska.
Second, in doing this research, I built my ideas from recent insights into the
history of the Russian empire's nationalities' policy and the indigenous peoples of
imperial borderlands and their Christianization.26 Most recent works that discuss
relationships between the empire and its indigenous periphery, draw attention to
the flexible and constantly changing nature of indigenous ethnicity and stress that
the process of ethnic boundary formation depended on particular historical circumstances.27 Third, I have gained considerable research feedback from the works
of the historians and anthropologists who study popular Christianity in early and
modern Russia.28 Eve Levine, one of these scholars, suggests that instead of search-
Introduction
ing for Orthodox or heathen origin of specific popular beliefs, researchers will
gain more by uncovering the role these beliefs played in a specific social milieu:
"Religious beliefs and observances grew out of people's own understanding of the
supernatural and the natural and social world around them."29
My general premise is that we cannot view the interactions between natives and
Orthodoxy only through the glasses of conflict and native resistance. Neither can
we reduce indigenous contacts with Russian missionaries to either natives' total
accommodation of Christianity or so-called indigenous cultural persistence. Circumstances varied so much that even within a specific indigenous group, as for
instance, the history of the Altaians vividly shows, we may find different perceptions of Orthodoxy. It also appears that for native peoples both their own native
beliefs and Christian religion represented tools for solving various social and spiritual problems. Incidentally, Michael Steltenkamp in his biographical study of a
Native American medicine man turned Christian catechist draws our attention to
the fact that for the native people religion was far from an aspect of their culture,
but rather an instrument "in nurturing their ability to confront change."30
I am inclined to share a viewpoint that to a larger degree cultural values, including religion, are a matter of a choice ("invention of ethnicity") depending on specific
historic, economic, and political situations.31 As Ann Swindler puts it in her "Culture as Action," in constructing ethnicity people treat both their own and surrounding
cultures as a "toolkit" or as "strategies for action" that include rituals, worldviews,
and symbols used to deal with various problems. In the course of their activities
people constantly reshape their worldviews. Therefore, "the significance of specific cultural symbols can be understood only in relation to the strategies of action
they sustain."32 Hence, for my own interpretation of the process of native-missionary interactions I rely on the "ethnicity as strategy" approach that stands as a
promising method for understanding native dialogues with Western culture.33 This
is not to claim that this construction fully explains the diversity of native decisions
to accept, reject, or negotiate with Christianity. Yet, I suggest that this method
allows an understanding of their core decisions because it underscores the instrumental character of religion itself, which is concerned with easing people's living
and providing them with an expressive outlet.34 This approach stresses that practical ideological or power motives frequently drove indigenous groups to adopt
Christian living, to experiment with a few elements of white man's religion, or to
reject Christianity.
It should be stressed that indigenous strategies were concerned not only with the
goals of pure physical survival, but more with the search for spiritual survival tools
and meaningful explanations for changes. It was a quest for additional spiritual
power in order to persist in surrounding environments. The nature of pre-industrial indigenous societies, where social life, economy, ideology, and spiritual life
were linked, and where success in these fields depended on accumulation of medicine power, opened or, on the contrary, significantly reduced opportunities for a
dialogue between Christian and indigenous beliefs. Native peoples attached or did
not attach elements of Russian Christianity to their cultural and religious systems
Introduction
depending on the given situation. In areas where indigenous communities had no

significant interest in the Orthodox "medicine," they retained their own beliefs,
making few borrowings from Christianity and even influencing the religion of
newcomers. The Chukchi saw little social or spiritual sense in adjusting Christianity to their culture. In contrast, Dena'ina in Alaska, who faced a life disrupted by
constant changes, displayed interest in borrowing Russian Christian elements to
aid in improving their social and spiritual integrity. Briefly, in this work I am interested in two things: determining what cultural constructions native peoples offered
in response to missionary activities, second, applying Swindler's orientation, analyzing, "what specific historical changes undermine the vitality of some cultural
patterns and give rise to others."35
NOTES
1. Among those few works that do address this specific topic I would like to mention an
interesting article by David Collins that compares Orthodox evangelization of Siberian/
Alaskan natives with Protestant and Catholic Christianization of indigenous peoples in
Canada: David Collins, "Culture, Christianity and the Northern Peoples of Canada and
Siberia," Religion, State & Society 25, no. 4 (1997): 381-392.
2. Frederick Hoxie, 'The Problems of Indian History," in Major Problems in American
Indian History, ed. Albert L. Hurtado and Peter Iverson (Lexington, MA: D. C. Heath and
Co., 1994), 39-40.
3. Raymond M. Fisher, "Russia's Two Eastern Frontiers: Siberia and Russian America,"
Pacifica: A Journal of Pacific and Asian Studies 2, no. 2 (1990): 24-34.
4. In the nineteenth century life of native Siberians was regulated by the 1822 Statute of
Alien Administration (Polozhenie ob Inorodtsakh). Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi
Imperil, 1st ser., vol. 38, no. 29126; "Visochaishe Utverzhdennii 22 Iiulia 1822 Goda Ustav
ob Upravlenii Inorodtsev," in Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii: Pozdnie
Pervobitnie i Predklassovie Obshchestva Severa Evropeiskoi Rossii, Sibiri i Russkoi Ameriki,
ed. Yu. I. Semenov (Moskva: Starii Sad, 1998), 141-176. The status of indigenous peoples
of Alaska was defined by the charter of Russian-American Company. Polnoe Sobranie
Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, 2nd ser., vol. 19, no. 18290, 247-286; "Visochaishe
Utverzhdennii 10 Okriabria 1844 Goda Ustav Rossiisko-Amerikanskoi Kompanii," in
Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii, 216-222.
5. Ake Hultkrantz, "Ecological and Phenomenological Aspects of Shamanism," in Shamanism in Siberia, ed. V. Dioszegi and M. Hoppal (Budapest: Akademiai Kiado, 1978),
27-58; idem: "North American Indian Religions in a Circumpolar Perspective," in North
American Indian Studies: European Contributions, ed. Pieter Hovens (Gottingen, West
Germany: Edition Herodot, 1981), 11-28; U'ia S. Gurvich, "K Voprosu o Paralleliakh v
Traditsionnoi Kulture Narodov Severnoi Azii i Severnoi Ameriki " in Traditsionnie Kultury
Severnoi Sibiri i Severnoi Ameriki, ed. Il'ia S. Gurvich (Moskva: Nauka, 1981), 119-127;
Galina I. Dzeniskevich, "American-Asian Ties as Reflected in Athapaskan Material Culture," in Anthropology of the North Pacific Rim, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Valeriei
Chaussonnet (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994), 53-62; J. A. Grim,
The Shaman: Patterns of Siberian and Ojibway Healing (Norman: University of Oklahoma
Press, 1984); Karl H. Schlesier, The Wolves of Heaven: Cheyenne Shamanism, Ceremonies
10
Introduction
and Prehistoric Origins (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987); see also the specific work that fits this comparative framework: William W. Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell,
eds., Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska (Washington, DC:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988).
6. Literally "of a different kin." Such a translation of this word offered by Mikhail
Khodarkovsky most closely matches the meaning of its Russian original. Mikhail
Khodarkovsky, "'Ignoble Savages and Unfaithful Subjects': Constructing Non-Christian
Identities in Early Modern Russia," in Russia's Orient: Imperial Borderlands and Peoples,
1700-1917, ed. Daniel R. Brower and Edward J. Lazzerini (Bloomington and London:
Indiana University Press, 1997), 15. Some researchers prefer to translate this word as "aliens."
The name inorodtsy was commonly used in Russian colonial vocabulary, where it was
applied to all indigenous peoples of the Russian empire. See more about the origin and
usage of the term in John W. Slocum, "Who/and When, Were the Inorodtsy? The Evolution
of the Category of 'Aliens' in Imperial Russia," Russian Review 57, no. 2 (1998): 173-190.
7. Antoinette Shalkop, "The Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska," in Russia's American
Colony, ed. S. Frederick Starr (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1987), 196.
8. David Norlander, "Veniaminov and the Expansion of Orthodoxy in Russian America,"
Pacific Historical Review 64, no. 1 (1995): 33.
9. Shalkop, "Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska," 200, 202.
10. Michael Khodarkovsky, "'Not by Word Alone': Missionary Policies and Religious
Conversion in Early Modern Russia," Comparative Studies in Society and History 38, no. 2
(1996): 267-293.
11. Among these works I would like to single out: Thomas O. Biedelman, Colonial
Evangelism: A Socio-Historical Study of an East African Mission at the Grassroots
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982); Clarence R. Bolt, "The Conversion of the
Port Simpson Tsimshian: Indian Control of Missionary Manipulation, " in Out of the Background: Readings on Canadian Native History, ed. Robin Fisher and Kenneth Coates
(Toronto: Copp Clark Pitman, 1988), 219-235; Wendy James, Douglas H. Johnson, eds.
Vernacular Christianity: Essays in the Social Anthropology of Religion (New York: Lilian
Barber Press, 1988); Vicente L. Rafael, Contracting Colonialism: Translation and Christian Conversion in Tagalog Society under Early Spanish Rule (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1988); Mary T Huber, The Bishop's Progress: A Historical Ethnography of Catholic
Missionary Experience on the Sepik Frontier (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 1988); Jean Comaroff, and John L. Comaroff. Of Revelation and Revolution: Christianity, Colonialism, and Consciousness in South Africa (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1991); Kenneth M. Morrison, "Montagnais Missionization in Early New
France," in Major Problems in American Indian History, ed. Albert L Hurtado ana Peter
Iverson (Lexington, MA: D. C. Heath and Co., 1994), 104-117; Clara Sue Kidwell, Choctaws
and Missionaries in Mississippi, 1818-1918 (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1995); Martha McCarthy, From the Great River to the End of the Earth: Oblate
Missions to the Dene, 1847-1921 (Edmonton, Alberta: The University of Alberta Press and
Western Canadian Publishers, 1995); Michael F. Steltenkamp, Black Elk: Holy Man of the
Oglala (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1993); Christianity and Missions, 1450-1800, ed. J. S. Cummins (Aldershot, UK and Brookfield, VT: Ashgate, 1997);
Michael E. Harkin, The Heiltsuks: Dialogues of Culture and History on the Northwest
Coast (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1997); Pier M. Larson, "'Capacities and Modes of Thinking': Intellectual Engagements and Subaltern Hegemony in the
Early History of Malagasy Christianity," American Historical Review 102, no. 4 (1997):
969-1002. I would also like to note the most recent comparative studies of conversion to
Introduction
11
Christianity of three Native American groups in Mexico and three indigenous communities
in India: Pauline G. Stedt, "Syncretic Religions: Merging Symbols (Mexico)" (Ph.D. diss.,
University of California Riverside, 1994); Richard M. Eaton, "Comparative History as World
History: Religious Conversion in Modern India," Journal of World History 8, no. 2 (1997):
243-271.
12. Cornelius Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina (New Haven, CT: Human Relations
Area Files Press, 1976), 194.
13. George E. Tinker, Missionary Conquest: The Gospel and Native American Cultural
Genocide (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993).
14. N. Y. Khrapova, "Zakhvati Zemel Gornogo Altaia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missiiei v
Poreformennii Period " in Voprosi Sotsialno-Ekonomicheskogo Razvitia Sibiri v Period
Kapitalizma, ed. A. P. Borodavkin (Barnaul: Altaiskii Gosudearstvennii Universitet, 1984),
206-218.
15. James Axtell, "Some Thoughts on the Ethnohistory of Missions," Ethnohistory 29,
no. 1 (1982): 37; Ann Fienup-Riordan, The Real People and the Children of Thunder: The
Yup'ik Eskimo Encounter with Moravian Missionaries John and Edith Kilbuck (Norman:
University of Oklahoma Press, 1991), 5; John Webster Grant, Moon of Wintertime: Missionaries and the Indians of Canada in Encounter Since 1534 (Toronto and Buffalo: University
of Toronto Press, 1984), 225; Susan E. Gray, "The Ojibwa World View and Encounters
with Christianity along the Berens River, 1875-1940" (Ph.D. diss., University of Manitoba,
1996); Andrew H. Hedges, "Strangers, Foreigners, and Fellow Citizens: Case Studies of
English Missions to the Indians in Colonial New England and the Middle Colonies, 16421755" (Ph.D. diss., University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1996). One of the most
recent studies on native-missionary encounters emphasizes that those who reduce Native
American interactions with Euroamerican clerics to a simple battleground simplify history
"to suit our current political beliefs, thus diminishing the humanity of people who acted
with a wide range of motives and from a multitude of perspectives." Michael Harkin and
Sergei Kan, "Introduction," in Special Issue: Native American Women's Responses to Christianity, ed. Michael Harkin and Sergei Kan, Ethnohistory 43, no. 4 (1996): 565. A present-day
Native American theologian similarly stressed that "to dismiss all native Christians as acculturated, anachronistic traces of religious colonialism, is to miss innumerable
demonstrations of their insightful historical and social analysis, their complex and sophisticated religious creativity." James Treat, "Introduction: Native Christian Narrative Discourse,"
Native and Christian: Indigenous Voices on Religious Identity in the United States and
Canada, ed. James Treat (New York and London: Routledge, 1996), 10.
16. Loretta Fowler, Shared Symbols, Contested Meanings: Gros Ventre Culture and History, 1778-1984 (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1987), 8, 10; Peter Iverson,
When Indians Became Cowboys: Native Peoples and Cattle Ranching in the American West
(Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1994).
17. Steltenkamp, Black Elk, 157, 161.
18. J.D.Y. Peel, "Syncretism and Religious Change," Comparative Studies in Society
and History 10, no. 2 (1968): 140.
19. Interestingly, Jannifer S.H. Brown recently questioned the validity of the term response for the description of native encounters with missionaries. Instead, she offers a
neutral term, interaction, to stress that both missionaries and native peoples changed during
mutual contacts. Jennifer S.H. Brown, "Reading Beyond the Missionaries, Dissecting Responses," Ethnohistory 43, no. 4 (1996): 714-715.
20. Harvey A. Feit, "Dreaming of Animals: The Waswanipi Cre Shaking Tent Ceremony
in Relation to Environment, Hunting, and Missionization," Circumpolar Religion andEcol-
12
Introduction
ogy: An Anthropology of the North, ed. Takashi Irimoto and Takako Yamada (Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 1994), 289; Sylvia S. Kasprycki, "Missionaries, Native Americans,
and Cultural Processes," European Review of Native American Studies 10, no. 2 (1996): 1 ;
Rita Smith Kipp, "Conversion by Affiliation: The History of the Karo Batak Protestant
Church," American Ethnologist 22, no. 4 (1995): 872.
21. George V. Florovsky, "Russian Missions: An Historical Sketch," The Christian East,
no. 1 (1933): 31; Nikita Struve, "Orthodox Missions: Past and Present," St. Vladimir's
Seminary Quarterly 7, no. 1 (1963): 33; Eugene Smirnoff, A Short Account of the Historical Development and Present Position of Russian Orthodox Missions (Powys, UK: Stylite
Publishing Ltd, 1986); Serge Bolshakoff, The Foreign Missions of the Russian Orthodox
Church (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1943); G. M. Soldatov,
Mitropolit Filofei, v Skhime Feodor, Prosvetitel Sibiri (Minneapolis: Izdanie Soldatova,
1977); S. A. Mousalimas, The Transition from Shamanism to Russian Orthodoxy in Alaska
(Providence, RI: Berghahn Books, 1995).
22. Vladimir V. Eroshov and Valerii Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov: Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia
Missiia v Kuznetskom Krae (Kemerovo: Kuzbassvuzizdat, 1995); D. V. Katsuba,
"Blagotvoritelnaia Rol Alataiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," in Etnografiia Altaiay d. T. K.
Shcheglova (Barnaul: Barnaulskii Gosudarstvennii Pedagogicheskii Universitet, 1996), 7276.
23. Waldemar [Vladimir] Bogoras, The Chukchee (New York: AMS Press, 1975);
Waldemar [Vladimir] Jochelson, The Koryak (New York: AMS Press, 1975); Nikolai N.
Firsov, Chteniiapo Istorii Sibiri (Moskva: A. i I. Granat, 1921), vol. 1.
24. Lev P. Mamet, Oirotiia: Ocherk Natsionalno-Osvoboditelnogo Dvizheniia i
Grazhdanskoi Voiny na Gornom Altae (Gorno-Altaisk: Ak Chechek, 1994), 26-27, 30;
Khrapova, "Zakhvati Zemel Gornogo Altaia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missiiei v Poreformennii
Period"; Frank T. McCarthy, "The Kazan's Missionary Congress," Cahiers du Monde Russe
et Sovitique 14, no. 3 (1973): 308-332. See also the works that follow the same pattern: I.
I. Ogrizko, Khristianizatsiia Narodov Tobolskogo Severa vXYIII V (Leningrad: Uchpedgiz,
1940); Leonid P. Potapov, Ocherki po Istorii Altaitsev (Moskva: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk
SSSR, 1953), 242-243, 373; Egor S. Shishigin, Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v Iakutii
(Iakutsk: Iakutskii Gos. Obedinennyi Muzei Istorii i Kultury Narodov Severa, 1991).
25. See, for example: Lydia Black, "Ivan Pan'kov an Architect of Aleut Literacy,"
Arctic Anthropology 14, no. 1 (1977): 94-107; Innokentii S. Vdovin, "Vlianie Khristianstva
na Religioznie Verovania Chukchei i Koryakov," in Khristianstvo i Lamaism u Korennogo
Naseleniia Sibiri, ed. Innokentii S. Vdovin (Leningrad: Nauka, 1979), 86-114; R. R.
Rathbum, "The Russian Orthodox Church as a Native Institution among the Koniag Eskimo of Kodiak Island," Arctic Anthropology 18, no. 1 (1981): 12-22; Barbara S. Smith,
Orthodoxy and Native Americans: The Alaskan Mission (Syosset, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1980); Oleg Kobtzeff, "Ruling Siberia. The Imperial Power, the Orthodox Church,
and the Native People," St. Vladimir's Theological Quarterly 30, no. 3 (1986): 269-280;
Sergei Kan, "Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska," in Handbook of North American Indians: History of Indian-White Relations, vol. ed. Wilcomb E. Washburn, gen. ed. William
Sturtevant (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), vol. 4, 506-521 ; idem,
"Russian Orthodox Missionaries and the Tlingit Indians of Alaska, 1880-1900" in New
Dimensions in Ethnohistory, ed. Barry Gough and Laird Christie (Hull, Quebec: Canadian
Museum of Civilization, 1991), 129-160; Ann Fienup-Riordan, "Following the Star: From
Ukrain to the Yukon," in Russian America: The Forgotten Frontier, ed. Barbara S. Smith
and Redmond J. Barnett (Tacoma, WA: Washington State Historical Society, 1990), 227-
Introduction
13
235; Michael Oleksa, Orthodox Alaska: A Theology of Mission (Crestwood, NY: St.
Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1992).
26. Andreas Kappeler, Rossiia-Mnogonatsionalnaia Imperiia: Vozniknovenie, Istoriia,
Raspad, trans, from German by SvetlanaChervonnaia (Moskva: Progress-Traditiia, 1997);
Yuri Slezkine, Arctic Mirrors: Russia and the Small Peoples of the North (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1994); idem, "Savage Christians or Unorthodox Russians?
Missionary Dilemma in Siberia," in Between Heaven and Hell: The Myth of Siberia in
Russian Culture, ed. Yuri Slezkine and Galya Diment (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1993),
15-31; Willard Sunderland, "Russian into Iakuts? 'Going Native' and Problems of Russian
National Identity in the Siberian North, 1870s-1914," Slavic Review 55, no. 4 (1996): 806825; Paul W. Werth, "Subjects for Empire: Orthodox Mission and Imperial Governance in
the Volga-Kama Region, 1825-1881" (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1996); idem,
"Baptism, Authority, and the Problem of Zakonnost' in Orenburg Diocese: The Induction
of over 800 'Pagans' into the Christian Faith," Slavic Review 56, no. 3 (1997): 456-480.
27. Daniel R. Brower and Edward J. Lazzerini, "Introduction," in Russia's Orient: Imperial Borderlands and Peoples, 1700-1917, ed. Daniel R. Brower and Edward J. Lazzerini
(Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 1997), xv; Thomas M. Barrett, "Lines
of Uncertainty: The Frontiers of the Northern Caucasus," in Imperial Russia: New Histories for the Empire, ed. Jane Burbank and David L. Ransel (Bloomington and Indianapolis:
Indiana University Press, 1998), 148-173.
28. T. A. Bernstam, "Russian Folk Culture and Folk Religion," in Russian Traditional
Culture: Religion, Gender, and Customary Law, ed. Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer (Armonk,
NY, and London: M. E. Sharpe, 1992), 34-47; Eve Levin, "Dvoeverie and Popular Religion," in Recovery of Religious Identity in Orthodox Russia, Ukrain and Georgia, ed. Stephen
K. Batalden (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1993), 31-52; Alexandr A.
Panchenko, Issledovania v Oblasti Narodnogo Pravoslavia (St. Petersburg: Aleteia, 1998).
29. Levin, "Dvoeverie and Popular Religion," 46.
30. Steltenkamp, Black Elk, 172.
31. See major studies that belong to this tradition: Roy Wagner, The Invention of Culture
(Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1975); Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger, The
Invention of Tradition (Cambridge, UK and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1983);
The Invention of Ethnicity, ed. W. Sollors (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989);
Kathleen N. Cozen, et. al., "The Invention of Ethnicity: A Perspective from the USA,"
Journal of American Ethnic History 12, no. 1 (1992): 5.
32. Ann Swindler, "Culture as Action: Symbols and Strategies," American Sociological
Review 51 (1986): 274, 283.
33. Clyde Holler, Black Elk's Religion: The Sun Dance and Lakota Catholicism (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1995), 207-208.
34. Peel, "Syncretism and Religious Change," 124.
35. Swindler, "Culture as Action: Symbols and Strategies," 284.
1
Indigenous Landscapes in Siberia and
Alaska
It is from understanding that the power comes; and the power in the ceremony was in
understanding what it meant. After this, I went on curing sick people, and I was busy
doing this. I was in doubt no longer. I felt like a man, and I could feel the power with
me all the time.
John G. Neihardt, Black Elk Speaks
Acting as protectors of their specific kin groups shamans carry purely clan functions,
which creates conditions for the growth of shamans' personal power.
Sergei Shirokogoroff, Opyt Izsledovaniia Osnov Shamanstva u Tungusov (1919)
An exploration of the native societies that confronted Russian missionaries helps

explain the motives of the indigenous population either to seek out Russian Christianity or to limit contact with it. Though indigenous peoples of Siberia and Alaska
differed from each other, common patterns can be generalized. However, this chapter
is not a detailed examination of native "traditional" cultures, a task that would
remain superficial given the continuous changes that occurred among the discussed
groups. Current ethnohistorical scholarship emphasizes that indigenous societies
were never static before contacts with European and American civilizations, and
that therefore all attempts to reconstruct an immanent native traditional world are
speculative. At best, such efforts represent snapshots of native cultures during specific periods; at worst, they maintain European stereotypes of the indigenous
societies. Nevertheless, the word traditional is used here, as Melissa Meyer employed it, simply to define "cultural patterns or customs from an earlier time" to
the time of first contacts with Europeans.1
The present examination is rather a summary of the results of recent Russian
and Western ethnohistorical research on Altaian, Chukchi, and Dena'ina economies, social life and native beliefs during early-contact times, singling out those
aspects of indigenous social, economic, and spiritual culture that were crucial dur-
16
Shamanism and Christianity
ing encounters with Russian clerics. Particularly, this chapter draws attention to
the intimate connections of economic, social, and spiritual life in indigenous traditional societies. Unlike in Western society, in traditional culture these spheres could
not be separated. In this approach to reality, all economic and social activities, and
even amusements, were encompassed by or intertwined with religion.
Of this fact another important premise follows: we cannot single out native beliefs completely and examine them per se without addressing native environment,
economy, and social life. Second, my goal is to show that the worldview of the
three groups under discussion, like native beliefs in other areas, was concerned
with accumulating spiritual power for meaningful explanations of the surrounding
environment and for solution of various social and individual problems.
ECONOMY AND SOCIAL LIFE

Dena'ina
The Athapaskan-speaking Native American group the Dena'ina, occupied Kenai
area in southeastern Alaska. As did other groups who belong to the same language
family, in the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth century Dena'ina developed seminomadic hunting and fishing economies. However, they differed from
the Athapaskans of interior Alaska, who had more of a hunting culture, whereas
the Dena'ina displayed elements of both hunting and fishing economies. Dena'ina
southern groups hunted large animals, but depended more on river and sea fishing.
Regular seasonal salmon fishing was the most important food resource for the
Dena'ina, especially when the caribou population decreased on the Kenai Peninsula in the nineteenth century. The salmon fishing economy allowed the Dena'ina
to develop semisedentary lifestyle. Northern bands, though also fishers, relied more
on hunting. Generally, all Dena'ina devoted the spring and fall seasons to extensive tribal hunts of large game, when they would make collective drives and set up
fences to capture caribou. During these long hunting expeditions, the Indians left
their sedentary villages and moved to small mobile hemispherical structures. During the summer season whole villages moved to the fishing sites to harvest salmon
and prepare for winter. By the second half of the nineteenth century the fur trade
introduced nomadic patterns for all of the semisedentary Dena'ina population.2
It is difficult to estimate the Dena'ina population during the early contact period, the second half of the eighteenth century. At the end of the eighteenth century
they lived in semipermanent settlements with an estimated population of two hundred people per village. However, more definite data exist, provided by Russian
missionaries for later years. Parish accounts indicated that by the end of the nineteenth century the population of six major Dena'ina villages after being reduced
by epidemics varied from 48 to 197 people in each settlement. Missionary accounts of 1895-1896 show Dena'ina numbers at 2,507,3 and Joan Townsend
estimates that the Dena'ina population was approximately 3,000 at the end of the
Indigenous Landscapes
17
nineteenth century.4 The Indians maintained relationships with neighboring Yupik

and with Athapaskan groups through trade, war, and intermarriage. Incidentally, it
was from the Yupik that the Dena'ina, originally forest hunters, later adopted maritime living techniques that helped them survive in new surroundings.5
In referring to the Athapaskans and the Dena'ina in particular, scholars emphasize an extreme flexibility to adapt to new ecological conditions. James VanStone
writes that the Athapaskans "moving into different environments in most cases
readily borrowed techniques and technologies from the people already present
and accommodated these techniques within Athapaskan culture." He concludes,
"Traditional Athapaskan culture must be thought of as essentially an accommodating culture, and accommodation, in turn, greatly facilitated survival in a
demanding environment." Townsend also maintained that one of the most outstanding characteristics of the Dena'ina and apparently of the Athapaskans in general
was their extreme adaptability. She emphasized the respect for individual initiative
and the lack of excessive social sanctions, which gave them much freedom for
experimenting with alien values.6
Like the Tanaina used in earlier ethnographies, the name Dena'ina is superficial
and is a later anthropological construction. The Dena'ina bands spoke closely related dialects and lived in small communities, independent of each other. Later, as
a result of Russian and American colonization, epidemics, and subsistence changes,
they consolidated their villages, after which they apparently began thinking about
themselves as "the Dena'ina" and accepted this classification into a single entity.
Dena'ina society had changed so much by the middle of the nineteenth century
that it is difficult to speculate further about social organization during the precontact period. Still, it appears that in the early nineteenth century, consisting of
ten to fifteen matrilineal clans, Dena'ina kin relations followed a matrilineal system of succession. Consequently, women occupied an important place, controlling
the distribution of food and the marriage of their daughters. Even chiefs and headmen moved to the houses of their wives after marrying. During the nineteenth
century, an extended family occupying a large semisubterranean house was the
major social unit.7
Anthropological works point to the existence of an elite {qeshqa) and commoners (os'qala), although later contacts with the Russians enhanced this division.
The qeshqa status and prestige depended on accumulating riches and regularly
distributing them among other members of the community through the potlatch
ceremonies frequently described in anthropological literature. However, it was not
wealth itself or its distribution that fully defined qeshqa power and status, but the
ability to organize supporters for productive purposes that elevated one's position
and prestige. Qeshqa were enterprising individuals who introduced technological
innovations into Dena'ina society and were mindful of the well-being of their
community. This group of people provided the candidates for headmen positions,
along with the village shamans.8
18
Chukchi
In the early seventeenth century during the first contacts with the Russians, the
Chukchi were: inland nomads (reindeer hunters) and coastal dwellers (maritime
fishers and hunters). Inland hunters later switched to reindeer breeding and lived
in mobile iarangas, dwellings made from skins, while coastal residents resided in
the semisubterranean houses or permanent iarangas until the middle of the nineteenth century. Official census data show that the Chukchi population was 11,771
at the close of the nineteenth century, whereas Bogoras estimates 12,000. Of these
natives only 3,000 were maritime fishers.9
Before the seventeenth century, inland tundra natives concentrated on hunting
of wild deer along with fishing and srrcall-scale reindeer herding. From the eighteenth century the latter already dominated the entire native economy of northeastern
Siberia. Furthermore, the Chukchi herds along with the Koryak reindeer were the
most numerous among other indigenous groups.10 Although domestication of the
reindeer was on a rudimentary level, native herds were numerous and provided a
relatively stable food supply. The development of intensive reindeer herding started
during the colonization period because of weather fluctuations and a decline in
hunting. Igor Krupnik contends that the decision to breed reindeer involved favorable ecological conditions, a demand for reindeer skins, and the decline of both
intertribal conflicts and Russian-native clashes in the second half of the eighteenth
century. Specifically, Krupnik emphasizes the growth of the deer skin trade in the
northeast as the major impetus for the rise of the reindeer economy."
Other scholars have stressed that excessive hunting destroyed the wild deer, elk,
snow sheep, and bear populations and triggered the domestication of the reindeer.12 Krupnik disagrees and argues that the wild reindeer population decreased
more because of natural ecological fluctuations than of human interference. Whether
it was a result of overhunting, natural causes, or a combination of both, by the late
1700s the wild reindeer almost disappeared from northeastern Siberia. These
changes forced groups of Chukchi to intensify reindeer breeding, which previously was only a marginal economic component. The nomadic Chukchi had
completed this transition by the 1790s. As a result, inland natives became "fulltime" reindeer nomadic breeders.
The reindeer provided tundra nomads with everything: meat, skins, clothing,
shelter, items for trade. In addition, these animals served as a means of transportation. "The reindeer is all for these people," writes Richard Bush; "they furnish
them with food, raiment, transportation, and shelter."13 Krupnik stresses that the
reindeer provided the Chukchi with major staple products found in their native
economy. Consumption of trade goods such as flour, tea, and sugar remained minimal until the middle of the twentieth century.14 More importantly, as the
anthropologist Gapanovich emphasizes in a comparison of the northeastern Siberian reindeer economy and the American Indian hunting economy, the former better
protected people from the instability faced by Native American hunting communities.15
19
Changing into reindeer breeders eventually brought innovations to the Chukchi

social institutions and beliefs.16 Now a large part of their social and religious activities became concentrated around increasing of reindeer herds. Thus, the mass
slaughtering of the reindeer, which was usually conducted in August and September, was also the time of major rites and ceremonies whose meaning was deeply
related to this slaughtering process.17 The connection of a household with its reindeer herd was also expressed in anointment with deer blood of the faces of family
members during various rituals. A nomadic family and its herd were viewed as a
single whole. A large number of religious artifacts were used only within a household or band and were designated to protect the "reindeer prosperity" of this specific
family or band group. For this reason a nomadic household usually never agreed
to replace their ritual objects such as amulets with religious artifacts from another
family or a community in fear that it might result in decrease of the reindeer. Such
attitudes persisted throughout the nineteenth century and survived until modern
times.18
In search of pasture lands the Chukchi expanded to the west and to the south. In
the course of these movements they had to split their herds; this resulted in growing isolation of nomadic camps and even individual households. In the second half
of the nineteenth century this process accelerated. By the beginning of the twentieth century clan organization was weakened and disintegrated. In the nineteenth
century a patriarchal family headed by an ermichin, a "powerful man" or "headman," became a major unit of the Chukchi social life. Heads of these extended
family groups succeeded each other on the hereditary principle. Eventually, a territorial band based not necessarily on kin relations became the major unit of Chukchi
life.19 Analyzing these economic and social changes, Vdovin draws an important
conclusion, stressing that increasing independence of nomadic households and
families also led to independence in the matter of cult practice.20
Both in the tundra and along the coast the sovereign Chukchi bands lacked a
central authority or common identity. The result was that such definitions as "the
Chukchi" meant little to them. Argentov noted that the Chukchi "did not have any
name for themselves," from which he concluded that no organized Chukchi society existed.21 At the end of the eighteenth century, Sarichev, a pioneer observer of
northeastern Siberian natives, wrote that the Chukchi had "no chiefs or authorities." Each community had an influential individual, who was richer than the others
or had a larger family, but such persons were "little obeyed and had no right to
punish anybody."22 In the nineteenth century a typical inland Chukchi nomadic
camp consisted of three or four families of about twenty people with a joint herd
ranging from two to three thousand reindeer.23 These camps occasionally united
into larger social groups numbering 150 to 200 persons.
In 1910 the Russian governmental surveyor Kallinikov pointed to the lack of
kin organization of the Chukchi bands by noting that the Chukchi moved with the
herd not on a kinship but on a "comradeship basis," depending on the number of
their reindeer. He added that these nomadic "comradeships" constantly fluctuated.
In coastal areas two or three of such big families were united in a bidara artel (a
20
skin-boat crew) that served as a major social unit.24 Not only relatives but neighbors could also join this production group. In the nineteenth century the Chukchi
society living in both the tundra and maritime areas started dividing themselves
into either the rich or the poor. This practice was especially noticeable in the nomadic society, which defined itself as consisting of reindeer breeders and poor
"drifters." The latter did not own the deer but worked as herders for rich fellow
tribesmen or supported themselves by hunting and fishing.
Unlike their nomadic kin, the maritime Chukchi lived in sedentary villages numbering between fifty and one hundred people and practiced fishing and the hunting
of seals, sea otters, sea lions, and larger species like the bowhead, gray whales,
walrus, and beluga. Land animals did not occupy a large place in their economies.
Each settlement had one to three communal semisubterranean houses and a few
dozen family houses for use in the summer. In contrast to their northern Alaskan
counterparts, coastal groups of northeastern Asia did not leave maritime areas every summer to hunt wild caribou in remote inland regions. All necessary products
from inland like deer skins and meat they received through the trade with the
nomads. Furthermore, coastal residents developed a system of permanent exchange
by mediating with Alaskan natives, Russians Creoles, and nomadic camps in northeastern Siberia. Thus, unlike nomadic bands, sedentary communities were more
active in trade and cultural exchange with Russians and Americans.25
There were intensive population fluctuations between maritime natives and reindeer groups. The former, especially during a decline of sea hunting, frequently
moved into the tundra and joined the nomads. The inland residents who lost herds
journeyed to the coast and engaged in sea hunting or fishing. At the same time, in
the eyes of nomads, the coastal groups merited little respect because of the latter's
unstable subsistence. Sea hunting and fishing remained unpredictable and natives
faced frequent starvation.
When hunting and fishing in coastal areas were poor, reindeer camps frequently
served as a source of food supply to starving coastal communities. In such cases
nomadic natives provided large quantities of reindeer meat free of charge.26 Moreover, traditional philosophy of the Chukchi strengthened such regular benevolence
toward starving coastal and inland residents. The reindeer breeders viewed themselves not as owners of the herds, but as people who had been assigned by spirit
protectors of the reindeer to supervise these animals for the common benefit. The
circle of people who were expected to share the reindeer extended not only to
relatives and neighbors, but to sedentary coastal populations as well. The mass
slaughtering of the reindeer to help coastal populations, especially during periods
of severe starvation sometimes had a negative impact on the economic status of
the nomads.27 It appears that only with intensified American trade did some maritime communities upgrade their social position by acting as go-betweens for various
native, including inland reindeer breeders, and white groups.
Incidentally, ethnic processes reflected these regional situations: interior reindeer natives assimilated coastal populations, but not vice versa. Gurvich, who
examined the eighteenth-century ethnic dynamic in northeastern Siberia, concludes
21
that as a result of acceleration of reindeer herding nomadic Chukchi camps expanded, whereas the number of sedentary villages remained at the same level; this
suggests that some coastal residents migrated to the tundra. Thus, some maritime
Inuit people moved to inland areas, switched to reindeer herding and were gradually assimilated by the Chukchi nomads. During the nineteenth century this
assimilation of the Inuit by the Chukchi continued.28 In the west we find a similar
picture: by expanding to the Kolyma River the Chukchi assimilated the neighboring Chuvantsy. On the whole, in northeastern Siberia nomadic Chukchi eventually
came to occupy important social and economic roles. In addition, their geographical isolation and a relatively stable economy strengthened their ethnicity.29
Altaians
Like the other tribal definitions mentioned, the name Altaians is superficial.
Russian authorities coined and later ethnographers adopted this word defining related Turkic-speaking communities occupying the forests, grasslands, and
mountains of Altai, an area located in southwestern Siberia near the Russian-Mongolian and Russian-Chinese borders. Incidentally, it was the missionary Vasilii
Verbitskii, the author of the first comprehensive anthropological works about this
group of peoples, who introduced this definition into scholarship; it was accepted
by scholars and continues in use to the present day.30 In 1897 the Altaians numbered 20,273 individuals. Historically, the Altaians were divided into northeastern
semisedentary hunters and gatherers and southwestern nomadic stock breeders.
In the nineteenth-century administrative and travel jargon tribal units who resided in the northern and eastern Altai regions were usually described as "Black
(Chernevie) Tatars" because of the location of their habitats in dense "black" forests. Northeastern Altaians or "Black Tatars" included the Tubalars (in the area of
the Katun and Biya rivers), the Kumandins (around the Biya River), and the
Chelkans (the Lebed River area). Verbitskii and Vladimir Radlov (Wilhelm Radioff),
another nineteenth-century scholar, also included the Shors to this group of peoples.
Although modern Russian anthropology defines the Shors as a separate group, in
my work I follow a traditional classification because of numerous similarities and
connections between Shors' social, economic, and religious life and that of other
northeastern Altaians. The major areas populated by the Shors included the upper
reaches of the Tom River and its tributaries, the Kondoma and Mrass.
Among the nomadic Altaians to the south the following groups may be singled
out: the Telengits (the valley of the Chuia River), the Maimalar (the Maima River
area), and the Telesses and Teleuts, who resided in the Kemerovo area. Economically and politically the latter group occupied a transitional place between the two
geographical and cultural areas practicing both stockbreeding and forest hunting
along with gathering. The most numerous nomadic group was the Altai-Kizhi,
from the Katun river area; their numbers were apparently the reasons the Russians
applied this name to all other neighboring tribal groups. In addition, old Russian
22
sources and such nineteenth-century observers as Verbitskii frequently referred to

the Altaian nomads as Kalmuks.31
The major difference between two geographical groups of the Altaians was the
role of stockbreeding in their economy. A subsistence based on nomadic
stockbreeding was the center of the native economy in the southwest. The mountains and flat grasslands where the southwestern Altaians lived allowed them to
raise sheep, goats, cattle, and horses. The latter, as the most adaptable to the local
climate, dominated this nomadic pastoralism that depended on seasonal and climate changes. By the time native society first contacted the Russians, southern
and western Altaians had already developed divisions between the rich and poor.
Thus, in 1756, the year when south Altai was incorporated into the Russian state,
50 percent of the nomads either did no't have horses at all or owned two or three
horses, whereas the greater part of the horse herds were concentrated in the hands
of 21 percent their households.32 Unlike northeastern groups, which retained more
collectivist elements in their social structure, nomad bands knew a system of ranks
based on the number of cattle owned. Likewise, kin relations gave way to singlefamily units and patriarchy. Nevertheless, the hunting practices of southwestern
people continued a collectivist tradition, along with the use of pastoral lands.33
Unlike in the southwestern region, among the northern Altaians stockbreeding
was minimal because of the unfavorable environmental conditions. In 1899 it was
reported that 10 percent of households among the Shor did not have horses, 19
percent had no cattle at all, and only 0.7 percent had more than 20 head of cattle.34
Although both groups practiced sable hunting for commercial purposes, it was
only in the northeast that hunting as a subsistence activity dominated the native
economy. In the northeastern areas Altaian communities relied upon hunting sable,
squirrel, weasel, otter, fox, ermine, lynx, roe deer, maral elk, and wild goat. Fishing for salmon-trout, grayling, ide, and burbot provided another primary economic
supply, while collecting cedar nuts and natural honey, the third economic branch,
was also important. Thus, in response to the growing Russian demand for forest
nuts the natives reoriented their economy, and by the end of the nineteenth century
70 percent of the people in some communities turned to this commerce.
Yet, hunting continued to dominate the indigenous economy in the northeast.
For example, among the Kumandins collecting of nuts occupied as much of a
place in the native economy as hunting. Moreover, during the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries extraction of tribute in furs and growth of the Russian-native
fur trade industry boosted the Altaian hunting economy. Twice a year natives formed
hunting expeditions, one in winter and the other during the spring or summer
season. In the seventeenth century an Altaian hunter was able to obtain in a season
from ten to fifteen sable pelts, of which he had to deliver seven or eight to the
government as a tribute payment. By the beginning of the eighteenth century predatory hunting reduced the number of sables and Altaian hunters now were able to
catch only four to five sables in a season.35
Until the end of the nineteenth century Altaian hunting methods maintained the
tradition of tribal collectivism. Some Shors' myths mentioned large tribal hunting
23
parties for reindeer, marais, roe deer, and elk in which they set up collective enclosures to fence in the animals. At the turn of the present century they still distributed
their catch equally among all members of a clan irrespective of the number of
animals killed. The northeastern Altaians applied the same principles to other occupations such as fishing and gathering. However, at the beginning of the twentieth
century some nouveau riches Shors ignored this system. As a result, owners offish
nets started expecting to receive a larger share of the catch and some well-to-do
natives began renting the equipment to clan members in exchange for shares without taking part in the actual work.
In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the southwestern Altaians and some
northeastern Altaians lived in round felt or bark yurts, whereas northern Altai natives primarily resided in wooden tents (odag) made of beams, planks, and poles
covered with birch bark as well as low four-cornered wooden huts with a birch
bark roof. In the nineteenth century some Altaians in the northern areas, for instance, the Kumandins, adopted the log huts introduced by Russian settlers.36
A loose exogamic patrilineal clan (seok), translated as "bone/' of ten to forty
families served as the major social unit of these tribes. Earlier, in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries, these clans consisted of only kin-related people, but by
the nineteenth century, seoks occasionally included non-kin members. Still, at the
beginning of the twentieth century seok members called themselves karyndash,
meaning "from the same womb/' In the south the major economic and social unit
of the Altaians was a nomadic camp (ail) that united from three to five yurts that
belonged to relatives, and in the north a sedentary village called either ail or ulus,
which united from seven to twenty yurts or cabins in a style distantly resembling
that of Russian dwellings.37 A council of respected clan elders supervised a camp
or a village ruled by a headman (called pashtyks in the north and zaisan in the
south), who inherited his position and exercised little authority beyond his own
clan.38
The position of pashtykJzaisan was inherited until the second half of the nineteenth century. Colonial authorities did not interfere directly in internal clan affairs
and communicated only with native leaders. As early as the seventeenth century,
the Russian empire integrated Altaian leadership in the pursuit of Russian political
causes. Afterward, from the 1880s and especially at the turn of the twentieth century, Russian influences, at least in the northeast, made elections of native leadership
by the whole population the common practice. The major responsibility of the
Altaian headmen was collecting fur tribute and other taxes for the Russian government. As a result, the authority of these native leaders was primarily based on their
successfully mediating between colonial officials and their own clans.39
HOLISTIC WORLDVIEW AND SACRED POWER

Pre-contact and early contact indigenous beliefs varied so much in both Siberia
and northern native America and within the separate tribal groups that what is
24
called "native religion" often represented diverse individual and collective experiences. To define native worldviews as pure, unified "native religion" approaches
native philosophy from a European viewpoint. Unlike Western religious tradition,
indigenous beliefs stressed a personal spiritual improvisation. Except those scholars who examine native worldview from the phenomenological point of view
popular in religious studies, few current ethnohistorians draw broad parallels between native Siberians and Native Americans.
At the beginning of the twentieth century scholars such as Franz Boas, Waldemar
Bogoras, Waldemar Jochelson, and Robert Lowie tried to find similarities between
Siberian and American Indian worldviews. However, their efforts emphasized vague
genetic similarities and speculated about the diffusion of rituals and myths from
Siberia to North America. Lowie, for instance, found similarities between a few
Native American and Siberian elements: soul kidnapping as the dominant theory
of disease, shamans' songs, medicine men's and women's playing with fire, and
shaking of a lodge by shamans during their performances. As a result, he hypothesized that Siberia and North America formed "one gigantic unit from the angle of
religious belief."40
Though a few students of native Siberians and Native Americans adhere to this
type of interpretation (for instance, Galina Dzeniskevich and E. A. Okladnikova in
Russia and Karl Schlesier in the United States),41 current researchers avoid genetic parallels and prefer another interpretation, stressing common features in
geographical, environmental, and social conditions. It appears that this approach
is best represented by the works of Ake Hultkrantz, a religious scholar and anthropologist, who sees social and ecological similarities between indigenous peoples
in Siberia and those of northern Native America as preconditions for common
patterns of faith based on similar ecological niches.42
Hultkrantz nevertheless cautions scholars that his search for parallels between
native Siberia and American Indian beliefs appears as a "crude instrument" and
that a comparative approach should "be handled with care." Yet, he argues that
"from the religio-ecological perspective" native cultures in northern Siberia and
northern areas of North America constituted "the same type of religion " The analogies are cited: environmentally oriented worldviews, animal ceremonialism, and a
strong emphasis on shamanism.43 Like Hultkrantz, the anthropologist of religion
S. A. Thorpe contends that common patterns of shamanism existed. He underscores that a search for "a generalized overview of the religious orientations of
many different localized groups" does not lose its validity.44
Despite present-day cautious attitudes to comparative analogies, scholars hardly
dispute that a holistic approach to the environment is the most visible aspect of
indigenous beliefs, and some even prefer to define "native religions" in holistic
terms, seeing the whole scope of native beliefs as closely connected with land and
environmentally based activities. Accordingly, they describe these worldviews as
"land-based religions" or "religions of nature."45 Students of Native American and
Siberian societies argue that the traditional beliefs of these groups depended on
their ecological adaptations. The existing religious practices provided tools that
25
helped, for example, hunting and fishing.46 In their study of Dena'ina Indian
ethnohistory Ellanna and Balluta note that for a land-based society the ties between humans and flora, fauna, and other elements of nature were foremost. They
point out that the "hunter and gatherer cosmologies are holistic in nature" and
"mirror the ways that societies, within which they are operative, are ordered."47
In contrast to so-called Western religions, Siberian and Native American beliefs
generally did not separate the natural from the supernatural world, but integrated
them with other elements such as polity, economy and social order.48 Furthermore, dependence of native lifeways and economies and spiritual activity on the
unpredictable forces of nature did not allow creation of dogmatic structure or rigid
religious institutions. Rather, in their major approach to supernatural indigenous
beliefs they emphasized fluid individual religious experiences. In addition, Siberian native and American Indian worldviews did not picture a battle between sinister
and good forces for a final victory, something that Euroamericans, who had been
raised in the spirit of Judeo-Christian tradition, could not grasp.
It was hardly surprising that many missionaries concluded that natives practiced
no religion. Clerics who worked among the Indians believed that instead of genuine religion they found a few superstitions. Because of this false perception,
missionaries seriously maintained that they had come to fill a spiritual vacuum.49
Christianity views the earth as transitory, a preparation for the new order that will
tell the ultimate meaning of history. In contrast, native Siberians and American
Indians believed overall that the meaning of existence was already given and the
purpose of religious practice was to sustain or restore the equilibrium inherent in
nature. For this worldview, the most feared thing was the fragmentation of the
existing order, which disturbed "the balance so necessary for the survival of society."50
Animated spirits of animals, mountains, plants, and insects populated the native
universe, and people were to maintain constant contact with these "other human
beings." This idea made people act as an inseparable part of the natural system.
For example, no definitive borders between humans, animals, and other creatures
existed in Chukchi tradition. Human beings transformed themselves into animals,
or vice versa. Moreover, like people, all objects and species lived in communities.
Like other indigenous peoples of Siberia and North America, the Dena'ina, Chukchi,
and Altaians believed that spirits controlled all living things, the land, and all natural objects.
Each river, hill, and lake was endowed with its master-spirits. Osgood stressed
that Dena'ina animated the entire animal world and all natural objects, which were
endowed with less or more power. They were also expected to speak like human
beings. It was believed that stones, mountains, trees, and grass were able to talk
with people, and animals were viewed as simply a different kind of people.51
Bogoras reported that the Chukchi believed that each object possessed a "voice"
and expressed its will. Even human waste was animated. According to the Altaians
and the Chukchi, spirits moved around the earth monitoring people's behavior.52
26
One of the six words the Altaians used for defining souls of animals and plants and
the vitality of the whole organic world was tin, or "everything that moves, flies and
breathe;'* they believed that the souls moved to the other world, where the dead
herded them.53 This animism stunned missionaries when they tried to explain to
natives the Christian ideas of soul and spirituality. A missionary to the Altaians,
Verbitskii, asked one native woman not to sacrifice horses and to start contemplating her soul. He challenged the woman with the question "What is the most precious
for you: a horse or a soul?" In the missionary's interpretation, she responded that
her fellow tribesmen had forgotten about the soul.54
In the framework of indigenous worldview, people looked for rapport with surrounding spirits so that the world might remain balanced. According to the northern
Altaians' beliefs, each person depended upon surrounding spirits. Being only a
part of the world populated by animated spirits, people were concerned with maintaining positive relations with these "other human beings." In order to exist and
survive, they were expected to establish good relations with these "persons," who
demanded appropriate and respectful conduct. These relations were reciprocal and
resembled those existing in human society.55 Thorpe notes, "It was necessary to
establish communication with spirit realms so that holistic harmony, once disrupted, might be reinstated. Communication, then, lay very close to the core of
their holistic religious orientation."56
In this context, indigenous peoples approached hunting, trapping, fishing, and
other daily occupations as both economic and religious activities. The success of
an individual in hunting was also a proof of his abilities to act according to the
requirements of forces of the universe. In the 1930s, Frank Speck, an ethnologist
studying northern Native American hunting culture, introduced a scholarly metaphor to stress such a link between indigenous religion and ecology, calling native
hunting a "sacred occupation."57
Surrounding spirits displayed ambivalent attitudes and provided good or bad
medicine, depending on an individual's behavior. The Chukchi worldview treated
the same spirits as being either benevolent or aggressive. By the time of the first
intensive contacts with the Russians the Altaians, who had been earlier exposed to
Lamaism, had developed a concept of two major "gods" (good and bad); however,
they demonstrated the same lack of a strict dichotomy between "evil" and "good"
in a Christian sense. The "good god," Ulgen, created human bodies, and his brother
Erlic, the "bad god," guarded human souls. These two superior beings were inseparable because they were brothers and had equal powers. Since happiness, health,
and luck in the hunt depended on both of them, natives brought sacrifices to appease both.58 However, since Ulgen helped all people equally, he did not require
much.59 But to buy the benevolence of Erlic, who challenged people more frequently, they gave numerous stock offerings. Perception of Ulgen as one of these
two supreme deities was apparently a later creation under the influence of the
Mongols in the nineteenth century. Ethnographies of the eighteenth century do not
say anything about Ulgen. Ancient heroic epics of the Altaians do not mention him
27
either. As recently as the end of the nineteenth century the Teleuts applied this
name to both the supreme deity and all sky spirits.60
Periodic communication with and cajoling of spirits were especially important
for hunting tribes. There was something mysterious about pursuing animals, and
success during the hunt was unpredictable. As a result, "where the sphere of relative well-being ended, in those spheres people had to rely on ritual."61 Among the
Altaians the hunting expedition was so abundantly filled with religion that the
hunting itself was something sacred.62 During hunting expeditions the Shors stopped
and "fed" the spirits of the mountains, of the campfire, and of the hunting hut.
They brought on the hunting expedition a special person with the responsibility to
enlighten hunters about local spirits and who was generally knowledgeable in native mythology.63
The Altaian hunting party followed strict rules and regulations: it was forbidden
to curse and shout. The hunters also used metaphoric names for animals. In the
same vein, the Dena'ina made offerings to the mountain spirits during hunting
expeditions, practicing appropriate and specific actions like remaining quiet and
not singing. Like Altaians, they avoided ordinary language and relied on special
names for all surrounding things.64 The Chukchi, reindeer breeders honored the
spirits who owned the pasturelands.
Current ethnohistorical scholarship stresses that the native search for additional
medicine power eventually sought resolutions for daily problems and prevention
of disruptions. Holler indicates that the essence of "traditional" religions was a
search for the spiritual power to survive in this world.65 Those who were able to
gain supernatural power could use it for either helpful or harmful purposes.66
Hultkrantz notes how some northern peoples in Siberia and also in North America
graded shamans according to the level of exercised power, setting apart strong
from weak shamans. In addition, indigenous leadership did not depend solely on
bravery, intelligence, and individual abilities, but also "on the power of the chief's
medicine."67
It is also important that this approach to sacred power allowed experimentation
with various beliefs and rituals if they might provide helpful medicine. Along with
their own sacred power, the traditions of neighboring tribes and then also Christianity were potential sources for this medicine.68 The craft of communicating
with spirits was an unending process that operated without any fixed rules and was
far from an established religion. An 1862 conversation between Verbitskii and
Ebiske, a headman from northern Altai, demonstrated this approach to the supernatural. Ebiske asked Verbitskii how many times God gave the Russians written
laws and how frequently he sent instructions from the sky, but did not accept
Verbitskii's explanations about the origin of the Old and New Testaments. Instead,
the native insisted that he had heard that the "white man's czar" received his new
holy book from the sky each year.69
Native beliefs were constantly filtered through personal, tribal, and other spiritual experiences.70 Hultkrantz observed that American Indian traditions emphasized
the direct experience of spiritual power through dreams and visions. He added that
28
the sacredness and prestige of these striking revelations often resulted in the modification or replacement of previous traditional elements.71 The Altaians invited
shamans from different communities, considering them more powerful than their
own; nomadic and sedentary groups also sought the help of each other's spiritual
practitioners.72 Likewise, the Dena'ina sought help from neighboring Yupik shamans. These frequent exchanges were continued later, when they borrowed various
European religions. Kenneth Morrison, a researcher of Micmac Christianization,
stresses that their traditional religious system provided no simple or easy solutions. Instead, it was a constant search for better remedies that could include
Christian beliefs, depending on particular circumstances.71
This power approach to beliefs served as a tool for adaptation to the surrounding
environment and left no place for Christian salvation, because there was no original sin. Native religions were equally concerned with well-being in this world and
in the afterlife. For instance, students of the Altaian beliefs stress that for these
natives the afterlife was essentially a continuation of the worldly existence.74 The
Chukchi exemplified the same stance. I. W. Schklovsky, who visited them at the
end of the nineteenth century, reported how one native used a funeral ceremony
for a deceased woman as a good opportunity to return tobacco he had borrowed
from a friend who had already passed away.75 Although they are "distorted mirrors/' missionary accounts from both Siberia and Alaska also clearly point to such
attitudes. In 1866, Verbitskii tried to persuade a native woman from northern Altai
to accept baptism. To his surprise, Verbitskii found out that "according to her reasoning, happiness constitutes the only well-being in this world." At the end of the
nineteenth century such an approach to spiritual life stunned N. B. Sherr, another
visitor to the northern Altaians. Having noticed such a general stance of native
beliefs distinct from Christian ethics, Sherr started to stereotype the Altaians as
"materialists" little interested in things "which go beyond the sphere of material
interests" and "indifferent to the internal essence of religion." Nestor, a missionary
who worked in northeastern Siberia, complained that the most notorious aspect of
the native beliefs in northeastern Siberia was that "shamanism is in charge of only
the material side of the life and does not contain any morality."76 Nestor stressed
what in his view was a "notorious practicality" of indigenous beliefs. He wrote
that northeastern Siberian natives "bribed" spirits by bloody sacrifices "in hope to
receive riches, health and well-being in this life."77
In 1902 Petelin, a missionary to the Chukchi, described a group of unbaptized
reindeer natives from the Chevina River, who politely agreed to listen to his words,
but were very skeptical about his Christian message. In the missionary's interpretation, their response was as follows:
They listened to me very attentively, but to my regret, I noticed that their faces showed
doubt in my words. Living the life full of hardships and dangers, these natives respect only
awesome crude power, which should be punishing and avenging and which they can use to
their benefit, when the opportunity presents itself. The reason their shamans enjoy such re-
29
spect and influence is simply because natives view them as persons who are endowed with
such power. As for Christian religion, the religion of peace and love, its high ideas are
hardly understandable to the natives. They require from Christianity evident manifestation
of power to be used for practical life.78
In the same vein, European observers of indigenous religions in native North
America argued that "Indian religion" reinforced a "moral ambiguity." The "deals"
between human beings and spirits or "other human beings" pointed to a utilitarian
approach of indigenous beliefs.79 Moreover, those scholars who currently idealize
so-called native wisdom and traditional peoples' supposed ecological awareness
cannot deny this practical approach of indigenous peoples to their surrounding
world.80
INDIGENOUS SHAMANISM IN SEARCH FOR SACRED POWER

Since communication with the sacred world and a search for additional spiritual
power occupied an important place in indigenous beliefs, a shaman stood at the
center of the religious system.81 Hundreds of special studies and popular works are
available on the topic of shamanism. Current romanticization of the primitive has
contributed considerably to the popularity of the entire theme. Yet, with the exception of MirceaEliade's classic Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy*2 (1964),
only a few works compare Native American and Siberian shamanisms. Those works
that are available (including Eliade's) treat this subject from the phenomenological point of view, widespread in religious studies. The most recent examples include
S. A. Thorpe's Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers and J. A. Grim's
The Shaman: Patterns of Siberian and Ojibway Healing P
Hultkrantz, one of the major proponents ofthat approach, supports the concept
of a Siberian/American Indian "shamanistic complex" offered by earlier scholars.
He maintains that North American shamanism is close to Siberian shamanism and
"could without doubt be regarded as an attenuated prolongation of the latter."84 In
both areas we find parallels such as shamanistic journeys to a supernatural world
to convince masters of the game to release the animals, as well as retrieval of lost
souls. Also, in both regions medicine men and women performed shamanistic seances that involved spirits who shook the tent.85 In the same manner, Thorpe writes,
"It has been generally accepted by most scholars of Native American religions that
Native American spiritual leaders, especially those from the northern hunting tradition, belong within the shamanistic complex."86 Another religious scholar, Rhonda
Packer, in her comparative research on four Native American shamanisms, among
the Haida, Pawnee, Yurok, and Mohave, also comes to the conclusion that beliefs
of these particular groups "display the closest resemblance to the Eurasian shamanism."87
The early twentieth-century Russian anthropologist Bogoras considered shamanism a religion in itself and insisted on interpreting this phenomenon as a stage
30
in the religious development of all societies, in keeping with evolutionary concepts of his time. Some modern researchers, like the well-known student of Altaian
ethnohistory Leonid Potapov, also view shamanism as a form of indigenous religion.88 However, Innokentii Vdovin, A. P. Okladnikov, and some other Russian
scholars disagree with this view and treat shamanism as a specific functional aspect of some indigenous religions, which stresses communication between the
shaman and spirits.89 This varied assessment of shamanism (religion or not) only
proves the elusive and fluid character of indigenous beliefs that do not fit into
European categories of religion. It appears that the very nature of shamanistic
performances consists of conducting improvised negotiations with and making
offers to spirits; this characteristic defies any attempt to pigeonhole these rituals as
a religion with specific codes and ceremonies that must be followed.
Eliade also discussed shamanism in terms of the communication between a shaman and supernatural beings. He argued that it represented the soul flight and the
ecstatic experience to establish a dialogue with sacred celestial spirits.90 In one of
his later works Eliade defined shamanism by a neutral term, "a belief system," and
stressed that "the shamans have played an essential role in the defense of the psychic integrity of the community."91 This approach to shamanism goes back to the
Russian migr anthropologist Sergei Shirokogoroff, who had in 1919 already
offered a similar interpretation, although tinged with psychoanalysis, stressing the
meditative role of shamans who helped native communities cope with sickness,
change, and stress.92
Researchers further generalize the position of the shaman as a restorer of psychic equilibrium. They examine how clients of indigenous spiritual brokers were
mostly people and groups in crisis.93 These scholars stress that shamanism received much wider acclaim in so-called crisis-prone societies, which were primarily
societies of hunters, gatherers, or nomads, who gambled their existence on unpredictable conditions of natural habitat. In contrast to agricultural societies, who
lived according to a calendar-based cycle, "crisis" groups solely depended on exterior forces that they could hardly control.
Most recent anthropological research assails the discussion of shamanism as an
ideal construction, as Eliade had in his classic work. Instead, current anthropologists correctly put emphasis on the social and political functions of the phenomenon.
Caroline Humphrey notes that shamanism was not a reflection about the world,
but an action on the world. Native healers responded to the needs of communities,
and that role automatically placed shamanism in the context of power relationships. Hamayon notes that the holistic background of shamanism was not important
in itself. Rather, its significance was associated with the uncertainty that should be
symbolically overcome. Therefore, a shaman acted as a person who prevented
panic and brought the individual or the community back to normal daily life.94 In
this regard, shamanism as an adaptive strategy used by native societies to cope
with changing reality deserves special attention. In trying to reach harmony and
balance shamans served as representatives of their own clan or community in another world. As a result, they were not only mediators, but an embodiment of the
31
sacred life of the whole group, acting as spiritual brokers who worked within the
spirit world in order to restore equilibrium. The very structure of the shamanistic
seance reflected attempts to establish reciprocal communication with the spirit
world.95
Though the primary role of shamans was as healers, that did not exhaust their
duties.96 For instance, Townsend observes that the Dena'ina shamans also performed as "magicians" and "priests." Among the Altaians, their work ranged from
fortune-telling to curing and responding to all extraordinary communal incidents,
but they did not interfere with regular events such as marriage, childbirth, or death.
Instead, involvement happened only when something unusual took place that demanded communication with spirits to help restore normality. For example, when
game food became scarce the involvement of a shaman was crucial: in this role,
the shaman embodied "all at once, the community's healer, the mystic, and the
intellectual."97 As was noted, Shirkogoroff was the first to indicate the social
aspects of the shamanic activities. He stressed that native healers helped indigenous communities to overcome stresses and radical changes. Indigenous societies
treated the process of healing not only as simple curing of ailments but as a general
restoration of cultural, economic, and political balance. Hamayon writes, "Nowhere is the shaman only a healer, and nowhere the only healer." She adds that the
shaman performed other important activities, such as rainmaking, war making,
and sending of diseases, that had nothing to do with healing.98
Thorpe correctly indicates that "in primal communities" health is not only the
mere absence of disease: "it includes present well-being, prosperity and fertility."
On all occasions, shamans acted as restorers of a disrupted order and were necessary for the survival of society.99 Ripinsky-Naxon shares this approach and stresses
that a shaman was not "merely a healer of disease, but also a restorer of balance to
social dysfunction." Juha Pentikainen, who indicated that a shaman combined the
roles of healer, priest, fortune-teller, and politician, notes that society "elects him
-and puts him/her into office."1(X) The German-American anthropologist Schlesier,
who looked for genetic parallels between Siberian and Cheyenne shamanism, summarized the basic functions of indigenous shamans as follows: (1) to maintain
harmony between the physical and the spiritual world; (2) to protect communal
areas symbolically against intruders and internal abuse; (3) to assist annual ceremonies of earth regeneration; (4) to approach the Earth Spirit ceremonially in
order to provide animals for their communities; (5) to cure ill members of their
community; (6) to guard souls of the dead safely in the spirit world.101
At the same time, the variety and multiple functions of shamans make any
generalization or classification attempts very speculative. After examining the Tofa,
a small Siberian group numbering only between 430 and 440 people, Dioszegi
found sharp differences among individual shamans in almost everything, from
rituals and techniques to the duration of the shaman's illness.102 Recent studies of
Asian shamanism have questioned the validity of any general models, considering
instead the wide variety of tribal and personal shamanistic experiences and
worldviews.103 Despite these differences, Thorpe reminds researchers of the com-
32
mon characteristics shamanism shares. He calls for an approach that balances the
religious studies method, which treats religion as a separate realm, and that of
anthropology, which views it as part of wider culture.104 Most agree that the major
purpose of shamanizing was to achieve stability and prosperity for a community
through spiritual tools.105
In his research on the Altaians Sagalaev provides a good metaphor for a definition of the place occupied by these spiritual mediators: "Shamanism was like a
central nerve of the traditional Altai culture that maintained its unity/'l()6 Balancing spiritual, economic, and social life in a community placed a greater responsibility
on the spiritual leader. Shamanistic performances required concentration, imagination, and considerable interpersonal skills. Because they had to prove their
capabilities, shamans did not enjoy established niches that automatically granted
them a permanent authority, but had a shaky status.107 The prestige and political
influence of the shaman in the society depended not only on his or her skill and the
nature of spiritual power, stressed Gilberg, but also on the ability to maintain a
harmonious balance between the people and their environment, to manipulate the
social life of the individuals, and to control the relationships among the citizens of
the society by settling their quarrels.108 The status of the shaman constantly changed
and directly depended upon a supporting culture, its economy, the nature of its
social structure, and its practice of religion as a whole. If shamans successfully
used their power, they enjoyed social status as well as economic and political influence, whereas frequent failures undermined their prestige.l09
Siberian and Native American ethnohistories provide numerous examples of
competition for power between shamans. The Altaian, Chukchi, and Dena'ina shamans were frequently involved in an open rivalry and practiced public contests to
demonstrate superiority over each other. Shirokogoroff wrote about a continual
state of war among the shamans. This perpetual struggle for status or "duels on a
nonmaterial level" represented an integral component of shamanism in native communities.110 Thus, the Dena'ina shamans arranged regular public performances
not only to display their powers and to maintain prestige among the people, but
also to compete with rivals within a group or from other communities.1 lJ Such a
stance found a reflection in oral history of native peoples. Thus, a large part of the
Chukchi mythology deals with stories that praise the deeds of the shamans and
relate their struggle with their spiritual competitors. Such competition for power
caused N. A. Alekseev to conclude that shamans cursed more than cured and unscrupulously manipulated their fellow tribesmen.112 Hamayon, however, judges
shaman rivalry as a positive feature, stressing that the constant competition forced
them to introduce innovations into their art to keep up with their rivals.113
The character of initiation for the shamanistic profession provides additional
evidence of the large responsibility placed on shamans. In Siberia and North
America individuals turned to shamanism after receiving a vision or a revelation
or any other communication with spirits during a dream or sickness or, for instance, from a voice heard during the hunt. The Dena'ina designated shamans by a
specific word, el'egen, meaning "like a dream," pointing to the way people ac-
33
quired shamanistic power. Among the Dena'ina the personal gift of shamanic art
was a choice made by the spirits. Chosen persons who wanted to avoid being
shamans battled the spirits, but if they failed to resist or relinquished the battle,
then they had to live with this "assignment" until death. Therefore a Dena'ina
could become a shaman even against his or her personal wishes.114
In the same vein, a selected Altaian could not avoid the involuntary initiation by
spirits. In the Altai area a chronic sickness served as a direct message to become a
shaman. The Shors, a northern Altaian group, believed that when spirits "found" a
person, they "reported" this to Erlic, a "bad" god, one of the major Altaians deities. In his turn Erlic sent to such a person his messengers, evil spirits, who forced
disease on the chosen native. The pressure from dead spirits of ancestors forced an
Altaian to accept the shaman profession despite any reluctance. Fighting back was
impossible and resulted in punishment by spirits, who made the individual mentally sick, crippled, or even dead. As a result, a would-be shaman stayed ill before
he or she submitted to the power of the spirits and became a shaman. After this a
practicing medicine man usually visited the novice and gave him or her necessary
training.115 Such initiation through sickness helps explain why early observers and
students of shamanism referred to this "profession" as a mental ailment.116
As among the Chukchi and Altaians, among the Dena'ina both men and women
were shamans. After stressing their "great importance" for the community, Osgood
noted the multipurpose function of a Dena'ina shaman, who, as in other indigenous societies of Siberia and Alaska, was a "doctor, prophet and high priest."117
The Dena'ina also drew a distinction between little and big medicine men and
women, "bad" and "good" ones. In addition, spiritual practitioners belonged to the
wealthy qeshqa rank. If they gained enough power, they could even occupy the
position of chief.118 During their sessions Dena'ina shamans used a special outfit,
a caribou skin parka and an apron decorated with bird claws, and used hand rattles
and masks. Osgood found that drums were rarely used and that the Dena'ina shamans used instead simple wooden planks, which had been painted according to
the dreams received by their owners. One of the major parts of the shamanistic
session was, as missionaries called it, "devil" or "bewitched" doll, which represented a miniature human figure and served as a healing tool absorbing sickness
from a human body.119 On the whole, Dzeniskevich notes that generally the performances of Athapaskan and Dena'ina shamans in the nineteenth century differed
little from those of their Siberian counterparts.120
Like the Dena'ina and Altaians who treated spiritual functions as a special vocation, the Chukchi had "professional" shamans who experienced a spiritual crisis
that served as a forceful invitation to their assignment. This crisis could mean a
disease or a call from some sacred animal such as a wolf or a walrus. At the same
time, scholars note that in the Chukchi society shamans were not so actively involved in a regular cycle of feasts and sacrificing, unlike, for instance, among the
Altai, whose spiritual leaders were directly responsible for sacrifice and regular
clan cults. Moreover, the Chukchi shamanism developed outside many family and
band cults. Andrei Argentov, a Russian missionary who observed the Chukchi in
34
the 1850s, wrote: "The shamans are not responsible for public ritual services. A
head of each household himself performs his own religious rites. During public
gatherings a host, who invited other people, usually plays the role of the priest/'121
Basically each Chukchi could practice some elements of shamanistic ritual. Some
Chukchi selected the shamanistic vocation in the hope of gaining wealth and prestige.122 Others could perform the ritual in an attempt to heal a sick relative. Also,
both "professionals" and "practicing laymen" are not reported to have used a special costume. Among the reindeer Chukchi, heads of bands usually conducted
seasonal ceremonies that were related to regular economic cycles such as reindeer
slaughtering. Occasionally a head of a family or one of its members did all the
drumming and dancing. Harald Sverdrup, a Dutch explorer, who spent six months
among the Chukchi, stressed that "drumming, singing, and dancing take place in
every tent in the fall, when the four to five month old calves have been slaughtered
for skins for clothing."123 Each family owned its religious artifacts and a drum,
which was accessible even to the Chukchi children. Jochelson and Bogoras, wellknown students of northeastern Siberian native peoples at the beginning of the
century, called this "family shamanism."124
On the whole, the greater part of the Chukchi religious life was concentrated
within a band, especially among the nomadic populations. This might be explained
by territorial isolation of the Chukchi communities from each other, which apparently originated from the demands of the reindeer economy, which required small
band camps.125 However, Chukchi, especially reindeer communities, drew a border between professional shamans, who were recognized for their qualifications,
and numerous practicing laymen, whereas maritime communities did not make
such distinctions. The field of shamans' competence was the most extreme situations that required terminating the impact of harmful spirits, for example, in cases
of sickness or reindeer die-offs. A Chukchi medicine man primarily dealt and negotiated with kelet, harmful evil spirits, whom natives viewed as their major enemies.
Therefore, the most widespread function of the Chukchi medicine men and women
was actual healing of sick people. Establishing connections with the spirits of
ancestors was another sphere of the shamans.
On the basis of these facts, Innokentii Vdovin concludes that the Chukchi practiced two types of shamanizing. The first type ("casual sessions") was designed for
public occasions and based on family and band cults, whereas "special sessions"
were performed by a shaman and sought to establish connections with harmful
evil spirits and divert their attention from a community.126 On the whole, Chukchi
groups were familiar with the "classical" type of shamanism, which was oriented
to protecting a band and its individual members from "bad medicine" and devoted
to communication with harmful spirits through powerful evening seances.127
Ethnohistorical scholarship refers to Altai shamanism as a classic example of
this institution.128 Satlaev indicates that among the Kumandin, a northern Altaian
group, shamanism bore a "clearly professional character," and shamans received
livestock or money as a reward. Alekseev notes that among the Shors shamans
occupied a privileged position and ordinary people treated them with awe. Still,
35
despite this specialization and high esteem, these spiritual brokers lived like other
ordinary stock raisers, and, on balance, income from shamanizing did not support
their material well-being. In cases of sickness, epidemic, or other incidents, Altaian
shamans supervised sacrificial offerings to the principal "bad" god, Erlik. In Altaian
shamanistic performances these offerings reached tremendous proportions. The
Kumandin slaughtered the best horses, cows, or sheep to satisfy Erlic and other
spirits. The annual quantity of killed livestock numbered hundreds of heads. Satlaev
argues that this custom damaged the Kumandin economy.129 It was understandable that missionaries missed no chance to assail these sacrifices. It also should be
noted that among the Altaians the shamanic call fell not on anybody, but was expected to visit men and women who traditionally belonged to "shamanizing"
families. Setting limits to the establishment of potential medicine makers might
point to the beginning of professionalization of this vocation in Altai.
Another aspect of the Altaian shamanism places it apart from Chukchi and
Dena'ina shamanisms. Until the beginning of the eighteenth century, Altai experienced strong Mongolian influences in social, political, and ideological life. While
northern Altaians became politically and economically absorbed by the Russian
empire in the seventeenth century, southern nomads continued to maintain close
relationships with the Mongolian world. However, these connections were ambivalent. On the one hand, we may see many linguistic borrowings made by the
Altaians from western Mongolia and similarities in economic and social life, especially in stockbreeding. On the other hand, in the seventeenth century Dzhungaria,
a western Mongolian kingdom, subjugated and imposed heavy tribute on all of
Altai.
The Mongolians also sought to implant Lamaism and subjected traditional shamanism to severe persecution. However, it appears that Dzhungarian attempts to
eliminate the indigenous Altaian worldview produced a tradition of strong resistance to foreign ideological intrusions. Such a tradition was especially noticeable
among the southwestern nomads, who became involved in a long struggle against
Dzhungarian attempts to bring the Altaians into the sphere of influence of the
Lamaist ideology. Pieces of nomadic folklore collected in modern times distantly
reflect the intensity of this struggle. Interestingly, whereas Mongolian legends
emphasize the victory of lamas over kams (shamans), which reflected an establishment of Lamaism as the dominant religion in Mongolia, Altaian storytellers,
on the contrary, stressed that in such showdowns shamans were winners. S. A.
Poduzova and A. M. Sagalaev, students of Altaian ethnohistory, indicate that despite the acceptance of the Mongolian religion by some tribal chiefs, Lamaism did
not become in Altai an influential force. The result of the conflict between
Dzhungarian and Altaian ideologies was that for Altaian nomads shamanism was
not only a "religious affiliation," but a strong ethnic marker that separated them
from aliens.130
In conclusion, despite significant differences in economic, social, and political
structure and worldview, the three groups discussed carried many similarities in
their belief systems. A few students of the Altaian beliefs, who stress the necessity
36
of researching this kind of similarity, have caught the character of primal beliefs
by stressing their "fluidity," "openness," and "infinity."131 The Altaian, Chukchi,
and Dena'ina beliefs were not institutionalized and were devoted to maintaining
balanced relationships between people and natural forces that were animated and
treated as part of the living world (the "other human beings"). From this viewpoint, all daily occupations and occurrences such as hunting, fishing, marriages,
and even conflicts were treated as spiritual occupations. Second, following the
interpretation offered in the collective symposium The Anthropology of Power ym
which contends that native power should be approached not only from purely
materialistic or political angles, but in a broader sense of the word, the present
work suggests that the concept of power provides a convincing interpretation of
the character of indigenous beliefs. Accumulation of medicine power meant a continuing search for spiritual tools to cope with existing reality. To be successful in
protecting the social integrity of their community and their personal balance, native peoples were expected to generate spiritual/medicinal power. The latter was
acquired as a result of the dialogue with natural forces, so that social and political
disruptions, epidemics, and personal failures in hunting or fishing were all ascribed to the lack of good medicine.
Although everybody in native societies could be a carrier of strong medicine, the
responsibility for a dialogue with natural forces on behalf of the whole community
lay on shamans. Involuntarily elected by spirits through a shamanic call or a psychological ailment, they performed collective rituals to treat physical or social
diseases or disruptions. This chapter places indigenous beliefs and shamans' activities in the social and political context of power relations. Indigenous medicine
men and women could accumulate spiritual power or they could lose it. Through
their performance and competition with each other they sought to convince surrounding people of their spiritual force. Their positions were naturally shaky, open
to constant scrutinizing, and their exercise of power was controlled by the community.133 Not surprisingly, shamans attempted to borrow medicine power from as
many sources as possible and were generally open to innovations, including both
neighboring bands' beliefs and Christianity. They readily blended their own rituals
with ceremonies of the other groups. The Christian religion apparently represented
one such source. It might be suggested that this stance later served as a background for a dialogue between native beliefs and Christianity.
NOTES
1. Mary Young, "Pagans, Converts, and Backsliders All: A Secular View of the Metaphysics of Indian-White Relations," in The American Indian and the Problem of History,
ed. Calvin Martin (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), 79; Melissa L.
Meyer, The White Earth Tragedy. Ethnicity and Dispossession at a Minnesota Anishinabe
Reservation. 1889-1920 (Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1994), xiii.
2. Cornelius Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina (New Haven, CT: Human Relations
Area Files Press, 1976), 26, 31; Robert E. Ackerman, The Kenaitze People (Phoenix, AZ:
37
Indian Tribal Series, 1975), 22-24; James Arthur Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918" (Ph.D. diss., University of Wisconsin, Madison, 1981), 216; Joan B.
Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina" (Ph.D. diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 1965), 72,99; idem, 'The Tanaina of Southwestern Alaska:
A Historical Synopsis," Western Canadian Journal of Anthropology, no. 2 (1970): 5, 7;
Linda J. Ellanna and Andrew Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhttana: The People of Nondalton
(Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 268; William W. Fitzhugh, "Economic Patterns in Alaska," in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed.
William W. Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), 191; Ioann Bortnovsky, "Kenaiskaia Missiia (Istoriko-Statisticheskoe
Opisanie)," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger!, no. 18 (1898): 531.
3. Bortnovsky, "Kenaiskaia Missiia," 531.
4. Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina," 99.
5. Idem, "Tanaina of Southwestern Alaska," 7-8; Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina,
73-75.
6. James W VanStone, Athapaskan Adaptations: Hunters and Fishermen of the Subarctic Forests (Chicago: Aldine Publishing Company, 1974), 125; Townsend, "Tanaina of
Southwestern Alaska," 8, 15.
7. VanStone, Athapaskan Adaptations, 8; Townsend, "Tanaina of Southwestern Alaska,"
8; Ackerman, Kenaitze People, 27; Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhttana, 58.
8. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhttana, 268-271.
9. S. A. Arutiunov, "Chukchi: Warriors and Traders of Chukotka," in Crossroads of Continents. Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell
(Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), 41.
10. Yu. V. Chesnokov, "Olen' v Kulture Severo-Vostochnikh Paleoaziatov," in Kultura
Narodov Sibiri, ed. Ch. M. Taksami, Iu. A. Kupina and E. G. Fedorova (St. Petersburg:
Muzei Antropologii i Etnografii RAN, 1997), 76.
11. Igor I. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations: Native Whalers and Reindeer Herders of Northern Eurasia (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England for Dartmouth College, 1993),
. 177, 183.
12. Innokentii S. Vdovin, Ocerki Istorii i Etnografii Chukchei (Moskva and Leningrad:
Nauka, 1965), 10; Waldemar (Vladimir) Jochelson not only believed that overhunting drove
natives to reindeer herding, but considered scarcity of animal populations in the Arctic as a
sufficient motive for discontinuing the hunting economy. Waldemar Jochelson, "Kamchadal
Materials," Box 6, Waldemar Jochelson Papers, Rare Books and Papers Manuscript Division, New York Public Library, 37.
13. Richard James Bush, Reindeer, Dogs, and Snow-Shoes: A Journal of Siberian Travel
and Explorations Made in the Years 1865, 1866, and 1867 (London: S. Low, Son, and
Marston, 1871), 373.
14. Igor I. Krupnik, "Economic Patterns of Northeastern Siberia," in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell
(Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), 189-190.
15.1.1. Gapanovich, Kamchatskie Koryaki: Sovremennoe Polozhenie Plemenie iZnachenie
ego Olennogo Khoziastva (Tientsin, China: A. J. Serebrennikoff & Co., 1932), 5.
16. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 175,161, 164, 174; Anthony Leeds, "Reindeer Herding
and Chukchi Social Institutions," in Man, Culture, and Animals: The Role of Animals in
38
Human Ecological Adjustment, ed. A. Leeds (Washington, DC: American Association for
the Advancement of Science, 1965), 102.
17. Chesnokov, "Olen' v Kulture Severo-Vostochnikh Paleoaziatov," 76, 78.
18. Ibid., 74-75.
19. Innokentii S. Vdovin, "Social Foundation of Ancestor Cult among the Yukagirs,
Koryaks and Chukchies," in Shamanism in Siberia, ed. V. Dioszegi and M. Hoppal (Budapest:
Akademiai Kiado, 1978), 415-416.
20. Ibid., 417.
21. Andrei Argentov, "Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago Prikhoda," Zapiski Sibirskago
Otdiela Imperatorskago Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva 3, no. 1 (1857): 90.
22. Waldemar [Vladimir] Bogoras, The Chukchee (New York: AMS Press, 1975), 543;
the Krause brothers, who visited the Chukchi peninsula in 1881/1882, similarly stressed,
"Nowhere did we find traces of a political community; only the head of the family exercises
power over its members." Aurel Krause and Arthur Krause, To the Chukchi Peninsula and
to the Tlingit Indians 1881/1882: Journals and Letters by Aurel and Arthur Krause
(Fairbanks, AK: University of Alaska Press, 1993), 69.
23. Vladimir I. Vasil'ev, "Social Structure of the Peoples of Northeastern Asia," in Anthropology of the North Pacific Rim, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Valerie Chaussonnet
(Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994), 269,271 ; Chesnokov,
"Olen' v Kulture Severo-Vostochnikh Paleoaziatov," 78.
24. N. F. Kallinikov, Nash Krainii Sievero-Vostok (St. Petersburg: Tip. Morskogo
Ministerstva, 1912), 56.
25. S. A. Arutiunov, "Koryak and Itelmen: Dwellers of the Smoking Coast," in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Aron
Crowell (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), 31; I. I.
Krupnik, "Economic Patterns of Northeastern Siberia," 184, 188, 185.
26. Arutiunov, "Chukchi: Warriors and Traders of Chukotka" 39; William W. Fitzhugh,
"Crossroads of Continents: Review and Prospect," in Anthropology of the North Pacific
Rim, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Valerie Chaussonnet (Washington, DC, and London:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994), 40; Gapanovich, Kamchatskie Koryaki, 38; Bush,
Reindeer, Dogs, and Snow-Shoes, 373.
27. Vladimir (Waldemar) Jochelson, "Zametki o Naselenii Iakutskoi Oblasti v IstorikoEtnograficheskom Otnoshenii," Zhivaiia Starina 5, no. 2 (1895): 165; Chesnokov, "Olen' v
Kulture Severo-Vostochnikh Paleoaziatov," 80.
28. Il'ia S. Gurvich, Etnicheskaia Istoria Severo-Vostoka Sibiri (Moskva: Nauka, 1966),
117, 189.
29. Arutiunov, "Chukchi: Warriors and Traders of Chukotka," 40; Il'ia S. Gurvich, "Interethnic Ties in Far Northeastern Siberia," in Anthropology of the North Pacific Rim, ed.
William W. Fitzhugh and Valerie Chaussonnet (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 1994), 313, 315-316.
30. Vasilii I. Verbitskii, Altaitsy (Tomsk: Tip. Gubernskago Pravleniia, 1870); idem,
Atlaiskie Inorodtsy: Sbornik Etnograficheskikh Statei i Izsliedovanii (Moskva: Izd. Etnogr.
Otd. Imp. Obshchestva Liubitelei Estestvoznaniia, Antropologii i Etnografii, 1893).
31. Andrei M. Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa (Novosibirsk: Nauka, Sibirskoe otd-nie,
1992), 143. At the same time, Dmitri Funk stresses a relative character of all these divisions
and points that the Altaians thought about themselves in terms of clans and later when the
39
latter disintegrated, in terms of small territorial units. Dmitri A. Funk, "Bachatskie Teleuty
v XVIII-Pervoi Chetverti XX Veka: Istoriko-Etnograficheskoe Issledovanie," in Teleuty,
ed. Y.B. Simchenko (Moskva: Institut Etnologii i Antropologii, 1993), vol 2, 11. During the
first Russian census in 1917-1920 many Altaians were tallied down as "persons of unknown nationality," a practice that points to the artificial division of the natives into mentioned
groups. E.P. Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov v XIX-Nachale XX V. V.," in Teleuty, ed. Y.
B. Simchenko (Moscow: Institut Etnologii i Antropologii, 1992), vol. 1, 220.
32. N. S. Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai: Polticheskie, Sotsialno-Ekonomicheskie i
Kultumie Otnosheniia (XVII-XIX VV) (Gorno-Altaisk: Izd-vo Gorno-Altaiskogo
Universiteta, 1996), 85-87. See the latter work about social and economic life of the southwestern Altaians. In English the most informative sources are Lawrence Krder, "A Nativistic
Movement in Western Siberia," American Anthropologist 58, no. 2 (1956): 282-292; L. P.
Potapov, 'The Altayas," The Peoples of Siberia ed. M. G. Levin and L. P. Potapov (Chicago; University of Chicago Press, 1964), 305-341.
33. The anthropologist L. P. Potapov put it this way: "A characteristic feature of the
village commune among the Altaians was the combination of private ownership of the
livestock and communal use of the Crown land." Leonid P. Potapov, Ocherki po Istorii
Altaitsev (Moskva : Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR, 1953), 249.
34. Idem, 'The Shors," in The Peoples of Siberia, ed. M. G. Levin and L. P. Potapov
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), 452; about economic and social life of the
northeastern Altaians see: Tsentralnii Statisticheskii Komitet Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Diel,
Tomskaia Gubemiia: Spisok Naselennvkh Miest po Sviedieniiam 1859 Goda (St. Petersburg: Tip. Karla Vulfa, 1868), Lxxxvii; Verbitskii, Atlaiskie Inorodtsy, 17,24; Valerii Kimeev,
Shortsy, Kto Oni?: Etnograficheskie Ocherki (Kemerovo: Kemerovskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo,
1989), 88-89, 93-94.
35. Potapov, "Shors" 447; N. B. Sherr, "Iz Poezdki k Kumandintsam v 1898 Godu,"
Altaiskii Sbornik, no. 5 (1903): 103; N. S. Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 92.
36. Nikolai M. Iadrintsev, Sibirskie Inorodtsy, Iikh Byt i Sovremennoe Polozhenie (St.
Petersburg: Izd. I. M. Sibiriakova, 1891), 101; Konstantin V. Elnitskii, Inorodtsy Sibiri i
Sredneaziatskikh Vladienii Rossii: Etnograficheskie Ocherki (St. Petersburg: Izd. M. M.
Gutzatsa, 1908), 45; Verbitskii, Altaiskie Inorodtsy, 23; Potapov, "Altayas," 314; idem,
"Shors," 456; Kimeev, Shortsy, Kto Oni? 79.
37. E. P. Batianova, "Altaitsy," in Sibir: Etnosy i Kultury (Narody Sibiri v XIX V) (MoskvaUlan Ude: Institut Etnologii i Antropologii RAN and Vostochno-SibirskaiaGosudarstvennaia
Akademia Kultury i Iskusstv, 1995), 57.
38. A. V. Anokhin, Materialypo Shamanstvu u Altaitsev, Sobrannye vo Vremia Puteshesvia
po Altaiu v 1910-1912 GG. Po Porucheniiu Russkogo Komiteta Dlia izucheniia Srednei i
Vostochnoi Azii (Gorno-Altaisk: Ak Chechek, 1994), 23. About the seok see Funk,
"Bachatskie Teleuty v XVIII-Pervoi Chetverti XX," 42-48; N. A. Todina, "Altaiskii Seok
Kak Orientir v Etnosotsialnoi Sisteme Obshcheniia," in Aborigeny Sibiri: Problemy
Izucheniia Ischezaiushchikh Iazikov i Kultur, Proceedings of the International Conference
(Novosibirk: Iz-vo Instituta Arkheologii i Etnologii Sibirskogo Otdeleneiia RAN, 1995),
234-237.
39. Potapov, "Shors," 459; Moskovskie Tserkovnie Viedomosti, no. 52 (1886): 791;
Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov v XIX-Nachale XX VV," 208.
40
40. Robert H. Lowie, "Religious Ideas and Practices of the Euroasiatic and North American Areas," in Essays Presented to C G. Seligman, ed. E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Raymond
Firth, Bronislaw Malinowski and Isaac Schapera (London: Kegan Paul, 1934), 187.
41. Galina Dzeniskevich, "American-Asian Ties As Reflected in Athapaskan Material
Culture," in Anthropology of the North Pacific Rim, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Valerie
Chaussonnet (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994); E. A.
Okladnikova "Sibirskie Istoki v Pokroe i Dekore Odezhdi Indeitsev Iazikovoi Semii NaDene," in Amerikanskie Indeitsi: Novie Fakti i Interpretatsii, ed. V. A. Tishkov (Moscow:
Nauka, 1996), 251-266; Karl H. Schlesien The Wolves of Heaven: Cheyenne Shamanism,
Ceremonies and Prehistoric Origins (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987).
42. Ake Hultkrantz, "North American Indian Religions in a Circumpolar Perspective," in
North American Indian Studies: European Contributions, ed. Pieter Hovens (Gottingen,
West Germany: Edition Herodot, 1981), 18; idem, "North American Indian Religions in A
Circumpolar Perspective," 11-27; idem, "An Ecological Approach to Religion," Ethnos,
no. 31 (1966): 131-150; idem, "Religion and Ecology among the Great Basin Indians," in
The Realm of the Extra-Human: Ideas and Actions, ed. Agehananda Bharati (The Hague:
Mouton, 1976), 137-150; idem, The Study of American Indian Religions (Chico, CA: The
Crossroads Publishing Co, 1983), 131-132.
43. Idem, "North American Indian Religions in a Circumpolar Perspective," 16, 13, 1.5.
44. S. A. Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers: A Comparative
Study of Shamanism in Siberian Asia, Southern Africa and North America (Pretoria: University of South Africa, 1993), 43, 22.
45. Juha Y. Pentikainen, "Introduction," in Shamanism and Northern Ecology, ed. Juha
Pentikainen (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996), 8-10; Harold Hickerson,
"Fur Trade Colonialism and the North American Indians," Journal of Ethnic Studies, no. 1
(1973): 13; Christopher Vecsey, "American Indian Environmental Religions," in American
Indian Environments: Ecological Issues in Native American History, ed. Christopher Vecsey
and Robert W. Venables (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1980), 2.
46. Adrian Tanner, Bringing Home Animals: Religious Ideology and Mode of Production
of the Mistassini Cre Hunters (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1979); Robin Ridington,
Trail to Heaven: Knowledge and Narrative in a Northern Native Community (Iowa City:
University of Iowa Press, 1988).
47. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhttana, 285.
48. Ibid., 285-286; Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers, 132; Vecsey,
"American Indian Environmental Religions," 11 ; D. V. Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov
(Kemerovo: Kemerovskii Gosudarstvennii Universitet, 1993), 62.
49. John Webster Grant, Moon of Wintertime: Missionaries and the Indians of Canada in
Encounter Since 1534 (Toronto and Buffalo: University of Toronto Press, 1984), 18, 24.
50. Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers, 134-135.
51. Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina, 169.
52. Vdovin, "Priroda i Chelovek v Religioznikh Predstavleniiakh Chukchei," 233, 245;
Ackerman, The Kenaitze People, 40; Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina, 169; Argentov,
"Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago Prikhoda," 95; Anokhin, Materialypo Shamanstvu
uAltaitsev, 6; Gapanovich, Kamchatskie Koryaki, 49; S. la. Serov, "Guardians and SpiritMasters of Siberia," in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed. William
41
W. Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution
Press, 1988), 244.
53. Vasilii Verbitskii, "Zapiski Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi
Missii za 1866 God," Pravoslavnoe Obozrienie 22, no. 2 (1867): 171, 173; Anokhin,
Materialypo Shamanstvu uAltaitsev, 19; idem, "Dusha i Eiyo Svoistva po Predstavleniam
Teleutov," in Dmitri A. Funk, Teleutskoe Shamanstvo: Traditsionnie Etnograficheskie
lnterpretatsii i Novie Issledovatelskie Vozmozhnosti (Moskva: Institut Etnologii i
Antropologii, 1997), 202.
Missii za 1864 God," Pravoslavnoe Obozrienie, no. 2 (1865): 273.
55. Kimeev, Shortsy, Kto Oni?, 116; D. V Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov
(Kemerovo: Kemerovskii Gosudarstvennii Uiversitet, 1993), 119; Roberte N. Hamayon,
"Shamanism: A Religion of Nature?" in Circumpolar Religion and Ecology: Anthropology
of the North, ed. Takashi Irimoto and Takako Yamada (Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press,
1994), 114; Jean-Guy Goulet, "A Christian Dene Tha Shaman? Aboriginal Experiences
among a Missionized Aboriginal People," in Shamanism and Northern Ecology, ed. Juha
Pentikainen (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996), 350; Vdovin, "Priroda i
Chelovek v Religioznikh Predstavleniiakh Chukchei," 243.
56. Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers, 1-2.
57. Harvey A. Feit, "Dreaming of Animals: The Waswanipi Cre Shaking Tent Ceremony
in Relation to Environment, Hunting, and Missionization," in Circumpolar Religion and
Ecology: An Anthropology of the North, ed. Takashi Irimoto and Takako Yamada (Tokyo:
University of Tokyo Press, 1994), 291.
58. Feofan A. Satlaev, Kumandintsy: Istoriko Etnograficheskii Ocherk (XIX-Pervoi
Chetvert XX veka) (Gorno-Altaisk: Gorno-Altaiskoe Otd-nie Altaiskogo Knizhnogo Izdva, 1974), 147-164; Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov, 100-106; Lev P. Mamet,
Oirotiia: Ocherk Natsionalno-Osvoboditelnogo Dvizheniia i Grazhdanskoi Voini na Gornom
Altae (Gorno-Altaisk: Ak Chechek, 1994), 40-41 ; Leonid P. Potapov, Altaiskii Shamanizm
(Leningrad: Nauka, Leningradskoe Otd-nie, 1991), 245-260; V I. Verbitskii, Altaiskie
Inorodtsy: Sbornik Etnograficheskih Statei IIzsliedovanii Altaiskago Missionera (Moskva:
T-vo Skoropechatni A. A. Levenson, 1893), 43-44; V. P. Diakonova, "Religioznie
Predstavleniia Altaitsev i Tuvintsev o Prirode i Cheloveke," in Priroda i Chelovek v
Religioznikh Predstavleniakh Narodov Sibiri iSevern, ed. Innokentii S. Vdovin (Leningrad:
Nauka, 1976), 268.

59. M. Shvetsova, "Altaiskie Kalmiky," Zapiski Zapadno-Sibirskago Otdela
Imperatorskago Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva, no. 23 (1898): 11.
60. Funk, "Bachatskie Teleuty v XVIII-Pervoi Chetverti XX Veka," 206-207.
61. E. L. Lvova, I. V Oktiabrskaia, A. M. Sagalaev, M. S. Usmanova, Traditsionnoe
Mirovozrenie Tiourkov Juzhnoi Sibiri (Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1980), 197.
62. Ibid., 113; Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 90.
63. E. L. Lvova, I. V Oktiabrskaia, A. M. Sagalaev, M. S. Usmanova, Traditsionnoe
Mirovozrenie Tiourkov Juzhnoi Sibiri, 114.
64. Ackerman, Kenaitze People, 44.
65. Clyde Holler, Black Elk's Religion: The Sun Dance and Lakota Catholicism (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1995), 213.
66. Grant, Moon of Wintertime, 18-19.
42
67. Ake Hultkrantz, "Ecological and Phenomenological Aspects of Shamanism," Shamanism in Siberia, ed. V. Dioszegi and M. Hoppal (Budapest: Akademiai Kiado, 1978), 35;
Michael Ripinsky-Naxon, Nature of Shamanism: Substance and Function of a Religious
Metaphor (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1993), 64.
68. Kerry Abel, Drum Songs: Glimpses of Dene History (Montreal: McGill-Queen's
University Press, 1993), 121.
Missii za 1862 God," Pravoslavnoe Obozrienie 10, no. 2 (1863): 152.
70. S. M. Shirokogoroff, Psychomental Complex of the Tungus (New York: AMS Press,
1980), 272.
71. Ake Hultkrantz, Native Religions of North America: The Power of Visions and Fertility (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987), 21.
72. Verbitskii, "Zapiski Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii
za 1864 God," 72.
73. Kenneth M. Morrison, "Montagnais Missionization in Early New France," in Major
Problems in American Indian History, ed. Albert L. Hurtado and Peter Iverson (Lexington,
MA: D. C. Heath and Co., 1994), 113-114.
74. Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov, 62, 90.
75. I. W. Shklovsky ("Dioneo"), In Far North-East Siberia (London: Macmillan and
Co., 1916), 145.
za 1866 God," 167; Sherr, "Iz Poezdki k Kumandintsam v 1898 Godu," 102; Hiermonk
Nestor, Moia Kamchatka: Zapiski Pravoslavnogo Missionera (Moskva: Sviato-Troitskaia
Lavra, 1995), 80.
77. Nestor, Moia Kamchatka, 80.
78. Mikhail Petelin, "Putevoi Zhurnal Missionera Chukotskoi Missii, Elombaiskago Stana,
Sviashchennika Mikhaila Petelina za 1902 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 16 ( 1903):
344.
79. Kimeev, Shortsy, Kto Oni?, 115; Anokhin, Materialy po Shamanstvu uAltaitsev, 2;
Grant, Moon of Wintertime, 19.
80. David Kinsley, Ecology and Religion: Ecological Spirituality in Cross-Cultural Perspective (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1995), 21.
81. The word shaman, which originates from the Tungus saman, was introduced into
literature for the first time at the end of the seventeenth century by Avvakum, a famous
Russian Orthodox priest, who was exiled to Siberia for his heretical views and who had a
chance to observe a shamanistic performance of the Tungus. Hamayon, "Shamanism: A
Religion of Nature?" 110; Pentikainen, "Introduction," 13.
82. Mircea Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1972).
83. John Grim, The Shaman: Patterns of Religious Healing among the Ojibway Indians
(Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987); Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers. See more about existing concepts of shamanism in Peter T. Frst,
"Introduction: An Overview of Shamanism," in Ancient Traditions. Shamanism in Central
Asia and the Americas, ed. Gary Seaman and Jane Day (Niwot, CO: University Press of
Colorado, 1994), 128; Pentikainen, "Introduction," 1-21.
43
84. Ake Hultkrantz, The Religions of the American Indians (Berkeley: University of
Califonia Press, 1979), 86.
85. Hultkrantz, "Ecological and Phenomenological Aspects of Shamanism," 53.
86. Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men and Traditional Healers, 129.
87. Rhonda Packer, "Sorcerers, Medicine-Men, and Curing Doctors: A Study of Myth
and Symbol in North American Shamanism" (Ph.D. diss., University of California Los
Angeles, 1983), 213.
88. Potapov, Altaiskii Shamanism, 84-115; D. V. Katsuba, who has similar views and
who extensively quotes Potapov, named one of the sections of his recent book on the Teleuts'
worldview "Shamanism as Religion." Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov, 94-98.
89. See the reviews of Russian/Soviet studies of shamanism: Innokentii S. Vdovin, "The
Study of Shamanism among the Peoples of Siberia and the North," in The Realm of the
Extra-Human: Agents and Audiences, ed. Agehananda Bharati (The Hague: Mouton, 1976),
261-273; M. M. Balzer, "Introduction," in Shamanism: Soviet Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia, ed. Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer (Armonk, NY: M. E.
Sharpe, 1990), vii-xviii; V. N. Basilov, "Chto Takoe Shamanstvo?" Etnograficheskoe
Obozrenie, no. 5 (1997): 3-16.
90. Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, Hamayon, "Shamanism: A Religion of Nature?" 111.
91. Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, 206.
92. S. M. Shirokogoroff, Opyt Izssledovaniia Osnov Shamanstva u Tungusov 'Vladivostok:
Tip. Oblastnoi Zemskoi Upravy, 1919), 47-59.
93. R. Gilberg, "How to Recognize a Shaman among Other Religious Specialists?" in
Shamanism in Eurasia, ed. Mihaly Hoppal (Gottingen: Edition Herodot, 1984), 27;
Hultkrantz, "Ecological and Phenomenological Aspects of Shamanism," 35.
94. Caroline Humphrey, "Shamanic Practice and the State in Northern Asia: Views from
the Center and Periphery," in Shamanism, History and the State, ed. Nicholas Thomas and
Caroline Humphrey (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1994), 191-193, 224;
Hamayon, "Shamanism: A Religion of Nature?" 121; Gilberg, "How to Recognize a Shaman among Other Religious Specialists?" 26; Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa, 122.
95. Mamet, Oirotiia, 41 ; Anna-Leena Siikala and Mihaly Hoppal, Studies on Shamanism
(Helsinki: Finnish Anthropological Society, 1992), 127; Thorpe, Shamans, Medicine Men
and Traditional Healers, 39.
96. Hultkrantz, "Ecological and Phenomenological Aspects of Shamanism," 35; Mircea
Eliade, "Shamanism: An Overview," Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade (New
York and London: Macmillan, 1987), vol. 13, 206.
97. Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina," 302, 303; N.
A. Alekseev, "Shamanism among the Turkic Peoples of Siberia," in Shamanism: Soviet
Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia, ed. Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer
(Armonk, NY, and London: M. E. Sharpe, 1990), 92; Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, 181; Ripinsky-Naxon, Nature of Shamanism, 64.
98. Shirokogoroff, Psychomental Complex of the Tungus; Jean Comaroff, "Medicine,
Symbol and Ideology," in The Problem of Medical Knowledge: Examining the Social Construction of Medicine, ed. P. Wright and A. Treacher (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press, 1982), 49-65; Hamayon, "Shamanism: A Religion of Nature?" 111.
44
Shamanism and
Christianity
100. Pentikainen, "Introduction," 11; Ripinsky-Naxon, Nature of Shamanism, 65.

101. Schlesier, Wolves of Heaven, 41.
102. Vilmos Dioszegi, 'The Problem of the Ethnic Homogeneity of Tofa (Karagas) Shamanism," FolkBeliefs andShamanistic Traditions in Siberia, ed. Vilmos Dioszegi and Mihaly
Hoppal (Budapest: Akademiai Kiado, 1996), 181- 235.
103. Caroline Humphrey with Urgunge Onon, Shamans and Elders: Experience, Knowledge and Power among the Daur Mongols (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 1 ; D. A. Funk,
"Zametki o Shamskom Panteone Teleutov (Bozhestvo Too-Kaan)," in Problemy Etnicheskoi
Istorii i Kultury Tiurko-Mongolskikh Narodov Iuzhnoi Sibiri, ed. D. A. Funk (Moskva:
Institut Etnologii i Antropologii, 1994), 153.
105. Interestingly, Hamayon, in discussing this pragmatic nature of shamanism, uses the
word goods in a reference to sacred goals of shamanistic performances. Hamayon, "Shamanism: A Religion of Nature?" 121.
106. Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa, 125.
107. A. Kelemen, "Medicine Man Personality and Shamanic Worldview," in Shamanism
in Eurasia, ed. Mihaly Hoppal (Gottingen: Edition Herodot, 1984), 185. Roberte Hamayon
adds, "The shamans' power is strictly dependent on his efficiency. He enjoys authority not
by being a shaman but by proving useful as such." Roberte N. Hamayon, "Shamanism in
Siberia: From Partnership in Supernature to Counter-Power in Society," in Shamanism,
History, and the State, ed. Nicholas Thomas and Caroline Humphrey (Ann Arbor: The
University of Michigan Press, 1994), 81.
108. Gilberg, "How to Recognize a Shaman among Other Religious Specialists?" 27.
109. Shirokogoroff, Psychomental Complex of the Tungus, 273; Anna-Leena Siikala,
"Shamanism: Siberian and Inner Asian Shamanism," Encyclopedia of Religion, ed. Mircea
Eliade (New York and London: Macmillan, 1987), vol. 13,208; Ripinsky-Naxon, Nature of
Shamanism, 62.
110. Alekseev, "Shamanism among the Turkic Peoples of Siberia " 87; Ackerman, Kenaitze
People, 47; Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina," 304;
Shirokogoroff, Psychomental Complex of the Tungus, 371 ; Holger Kalweit, Shamans, Healers, and Medicine Men (Boston and London: Shambala, 1992), 193.
112. Siikala and Hoppal, Studies on Shamanism, 129; Balzer, "Introduction," viii.
113. Hamayon, "Shamanism: A Religion of Nature?" 118.
114. Galina I. Dzeniskevich, Atapaski Aliaski: Ocherki Materialnoi i Dukhovnoi Kultury:
Konets XVHI-Nachalo XX V (Leningrad: Nauka, 1987), 82; Ackerman, Kenaitze People,
48; Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina, 181.
115.1. D. Khlopina, "Iz Mifologii i Traditsionnikh Religioznikh Verovanii Shortsev," in
Etnografiia Narodov Altaia iZapadnoi Sibiri, ed. A. P. Okladnikov (Novosibirsk: Nauka,
1978), 78. Vladimir Basilov, a Russian student of shamanism, drew attention to this involuntary character of shamanic vocation in the title of an article: Vladimir Basilov, "Chosen
by Spirits," in Shamanic Worlds: Rituals and Lore of Siberia and Central Asia, ed. Marjorie
Mandelstam Balzer (Armonk, NY, and London: M. E. Sharpe, 1997), 3-48.
116. Verbitskii, Atlaiskie Inorodtsy, 44; A. N. Araviiskii, "Shoriia i Shortsi," in Shorskii
Sbornik, no. 1 (1994): 100-102; V. G. Bogoraz, "K Psikhologii Shamanstva u Narodov
Severo-Vostochnoi Azii," Etnograficheskoe Odozrenie, no. 1-2 (1910): 6.
45
117. sgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina, 177.

118. Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina," 305, 308;
Ackerman, Kenaitze People, 48.
119. Osgood, Ethnography of the Tanaina, 177-179; Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina," 302, 303.
120. Dzeniskevich, Atapaski Aliaski, 81.
121. Argentov, "Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago Prikhoda," 93.
122. Waldemar [Vladimir] Jochelson, The Koryak (New York: AMS Press, 1975), 103;
Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, 251; Siikala/Hoppal, Studies on Shamanism, 5-6.
123. Harald U. Sverdrup, Among the Tundra People, trans. Molly Sverdrup (La Jolla,
CA: Scripps Institution of Oceanography University of California, San Diego, 1978), 167.
124. Jochelson, Koryak, 48; Siikala, "Shamanism: Siberian and Inner Asian Shamanism," 213; Vdovin, "Study of Shamanism," 265.
125. Innokentii S. Vdovin, "Chukotskie Shamany i Ikh Sotsialnie Funktsii," in Problemy
Istorii Obshchestvennogo Soznania Aborigenov Sibiri, ed. Innokentii S. Vdovin (Leningrad:
Nauka, 1981), 182-183.
126. Ibid., 191-191,200.
127. Serov, "Guardians and Spirit-Masters of Siberia," 246; Bogoras, Chukchee, 31 A,
413, 421; Siikala and Hoppal, Studies on Shamanism, 3; Siikala, "Shamanism: Siberian
and Inner Asian Shamanism," 209; Hultkrantz, "Ecological and Phenomenological Aspects
of Shamanism," 34.
128. See the most recent analyses of Altaian shamanism: Potapov, Altaiskii Shamanism;
Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa, 104-126; Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov, 94-106;
Funk, Teleutskoe Shamanstvo.
129. Alekseev, "Shamanism among the Turkic Peoples of Siberia," 84,86,92-93; Katsuba,
Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov, 100, 62-63, 86; Satlaev, Kumandintsy, 158.
130. S. A. Poduzova, A. M. Sagalaev, "Iz Istorii Shamanstva na Altae," Izvestiia Sibirskogo
Otdeleniia Akademii Nauk SSSR, Seria Obshchestvennikh Nauk 6, no. 2 (1983): 113.
131. E. L. Lvova, I. V. Oktiabrskaia, A. M. Sagalaev, M. S. Usmanova, "Traditsionnoe
Mirovozrenie Tiourkov Iuzhnoi Sibiri kak Predmet Etnograficheskofo Issledovania," in
Traditsionnie Verovania i Byt Narodov Sibiri, ed. I. N. Gemuev and A. M. Sagalaev
(Novosibirsk: Nauka Sibirskoe Otdelenie, 1987), 86.
132. The Anthropology of Power: Ethnographic Studies from Asia, Oceania, and the
New World, ed. Raymond D. Fogelson and Richard N. Adams (New York: Academic Press,
1977).
133. Hamayon, "Shamanism in Siberia," 81.
Missionary Landscapes in Siberia and

Alaska
And my speech and preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but
in demonstration of the Spirit and power.
1 Corinthians 2:4
They wandered in deserts and mountains, in dens and caves of the earth.
Hebrews 12:38
Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them and said, 'Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will be
no means enter the kingdom of heaven."
Matthew 18:17
Without addressing why Orthodox missionaries ventured into Siberia and Alaska,
their organizational structure, and their perceptions of native northerners, it will be
difficult to understand the specifics of indigenous-missionary encounters. If missionary-native relationships were a dialogue that transformed both groups, equal
attention must be given to both sides of this encounter.1 For better understanding
of missionaries' culture we should examine their biographies as well as personal
and doctrinal motives that drove clerics to borderlands and the adjustments they
made to adapt their practices to the native environment. Although we have a few
pioneering studies of the sociology of Christian missions among native peoples in
various parts of world,2 still we do not have work that addresses the history of
Russian missionary culture and politics. In addition to a discussion of the evolution of the Orthodox missionary enterprise during the nineteenth century, this
chapter considers ideas and values that shaped the worldview of Russian missionaries and their attitudes toward native peoples. I am also interested in metaphors
that clerics used in describing their missionary journeys. Another important element of my discussion are the images and stereotypes of indigenous groups and
48
shamanism that the Orthodox messengers constructed during their evangelization

work.
"IN SEARCH OF RELIGIOUS EXERCISES": COLD DESERT AS A

METAPHOR
Siberian and Alaskan missionary accounts and writings of Orthodox authors
highlight that the monastic northern tradition stood as a powerful force that drove
"Russian evangelists" to the eastern borderland frontier.3 Sixteenth- and seventeenth-century monks' experiences in the European Russian north and Siberia set
the pattern for later professional Orthodox missionaries. As late as the nineteenth
century many missionaries still felt obliged to gain a monastic background to qualify
for the role of a missionary.
In The Russian Orthodox Church in the North A. V. Kamkin explores the development of the early Orthodox church in the Russian north. Kamkin underscores
that some monasteries gradually evolved into missions. Monks started to put more
stress on missionary activities in those northern areas where the environment did
not encourage agricultural pursuits and began organizing as religious enterprises
that combined monastic and missionary activities.4 The Valaam monastery, located on Lake Ladoga in northern Russia, had a long history of contacts with the
Saami, a traditional people in the northern part of European Russia. Their customs
and philosophical outlook were reminiscent of native northerners living in Siberia
and Alaska. Incidentally, this monastery paved the way for Russian missionary
activities in Alaska.5 In 1794, eight Valaam monks arrived in Alaska and founded
the Alaska Mission. These "Orthodox messengers" were "simply part of this
centuries-old missionary heritage of the Russian Orthodox Church," stresses Mark
Stokoe.6 From the thirteenth century to the middle of the eighteenth century Russian monastic communities mushroomed in the northern forests and in the arctic
wilderness. Uninterested in missionary work in itself, they nevertheless created an
economic and spiritual basis for later missionary expansion into the eastern borderlands. Though relatively independent actors, in the seventeenth century Siberian
monasteries became agents of Russian colonization through economic activities
and particularly the fur trade.7
Formally, clerics entered the wilderness of the Russian frontier searching for an
experience to prove their asceticism. Monks looked for an ideal place that could
remind them of the Biblical desert and help them renounce the pleasures of life.
By doing so the monks could deny themselves worldly goods and fight temptation, becoming perfect Christians.8 Russian Orthodoxy substantially rejuvenated
the early Christian tradition that symbolized the desert as a testing ground where
Christian holymen could polish themselves and later attempt miracles as ancient
desert fathers. Living apart from the rest of human society, close to nature and to
the "animistic paganism of non-Christian tribes," allowed them to dwell on God's
involvement in all of creation.9 The metaphor of the desert was transplanted to the
Missionary Landscapes
49
Russian environment as a northern desert, where severe cold and ice replaced the
extreme heat of the biblical desert. Monasteries populated by hermits and novices
supervised by monks spread throughout the Russian North and Siberia and became known as the "Russian Thebaid," a derivation from "Egyptian Thebaid."10
The Russian north, Siberia and later Alaska provided ideal opportunities to nourish qualities of humility and to educate clerics in the readiness for "heroic deeds."11
"In search of religious exercises," stressed Smirnoff, "the colonist-monks went
into the forests and there settled near rivers and lakes. The hollows of trees, mudhuts, or hastily knocked-up log cabins served them as habitation. "12 By the turn of
the nineteenth century, the furthermost outpost of this tremendous Orthodox monastic journey was the Alaskan mission, opened in 1794 and staffed exclusively by
monks from the Valaam monastery.
The form changed but the essence of the metaphor remained the same: the northern desert was a testing ground for Russian holy men. Whether it was hot or cold in
the desert was not important; rather, it was the wilderness and its numerous challenges that became meaningful for Orthodox experience. In researching the
"Russian Northern Thebaid," the theologian Ivan Kontzevitch argued that northern desert was in no way inferior to its "African archetype." Russian hermits and
monks who fled to the eastern borderlands "in their spiritual power, the might of
their ascetic life, and the height of their attainments were equal to the Fathers of
the first centuries of Christianity." Both in Russia and in Egypt there were the same
"poetic activity" and "the same silence." l v To survive in the desert, where one
confronted Satan, divine assistance was necessary. After all, Christ himself had
paved the way for his followers by fasting forty days in the wilderness.
Not surprisingly, the essence of the missionary way was to repeat Christ's journey or the journeys of his Biblical disciples. According to official church doctrine,
each missionary was to imitate Jesus' desert activities. In this context, self-denial
and humility were the most popular ideal patterns to follow.14 The Russian church
pushed this desert analogy to an extreme. The image of a Christian ascetic who
followed evangelical principles set by St. Paul, lived amid the wildlife, and "socialized" with animals became a favorite metaphor both in church and in missionary
literature. Historians of Orthodoxy who referred to this aspect of the Russian church
doctrine note "a religious masochism of massive proportions." "Imitation of Christ,"
writes Daniel Rancour-Laferriere, "is not some fuzzy, distant ideal for the religious Russian. It means concrete, physical and/or mental suffering." Richard Pipes
also emphasizes such elements of Orthodoxy as patient acceptance of one's fate,
humility, and silent suffering. In The Icon and the Axe James Billington stresses
"the almost masochistic desire" of monks to humble themselves.l5
Such generalizations are far from exaggerations, and missionary theoreticians
themselves constantly emphasized this aspect of Russian Christianity. In the 1900
guideline text for "Orthodox messengers," Bishop Dionisii stresses that the best
missionaries achieved their purposes through suffering and hardships. They aspired to "enslave and kill their bodies through much laboring, fasting, vigil,
neglecting cold and hot."16 The canonized semilegendary experiences of such as-
50
cetics as Zosima in Siberia or Father Herman in Alaska, and many others served to
support this Orthodox metaphor. Such clerics as St. Herman, who exemplified the
life of both the hermit monk and the missionary, were viewed as models. According to the Orthodox tradition, Herman brought a "monastic spiritual struggle" to
his missionary activities.17 Since he reached perfectness in his "genuine monk
hardships,"18 the Russian American church later canonized Herman as one of its
saints. Herman widely practiced various ascetic experiences praised in the Russian church tradition. From the time of his coming to Alaska in 1794 to his death in
1837 he confined himself to a solitary place on small Spruce Island, which became
known as "New Valaam."
Church tradition emphasizes that Herman rejected the high religious titles of
Hiermonk and Archimandrite, preferring instead a life as a simple monk.19 Another favorite episode underscored in missionary histories concerns Herman's
appearance. By wearing deerskin rugs, which he did not change for many years
and chains on his chest he attempted to resemble biblical ascetic fathers. He used
bricks for a pillow and a wooden board for a bed. Before he moved to a wooden
cabin, he lived for a while in a cave that he dug out for himself in the ground. This
cave later became his grave.20 In addition, church writings mention that through
his humbleness, Herman achieved a rapport with both the surrounding wildlife
and natives.21 Church authors also indicate that "in his life the elder [Herman]
imitated the ancient champions of piety."22
It is also notable that in the 1830s-l 840s another missionary, Makarii Glukharev,
a founder and head of the Altai mission, also wore rugs until they fell apart. To
demonstrate humility and the self-sacrifice of a true Christian believer, Glukharev
on occasion crossed all imaginable borders by refusing to receive a salary for his
work, doing chores in native homes and minding children. Glukharev also became
known for disturbing missionary neophytes in the middle of the night by forcing
them to recite prayers.23 Such extreme behavior reeked of the spirit of medieval
Orthodoxy and eventually became rare among missionaries in the nineteenth century, except as a metaphor and as a formal church ideal.
Those clerics who gave their life for the sake of evangelization were canonized
and became the objects of church legends. One of these missionaries was Father
Juvenal, whose mysterious death at the hands of the Yupik or Dena'ina gave much
food for disputes and even scholarly forgeries. Orthodox authors claim that in
1795 Juvenal baptized more than seven hundred Alutiiq and Dena'ina. Excited by
his success, he allegedly went on to the Iliamna Lake groups, where local people
killed him for either taking children away to the Orthodox schools or attacking
polygamy. The half-mythologized story of his martyrdom represents an unavoidable part of all Russian missionary stories.24
Before the nineteenth century, missionary work on the Siberian and Alaskan
borderlands was in many respects a combination of individual church and layman
initiatives and sporadic governmental efforts. One of the major authorities on missionary history in old Russia, Kharlampovich, writes, "Siberian missionary activities
lacked any organization and consistency until the nineteenth century."25 No mis-
51
sionary establishment existed in Russia during these years, nor did Orthodoxy
have an organized religious order specialized in propagation of the faith such as
the Jesuits. Evangelization was not a major interest for Orthodox people on the
Russian eastern borderland. This work was simply treated as an extension of their
other duties in the wilderness.26
Later, in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when the work of evangelization was turned into a formalized church enterprise, the "desert tradition" did
not come to an end. As a religious myth, it continued to occupy missionary diaries,
reports, and theoretical works. In the nineteenth century, such writings insisted
that "Orthodox messengers" were to go through a practical training, best carried
out in a desolate monastery or through desert living.27 In his missionary guidebook Dionisii focused considerable attention on the hardships of missionary
journeys and stressed that those who went through these rites of passage exemplified model behavior. The direct parallels some missionary publications drew
between asceticism or martyrdom and evangelization work show that the formalized missionary enterprise of the nineteenth century inherited much from the earlier
tradition of self-humility and monasticism.28
Moreover, until 1816 monks still served as the only source for Russian missions. The first Alaska missions recruited exclusively from monks, approved
personally by Catherine the Great, seemed to be the last largest purely monastic
missionary project of the Russian church. After 1816 the church started to send
regular parish (so-called white) priests to eastern borderlands along with monastic
(or "black") clergy.29 Still, until the beginning of the twentieth century the monks
or clergy with considerable monastic experience occupied many positions in internal and overseas Orthodox missions. Many missionaries before accepting their
assignments obtained short solitude or monastery experience.10 For instance, three
other missionaries to the Altaians, Hiermonk Ioann, the priest Trofim Sokolovski,
and Abbot Akakii, before coming to Altai had lived as monks. Ioann received his
training in the so-called Sarov Desert, a monastic solitude place in European Russia. Sokolovski, the son of a peasant, was interested in missionary work, but he
had only a secular education from the Kharkov Pedagogical College. As a result,
he turned to monastery living to fill the vacuum in his religious training. After one
year of monastic experience, Sokolovski came in 1878 to Altai to head the local
St. Nicholas Church. In a similar manner, Akakii, who had worked earlier as a
veterinarian, became interested in evangelizing natives. Apparently, he realized
that his training, although useful in Altai, was not enough and chose monastic
living as the best preparation for his missionary assignment.31
Nestor, who worked in northeastern Siberia (1908-1910), studied in the Missionary Institute (Kalmuk-Mongolian program) of the Kazan Theological Academy.
During his academy years he frequently stayed in the local Transfiguration monastery, where he met the chief of the monastery, Archimandrite Andrei, who became
for Nestor a role model as a "genuine ascetic monk." Before accepting his missionary assignment Nestor took a monastic oath symbolizing his devotion to
missionary work: "I consciously rejected worldly mundane benefits. Instead, driven
52
by a desire to help those who suffered I chose a career in a far, desolated, hardly
populated and unfamiliar to me land."32 Monastic tradition also maintained its
influence on some Russian missionary stations. In Altai Glukharev organized "the
life in his mission according to rules of a monastery community."33
Moreover, there were sporadic efforts to increase the number of monks-missionaries, who were supposedly better prepared for their duties in wilderness. In
1861 A. G. Molkov, who worked in the Altai mission, tried to promote an idea that
the mission should be equipped only with "black" clergy and argued that his project
had found support in St. Petersburg. Although later denounced, his speeches spread
fear among representatives of "white clergy" about the security of their jobs.34 At
the turn of the twentieth century to strengthen Orthodox work in Alaska and Siberia one missionary project again suggested a total replacement of all "white" parish
missionaries with monastic clergy.35 Although rejected, these attempts tell us a
great deal about traditionally favorable attitudes toward persons with monastic
experience as potential missionaries. Later, in its 1910 decision the Russian Holy
Synod strongly recommended recruiting "monks and monastery-oriented clergy"
for missionary work.36 Unlike unmarried monks, the regular clergy were viewed
as people who did not always show much desire to sacrifice their personal life and
that of their families for the sake of missionary enterprise.
All these facts certainly do not prove that monks dominated Russian missions. A
large number of active missionaries, from Ivan Veniaminov and Andrei Argentov
in the first half of the nineteenth century to Nikolai Mitropolsky and Mikhail
Chevalkov at the end of the century, were married priests. On the whole, it seems
that during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries both groups were evenly
represented among Orthodox missionaries. For instance, the majority of the Altaian
missionaries came from regular parish clergy, whereas the Chukchi mission was
almost exclusively equipped with monks.37 As far as the Alaska mission is concerned, it is difficult to make any generalizations, and available materials show
missionaries were recruited from both groups.
HINDRANCES OF THE MISSIONARY JOURNEY AS A METAPHOR

Descriptions of missionary ordeals amid the wilderness in search of native souls
represent an interesting aspect of missionary accounts in the nineteenth and the
beginning of the twentieth century. "Orthodox messengers" frequently used these
ordeals as illustrations of the heavy load they had to carry: the burden of selfdenial and humility. It appears from missionary accounts that the earlier ascetic
"desert living" tradition after being incorporated into a formal church structure in
the nineteenth century continued to live as a metaphor of hardships of the northern
desert journey. "Horrible severity of the climate, the savagery of the residents,
defenselessness and lack of elementary living conveniences are the normal conditions of this journey. But servants of the church did not hold back before the
harshness of nature and crude nature of the resident of this area," wrote a nine-
53
teenth-centry author about a typical missionary experience in northeastern Sibe38
na.
Virtually all missionary accounts chronicle hardships amid "impassable swamps"
and "fierce snowstorms" that missionaries had to overcome.39 Though missionaries evidently added a certain dose of imagination to such descriptions in order to
establish their image in the eyes of superiors or get additional financing, the conditions of work were indeed severe. Kostlivtsev, a governmental inspector, portrayed
Alaskan missionaries' conditions as follows in his report of 1860-1861:
The missionaries are forced to make long journeys in baidarkas and to march through mountains, tundra and forest. Their fellow-travelers usually carry the baidarkas, food and other
traveling necessities themselves across portages with great difficulties, often enduring hunger and cold, occasionally spending long periods of time in the rain without shelter, and
covering themselves only with a light tent. Because of the small population and the harsh
climate, there is no way to avoid these inconveniences.40
Missionaries noted that not only did the natural stubbornness of the indigenous
"infantile children" hinder their enterprise, but overcoming the severity of the northern terrain itself also presented problems. Students of native Christianization usually
did not pay much attention to the descriptions of the wildlife and natural landscapes that filled missionary accounts. In fact, missionaries themselves treated
these aspects as part of the same "savage domain." In his 1912 diary Nestor, who
worked among the Kamchatka natives, used the hardships of his own journeys to
construct a composite picture of the Russian missionary. Nestor plunges the reader
into the atmosphere of the winter missionary trip: "Please, feel, at least for a while,
what a missionary has to go through, when he is caught in the blizzard, buried in
snow amid the wild severe desert without any food for four and more days, and
being frozen submitted himself to these funeral conditions, awaiting a death."41
As in earlier monastic times, the formal implication of the desert metaphor remained the same: by traversing northern landscapes, an "Orthodox messenger"
was to approach the ideals of ancient biblical desert prophets. Missionary narratives are abundant in these kinds of analogies. Thus, throughout his Orthodoxy in
Siberia, Nestor referred to missionary journeys and trips as "apostolic travels."
Another theologian compared Dionisii, the missionary to the Sakha (Yakut) and
Chukchi, with the apostle Paul. In 1909 Anton Vakulsky (Amphilokhy), who worked
for a while in 1910 as a missionary to the Chukchi, compared himself and his new
converts to the "young ancient Christians who conducted their religious services
underground and in deserts quite far from the cultural centers."42 Some missionaries carried this biblical zeal to an eccentric degree, like Father Venedict, who came
on foot from European Russia to Chukchi country, the place of his assignment.
Moreover, he promised the bishop of Yakutsk that, unlike other missionaries, he
would visit every nomadic Chukchi camp and baptize all of the people. Being
highly competitive, Venedict ignored the work done by his predecessors and constantly remarried people who had already been married by other clerics.43
54
The missionary journey itself exemplified asceticism and hardships and corresponded well with monastic tradition. For Orthodox authors, the model missionaries
were not only those who accomplished a great deal in catching native souls, but
also those who boldly challenged wilderness and traversed northern desert terrain.
Dmitri Khitrov, a missionary to the Chukchi, was described as a person who suppressed in himself all remnants of hesitation and fear. An Orthodox author,
describing his experiences, emphasized that during severe winters he traveled
through "limitless wastelands" by dogs, or reindeer or simply on foot, "through
deep snow, high mountains, and horrible streams constantly in danger."44 "With
difficulty and risk for my life I struggled through the icy ground of swampy moss,
dirty lava, wet hills and slippery slopes," wrote Argentov, another missionary to
the Chukchi. With a sack on his back, Argentov covered 126 miles for fifteen days
and converted fifty-seven "savages."45
Vasilii Verbitskii, who worked for thirty-seven years among the Altaians (1853
1890), maintained that "the missionary cause is the war without armistice. As
soldiers during wartime missionaries do not have daily conveniences."46 As "soldiers" they were humbly to accept their hazardous journeys. Verbitskii recounted
the difficulties missionaries coped with: trips through the rain, cold, hunger, "filthiness of native dwellings " In the diary of Illarion, a missionary to the Athapaskan
Indians and Yupik, we also see numerous references to the hardships of the journey: cold, rain, and shortages of food.47
A long journey full of hardships certainly not only was important for spiritual
purposes but served practical goals toward a professional promotion. Veniaminov
constructed a greater part of his image and a career as the greatest Russian missionary through his persistent attempts personally to supervise missionary activities
in all distant corners of the Alaskan and eastern Siberian areas. He left an impressive long-distance travel record: Kamchatka Peninsula, Sakha country, the Amur
River area, Alaska. His annual trips sometimes reached 5,600 miles a year.48 In
1903 the theological historian Smirnoff generalized about the "extraordinary geographical expanse of the [northern] country," where missionaries encountered severe
conditions, and praised Veniaminov. Smirnoff noted that "during many years Innocent [a canonical name of Veniaminov] indefatigably journeyed in canoes,
sailing-vessels, reindeer sledges, and sledges drawn by dogs, and sometimes went
in snow-shoes, or simply on foot, over immense distances, everywhere christianizing
the natives of various race, erecting churches, establishing mission stations."49
From the accounts of Siberian missionaries of the end of the nineteenth century,
Smirnoff concluded that in a single year a missionary traveled between 1,000 and
4,200 miles. For example, in 1897 in Chukchi country the priests Venedict and
Mikhail Petelin covered 1,503 miles and spent eighteen nights exposed to snow.
The report of the Russian Missionary Society for 1899 described how these two
missionaries were lost and wandered across Chukchi country from October 1898
to January 1899. They nearly died from the cold and fed themselves scrapings
from the inside rind of the larch tree or straps from their sledges.50
55
Sometimes the more dangerous and unpredictable a locale, the more attractive it
was for missionary work. Missionaries directly or indirectly accentuated this fact
in reports to superiors. In 1851 Argentov went on foot almost 500 miles, sailed the
same distance, and traveled by dogs 2,616 miles. He claimed that 212 nomads
were converted during this trip. "This fact consoles me and eases my work, hardships and dangers. My hopes are rising," concluded the cleric, "and I ask permission
to go to the Bering Strait and preach the gospel to the sedentary Chukchi/'51 Father
Illarion conducted missionary work among the Inuit and Athapaskans of internal
Alaska between 1861 and 1868. After his stay at Kolmakovsky Redoubt, Illarion
heard that a few groups in the Kuskokwim River delta area remained ambivalent
about converting to Christianity. Moreover, they were hostile to the Russians. Illarion
stressed that he was eager to meet this challenge and immediately set out for this
area.52 A 1910 novel about Altai missionaries highlighted the courage that clerics
demonstrated during missionary trips. The author ascribed to Glukharev these
words: "Forward, forward, missionaries are not supposed to fear."53 In 1868 Khitrov,
praised by an Orthodox writer as one of the most courageous missionaries, wrote
after his departure to the Kolyma area, "The monk does not have anything to lose.
If I am doomed to die, it will be my sacrifice to God."54
In 1863 the Dena'ina recommended that Nikolai Militov (Abbot Nicholas) not
make a short visit to the Athapaskan-speaking Eyak village, where some warlike
Tlingits were staying. "I do not care," Militov stressed in his formal report; "if God
prepared me such an outcome I will have to accept this."55 It is difficult to generalize to what degree missionaries themselves believed in these kinds of declarations
found in formal reports. One assumes that those who voluntarily accepted missionary assignments were most probably sincere in making such statements. In
any event, these ordeals paralleled the Eastern Orthodox tradition with its cult of
self-humility.
ORTHODOX MISSIONS AS AN ORGANIZED ENTERPRISE

Prior to Peter the Great's rule, the Russian state did not show much consistent
interest in the conversion of indigenous peoples of Siberia. There is a purely economic explanation for this lack of interest. Unlike Orthodox Christians, indigenous
people of the eastern borderlands until the beginning of the twentieth century carried the burden of an annual fur tribute (called iasak) to the governmental treasury.56
The enlargement of the Christian population would have decreased the number of
tribute-paying groups, although the government supported such division as an
additional attraction to natives to accept baptism. At the same time such practice
prompted local secular authorities to view missionary activities as a hindrance to
tax collecting.
Peter the Great changed these conditions by allowing priests to baptize natives
while retaining them in the tribute category. This practice was introduced in his
1710 guidelines to Philotheus Leshchinskii (1650-1727), a new Siberian metro-
56
politan, who started the conversion of the Ostiaks (Khanty). Furthermore, Peter
the Great was also the first czar to issue a specific decree about Christianization of
Siberian natives, which sent a number of Orthodox missionaries, primarily Jesuitinfluenced Ukrainians, to convert "savages" into loyal imperial subjects. It should
be stressed that at this time government-sponsored Christianization relied primarily on coercive baptism. The czar instructed Leshchinskii to find, "burn and chop"
natives' "false gods," to "destroy their prayer places, and replace them with chapels and holy icons."57 In December of 1714 the czar issued another regulation,
which required burning down "idols and wicked praying sites" of all natives in
western and central Siberia.58
Such evangelization pursued a practical goal of consolidation of all peripheral
areas into a single imperial entity. According to his broad program of imperial
bureaucratic centralization, Peter the Great formally abolished the colonial status
of Siberia, turning it into a Russian province. His centralization program included
undermining the power and sovereignty of the Russian church, particularly independent monastery communities.59 In 1721 Peter the Great also completely
eliminated the autonomy of the Russian church, confiscated all its lands, and established the Holy Synod as a separate imperial department that took full control
over Russian Orthodoxy.60 In the second half of the eighteenth century, Catherine
the Great completed the seizure of monastic property, and the government either
closed monasteries or turned them into military hospitals. By the end of the eighteenth century the state had totally subordinated the Russian church to the empire.61
From that time, to test oneself in the "northern desert" or to "hunt the natives"
stopped being an individual adventure and became a regular job.
The Russian government therefore institutionalized the formerly spontaneous
Orthodox missionary zeal and made it part of the settlement of the eastern borderlands and native Christianization. In his recent work Michael Khodarkovsky stresses
that from the sixteenth century to the beginning of the eighteenth century the most
"striking feature" of Russia's missionary activity was "the unusual degree of government involvement." As a result, "missions in Russia were part of a concerted
colonization process directed by the state and, as such, were subservient to government interests."62
The government and church demanded that native groups go through only formal baptism, symbolizing their political loyalty to the czar. After imposing
conversion, clerics sent by the government regarded their job as done and were not
much worried about entrenching Christianity in natives' minds. A natural result of
all these policies was the creation of great numbers of pseudo-Christians.63 The
already-mentioned Leshchinskii, who was assigned to start mass conversion of
natives in western and southern Siberia, extended the Russian missionary frontier
farther east and became one of the first who regularly practiced long-distance missionary journeys. Between 1702-1727 Leshchinskii formally converted forty
thousand natives, who evidently remained pseudo converts.64 Similarly, Joseph
Khotuntsevski, assigned to eastern Siberia, imposed Christianity on the Kamchatka
natives, and the number of formal converts mushroomed. Returning to Russia in
57
1750, he announced that his mission had baptized and educated all natives in the
Kamchatka area with the minor exceptions of the nomadic Koryak. Moreover,
Khotuntsevski declared, "The whole cause of preaching the word of God has ended
and there is nobody left who should be brought to Christianity."65 In 1761 the
Holy Synod supported this statement and claimed that Khotunstevski's mission
had completely fulfilled its task and left a Christian community of five thousand
people as well as five church buildings.66
Vigorous attack on non-Christian religious beliefs sporadically continued in the
post-Petrine period until the 1760s.67 Yet, despite frequently practiced intimidation in imposing conversion, it appears that by the middle of the eighteenth century
state-sponsored missionary zeal had already subsided in both Siberia and other
parts of Russia. An imperial decree of 1740 forbade "imposition of baptism" and
even asked missionaries to rely on persuasion. Ten years later the Holy Synod
obliged missionaries to collect written petitions from Moslems and all "other infidels" who volunteered to accept Orthodoxy in order to prevent potential complaints
about forceful baptisms.68 By this time the goals of formal unification and centralization of the empire started by Peter the Great were essentially completed, and, in
addition, fur resources of Siberia were greatly depleted. So on the whole, the state
lost interest in the area's people.69 Moreover, Catherine the Great, who came to
power in 1762, supported rationalistic and universalistic ideas. Medieval die-hard
Orthodoxy hardly inspired her. As a result the government started to restrain Russian missionaries in their persistent attempts to convert natives. Clerics were ordered
to avoid direct attacks on native traditions. In their 1769 guidelines clerical authorities instructed missionaries "to influence them [non-Orthodox people] with
love and humbleness rather than force and suppression." Official regulations of
Catherine the Great such as the 1773 Edict of Toleration not only parted with a
policy of violent conversion, but put missionary work on a low priority list.70
Yet there were exceptions. One of them was the beginning of the Alaskan mission in 1794. Incidentally, this was the first overseas Russian mission. Gregory
Shelikhov, the head of the Russian-American Company (RAC), interested in establishing a permanent Russian presence in the northern Pacific Rim, invited the
group of Valaam monks to come to Kodiak Island and organize a mission. Following Catherine's liberal inclinations, Metropolitan Gabriel in his instructions to
missionaries recommended that these monks restrict their activities to "planting
into the hearts of the natives a few seeds of gospel."71 However, it seems that these
clerics were still concerned about the number of people they converted: after a
year of zealous activities monks reported that they had allegedly baptized twelve
thousand natives.72
The Orthodox church intensified its missionary efforts after the 1820s and especially during the reign of Nicholas I. Catherine the Great's universalistic indifference
to Russian Orthodoxy and liberal cosmopolitan experiments at the beginning of
the nineteenth century later produced a backlash, a growth in conservatism, and a
revival of Orthodoxy. This reaction found an expression in the "theory of official
nationality," which united statism, nationalism, and Orthodoxy as cornerstones of
58
Russianism.73 The upsurge of official and church interest in native conversion in

the 1820s-1830s became a follow-up to these developments. Not satisfied with
superficial conversion, the state became interested in genuine Christianization of
the Russian colonial periphery. Yet, the major intention was not language and cultural assimilation, but an attempt to draw indigenous elites closer to the empire in
order to maintain the status quo.74 Methods of evangelization practiced during the
reign of Peter the Great definitely did not fit the new goals of "genuine" evangelization. Church and state officials stopped forcing non-Christians to accept baptisms,
and those who chose to remain non-Orthodox still enjoyed the patronage of the
empire.
At this time, especially when Count Speransky introduced his 1822 project of
"indirect rule" over Siberian nomadic and so-called wandering natives, the government and church officials came to the conclusion that evangelization through
persuasion would be more productive than forceful methods. This corresponded
to the general goal of the entire Speransky project, which was designed to "upgrade" the natives to the level of "Russian civilization," but only gradually and on
a voluntary basis.75 This legislation, called the Statute of Alien Administration in
Siberia, which became the major imperial document regulating social, political,
and administrative life of Siberian natives, clearly indicated that those inorodtsy
who did not want to belong to the Christian faith were allowed to perform religious services "according to their traditional laws and rites," while Russian clerics
were to rely only on persuasion in their evangelization work and were forbidden to
harass those natives who were still inconsistent in their Orthodoxy.76
Almost the same stipulations were included in the renewed 1844 charter of RAC,
which supervised indigenous peoples of Russian America. First, the RAC charter
stressed that "natives who do not profess the Christian faith are free to worship in
accordance with their own traditions." Second, the charter noted that those converted inorodtsy, who "prove negligent in observing church ceremonies" because
of their "ignorance" "are not to be punished" and should be dealt with through
persuasion. In addition, in working with natives the Russian clergy in Alaska was
instructed to apply only "the rules of gentle behavior" and do not practice "any
compulsion whatsoever."77 Furthermore, in 1841 the government included in an
existing civil law an article that forbade forceful conversions. In those occasional
incidents in which authorities had to deal with zealous local priests who still tried
to impose baptism on natives, which incidentally took place outside Siberia, the
government and the church stressed that they did not share the enthusiasm for
missionary projects that relied on "decisive" and coercive measures.78 Yet, at the
same time, the government made it clear that it was interested in conversion of
native peoples and certainly would encourage dissemination of Christian faith
among inorodtsy.19 To help the conversion process the empire supplemented persuasion with material benefits to the newly baptized.
The church began looking for more efficient channels such as the use of native
tongues in order to instill Orthodoxy in native minds. Missionaries also realized
that they should not restrict themselves to simply converting "savages" untouched
59
by Christianity, but should work with those natives who had earlier formally accepted Orthodoxy. Glukharev, chief of the Altai mission, who was influenced by
eighteenth-century Enlightenment ideas, and Veniaminov, a famous Alaska mission organizer and future metropolitan, who was affected by similar sentiments,
developed some major principles of native messianization. At the center of their
approaches was an optimistic belief in upgrading all indigenous peoples of the
empire through gentle persuasion. Glukharev especially stressed the necessity of
using natives in missionary work. This new method also manifested itself in the
Missionary Instructions introduced by Veniaminov for northeastern Siberia and
Alaska and later accepted by church officials as formal guidelines for evangelization of natives. In order to succeed missionaries were prescribed to avoid direct
attacks on native customs and traditions, to be lenient about the "weaknesses" of
the new converts, and even, as Veniaminov, the archbishop of Kamchatka, the
Kurils, and the Aleutians, put it in his instructions to missionaries, "give credit to
their good customs/'80
It is clear that the 182Os-183Os, when these new approaches were articulated,
was the beginning of a new period in Russian missionary activities. Virtually all
major Russian missionary ventures in Siberia and Alaska started or were significantly strengthened during these years. In 1823 the Holy Synod adopted a decree
to upgrade the Alaskan mission, and Veniaminov started his activities in Russian
America and radically improved the entire missionary project. In 1840 he became
head of the newly created Kamchatka Diocese, which targeted both Alaskan natives and the indigenous peoples of eastern Siberia.81
In 1828 the Russian government and church founded the Altai Mission headed
by Glukharev. By a special act the government granted food and supply benefits to
all monk-missionaries who volunteered to work in the Siberian mission. Moreover, on June 17,1826, the government introduced special benefits for all "heathens"
who "upon their own choice" accepted the Orthodox religion. These benefits included relief from any dues and tributes to the empire for three years.82 Later,
missionaries adopted a broad interpretation of this regulation and frequently also
supplemented their conversion efforts with various gifts and presents. Although in
special 1837 guidelines officials decreed that clerics not endow upon newly baptized money or such articles as shoes or clothing in addition to already granted
benefits,83 in practice such regulations were widely ignored.
The desire to reduce the possibility of mass and formal conversion was articulated again in 1861 guidelines that stated:
Before beginning of a baptism both a clergyman and a representative of local authorities,
who is obliged to be present during the ceremony, shall carefully examine and confirm that
this person voluntarily and consciously accepts the holy baptism. Without such confirmation, baptism shall not be performed and not be allowed. Upon completion of this church
ceremony, a representative of local authorities shall verify the performance of the baptism
act with his own hand in a book of registrations.84
60
Two major centers were responsible for the preparation of missionaries and support of missions in the nineteenth century. The first one, the Russian Missionary
Society (RMS), was founded in St. Petersburg in 1865. Dogurevich claimed that
the RMS acted as one of the major agents in the evangelization of the eastern
borderlands.85 Five years later the society transferred its headquarters to Moscow,
where Veniaminov, the metropolitan of Moscow, led it. He wrote a draft of the
society's by-laws approved by Alexander II on November 21, 1869.86 Maria, the
wife of the emperor and a RMS member herself, provided imperial patronage to
the society. Although formally the goal of the RMS was to support missions within
the borders of the Russian empire, the new organization eventually targeted overseas missions, particularly the Alaskan mission.87
RMS was responsible for establishing many new missions and increasing monetary support for the work of native evangelization. Whereas in the 1860s the entire
amount of money allocated by the RMS was only 7,000 rubles, in 1903-1904 the
sum of financial support for nine Siberian missions reached 170,528 rubles.88 That
a large number of Russian missions sprang up during the last thirty years of the
nineteenth century apparently should also be attributed to initiatives of the RMS.89
By the end of the nineteenth century the number of its members, which constituted
7,000 in 1871, had increased to 14,243 persons, who represented the elite and
well-to-do segment of Russian society. In 1897 the overall RMS capital had reached
1,186,837 rubles.90
The second center that promoted missionary work was a special two-year missionary college founded in 1854 as a branch of the Kazan Orthodox Academy.
Later, in 1897, this college, which by this time had received the status of an institute, moved to the local Spasski monastery. According to church officials, the new
facilities were to confine future missionaries exclusively to asceticism and to educate them for a life of "full hardships and self-restrictions/' Another goal was to
cut off future Orthodox messengers from the social life of Kazan, one of the major
university cities in old Russia. In short, the college tailored its curriculum and
order to make the institute look like a small model of a "good desert."91 The latter
objective became a fulfillment of Glukharev's testament that a future missionary
college should combine both educational and monastery goals.
Would-be missionaries received training in native cultures and languages through
a special Mongolian Department, but instructors taught these subjects from an
outlook that stressed "superiority of Christian morality" over pagan values. It was
obvious from the name of the offered courses, for example, "the history and condemnation of Lamaism." Along with native anthropology ("ethnology of the
subjected tribes") and languages, students devoted much time to Russian missionary history ("history of the mission among the subjected tribes").92 In 1898-1899
the Missionary Institute had sixty-two students. By the turn of the twentieth century the college completely took over the job of missionary recruitment from the
RMS.93 Still, the number of graduates was not enough to equip all internal and
overseas Russian missions, and the heads of various missions constantly complained about lack of new recruits.
61
Though ordinary parish clergy showed occasional interest in propagating the

gospel, they were not eager to choose missionary assignments that required large
personal sacrifices. Stefan Landyshev, the chief of the Altai mission in the 1860s,
reported that "each parish priest in Siberia is provided much better than our missionaries. Therefore, no one from the graduates of the Tobolsk and Tomsk seminaries
wanted to work in the mission."94 Working among the Koryak in eastern Siberia,
Nestor expressed a similar concern about the lack of resources for evangelization
work.95 Not surprisingly, the ranks of missionaries were staffed by either a minority of overzealous Orthodox individuals or clerics who were not able to find a
regular parish position and treated missionary work as voluntary exile.
From an administrative standpoint, in the nineteenth century the Russian church
usually did not draw strict borders between internal and overseas missions. Thus,
until 1870 the Russian government did not separate its Alaskan mission from Siberian missionary activities. Between 1821 and 1840 the Alaskan mission developed
as an integral part of one large Siberian/Alaskan missionary see with Irkutsk (Siberia) as its center. From 1840 Alaska and Eastern Siberia made up a separate
Kamchatka mission with headquarters in New Archangel (Sitka), the capital of
Russian America, which was also a location of the Russian Theological Seminary,
which served the needs of both eastern Siberia and Alaska. The western Siberian
missions became an autonomous entity, with the Altai Mission founded in 1828 as
a backbone of missionary activities in this area.
Historians stress that the sale of Russian America to the United States in 1867
did not undermine Orthodox religious activities and the period that followed cannot be separated from the earlier history of the Russian church in Alaska. Barbara
Smith emphasized that from 1867 into the early twentieth century the Orthodox
church in Alaska remained part of the state church of Russia. Another scholar, A.
Shalkop, wrote, "Politically, Russia was divorced from its colonies, but psychologically it continued to be present in the lives of the people who had been trained
' to think that through serving the church they also served the czar."96 The Russian
church in the United States continued to develop under the umbrella of its mother
country, and until 1917 the American branch of the church received instructions
from the metropolitan of Moscow.97 Some missionaries, like Veniaminov and
Vakulsky (Amphilokhy), divided their time between Siberia and Alaska. Moreover, in the early twentieth century the eastern part of Chukchi country in
northeastern Siberia was made part of the Alaska see. The Russian Holy Synod
formally retained the land the Orthodox church owned in Alaska. In 1870, the new
Alaskan see was created and later moved from Sitka to San Francisco.98 After a
short decline, the Russian church expanded its work in Alaska and even established new missionary stations.
Training of the local Orthodox leadership from indigenous and mixed blood
populations was a major part of missionary work both in Siberia and in Alaska.
The church recognized that support for native low-level clergy would significantly
upgrade all missionary work. Veniaminov, the "apostle" of Russian missions, despite a few reservations, stressed that the Russian church at the periphery should
62
nourish native leaders, elders, and readers whose help could be crucial for the
cause of evangelization." In Alaska and Siberia natives and mixed bloods could
be found in positions of missionaries, deacons, subdeacons, interpreters and
churchwardens. Furthermore, this practice received formal approval: in 1841 the
government at the advice of the Holy Synod by a special decree found it "necessary" to admit trained natives and Creoles into the ranks of clergy in eastern Siberia
and Russian America. In 1866 this stipulation was extended to include the Altaian
natives, who received the right to join the ranks of clergy to bypass the objections
of their "heathen" tribal authorities.100 Such prominent missionaries in Alaska as
Iakov Netsvetov, John Orlov, Zakhar Bel'kov, Alexander Petelin, and a few others
came from Russian-Aleut/Alutiiq families. In northeastern Siberia among the most
notable native and mixed-blood clerics'were Grigorii Sleptsov (Sakha), Nikolai
Loginov and Mikhail Kollegov (Itelmens), and Mikhail Petelin (Russian-Alutiiq).
At the same time, documents contain no evidence about the existence of native
clergy or even lay readers among the Chukchi. By contrast, at the turn of the twentieth century in Altai twelve missionaries were full-blood natives, including the
famous cleric Mikhail Chevalkov (the Teleut). However, none of them occupied
any leadership positions.
It also should be noted that even Russian clerics who demonstrated a tolerant
approach to natives still maintained ambivalent attitudes toward mixed-blood clergy,
whom they judged in an evolutionary sense to be somewhere between the "wild"
natives and the Russians, and did not extend to them complete trust or respect.
When the Creole Shishkin, who received theological training, applied for the vacant position of the Nushagak missionary, Veniaminov insisted on turning him
down, arguing that mixed-blood people were unreliable in such positions. In 1852
in one of his letters about the Shishkin case Veniaminov wrote, "Creoles can not
yet be called human beings. I have already stated this and confirm again that perhaps one of the fifty Creoles deserves to be called a human being. Sub altero they
can be useful, but they are not capable to work as leaders."'01
The advantage of native/Creole clergy was that they understood the aspirations
of local people and could employ traditional channels in making the Orthodox
message attractive and appealing. Furthermore, in Alaska and Siberia the major
transmitters of Orthodox tradition among indigenous peoples were primarily
Creolized native groups: the Aleuts in Alaska, the Teleut in Altai, the Itelmen in
eastern Siberia. However, they could equally be agents of reverse influence by
interpreting Christian doctrines in their own indigenous manner. It is difficult to
find information in missionary writings about such reinterpretations of Orthodoxy
by native/Creole clergy, but there is some indirect evidence contained in clerics'
reports. During his 1893 inspection trip to the Alaskan missions, Bishop Nikolai
assailed Orlov's and Bel'kov's church service practices. These two Creole missionaries served "natives when they want and how they want and did not follow
the church regulations."102 Interestingly enough, Protestant missionaries who
worked in the vicinity forwarded the same accusations against Bel'kov and other
Creole missionaries in the area.103 In another case, church officials blamed Iakov
63
Netsvetov, a missionary to the Yupik and Athapaskans, for tolerating from 1851
his reader's illicit affair. Oleksa argues that most probably the "affair" was an
informal union, according to local native traditions.104
On a local level, indigenous lay readers and catechists, the major agents of native Christianity, transmitted the Orthodox tradition through chapel services or
frequently by use of oral native channels that did not require a trained clergy.105
Incidentally, the local structure and the whole tradition of Orthodox church encouraged such reinterpretation of Christianity through native glasses. Indeed, as
early as the fourteenth century the first "full-time" Russian missionary, the legendary St. Stephen of Perm (1340-1396), ordained his native disciples, "some as
priests, some as deacons, readers, and chanters."106 Historically, the Russian church
placed much responsibility on local chapels, sometimes called prayer houses, and
their lay leadership. Religious life of many Orthodox communities often evolved
around these chapels and was little connected with the local parish. In those areas
where people did not have access to a church, a prayer house became the only
facility for religious activities. Laymen frequently decorated and enlarged the chapels without consulting priests and church officials. Moreover, people normally
elected an elder to supervise services and maintain a building.
Formal laws that regulated the life of the Russian church themselves encouraged such practice. For instance, according to the 1841 "By-Laws of Ecclesiastical
Consistories," churchwardens were to be elected from the local population with
the consent of a priest for the duration of three years.107 Interestingly, in Russia
itself many such prayer houses were unlisted and the official church did not know
about their existence. There were also numerous misunderstandings between local
people and church authorities about how to interpret the activities of these chapels.108 Rereading of Orthodoxy by indigenous and Creole clergy combined with
wide chapel autonomy opened a road to experimenting with Russian Christianity
and eventually attached different meanings to Orthodoxy.
In addition to raising native lay Orthodox leadership and clergy, a major part of
church officials encouraged missionaries to use indigenous languages in their work.
Glukharev and Veniaminov, "founding fathers" of the Russian missionary enterprise, pioneered translation of major religious texts into local languages. In its
curriculum the Kazan Missionary Institute reserved a large place for teaching native tongues to would-be missionaries. In the second half of the nineteenth century,
one of the professors at this college, Nikolai Ilminskii, undertook an ambitious
project of translating Russian Orthodox literature into indigenous languages, including a number of Siberian ones.109 Though an ardent nationalist, who also
enjoyed support of his conservative patron, Count Konstantyn Pobedonostsev, oberprocurator of the Holy Synod, Ilminskii nevertheless asserted that Russification
would only gain if promoted through native channels. The system named after him
emphasized two major points: Orthodox education of natives in their own conversational languages and the recruitment of teachers from indigenous groups.110
For purposes of clarity he even demanded elimination of specific Church Slavonic
and Russian sentence structures and interpretation of Orthodox ideas through na-
64
tive patterns and metaphors instead.111 It appears that Ilminskii's approach was
based on a longtime Orthodox tradition that used national languages in liturgy and
writings, unlike, for example, the Catholic church, which relied on the Latin language.112 Indirectly, this tradition, enhanced by Ilminskii, opened the doors to
officially sanctioned syncretism and religious fragmentation. Yet, Pobedonostsev
hoped that the Ilminskii System would indoctrinate natives with the Orthodox
worldview. He even optimistically declared that "a new epoch in missionary work
was opened in Kazan for the whole Russian East."113 At first designated for Moslem peoples, this system was later extended to other indigenous groups, including
Siberian natives. Along with books for Moslem peoples, Ilminskii and collaborating clerics translated and published books in Buryat, Altaian, Evenki, Nivkh, Sakha,
and Chukchi.114
Officialdom and a majority of Russian missionaries adopted the Ilminskii System. Nevertheless, the Russian clergy did not reach unanimous agreement about
this project of native evangelization. On the one hand, there existed a tolerant
tradition, established by Glukharev and Veniaminov and incorporated into the
Ilminskii System. This lenient stance rejected Russification and encouraged a more
sensitive approach to native cultures. On the other hand, although blessed by official approval, Ilminskii's ideas did not enjoy full support of Orthodox clergy and
missionary theoreticians. Therefore, it is hard to accept without reservations the
declarations of Orthodox authors that the entire Russian missionary policy was
tolerant toward native customs and traditions. Some clergymen openly or indirectly equated Orthodox conversion with Russification and expressed a more
negative attitude toward the Ilminskii System. Such critics became especially outspoken at the end of the nineteenth century with the rise of Russian chauvinism
and pan-Slavism. In his recent article, Slezkine draws attention to the ambivalent
attitudes of the church establishment toward the "liberal" project of Veniaminov
and Ilminskii. Slezkine even goes further and suggests that regardless of the official support and encouragement, no room existed for such innovations as the
Ilminskii System.115
In 1868-1873, Archbishop Veniamin became a vocal critic of tolerant
Christianization and the Ilminskii System; moreover, he created obstacles to the
Ilminskii policy by forbidding the use of native language in the education of the
Buryat people, among whom he worked. According to the archbishop, "Special
education for natives with its respectful attitude toward their cultures will only
increase their national consciousness and alienate natives from the Russians. It is
high time to stop treating natives as children who need an indulgence."116 Veniamin
realized that the Ilminskii System and the lenient treatment of native customs in
general might open a road to syncretism of Orthodoxy with indigenous religions.
The archbishop based his negative attitude toward the use of native languages
and cultures on the fact that historically Orthodoxy and the state were tightly connected with each other. Thus, in his view, Orthodoxy existed as the Russian faith,
and missionaries' task was not only to make true believers of natives, but to turn
them into "Russians by nationality." The Archbishop stressed, "The Orthodox
65
mission to natives is also to act as the mission of their Russification."II7 He also

insisted on direct government involvement in evangelization and even offered to
adopt an official decree on compulsory Christianization.118 Ironically, assailing
Ilminskii's liberal approach, he correctly argued that one could hardly set apart
indigenous beliefs from the rest of indigenous culture. Veniamin indicated that
unlike those in Christian nations, where religion existed as a separate entity, people
with primal beliefs related to the sphere of religion "all life ways as well as other
traditional attributes including a language."119 Consequently, "the conversion of a
paganist should not be restricted only to preaching the Gospel. It should be accompanied by changes of his ways, manners and habits and followed by his
integration into the general civilian life of the Russian people."120
Bishop Guru of Samara also continually fought against the Ilminskii System
and treated missionary work as a direct invitation for the Russification of indigenous peoples. Like Veniamin, Bishop Guru justified these views by arguing that
the Orthodox religion developed as an inseparable part of the Russian spirit and
could not be treated separately from Russian culture. Rather than restricting itself
to simple education and spiritual enlightenment, the Orthodox mission should be
the "mission of genuine Russification."121 The Kamchatka bishop, Martinian
Murativskii (1877-1885), openly declared that missionary work should be a "tool
of state building."122 A number of Orthodox authors were in agreement with these
bishops' assessments. In the late nineteenth century historian of Siberian and Alaskan missions, T. A. Dogurevich, declared that missionary work represented "the
most important task of state and church" and should serve political and strategic
interests of the empire. Similarly, the Orthodox author N. Komarov called native
missionization "a matter of strategic importance."123
The Russification tendency became noticeable in missionary literature and in a
few propagandistic pamphlets at the end of the nineteenth and in the beginning of
the twentieth century, when Russian nationalism was on the rise. The Alaskan
bishop Philip, in his 1918 pamphlet, described the poor manpower resources for
missionary work and appealed to the Russian people's feeling of nationalism to
support overseas missions. He called upon Russians to defend the sprouts of Orthodox life among Alaska natives against Protestant and Catholic intrusions. "Do
not downgrade our holy religion in the eyes of various alien beliefs," Philip appealed to his readers and added that passivity in propagating Orthodoxy in Alaska
would be a "disgrace for the Russians."124 Philip also exaggerated the Russian
church's appeal for Alaskan indigenous peoples, saying that one of the major elements of native Alaskans' character was their love for the Russian Czar. "Come to
any house of a Creole, an Indian, an Aleut, a Kenai native, an Eskimo," he wrote,
"and you will be astonished by the portrait of the Russian Czar or the whole czar
family on the walls."125 Natives "came to love everything connected with Russia in
the same way as they had come to love Christianity nourished by Russian missionaries."126
Two other pamphlets, written by Hiermonk Nestor in 1910 and 1912, appealed
to the government, the Russian population, and the church elite to implant as soon
66
as possible among eastern Siberian natives the love of Russia before foreign interests occupied these areas. He assailed the government for the selling of Alaska and
for neglect of the Orthodox cause in northeastern Siberia.127 Nestor also warned
that the Japanese's "grabbing hands" had already tried to eliminate gradually the
weak Russian presence in Kamchatka and to subject local natives to their influence. "If Kamchatkan natives come to love Russia, if they come to feel in their
hearts that Russia takes care of them, they will remain devoted sons of the empire,"
stressed Nestor.128 For him the fact that the natives in northeastern Siberia did not
live in Russian-type cabins but "in yurts and even in underground houses" served
as an illustration of their miserable existence.129 To improve this situation they
were not only to part with their dwellings, institutions, and languages, but to come
to love Russian culture. It is not surprising that Nestor especially praised Veniamin
for seeing the "vital connection of the state system with the spirit and light of
Orthodoxy"130
Although an influential segment of Russian clergy defended Russification, the
policy of direct attacks on indigenous cultures and languages did not receive official support and did not direct the entire missionary enterprise. In his recent work
David Collins, a well-known historian of Orthodox church activities among Siberian natives, stresses that its missionary policies were neither one-dimensional nor
consistent, and adds that methods of Orthodox evangelization cannot be reduced
to either Russification or tolerance of native cultures. Moreover, the anthropologist Elena Glavanskaya, drawing on the conflicting views among missionaries about
native Christianization, concludes that by the turn of the century there existed two
distinct programs of native evangelization.131
Inconsistency and ambivalence about crusading against native customs and traditions could be seen in official steps taken by the church. For example, in 1885
representatives of Siberian sees and a few Siberian governors who met in Irkutsk
recommended that the government "immediately" adopt legislative measures to
introduce mandatory education in Russian for all native schools.132 However, these
demands were not followed by any formal regulations. Moreover, during this meeting some delegates were still not sure about the necessity of a total attack on native
cultures. Recognizing the need to curb native languages, they nevertheless pointed
out that destruction of native political systems should be postponed.133 As late as
in 1910, during the Siberian Missionary Congress, missionaries still debated whether
they should use Russian or indigenous languages for native education.134
Ilminskii himself responded to Veniamin's assertions. In his response to the archbishop, Ilminskii wrote that a native could be a good Christian and still maintain a
traditional lifestyles and warned about the potential danger of Veniamin's restrictions on the use of native languages for schooling. Many clerics strongly supported
Ilminskii in his debates with Veniamin. At the 1910 Siberian Missionary Congress, the majority of clerics recognized that failures in evangelization originated
from inadequate use of native languages. For instance, the crude attacks by Veniamin
on the Buryat language resulted in this group's lack of interest in Orthodoxy.135
During the congress Ioann Kirenskii, a church official, issued a report ("Orthodox
67
Mission to the Heathen Countries of the Far East and Siberia") that indicated that
in those areas where missionaries ignored native ways they achieved no success.136
During the same missionary congress, Archbishop Makarii spoke in favor of
indoctrinating natives in their own languages, stating that the purpose of the mission was the "enlightenment of natives with the light of Christ's teaching rather
than Russification."137 Similarly, Dionisii in his missionary guideline book strongly
objected to making Russification of the natives the major goal of missionary work
and tried to draw a strict border between Christianization and the crusade against
indigenous cultures.138 Dionisii insisted that the mixture of both concepts represented a common practice of Western European and American missionaries and
contradicted the Russian church tradition, which should instead base its missionary activities on a "gentle" approach to national customs and habits.139 He argued
that the Russian mission was supposed to be "spiritual rather than political pursuit" and rejected the merging of governmental policy goals with missionary work,
which would eliminate the religious essence of the Orthodox evangelization.
Dionisii also maintained that throughout Russia's history missionaries stood in
opposition to the imperial colonial policy in eastern borderlands.140
MISSIONARY BIASES, STEREOTYPES, AND METHODS

Like their counterparts in other areas of the world, Orthodox messengers looked
at indigenous societies through the glasses of Judeo-Christian tradition, additionally tinged with common nineteenth-century biases. Unavoidably, missionaries
constructed their own versions of native lifestyles that reflected clerics' limited
cultural understanding. Some authors downplay stereotypes of native peoples that
clerics of the past century shared and took for granted and perpetuate a distorted
view of missionaries as humanists who supposedly demonstrated an understanding of and deep sensitivity to indigenous pre-Christian spirituality.141 However, it
was the dominant ethnocentric nineteenth-century philosophy that shaped the missionaries' view of natives. Even those clerics who treated native "superstitions"
quite liberally cannot be portrayed as present-day cultural relativists.
Personal and class backgrounds of clergymen played an additional role in shaping their attitudes toward native customs. Those from lower classes or were evidently
more familiar with popular Russian beliefs and adjusted themselves better to their
"native flock." According to Townsend, such priests tended to be more lenient.
Abbot Nicholas, who worked among the Dena'ina in the 1860s, grew up in the
family of a low rank clergyman (songleader) and did not expect much from his
"Indian children." He developed a good rapport with local people, and despite the
hardships of his missionary journeys, he wrote that it was a pleasure to work for
the Dena'ina, whom the abbot described as "children of nature" and "noble savages." He readily shared any indigenous food to the satisfaction of his hosts and
accommodated in his house poor and sick natives. Militov's journals are generally
optimistic and show a person who knows how to adjust himself to the reality of
68
indigenous life. Prone to common cultural stereotypes of his time, this missionary
nevertheless showed some interest in exploring Dena'ina culture: "The savages
have their own customs, which one has to know and to adjust oneself to them as far
as possible. In this case the native will endow upon you their love." At the request
of the Russian Geographical Society Nicholas wrote a short essay on the culture
and environment of the Dena'ina country, illustrating his interest in the region,
where he worked and in the people, whom he served.142
Verbitskii, an Altai missionary, who, likeMilitov, originated from a humble family
of a songleader, gives us a similar example of a person who was able to accommodate himself to native cultural and physical landscapes. Despite numerous biases,
Verbitskii's diaries and reports attempt to identify "positive" elements of native
cultures. Moreover, between the 1870s Und 1890s Verbitskii established himself as
a scholar famous for his numerous anthropological and linguistic works, which
suggest close interactions with the Altaians, who apparently shared with him their
knowledge.143
Nikita Marchenkov, who had been a military officer and had come out of a highclass noble family, gives an opposite example. This missionary, who came to work
among the Dena'ina in 1881, had a negative stance. In his reports colored with
pessimism, Father Nikita assailed native traditions and never missed a chance to
castigate Indian shamanism. His writings are full of speculations about "savage
Indian character," which he constantly used to explain all social, economic, and
spiritual "drawbacks" of the natives. Moreover, Marchenkov's expectations about
"genuine faith" were so high that he accompanied his words of frustration about
Dena'ina "superstitions" by pessimistic remarks about the poor religiosity of the
Russian common people themselves, among whom "shamanism also exists."144
It appears that he did not enjoy working with the people from whom he was so
alienated. Trying to find an escape in heavy drinking, he eventually resorted to
solitude, living on Spruce Island. That many Orthodox missionaries originated
from rural clergy families in European Russia might also help us understand their
attitudes toward native cultures and especially their criticism of hunting or pastoral life. In missionaries' eyes farming and settled life were the ideal "civilized"
ways, a stereotype that fit their own cultural background and certainly was at variance with Chukchi, Dena'ina, or Altaians nomadic and seminomadic occupations.
It also seems that both missionaries' cultural background and their theological
training explain the numerous "farming" and agricultural metaphors in their narratives.145
On the whole, it was noted that Orthodox priests did not make the same demands with reference to changing ways of life as did the Protestant.146 What were
the sources of the so-called great sensitivity the Russian church displayed toward
indigenous tradition? Unlike the French, Spanish, or Anglo-American overseas
missionary frontiers, the Russian eastern borderland was an extension of the empire. This Russian frontier represented an area of unbroken continuity of peoples
and traditions that had blended together since the thirteenth century. As a result,
Russian expansion to Siberia and Alaska did not resemble the sudden collision of
69
cultures that occurred, for example, in New England during the seventeenth century. Large areas difficult to traverse plus a weak material basis for colonization
forced the Russian missionaries to accept natives on their own terms in many areas
of Siberia and Alaska. Orthodoxy lacked resources and manpower and had to make
constant compromises with native traditions. Therefore, the "power" of the Russian church arose very much from its weakness. As a result, on the Russian eastern
borderland newcomers had to be lenient toward natives, with whom they became
more deeply and intimately connected than, for instance, did the white and Native
Americans populations of North America.
It also appears that Orthodox missionaries tolerated compromises with indigenous beliefs because of the ritualistic "traditionalist" nature of Orthodoxy itself.
This side of the Russian faith appealed to the natives and created a certain common ground for a dialogue with missionaries. The stress on worship and ritual that
Russian Christianity considered an essential expression of faith proved especially
attractive to indigenous peoples. The powerful effect of visual and aural aspects of
Orthodox ceremonies on people is very well known. Russian clerics understood
this and assigned a large role to these "sensory impressions."147 Native Alaskans
and Siberians easily accepted icons and other material objects of the faith as analogous to representations of their own rituals. Not surprisingly, the missionary
theoreticians Dionisii and Popov recommended that missionaries capitalize on these
parallels and conduct all ceremonies in colorful, solemn, and attractive manner.
According to Popov, even copies of the Bibles that clerics used were designated to
impress natives. He suggested binding these books in velvet and trimming the
cover with bright, shining, and beautiful pictures of crosses or angels.148 As a
matter of fact, such "preaching through beauty" went back to the old church tradition. According to an Orthodox legend, St. Stephen of Perm, the first Russian
missionary, succeeded among the native Komi largely because he attracted them
by decorating his chapel "as a beautiful bride."149
Furthermore, the Orthodox doctrine maintained that each person contained the
potential for divinity; that, according to Richard Dauenhauer, was another source
of success for the Russian church in its work with natives. Such an approach allowed clerics to tolerate native customs, traditions and languages.150 Unlike
Protestantism, this stance did not require of natives immediate denunciation of all
their lifeways. According to Popov, "Newly baptized might not exactly follow
their Christian obligations. They might even continue some of their rituals from
their former faith."151 He suggested that missionaries be lenient in such cases. The
Orthodox church also emphasized the active involvement of believers in rituals.
As a result, communal participation and the collective nature of ceremonialism
also aided dialogue between natives and Russian missionaries. No wonder Russian missionaries often praised the collectivist traditions of natives, their mutual
help and sharing, as prerequisites for being true Christians.
Although to clerics natives were "devil worshippers," missionaries did not assail
all indigenous traditions as satanic, but tended to single out "bad" and "good"
elements. Such a stance was especially noticeable in the first half of the nineteenth
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century. In his letters concerning the eastern Siberian peoples Veniaminov stressed
that natives should be credited for helping each other, particularly during famine.
Moreover, he concluded his observations by praising their communal qualities:
"The more I get acquainted with the wild people, the more I love them and become
convinced that we with our education have been diverted very far from a road to
perfectness. We hardly notice that in a moral respect so-called savages are much
better than the so-called enlightened." Similarly, in his Notes on Unalaska Islands
he credited the Aleuts for their collectivist nature and stressed that these qualities
might be very helpful for implanting Christianity in their minds.152 Like Veniaminov,
the missionary Khitrov, who propagated the Gospel in northeastern Siberia, became fascinated with the "purity" of the natives' communal mores and related
so-called negative sides of their charactef to the influence of an unfavorable northern environment.153
Verbitskii also divided native ways into "good" and "bad" categories. "There is
much of good and bad in the Altaians' customs," he noted, and especially underscored that the people whom he had met were surprisingly honest. According to
this missionary, the Altaians returned all small things accidentally misplaced or
left by Russian visitors. Verbitskii also praised hospitality as another attractive
element of the Altaian culture. At the same time, he felt very confused by the fact
that the "same natives" might be "indirectly" dishonest by taking money and goods
on credit and not paying their debts. Though very knowledgeable about the Altaian
culture, Verbitskii appears in this case not to grasp that the natives had no knowledge of the concept of debt. Like Veniaminov, Verbitskii pointed to alleged laziness
as the most notorious feature of indigenous character, naming among "their favorite amusements" sleeping, doing nothing, dully staring at the ground, and smoking
tobacco.154
The amount of negative and positive qualities clerics attached to natives often
depended upon the specific group missionaries encountered. Those natives who
showed an interest in Orthodoxy, like the Aleuts or Dena'ina, received praise. On
the other hand, those who used Orthodoxy more selectively, as the Tlingit did, or
dismissed it, as the Chukchi did, were castigated by missionaries as stubborn or
animal-like and their traditions were depicted as harmful. Russian missionaries
often described the humble nature and endurance of the Aleut who embraced Christianity when their traditional system declined. In a similar manner, missionary
narratives made good-mannered and humble people out of the semisedentary northern Altaians who expressed interest in Christianity, whereas their nomadic kin
residing in southern Altai were stamped as arrogant and stubborn "savages" for
their continual rejection of the Orthodox message. In Alaska, Dena'ina, especially
in the coastal areas, borrowed many elements of Christianity and earned the clerics' praise. Thus, in 1848, Militov, the first missionary to these Indians, wrote:
Generally Kenaitze [Dena'ina] accept Christianity willingly and with visible submissiveness to God's word. They listen to sermons with attention, zealously and carefully observe
Christian duties. As soon as the missionary reprimands the savages, they leave out their
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national dances and songs that they like very much. All their former shamans accepted
baptism, and the majority of them became the best Christians.155
In 1889 Nikolai Mitropolsky also stressed that the Dena'ina were "extremely
humble," a view also shared by Arkhangelov, who depicted the "Kenaitze as peaceful, quite and patient people."156 Ironically, the neighbors of the Dena'ina, Ahtna
Indians, also an Athapaskan-speaking group, were called "wild and savage people"
in the Mitropolsky report.157 In the same way, Russian missionary narratives depicted the "fierce" Tlingits as wild and misbehaving savages because they
maintained sovereignty, social structure, and a large part of their traditional economy,
on which the Russians depended for food supply.158 Such assessments of the Tlingit
survived until the end of the nineteenth century. Bishop Tikhon wrote, "They
[Tlingits] do not possess those Aleut qualities such as endurance and humbleness.
On the contrary, they are smart, brave, and freedom-loving people. Proudness,
mutual quarrels, and inconsistency are also their characteristic features."159
Veniaminov generally believed in "upgrading" natives,160 as did Glukharev. The
latter agreed that "ignorance, laziness, filthiness and lack of hygiene" represented
endemic parts of native life, but still he assailed those who did not believe in native
enlightenment. "Christ loves all people," insisted Glukharev, who concluded, "There
is no nation inaccessible to the word of God." Missionaries were to lead all "downfallen people," including the savages, who, like everybody else, were destined to
become true "sons of light," to the "light of Christianity." Though the methods and
approaches should be different and gentle, Glukharev argued that the final goal
was to "enlighten all nations," and that "there should not be a people denied the
word of truth."161 Like Glukharev, many later Orthodox clerics and theoreticians
similarly believed that, although "savage" by nature, natives still had an inborn
rudimentary idea of the God. As Verbitskii wrote in 1877, "Although these people
distort and blur the image of true God, one should not treat them as Darwin's
animals."162
To missionaries, the problem was simply that somewhere in the distant past
natives possessed a pristine idea of God. Later on, they believed, so-called native
superstitions and especially shamanism supposedly corrupted and downgraded
this originally "noble idea" of God. Authors of a reference manual for Siberian
missionaries stressed that despite all "savagery" and "ignorance of shamanism,"
there were elements of "natural basic religion" among indigenous peoples. The
manual stressed that this "grain of truth" might make the transition to the "true
faith" more natural and painless.163 Therefore, the primary goal of a missionary
was to "purge the idea of the Supreme Deity from all this husk," as Vladimir Fialkin,
a missionary theoretician, put it.164 Stephen Borisov, an Altaian missionary who
tried to seek these "grains of truth" and strengthen this vague idea of the Supreme
Deity in native minds, generalized in similar manner: "In the long run this idea
will make them be aware that by recognizing the Supreme God they somehow
partially already believe in Him, although in a distorted manner and not completely."165
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Missionaries did not restrict their activities to spiritual enlightening of natives.

Clerics understood that the "spiritual upgrading" of natives would be more successful if supplemented by social and economic work. From the very beginning
missionaries tried to pay attention to helping the poor and needy. In this context
social work became an inseparable part of a spiritual message. In a formal report
of the Altai mission this social work approach received an unusual interpretation:
The more miserable general living conditions of the Altai paganists, the more satisfaction a
missionary may feel during his uneasy enterprise, when a former paganist step by step turns
into a new man not only in a spiritual sense but in his manners and ways, in his family life
and housekeeping, and even in his appearance.166
Glukharev was the first cleric who, facing tremendous difficulties in conveying
the Gospel to Altaians, started to use this tool of evangelization on a wide basis.
Throughout the entire nineteenth century, from Veniaminov and Glukharev to
Verbitskii and Bortnovsky, clerics stressed that missionary work should include
sanitation, education, hygiene, mutual aid activities, and the temperance movement. By the turn of the twentieth century this approach became a standard method
in missionary practice. In 1891 N. Elonskii reminded missionaries who worked
among Siberian natives not to restrict themselves to the spiritual side of the work:
Natives who are literally drowned in dirt, who are hungry and desperate or deadly passive,
cannot quietly and attentively listen to missionary instructions. For any missionary it is
clear that first of all natives need food, clothes and medicine or material help in general.167
In 1907, after Nestor came to Kamchatka to spread the gospel among the Koryaks,
he "realized that among these backward peoples I should not only preach the Gospel but conduct social work."168 The Holy Synod directly pointed out that the
"miserable" status of natives could be improved only through a combination of
social work and religious indoctrination.169 Eventually, this trend received support
of church officials. In its 1910 decision the Holy Synod decreed the need to
"strengthen educational, charitable and medical work in missions."170
In this regard, during evangelization special attention was devoted to clergy's
medical performances. Dionisii stressed that for clerics medical knowledge was
the "golden asset" that usually helped boost the entire conversion process.171 Missionary experiences demonstrated that the word of the Gospel sounded more
convincing if accompanied by actual medical treatment, which capitalized on traditional native concern with healing powers. "Orthodox messengers" very early
realized that this perfect tool to instill the Gospel in native minds would allow
them to compete successfully with indigenous medicine men and women, major
transmitters of native beliefs. Popov, a missionary theoretician, directly invited
missionaries to compare their roles with those of native shamans, who acted among
their fellow tribesmen primarily as healers. He reminded missionaries that they
"might reach tremendous success if they combine regular work with healing."172
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Earlier missionaries, like Veniaminov and Glukharev, discovered the rewarding

effect of curing, and at the turn of the twentieth century many carried a set of
drugs, dressing materials, and ointments.173 As a matter of fact, all successful missionaries usually combined both preachers' and healers' roles.174 It was hardly
surprising that as early as 1856 by a special decree the Holy Synod obliged missionaries to administer among their flocks regular smallpox vaccinations.175
Moreover, Bishop Dionisii offered to equip each missionary station with two missionaries: one responsible for purely religious work and another in charge of the
social work. The project did not receive support, evidently for financial reasons.
Frequently missionaries, when they approached natives with the Gospel in one
hand and a medical toolkit in another, portrayed their indigenous flock as biblical
lepers crying for help. Grim pictures of native life not only were designated as an
additional demonstration of the "darkness" of "savage" life, but also served to
arouse public sympathies for the plight of the native peoples and stress the role of
missionaries who were to "heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out
demons" (Matt, 10:8). Pictures of the alleged social and physical degradation of
natives became especially noticeable in missionary narratives of the late nineteenth
century, when optimistic ideals of Glukharev and Veniaminov about enlightening
natives became tinged with pessimism in the spirit of now popular concepts about
the "vanishing native."
Nikita Marchenkov, after making a few rounds through Dena'ina villages in
1885, surmised in his report, "In each settlement one constantly has to run across
the wounded, crippled, blind, lame, who walk or literally crawl on the ground
almost naked in shirts, which are torn to pieces and almost fall apart."176 Another
missionary used almost the same words to portray the conditions of other indigenous groups in Alaska, concluding, "It is impossible to read or hear about these
heathens without feeling that their very plight calls, 'Come and help.'"177 In 1893
Sergei Postnikov, a missionary to the northern Altaians, elaborated on the decline
of the natives by stressing the lack of hygiene among the Altaians:
Natives never wash themselves and therefore are very filthy. Everybody has skin diseases.
Moreover, almost everywhere, especially at the sources of the Mrass River, many of them
suffer from syphilis. Even infants have this disease. It is hard to keep children in your hands
during baptism since they are all over covered with sore spots.178
Nestor, who worked among the natives of northeastern Siberia in the early twentieth century, draws a similar picture. Everywhere he noticed the "grim stamp of
some sickness and melancholy on their faces."179 Nestor opened his diary by describing the "horror of Kamchatka native life." Social degradation, decline, endemic
hunger, unending diseases, filth, ignorance, and certainly "mental darkness" haunted
native people. As a result, he had felt sorry for "these miserable people."180 His
grim snapshot of the Koryaks' life was so vivid that the 1910 missionary congress
in Irkutsk attached this material to its report. Sharing his experience of visiting one
Koryak village, Nestor described the "miserable idiotic smile" of an old Koryak
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woman with rotten limbs and a boy covered with "horrible fester wounds." "In
native camps," continued the missionary, "you are almost always surrounded by
sick and hungry people. You may see the young and the old, with partially decomposed parts of their bodies, the legless, the handless, with twisted rotten faces."
Nestor's descriptions of native culture, traditions, and appearance were so wretched
that they silently cried out "for your help."181
Some clerics saw no promising alternatives for indigenous peoples beyond the
temporary relief of their social and spiritual hardships. This shift in missionary
mentality toward pessimism was best captured by an anonymous author in the
Russian-American Orthodox Messenger (1911). Generalizing about the plight of
Alaskan natives he asked himself, "What do these aborigines face in the future?"
Responding to this question he reflected on the goals of the whole missionary
work: "In the near future they face only two roads: either to die out more or less
quietly and painlessly or mix with some other race and to disappear. The activities
of our Alaskan mission, therefore, are limited to preparing "the last of Mohigans"
to a peaceful Christian exodus to the eternal world.182 Likewise, in his 1907 report
from the Altai mission, Bishop Innokentii, portraying scenes of drinking sprees
and degradation in northern Altaian villages, pessimistically concluded that missionaries are left to "observe with sorrow the decline of their converted natives,
while unsuccessfully appealing to people for help."183
Despite persistent missionaries' attempts, the word of the Gospel did not always
find an active response among natives. What prevented evangelization of "savages," according to missionary accounts? Virtually all these records, depending on
personal priorities of individual authors, emphasize either an "infant" undeveloped nature of the "savages" or their so-called mental degradation. In addition,
stress was put on indigenous beliefs as tools the devil used to corrupt unsophisticated native "children." Kharlampovich, a noted theoretician of missionary work
at the turn of the century, among major hindrances to Christianization of Altaians
pointed to their "low material and mental development" and named nomadic
Altaians' stockbreeding along with hunting as "characteristic of the Altaians' laziness and unconcern." Kharlampovich wrote, "Miserable material conditions
influenced their mental qualities. Dullness, lack of interest in any new ideas and
weak accommodation skills are the most notorious features of the Altaians."184 In
1903 Hiermonk Irinarkh, describing conditions of Siberian missionaries, stressed
that Orthodox messengers had to work "among mentally undeveloped, dull and
unwilling to think natives [inorodtsy]."1*5 The Orthodox author Smirnoff, not objecting to the use of native tongues in missionary work, nevertheless referred to
indigenous languages of Siberia as an example of the savages' "low mentality." He
took it for granted that "every scholar" knew that the languages of Siberian peoples
were "rude and undeveloped," and concluded, "It is hardly conceivable to many
educated persons of the West how primitive and poor in lexicographical respects
these languages are."186
Even those missionaries who closely studied native cultures did not eschew offensive remarks about "savage primitiveness." Thus, Verbitskii in his notes about
75
Altaian crafts wrote in passing, "Generally, the native is a simple-minded person

and uses primitive tools to satisfy his interests. For example, he might take a log,
hollow it out a little and it serves him as a boat. Or he might hollow out of the same
log something resembling a washtub and calls this a musical instrument."187
The effect of geographical conditions on native minds represented another metaphor of missionary narratives used to describe natives' poor material and social
status. Thus, Nestor insisted that the grim unattractive environment in Kamchatka
affected native peoples' mood and appearances. It was not surprising that all these
people "did not see any light in their life."188 However, one of the most telling
examples is Argentov's essay "Lower Kolyma Area" (1879), published by the anthropology section of the Russian Imperial Academy of Sciences. A missionary to
the Chukchi in the 1840-1850s, Argentov tried to explain the "animal" conditions
of eastern Siberian natives through the harmful impact of the arctic climate: "It
seems that the plant life here degrades and withers. Maybe the man who depends
on climate and soil degrades and withers here in the same way." This work reads as
if its author wanted to give a reader a clear message: it is useless to attempt anything in desolated areas. Argentov does not hold back in describing the so-called
animal-like behavior of the Chukchi, Koryak, and Yukagir. Throughout the text
analogies like "dog's life" describing their manners and "polar bear" depicting a
typical native are used: "The very dwelling of an ordinary native reminds of a
bear's lair. That is how they look like, all these yurts, balagans, ambarushkas, uras
and so forth."189
Argentov concluded with a description of a typical meal: "In a dim light, a bunch
of naked people came together. What are they doing? They chew raw bones. Here
is this polar man. By his habits a native resembles a polar bear." His use of such
clichs as "dog's life" and "dog's economy" are both descriptive and derogatory.
Argentov's mostly unsuccessful attempts to evangelize the Chukchi drove him to
a conclusion that any ideas about enlightening residents of northeastern Siberia
sound ridiculous. Even those Russians who came to this "dog's country" turned
into "animals." He described the mixed-blood (Creole) population dependence on
native economies as an example of human degradation. To Argentov, "particular
features of the dog's economy" in this "dog's area" degraded the Russian population in the north.190
It was mentioned earlier that missionaries generalized about native beliefs through
the glasses of Christian tradition and therefore depicted them as manifestations of
infantile "ignorance" or "mental degradation" under the influence of dark forces.
It was hardly surprising that indigenous rituals were stereotyped as either "silly"
amusements, which did not make any sense; or as devil worshipping; or sometimes as a combination of both. For example, in describing an Altaian shamanistic
session, an anonymous missionary stressed its trivial childlike character: "The shaman laughs, babbles about various nonsense, people and the host smoke, drink
wine, tell each other various absurdities and laugh again. Nobody thinks about
praying. No one's face shows any signs of seriousness or reverence that might
distantly remind of a prayer."191 This attitude found its most extreme expression in
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the words of Sokolovski, a missionary who did not reach much success among the
nomadic Altaians. This cleric once exclaimed:
Good Heavens! What impenetrable darkness and ignorance do these miserable nomads live
in! One can observe everywhere heads of strangled and tortured sacrificed animals. Inside
of their dwellings there stand all sorts of idols and hang all sorts of small rags. Around these
dwellings and among birch trees there hang the same rags or ribbons on ropes. Here are
these Altaian gods! It is hard to imagine that they worship all this junk!192
Such attitudes drew clerics to a conclusion that "savages" did not have any religion at all or had only a few superstitions. Indeed, how could they have a religion
if in the eyes of the missionaries shamans, the major carriers of the indigenous
worldview, did not even represent a specific "separate caste*' like priests in Christian societies.193 Small wonder, Sergei Ivanovskii, for instance, wrote, "The native
does not care about any religion. The paganist sometimes is not worried about
faith at all. It seems that he will have lived without any religion."194 Instead of
trying to catch the meaning of native beliefs, clerics frequently restricted themselves to a simplistic explanation that "savage" views of the gods were "too
complicated and unclear."195 Furthermore, the manual for Siberian missionaries
mentioned earlier wrapped this approach in a theoretical form: "A Religious
worldview of shamanists does not represent a clearly defined system. Shamanism
has numerous ideas which absolutely contradict any common sense."196
Orthodox messengers found additional support for such assessments when they
stumbled upon the lack of strict division between the worldly life and the afterlife
existing in primal religions. The so-called practical materialistic stance of native
shamanism stunned clerics. Konstantyn Sokolov, a missionary to the Altaians, when
he visited his "native flock" for the first time found it surprising that natives "lacked"
"any spiritual interests" in the Christian sense of the word and were oriented to
"satisfying only materialistic strivings" in addition to the their "rude manners."197
To missionaries' surprise, indigenous peoples believed that "the future life will be
a continuation of the present one only in a slightly different form. They expect a
satisfaction of their pure materialistic desires in that future life: an increasing of
herds, dogs, successful hunting, good wives or husbands."198 Sokolov was shocked
when an Altaian whom the missionary approached in order to enlighten him about
a Christian concept of soul started laughing. The native, who did not see any sense
in the priest's suggestion to care about one's own soul instead of daily life, responded, "Though I heard many fairy tales in my life, I never heard such an absurd
one. That is why one cannot help but laugh."199
When missionaries did not restrict themselves to simplistic remarks about the
"childlike" trivial nature of native beliefs, they still used the same Judeo-Christian
categories to interpret indigenous rituals. Thus, clerics scrutinized native worldviews
through the prism of monotheism, of the duality of good and evil, or of the concept
of the original sin. Thus, missionaries were advised to view a hierarchy of indigenous gods as "satans of the lower rank" and "satans of the upper rank."200
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Naturally, to missionaries, native shamanists who dealt with these "satans" or

"demons" were all devil worshippers. In many Orthodox narratives natives, once
"clean" and "pure," later degenerated into devil worshippers and found themselves
in a "spiritual prison." It is interesting how the missionary Ivanovskii explained
the origin of "devil worshipping" among natives. Dark forces of "ignorance" made
"savages" "accept passively their bitter lot from which they cannot escape by themselves." Thus, without proper guidance, natives were doomed to remain in the
hands of the Satan.201 As soon as "savages" accepted Christianity they became
people who "denounced Satan and his cause."202
All missionary narratives are infected with misinterpretations of natives' motives to adopt conversion. We may find a typical example of such stories in a travel
diary of Benediktov, who baptized the ninety-seven-year-old Altaian Torgonok.
The native could not find a remedy for his disease in shamanism and decided to try
"Orthodox medicine." Benediktov interpreted Torgonok's decision as follows:
"During these long nights of his sufferings, Torgonok most probably went through
all his long sinful life. He regretted that earlier he had rejected baptism and priests'
words. Torgonok pictured horrors of his coming death and probably saw how demons already surrounded him."203
Native ceremonies as manifestations of the devil's power were described in black
and grim colors. Animal sacrifices were commonly referred as "tortures" of "poor
animals." Ivanovskii wrote that the Altaians replaced "prayers and spiritual singing by bloody sacrifices and crazy orgies."204 Shamanistic calls were similarly
treated as acts of "possession." A priest asked an Altaian who went "crazy" to
denounced Satan. The native's unclear murmuring was interpreted as an attempt
Satan to keep hold of the native. When the Altaian started to tremble, the missionary again saw this as the power of the "prince of darkness," who still did not want
to leave the body.205
An 1861 travel diary of the missionary Alexander Gusev provides another interesting illustration of how Russian clerics misinterpreted the shamanistic call. Gusev,
who worked in Altai among the Kumandins and was exposed to their lifeways for
a few years, seemed to remain ignorant of their culture. Thus, he described a young
female shaman's story, which she shared with him, about her initiation to the shamanistic profession as a "sincere confession" of a woman who was possessed by
demonic forces. He claimed that the shaman had supposedly opened to him her
heart by "confessing" that "evil spirits" had forced her to start shamanizing.206 The
missionary V. Toziakov described the conversion of an Altaian female shaman.
The cleric drew a picture of her baptism that looks like an exorcism session. At
first, the missionary took her hand, which was supposedly covered with blood, but
somehow, in the priest's words, the blood did not get on his hands. When Toziakov
and a few native Christians were burning her drum and other paraphernalia, the
shaman was described as vomiting blood. When they got rid of the shamanistic
paraphernalia, all of a sudden she stopped vomiting. In the end of this conversion
story, the missionary claimed that after baptism she was glad "to be relieved from
the bondage and become God's child."207
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To Orthodox messengers, shamans acted as the major agents of Satan and therefore embodied all evil aspects of the "savage" life. "A Reference Book for Our
Siberian Missionaries" does not reserve black colors to describe the behavior of "a
typical shaman," who aroused himself and started his "crazy dance" around a fire:
"His face looks horrible, and he produces wild meaningless sounds. People are
shocked. Half an hour later the shaman pretends that the demons (devils) appeared
and he is about to fight them."208 It is interesting to compare this description of the
shamanistic session as a sinister ritual with the "typical" picture of the Altaian
shamanistic seance as a trivial and infantile amusement already mentioned. This
suggests that clerics' metaphors frequently changed from depicting native beliefs
as "possession" to describing them as "childish games," and vice versa.
In missionary narratives native medicine men and women were routinely described as conversing with the devil, asking him how many sacrifices he needed.
As agents of the devil, shamans were frequently portrayed as natural deceivers,
who corrupted the souls and consciously exploited their simple-minded fellow
tribesmen. For example, the reference manual stresses, "Being as ignorant as other
natives, shamans nevertheless claim they know everything, and by making grimaces they attempt to convince others that a certain superior force penetrates their
bodies."209 Others, however, cautioned not to reduce medicine men's and women's
"evil" power to such simple explanations. In his 1881 diary Marchenkov, who
worked among the Dena'ina, stressed that indigenous shamans were not always
"deceivers and crooks." Rather, native spiritual leaders were "fanatics" who seriously believed they were genuine "sorcerers."210
Yet, the Devil's power manifested itself not only in shamans, but in native religious artifacts. Thus, in Marchenkov's diary, dolls used by Dena'ina medicine
men and women to extract illness from a body of a sick patient became "bewitched"
or "devil's dolls.211 Missionary narratives frequently depict such items as "ugly,"
"horrible," or "dirty." Mikhail Toshchakov, who visited the Altaian shaman
Bratishka, mentioned in passing that he saw a drum and an "ugly idol" in the front
place of the medicine man's dwelling.212 To Marchenkov, the Dena'ina "devil's"
dolls were "so dirty that it was disgusting to keep them in hands."213 Another cleric,
after describing the "crudeness" of Siberian native idols in general, summarized,
"Now you can imagine all ugliness of these articles produced by savages who lack
taste, art skills and necessary tools."214
Paternalism represented the core of missionary approaches to natives. For instance, while writing about the Eastern Siberians Veniaminov mentioned that these
small groups were not even worth being called peoples because of their small
numbers. He used the Russian patronizing word narodtsi meaning "insignificant
small peoples" without intending any derogatory meaning. Furthermore, in his
instructions to Militov, a missionary to the Dena'ina, Veniaminov also stressed
that the priest was to demonstrate leniency toward new converts because they are
"infants in their faith."215 Such approaches should not appear strange, since in the
eyes of missionaries the essence of the "savage" mind was infantilism.216
79
The image of the infantile native, an innocent child of nature or a wild savage
child, populated Russian missionary narratives. For Argentov, those who loved
their unattractive "dog country" were "children of nature unspoiled by culture."
For Neverov, another missionary to the Chukchi, these natives, "like children,"
approached him with their questions about the meaning of the Bible pictures he
showed them.217 Even such a common thing as native hospitality was interpreted
as childish behavior. Thus, to Benediktov, a missionary to the Altaians in 1892, the
escort provided by natives to the chief of the Altai mission illustrated a "childlike
attachment of our newly baptized to their priests "218 Popov, a missionary theoretician, recommended that native shamanists be treated as "infants" during baptism.
Thus, converting to Orthodoxy members of other denominations missionaries were
to ask these people to denounce their former religions. By contrast, Popov suggested that in dealing with native "heathens" clerics use the same approach practiced
during baptisms of infants.219
In 1860 the Alaska missionary Militov wrote that local Dena'ina considered
him "a father in their family, and as little children they come to me with their
troubles."220 In another entry he maintained that "it was boring to speak with natives. This could annoy an inexperienced person but I got used to their baby talk."221
In 1889, Mitropolsky took it for granted that Dena'ina "cannot be counted on as
people who can do things on their own. Without proper guidance they are unable
to make a single step." In the same report he also stressed that the Indians were
"very religious in soul," but "extremely infantile."222 In 1896 Kamenskii instructed
the priest Bortnovsky, who also worked among the Dena'ina, to supervise these
Indians carefully: "They are not able to do anything without a proper control."223
An 1885 Altai mission report similarly concluded that the Altaians "are like children in faith who should be controlled and supervised because of their spiritual
infancy, lack of experience and weakness of their convictions. Otherwise, they
might get lost or morally corrupt themselves."224
Nestor used the same words in describing natives of northeastern Siberia. These
"small children," "children of nature," or "miserable people" were unable to take
care of themselves and lived in constant fear of their spirits and of the Russian
authorities. "Natives of Kamchatka are not familiar with love and nobody consoles them," stressed the cleric.225 He expanded these characteristics by saying,
"Kamchatka peoples did not know how to curse, steal and cheat. They were trustworthy as children with opened hearts but miserable in their spirit " To Nestor,
religious ceremonies of the Koryaks were "childish games." In short, as children
of nature, aborigines were soft wax in skillful hands. As a result, in Nestor's words,
"this opens wide opportunities for missionary activities."
For Popov, who shared the same stance, this was not only an opportunity, but a
considerable advantage: "The more simple and the more ignorant natives are, the
sooner they will accept the message of Gospel." This missionary author added that
he did not mean to praise the "savagery" and "crude ways" of the natives, but
simply wanted to indicate that shamanists stood close to the "natural conditions of
Adam," unlike the other people, who had been already "corrupted" by rival Chris-
80
tian denominations. One of the annual reports of the Altai mission agreed with
similar assertions and also stressed, "The more primitive native [inorodcheskie]
tribes, the more sincere and more developed their religious feeling."226
Missionaries were to take into account the "childlike" peculiarities of native
minds in their work. Bishop Veniaminov stressed in his famous Missionary Instructions, "You should keep in mind that those with whom you will have to deal
with by their habits and minds are pagans and lost sheep and by their intellectual
development are children."227 According to the manual for Siberian missionaries,
natives' "inability to think in abstract terms and simplicity of their world view
created serious barriers for missionary propaganda."228 Vladimir, head of the Altai
mission, cautioned, "Although missionaries skillfully vary their religious talks,
natives, like little children, cannot concentrate for a long time on one problem and
their brains are quickly tired."229 Apparently for the same reason another missionary, Iavlovsky, who worked among the Chukchi, stressed, "Of course, the major
character of my talks is simplicity, which is so necessary for the Chukchichildren in their mental development."230
Dionisii asked missionaries to remember that natives (inorodtsy) stood on "the
lowest level of development" and "intellectually are children." For this reason, he
found it useful to reduce missionary propaganda to "baby talk."231 Moreover, in
making these generalizations he switched from a paternalistic metaphor to a
maternalistic one. "The mode of preaching," he instructed missionaries in the field,
"should be soft, humble, emanated with love. This must be a talk of a loving mother
with her children."232 This missionary "mother-father" was to take care of his
children even if they did not ask for help. When clerics asked superiors to open
new missions and expand existing ones or sought public support, they shaped the
requests in the form of a plea on behalf of the "native children." For instance,
missionary pamphlets by Nestor and Philipp contained appeals ("painful cries" in
the case of Nestor and "tearful supplication" in the case of Philipp) to a "loving
Mother Russia," who ought to take care of her Alaskan or eastern Siberian stepchildren.233
Despite evident ethnocentrism and paternalism, it appears that on balance the
majority of Russian missionaries did not advocate the radical reshaping of native
lives. Although there existed an influential trend that insisted on Russification, the
dominant approach in evangelization was to lead native "children" gradually to
the light of Christianity. The explanation for such "sensitivity" may be found in
the practice and tradition of Russian Christianity as well as in a general attitude of
the empire toward indigenous peoples.
Reliance of the Orthodox church on local lay leadership and native languages
along with inadequate resources for missionary work prevented deliberate and
persistent attacks on indigenous cultures. In addition, nineteenth-century missionary enterprise was colored with elements of monastic asceticism that emphasized
clerics' personal humility and "model behavior." The Orthodox tradition stressed
persuasion and conversion through personal example (ascetics, missionaries,
monks). Orthodoxy also maintained a large amount of ancient Christian ritualism
81
that emphasized collective religious experience and artifacts of faith.234 Elaborate

church ceremonies and religious objects directly or indirectly matched indigenous
rituals and eventually helped establish a dialogue between natives and missionaries.
Many Orthodox clerics, in their turn, did not dismiss all native customs as evil,
but separated so-called good and bad ones and tried to locate those indigenous
traditions that might fit some Christian ceremonies. This tolerant trend manifested
itself in the missionary instructions and guidelines introduced by Veniaminov and
Glukharev and later in the Ilminskii System. Such a stance received official approval from the Holy Synod and also corresponded well with the general policy of
the empire, which did not pursue any consistent Russification of its eastern indigenous periphery or cultural offensive against minorities.235 At the same time, this
position did not reject assimilation of natives, but simply suggested that
Christianization would be more effective if missionaries employed indigenous
channels such as languages and native clergy to "instill Orthodoxy in the savage
mind."
NOTES
1. Sergei Kan, "Introduction," Arctic Anthropology (Special Issue "Native Cultures and
Christianization") 24, no. 1 (1987): 4.
2. Thomas O. Beidelman, Colonial Evangelism: A Socio-Historical Study of an East
African Mission at the Grassroots (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982), 7; Mary
T. Huber, The Bishops' Progress: A Historical Ethnography of Catholic Missionary Experience on the Sepik Frontier (Washington, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press,
1988), 213.
3. "Monastic centers," noted Michael Oleksa, "represented Christian oases on the frontiers of 'civilization* and introduced nomadic tribes to the Christian faith, not so much by
preaching or teaching but by their effective witness as examples of Christian piety, philanthropy and love" Michael Oleksa, Orthodox Alaska: A Theology of Mission (Crestwood,
NJ: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1992), 68.
4. A. V. Kamkin, Pravoslavnaia Tserkov na Severe Rossii: Ocherki Istorii do 1917 Goda
(Vologda: Vologodskii Gos. Ped. Institut, 1992), 51.
5. Serge Bolshakoff, The Foreign Missions of the Russian Orthodox Church (London
and New York: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge and Macmillan Co., 1943), 4445.
6. Mark Stokoe, Orthodox Christians in North America 1794-1994 (Syosset, NY: Orthodox Christian Publications Center, 1995), 5-6.
7. G. M. Soldatov, Mitropolit Filofei, v Skhime Feodor, Prosvetitel Sibiri (Minneapolis:
Izdanie Soldatova, 1977), 25-26; Kamkin, Pravoslavnaia Tserkov na Severe Rossii, 51.
8. Oleksa, Orthodox Alaska, 74.
9. James H. Billington, The Icon and the Axe: An Interpretive History of Russian Culture
(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1966), 51.
10. A.N. Muraviev, Russkaia Fivaida na Severe (St. Petersburg: V Tip. Ill Otd. Sobstvennoi
E.I.V. Kantseliarii, 1855); G. P. Fedotov, The Russian Religious Mind (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1966), vol. 2, 246-264; Iwan Kologriwof, Ocherki po Istorii
82
Russkoi Sviatosti (Brussels: Izd-vo "Zhizn s Bogom," 1961), 119-137; S. A. Mousalimas,

The Transition from Shamanism to Russian Orthodoxy in Alaska (Providence, RI: Berghahn
Books, 1995), 203.
11. Kamkin, Pravoslavnaia Tserkov na Severe Rossii, 51.
12. Eugene Smirnoff, A Short Account of the Historical Development and Present Position of Russian Orthodox Missions (Powys, UK: Stylite Publishing Ltd., 1986), 1.
13. Ivan M. Kontzevitch, "Introduction: Acquisition of the Holy Spirit in Ancient Russia," in The Northern Thebaid: Monastic Saints of the Russian North, ed. Fathers Seraphime
Rose and Herman (Podmoshensky) of Platina with an Introduction by I.M. Kontzevitch
(Piatina, CA: Fr. Seraphime Rose Foundation, 1995), 7.
14. Luke Alexander Veronis, Missionaries, Monks, and Martyrs: Making Disciples of All
Nations (Minneapolis: Light and Life, 1994), 11.
15. Daniel Rancour-Laferriere, The Slave Soul of Russia: Moral Masochism and the Cult
of Suffering (New York and London: New York University Press, 1995), 21, 27; Richard
Pipes, Russia under the Old Regime (New York: Charles Scribner's, 1974), 222; Billington,
Icon and the Axe, 204.
16. Hieromonk Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago Inorodcheskago Missionerstva
(Kazan: Tipo-lit. Imp. Universiteta, 1901), 149.
17. Ibid., 263.
18. Serafim A. Arkhangelov, NashiZagranichnyia Missii (St. Petersburg, Izd. P.P. Soikina,
1899), 158. For more about St. Herman, see the most recent work: Ann Elizabeth Williams,
"Father Herman: Syncretic Symbol of Divine Legitimation" (M.A. thesis, University of
Alaska Fairbanks, 1993).
19. Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 158-9; Victor Petrov, Russkie v Istorii
Ameriki (Moskva: Nauka, 1991), 143.
20. Oleksa, Orthodox Alaska, 119; Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 159.
21. Ivan Veniaminov, "Sostoyanie Pravoslavnoi Tserkvi v Rossiiskoi Amerike," in
Pamiatnik Trudov Pravoslavnykh Blagoviestnikov Russkikh s 1793 do 1853 Goda, ed.
Alexandru Sturdza (Moskva: Tip. V. Gote, 1857), 205; Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia
Missii, 161. "Wild beasts and animals did not harm the holy starets [wise man, elder].
People saw, for example, how he fed the bears," noted Dionisii. Dionisii, Idealy PravoslavnoRusskago Inorodcheskago Missionerstva, 170. A few Aleut orpahan boys and girls lived
and worked with this elder. Ignatii Aligiaga, one of them, stayed long after Herman's death.
Mousalimas, Transition from Shamanism to Russian Orthodoxy in Alaska, 193.
22. Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 159.
23. David Collins, "The Role of the Orthodox Missionary in the Altai: Archimandrite
Makarii and V. I. Verbitskii," in Church, Nation and State in Russia and Ukraine, ed. Geoffrey
A. Hoskin (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1991), 99; Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago
Inorodcheskago Missionerstva, 153; "Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia," Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 1, no. 8 (1900): 338.
24. Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 153. Orthodox tradition also stresses that
Juvenal supposedly rose three times after he had been murdered and "savages" had to kill
him again. Finally, they cut him into pieces, but at the place where he died his murderers
saw a smoke column that they interpreted as an omen. The circumstances of his death are
not clear. Legends about his martyrdom were so colorful and the evidence about his last
days was so scarce that Ivan Petroff, once a employee of the U.S. Interior Department and
a member of H. H. Bancroft's "history team," decided to use his imagination. He forged and
then translated the "original" Juvenal diary. Until recently some scholars treated this document as a genuine reference source. See more about this story: Lydia Black, "The Daily
83
Journal ofReverend Father Juvenal," Ethnohistory 28, no. 1 (1981): 33-58; Michael Oleksa,
'The Death of Hiermonk Juvenal," St. Vladimir's Theological Quarterly 30, no. 3 (1986):
231-268.
25. K. V. Kharlampovich, Arkhimandrit Makarii Glukharev (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia
M. Merkusheva, 1905), 10.
26. Nikita Struve, "Orthodox Missions. Past and Present," St. Vladimir's Seminary Quarterly 7, no. 1 (1963): 32; Smirnoff, Short Account of the Historical Development and Present
Position of Russian Orthodox Missions, 8-9, 13-14.
27. Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago Inorodcheskago Missionerstva, 76.
28. D. A. Molchanov, "O Vlianii Khristianskago Muchenichestva na Rasprostranenie
Evangeliia Sredi Iazichnikov," Missioner, no. 29 (1877): 229-232.
29. G. I. Dzeniskevitch, "Religioznie Traditsii Indeitsev Alaski i Khristianstvo," in Otkritie
Ameriki Prodolzhaetsia, ed. G. I. Dzeniskevitch, A. D. Dridzo, E. A. Okladnikova (St.
Petersburg: Muzei Antropologii i Etnografii, 1994), 89.
30. Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago Inorodcheskago Missionerstva, 79-80. For
such nineteenth-century clerics as Veniaminov, who did not have a monastic background, in
the words of Dinonisii, the life of an orphan served as an appropriate substitution for an
ascetic life. Ibid.
31. M. P-v (Putintsev), "Iz Altaiskihk Vospomimanii," Dushepoleznoe Chtenie 25, no. 3
(1884): 294-295; V. V. Eroshov and Valerii Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov: Altaiskaia
Dukhovnaia Missiia v Kuznetskom Krae (Kemerovo: Kuzbassvuzizdat, 1995), 19; Makarii
Abyshkin, "Iz Gornago Altaia: Dnevnik Missionera," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 21
(1904): 159.
32. Archbishop of Kamchatka and Seoul Nestor, Moia Kamchatka: Zapiski Pravoslavnogo
Missionera (Moskva: Sviato-Troitskaia Sergieva Lavra, 1995), 59, 40, 45-46, 51.
33. P-v, "Iz Altaiskihk Vospominanii," 283.
34. Vasilii Postnikov, "Iz Istorii Altaiskoi Missii. Miutinskii Stan," Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 1, no. 2 (1898): 69-73; 2, no. 3 (1898): 127-137.
35. Bishop of Yakutsk Nikanor, "K Uluchsheniu Missionerstva na Dalnem Severe,"
Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 9 (1903): 33.
36. "Vipiska iz Opredelinia Sviateishago Sinoda, May 26/ June 19 1910," Po Vipiske
Sinodalnago Opredelenia o Meropriatiakh Dlia Uluchsheniia Missionerskago Del v Sibiri,
July 17- February 11, 1911, RGIA, f. 797, op. 80, II otd. 3 stol, 1911, ed. khr. 330,1.2.
37. Nikanor, "K Uluchsheniu Missionerstva na Dalnem Severe," 35.
38. N. Mushkin, "Missioned u Chaukchei," Pamiatnik Trudov Pravoslavnykh
Blagoviestnikov Russkikh s 1793 do 1853 Goda, ed. Alexandru Sturdza (Moskva: Tip. V.
Gote, 1857), 337.
39. Yuri Slezkine, Arctic Mirrors: Russia and the Small Peoples of the North (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1994), 25.
40. Quote after Gregory Afonsky, A History of the Orthodox Church in Alaska, 17941917 (Kodiak, AK: St. Herman's Theological Seminary, 1977), 65.
41. Hieromonk Nestor, Iz Zhizni Kamchatskago Missionera i Zapiski iz Dnevnika (St.
Petersburg: OtechestvennaiaTip., 1912), 6.
42. Amphilokhy (Anton Vakulsky), "Paskha v Sugrobakh Snega. Iz Moikh Starikh
Vospominanii na Missionerskoi Sluzhbe," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 28, no.
4 (1927): 54.
43. Waldemar (Vladimir) Bogoras, The Chukchee (New York: AMS Press, 1975), 727728.
84
45. Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei," 338, 341.

46. V. I. Verbitskii, Altaiskie Inorodtsy: Sbornik Etnograficheskikh Statei i Izsliedovanii
Altaiskago Missionera (Moskva: T-vo Skoropechatni A.A. Levenson, 1893), vii-viii.
47. Wendell H. Oswalt, "Eskimos and Indians of Western Alaska, 1860-1868: Extracts
from the Diary of Father Illarion," Anthropological Papers of the University of Alaska 8, no.
2(1960): 111.
48. N. D. Talberg, Istoriia Russkoi Tserkvi (Jordanville, NY: Holy Trinity Monastery,
1959), 769.
49. Smirnoff, Short Account of the Historical Development and Present Position of Russian Orthodox Missions, 69, 23. See another Orthodox work that stresses Veniaminov's
travel ordeals: "Lichnost Sviatitelia Innokentiia," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger
1, no. 24 (1897): 515.
50. "Otchet Chukotskoi Missii Iakutskoi Eparkhii 1899," lakutskie Eparkhialnie
Viedomosti, no. 18 (1900): 247-250; Smirnoff, Short Account of the Historical Development and Present Position of Russian Orthodox Missions, 63-64; about Venedict the Russian
anthropologist Bogoras, who was generally very skeptical about Orthodox missionaries,
nevertheless wrote that this monk "without an assistant or provisions, made a remarkable
trip among the Reindeer Chukchi, and thence through all the villages on the Arctic and
Pacific." Bogoras, Chukchee, 44.
51. Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei," 341-342.
52. Oswalt, "Eskimos and Indians of Western Alaska," 110.
53. A. I. Makarova-Mirskaia, Na Sluzhenii Altaiu. Biograficheskaia Poviest (Kharkov:
"Mirnyi trud," 1911), 40.
55. Nikolai Militov, "Zhurnal Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena Nikolaia za 1863," Reports/Records, Nikolai Militov and Makarii Ivanov, 1855-1871, ARCA, roll 201.
56. The average amount of this tribute at the turn of the century ranged between five and
twelve sable pelts per person. Elena Glavatskaya, "Christianization=Russification? On Preserving the Religious and Ethnic Identity of the Ob-Ugrians," in Shamanism and Northern
Ecology, ed. Juha Pentikainen (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996), 384.
57. Pamiatniki Sibirskoi Istorii XVIII Vieka, ed. A. I. Timofeev (St. Petersburg: Tip.
Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Diel, 1882), vol. 1,413-414.
58. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 1st ser., vol. 5, no. 2863; "Ob
Unichtozhenii Kumirov i Kumirnits u Vogulichei u Ostiakov u Tatar i Iakutov, i o Kreshchenii
Sikh Narodov v Khristianskuiu Veru," in Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii:
Pozdnie Pervobitnie i Predklassovie Obshchestva Severa Evropeiskoi Rossii, Sibiri i Russkoi
Ameriki, ed. Yu. I. Semenov (Moskva: Starii Sad, 1998), 79.
59. Egor S. Shishigin, Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v lakutii (Iakutsk: Iakutskii Gos.
Obedinennyi Muzei Istorii i Kultury Narodov Severa, 1991), 17; Michael Khodarkovsky,
"'Not by Word Alone': Missionary Policies and Religious Conversion in Early Modern
Russia," Comparative Studies in Society and History 38, no. 2 (1996): 279-280.
60. Paul R. Spickard and Kevin M. Cragg, God's People: A Social History of Christians
(Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 1994), 118; M. O. Akishin, Politseiskoe Gosudarstvo i
Sibirskoe Obshchestvo. Epokha Petra Velikogo (Novosibirsk: Avtor, 1996), 110-120;
Shishigin, Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v lakutii, 16.
61. Pipes, Russia under the Old Regime, 242.
62. Khodarkovsky, "'Not by Word Alone,'" 290-292.
63. Frank T. McCarthy, "The Kazan's Missionary Congress," Cahiers du Monde Russe et
Sovitique 14, no. 3 (1973): 309; Khodarkovsky, "'Not by Word Alone,'" 293. A good short
85
analysis of the evangelization of the Siberian natives and their status in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries may be found in M. M. Fedorov, Pravovoe Polozhenie Narodov
Vostochnoi Sibiri (XVII-Nachalo XIX Veka) (Yakutsk: Yakutskoe Knizhnoe Izdatelstvo,
1978), 81-99.
64. For a positive appraisal of Philotheus (Filofei) and his activities, see Soldatov,
Mitropolit Filofei; Sister Thais, "The Lives of the Siberian Missionaries," Orthodox Alaska
4, no. 1 (1978): 3; T. A. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii: Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v Sibiri v
Sviazi s Opisaniem Byta, Nravov, Obychaev i Religioznykh Vierovanii Inorodtsev Etogo
Kraia (St. Petersburg: Tip. P. P. Soikina, 1897), 70; Struve, "Orthodox Missions. Past and
Present," 35; Nestor, Pravoslavie v Sibiri. Istoricheskii Ocherk (St. Petersburg:

Otechestvennaia Tip., 1910), 21-25. For critical assessments of Philotheus and the early
native evangelization in Siberia, see Akishin, Politseiskoe Gosudarstvo i Sibirskoe
Obshchestvo, 120-141.
65. N. A. Abramov, "Materialy dlia Istorii Khristianskago Prosveshcheniia Sibiri " Zhurnal
Ministerstva Narodnago Prosveshcheniia 81, no. 5 (1854): 50.
66. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii, 133.
67. Khodarkovsky, "'Not by Word Alone,'" 283-284.
68. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 1st sen, vol. 11, no. 8236; vol. 13, no.
9825.
69. Yuri Slezkine, "Savage Christians or Unorthodox Russians? Missionary Dilemma in
Siberia," in Between Heaven and Hell: The Myth of Siberia in Russian Culture, ed. Yuri
Slezkine and Galya Diment (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1993), 17. Incidentally, the
depletion of Siberia fur resources gave rise to Russian expansion into Alaska.
70. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 1st sen, vol. 16, no. 12126. See also
about this period of negligence of native evangelization in James Forsyth, A History of the
Peoples of Siberia: Russia's North Asian Colony, 1581-1990 (Cambridge and New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1992), 169-170; Khodarkovsky, '"Not by Word Alone,'" 287;
Soldatov, a theological historian, called Catherine's rule a "period of decline" in missionary
work. Soldatov, Mitropolit Filofei, 122.
71. Antoinette Shalkop, "The Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska," Russia's American
Colony, ed. S. Frederick Starr (Durham: Duke University Press, 1987), 197; Afonsky, A
History of the Orthodox Church in Alaska, 66. For more about the beginning of the Alaska
mission see Lydia Black, "Put' na Novii Valaam: Stanovlenie Russkoi Pravoslavnoi Tserkvi
na Aliaske," in Istoriia Russkoi Ameriki, 1732-1867, ed. N. N. Bolkhovitinov (Moskva:
Mezhdunarodnie Otnosheniia, 1997), vol. 1, 251-276.
72. Petrov, Russkie v Istorii Ameriki, 142.
73. See more about the "theory of official nationality" in Nicholas V. Riasanovsky, Nicholas
land Official Nationality in Russia, 1825-1855 (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1959).
74. Andreas Kappeler, Rossiia-Mnogonatsionalnaia Imperiia: Vozniknovenie, Istoriia,
Raspad, trans, from German by Svetlana Chervonnaia (Moskva: Progress-Traditiia, 1997),
122, 185.
75. Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer, "Strategies of Ethnic Survival: Interaction of Russians
and Khanty (Ostiak) in Twentieth-Century Siberia" (Ph.D. diss., Bryn Mawr College, 1978),
431 ; Kappeler, Rossiia-Mnogonatsionalnaia Imperiia, 125; for more about this reform, see
Marc Raeff, Siberia and the Reforms of 1822 (Seattle: University of Washington Press,
1956).
76. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 1st. sen, vol. 28, no. 29126, 286-291;
"Visochaishe Utverzhdennii 22 Iiulia 1822 Goda Ustav ob Upravlenii Inorodtsev," in
86
Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii, 167. For more about the connection between
the Speransky reform and the new approach to missionary work see A. P. Borodavkin and
N. Y. Khrapova, "M. M. Speransky i Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia," in Kultumoe Nasledie
Sibiri, d. T. M. Stepanskaia (Barnaul: Altaiskii Gosudarstvennii Universitet, 1994), 2431.
77. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, 2nd ser., vol. 19, no. 18290, 271,
272, 274; To Siberia and Russian America: Three Centuries of Russian Eastward Expansion, Russian American Colonies, J 789-J867, A Documentary Record, ed. and trans, by
Basil Dmytrishyn, E.A.P. Crownhart-Vaughan and Thomas Vaughan (Portland: Oregon Historical Society Press, 1989), vol. 3, 472; "Visochaishe Utverzhdennii 10 Okriabria 1844
Goda Ustav Rossiisko-Amerikanskoi Kompanii," in Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi
Rossii, 220.
78. Paul W. Werth, "Baptism, Authority,and the Problem of Zakonnost' in Orenburg
Diocese: The Induction of over 800 'Pagans' into the Christian Faith," Slavic Review 56, no.
3 (1997): 458, 475, 479.
79. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 1st. ser., vol. 28, no. 29126, 290;
"Visochaishe Utverzhdennii 22 Iiulia 1822 Goda Ustav ob Upravlenii Inorodtsev," 167.
80. Makarii Glukharev, Mysly o Sposobakh k Uspeshneishemu Rasprostraneniiju
Khristianskoi Very Mezhdu Evreiamy, Magometanamy, i Yazychnickami v Rossiiskoi Derzhave
(Moskva: Tip. Snegiryova, 1894); Innokentii (Ivan Veniaminov), Tvorenia Innokentiia
Mitropolita Moskovskago, ed. Ivan Barsukov (Moskva: Sinodalnaia Tip., 1886), vol. 1,
257. Veniaminov used his guidelines, which were formally adopted by the Holy Synod in
1841, to tailor insructions to individual missionaries in both Siberia and Alaska. See, for
instance, "Nastavlenie Ieromonakhu Nikolaiu, Naznachaemomu dlia Obrashcheniia
Inovertsev i (Otchasti) Rukovodstva Novoobrashchennikh v Khristianskuiu Veru, v
Rossiisko-Amerikanskikh Vladeniakh, v Kenaiskom Zalive i Prilegaiushchikh k Nemu
Mestakh," Clergy Dossier, Nikolai Militov, ARCA, roll 20. See also Veniaminov's instructions to the Nushagak missionary Hiermonk Theophilus: "Nastavlenie
Visokopreosviashchennago Innokentiia, Bivshago Arkhiepiskopa Kamchatskago, Kurilskago
i Aleutskago Nushagakskomu Missioneru Feofilu," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger^, no. 20 (1899): 534-543; 3, no. 21 (1899): 564-574. Excerpts from the latter document
were published in Barbara S. Smith, Orthodoxy and Native Americans: The Alaskan Mission (Syosset, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1980), 28-30. For philosophical sources
of Veniamonov's ideas, see Sergei Kan, "Recording Native Cultures and Christianizing the
Natives: Russian Orthodox Missionaries in South-Eastern Alaska," in Russia in North
America, ed. Richard P. Pierce (Kingston, Ontario: The Limestone Press, 1990), 298-313;
Viacheslav V. Ivanov, The Russian Orthodox Church of Alaska and the Aleutian Islands
and its Relation to Native American Traditions: An Attempt at a Multicultural Society,
1794-192 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1997), 30. About Glukharev's
ideas, see A. P. Borodavkin and N. Y. Khrapova, "K Voprosu o Kulturno-Prosvetitelskoi
Deiatelnosti Arkhimandrita Makariia (M.Ia. Glukhareva)-Ideologa i Osnovatelia Altaiskoi
Dukhovnoi Missii," in Altaiskii Sbornik, ed. V. A. Skubnevskii, A. V. Dobrikova, A. D.
Sergeev (Barnaul: Altaiskoe Otdelenie Vserosiiskogo Fonda Kulturi, 1992), 14-21.
81. Administratively, from 1821 to 1840 the Alaska mission developed as part of the
large Siberian See with a center in the Irkutsk city in western Siberia. Arkhangelov, Nashi
Zagranichnyia Missii, 169.
82. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 2nd ser., vol. 1, no. 409; vol. 7, no.
5847. See more about these benefits: O Slozhenii Iasaka s Inorodtsev Vstupaiushchikh v
Khristianskuiu Veru: Matriau Pervogo Sibirskogo Komiteta, November 15-December 29,
87
1832. RGIA, f. 1264, op. 1, 1832, ed. khr. 289,1.1-8. As a matter of fact, a special Senate
decree that granted three-year tax benefits to new native converts was adopted as early as
1720. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 1 st. ser., vol. 6, no. 3637, but in reality
the stipulations of this law were mostly disregarded.
83. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 2nd ser., vol. 12, no. 10135.
84. Ibid., vol. 36, no. 37709.
85. Dogurevich, SvietAzii, 164.
86. Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago, 1828-1878, ed. Ivan
Barsukov (St. Petersburg: Sunodalnaia Tipografiia, 1901), vol. 3, 295; Talberg, Istoriia
Russkoi Tserkvi, 11 A; Smirnoff, Short Account of the Historical Development and Present
Position of Russian Orthodox Missions, 26; Paul D. Garrett, St. Innocent, Apostle to America
(Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1979), 305. See the by-laws of this society: Novoe Missionerskoe Obshchestvo v Rossii: Ustav Missionerskago Obshchestva (St.
Petersburg: Tip. Doma Prizreniia Maloletnikh Bednikh, 1865); Ustav Pravoslavnago
Missionerskago Obshchestva (St. Petersburg: Pravoslvnoe Missionerskoe Obshchestvo,
1869); "Ustav Pravoslavnago Missionerskago Obshchestva," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik,
no. 1 (1893): 12-20.
87. Russkoe Pravoslavie, Vekhi Istorii, ed. Aleksandr I. Klibanov (Moskva: Izd-vo Polit.
Lit-ry, 1989), 439; N. Komarov, "Po Povodu Otcheta Pravoslavnago Missionerskago
Obshchestva za 1892 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 18 (1893): 9-10; "O Priniatii
Pod Pokrovitelstvo Pravoslavnago Missionerskago Obshchestva Amerikanskoi Missii,"
Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 5 (1900): 287-288.
88. Archimandrite Dionisii, "Sovremennoe Sostoianie, Zadachi i Nuzhdy Pravoslavnago
Inorodcheskago Missionerstva v Sibiri," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 15 (1904): 292.
89. Smirnoff, Short Account of the Historical Development and Present Position of Russian Orthodox Missions, 62.
90. "Izvestiia i Zametki," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 2, no. 21 ( 1898): 622.
92. See, for instance, the school record of the Alaska and Chukchi missionary Amphilokhy,
who graduated from the institute in 1901 : "Diploma," Clergy Dossier, Amphilokhy (Anton
Vakulsky),/U?C4,roll31.
93. Dionisii, "Sovremennoe Sostoianie, Zadachi i Nuzhdy Pravoslavnago Inorodcheskago
Missionerstva v Sibiri," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 15 (1904): 293; idem, Idealy
Pravoslavno-Russkago Inorodcheskago Missionerstva, 98; Smirnoff, Short Account of the
Historical Development and Present Position of Russian Orthodox Missions, 53, 27. For
more on the work of the Missionary Institute see "O Missionerskih Kursakh Pri Kazanskoi
Dukhovnoi Akademii " RGIA, f. 796, op. 179, 1898, ed. khr. 701,1. 1-103; "O Sostoianii
Kazanskih Missionerskikh Kursov za 1900-1901 G.G.," RGIA, f. 796, op. 183, 1902, ed.
krh. 367,1. 1-16.
94. Stefan Landyshev, Sviedieniia obAltaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet: sAvgusta
1856poAvgust 1862 Goda (Moskva: Tipografiia V. Gote, 1863), 34.
95. Nestor, Iz Zhizni Kamchatskago Missionera i Zapiski iz Dnevnika, 15, 17. At the turn
of the present century, Siberian missionaries received a monthly salary of 40 rubles 83
kopeks and 100 rubles for travel expences. Ibid., 14. Eroshov and Kimeev provide similar
information. They write that a missionary received an annual salary of 582 roubles, and
songleaders had 196 roubles. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 26.
96. Smith, Orthodoxy and Native Americans, 18; Shalkop, "Russian Orthodox Church in
Alaska," 200.
97. Shalkop, "Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska," 201.
88
98. Stokoe, Orthodox Christians in North America, 15. In 1888, in San Franscisco the
Russian church established a school that prepared future missionaries and low-level native
clergy for Alaska. In April 1889 the school numbered twenty-six Russian-American, Creole, Aleut, and American Indian students. Arkhngelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 186.
99. Ivan Veniaminov, "Sostoyanie Pravoslavnoi Tserkvi v Rossiiskoi Amerike," 239.
100. To Siberia and Russian America, 430; Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil,
2nd ser, vol. 42, no. 43287.
101. Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago, 1828-1878, ed. Ivan
Barsukov (St. Petersburg: Synodalnaia Tipografiia, 1897), vol. 1, 383.
102. Archbishop of Warsaw Nikolai, Iz Moego Dnevnika: Putevyia Zamietki i
Vpechatlieniia po Aliaski i Aleutskim Ostrovam (St. Petersburg: Synodalnaia Tip., 1893),
41.
103. Oleksa, Orthodox Alaska, 142.
104. Ibid., 140.
105. Ibid., 152-153.
106. Fedotov, Russian Religious Mind, 237.
107. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, 2nd ser., vol. 16, no. 14409, 99100.
108. Vera Shevzov, "Chapels and the Ecclesial World of Prerevolutionary Russian Peasants," Slavic Review 55, no. 3 (1997): 607, 588, 609, 612.
109. Smirnoff, Short Account of the Historical Development and Present Position of
Russian Orthodox Missions, 30, 39.
110. N. I. Zelenin, Ilminskii i Prosveshchenie Inorodtsev (St. Petersburg: Tip. I. N.
Skorokhodova, 1902), 4; Petr V. Znamenski, Na Pamiat' o Nikolae lvanoviche Ilminskom
(Kazan: Bratstvo Sviatogo Guria, 1892). See also specific studies of the Ilminskii System:
Isabelle Kreindler, "Educational Policies toward the Eastern Nationalities in Tsarist Russia:
a Study of Ilminskii's System" (Ph.D. diss., Columbia University, 1969); S. J. Blank, "National Education, Church and State in Tsarist Nationality Policy: The Il'minskii System,"
Canadian-American Slavic Studies 17, no. 4 (1983): 466-486.
111. Zelenin, Ilminskii i Prosveshchenie Inorodtsev, 13.
112. Pipes, Russia under the Old Regime, 223-224.
Russian Orthodox Missions, 27.
114. Ibid., 48.
115. Slezkine, "Savage Christians or Unorthodox Russians? Missionary Dilemma in Siberia," 24-25; Glavatskaya, "Christianization=Russification?" 383.
116. Veniamin, Zhiznennie Voprosi Pravoslavnoi Missii v Sibiri (St. Petersburg: Tip. A.
M. Kotomina, 1885), 14.
117. Ibid., 7-8.
118. Ibid., 12,20.
119. O Khristianskom Prosvieshchenii Inorodtsev: Perepiska Arkhiepiskopa Veniamina
Irkutskago s N. I. Ilminskiim, ed. Konstiantyn V. Kharlampovych (Kazan: Tipo-lit. Imp.
Universiteta, 1904), 8.
120. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii, 37.
121. Quoted after Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago lnorodcheskago Missionerstva,
33.
122. Nestor, Pravoslavie v Sibiri, 63.
123. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii> 4; Komarov, "Po Povodu Otcheta Pravoslavnago
Missionerskago Obshchestva za 1892 God," 7.
89
. 124. Bishop of Alaska Filipp, Pogibaiushchaia Missiia (Moskva: Tip. Russkaia Pechatnaia,
1918), 14-15.
125. Ibid., 4-5.
126. Ibid., 5.
127. Nestor, Pravoslavie v Sibiri, 57, 71, 80.
128. Idem, Iz Zhizni Kamchatskago Missionem i Zapiski iz Dnevnika, 19.
129. Idem,'Mow Kamchatka: Zapiski Pravoslavnogo Missionera, 195.
130. Idem, Pravoslavie v Sibiri, 56.
131. David Collins, "Culture, Christianity and the Northern Peoples of Canada and Siberia,'1 Religion, State & Society 25, no. 4(1997): 384; Glavatskaya,"Christianization=Russification?"383.
132. 'To Otnosheniu Ober-Prokurora Sviateishago Sinoda o Merakh k Uspeshnomu
Rasprostraneniu Khristianstva Mezhdu Sibirskimi Inorodtsami," RGIA, f. 381, op. 22,1887,
ed. khr. 15589,1.2-3.
133. Ibid., 1. 11.
134.1. Aleksii, Irkutskii Missionerskii Siezd (24 Iiulia-5 Avgusta 1910 Goda): Dnevnik
UchastnikaSiezda (Tomsk: Tip. Priiuta i Doma Trudoliubiia, 1910), 32. See also materials
of similar debates during the Samara Congress of Native Educators: Zelenin, Ilminskii i
Prosveshchenie Inorodtsev, 18.
135. Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago lnorodcheskago Missionerstva, 34-35.
136. Aleksii, Irkutskii Missionerskii Siezd, 40.
137. Ibid., 32.
138. Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago lnorodcheskago Missionerstva, 53.
139. Ibid., 36.
140. Ibid., 8, 13.
141. V. V. Eroshov, "Iz Istorii Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," in Shorskii Sbornik, no. 1
(1994): 227; Stokoe, Orthodox Christians in North America, 8.
142. Igumen Nikolai (Militov), Vipiska iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena
Nikolaia s 1858po 1862 God (Moskva: no publisher, 1863), 15; idem, "Opisanie Kenaiskago
Okruga," Vinokouroff Collection, Alaska Historical Library, Juneau, AK, MS 81, Box 23,
Folder 36.
143. See the dictionary of the Altaian language prepared by Verbitskii: V. I. Verbitskii,
Slovar Altaiskago i Aladagskago Narechii Tiurkskago lazika (Kazan: Izd. Pravoslavnago
Missionerskago Obshchestva, 1884). On Verbitskii's contribution to anthropology, see O.
A. Derevianko, "Traditsionnaia Kultura Severnykh Altaitsev v Issledovaniiakh V.l.
Verbistkogo," Vestnik Leningradskogo Universiteta, Seriia Istorii, lazika, Literatury, no. 4
(1982): 102-105.
144. Nikita Marchenkov, "Iz Putevikh Zapisok Kenaiskago Missionera Iermonakha Nikiti
za 1881 G./'Travel Journal, Nikita Marchenkov, 1881-1885, ARCA, roll 201; Townsend,
"Journals of Nineteenth-Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina," Arctic Anthropology 11,
no. 1 (1974): 10, 7. Kan also notes that those clerics who received religious training in less
elitist Orthodox institutions were more lenient toward native traditions. Kan, "Recording
Native Cultures and Christianizing the Natives," 306.
145. Interestingly, Ann Fienup-Riordan noted the use of similar metaphors by Moravian
missionaries among the Yup'ik in southwestern Alaska. Ann Fienup-Riordan, "Metaphors
of Conversion, Metaphors of Change," Arctic Anthropology 34, no. 1 (1997): 107-108.
146. Linda J. Ellanna and Andrew Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana: The People ofNondalton
(Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 299.
147. Pipes, Russia under the Old Regime, 221.
90

Inorodcheskago Missionerstva v Sibiri," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 17 (1904): 4;
Evgenii Popov, Ob Userdii k Missionerskamu Delu (Perm: Tip. Popovoi, 1874), 125.
149. Fedotov, Russian Religious Mind, 236.
150. Richard L. Dauenhauer, "Two Missions to Alaska," The Pacific Historian 26, no. 1
(1982): 34.
151. Popov, Ob Userdii k Missionerskamu Delu, 136.
152. Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago, 1828-1878, vol. 1,
104-105; Garrett, St. Innocent, 184; Ivan Veniaminov, Notes on the Islands of the Unalashka
District, trans. L. T. Black and R. H. Geoghegan (Kingston, Ontario: The Limestone Press,
1984), 322-323.
153. Dmitri Khitrov, "Opisanie Zhiganskogo Uezda," Zapiski Sibirskago Otdiela
Imperatorskago Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva, no. 1 (1856): 84.
154. Verbitskii, Altaiskie Inorodtsy, 79-80.
155. Quoted after Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago, vol.1,
195.
156. Nikolai Mitropolsky to Bishop Nikolai, "Pochtitelneishii Raport,"
September 7, 1892, Reports/Records, Nikolai Mitropolsky, 1888-1892, ARCA, roll 201;
Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 199.
157. Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 199.
158. Sergei Kan, "Clan Mothers and Grandmothers: Tlingit Women and Russian Orthodox Christianity, 1840-1940," Ethnohistory 43, no. 4 (1996): 618.
159. Anonymous, "Pravoslavnaia Missiia v Aliaske (Severnoi Amerike) v 1902 G.," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 1, no. 3 (1903): 35.
160. Kan, "Recording Native Cultures and Christianizing the Natives," 303.
161. Makarii Glukharev, "Izvlecheniia iz Putevikh Zapisok Missionera Arkhimandrita
Makaria Glukhareva," in Pamiatnik Trudov Pravoslavnykh Blagoviestnikov Russkikh s 1793
do 1853 Goda, 166-167; "Altaiskaia Dikhovnaia Missiia," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1,
no. 8 (1900): 337.
162. Vasilli Verbitskii, "Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera Kuznetskago Okruga, Proteireia
Vasilia Verbitskago za 1876 God," Missioner, no. 22 (1877): 176.
163. Nechto v Posobie Nashim Sibirskim Missioneram (Moskva: Tip. A. I. Snegirevoi,
1895), 24.
164. Vladimir Fialkin, Put'k Prosveshcheniu Iazichnikov (Orel: Tip. Khalizeva, 1904),
14-15.
165. "Iz Zhizni Altaiskoi Missii," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 10 (1900): 75.
166. Sbornik Sviedenii o Pravoslavnikh Missiakh i Deitelnosti Pravoslavnago
Missionerskago Obshchestva (Moskva: V. Got'e, 1872), vol. 2, 267.
167. N. E-skii (Elonskii), "Nashi Missionen na Severe Sibiri," Pravoslavniy Blagoviestnik,
no. 13 (1891): 9.
168. Nestor, Moia Kamchatka: Zapiski Pravoslavnogo Missionera, 105.
169. "Po Vipiske Sinodalnago Opredelenia o Meropriatiakh dlia Uluchshenia
Missionerskago Del v Sibiri, July 17, 1910-February 11,1911," RGIA, f. 797, op. 80 II
otd. 3 St., 1911, ed. khr. 330,1.2.
170. Ibid.
172. Popov, Ob Userdii k Missionerskamu Delu,\23.
174. Dionisii, Idealy Pravoslavno-Russkago Inorodcheskago Missionerstva, 30-31.
91
175. Veniaminov, Tvoreniia Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago, vol. 2, 488.

176. Hiermonk Niki ta to the Alaska Ecclesiastical Consistory, May 1885, Travel Journal,
Nikita Marchenkov, 1881-1885, ARCA, roll 201.
177. Anonymous, "Pridi i Pomogi (O Missionerskom Dele)," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 7, no. 2 (1903): 21.
178. S. Postnikov, "Iz Zapisok Missionera, " Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 22 (1893):
41.
180. Idem, Iz Zhizni Kamchatskago Missionera i Zapiski iz Dnevnika, 5.
181. Ibid., 8.
182.1. P., "Na Poroge Zhizni: Aliaskinskii Etiud," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 13, no. 23 (1911): 390-391.
183. Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1907 God (Tomsk: Tip. Mikhailova i
Makushina, 1908), 51.
184. Khsrlampov ich, A rkhimandrit Makarii Glukharev, 32, 28-29.
185. Hiermonk Irinarkh, "Eshche Dva Slova ob Uluchshenii Missionerstva na Dalnem
Severe," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 19 (1903): 125-126.
Russian Orthodox Missions, 66.
187. Verbitskii, "Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera Kuznetskago Okruga, Proteireia Vasilia
Verbitskago za 1876 God," 177.
189. Andrei Argentov, "Nizhne Kolymskii Krai," Izviestiia Imperatorskago Russkago
Geograficheskago Obshchestva 15, no. 6 (1879): 438, 450.
190. Ibid., 451, 438-439, 444.
191. Anonymous, "Kamlanie na Altae," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 14 (1904):
276.
192. Trofm Sokolovski, ''Zapiski Missionera Altaiskoi Missii," Missioner, no. 5 (1876):
40.
193. Nechto v Posobie Nashim Sibirskim Missioneram, 9.
194. Sergei Ivanovski, "Iz Zapisok Missionera Kabezenskago Otdelenia, Altaiskoi Missii,
Sviashchennika Sergeia Ivanovskago za 1892 God," in Altaiskaia i Kirgizskaia Missii Tomskoi
Eparkhii v 1892 (Biisk: Tipo-Litografiia I. D. Rebrova, 1893), Appendix III, 7.
196. Ibid., 11.
197. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898 (Tomsk: Tip. Eparkhialnago Bratstva,
1899), 14.
199. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898, 14.
201. Sergei Ivanovskii, "Zapiski Missionera Kebezenskago Otdeleniia, Altaiskoi
Dukhovnoi Missii, Sviashchennika Sergia Ivanovskago za 1888," in Otchet ob Altaiskoi i
Kirgizskoi Missii Tomskoi Eparkhii za 1888 (Tomsk: Tipo-Litografiia Mikhailova i
Makushina, 1889), 11.
202. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu (Tomsk: Tipo-Litografiia
Mikhailova i Makushina, 1886), 35.
203. Petr Benediktov, "Iz Zapisok Missionera Chemalskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Missii,
Sviashchennika Petra Benediktova za 1892 God " in Altaiskaia i Kirgizskaia Missii Tomskoi
Eparkhii v 1892, 6-7.
92
Shamanism and Christianity '
204. Sergei Ivanovskii, "Iz Zapisok Missionera Kabezenskago Otdelenia, Altaiskoi Missii,
Sviashchennika Sergeia Ivanovskago za 1892 God," 1.
205. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885, 36-37.
206. Alexander Gusev, "Zhurnal Missionerskih Deistvii po Makarievskomu Otdeleniu
Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," December 31, 1861, RGIA, f. 796, op. 440, 1859-1861, ed.
khr. 1256-1257,1.5.
207. Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii 1888, 21.
209. Ibid., 21.
210. Marchenkov, "Iz Putevikh Zapisok Kenaiskago Missionera Iermonakha Nikiti za
1881 G."
211. Ibid.
212. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898 Godu (Tomsk: Tip. Eparkhialnago Bratstva,
1899), 39.
213. Marchenkov, "Iz Putevikh Zapisok Kenaiskago Missionera Iermonakha Nikiti za
1881 G."
215. Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago, vol. 1, 104; Ivan
Veniaminov, "Nastavlenie Ieromonakhu Nikolaiu,"
216. Slezkine, Arctic Mirrors, 388-389.
217. Argentov, "Nizhne Kolymskii Krai," 433, 443; "Iakutskaia Pravoslavnaia Missiia v
1873 Godu," Missioner, no. 23 (1874): 179.
Sviashchennika Petra Benediktova za 1892 God," 4.
219. Popov, Ob Userdii k Missionerskamu Delu, 131.
220. Igumen Nikolai (Militov), Vipiska iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena
Nikolaia s 1858 po 1862 God., 19; Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth-Century Russian
Priests to the Tanaina," 9.
221. Igumen Nikolai (Militov), "Iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena Nikolaia
za 1862 God," in Russkaia Amerika: Po Lichnym Vpechatleniam
Messionerov,
Zemleprokhodtsev, Moriakov, Issledovatelei iDrugikh Ochevidtsev, ed. A. D. Dridzo and R.
V. Kinzhalov (Moskva: Mysl, 1994), 231.
222. Nikolai Mitropolsky, "V Aliaskinskoe Dukhovnoe Pravlenie Raport," March 1889,
Reports/Records, Nikolai Mitropolsky, 1888-1892, ARCA, roll 201.
223. Hiermonk Anatolii to Ioann Bortnovsky, June 29, 1896, Buildings-Property, Repairs, New Assumption Church, School, 1882-1909, ARCA, roll 181.
224. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi 1885, 31.
225. Nestor, Iz Zhizni Kamchatskago Missionera i Zapiski iz Dnevnika, 20, 46-47, 11.
226. Idem, Moia Kamchatka: Zapiski Pravoslavnogo Missionera, 76, 78, 235; Popov,
Ob Userdii k Missionerskamu Delu, 145; "Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia v 1902 Godu,"
227. Veniaminov, Tvoreniia Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago, vol. 1, 243.
229. Archimandrite Vladimir, "Vipiski iz Dnevnika Altaiskago Missionera," Zapiski
Missionerskago Obshestva, no. 4 (1868): 307.
230. "Otchet o Sostoianii Iakutskoi Eparkhii za 1915 God," RGIA, f. 796 op. 442, 1916,
ed. khr. 2745,1. 171.
232. Ibid., 198.
93
233. Nestor, hZhizni Kamchatskago Missionera i Zapiski iz Dnevnika, 20-21; Filipp,

Pogibaiushchaia Missiia, 14-15.
234. T. A. Bernstam, "Russian Folk Culture and Folk Religion," in Russian Traditional
Culture: Religion, Gender, and Customary Law, ed. Marjorie Mandelstam Balzer (Armonk,
NY and London: M. E. Sharpe, 1992), 37.

235. Theodore R. Weeks, Nation and the State in Late Imperial Russia (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1996), 12; Kappeler, Rossiia-Mnogonatsionalnaia Imperiia,
182,203-204.
%, I
Tyonek
Kustatan
Lake Clark
GULF OF ALASKA
?,
Kodiak
Island
PACIFIC OCEAN
Map 3.1 Native peoples of southern Alaska
Orthodoxy Becomes a Native Faith:

Dena'ina Encounters with Russian
Missionaries, 1849-1917
This is our only church here. And you are going to find that even young kids here say,
"I am a Russian Orthodox Christian." Everybody knows that Orthodox are here. Even
if they might not go to church, they are Russian Orthodox Christians. It has been our
church for many many years. And that is how we all talk.
Karen Standifer, Dena'ina from the Tyonek village (1998)
A Dena'ina elder, Maxim Chickalusion, Sr., related that during the 1895-1896
winter natives from the Kustatan village tried all means in order to get rid of a
rampaging bear, but failed. Finally, their chief and his brother went into a Russian
Orthodox church, armed with the Bible, a cross, and rifle shells.
They cut holes in the shells. They put what we call holy smoke from incense in the shells.
Three shells to baptize and sprinkled holy water on it. They took the Bible and the cross and
went to that building where the bear was. They went around the buildings with the cross and
Bible. They shot the bear with the shell that had been baptized and had holy water on it.1
In addition to the "Orthodox connection," the Kustatan Bear story also contains an
indigenous element. In reality, according to the legend, the bear was a shaman
from the Lake Clark Dena'ina village, whose residents decided to take revenge on
the Kustatan people because of some stolen property. When the bear was killed
with the help of "holy shells," a Kustatan shaman woman performed a special
ritual with snow, tobacco, the bear skin, and fire to chase away the alien "bear
shaman" from the village. In conclusion, the elder who told the story uttered a
noteworthy remark, "If it weren't for her power and the cross and the Bible, that
bear might have cleaned out both Kustatan villages."2 According to Jim Kari, the
Dena'ina regard the story as one of the major episodes of their modern history.
This specific story offers a visible illustration of how the Dena'ina used Russian
Christianity for their own purposes.
96
In the documents left by Russian missionaries we find indirect evidence of the

indigenization of the Russian Orthodox religion by this native group. At the turn
of the century one Russian missionary optimistically claimed, "The Kenaitze [the
Russian name for the Dena'ina] should be credited with strong Orthodox beliefs
and no temptations will force them to change their affiliation." However, another
priest, who visited them during an inspection trip around the same time, observed,
"The closer I came to knowing the Kenaitze, the less Christianity and Orthodoxy I
found among them."3 The truth was that the Dena'ina, who embraced Orthodoxy,
creatively adjusted Orthodox beliefs for their own needs and even adopted Russian church brotherhoods as part of their social and political structures.
There are no specific works on Dena'ina relationships with the Orthodox church,
although a few general ethnographies on this Native American group do address
this topic. Joan Townsend in her work on Dena'ina of the Uiamna Lake was the
first scholar who used several available translations of Russian missionaries' reports. In a comprehensive study of the Alaskan Athapaskans, another anthropologist, Dzeniskevich, used a few documents from Russian archives that contain information on Dena'ina Orthodoxy. There is also a theological essay by Sister
Victoria Schnurer, who provides a general historical sketch of the Orthodox activities in the Kenai area. Yet, her work is seriously hindered by uncritical use of
missionary sources. The most recent anthropological research by Linda Ellana
and Andrew Balluta does make an attempt to explore the role Russian Christianity
played for Dena'ina ethnicity. These authors also draw an important conclusion,
which I share, that in some respects Orthodoxy came to be identified with Dena'ina
culture and as such it is no longer associated with an alien culture.4 This chapter
significantly expands this argument and provides additional materials to illustrate
under what circumstances and how Russian Christianity became an indigenous
Dena'ina religion.
DENA'INA SOCIETY AND RUSSIAN/AMERICAN CHALLENGES

In the wake of Vitus Bering's discovery of Alaska and its abundant fur resources,
the first Russians who reached the coastal Dena'ina, the promishlenniki (fur trappers), pursued the procurement of furs by hunting, trading, or engaging in direct
extortion. The colonization of Dena'ina country in the 1790s strongly resembled
that of Kamchatka, the land of the Koryak in easternmost Siberia. Here the same
patterns of Russian-native contacts were tinged initially with violence and hostility.5 Rival promishlenniki groups fought each other and also attacked the natives.
Fur traders seized native furs and women, took hostages to guarantee their loyalty,
and forced them into indentured servitude. In 1787 one of such bands of thirtyeight promishlenniki, headed by Petr Kolomin, invaded Cook Inlet, the southern
outlet of the Dena'ina territory. After heavy fighting, the newcomers forced the
Dena'ina and local Alutiiq groups to provide four hundred hostages as a guarantee
of peace.6 Furthermore, in the 1790s the Russians made a few somewhat unsuc-
Orthodoxy Becomes a Native Faith
97
cessful attempts to penetrate the inland areas by setting up two additional trading
posts, one at Lake Iliamna and the other at Bristol Bay. This inland area was an
important source of beaver furs for the Russians both at the end of the eighteenth
and at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Yet, harassment of the natives by
the fur traders provoked Dena'ina to revolt. Thus, the Iliamna post staffed by fifteen Russians and Siberian natives (the Itelmens) was destroyed about 1800.7
The Siberian governor general informed the authorities in St. Petersburg that in
1788-1789 the "Kenai natives" revolted as a result of constant Russian harassment. He also reported that the Indians killed ten fur traders from the Shelikhov
company and four from the rival Lebedev-Lastochkin company.8 The nineteenthcentury historian of the Russian-American Company (RAC), Petr Tikhmenev,
stressed, "The dissentions among the Russians and persecutions of the natives
reached such an extreme that the infuriated Kenais destroyed the two outposts at
Iliamna and Tuiunuk [Tyonek], killing 20 Russians, and almost one hundred subject natives."9 Thus, in 1798, the Dena'ina besieged St. Nicholas Fort, founded
near present-day Kenai by a group of promishlenniki. According to Tikhmenev,
the "Kenaitze" also attempted an attack on a trade outpost on Kodiak Island.10
Despite such hostilities it is wrong to depict Russian-Dena'ina relations as a state
of total war. Rather, by 1800 Dena'ina country represented a common frontier
with a kaleidoscope of interactions, which involved trade, peace, and occasional
military conflicts. The Russians and the Siberian Creoles traded with the Dena'ina
for sea otters, beaver pelts, river otters, and martens. The newcomers also married
into Dena'ina society and remained with their native wives after the fur animal
population diminished in the Kenai area. ' '
Formally, the Dena'ina were declared subjects of the czar and were at first obliged
to pay tribute as Siberian natives did. Yet, after 1799, when the RAC received full
monopolistic control over Russian America, the status of the Dena'ina changed in
comparison to that of indigenous Siberians. At first, the RAC stopped taking hostages and collecting tribute. Rivalry among competing groups of Russian fur traders and violence toward Alaskan indigenous peoples decreased as well. Although
the first chief administrator of Russian America, Alexander Baranov, reported for
1800 that in Kenai the natives were still "in a state of unrest and full of the spirit of
barbarism,"12 after this time major clashes between the Dena'ina and Russians
stopped. Interestingly, indigenous oral histories more often mention conflicts with
neighboring Yupik and Alutiiq groups than wars with the Russians. It suggests
that, despite earlier hostilities, the newcomers were more interested in establishing
trade relations with the Indians than in fighting them.13 Natives provided furs either as independent hunters connected to Russian trading posts through credit obligations or as RAC salaried trappers. Although those in coastal areas already worked
for the company on a regular basis, the Dena'ina primarily belonged to the category of semi-independent hunters.
There is little information about Dena'ina-Russian relations in the first two decades of the nineteenth century. It is also important that from 1821 the RAC charter required that its employees receive formal permission from local natives to
98
establish trading posts, which helped stabilize relationships between newcomers

and indigenous peoples.14 In the coastal areas of Cook Inlet, especially after the
1844 smallpox epidemics, the RAC also attempted to establish a few agricultural
Creole (Russian-Aleut and Russian Alutiiq) settlements in Ninilchik, Kachemak
Bay, Kasilov, Kenai, Knik, Matanuska, and Rossiiskoe Selenie (Tyonek). With the
exception of the village of Ninilchik and of Kenai, all of these attempts failed.15 In
Kenai, the administrative area of Cook Inlet, the Russians planted gardens and
also founded a small brickyard that employed local natives as part-time workers.16
Formally, according to the renewed RAC charter of 1844 "Kenaitze" were singled
out into a category of settled natives, who were subjected to the Russian jurisdiction, along with the Aleuts and Alutiiq.17 Yet, this categorization was largely a
wishful thinking. In reality, RAC administrative and political control never extended beyond Lower Cook Inlet. Therefore, Russian influence was weak in inland Dena'ina country, and the company had to treat this whole native group as
only partially dependent people. As a result, the RAC leadership described the
Dena'ina as "semi-dependent" people, who stood somewhere between the fully
dependent Aleut/Alutiiq and the independent Tlingit and the Athapaskans of interior Alaska. Moreover, Boris Okun, a historian of RAC, goes further, claiming that
"the semi-independent Kenais were not dependent on the Company in any way."
He indicates that the Dena'ina's degree of sovereignty was much greater and that
RAC actually defined the Dena'ina as "semi-independent" only for self-serving
purposes.18
Such a different interpretation of the Indians' status goes back to the distinct
types of Dena'ina-Russian relationships in the coastal and inland regions. Coastal
people, especially in Kenai, were more closely connected with the Russians, lived
a more settled life, and became directly influenced by administrative and missionary control than did their inland fellow tribesmen, who only experienced episodic
contacts with the newcomers, freely traded with them, and never paid tribute.
Throughout the first half of the nineteenth century inland Dena'ina (Figure 3.1)
further advanced their independent position by becoming cultural and trade middlemen between the Russians and interior Athapaskan groups.19 Similar conditions
continued in the 1870s-1880s, after Alaska became an American territory.
Though a majority of the Dena'ina maintained basic hunting and fishing economies and social patterns, it cannot be said that they remained untouched by Russian contact. As early as the 1830s, after the first known wave of epidemic diseases
hit the area, the remaining Dena'ina settled around stores, chapels, and schools.20
Also, with the intensification of the fur trade in the nineteenth century, even those
in the coastal areas left the permanent villages taking entire families in search of
"soft gold." Because of the depleted fur supply, the search for new trade routes in
inland Alaska became a priority under Baron Ferdinand P. Wrangell's administration (1830-1835). The Russians in Cook Inlet pressed the Dena'ina to journey
across the mountains in search of furs.21 At the end of the nineteenth century the
residents of only one Dena'ina village, Seldovia, still lived a relatively sedentary
life, but all other communities regularly endured long hunting and fishing trips a
Figure 3.1. Den'ina Indians of the Upper Cook Inlet, 1890. Photograph courtesy of the Wetherley Collection, Alaska, and Polar
Regions Archives, Rasmuson Library, University of Alaska Fairbanks (866-3 IN).
100
few miles from their villages or even journeyed into the interior territories of another Athapaskan tribe, the Athna. For example, Knik, a typical Dena'ina village,
by 1893 had only three permanent residential houses and one trading post. The
greater part of the population normally was scattered around, two, three, six, and
more miles from the village. In the 1880s, in another village, Tyonek, people stayed
only about four months in a year at home. The rest of the time they spent in forest
hunting and fishing.22 A Russian missionary to the Dena'ina, Ioann Bortnovsky
(Figure 3.2), noted that only in May and August did the Indians remain in their
permanent settlements; all other months "residents of all Kenai villages primarily
live as nomads, especially in the northern part of the parish."23
It is not known whether the Dena'ina food supply remained stable, but no evidence shows that the Indians became overly dependent on Russian staple foods.
Ellanna and Balluta contend that, despite the decreasing of the caribou and beaver
populations in the inland country, the Indians controlled the nature and frequency
of contacts with the Russians and maintained their annual hunting and fishing
cycles. It is correct to define Russian-Dena'ina relationships as a dialogue of mutually interested equals. Indian dependency on the Russian traders existed but concerned "the staples of social status rather than the staples of life."24 In the course
of the trade relations, qeshqa, the traditional Dena'ina leadership, significantly
increased in their influence and prestige. A variety of European merchandise was
included in the system of regular potlatch redistribution, a tradition practiced to
support qeshqa's power among the kinfolk. Additionally, qeshqa acted as middlemen between Russian (later American) and northern Athapaskan traders. Fall points
out that by the second half of the nineteenth century, Dena'ina society had separated into two ranks: qeshqa, rich "strong" people, and olcaq'a, "commoners."25
After the Alaska purchase, a competition among several American fur companies replaced the RAC monopoly. These companies included the Alaska Commercial Company (ACC) and Western Fur and Trading Company (WFTC). By 1883
the ACC had built five trading posts in the Cook Inlet area.26 In order to win native
markets, trade companies paid inflated prices for furs and provided unlimited credit.
As a result, the Indians occupied a favorable position, since the prices constantly
increased. Assessments made in 1881 listed the most favorite items of the trade:
sugar, flour, hard bread, lead, percussion caps, rifles, tobacco, and calico.27 Overall, the time from 1867 to 1895, when natives and newcomers maintained balanced relationships based on trade, proved a stable period for the Dena'ina.28
However, by the end of the century, fur resources in Dena'ina country diminished. In 1899 natives from the Knik village even complained to a Russian missionary that local agents for the Alaska Commercial Company refused them credits and forced them to venture farther north into the mountains searching for the
fur animals practically depleted in the coastal areas. In addition, the situation deteriorated as the construction of three fishing canneries endangered the traditional
fishing resource and caused severe famine among the Dena'ina.29 No less harmful
was the influx of white prospectors and cannery workers, who were responsible
for frequent forest fires and hampered traditional hunting.
101
From 1883 a gradual decline of trade competition began. The WFTC went out
of business and the ACC became the sole fur trade market monopolist. By 1897
the decline of the fur trade and reorientation of the Alaskan economy toward commercial fishery caused fur prices to decrease over 50 percent.30 The ACC decided
to recuperate the total amount of old Indian debts and in 1901 discontinued its
activities in the area. This resulted in a decline of buying power for inland Dena'ina.
Fall and Townsend believe that the price reductions dealt a severe blow to the
entire Dena'ina economy and society.31 Economic subsistence and social structure
created during the fur trade era were undermined. Native leadership, village chiefs,
and qeshqa who accumulated large wealth and supported their prestige through
regular potlatch redistributions lost power; nor could the traditional shamans cope
with this new reality. Eventually, the Dena'ina faced the necessity of adapting to
different circumstances and readjusting their social and political structures in order to persist in the new environment.
After the 1895 discoveries of gold at Bear and Palmer creeks, thousands of
miners flooded the northern Kenai Peninsula. Gold seekers ventured to the Dena'ina
country as early as 1876, and even during the Klondike gold rush mining never
stopped in this area. Prospectors who moved to Kenai in great numbers destroyed
the equilibrium established between the natives and newcomers. The Dena'ina
villages of Tyonek and Knik became major supply and disembarking points for
prospectors. In 1906, 150 Indians and 40 whites lived in the village of Knik. A
decade later, in 1915, the number of Europeans in Knik had increased to 500
people.32 Some of these miners married Indian women and joined Dena'ina society, and even after the boom ended they remained in Indian country working as
trappers and hunters, freighters, and sawmill operators. Ellanna and Balluta stress
that they acted as cultural brokers who introduced to Dena'ina society the values
of middle-class American culture.33 The fact that a greater part of present-day
Dena'ina are descendants of white miners and Indian women demonstrates the
profound influence of mining development on the Dena'ina.34
In 1903, a railroad project cut through the Dena'ina country and reshaped the
traditional economic and ecological landscapes. Many Indians left their villages to
work on the railroad construction to supplement declining hunting and fishing
with wage labor, and gradually they integrated themselves into the market
economy.35 In the 1880s and the 1890s canneries had added to the decline of salmon
runs in Bristol Bay and the Indians could not rely on them anymore. Also, to make
things worse, the caribou population started to decrease as a result of natural environmental causes, and for natives it became "more difficult to harvest these species in adequate numbers," a situation that led to the reliance on the commercial
food sources.36 Bortnovsky, who worked closely with the Dena'ina from 1896 to
1907, pointed to the social and economic conditions in the Seldovia village as the
result of the afore-mentioned changes: "Seldovia people currently face a horrible
economic crisis. There is nothing promising for them in the future, because all
kinds of intruders devastated the country in a literal sense of the word."37
102
Additionally, native populations found themselves in a state of legal limbo, when

their own and Russian social and political structures were undermined, while the
new ones were not yet established by the territorial government. Russian departure and American neglect of this "God forsaken place" left Alaska for several
decades without legitimate governmental representatives and localized law and
order. Residents of the Kenai village characteristically wrote in an 1895 petition to
District Judge Warren Truitt, "We have been deserted by the Russians and are not
accepted by the Americans under the protection of the law."38 From the 1870s to
1890s, law and order remained to a greater extent "an improvisation" of the ACC's
local agents. Moreover, the increasing population of miners and prospectors in the
Dena'ina territory worsened the situation. A good part of Alaskan history at the
turn of the century consisted of an unending chain of complaints made by both
natives and whites about lawlessness and requests for federal intervention.39
Poverty and widespread alcohol consumption followed the rapid transformation
of Dena'ina society. The Indians had learned moonshining from the Russians, and
they also obtained liquor from miners and Chinese cannery workers at the end of
the nineteenth century. Even Christian ceremonies were occasionally accompanied by regular drinking. For example, in Tyonek, natives were accustomed to a
shot of vodka on the day of communion. The missionary Alexander Iaroshevich
(Figure 3.3), who tried to replace this shot of vodka with a cup of tea, had to devote
a greater part of his tenure in 1893-1894 to fighting alcohol abuse among the
Dena'ina. He complained that "vodka is the curse of this people" and also acknowledged that his campaign had little success:
Alcohol abuse is widespread in this village [Seldovia] beyond belief. I used everything
trying to make Seldovians stop drinking vodka, but reached only partial success. I was only
able to convince them to give me a promise to drink vodka with measure. I view this promise only as the beginning, and hope that Our Lord himself will make them aware of the
miserable conditions they found themselves in because of vodka. On the whole, in the
Kenai parish drunkenness reached unbelievable proportions. I made it my goal to erase
from the Kenaitze life this evil that hinders their well being. When they drink, the Kenaitze
know neither measure nor time and because of this, the population of the Kenai parish
decreases from year to year.40
Although Iaroshevich claimed that in 1894 in such Dena'ina villages as Tyonek,
Susitna, Knik, and Kustatan alcohol abuse had completely ended, in 1898
Archimandrite Anatolii still indicated that "the major vice raging in the Kenai
Peninsula is drunkenness."41 The most notorious was Seldovia, which was referred
as a "drunk village." According to Bortnovsky, "Everybody here drinks, not only
men but women and even children." He mentioned particularly that American miners
and traders contributed much to the spread of this habit.42
The European epidemic diseases also took a toll on the Dena'ina population. An
1884 influenza outbreak that claimed the lives of many children up to two years of
age proved especially severe. In 1895 Vladimir Modestov described the consequences of smallpox and cholera epidemics among the inland Dena'ina: "In the
v^k^-" W \ * ,
Figure 3.2. Ioann Bortnovsky, a missionary to

the Dena'ina from 1896 to 1907. Photograph
courtesy of the M. Z. Vinokouroff Collection,
Alaska State Library Historical Collections
(#PCA 243-93).
Figure 3.3. Alexander Iaroshevich, a missionary to

the Dena'ina from 1893 to 1895. Photograph courtesy of the M. Z. Vinokouroff Collection, Alaska State
Library Historical Collections (#PCA 243-88).
104
present time there are only 138 Kenaitze of both sexes alive, whereas ten or eighteen years ago their number reached 600-800 people"43 In 1901-1902 a measles
epidemic additionally depleted all native settlements. These-devastations also resulted in large population movements.
Some Dena'ina left old villages, formed new ones, or moved to larger settlements. During his 1880 visit to the Dena'ina of the Mulchatna area the missionary
Vasilii Shishkin drew a grim picture of devastation produced by epidemics:
Last fall in this village nine people died from an epidemic that looks like a scarlet fever.
Moreover, during my visit their toion, Jacob Kakilishtukta, also died and I performed a
funeral service for him. Until the present day, according to our confessional rosters there
were 144 residents in Mulchatna, but later a large part of them died out or moved out
somewhere, I do not know where. So that, according to the new rosters, it turned out that
the village has only twenty-seven people of both sexes.44
The whole population of the inland Dena'ina dropped from 324 persons (1878)45
to 127 by 1915. Dena'ina of the Kijik village who suffered a few epidemics also
came to the conclusion that the ground where their village stood had been poisoned and apparently on both a missionary's and their elders' advise they abandoned the old site in 1901 and founded a new settlement, Nondalton, close to the
trading post on Iliamna Lake and the canneries of Bristol Bay.46 In 1918 the second wave of the influenza epidemic killed many Dena'ina elders.47 Fall stresses, in
particular, "by 1918, when the Alaska railroad pushed through the Cook Inlet area
and an influenza epidemic hit the Upper Inlet, the Tanaina [Dena'ina] had become
a disadvantaged minority in one of Alaska's most dynamic regions."48
By the turn of the century a number of small depopulated villages located around
Kenai were in the process of disintegration. Later, in 1921, the last missionary to
the Dena'ina appointed from Russia, Pavel Shadura, wrote that in four major
Dena'ina villages many residents died, while others moved to nearby booming
towns. According to his information, the Indians "die like flies" from the flu and
measles. "If it goes like this," Shadura concluded, "the priest will have to leave the
parish." Twice in his account he stressed that the population of the Kenai parish
had decreased by half.49
Demographic changes accompanied by a large number of mixed marriages altered matrilineal kinship organization, and by the early twentieth century singlefamily units replaced kin-related extended entities.50 No "pure" Dena'ina villages
remained because of the intermarriages and population fluctuations that started
with the Russian presence and increased during the American period. It appears
that at this time, a typical Dena'ina village comprised full-bloods and Creoles of
both Russian-Aleut/Alutiiq and Russian-Aleut/Alutiiq-Dena'ina origin. To these
people there should be added American miners and merchants who also settled
down in the Dena'ina villages at the turn of the century. Incidentally, missionary
reports made frequent references to the mixed population composition of the
Dena'ina settlements. For instance, in 1889 Shishkin reported that on St. Nicholas
105
Day he gave communion to the entire Iliamna village, numbering fifty-three

Dena'ina and a few Creole families with infants. In his 1895 roster of the residents
of the same village another missionary, Modestov, provided more specific information, counting twenty-four Creole people and fifty-two Dena'ina Indians.51
On the whole, until the second half of the nineteenth century Dena'ina were
able to maintain balanced reciprocal relationships with the newcomers. This situation changed between the 1890s and the 1920s, the crucial period of Dena'ina
history, as they faced the challenges to them by external forces and had to survive
in an unfamiliar environment. This period, however, cannot be treated as a chain
of "grim" events that brought only negative consequences for Dena'ina culture
and made them dissolve into American society. On the contrary, the natives became involved in a creative dialogue with Euroamericans by making purposeful
decisions to build a native culture by reexamining their traditional order in the
light of the new values brought by newcomers. In trying to capture the essence of
this reexamination the anthropologists Alan Boras and Donita Peter introduce the
metaphor of the "Dena'ina enlightenment" in order to stress the active role of the
natives in shaping their new culture and identity.52
DENA'INA ORTHODOX CHRISTIANIZATION

It appears that one aspect of this "native enlightenment" was adjustment of Orthodox Christianity to Dena'ina tradition. Part of the explanation why the Indians
adjusted themselves to the changing conditions with relative speed apparently lies
in certain Athapaskan general cultural characteristics. James VanStone and Joan
Townsend noted that the Athapaskans demonstrated extreme adaptability, respected
individual initiative and lacked excessive social control over the community's
members. Athapaskans, on the whole, and the Dena'ina in particular readily integrated alien elements into their cultures.53 The Indian responses to the changes of
the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries confirm this assessment. The social and
economic transformation the natives faced at the turn of the century allowed them
to turn to certain elements of Russian Christianity, which helped them cope with
the changes.
Their increased interest in Orthodox ways even drove one author to the exaggerated conclusion that the Kenai natives "clung fondly to the Russian ways they had
adopted, learning the Russian language and entertaining no small interest in the
affairs of the Empire that lay across the Bering Sea."54 Such assessments downplay
a simple fact, that Orthodoxy's being integrated into Dena'ina society constituted
neither a superficial imposition on "traditional" beliefs nor a carbon copy of Russian Christianity. It rather became a native church or popular Indian Orthodoxy,
within which Christian and "shamanistic" values were merged to the point that
they became inseparable.
Evidence collected in this chapter suggests that the natives used the Russian
church as an instrument for survival to cope with the Euroamerican society that
106
was being established in their territories. Ellanna and Balluta, authors of the most
recent Dena'ina ethnohistory, draw attention to the fact that the Russian church
"served as a rallying point for more conservative, tradition-oriented local residents." This contention is strongly reminiscent of Kan's earlier assumption that
among another native American group, the Tlingit, more conservative individuals
pressured by Protestant missionaries turned instead to Russian Orthodoxy as a
more convenient niche for survival of.traditional customs.55 I would like to expand
these observations and suggest that in the Dena'ina case not only conservative
elements, but the entire population gradually embraced and reinterpreted Orthodoxy. The latter was turned into a native church not only for spiritual purposes, but
also for the purposes of maintaining social integrity and local self-government.
Why was it Orthodox Christianity and not some other denomination that was
used as a building block to construct a new Dena'ina identity? A first probable
explanation that lies on the surface is that Orthodoxy was the Christian church
most familiar to the Indians. Second, it seems that to the Dena'ina, Russian Orthodoxy with its ancient ceremonialism stood as a structure both "European" and
"traditional" enough to help build a bridge of continuity between the "old" times,
prior to the 1867 Alaska purchase, and "new" American society. Yet, it should be
noted that before the 1880s, Russian Orthodoxy exercised little influence over the
Dena'ina. Although the Orthodox had worked among these Indians since the end
of the eighteenth century, established the Kenai mission in 1849,56 and remained
for a long time the only Christian missionaries in the region, documents up to this
time yield evidence of minimal church presence in the area. By contrast, an upsurge of religious activities among the Dena'ina occurred between the 1890s and
the 1920s.
Apparently, growth of native interest in Russian Christianity at the end of the
nineteenth century was also associated with epidemic diseases. No attentive observer can ignore the fact that the two major epidemics in Dena'ina history correlated with the Indians' increasing interest in seeking out Orthodoxy. Incidentally,
the establishment of the first Orthodox mission among the Dena'ina in 1849 followed the disastrous smallpox epidemic of 1836-1840, when the Dena'ina population declined by 50 percent.57 The second period of active missionary work started
at the turn of the 1890s and followed the epidemics of 1883-1884. It is hard to
avoid generalizations that these two examples suggest that the Indians (among
other goals) decided to use the "Russian medicine" for the spiritual purpose of
powerful and collective treatment.
Abbot Nicholas (Nikolai) Militov became the first priest to conduct regular work
(1845-1867) among the Dena'ina. As early as 1845, he came to the Kenai village
and baptized local Indians who had been previously converted by a layman. In
September 1849, Militov rebuilt the existing chapel into a permanent church and
stayed in this area for the next twenty-five years.58 Unlike later Kenai missionaries, Militov operated not only among Lower Inlet Dena'ina, but also among inland
groups (Iliamna, Mulchatna, and Kijik). About 1850 he was even able to convert
fourteen Ahtna Indians, "Kenaitzes"' northern neighbors, who lived very far from
107
Russian settlements and were considered independent.59 Yet, it appears that Militov's
major activities were concentrated in the Kenai area, the place of his residency.
Later on, inland Dena'ina along with Yupik were separated into the Nushagak
parish and Hiermonk Theophilus became the first missionary to begin regular activities in this region. His parish records for 1857 show that there were 143 Dena'ina
in the Nushagak area, residents of Kijik, Iliamna, and Mulchatna villages. Still,
Theophilus stressed that geographically it was very hard for him to reach these
Indians. Thus, in 1858 he was able to confess and give communion to 144 Indians.
However, in 1860, 1862, and 1867 the missionary did not visit the villages mentioned at all and no inland Dena'ina partook in sacraments.60 It appears that permanent presence of missionaries in this region was established only in the 1870s.
Conversely, in the Lower Cook Inlet the activities of Abbot Nicholas were much
more noticeable. Here he lived amid the Dena'ina and contacted them on a daily
basis. To make his Orthodox message more effective, abbot organized a small
parochial school. Along with his assistant he vaccinated hundreds of natives for
smallpox in the 1860s and treated injuries and wounds. These vaccination campaigns deeply affected local Indians. In his 1860s diaries and reports Militov referred to himself and his deacon as "healers of the natives." This medical help
paved the road for a dialogue between the Indians and the missionary. In fact, later
on, after the first successful results of the vaccination, when they heard about a
coming smallpox epidemic, Dena'ina themselves started to approach the missionary asking for treatment and evidently connecting healing with the power of Orthodoxy. One woman did not want to die unless the missionary sent her a shirt and
a cross to cover her in the coffin.61 It seems that Abbot Nicholas realized that the
Dena'ina considered him a great shaman in possession of strong medicine. Militov
used this opportunity to inculcate Russian Orthodoxy among the natives. Referring to his successful medical performances he underscored that "their vivid results had instructive influence on the Kenaitze."62 In 1863 he made the following
self-serving entry in his journal: "They [the Indians] consider me a superman."63
Abbot Nicholas did not dismiss gifts as one of the ways to win Dena'ina hearts.
Thus in 1849 he reported to Bishop Veniaminov:
Without giving too much credit to myself, I still feel obliged to mention that I dressed many
of the local poor in clean white clothing to ensure that Our Lord gives me strength to
conduct services in this temple. As a matter of fact, I practice this good Russian tradition of
generosity during all major feasts right before or on the eve of the liturgy. Though modestly, I nevertheless dress and feed natives several times a year.64
Thus, in 1859 at St. Nicholas Day and Christmas Nicholas fed all common
"Kenaizte" who visited the church fish soup, whereas their headmen were served
tea and pies.65 The missionary also claimed that during his tenure "heathen superstitions" of Dena'ina disappeared. On the whole, Militov stated that he converted
four hundred natives, but the effect of these conversions remained dubious. On the
one hand, the missionary journals provide examples of the Dena'ina's pious be-
108
havior such as reverence toward crosses and regular mass participation in Orthodox feasts.
On the other hand, from the same accounts it may be assumed that despite vigorous evangelization activities Orthodoxy coexisted with indigenous shamanism
in a syncretic form. Thus, at the turn of the 1860s, despite total conversion of the
Lower Inlet Dena'ina, Nicholas still had to confront shamans among them. In
1859 he repeatedly made two "die-hard shamans" kneel down in the Kenai church
as a punishment, and these medicine men supposedly promised not to shamanize
anymore. Next year again in another village, Kustatan, he persistently tried to
convince a medicine man to quit his "disgusting vocation," but Nicholas does not
inform us of what came of it.66 At the end of 1863 Nicholas openly admitted the
coexistence of Orthodoxy and shamanism:
According to my instructions, almost all Kenaitze make it sure that before going to hunting
expeditions and after completing them, they come to church and ask for molebens [short
church services]. They also approach me to serve molebens on the occasion of a birthday or
to sing a funeral service for their deceased relatives. However, they still do not leave their
heathen customs. Sometimes one can hear among the young Kenaitze their singing or some
wild roaring and sounds of dancing. Yet, they try do it in such a way that I will not find out
about this. I do not leave such incidents without my reprimands.67
As a matter of fact, in 1860 Bishop Petr described the character of the Dena'ina
affiliation with Orthodoxy thus: "They are of a rather gentle nature, obedient and
cross themselves when they are persuaded that it is necessary, but generally they
are indifferent to religion."68 Nevertheless, it seems that the Indians were aware of
the general church doctrines and ostensibly accepted Christianity, while still practicing activities based on traditional beliefs.
After the Alaska purchase by the United States in 1867, the Russian government
reduced support for the Orthodox church in the region and missionary activities
temporarily subsided. Until 1880 the Kenai area was left without a priest and all
services were performed by Creole readers educated by Militov. However, during
the 1880s, when the Russian government renewed its funding to the mission, Orthodoxy in Alaska increased its activities. As a result, in 1881 the Russian church
sent Nikita Marchenkov (Hiermonk Nikita) to Kenai, where he stayed until 1887.
Although Hiermonk Nikita worked fervently to secure the Dena'ina for the Russian church, Vladimir Donskoi, the dean of Alaska clergy, did not give him much
credit and stressed that Nikita's missionary work did not produce any significant
results. During Marchenkov's entire stay this missionary was able to convert only
two Ahtna Indians (Copper, or Mednovtsy in Russian).69
In reality, Nikita's conversion report indicated that the natives he baptized could
be better described as returned to Orthodoxy rather than newly acquired souls.
During his 1881-1882 trip, he also wrote that among the Dena'ina "superstitions
and crude paganist customs characteristic of the semi-savage people still exist everywhere." In 1883 he complained that in most Dena'ina villages people "switched
109
from the Christian religion to their former customs," and that he had to reconvert
them.70 Nikita reported to his superiors, "In each village, especially in the distant
ones, where there were no Russian Creoles, I found one, two or even three shamans, who keep people so firmly in their grips and who are trusted so much that
one even cannot imagine the extent of it. One should see it."71
He also complained that even some Creoles became addicted to shamanism,
more specifically that "the Creoles who settled in the native communities turned
savage and adopted the native habits. Such for instance is the chief of Chkituk
village who forgot how to speak Russian. Besides, the Creoles, to my regret, are
often the first to set bad examples for the semi-savage people."72 As a result, according to Nikita, the entire work of his mission was devoted in that time to "correction of native manners and their erratic customs."73 In fact, what could be found
in the settlements visited by this missionary was an intimate coexistence of native
rituals and Christianity that gradually became incorporated into the village tradition. An agent of the ACC in Tyonek, Vasilii Stafeev, who left the most comprehensive record of Dena'ina village life between 1884 and 1888, described the
same people visited by Nikita as participants in both potlatch ceremonies and Orthodox feasts along with Christmas carols.74
In the meantime, another missionary, Shishkin, worked to secure the inland
Dena'ina for the Orthodox church. In 1878 Shishkin reported that all Dena'ina of
this area were converted except "twenty-eight souls" in the Mulchatna area, who
two years later finally agreed to accept baptism.75 Still, Deacon Krilianovski was
not optimistic about the general state of Dena'ina Christianization. In 1880 he
noted that more that one-third of the baptized Kenaitze "remained in the grips of
Shamanism and were ignorant of Orthodoxy."76
At the same time, despite the persistence of shamanism, in the 1870s and 1880s
there existed a large group of Dena' ina and Creoles in the coastal areas who apparently started to treat Orthodoxy as their own religion. An 1878 petition by the
"residents of all Kenai Gulf indicates that the Indians played an important role in
the church life in the Cook Inlet. In this petition Kenai area people complained that
they had not had a priest since 1867 and asked Orthodox ecclesiastical authorities
to send them one. More important, the petition indicated that 105 Creoles and 746
"Kenaitze" signed the document, including chiefs of Tyonek and two Knik villages, although a number of the neighboring Alutiiq most probably also signed the
document.77 Moreover, Hiermonk Nikita, who lamented the weak Dena'ina
Christianization, still felt obliged to stress that "shamanism which was about to
spread around villages now subsided and does not exist openly."78 This evidence
suggests that in the Dena'ina worldview at this time shamanism and Christianity
started to evolve into one whole system of popular Orthodoxy. The records of
Iaroshevich, who worked among the Dena'ina in the beginning of the 1890s, also
point to such merging. In 1893 this missionary indicated that he had to reprimand
two Dena'ina medicine men who were simultaneously local healers and practicing Orthodox.79
110
Zealous Nikolai Mitropolsky (1888-1892), who succeeded Marchenkov, suffering from alcohol-related problems, expanded the missionary work and made
advances into the northern part of Dena'ina country, specifically to Knik village,
where he wintered in 1888. Apart from the Dena'ina, he was able to "catch" more
than one hundred souls of the Athna Indians, who had proved uncooperative to
priests before.80 It was not only the attempts to keep "savages" away from "shamanistic temptations" that drove the Russian church to increase its activities at this
time, but also the fact that after 1867 Orthodoxy lost its monopoly over Alaska and
had to compete with other European denominations. Alaska was considered a valuable battleground, and Moravian and Presbyterian missions became the most serious challenge to Russian Orthodoxy, since they took seriously the issues of economic and social improvement of the liative communities. In 1891 the priest
Vladimir Donskoi alerted Innokentii, one of the chiefs of the Alaskan Orthodox
church, that "now the time has already come not to convert the Indians, but to keep
them loyal to our church."81
Trying to entrench themselves in native society, Russian priests attempted to
play the role of protectors from "harmful" and "corrupt" settlers and American
civilization in particular. Mitropolsky's successor, Iaroshevich, sided with the Indians when their interests clashed with those of the ACC. His Kenai church even
became a "bastion of resistance" against the company's storekeeper Alec Rayan,
who had tried imposing his "Wild West" justice in the Kenai area by harassing and
intimidating the natives. Vladimir Donskoi, who went to Kenai to investigate this
conflict, stated that "the agents of the Alaska Commercial Company, profiting
from the absence of any kind of government in Kenai deal with a free hand, not
only with the natives, but with the white people, who take the liberty of not complying with their unlawful desires."82 When Dena'ina and local Creoles asked the
Russian church to help them compose a petition to District Judge Truitt about
Ryan's behavior, Orthodox missionaries quickly responded. For this reason, the
native leaders and residents used the Kenai mission not only to strengthen their
identity, but also to fill the power vacuum caused by the demise of indigenous
leadership and the lack of official law and order.
In the 1870s-1890s, Dena'ina communities and the mission collaborated in building chapels (prayer houses). It was expected that after the construction was complete, natives would maintain and improve thse structures themselves. Thus, by
1889 with the help of Mitropolsky the Dena'ina built St. Nicholas chapel in Knik.83
A Bortnovsky report describes the role the community played in controlling this
chapel. When local American traders in Knik learned about the decision by the
Dena'ina to move St. Nicholas chapel to the more convenient location of New
Knik (Eklutna) (Figure 3.4), they asked Bortnovsky to prevent this and even offered financial support for the old chapel. The Indians, however, made all arrangements to move the church without notifying the priest. The American merchants'
reaction demonstrates that dismantling the old chapel would mean that the entire
village population would also have to move, and the traders would need to replace
their stores.84 Bortnovsky also reported that in 1901 when he had asked the New
111
Knik Indians to donate to the improvement of a chapel, the natives again became
very responsive and even added some extra money.85 However, in the same year
Seldovians, whose chapel also needed repairs, did not agree to donate money,
most probably because of their financial difficulties. Bortnovsky threatened that
he would not visit Seldovia anymore because its residents acted "as misbehaving
children who do not listen to the advice of their father.'* Only after this reprimand
did they agree to rebuild the chapel.86
In Iliamna, an inland Dena'ina village, a prayer house was constructed in 1877
"by residents themselves," who maintained the building and in 1907 even renovated it.87 In the village of Tyonek, where a chapel existed from around 1882,
natives decided in 1892 to rebuild it at their own expense. In one of his letters
Iaroshevich reported that a chapel in Kustatan village built in 1892 was started as
a totally native initiative, and that "residents of the village conducted all work
upon their own inspiration."88 Dena'ina of the Kijik village constructed their chapel
in 1889.89 Incidentally, this was the time of the severe influenza epidemic, which
killed many residents of this village. The styles of these buildings combined ancient Orthodox elements and the forms brought from eastern Siberia. Thus, the
Kijik church was a six-sided structure with the east side of sanctuary having three
sides. The latter form goes back to ancient Christian baptismal chapels of the preByzantine era. The altar faced east, symbolizing the true faith that comes from the
rising sun.90
On the whole, by the turn of the twentieth century all major Dena'ina villages
had set up nine chapels headed by Dena'ina or Creole churchwardens, readers,
and song leaders, who received rudimentary religious training. It also appears that
natives attempted to turn these chapels into centers of Dena'ina religious and social life. Along with trade stations the prayer houses attracted those Indians who
survived epidemics and economic disruptions. About Chkituk, one of the depopulated villages struck by influenza and haunted by famine, Hiermonk Anatolii wrote
in 1896 that its inhabitants were planning to "move to Kenai, closer to the church
itself."91 Also, in 1902 Trefon, a toion of the village Telaquana, decided to move
close to Iliamna, the larger Dena'ina village, because it had the chapel and a school,
which Telaquana did not have.92 As a characteristic feature of Dena'ina religious
life the priest Modestov noted "special love" of Dena'ina for their chapels, particularly for their maintaining and decorating.93 We also learn from missionary
reports that by the turn of the century virtually all residents of the Dena'ina villages visited by priests took part in church services. For example, Bortnovsky
related that the entire population of the Tyonek village gathered for his service in
the local chapel. To keep track of Orthodox feast days residents of this village as
well as Susitna and Knik kept "improvised wooden calendars" carved on boards
that helped illiterate Indians. Moreover, in 1892 Tyonek Indians asked Mitropolsky
to send them one or two readers, but he could not promise any because of the lack
of resources.94
In light of this evidence, it is hard to agree with Dzeniskevich's statement that
the Athapaskans "demonstrated complete lack of interest in Christian sermons,"
112
though they did not refuse to accept baptism. Furthermore, the evidence does not
support her other argument, that Athapaskan society was not ready to accept Christianity because socially and economically the Indians were not advanced enough
for such sophisticated religion.95
RUSSIAN ORTHODOX BROTHERHOODS AND DENA'INA LAY

LEADERSHIP
The adjustments of Orthodox mutual aid societies or brotherhoods to the Indian
social and political system demonstrate that the Dena'ina were ready to accept
Christianity, but on their own terms. In North America Orthodox brotherhoods
had appeared since the second half of the nineteenth century with the goal of
increasing the prestige and social role of Orthodoxy among Slavic immigrants.
With regard to the native groups in Alaska, these mutual aid societies pursued not
only economic and social goals, but also missionary purposes.96 In October 1893,
when the priest Iaroshevich and local Creoles proposed the creation of a native
Orthodox brotherhood the Indians responded favorably but did not really understand what it was all about. Yet, in 1894-1895 the membership of the newly created society named after the feast day of Protection by the Most Holy Lady
Theotokes (Virgin Mary) quickly grew from 14 to 132 persons.97 It seems that the
Russian church and the Dena'ina pursued their own goals. The missionaries attempted to create an umbrella organization for more effective control of the Dena'ina
and secure them for the Russian church through social work.
It was clear that the Dena'ina enjoyed the economic and social benefits of the
society and its communal orientation, along with the elaborate ceremonialism of
the brotherhood's meetings. Natives, however, did not adopt to the offered structure passively. Although the Indians responded favorably to the mutual aid aspects
of the brotherhoods' work, at the same time, they demonstrated a selective approach to the ideological and administrative structures the missionaries offered.
For example, the Dena'ina resisted Iaroshevich's efforts to unite all Cook Inlet
communities into a single society, with the Kenai village serving as headquarters.
Treating a centralized system as alien to their tradition, they were reluctant to
support an organization outside their individual villages. Iaroshevich, who barely
understood the decentralized social organization of Dena'ina society, desperately
attempted to persuade the natives to pay dues. Brotherhood members at Susitna
openly refused to pay, saying, "We do not know what you do there with our money
and we do not see any use for us." The Indians of the Knik village also refused to
take part in the work of the Kenai brotherhood.98
Explaining their position, the natives insisted on the creation of independent
local brotherhoods, which would reflect their traditional political and social structure. Only after the missionary fully agreed with this did the Indians accept the
mutual aid societies. As a result, five native brotherhoods instead of only one were
created: Kenai Holy Protection Brotherhood ( 1893), Seldovia St. Theodosius Broth-
113
erhood (1896), Knik St. Sergius Brotherhood (1896), Susitna St. Metrophanes
Brotherhood (1896), and Tyonek St. Innokentii Brotherhood (1897). In
Alexandrovsk and Ninilchik villages two other brotherhoods, formally part of the
Kenai mission, united the Aleuts and Alutiiq and Creoles." My discussion will
focus on the Kenai Brotherhood because it was the most active and well-covered
by documentary materials.
Missionaries defined the formal goals of the Kenai Brotherhood as follows: (1)
to care for the parochial school in Kenai, (2) to care for the church building, (3) to
help the poor in the parish, (4) to take care of the church cemetery.100 Because the
Orthodox church did not restrict membership to a specific ethnic group, in the
Kenai Brotherhood besides the Dena'ina there were Russians and Creoles (occupying leadership positions), Aleuts and Alutiiq, and even some American traders.101 Although Orthodoxy considered the Americans potential carriers of the
"Protestant heresy/' when the missionaries inquired about their admission as brotherhood members, they always received favorable responses from higher church
officials.102 The Kenai Holy Protection Brotherhood gained respect and recognition among the natives through various communal activities that benefited both
members and nonmembers. For example, this society provided regular help for
the sick and the poor, whether native or white. In 1895, it also mobilized resources
to fight against a severe famine in Kustatan, a village on the opposite shore of
Cook Inlet.103 As a result, unlike other Dena'ina villages, the residents of Kustatan
became the only ones who did not split from the Kenai Brotherhood. The society
spread its activities to all spheres of the Dena'ina life in the Kenai area. Its members planted potato fields, kept schools, improved Orthodox cemeteries, and even
set up a library and drugstore.104 To challenge high prices in the local ACC general
store, members set up their own "brotherhood grocery" with reduced prices to
force the company to do likewise.105 Not surprisingly, the ACC's local agent obstructed the work of the Russian church in Kenai and even attempted in 1897 to
prevent the building of a new church.
At first, brotherhoods also concentrated on fighting the excessive drinking of
local natives and whites. It was mentioned earlier that alcohol abuse was a problem on the northern frontier and in the Kenai area particularly. In November 1905
a U.S. federal marshal appealed to the Kenai Brotherhood to battle alcoholism as
soon as possible.106 In the beginning of the present century the social drive for
general temperance, both in Russia and in the United States, convinced the Orthodox church to treat this social problem separately from other. To relieve brotherhoods of temperance activities the church founded special temperance societies.
One of them, St. Nicholas Temperance Society, was established in Kenai in 1906.
The new organization copied the structure of existing brotherhoods.107 It is also
interesting that in contrast to the brotherhoods, the idea of a united temperance
society with headquarters in Kenai was accepted by the Indians, who set up local
branches in their settlements. It might have been a growing realization that alcohol
abuse was a common problem that should be treated by all villages together. Those
who became its members took an oath not to drink for one year. They could then
114
renew the oath the following year or take it for their whole life. In Seldovia, which
was reported as the most addictive to alcohol, forty-three Indians and Creoles eventually joined the St. Nicholas Society and eleven members took the oath never to
drink again.108
In addition to the regular meetings filled with prayers and hymns, the temperance society arranged collective readings of religious literature translated from
Russian to Dena'ina. A Creole translator, Aleksei Pamfilov, usually interpreted the
readings.109 Members of the Kenai Brotherhood and the St. Nicholas Society had
their own insignia, banners, and "brotherhood badges" as well as separate places
at village cemeteries. Missionaries insistently cultivated a corporate spirit among
members by stipulating a system of various penalties and awards. Despite the obvious pro-Orthodox bias of missionary'accounts, it was clear that the brotherhoods and the temperance society wielded significant influence on native members. Many Dena'ina who were excluded for various violations of the Kenai
Brotherhood's by-laws (drinking, polygamy, not paying dues, and so on) often
asked to be readmitted. Russian priests publicized the most active members as
village leaders, "model" residents, and Christians and regularly recommended them
for various religious and even secular positions.
Normally, village leadership, controlled both by the church and by the natives
themselves, centered on three positions: toion, zakazchik, and churchwarden. At
the second half of the nineteenth century by virtue of its ethnic origin in some
Dena'ina villages the leadership was composed of the Dena'ina and Creoles; in
others all leaders were full-blood Dena'ina. For example, in 1893 in the village of
Seldovia native leadership included a Creole (Russian-Alutiiq) toion, Zakhar
(Zackar) Berestov; a Dena'ina zakazchik, Nikolai Baiu; and a churchwarden, the
Creole Zakhar (Zackar) Balashov. In Tyonek all positions were occupied by
Dena'ina: Konstantin Kundukuliashin, who was a toion, and Petr
Unikhliachuliakhlian, who combined positions of zakazchik and churchwarden.
As in Tyonek, in Kustatan, Susitna, and Knik leadership was similarly represented
by full-blood Dena'ina.110
Toion (village chief) was the Russian word for native leaders, which had originated in Siberia. Zakazchik (also a Russian word) was a type of local unofficial
marshal who supervised social and economic activities and church services.
Churchwardens usually maintained chapel buildings, sold candles, and occasionally acted as readers. Whereas the definition of toion does not cause disagreements
among scholars, the same is not true for zakazchik. Fall writes that this position as
introduced by the Russians meant "second" or "hunting chief."111 However, careful investigation of missionary documents only partially supports Fall's explanation, especially as related to Dena'ina life of the end of the nineteenth century. No
evidence supports his other contention that the zakazchiks were sons of the toions,
Ellanna and Balluta provide a more correct definition of zakazchik as a "church
leader" and "second chief."112
It appears that the Dena'ina used toions, zakazchik, churchwardens, and brotherhood structures for communal self-government but still did not eliminate tradi-
115
tinal headmen. Rather, Orthodox structures reinforced indigenous leadership.

Ellanna and Balluta write, "In fact, the inclusion of caring for the church and
ensuring attendance as duties of the chief and second chief comformed to the
traditional spiritual expectations of the qeshqa within a different institutional framework."113 As a rule, in addition to their secular duties, Dena'ina toions and zakazchiks
frequently shared with the churchwarden responsibilities for maintaining a local
chapel and supervising chapel attendance. Iaroshevich informed his superior,
Vladimir Donskoi, that in each "Kenaitze" village (Knik, Tyonek, Susitna, and
Kustatan), the entire local leadership, toions, zakazchiks, and churchwardens, were
in charge of chapel maintenance and religious life. This suggests that, despite their
various functions, Dena'ina headmen were actively involved in chapel life. More
specifically, they divided their functions as follows: the toion was responsible for
chapel money; the zakazchik supervised economic activities of the village, collected church dues, and gave them to the toion; and the churchwarden maintained
the building, cleaned it, and was also responsible for selling church candles. It
should be pointed out that some toions, zakazchiks, and churchwardens simultaneously acted as church readers.114 For example, the toion of the Old Nondalton
village, Zackar Evanoff, who treated Orthodoxy as an indigenous religion, encouraged people to attend chapel. In addition, Dena'ina oral history indicates that
several powerful shamans and qeshqas became the most active and devout lay
readers for local Orthodoxy. Documents of the ACC also show that during the first
four decades of the American presence the previous Russian system of leadership
survived as a local native institution.115
Missionary documents and independent observations indicate that the hereditary principle for nominating Dena'ina leaders gave way to an election process.
Some information about the procedure of these elections also exists. Hanna Breece,
who worked as a schoolteacher in Nondalton during 1910-1911, stressed that a
"chief had not inherited his position, but was elected by his people and then they
all stand by him."116 Anthropological evidence supports this observation. Fall argues that as kin organization weakened, selection of leadership positions started
following Western models. He also emphasizes that the political effectiveness of
the toions rested not only on occupation of this position, but on village residents'
recognition of them as qeshqa. Therefore, some qeshqa merged both traditional
position with the formal office. Missionary accounts indicate that local natives
took an active part in selecting the toions, zakazchiks, and churchwardens. By
nominating Dena'ina traditional leaders to the positions recognized by the Russian church, missionaries reinforced the influence of these community leaders in
their villages.117
Priests understandably attempted to stress their own role in selecting native village headmen. For example, in 1893 Iaroshevich said of the Seldovia Dena'ina:
"Local natives have a wonderful tradition not to do anything without a priest's
blessing. Therefore, nomination of the toion or zakazchik, who are elected by a
community, is always confirmed by a priest's blessing." In his 1896 diary,
Bortnovsky also indicated that "in case of the death of one of the chiefs, his sue-
116
cessor is not elected by the people until the arrival of the priest." To strengthen the
Orthodox leadership among the Indians, Hiermonk Anatolii recommended to the
Kenai priest that "newly appointed toions take an oath in the presence of a solemn
gathering of chapel parishioners." M8 Later, missionaries did introduce this procedure in Dena'ina villages. Nevertheless, the same reports point out that all adult
village inhabitants also influenced the selection of toions, zakazchiks, and
churchwardens. Modestov supervised the election of a churchwarden/reader in
Iliamna. The priest indicated that the new warden, the Creole Ignatius Rickteroff,
and his two full-blooded Dena'ina assistants (one of them Evanoff) had been elected
"with an agreement of all village residents."119 Also, we have detailed and representative data on the elections in the Dena'ina village of Seldovia for different
years.
Thus, in his statement Iaroshevich clearly pointed that an entire community
elected the Seldovia leadership. Later, in 1897 after a brotherhood meeting, all
Seldovians participated in the election of zakazchik. Then the newly elected Indian
was led to the church and took an oath before all the people. In August 1900, in the
same village, the Indians elected a new toion and zakazchik to replace those who
died. In addition, these new leaders again took the Orthodox oath and received
instructions from a missionary. In a similar way, after the priests' approval, all
residents of the village elected and swore in the churchwardens.120 In 1901
Seldovians nominated Vasilii Baiu, a Dena'ina, to the position of churchwarden.
According to Bortnovsky, he was "a person truly honest, sober, morally reliable
and a zealous Orthodox believer" After Baiu died, a Creole, Ivan Alexandrov,
succeeded him with the approval from all residents.121 Some of these leaders, like
Nikolai Kuncialtuhlin, a Dena'ina zakazchik from the Knik village, gained authority and influence not only in their own communities but among local Americans.122
From the available information, it can be concluded that missionaries and brotherhoods recommended specific candidates for village leadership that were subsequently ratified by all residents, or vice versa.
A system of regular church awards to distinguished individuals was an additional tool Orthodoxy used to raise native leadership. An indication of this practice
is given in the scarce Kenai mission documents of the 1840s-1850s, which mention ten icons presented as an award to the "Kenaitze toion" Vasilii Kistakhin in
1851 for "zealous assistance in conversion of natives and supervision of their villages."123 At the turn of the century, Kenai missionaries in their letters to the Ecclesiastical Consistory in Sitka asked church officials to award specific people not
only for religious zeal, but for the general improvement of native living conditions. In his 1896 report, Bortnovsky nominated Petr Chickalusion, toion of the
Kustatan village, and Stepan Tuchketelketan, zakazchik, as possible recipients of
awards for both their religious and their secular work. Bortnovsky also campaigned
for another Dena'ina, Aleksei Kalifornsky, who combined positions of zakazchik
and churchwarden in Kalifornskoe. The missionary identified him as a person
who "absolutely alone built the local chapel" and contributed much to the general
improvement in the village, which then "enjoyed order and good life."124
117
Though missionaries also attempted to use parochial schools for more successful indoctrination of local natives, the Dena'ina did not treat Orthodox education
as an imposition. They employed schooling for their own benefit to strengthen
their social integrity. Iaroshevich reported, "They regularly went to school despite
severe frosts. Children of the Kenaitze were especially persistent. Each day they
had to cover around three miles. There were incidents when children less resistant
to cold had to be taken back home on their way to school."125 Despite insistent
efforts of clerics, apart from a few temporary schools there was only one permanent Orthodox school, opened by Iaroshevich in Kenai. Twenty-two Dena'ina and
Creole children studied here. Among the major subjects taught were catechism,
church service, Russian language, Old Church Slavonic, English, mathematics,
and church singing. The priest and psalm reader acted as teachers.126
Although on a few occasions missionaries complained that it was "hard to attach the native to school," it was evident that Dena'ina did not have any animosity
toward education. Rather, seasonal economic cycles required that children participate in village work, which sometimes hindered regular schooling. For instance,
Bortnovsky mentioned that the Knik Dena'ina loved school, studied very zealously, and also sought to learn Russian. However, they were not able to devote all
their time to studying, because of their long hunting expeditions. It was also clear
that some Indian parents did want their children to get an Orthodox education,
aside from requiring their help in important economic activities. Aleksei Ivanov, a
psalm reader from Kenai who was sent to Tyonek to organize a school, complained
that virtually all the residents, including children, left the village for summer hunting or fishing and would not be back until late fall. Nevertheless, the chief of the
village and a few other Indians allowed their children to stay at school.127 It also is
noteworthy that in 1899, a Dena'ina zakazchik from Seldovia, Nikolai Baiu, allowed his own house to accommodate a local missionary school. Bortnovsky
stressed that this fact demonstrated "Seldovia natives' strong desire to educate
their children in the spirit of their own Russian Orthodox beliefs [italics added]."128
DENA'INA ORTHODOXY
While the Dena'ina used local chapels, brotherhoods, and Orthodox rituals for
the construction of their social structure and identity and accepted much of the
Orthodox tradition, they ignored elements not reconcilable to their own culture.
Missionary reports, generally praising "the humble Kenaitze," show that many
Dena'ina did not know the common prayers and "prayed in their own way when in
church." The lack of knowledge of Dena'ina and other Athapaskan languages seriously hindered missionary activities. Although some Dena'ina, for example, the
entire population of the Seldovia village, spoke Russian and therefore could be
directly exposed to church doctrines, in Knik, Tyonek, and even Kenai, missionaries always worked through translators. Furthermore, missionaries who usually lived
and worked in Kenai did not have many chances to supervise other Dena'ina vil-
118
lages because of weather conditions. Priests usually visited native settlements once
a year, certainly not often enough for intensive indoctrination of people in Orthodoxy. For instance, Shadura visited Dena'ina villages during the summertime and
stayed in each for a week.
Not surprisingly, clerics were keenly interested in finding and promoting natives or mixed-bloods who could be useful as mediators, and they relied on these
brokers for regular religious work. In the Knik village the churchwarden was a
full-blooded Dena'ina, Mikhail Tishuveljushin, who later was succeeded by another, Ivan Natusha. Bortnovsky stressed the latter was chosen because of his active role as a "foreman" in building and decorating the new chapel in New Knik
(Eklutna).129 In Tyonek, Iaroshevich entrusted Alexander Shichkatakhik, a Kenaitze
fluent in Russian, to conduct baptism of infants.130 In Susitna, another Dena'ina
village, Nikolai Kuliktukta, also a full-blood, while still an "imperfect song leader,"
regularly read psalms and even asked permission to lead Sunday and holiday chapel
services.131 Bortnovsky specified:
For the lack of any appropriate candidates, I have to grant him this permission. Although a
slow reader, he reads in a correct manner and also understands something about church
singing. In any case, employing him will be better than simply locking the chapel, denying
local Kenaitze an opportunity of collective praying.132
Later Kuliktukta was also recommended for a schoolteacher position.133 In addition to these Dena'ina cultural brokers, mixed-blood Russian-Aleut/Alutiiq and
Russian-Dena'ina also served a similar role as readers, interpreters, and teachers
in Dena'ina villages.
In an Iliamna village, a Creole of Russian-AIutiiq-Dena' ina origin, Old William
Rickteroff, served as a reader. Breece, who worked there as a teacher, noted, "He
stood in place of a priest. The priest was supposed to come once every three years,
but at this time had not turned up for the past five."134 In an 1895 travel report
Modestov mentioned that another Rickteroff, named Mikhail, accompanied him
in his trips to the Dena'ina villages as an interpreter. Mikhail Rickteroff proved
fluent in Dena'ina, Yupik, Russian, and English. Incidentally, Modestov portrays
members of the Rickteroff family as influential leaders and cultural brokers in the
inland Dena'ina country. A Creole of Russian-Alutiiq origin, Savva Rickteroff,
the founder of the family, was a local RAC manager responsible for transporting
merchandise and various goods from Kenai to Nushagak. He established the Iliamna
trading post and started to build the St. Nicholas chapel in 1871. The post became
a gathering place for the local Dena'ina, who turned it into the Iliamna village.
Savva Rickteroff had two Indian wives, one legal and one illicit. In the 1890s, his
oldest son became a local agent for the ACC. Modestov noted that all the Rickteroff
brothers spoke Russian, English, and Dena'ina and that the family dominated the
church and administrative life of the Iliamna village.135
In Kenai, Pamfilov, of Russian-Alutiiq origin, acted as a reader and an interpreter, who regularly translated missionaries' sermons and prayers into the Dena'ina
119
language. Two Seldovian Creoles, Ivan Alexandrov and Zakhar Balashov, similarly did readings and interpreting, and in addition supervised the building of a
new chapel in 1891.I36 In 1902 Bortnovsky referred to another Creole, Ivan Soloviev,
as a "good catch." Soloviev accompanied the priest in his trips to the Dena'ina as
an interpreter for three years, earning one dollar per day. In addition to his work as
a language broker, Soloviev acted as a psalm reader. Bortnovsky also recommended
Ivan Kvasnikoff, one more person of mixed-blood origin (Russian-Alutiiq), from
the Ninilchik village for a position of schoolteacher among the Indians since
Kvasnikoff was fluent in Dena'ina and had been educated by Abbot Nicholas at
the Kenai school.137
Such interpreters and lay readers with only rudimentary Orthodox education
unavoidably gave their own creative spin to Russian Christianity. Mikhail Rickteroff
provides a good example. According to a missionary report, although Rickteroff
knew "rather well" how to read Old Church Slavonic and taught local children, he
performed chapel service and a baptism "in his own way" (the priest does not
specify how) and the missionary had to correct him.138 Breece provides a description of a sermon by Evanoff (of Russian-Jewish-Dena'ina origin), a village chief
in Nondalton:
On the important Russian religious holiday we all went to church in the village, even though
the rain was pouring torrentially as we made the three-mile trip up the lake in open boats.
This time the service was not silent. Zackar stepped out in front of the standing congregation and in Kenai preached a sermon. If his words were as eloquent as his expression and
gestures, it was an excellent sermon. Afterwards I asked him about it. He said that he had
been speaking this way in church, drawing upon truths from Bible, stories from the Sunday
school lessons and from the discussions and stories told among us in his tent.139
Students of the Dena'ina have commented on this rereading of Orthodoxy by the
Indians. For instance, Ellanna and Balluta write, "The delegation of liturgical responsibilities to lay readers promoted free personal interpretations of Russian Orthodoxy which corresponded to the needs of the Dena'ina Indians."140 Missionaries often attempted to downplay these inconsistencies by stressing that despite
their "ignorance," the Indians nevertheless prayed sincerely "with childish simplicity and deep belief to the Christian God.141
By the turn of the twentieth century the entire Dena'ina population formally
belonged to Orthodoxy, which became an intimate part of their religious and social life.142 The idea of the supreme deity had also already entrenched itself among
the Dena' ina and was identified by the Dena' ina word naq 'eltani or nakdeldani.143
Yet, although from the 1890s onward missionary accounts do not mention
shamanizing on a mass scale, clerics did indicate that this practice still existed on
a limited scale and as a matter of fact successfully coexisted with Christianity. It is
certainly difficult to expect detailed descriptions of these remnants of traditional
religion from missionaries, and the reports recorded few instances of direct "shamanistic challenges" to Christianity. Thus, Iaroshevich during his 1893 visit to the
120
Seldovia village during a vesper service had to speak about the evils of shamanism
"because recently shamans again became active among the Kenaitze." At the same
time, it seemed that not all residents in this village were eager to support these
medicine men. Those who were concerned about their activities approached the
missionary, asking him to denounce publicly this "disgusting business." Iaroshevich
claimed in his report that eventually one of the shamans apologized for his practice:
After the vespers I called for one shaman and started to persuade him to leave his shameful
trade. After my admonition he promised to quit shamanizing and added in particular: "Father, I am grateful to you for opening my eyes. Now I clearly see all misery of shamanism,
and since now on I will try to take care Qf my soul and will start to live in a Christian
manner." I imposed on him a church punishment, which he accepted willingly because he
knew that he deserved it.144
In the same year, during his trip to Laida, a small Dena'ina village of twenty
people, this missionary again had to confront two native medicine men. From
Iaroshevich's report it follows that despite their shamanizing both natives were
practicing Orthodox:
I told them about the punishment the church imposes on apostates from the holy faith, and
especially on those who call themselves Orthodox Christians and wear crosses, but at the
same time carry the name of shamans, servants of the devil, and confuse people, who so
rarely see priests. My words affected the shamans and they sincerely repented, and added
that they had shamanized exclusively for material profit, because people generously pay for
their magic. The shamans gave a firm promise not to shamanize anymore, and during the
vespers service they announced in public that they were not shamans anymore, and asked
people not to bother them with various requests, because they realized all the falsity of
shamanism, and from now on they wished to take care of their souls, since they were already in old age.145
Iaroshevich stressed that "all Kenaitze have been considered Orthodox Christians
for a long time," and wondered what prompted some of them to retain remnants of
their "old beliefs and delusions." Unable to understand the causes of native syncretism, he explained away the survival of shamanism as attempts of some old
people to gain material profit.
In his 1895 report Iaroshevich made special note of the general decline of shamanism among the Dena'ina, but acknowledged that traces of it still remained,
especially among the interior Dena'ina groups, which resided far from direct missionary influence.146 Modestov, who worked among these inland groups, while
praising them for their special love for chapels and Orthodox feasts, nevertheless
pointed to the survival of Dena'ina mourning rites: "Among the Kenaitze a heathen custom of commemorating the dead is not eradicated yet. These funeral rites
consist of dancing accompanied by a song, which praises the valor of the deceased
and oscillates between furious ecstasy and currents of tears."147 Furthermore, the
121
1904 minutes of the Kenai Brotherhood gatherings documented the debates over
the behavior of one disloyal member, Nikolai Chuklun, who had not lived "as an
Orthodox true believer," stopped showing up at the society's meetings and became
"involved in suspicious business, that is shamanism." Later, the brotherhood expelled him. As late as 1912 the priest Shadura also indirectly mentioned the existence of remnants of shamanism and found a surprising explanation for its survival
by pointing to the ravages of a famine among the Indians: "In the villages, which
are located farther from the mission, starvation made some natives turn back to
their shamanistic songs and dances in order to extract the last cents from their
working neighbors." Savva Stepan, a Dena'ina elder from the Tyonek village, also
indicated that as a young boy he encountered a shaman and witnessed his session
in Susitna at the end of the 1920s, long after Dena'ina became Orthodox, but he
stressed that it was a dying vocation.148
It may be assumed that acceptance of the formal and ritual sides of Orthodoxy
did not mean the total embracing of the Russian church. The Indians seem mostly
to have absorbed rituals matching traditional practice. At the same time, they rejected norms that contradicted their worldview. For instance, despite their insistent
efforts, missionaries could not impose a rigid Christian marriage policy. The marriage practices of the Dena'ina, a matrilineal society, displayed flexibility and were
governed by family agreement. Evidence suggests that the Indians widely practiced polygamy. Even brotherhood members, required to behave as "model natives," received reprimands for illicit affairs.149 In 1901, in Susitna Bortnovsky
unsuccessfully attempted to return to Stepan Mukakatakhan, an Orthodox Indian,
his runaway wife, Feodosiia, who had left him without getting a church divorce.
Meanwhile, Stepan found another woman and expressed the desire to be married
again and even asked the priest to perform an Orthodox marriage ceremony. The
missionary could not permit the second marriage without ending the first one.
Bortnovsky wrote to diocese officials asking the bishop to annul the first marriage
and allow the second, given the specific conditions of the Kenai area: "To postpone the marriage or to ask Stepan to come to Kenai to have a marriage ceremony
in the church is useless. In this case he will get along without any church marriage."150 Later, the bishop voided the previous marriage.
Church officials from Sitka reprimanded missionaries several times for permitting marriages of thirteen- and fourteen-year-old girls, a practice contrary to Orthodoxy but corresponding to traditional Dena'ina marriage patterns. Eventually,
the church seems to have closed its eyes to this obvious inconsistency. Missionaries also adjusted Orthodox practices to the Indian hunting and fishing cycles.
Bortnovsky informed Bishop Tikhon in Sitka that he had to sanctify the new marriages in June during his visits to the northern Dena'ina villages of Tyonek, Knik,
and Susitna, before all Indians went away for the fishing season, although this is
the time of Petr's fast, "when according to our church, marriages are not allowed."
Nevertheless, the priest complained that "in practice I have to break this rule."151
To some extent, the Orthodox church singing, funeral (Figure 3.5) and marriage
ceremonies, icons, ritual holding of willow branches and lit candles, and other
Figure 3.4. The old building of the Orthodox chapel in the Dena'ina village of Eklutna.
Photograph by the author, July 13, 1998.
Figure 3.5. Dena'ina Orthodox funeral ceremony, 1900. Photograph courtesy of the W. T.
Roberts' Album, the Anchorage Museum of History and Art (# B87.56.380).
123
elements of the Christian rituals could remind the natives of their own tradition,
especially during the beginning of their evangelization, when Russian Christianity
was not yet implanted into the indigenous tradition. Dzeniskevich indicates that
the Athapaskans may have viewed certain Russian church ceremonies, like funeral
services and communion to the sick, as "shamanistic seances/'152 Furthermore,
priests themselves as middlemen between the earthly world and the "world of
God" could be viewed as analogous to native medicine men and women. Anthropologists observed that the Christian cross played the role of a "magic artifact,"
representing an amulet responsible for general good fortune, specifically success
and safety in hunting, and as such echoed stone amulets that Dena'ina shamans
had used in the past.153 Orthodox services also were made relevant to hunting
rituals. Militov reported as early as the 1860s that before the Indians went off to
hunt mountain sheep, they regularly asked him to serve molebens, and he gladly
performed these services.154
Orthodoxy also could be used as "medicine" against epidemic diseases, which
frequently visited Dena'ina. Thus, during his 1890 visit to the Iliamna village
Shishkin agreed to perform a few ceremonies to chase away the disease, a practice
that as a matter of fact fit the Orthodox tradition:
Having finished a moleben to the Most Holy Lady Theotokes and St. Nicholas, at the request of the residents of the village we went with a cross by a religious procession [krestnii
khod] throughout the village. The religious procession with the cross was conducted in
order to prevent in future the epidemic disease that visited them in the fall of 1888 and
continued until February of 1889. During this period of time twenty-one people died from
this disease (it was an influenza).155
Another example of merging of Dena'ina and Russian religious traditions was
"spirit houses" (Figure 3.6), the small boxlike constructions on a grave site, with
the Russian Orthodox cross erected in front of the "door." For example, at the
abandoned Kijik village cemetery archeologists found more than one hundred threebarred Orthodox crosses from the turn of the century. Many of these crosses stood
or lay in front of the "spirit houses."156 The present-day archpriest Nicholas Harris,
referring to the endurance of this practice among the New Knik (Eklutna) natives,
stresses:
They are an Indian institution; the Orthodox church does not know of this in the way the
Indians do. In the case of the Eklutna Indians, the spirit houses bring together both traditions in their burial rites. They still have the aboriginal spirit house, but over the house is the
Orthodox Cross, which shows that the person buried there is a member of the Orthodox
church.157
The Russian tradition of commemorating the dead with feasts also seemed familiar to the Athapaskans who practiced the funeral potlatches. Characteristically,
the Dena'ina potlatch, which occupied central stage in their traditional ceremonialism, functioned primarily as a funeral rite.158 By the turn of the century, they
Figure 3.6. Remnants of old Dena'ina graves ("spirit houses") in the Knik area, September 10, 1936. Photograph
courtesy of the Agricultural Collection, Alaska and Polar Regions Archives, Rasmuson Library, University of Alaska
Fairbanks (# 68-4-441N).
125
apparently adopted the Orthodox mortuary rituals and abandoned the tradition of
burning the dead. For instance, natives adopted the Orthodox practice of commemorating the dead on the fortieth day. Ironically, Osgood, who visited the
Dena'ina in 1931-1932 and tried to locate remnants of "authentic" indigenous
culture described as "traditional" a Dena'ina belief that after the death of a person
his or her breath went up into the sky, "but the shadow spirit lingers for about forty
days before going underground."159 At the end of the nineteenth century the Kenai
Brotherhood introduced regular commemorations of its deceased members and
sacred pilgrimages to the brotherhood cemetery with full Orthodox regalia: icons,
banners, and candles. Bortnovsky left a colorful description of one of such ceremonies. On the occasion of an Orthodox feast in 1900, after a regular meeting of
the Kenai Brotherhood, its members took part in a funeral service dedicated to the
members who had passed away, followed by a liturgy. Then people knelt down for
a prayer to the Most Holy Virgin Mary: "During a church service all brotherhood
members stood and kept lighted candles. At the end of the service, long life and
many happy years were wished to the Russian Emperor, to the whole czar family
and to the President of the United States."l6()
Missionaries stressed the appeal of Orthodox singing to the Dena'ina. As early
as 1861 Abbot Nicholas stresses: "Kenaitze love to sing Easter verses and because
of their zeal they sing very loudly. But I do not restrain them, let them sing and
glorify our resurrected Savior."161 Anthropologists find partial explanation for this
fact in the significant role the Dena'ina attributed to "medicine songs" and "lucky
songs," which brought hunting success and a long life.162 The way Dena'ina oral
tradition describes the use of the Orthodox "medicine power" also illustrates a
native rereading of Russian Christianity. The legend about the bear on a rampage
and "holy bullets," which was mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, is a good
example. In addition, elders of Nondalton like to tell stories about a priest who
used holy water in order to get rid of a monster that lived in a pond in the vicinity
of the abandoned Kijik village. According to this story, after a cleric threw holy
water into the pond, people heard a great noise at night, and the ground was rent in
this place. Both water and the monster were gone.163 Last but not least, the Orthodox principle of charity, which found its expression in the activities of the Christian brotherhood, also matched traditional Dena'ina ideas of caring for the weak
and disabled.
Despite numerous inconsistencies, the relative easiness with which the Dena'ina
incorporated elements of Orthodoxy into their culture flattered missionaries. In
their reports clerics constructed a favorable image of the Dena'ina as "sincere and
ignorant children" eager to be enlightened. Thus, in 1895 during his visit to Iliamna
Modestov, who rarely visited this village, was pleasantly surprised when he found
out that many natives knew major prayers: "It turned out that all adults and adolescent boys and girls know all basic prayers. The chapel reader, Mikhail Rickteroff,
reads quite well and also teaches local children. I showed him the sequence and
order of the church service and explained how to baptize children."164
126
The missionary reports also provided numerous references to the "urgent requests" and "appeals" by the Dena'ina to send them missionaries. For example, in
1892 residents of Tyonek, Susitna, and Knik asked Mitropolsky to give them church
readers, but the priest refused them because of the lack of funds.165 Moreover,
these accounts, despite all the biases and exaggerations, note that many Indians
excluded from the Kenai Brotherhood for various violations of the by-laws, such
as drinking, polygamy, and nonpayment of dues, often asked to be admitted again.
Even the Dena'ina's neighbors the Athna Indians, who barely had contact with
Orthodoxy, expressed a desire to have missionaries. This suggests that the Ahtna
had now apparently found something in Orthodoxy that sounded attractive. It appears that one of their motives might have been simply a desire to accept conversion for trade purposes: the Ahtna depended very much on trading posts in Knik
and Tyonek, where they regularly came in winter and stayed in Dena'ina's dwellings. Incidentally, during Ahtna baptisms, Dena'ina usually acted as their godparents. In April of 1900, Hiermonk Antonii wrote, "Today with the arrival of the ship
St. Paul I was forwarded a petition from the tribe of the Mednovsty [Russian name
for the Athna], who live on the Copper River. More than four hundred of them
expressed a desire to be baptized and accept the Orthodox religion. These
Mednovsty ask for a chapel and a school."166
Dena'ina oral tradition also provided another example of the natives' interest in
Orthodoxy. In the 1980s Nondalton elders still recalled how in the 1890s a young
native couple from the upper Stony River spent considerable time in an attempt to
find a priest to marry them according to the Orthodox ritual. Trying to locate the
cleric, they made a long journey, during which they visited several native villages
but failed to locate the missionary.167 These and comparable accounts significantly
challenge the argument that Orthodoxy was imposed on the Indians, especially
with respect to the second half of the nineteenth century.168
In the situation of rapid economic and cultural changes of Dena'ina society, the
"medicine power" of the Russian church could be helpful as traditional religious
and social leaders proved unable to find "medication" against economic and social
instability. The search for powerful remedies obviously prompted the natives to
put their customary worldview in new clothing, tinged with Orthodox colors. As a
result, in the beginning of the twentieth century the indigenous version of Christianity became firmly established among the Dena'ina, who turned it into popular
Orthodoxy. The evidence also suggests that in addition to their spiritual role, the
church institutions were also used by the Dena'ina people to fill the vacuum of
social and administrative power in the wake of the demise of Russian and indigenous structures after the Alaska purchase in 1867. As a result, between the 1890s
and the 1920s, Orthodox brotherhoods occupied a noticeable place in native social
and political life before the United States federal government finally established
an effective legal and administrative system throughout Alaska, which replaced
these societies as semiformal agents of local power in the 1930s and 1940s.
Dena'ina interactions with Russian Christianity demonstrate the behavior of an
indigenous group that had to reexamine its tradition as a result of dramatic eco-
111
nomic and social changes. The Dena'ina demonstrated a readiness to borrow elements of Orthodox church ritual and organization, which allowed them to build
the bridge to the new American society. Before the 1880s, Russian Christianity
had played a marginal role in their worldview, but under the new circumstances
they used Orthodoxy as a convenient device to reinforce their identity before the
advancing Protestant culture of the white majority.
Orthodoxy played such an important role that it eventually became identified
with Dena'ina culture as a whole. Thus, Old Church Slavonic was accepted by the
Dena'ina for their church services and continued to exist as an integral part of
native Orthodoxy until the 1940s and 1950s, when it became combined with English. It appears that, as with some other indigenous groups in Alaska, Church
Slavonic started functioning among the Dena'ina as an "indigenous" sociolinguistic
symbol of their ethnic identity. It is also interesting that in 1910-1911 the Dena' ina
claimed that they had Bible stories long before the Russians came.169 Moreover,
when Osgood visited them two decades later and tried to retrieve some "traditional" cosmogonie or creation stories he was frustrated that many of his Dena'ina
informants gave him "as pure Indian" slightly tarnished Mosaic tradition.170
Present-day testimonies of native elders point in the same direction. For example,
the Nondalton community elders in the 1980s and 1990s spoke about the Russian
Orthodoxy as part of their native tradition, and elders from the Cook Inlet area
referred to Orthodoxy as "our church" or "Athabascan Church, Russian Orthodox." Even those Dena'ina who do not go to church on a regular basis affiliate
themselves with this denomination when they generalize about their ethnicity.171
NOTES
1. The Kustatan Bear Story: Qezdeghnen Ggagga, told by Maxim Chickalusion, Sr.,
trans, into Dena'ina by Peter Kalifornsky, ed. Alice Taff and Jim Kari (Fairbanks: Alaska
Native Language Center, University of Alaska, 1982), 13-14.
2. Ibid., 17; see also Peter Kalifornsky's version in Peter Kalifornsky, A Dena 'ina Legacy:
K'tl'egh'i Sukdu. The Collected Writings of Peter Kalifornsky, ed. James Kari and Alan
Boras (Fairbanks: Alaska native Language Center, University of Alaska, 1991), 297-299.
3. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Kenaiskaia Missiia (Istoriko-Statisticheskoe Opisanie)," RussianAmerican Orthodox Messenger-2, no. 18 (1898): 533; Hiermonk Anatolii, "Iz Puteshestviia
po Aliaske v 1896 G. Blagochinnago Missionera Ieromonakha Anatoliia," ibid. 1, no. 13
(1897): 268.
4. Joan Broom Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina"
(Ph.D. diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 1965); Galina I. Dzeniskevich, Atapaski
Aliaski: Ocherki Materialnoi i Dukhovnoi Kultury: Konets XVllI-Nachalo XX V (Leningrad:
Nauka, 1987); Victoria Schnurer, 'The Russian Experience," Orthodox Alaska 5, no. 3-4
(1974): 16-33; Linda J. Ellanna and Andrew Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana: The People of
Nondalton (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 291-300.
128
5. James Kari and James A. Fall, "The Russian Presence in Upper Cook Inlet," in Shem
Pete's Alaska: the Territory of the Upper Cook Inlet Dena 'ina (Fairbanks and Anchorage:
Alaska Native Language Center, University of Alaska, CIRI Foundation, 1987), 16.
6. Andrei V. Grinev, "Russkie Promishlenniki na Aliaske v Kontse XVIII V., Nachalo
Deiatelnosti A. A. Baranova," in Istoriia RusskoiAmeriki, 1732-1867, ed N. N. Bolkhovitinov
(Moskva: Mezhdunarodnie Otnosheniia, 1997), vol. 1, 154-155.
7. Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," (Ph.D. diss., University of
Wisconsin, Madison, 1981), 71; L. A. Sitnikov, "Materialy dlia Istorii Russkoi Ameriki
("Otvety" Filippa Kashevarova)," in Novie Materialy po Istorii Sibiri Dosovetskogo Perioda,
d. N. N. Pokrovskii (Novosibirsk: Nauka Sibirskoe Otdelenie, 1986), 101.
8. Aleksandr I. Andreev, Russian Discoveries in the Pacific and in North America in the
Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries: A Collection of Materials (Ann Arbor, MI: J. W.
Edwards, 1952), 107.
9. Petr A. Tikhmenev, A History of the Russian-American Company (Seattle: University
of Washington Press, 1978), 46.
10. Grinev, "Russkie Promishlenniki na Aliaske v Kontse XVIII V," 192; Tikhmenev,
History of the Russian-American Company, 16-17; Hubert Howe Bancroft, History ofAlaska,
1730-1885 (Irvine, CA: Reprint Services Corp., 1990; reprint, San Francisco: A. L. Bancroft
&Co., 1886), 228.
11. Tikhmenev, History of the Russian-American Company, 96.
12. Ibid., 130.
13. Alice J. Lynch, Qizhjeh: The Historic Tanaina Village ofKijik and the Archeological
District (Fairbanks: Anthropology and Historic Preservation Cooperative Park Studies Unit,
University of Alaska, 1982), 7.
14. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 226.
15. The government granted the RAC permission to found special agricultural settlements in 1835. Semen B. Okun, The Russian-American Company (New York: Octagon
Books, 1979), 174.
16. Tikhmenev, History of the Russian-American Company, 416.
17. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 2nd sen, vol. 19, no. 18290, 247;
"Visochaishe Utverzhdennii 10 Okriabria 1844 Goda Ustav Rossiisko-Amerikanskoi
Kompanii," in Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii: Pozdnie Pervobitnie i
Predklassovie Obshchestva Severa Evropeiskoi Rossii, Sibiri i Russkoi Ameriki, ed. Yu. I.
Semenov (Moskva: Starii Sad, 1998), 218.
18. Okun, Russian-American Company, 206.
19. Svetlana G. Fedorova, The Population of Russian America (1799-1867): The Russian Population of Alaska and California (Fairbanks: Institute of Social, Economic and
Government Research, University of Alaska, 1973), 200; Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina
Leadership, 1741-1918," 70; Gavriil I. Davydov, Two Voyages to Russian America, 18021807 (Kingston, Ont.: Limestone Press, 1977), 199.
20. Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 218.
21. Ibid., 75.
22. Alexander Iaroshevich, "Putevoi Zhurnal Kenaiskago Missionera Sviashchennika
Alexandra Iaroshevicha," PravoslavnyiBlagoviestnik, no. 20 ( 1894): 186; "Tyonek, February 13/25, 1885" Vladimir Vasiliev Stafeev Papers (1869-1895), Manuscript Collection,
Alaska State Historical Library, Juneau.
129
23. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Iz Putevogo Zhurnala Sviashchennika Kenaiskoi Missii I.

Bortnovskago za 1898 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 3, no. 19 (1899):
513; Ioann Bortnovsky to Hiermonk Anatolii, "Pochtitelneishii Raport," September 19,
1896, Church Buildings, Repairs, New Assumption Church School, 1882-1900, ARCA,
roll 181.
24. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 227-228.
26. Ibid., 83.
27. Petroff, Population and Resources of Alaska, 35-36.
29. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Zimovka Pravoslavnago Missionera v Kenaiskom Selenii Knik,"
Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 2, no. 20 (1898): 583.
30. Townsend, "Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina " 63.
31. Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 84-85, 293; Townsend,
"Ethnohistory and Culture Change of the Iliamna Tanaina," 63. See also Robert E. Ackerman,
The Kenaitze People (Phoenix, AZ: Indian Tribal Series, 1975), 72; Hannah Breece, A School
Teacher in Old Alaska, ed. with commentary by Jane Jacobs (New York: Random House,
1995), 99. However, Ellanna and Balluta do not agree with such statements. They argue
that documents of the Alaska Commercial Company indicate that prices fluctuated rather
than declined. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 231. At the same time, this correction does not change the whole picture of the radical reshaping of the Dena'ina nineteenth-century economy and social patterns as a result of the changes wrought by the rise of
commercialism and the influx of the Americans. In their recent study of the Dena'ina responses to the changes caused by the Euroamerican advancement at the turn of the century,
Alan Boraas and Donita Peter stress (in my view, correctly) that not the elimination of game
animals in itself, but the whole transformation of native cosmological order was responsible for the changes in the Dena'ina world view. Alan S. Boras and Donita Peter, "The True
Believer among the Kenai Peninsula Dena'ina," in Adventures through Time: Readings in
the Anthropology of Cook Inlet, Alaska, ed. Nancy Y. Davis and William E. Davis (Anchorage, AK: Cook Inlet Historical Society, 1996), 191.
32. Louise Potter, A Study of a Frontier Town in Alaska, Wasilla to 1959 (VT: Thetford
Center, 1963), 7, 10; Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 98.
35. Andrew Balluta, "The Dena'ina of Kijik and Lake Clark National Park and Preserve,"
in Russia in North America, ed. Richard P. Pierce (Kingston, Ontario: The Limestone Press,
1990), 43.
37. Ioann Bortnovsky to Hiermonk Antonii, "Pochtitelneishii Raport," March 29, 1899,
Seldovia, School Building, Nikolai Baiu, 1899, ARCA, roll 202.
38. Alexander Iaroshevich to District Judge Warren Truitt, "Pokorneishaia Zhaloba,"
ARCA, roll 201 ; "Copy of Petition of Twenty-Three Kenai People to District Judge Warren
Truitt, 1895," DRHA, roll 1, vol. 2, 177-179.
39. U.S. Department of the Treasury. Special Agents Division, Report upon the Customs
District, Public Service, and Resources of Alaska Territory (Washington, DC: Government
Printing Office, 1879), 133-135; Schnurer, "Russian Experience," 23,25; William R. Hunt,
130
Shamanism and
Christianity
Distant Justice: Policing the Alaska Frontier (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987).
Alexandra Iaroshevicha," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 19 (1894): 123.
41. Ibid., no. 8 (1896): 375; Hiermonk Anatolii, "IzOtchetao PoezdkedliaBlagochinnoi
Revizii Prikhodov Kenaiskago, Kadiakskago, Afognakskago i Nuchekskago Letom
Tekushchago Goda 1898," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 3, no. 3 (1899): 94.
42. Ioann Bortnovsky to Antonii, March 12, 1901, Kenai Peninsula, Seldovia, Reports/
Records, Ioann Bortnovsky, Alcoholism among Inhabitants, ARCA, roll 201.
43. Vladimir Modestov to Alexander Kedrovski, June 29, 1895, ARCA, roll 149.
44. Shishkin to Bishopt Nestor, "Nizhaishii Raport."
45. "Viedomost Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi s Pokazaniem
Prinadlezhashchikh k Onoi Molitvennikh Domov, Selenii, Razstoianie Selenii i Molitvennikh
Domov ot Tserkvi pri Kakom Ozer ili Rek i Skolko Zhitelei po Natsionalnostiam za 1878
God," Nushagak, Reports/Records, Vasilii Shishkin, ARCA, roll 149; "Viedomost PetroPavlovskoi Tserkvi, Nushagakskoi Missii o Liudiakh Byvshikh i Ne Byvshikh u Sviatogo
Prichastiia, Rodivshiksiia, Miropomazannikh, Brakosochetavshikhsiia i Umershikh v 1915
Godu," Nushagak, Vital Statistics, Separate Reports, 1876-1918, Ibid., roll 150.
46. Lynch, Qizhjeh, 10, 76; Balluta, "Dena'ina of Kijik and Lake Clark National Park
and Preserve," 41.
47. Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina," 13;
Schnurer, "Russian Experience," 25; Modestov to Alexander Kedrovski, June 29, 1895;
Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 100. See also the dispatch about
the death of twenty-nine Dena'ina children in the Kenai parish during one single year.
Hiermonk Nikitato the Alaska Ecclesiastical Consistory, May 1885, Travel Journal, Nikita
Marchenkov, 1881-1885, ARCA, roll 201. By 1893 Vladimir Donskoi, the dean of clergy,
provided the following information about the number of residents in Dena'ina villages:
Kenai village, including Creoles, is fifty-five people, Seldovia is seventy-three natives, the
Kustatan village is forty-nine residents. The most numerous were Tyonek village (107
people), Susitna village (140 people) and Knik village (156 people). Vladimir Donskoi,
"Otchet o Sostoianii Tserkvei i Chasoven Kenaiskoi, Kodiakskoi i Belkovskoi za 1893
God," Kenai Peninsula, Reports/Records, Vladimir Donskoi, ARCA, roll 201. In 1896 the
inland Denaina population numbered 151 people. "Viedomost o Kolichestve Prikhozhan i
Vsekh Zhitelei Muzhskago, Zhenskago i Oboikh Polov po Plemenam i po Zvaniam, po
Nushagakskoi Petropavlovskoi Missionerskoi Tserkvi za 1896 God," Nushagak, Vital Statistics, Separate Reports, ARCA, roll 150. This gives us the total number of the Dena'ina
population, including some Creoles, as 732 people between 1893 and 1895.
49. Hiermonk Anatolii, "Iz Puteshestviia po Aliaske v 1896 G. Blagochinnago Missionera
Ieromonakha Anatoliia," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 1, no. 11 (1897): 208;
Pavel Shadura to Bishop Alexander, "Kratkii Otchet o Sostoianii Prikhoda Kenaiskoi Missii
za 1920 God," February 7, 1921, Reports/Records, Pavel Shadura, 1909-1923, ARCA, roll
201.
51. Vasilii Shishkin to Bishop Vladimir, June 5, 1889, Travel Journals, Vasilii Vasiliev
Shishkin, 1877-1893, ARCA, roll 149; "Spisok Zhitelei Seleniia Iliamna" Vital Statistics,
Nushagak, 1876-1918, ARCA, roll 150.
131
52. Alan S. Boraas and Donita Peter, "The True Believer among the Kenai Peninsula
Dena'ina" 192.
53. James W. VanStone, Athapaskan Adaptations: Hunters and Fishermen of the Subarctic Forest (Chicago: Aldine, 1974), 125; Joan Townsend, "The Tanaina of Southwestern
Alaska: A Historical Synopsis," Western Canadian Journal of Anthropology 2, no. 1(1970):
8,15.
54. Schnurer, "Russian Experience," 27.
56. See the ecclesiastical order about the consecration of the Kenai church: "Ukaz iz
Novo-Arkhangelskago Dukhovnago Pravleniia Kenaiskomu Missioneru Nikolaiu," June
11,1849, Buildings-Property, Church Buildings, Assumption Church, Consecration, ARCA,
roll 181.
57. Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 75. Ellanna and Balluta
indicated that after the epidemic the activities of the Russian missionaries among the Dena'ina
intensified. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 294.
58. "Report of Bishop Innokenty to the Holy Ruling Synod, # 153," January 31, 1845;
and "Report of Bishop Innokenty to the Holy Ruling Synod, Novo-Arkhangelsk," November 28, 1852, DRHA, vol. 1, 354-356, roll 1.
59. "Kopiiia Ispovedalnoi Rospisi Kenaiskoi Missii za 1847 God," and "Viedomost Skolko
Kakova Zvaniia Prikhozhan Kenaiskoi Missii Nalichnikh v 1851 Godu," Parish Records
Confessional List, 1849-1858, ARCA, roll 196.
60. "Klirovaia Viedomost Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi na 1857,"
Parish Records, Clergy/Church/Register, St. Peter and Paul Church, ARCA, roll 143;
"Viedomost Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi na 1858," "Viedomost
Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi na 1860," "Viedomost Nushagakskoi
Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi na 1862," "Viedomost Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi
Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi na 1867," Parish Records, Confessional List, 1857-1868, ARCA,
roll 146.
61. Igumen Nikolai [Militov], "Iz Zhurnala Kenaiskogo Missionera Igumena Nikolaia,
Nikolaevskii Redut, 1862 God," Pravoslavnoe Obozrienie 24 (1867): 8. In his diary for
1863, he noted that the Kenai deacon had regularly visited a Dena'ina woman in one neighboring village to change her bandage. Igumen Nikolai [Militov], "Zhurnal Kenaiskogo
Missionera Igumena Nikolaia, Nikolaevskii Redut, 1863 God," Travel Journal, Nikolai
Militov, 1858-1864, ARCA, roll 201.
62. Idem, "Iz Zhurnala Kenaiskogo Missionera Igumena Nikolaia, Nikolaevskii Redut,
1862 God," 6.
63. Joan Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina:
Cook Inlet, Alaska," Arctic Anthropology 11, no. 1 ( 1974): 9; Igumen Nikolai [Militov], "Iz
Zhurnala Kenaiskogo Missionera Igumena Nikolaia, Nikolaevskii Redut, 1863 God," in
Russkaia Amerika: PoLichnym Vpechatleniiam Messionerov, Zemleprokhodtsev, Moriakov,
Issledovatelei i Drugikh Ochevidtsev (Moskva: Mysl, 1994), 236.
64. Ivan Veniaminov, Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago. 18281878, ed. Ivan Barsukov (St. Petersburg: Sinodalnaia Tipografiia, 1897), vol. 1, 371.
65. Igumen Nikolai [Militov], Vipiska iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena
Nikolaia s 1858 po 1862 God (Moskva: n. p., 1863), 11.
66. Idem: Vipiska iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena Nikolaia s 1858 po 1862
y 16.
132
Shamanism and
Christianity
67. Militov, "Iz Zhurnala Kenaiskogo Missionera Igumena Nikolaia, Nikolaevskii Redut,
1863 God," 239.
68. Fedorova, The Population of Russian America, 265.
69. Donskoi, "Otchet o Sostoianii Tserkvei i Chasoven Kenaiskoi, Kodiakskoi i Belkovskoi
za 1893 God."
70. Hiermonk Nikita to Bishop Nestor, April 15,1882, Travel Journal, Nikita Marchenkov,
1881-1885, ARCA, roll 201; Nikita Marchenkov, "Iz Putevikh Zapisok Kenaiskago
Missionera Iermonakha Nikiti za 1881 G.," ibid.; Kenai Peninsula, Conversion Reports,
Shamanism, Nikita Marchenkov, 1883, ibid., roll 182.
71. Kenai Peninsula, Conversion Reports, Shamanism, Nikita Marchenkov, 1883;
Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina," 12.
72. Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina," 12.
73. Kenai Peninsula, Conversion Reports, Shamanism, Nikita Marchenkov, 1883.
74. "Tyonek, December 1884-January 1885," Vladimir Vasiliev Stafeev Papers.
75. "Viedomost Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi Tserkvi s Pokazaniem
Prinadlezhashchikh k Onoi Molitvennikh Domov, Selenii, Razstoianie Selenii i Molitvennikh
Domov ot Tserkvi pri Kakom Ozer ili Rek i Skolko Zhitelei po Natsionalnostiam za 1878
God"; Vasilii Shishkin to Bishop Nestor, "Nizhaishii Raport," April 24, 1882," Nushagak,
Reports/Records, Vasilii Shishkin, ARCA, roll 149.
76. Ioann Krilianovski, "V Aliaskinskoe Dukhovnoe Pravlenie, Chlena Sego Pravleniia
Diakona Ioanna Krilianovskago Dikladnaia Zapiska," February 7, 1880, Kodiak Island and
Kenai Peninsula, Travel Reports, ARCA, roll 181.
77. "V Aliaskinskoe Dukhovnoe Pravlenie, Zhitelei Vsego Kenaiskago Zaliva Proshenie,"
May 20, 1878, Diocese Administration, Request for Priest, ARCA, roll 182.
78. Hiermonk Nikita to Bishop Nestor, April 15, 1882; "Report of Hiermonk Nikita of
Kenai to the Alaska Ecclesiastical Consistory," May 28, 1884, DRHA, roll 1, vol. 1, 357.
Alexandra Iaroshevicha," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 19 (1894): 120-121.
80. Nikolai Mitropolsky, "Kniga o Vnov' Prisoedinennikh v Kenaiskoi Missii za 1888-oi
God," Kenai Peninsula, Conversion Reports, Shamanism, Nikolai Mitropolsky, 1888, ARCA,
roll 182. Donskoi, however, indicates that Mitropolsky converted eighty-eight Ahtna.
Donskoi, "Otchet o Sostoianii Tserkvei i Chasoven Kenaiskoi, Kodiakskoi i Belkovskoi za
1893 God"
81. Dzeniskevich, Atapaski Aliaski, 119.
82. Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina," 16;
Schnurer, "Russian Experience," 27.
83. Nikolai Mitropolsky to the Alaska Ecclesiastical Consistory, March 1889, Reports/
Records, Nikolai Mitropolsky, 1888-1892, ARCA, roll 201.
84. Bortnovsky, "Zimovka Pravoslavnago Missionera v Kenaiskom Selenii Knik," 583.
See also about this story in a special article about Old and New Knik: Michael R. Yarborough,
"'A Village Which Sprang up before My Very Eyes': An Historical Account of the Found
ing of Eklutna," in Adventures through Time: Readings in the Anthropology of Cook Inlet,
Alaska, ed. Nancy Yaw Davis and William E. Davis (Anchorage, AK: Cook Inlet Historical
Society, 1996), 111-122.
85. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Putevoi Zhurnal Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1900
God, Kenai, Aliaska," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 5, no. 15 (1901): 322.
133
86. Ibid. 5, no. 13 (1901): 275.

87. "Viedomost o Tserkvi Sviatikh Apostolov Petra i Pavla Nushagakskoi Missii, Chto
Pri reke Nushagak v Aleksandrovskom Redute, na Materike Poluostrova Aliaska Aleutskoi
Eparkhii za 1910 God," Nushagak, Parish Records Church/Clergy Registers, St. Peter and
Paul Church, ARCA, roll 144; "Viedomost Nushagakskoi Missionerskoi Petropavlovskoi
Tserkvi s Pokazaniem Prinadlezhashchikh k Onoi Molitvennikh Domov, Selenii, Razstoianie
Selenii i Molitvennikh Domov ot Tserkvi pri Kakom Ozere ili Reke i Skolko Zhitelei po
Natsionalnostiam za 1878 God." At the same time, Modestov indicated that the chapel was
built in 1871 by Savva Rickteroff. Vladimir Modestov, "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal za 1895
God, No. 181," July 1894 to June 1895, Nushagak, Reports/Records, Vladimir Modestov,
ARCA, roll 144.
88. Alexander Iaroshevich to Vladimir Donskoi, August 2, 1893, Reports/Records,
Alexander Iaroshevich, ARCA, roll 201.
89. "Viedomost o Tserkvi Sviatikh Apostolov Petra i Pavla v Aleksandrovskom Redute
na Materike Aliaske za 1894 God," Parish Records, Church/Clergy Registers, Sts. Peter and
Paul Church, 1862-1895, ARCA, roll 144.
90. Lynch, Qizhjeh, 80.
91. Anatolii, "Iz Puteshestviia po Aliaske v 1896 G. Blagochinnago Missionera
Ieromonakha Anatoliia," 208.
93. Vladimir Modestov, "Tserkovno-Istoricheskoe Opisanie Nushagakskoi Missii
Aleutskoi Eparkhii," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 1, no. 15 (1897): 304.
94. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Iz Putevogo Zhurnala Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za
1901 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 6, no. 12 (1902): 268; Nikolai
Mitropolsky to Bishop Nikolai, "Pochtitelneishii Raport," September 7, 1892, Reports/
Records, Nikolai Mitropolsky, ARCA, roll 201.
95. Dzeniskevich, Atapaski Aliaski, 90, 109.
96. For more about the origin of these brotherhoods see Constantance J. Tarasar and John
H. Erickson, eds., Orthodox America, 1794-1976: Development of the Orthodox Church in
America (Syosset, NY: Department of History and Archives, Orthodox Church in America,
1975), 113-117.
97. Missionary sources usually shorten the name of this society as Kenai Holy Protection
Brotherhood (Kenaiskoe Sviato-Pokrovskoe Bratstvo).
98. "Godovoi Otchet Kenaiskago Bratstva vo Imia Pokrova Presviatoi Bogoroditsi za
1895 God," Brotherhood, Meetings and Yearly Reports, ARCA, roll 181.
99. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Viedomost o Khramakh, Chasovniakh i Tserkviakh za 1900, No.
8," Brotherhood, Cumulative, 1900-1907, ARCA, roll 181. The number of brotherhood
members varied. Whereas the biggest society in Kenai numbered up to 150 people in 1902,
St. Innocent Brotherhood in Tyonek had only 20 members. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Putevoi
Zhurnal Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1902 God," Russian-American Orthodox
Messenger 1, no. 12 (1903): 203; Serafim A. Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii:
Ocherk o Russkikh Dukhovnykh Missiiakh (St. Petersburg: Izd. P. P. Soikina, 1899), 199.
100. "Zakony Tserkovnago Bratstva Pokrova Presviatoi Bogoriditsi v Selenii Kenai
Territorii Alaska, Soedinennikh Shtatov Ameriki " ARCA, roll 181.
101. Neither did the society have gender restrictions. There were examples when women
became heads of brotherhoods; during the 1901 elections of a brotherhood chair in the
Seldovia village members chose a Creole woman, Lubov Berestova, a "very serious and
134
reliable person," according to a missionary report. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Putevoi Zhurnal

Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1900 God, Kenai, Aliaska" Russian-American
Orthodox Messenger 5, no. 17 (1901): 366.
102. Idem, "Iz Putevogo Zhurnala Sviashchennika Kenaiskoi Missii I. Bortnovskago za
1898 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 3, no. 22 (1899): 597.
1895 God, Bratskii Zhurnal No. 445," Meetings and Yearly Reports, 1895-1905, ARCA,
roll 181.
104. Arkhangelov, Nashi Zagranichnyia Missii, 199; "Kenaiskoe Sviato-Pokrovskoe
Bratstvo v 1902 Godu," Brotherhood, Meetings and Yearly Reports, ARCA, roll 181;
"Godovoi Otchet Kenaskago Sviato-Pokrovskago Bratstva s 1-go Okriabria 1901 Goda po
1-oe Oktiabria 1902 Goda," ibid.; "Godovoi Otchet Kenaiskago Bratstva vo Imia Pokrova
Presviatoi Bogoroditsi za za 1895 God," ibid'
1900 God " Brotherhood, Meetings and Yearly Reports, ARCA, roll 181 ; "Kenaiskoe SviatoPokrovskoe Bratstvo za 1899-1900 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 4, no.
23 (1900): 470.
106. "Bratskii Zhurnal No. 445," Brotherhood, Meetings and Yearly Reports, ARCA, roll
181.
107. "Pravila Kenaiskago Sviato-Nikolaevskago Obshchestva Trezvosti," February 22,
1906, Kenai Peninsula, Brotherhood, St. Nicholas Temperance Society, ARCA, roll 181.
108. "Spisok Sv. Nikolaevskago Obshchestva Trezvosti v Seldevskom Selenenii,"
Seldovia, Brotherhood, Tempereance Society, 1907, ARCA, roll 202.
109. "Protokoly Zasedanii Sviato-Nikolaevskago Obshchestva Trezvosti," Kenai Peninsula, Brotherhood, St. Nicholas Temperance Society, ARCA, roll 181.
110. Iaroshevich to Vladimir Donskoi, August 2, 1893.
111. Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 255; Cornelius Osgood,
Ethnography of the Tanaina (New Haven: Human Relations Area Files Press, 1976), 132.
113. Ibid., 272.
115. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 272, 278, 300, 231.
116. Breece, School Teacher in Old Alaska, 126.
117. Fall, "Patterns of Upper Tanaina Leadership, 1741-1918," 220, 254-256, 358.
118. Iaroshevich, "Putevoi Zhurnal Kenaiskago Missionera Sviashchennika Alexandra
Iaroshevicha," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 19 (1984): 122; Townsend, "Journals of
Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina," 19; Hiermonk Anatolii to Ioann
Bortnovsky, June 29,1896, Buildings-Property, Repairs, New Assumption Church, School,
1882-1909, ARCA, roll 181.
119. Vladimir Modestov, "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal," July 17, 1894, to June 30, 1895,
Nushagak, Reports/Records, Vladimir Modestov, ARCA, roll 144.
120. Ioann Bortnovsky, "Putevoi Zhurnal Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1900
God, Kenai, Aliaska," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 5, no. 13(1901 ): 276; 5, no.
17 (1901): 365; Townsend, "Journals of Nineteenth Century Russian Priests to the Tanaina,"
22.
135
121. Ioann Bortnovsky to Bishop Innokentii, "Nizhaishii Raport," May 30,1907, Seldovia,
Clergy/Appointments, Ivan Aleksandrov, 1907, ARCA, roll 202.
122. Ioann Bortnovsky to Bishop Innokentii, May 20, 1907, Clergy Miscellaneous, Rewards to Assistants, 1852-1907, ARCA, roll 182.
123. "Ukaz iz Novoarkhangelskago Dukhovnago Pravleniia Kenaiskoi Missii Igumenu
Nikolaiu, Otvet na Predstavlenie ot Sentiabria 1851 Goda o Nagrazhdenii Toiona Vasiliia
Kistakhina za Userdnoe Sodeistvie k Obrashcheniiu i Polozhitelnii Nadzor nad Seleniami
Tuzemtsev," November 22,1852, Clergy Miscellaneous, Rewards to Assistants, 1852-1907,
ARCA, roll 182.
124. Bortnovsky to Hiermonk Anatolii, September 27,1896; Ioann Bortnovsky to Bishop
Innokentii, May 20,1907, Clergy Miscellaneous, Rewards to Assistants, 1852-1907, ARCA,
roll 182.
125. "V Kenae," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 1, no. 5 (1896): 80; Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 3, no. 22 (1896): 288.
126. Ibid.
127. Bortnovsky, "Zimovka Pravoslavnago Missionera v Kenaiskom Selenii Knik," 586;
Aleksei Ivanov to Ioann Bortnovsky, "Nizhaishee Proshenie," July 28, 1896, Tyonek, Buildings-Property, Chapel Needed, 1896, ARCA, roll 203.
128. "Udostoverenie," March 28,1899, Kenai Parish, Seldovia, Buildings Property, School
Building, Nikolai Baiu; Ioann Bortnovsky to Hiermonk Antonii, "Pochtitelneishii Raport,"
29 March, 1899, ARCA, roll 202.
129. Bortnovsky, "Zimovka Pravoslavnago Missionera v Kenaiskom Selenii Knik," 584.
131. Bortnovsky, "Kenaiskaia Missiia (Istoriko-Statisticheskoe Opisanie)," 531.
132. Idem, "Putevoi Zhurnal Sviashchennikaloanna Bortnovskago za 1899 God, Kenai,
Aliaska," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger A, no. 9 (1900): 183.
133. Ivanov to Ioann Bortnovsky, "Nizhaishee Proshenie."
135. Modestov, "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal" July 17, 1894, to June 30, 1895.
136. Mitropolsky to Bishop Nikolai, "Pochtitelneishii Raport," September 7, 1892.
137. Bortnovsky, "Iz Putevogo Zhurnala Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1901
God," 263; idem, "Putevoi Zhurnal Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1902 God,"
224; idem, "Putevoi Zhurnal Sviashchennika Ioanna Bortnovskago za 1900 God, Kenai,
Aliaska," 321 ; Ioann Bortnovsky to Arkhimandrite Anatolii, "Pochtitelneishii Raport," August
20, 1897, Brotherhood, Correspondence, 1894-1905, ARCA, roll 181.
138. Modestov, "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal," July 17, 1894 to June 30, 1895.
139. Breece, School Teacher in Old Alaska, 126, 151-152.
141. Ioann Bortnovsky to Hiermonk Antonii "Pokomeishii Raport," May 24,1900, Church
Buidings, Conditions of, 1900-1903, ARCA, roll 181.
142. Ellanna and Balluta point out that by the early 1900s the eradication of shamanism
and paganism was complete. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 299.
144. Iaroshevich, "Putevoi Zhurnal Kenaiskago Missionera Sviashchennika Alexandra
Iaroshevicha," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 19(1894): 120-121.
145. Ibid., 123.
136
Shamanism and
Christianity
146. Alexander Iaroshevich to Vladimir Donskoi, Dean of Clergy, "Otchet o Missii,"

May 14, 1895, Reports/Records, Alexander Iaroshevich, 1891-1896,A/?CA, roll 201.
147. Modestov, "Tserkovno-Istoricheskoe Opisanie Nushagakskoi Missii Aleutskoi
Eparkhii," 304.
148. "Protokoli Zasedanii Kenaiskago Sviato-Pokrovskago Bratstva," August 13, 1904,
ARCA, roll 181; Pavel Shadura to the Alaska Dean of Clergy, April 25, 1913," Reports/
Records, Pavel Shadura, 1909-1923, ARCA, roll 201; Savva Stepan, a Tyonek elder and
churchwarden, Mary Conrad Center, Anchorage, AK, interview by author, July 12, 1998.
149. "Kenaiskoe Sviato-Pokrovskoe Bratstvo za 1897/8 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger3, no. 13 (1899): 363; "Godovoi Otchet Kenaiskago Sviato-Pokrovskago
Bratstava s 1-go Oktiabria 1904 G. po 1-oe Oktiabria 1905 G.," ibid. 10, no. 3 (1905): 54.
150. Ioann Bortnovsky to Bishop Tikhon, October 25, 1901, Cases, Stepan and Fedosiia
Mukakatakhan, ARCA, roll 182.
151. Ibid.
152. Dzeniskevich, Atapaski Aliaski, 109-110, 113.
154. Nikolai, Vipiska iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena Nikolaia s 1858 po
1862 God, 2; idem, "Iz Zhurnala Kenaiskogo Missionera Igumena Nikolaia, Nikolaevskii
Redut, 1862 God," 9.
155. Vasilii Shishkin to the Alaska Ecclesiastical Consistory, "Nizhaishii Raport," August 1890, Nushagak, Records/Reports, Vasilii Shishkin, ARCA, roll 149.
157. Chandonnet, On the Trail ofEklutna, 53.
158. Joan Townsend, "The Tanaina of Southwestern Alaska: A Historical Synopsis,"
Western Canadian Journal of Anthropology, no. 2 (1970): 10.
159. Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 290-291 ; Osgood, Ethnography of the
Tanaina, 170.
160. "Protokoli Zasedanii Kenaiskago Sviato-Pokrovskago Bratstva," October 1, 1900,
ARCA, roll 181.
161. Nikolai, Vipiska iz Zhurnala Kenaiskago Missionera Igumena Nikolaia s 1858 po
1862 God, 24.
164. Modestov, "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal za 1895 God, No. 181," July 1894 to June
1895.
165. Mitropolsky to Bishop Nikolai, "Pochtitelneishii Raport," September 7, 1892.
166. Hiermonk Antonii to Bishop Tikhon, April 13, 1900, Copper River, Diocese Administration, Establishment of a Parish, 1900, ARCA, roll 203.
168. In this regard, it seems strange that Ellanna and Balluta insist that in the religious
practice of the inland Dena'ina we may observe "continuity of non-Christian ideologies
and related behaviors in the face of repression from Euroamerican religious practitioners
and public educational policies." Ellanna and Balluta, Nuvendaltin Quhtana, 287. Available literature and sources hardly allow the suggestion suggest that both the Russian church
and American educators forced Christian beliefs on the Dena'ina.
137

171. Our Stories, Our Lives: A Collection of Twenty-Three Transcribed Interviews with
Elders of the Cook Inlet Region, ed. A. J. McClanahan (Anchorage: CIRI Foundation, 1986),
42-43, 50, 126, 86; Subdeacon Michael Balluta of St. Nicholas Church, Nondalton, AK,
interview by author, August 13, 1998; Karen Standifer of Tyonek, AK, interview by author,
July 15, 1998.
ERIAN SEA
PACIFIC OCEAN
Map 4.1 Native peoples of northeastern Siberia
66
Unresponsive Natives": Chukchi Dialogues

with the Russian Mission, 1840s-1917
Here the Tatar way of life is winning out over the Russian.
Elise Reclus, Nouvelle Geographie Universelle1
Chukchi interactions with missionaries visibly indicate that under certain historical circumstances coupled with native self-sufficiency, newcomers had to accept
native customs and beliefs on their own terms, and even adjust themselves to indigenous lifeways. Not many know that these "Apaches of Siberia,"2 as two
American writers metaphorically called them at the turn of the century, maintained semi-independent status within the Russian empire until 1917. Moreover,
these natives, who numbered only about twelve thousand at the close of the nineteenth century,3 were the only Siberian tribal group that did not pay obligatory
tribute to the imperial authorities.4 In my interpretation of the Chukchi relationships with missionaries I rely on the model of cultural and political "middle ground"
offered by Richard White in his groundbreaking analysis of interactions among
Native American, British, and French interests in the eighteenth century. White
indicates that in certain situations a weak colonial presence made natives and
colonials equal partners in a cultural dialogue. Second, competition among colonial powers significantly diminished pressure of colonial hegemony on native
peoples. Under these circumstances native peoples were frequently able to dictate
their own terms of the cultural dialogue. To describe this balance of powers and
cultural equilibrium, White introduces the middle ground metaphor. He also stresses
that native groups used this middle ground to create a cultural space for themselves and to enjoy sovereignty.5
Another scholar, Ann Royce, in her Ethnic Identity points to the circumstances
that might have improved indigenous peoples' abilities to enter into a dialogue
with newcomers as equal partners. First, she indicates that an indigenous group
greatly enhanced its agency by maintaining a large part of its territory or economic
140
subsistence. In those areas where colonial forces brought little disruption or even
enhanced native precontact economies indigenous peoples had much more opportunity for a dialogue as equals. Conversely, in situations of intense pressure when
native economies and societies went through radical changes, the indigenous peoples
sought new strategies of survival by creatively using values brought by newcomers. Royce points to geographical isolation as the second important aspect that
determined how much autonomy a group possessed: "Unless there are other, overriding concerns, such as valuable mineral deposits in the area, difficulty of access
seems to dampen the enthusiasm of colonial powers for incorporating isolated
groups." If agents of an encounter accepted an existing balance of power and did
not encroach on each other's land base, along with "material reliance on each
other went a mutual respect."6 In my View, conditions similar to those described
by White and Royce existed in northeastern Siberia. Sunderland's excellent insight into ethnicity formation in northeastern Siberia from the 1870s to 1914 seems
to support this assertion.7 My thesis is that the Chukchi's attitudes toward Russian
Christianity reflected balanced relationships of mutual respect, which had been
established between these natives and colonizers in the northeastern Siberian
"middle ground." To understand why Orthodox missionaries essentially failed to
reach Chukchi I devote a large part of this chapter to a discussion of native economic self-sufficiency, political sovereignty, and power relationships between the
empire and the Chukchi. The reader will clearly see that the story that is told will
address not so much missionary activities themselves as the circumstances that
kept the Chukchi aloof from Christian religion.
CHUKCHI IN THE NORTHEASTERN SIBERIAN "MIDDLE GROUND"

Prior to the Russian advance into northeastern Siberia, nomadic, semi-nomadic,
and maritime groups of the Itelmens, Evenki, Yukagir, Chukchi, Koryak, and Yupik
populated the area. After entering this area in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Russians joined the native barter trade and became one of the elements
of regional intergroup relationships. From the very beginning, the Russian participants in these relations, namely, the Cossacks, merchants, and promishlenniki, were
interested in the procurement of furs, especially sables. The imperial government
shared the same goal and imposed a fur tribute on the local natives. The empire
valued Siberian fur resources so highly that in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries sable pelts began to play a currency role. However, such resources were
distributed unevenly. For instance, the area southwest of the Chukchi, Kamchatka,
abounded in sables, but the Chukchi country, located at the very edge of northeastern Siberia, lacked valuable fur animals. In their attempts to compensate for this
absence and to maintain trade relations with the Russians, the maritime Chukchi
as well as their neighbors, Siberian Yupik and Inupiaq, bought furs from Alaskan
natives.
" Unresponsive Natives "
141
Not surprisingly, given the abundance and high quality of sable, Kamchatka
became the object of intensive Russian colonization between the 1600s and 1700s.
Kamchatka's strategic location explained the persistent Russian attempts to control this region, which was also on the route of Russian trade and military traffic
between Okhotsk and the Anadyr fort. The Russians wanted to subjugate its natives in order to establish a direct transport network along the Okhotsk Sea coast.8
Chukchi conditions were different. While the Kamchatka natives faced the consequences of refusing Russian demands, the Chukchi resided beyond the physical
borders of Russian domination and refused to pay tribute. The severe climate of
the Chukchi region and lack of precious sables convinced the Russian government
that this territory was hardly worth colonization. In addition, during the 1740s,
when Vitus Bering discovered new trade routes from Kamchatka to Alaska, the
czarist government stopped viewing Chukchi country as a bridge for penetrating
into North America. In the 1720s-1740s a series of defeats of Russian Cossacks
and allied native forces recruited from the Koryaks and Itelmens at the hands of
the Chukchi added to the government's lack of interest in the area. During the
1760s, Russian authorities stopped engaging in expensive campaigns to pacify the
Chukchi.9
In 1769, the Russians reduced a garrison in the Nizhne-Kolymsk fort, and in
1771 they abandoned the Anadyr fort, the major imperial military base on the
fringe of Chukchi country.10 Incidentally, between 1710 and 1764 maintenance of
this fort had cost the imperial treasury 1,381,007 rubles, whereas tribute collected
in the area provided only 29,152 rubles. Finally, the empire imposed only formal
control over Chukchi country by allowing its natives to retain sovereignty.11 Furthermore, throughout the nineteenth and up to the turn of the twentieth century,
Russia still could not establish full domination in this region, nor throughout the
entire region of northeastern native Siberia. As a result of this uneven imperial
control, native peoples of this area established two types of relationships with the
empire. The nomadic and maritime Chukchi did not pay any real tribute or taxes
and enjoyed sovereign status, while the rest of the native population such as the
Yukagir, the Itelmen, the Evenki, and the Koryaks carried the full burden of paying tribute and other imperial impositions.
Despite conflicts, confrontation was not the sole element that dominated these
populations' encounters with the Russians. In reality, from the end of the eighteenth century in northeastern Siberia, commerce and intermarriages occupied a
far greater place in these relationships than conflict. The Itelmen, Evenki, and
Koryak and to a lesser degree Chukchi traded and intermarried with Russians and
Creoles. Generally, colonizers, who were primarily males, took advantage of local
buying and selling of native women by acquiring them for household chores and
companionship. Moreover, iasir ("human tribute") was considered a substitute for
the fur tribute and bolstered the mixing between Russian and native groups. Nikolai
Firsov even asserted that "the history of abdication of native women" represented
one of the major aspects of native-Russian relationships in this area.12 It should be
also noted that the greater part of Russians who ventured far up into northeastern
142
Siberia were already the children of native-Russian intermarriages. However,

Chukchi intermarriages clearly differed from the others. From the second half of
the nineteenth century, in maritime areas not Russians, but American whalers and
traders sometimes took Chukchi as their concubines. Moreover, for the nomadic
Chukchi intermarriages frequently worked in a reverse way: Russian and Creole
women generally married native males, especially those who owned large herds of
reindeer.
Additionally, in northeastern Siberia, the Chukchi and other natives outnumbered the Russians and Creoles, who composed a small minority. Thus, in the
Anadyr district, natives, primarily Chukchi, numbered 98.9 percent of the entire
population.13 Russian presence was more noticeable farther south, in middle and
southern Kamchatka, the areas with milder climates.14 It is no surprise that under
these circumstances indigenous groups retained authority over the economic, social, and cultural life. When the Russians and Creoles reached northeastern Siberia,
regular exchange and reciprocity fueled these new relations. The newcomers became part of the local economic and social relationships as providers of alcohol,
tobacco, and metal tools, and in return, the nomadic natives acted as regular suppliers of reindeer meat and skins. The scarcity of arctic resources and the
unpredictable seasonal fluctuations forced local Russians/Creoles to depend upon
the native foodstuffs. It was hardly surprising that in the nineteenth century, native
reindeer breeding drove a greater part of the northeastern Siberian economy.15
Nomadic communities experienced only minor Russian influence. A relatively
stable reindeer supply allowed the inland tundra Chukchi nomads the privilege of
maintaining economic sovereignty, which the coastal Chukchi and communities
lacked. Yet, the latter, being exposed to intensive American contacts, attempted to
reach self-sufficiency and stability by taking over middleman roles in trade.16
Though the nomadic Chukchi strove for independence, they did not isolate themselves from surrounding communities. Nomads purchased wood, mammal skins,
metal utensils, sugar, tea, tobacco, liquor, and sometimes guns. These trade relations with the Russians, Americans, their maritime kins, and neighboring natives
occurred on a permanent basis. However, for their basic food supply and subsistence, nomadic natives relied on their own resources. Although desirable, trading
for them was, therefore, only complementary. It is important to emphasize that
reindeer breeding created a more stable source of food supply than hunting or
fishing did.
Moreover, reindeer nomads did not need ammunition and firearms from the
Russians or Americans, because of the pastoral nature of their economy. Even in
the early twentieth century, the Chukchi barely relied on manufactured tools and
implements. When necessary they usually obtained these items from sedentary
fellow tribesmen.17 At first glance, some travel accounts contradict these facts. In
1912 Unterberger reported that the Chukchi were used to European merchandise
and would perish without it.18 However, he based this observation only on encounters with the maritime Chukchi, who were active middlemen in the
Russian-American-native trade. Overall, the most acceptable assessment is
"Unresponsive Natives"
143
Krupnik's conclusion that the reindeer nomads "maintained a distinctive degree of

autonomy and almost completely sufficed to meet all the community's consumption needs based on indigenous production alone."19 In this regard, it is hard to
support without reservations the contention made by the Russian historian Nefedova
that the Chukchi could not survive without Russian/American merchandise.20
To survive in the harsh local environment, the Russian and Creole population
followed native ways. A missionary to the Chukchi, Andrei Argentov, who achieved
little success in evangelization, remarked that in this country the average Russian
or Creole man "deteriorated within a couple of years," and after about fifteen years
he was usually transformed into a complete "savage": "Here the Russian tribe
turned into a nomadic tribe. All of them were gradually changed into miserable
nomads, fishermen, hunters."21 Russian settlers from a farming background could
not recreate in the Arctic the economic or agricultural successes of their ancestral
lands. Moreover, many newcomers were already too far removed from past farming experiences, because they were second- or third-generation Siberians. In
hunting, fishing, transportation, and clothing styles they adopted native ways, which
were the most appropriate methods of survival in this area.22 Yet, Russians and
Creoles did not accept nomadic reindeer herding, which required a complete adaptation to native ways.
Twice, between 1780 and 1783 and then again in 1852, Russian authorities
brought to Kamchatka domestic animals and peasant farmers hoping to implant
agriculture. However, weather conditions and the lack of interest of local Creole
and native people ensured that the experiments failed.23 Given irregular food shipments from Russia, newcomers increasingly depended on nomadic natives for food
supply. This condition forced both settlers and authorities to foster reciprocal relations with the nomads, especially the Chukchi. On the whole, the Russians retreated
to the fringes of the indigenous economies. This ultimately led to the establishment of indigenous influences on the newcomers, which were reflected, for instance,
in Russians' reliance on the indigenous languages of Sakha and Chukchi.24 According to a government surveyor, in the Anadyr district the most formidable of
the reindeer groups, the Chukchi, made theirs the lingua franca of northeastern
Siberia. All natives, Creoles, and some of the Russians living in this area spoke this
language.25 This meant that the Chukchi possessed little motivation to adopt Russian ways. It was rather Russian and Creole families who attempted to form close
relationships with the nomads through marriages.
Waldemar Bogoras and a missionary to the Chukchi, Ioann Petelin, stressed that
many mixed marriages in Chukchi country were between Russian/Creole women
and native men. For example, Petelin, who visited reindeer Chukchi of the Kolyma
area in 1902, mentioned that he stayed in the camp of the native Aleksei Kozonov,
whose mother, Evdokia, a resident of the town of Nizhne-Kolymsk, was married
to a Chukchi and by the time of the missionary's visit she had partially forgotten
Russian. A week later, Petelin reached another camp, headed by the Chukchi Matvei
Echesia, who also took for his wife a woman from the same town. When the missionary inquired of her when she had received last sacraments, the woman
144
responded, "Long time ago! We moved very far with our herds and I almost forgot
how to speak Russian ,"26 This pattern of intermarriages, unusual for indigenous
borderlands, tells us much about the general direction of ethnic development in
Chukchi country. Characteristically, as early as 1858 a worried priest, Petr Sleptsov,
petitioned Chertkov, the Nizhne-Kolymsk commander, to make sure that Russian
and Creole Kolyma residents "do not give away their girls to the Chukchi for
married life without receiving preliminary consent of the priest and performing a
rite of holy matrimony."27 Frequently Russian, Creole, Yukagir, and Evenki women
married Chukchi to save themselves and their kin from starvation. For the relatives
of these Russian/Creole women, Chukchi husbands became the breadwinners.
Describing the life of these women at the turn of the century, Bogoras added that
he personally did not know anyone wh'o volunteered to go back to her "civilized
life" after such a marriage. Observations made by I. W. Shklovsky at approximately the same time confirm such assessments: "The Nijne Kolymyans willingly
give their daughters in marriage to the Chooktchi, and the women easily accommodate themselves to the savage life, readily sharing the home with other wives.
In a year's time they become so acclimatized that when they visit the fort they, like
the savages, cannot sleep in the huts; they say that 'the roof presses upon them.'"28
Such intermarriages are only an illustration of the whole complex of peculiar
relations, which not only nourished Russian-native reciprocity, but also increased
Chukchi hegemony in northeastern Siberia. The Russians only represented one
segment of this balance of interests and were not necessarily crucial in shaping the
social, economic, and cultural landscapes. Only after American commercial interests made successful inroads into the native trade in the 1880s and 1890s did the
Russian government attempt to increase its administrative control over northeastern Siberia. Nevertheless, the empire was crippled by its weak resources, and its
rigid bureaucracy proved no match for the persistent intrusions made by American
whalers, miners, and fur traders. The advance by American and other foreign interests into northeastern Siberia strengthened the Chukchi's bargaining positions.
This trend balanced Russian influences, giving the native population the option of
making more choices in this area, where the empire overreached herself. Until
1917, Russia shared northeastern Siberia with American merchants and other foreign trade interests despite possessing formal administrative control of the Chukchi
country.29 These conditions not only supported equilibrium of power but de facto
established the sovereign status of the natives.
Throughout the nineteenth century the number of Chukchi reindeer herds increased. It should be mentioned that during these years and later in the early
twentieth century Chukchi herds did experience a few die-offs. One of the most
severe was an epidemic of 1905 that devastated some Chukchi bands of the eastern
tundra and the Chaun area, who fled to the west to their rich kin who had not been
touched by this epidemic. Nevertheless, on balance, the Chukchi reindeer economy
prospered and expanded. Baron von Maydell, who worked among the western
Chukchi, reported that an individual who owned between five thousand and eight
thousand reindeer was not a rare case. In the Amrawurgin band, which moved
145
west in search of good pastures, each household numbered between twenty thousand and twenty-five thousand animals.30 To support the expanding nomadic
economies, the Chukchi pushed beyond traditional borders, often clashing with
neighboring tribes for pasturelands. For instance, in the 1850s in the course of
these advances, the Chukchi expanded farther west to the Kolyma River and forced
the greatly reduced Yukagir, Evens, and Chuvantsy out of their former lands and
captured their herds.31
Despite the apparent hostile relationships among some natives, an interest in
mutual trade relations predominated over warfare. In other words, indigenous groups
were connected through regular exchange, family relations, and constant population fluctuations. Nomadic camps received sea products from coastal natives. In
turn, the tundra dwellers provided sedentary populations with reindeer skins and
meat. At the same time, the food supply produced by reindeer herding far surpassed the unsteady food resources of the sedentary residents, who, because the
arctic weather frequently prevented fish from entering the mouth of rivers, even in
the summer were subject to bouts of famine. Nor did maritime hunting guarantee
a regular catch. Argentov and Suvorov indicated how the coastal Chukchi often
faced food shortages because of poor fishing catches, and Richard Bush, an American participant in the Russian-American Telegraph Expedition, described a famine
in the Kamchatka coastal villages and stressed that it was an annual event.32
In the 1880s the destructive sea hunting conducted by Russians, Americans, and
Japanese victimized coastal economies.33 The Krause brothers visited the coast of
the Chukchi country in 1881-1882 and reported, "While a few years ago the entire
Bering Strait and parts of the Arctic Ocean were full of walrus, now only a few are
found there. The natives, therefore, rarely succeed in catching whales or walruses.
They more and more depend on the whalers."34 Lay and missionary observers
noted that Chukchi, especially the nomadic groups, faced fewer famine conditions
than did the Evenki, Yukagir, Evens, maritime Koryak, Alaskan Yupik, or Russian
and Creole populations.35 For instance, Bogoras noted:
The possession of reindeer herds makes the materiaJ life of the nomadic Chukchi more
stable, especially when compared with the precarious subsistence of most of thefishingand
seal-hunting tribes in this neighborhood, not excepting even the Russians and Russianized
natives.36
Current anthropologists essentially agree with Bogoras. The simple fact that the
reindeer economy was four times more productive than land/sea hunting and fishing speaks volumes about the conditions of reindeer nomads.37
An expert on ecological adaptations of arctic natives, Krupnik, stresses that "reindeer herders never experienced the ravages of famine that visited the coastal
communities regularly, and more than once they actually saved the sedentary hunters
and fishers from starving to death."38 Interestingly, the same was true for the nomadic Koryaks, Chukchi neighbors. The Russian anthropologist Gapanovich, who
conducted research work among this group in 1918-1919, referred to sedentary
146
Koryaks as being poorer than their nomadic kin: "Sedentary Koryaks do not have
such foundation for their economy as reindeer herding and, therefore, they live
poorer than their nomadic fellow tribesmen."39 Indigenous coastal communities
frequently decreased in number and intermingled with Creole populations. On the
other hand, population growth for the nomads reflected their healthy status. Moreover, Chukchi numbers increased during the transition to a reindeer economy and
later stabilized, remaining the same between the eighteenth and the early twentieth
centuries. Infrequent contacts with the Russians meant that the natives did not
experience a drastic population decline caused by epidemic diseases.40 Gurvich in
his study of the ethnic development of northeastern Siberia stresses that because
of infrequent reindeer epizootics and epidemic diseases and a growing pastoral
economy the Chukchi population increased.41 Krupnik, who also researched the
demographic fluctuations of the Chukchi, draws similar conclusions and notes
that the Chukchi's "fertility and overall stamina were the highest compared to all
other neighboring peoples."42 Krupnik challenged widespread assertions that the
reindeer nomads were "dying out" and showed that the Chukchi reproductivity
contradicted these claims. He agreed with estimates Gurvich and another scholar,
Dolgikh, made that the Chukchi population comprised approximately two thousand in the 1600s and increased to eighty-eight hundred by the late 1800s despite
two epidemic diseases that hit a few Chukchi groups.43 In addition, materials of
the 1897 census analyzed by Patkanov indicate that the number of the reindeer
Chukchi increased, while their sedentary population diminished.44
Nomadic groups provided meat to starving native and Creole villages that bordered Chukchi country and Kamchatka, and also to the Russian population.45
Maritime natives turned to the reindeer Chukchi every spring when the number of
fish caught was exhausted. At the turn of the twentieth century Bogoras emphasized:
Even the officials of the towns of Sredne-Kolymsk and Nizhne-Kolymsk find themselves
obliged to visit the wealthy camps, and urgently beg the reindeer breeders to come nearer to
the river with animals for slaughter, as otherwise the people of the town and the Cossacks
will be starved.46
The British traveler Dobell, in his 1830s account of native nomads in northeastern
Siberia, described how Gizhiga, the Russian and Creole village in Kamchatka,
faced regular spring food shortages. Dobell stressed that in the year when he visited Kamchatka the Gizhiga general manager received five hundred reindeer from
the nomad Koryak and Chukchi groups to feed the starving Creole population.47
During his 1868 visit to the western Chukchi country, Bishop Dionisii referred to
local Russians and Yukagir as people who routinely "live off the Chukchi."48
The missionary Suvorov provided an even more vivid example of the dependence of local populations on this indigenous group. He described how in winter
1860 the Russians and Creoles gathered in the Anui fort located on the Little Anui
River and impatiently waited for the arrival of the Chukchi for an annual fair:
"Unresponsive Natives'"
147
"However, we did not lose our hope to wait for the Chukchi. We waited one, then
two days and then on the third day at eleven o'clock one of my fellow travelers
runs toward me full of incredible joy and shouts, 'Chukchi arrived, Chukchi arrived!' Everybody was happy. It was impossible not to be happy for we were about
to share our last meal."49 In another situation, when a Chukchi chief and his son
visited Suvorov, the missionary asked them to help the starving Russian people.
The next day the natives brought seven reindeer.50 In summer of the same year
Suvorov again set out to visit the Chukchi, who were going to meet the Russians
for trade purposes. Describing the conditions in the Anui fort Suvorov drew the
same picture of starving people waiting for help from the reindeer natives: "The
Yakut, Yukagir, and Russians, who had come here in hope of avoiding starvation
they suffered in Nizhne-Kolymsk, already gathered in the fort. They sought to get
food and clothing from the Chukchi."51 Indeed, another priest, Ioann Neverov,
who worked in the Kolyma area in the 1870s after Suvorov, referred to the annual
starvation in the Anui fort and Russian/Creole dependence on the Chukchi meat as
common facts.52
In September 1868, upon the request of the governor general of eastern Siberia,
the government awarded Alexander Kuteugin, a Chukchi from Chaun, a silver
medal with the inscription "For an expression of zeal" (za userdie) "for helping
starving population of the town of Nizhne-Kolymsk." The next year three more
Chukchi (Luka Atato, Grigorii Tineimit, Petr Penel'keut-Veigin) also received silver medals for feeding Russian and Creole people of the same area. A governmental
roster of awards emphasized, "Moving around with their herds within the Kolyma
area during a regular famine caused by poor fishing these natives intentionally
stayed close to the starving people and provided them with absolutely free meat
killing for this purpose hundreds of their own reindeer."53 The situation hardly
changed at the turn of the twentieth century. The anthropologist Jochelson left
vivid descriptions of impoverished Yukagir, Evenki, and Chuvantsy families regularly following the Chukchi camps in the role of "spongers," who fed on "handouts"
and "leftovers" from the reindeer nomads. Moreover, Jochelson argued that such
widespread Chukchi benevolence corrupted neighboring natives and Creoles, who
were frequently distracted from hunting and fishing and gradually became used to
the life of freeloaders.54 The abuse of traditional Chukchi generosity by their "constantly hungry neighbors" became so widespread that in some cases it led to
impoverishment of reindeer nomads. In the Kolyma area such freeloading along
with a smallpox epidemic the Chukchi contracted in 1884 from Russian and Creole settlements forced some reindeer bands to stop their expansion to the west and
flee from the "new friends" back to the eastern tundra.55
The economic status of the Chukchi nomadic bands raised their prestige in the
eyes of the Russians and maritime natives. Sliunin wrote, "As far as the supplies of
food, the reindeer and sedentary Chukchi drastically differ from each other. While
the former are rich and aristocrats, the latter are poor pariahs who miserably subside off the seacoast." The governmental surveyor, Kallinikov, supported Sliunin's
observation by mentioning that "a nomadic life of a reindeer breeder is the ideal
148
for a Chukchi." By contrast, residents of maritime areas were viewed as economic

weaklings. Oral Chukchi tradition compared coastal "dog-breeders" with the
tundra's strong independent herders. Those who lost reindeer usually resorted to
hunting or moved to the seacoast, where they supported themselves by fishing and
trading.56 Argentov's account of the 1840s pointed to the respect maritime natives
paid to the nomads. He mentioned that if reindeer Chukchi found themselves in a
camp of maritime residents they automatically received the best camping spot. In
turn, Kiber stressed that reindeer natives enjoyed power over sedentary Chukchi.
One of the later observers, the missionary M-v, wrote in 1874, "The Chukchi are
especially hostile and rude to the meek and timid Lamut, who adopted Russian
Orthodoxy and lived settled life. When a Chukchi enters a dwelling and sees a
Lamut sitting at the best place, he immediately pushes him aside and takes his
place."57
"NOMINAL SUBJECTS OF RUSSIA": CHUKCHI SOVEREIGNTY

Argentov, a missionary to the Chukchi, after his frustrating experiences among
the Chukchi, wrote in his memoirs, "This nation is not completely subjected to
Russia and occupies a special status in our state. Our laws are meaningless to the
Chukchi and have no power for them. Whatever they do in their nomadic habitats,
the government does not interfere in their internal affairs."58 Many other writers
stereotyped them in similar manner. By the end of the 1860s Bush observed that
the Chukchi were "a bold, independent, and warlike people, and are the dread of
the neighboring tribes."59 The Russian official N. L. Gondatti made a similar statement: "They are warlike, freedom-loving and extremely proud people."60 In the
beginning of the twentieth century Pavel Unterberger, then military governor of
the Amur region, who also supervised Chukchi country, was even more lucid:
"Chukchi view themselves as a free nation and do not pay tribute to the Russian
government."61 These and other similar missionary and traveler images of the
Chukchi suggest that throughout the nineteenth century this indigenous group established its own standards in their political relationships with the Russian authorities
and population.
At the end of the eighteenth century, after the "Chukchi Wars," natives sought to
reinstate peaceful relations with the Russians and even asked the local administration to expand trade.62 In 1775 a few Chukchi bands sent a delegation headed by
two native headmen, Khargitita and Amgovgova, to meet with the Russians, who
were interested in maintaining peace in northeastern Siberia. Trade appeared as a
good alternative to expensive military campaigns. On October 11,1779, Catherine
the Great, who saw no purpose in dominating the Chukchi country, decreed that
they be relieved from all iasak tribute for ten years on the condition that the natives
live in peace. She also allowed the Chukchi to trade freely with the Russians "without
any reservations and restrictions."63 Later, the Statute of Alien Administration in
Siberia of 1822, the major Russian law that defined the status of Siberian natives,
149
strengthened the specific status of the Chukchi. This law relieved them from all
obligation forever and singled them out as a special category of natives who were
"not completely dependent," and who therefore were to pay tribute voluntarily as
much as they wanted in terms of both quantity and quality.64 A later regulation of
1857 again confirmed the Chukchi's right to deliver the tribute "as much as they
want."65 Thus, the Chukchi became the one native group in Siberia who paid no
tribute and maintained a semi-sovereign status. Frequently the price of such presents exceeded the "tribute." Even after 1888, when the Russian government created
the Anadyr District, the first administrative division in Chukchi country for the
purposes of better control, the Chukchi retained their semi-independent status.
The peculiar status of the Chukchi within the Russian empire paved the way for
a few reciprocal agreements between natives and Russians. Article four of an 1837
"treaty" between the Russian commissioner of the Interior Department and Andrei
Yatargin, a Chukchi toion, stipulated that "Russians are not to build any forts and
any kind of settlements on our land." Article eight forbade the Russian government from interfering in native affairs: "Our beliefs, ways, manners and clothing
will not be infringed upon." The Chukchi also required the Russians to provide
free medical services, while they promised to deliver the tribute, but only as much
as they could.66 The sovereign status of the Chukchi looked so attractive to the
surrounding native population that several Creoles burdened with imperial taxes
claimed in the 1890s that they were "Chukchi" in order to receive immunity from
paying.67 Furthermore, Siberian Yupik and Inupiaq, who heavily mixed with maritime Chukchi, capitalized on the same special status and were similarly excluded
from the category of tribute payers.
The Chukchi experienced none of the subjugation or moral intimidation that
local officials used against the neighboring Itelmens and Koryaks. Moreover, until
the end of 1850s the fear of a conflict with the Chukchi persuaded the government
to prevent the Russians from trespassing into native lands. Thus, in 1859 authorities warned all Russians not to visit the Chukchi without securing official permission
in order to prevent conflicts with natives.68 On occasions, the image of a sovereign
Chukchi nation produced panic, such as the 1877 "Chukchi fear" in the town of
Petropavlovsk (Kamchatka) when residents expected a Chukchi invasion. Even
later, Russian officials remained concerned about the peaceful relations with this
native group. In 1884 the Kolyma district police chief ordered that all local authorities "immediately implant into minds of all Russian population of the
Nizhne-Kolymsk area the idea not to irritate the Chukchi. Otherwise, those who
will disobey will be tried by a military court." In 1891, the police chief advised all
Russian visitors to Chukchi villages to "treat natives gently" in order to prevent "a
Chukchi war"69
Throughout the nineteenth century, the Chukchi restricted contacts with the Russians mainly to officially sponsored annual trade fairs, of which there were two: at
the Anui fort (Figure 4.1) and on the Anadyr River. The Anui fair was supervised
by the Kolyma chief administrator, while the Anadyr fair was under the jurisdiction of the Gizhiga commissioner. The political purposes of this Chukchi trade
150
were obvious. Until 1837 the government controlled all Chukchi trade and prohibited merchants from penetrating into the Chukchi country.70 Officials also watched
over the liquor traffic and attempted to punish those who provided alcohol to the
natives. Only in 1869 did the new Kolyma governor, Baron von Maydell, repeal
the last restrictions and introduce free trade. The first organized trade meeting
between the Chukchi and the Russians took place in 1789. One year earlier the
ispravnik (district police chief) of Yakutsk Ivan Banner sent gifts to the Chukchi
with an invitation to organize a regular barter exchange. As a result, from 1789 the
Chukchi became regular visitors to trade fairs in the local Anui fort.71 Tobacco,
axes, iron spears, copper pots, kettles, knives, and other household items were
exchanged for native sable, beaver, otter, and fox pelts.72
These fairs increased the supply of European goods delivered to the Chukchi. At
the same time, the trade created a large demand for native furs. The natives tried to
satisfy this need by expanding their middleman role between the Alaskan tribes
and the Russians. These activities became especially important for maritime Chukchi
groups, which were geographically positioned for the role of middlemen. According to John Cochrane, who visited northeastern Siberia between 1820 and 1823,
coastal Chukchi merchants, "so commercial a people,'* regularly visited the Alaskan Yupik tribes and supplied them with Russian-made goods, especially tobacco.
In exchange they received beaver pelts, not found in Chukchi country. Cochrane
reported to Siberian Governor General Speransky that all the Chukchi furs for the
Russian trade fairs, except the deerskins, were from Alaska. Kiber, who visited
northeastern Siberia at the same time, even called the Chukchi "people of the trade"
and pointed out their middleman position between the Russian and Alaskan natives.73
This native trade reached its peak during the first half of the nineteenth century.
Beaver pelts the Chukchi procured from the natives of the Alaska coast they took
to fairs and traded to both Russians and natives. Like earlier observers, Unterberger,
who personally visited Chukchi country between 1906 and 1910, reported that the
natives bought beaver furs and resold them to the Russian merchants at annual
fairs.74 The Chukchi active intermediary role disrupted the interests of the Russian-American Company (RAC), causing the company to lose profit. The RAC,
which included within its sphere of interests Kamchatka and part of the Chukchi
maritime area, attempted to stop the traffic of trade goods between Alaskan and
Siberian natives. In 1803 the company started a trading post on the Anadyr River,
but the Chukchi destroyed it in 1806. However, in 1810 a brother of the RAC chief
administrator, P. Baranov, rebuilt the trade station. After 1815 he supervised a
regular trade fair that attracted around three hundred Chukchi, Koryak, and Evens.75
During the trade fairs, the Russians and Chukchi acted as equal partners, an
arrangement that continued until the start of the twentieth century. Even historians
who exaggerate Russian colonial domination and influence in the area recognize
this fact. One of such scholars, Okun, concludes: "Coming once a year to a designated spot for the trade with the Russians, the Chukchi essentially dictated their
own terms of this trade."76 In 1820 the natives complained to missionaries that
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they had waited too long for the arrival of Russian merchants and the Kolyma
commissioner at the Anui fair. This complaint was conveyed to government officials, who then ordered that in the future local commissioners hurry to fairs.77 In
addition, a mandatory gift exchange between the Russian officials and Chukchi
headmen accompanied all trade meetings. Noteworthy were the reciprocal Chukchi
presents that Russian officials reported as the "native tribute." For example, the
opening of the Anui fair was always accompanied by a special ritual. The Kolyma
district marshal met Chukchi chiefs (Figure 4.2) and on behalf of the Russian czar
gave them gifts of tea, tobacco, axes, knives, and kettles and occasionally awarded
them medals. Native headmen made complimentary presents with furs, which officials registered as "tribute," and the fair was considered opened.78 Banner, a
commissioner, who introduced the practice of the Chukchi fairs, was also the first
official who asked the government for money to cover "Chukchi presents."79 During the 1820s, the government allocated five hundred rubles per year to the Kolyma
chief administrator for these presents. Later this money was divided into two parts,
so a share went to the Gizhiga commissioner in Kamchatka, the region also visited
by the Chukchi.80 The items acquired as gifts included tobacco, kettles, and knives.
In turn, the Chukchi "tribute" consisted of red fox furs. On the whole, the arrangement satisfied both sides.
Generally, natives and Russians provided completely different interpretations of
these "tribute rituals." The Chukchi viewed such gifts as necessary for maintaining
mutually useful relations and as prerequisite to continuing trade.81 The Russian
representatives treated "Chukchi presents" as a device to induce the natives to pay
real tribute and transform them into loyal imperial subjects. For this reason, local
officials registered gifts (furs) brought by the Chukchi as tribute payment, then
stamped and sent the "tribute" to St. Petersburg to flatter the imperial ambitions of
their superiors. Yet, officials understood very well the diplomatic nature of this
exchange and made a few abortive attempts to convince natives to pay genuine
tribute. The official guidelines provided in 1888 to Leonid F. Grinevitski, the chief
of the newly created Anadyr district in Chukchi country, instructed him to "cultivate among the Chukchi an awareness of their belonging to the Russian Empire
and try to make them pay tribute, not for the sake of the profit to the governmental
treasury, but for the development of their recognition of being under the Russian
power."82 Still, as late as 1908 during a trade fair in Nizhne-Kolymsk the Chukchi
again agreed to continue to pay tribute, but only at the exchange of presents with
the Russians.83
On the whole, this "diplomatic" tribute lacked economic significance and only
served political purposes. Russian officials themselves recognized that this peculiar exchange did not yield any profit. For instance, in 1866 the Kolyma governor
provided the Chukchi with 255 ruble gifts, while the natives brought a "tribute"
costing between 15 and 65 rubles.84 In 1869, the new Kolyma governor, Baron
von Maydell, attempted to abrogate this practice. During the annual Anui fair, he
stunned Chukchi headmen by not giving them a single present while trying to
extract tribute from the natives. As a result, the native bands retaliated by ignoring
Figure 4.1. A scene at th Anui trade fair inside the Anui fort, Kolyma area, 1895. Image
#11125. Photograph by Waldemar Bogoras. Courtesy Department of Library Services,
American Museum of Natural History.
Figure 4.2. Chukchi chiefs, Anui trade fair, 1895. Image #11140. Photograph by Waldemar
Bogoras. Courtesy Department of Library Services, American Museum of Natural History.
153
this Russian fair.85 Eventually, in 1871 the chief administrator of the eastern Siberia reintroduced the system of the Chukchi presents, a practice that survived until
1917.
Involvement of American trade interests, the third party in the northeastern Siberian balance of interests, strengthened the sovereign status of the Chukchi within
the Russian empire. The first American vessels sailed to the Chukchi coast in 1819,
and in the early 1820s the Bering Strait Chukchi were in the process of switching
to the American trade and delivered fewer pelts to the Anui fair. However, the
active advance of American interests only started in the midnineteenth century. At
first, the Americans restricted themselves to whaling and walrus hunting, but after
the population of whales and walrus decreased in the northern Pacific area during
the 1880s they began trading with natives for furs. The pressure from American
commercial interests in the area increased after the Alaskan purchase in 1867 and
the general weakening of Russian positions in the Pacific.86 American visiting
traders attracted natives by a wide variety of inexpensive merchandise and proved
more honest in their dealings.87 The American "cheap merchandise leveled a death
blow to the Anui fair," wrote N. F. Kallinikov, whom the Russian government sent
to the Chukchi country to examine the disruptive influence of foreign traders and
whalers.88 Especially harmful to imperial interests were 1904 restrictions imposed
by the government on liquor trade with the Chukchi.89 Boris Okun, who examined
the Russian presence in the northern Pacific, even argued that until the end of the
empire Americans had monopolized the entire native trade in northeastern Siberia.90
As early as the 1850s the native headmen realized they had a choice in whom to
deal with. In 1858 the Yakutsk governor general, Stubendorf, invited one of the
Chukchi leaders, Dmitri Khotto, to come for negotiations. Although he accepted
the invitation, Khotto planned his visit to Yakutsk primarily as a reconnaissance
mission and tried to find out which side offered the better deal. He defended Chukchi
trade with American whalers, his major interest, and did not accept Russian patronage. In contrast, another Chukchi toion, Nikolai Amrawurgin, who also visited
Yakutsk for negotiations in 1859, formally became a Russian subject; later he
strengthened his position by converting to Orthodoxy. He accepted symbols of
imperial power such as a gold medal and the title of "highest chief* granted by
officials. Amrawurgin's band was part of about 360 reindeer Chukchi who expanded farther westward and southward in the 1850s-1860s in search of additional
pastures for their increasing herds.91 In 1857 Amrawurgin and his group crossed
the Kolyma River and asked authorities for permission to stay on its left bank,
which belonged to Russians. Permission was granted.92 We also may assume that
his visit to Yakutsk was somehow related to this resettlement.
Such interactions with the newcomers suggest that Amrawurgin did not so much
care about relations with the Americans as he was interested in the Kolyma pastures and sale of reindeer meat to the Russians. In light of all this, it was hardly
surprising that his group established reciprocal relationships with the Russians
and later converted to Orthodoxy. Still, when in 1860 Anatovsky, the Kolyma dis-
154
trict police chief, along with the missionary Suvorov attempted to extract from
these reindeer Chukchi an oath of allegiance to the empire, only five natives agreed
to do this, two of them only after persistent requests of the priest.93 All in all, from
the 1870s a considerable part of the Chukchi trade, especially in eastern areas, was
more oriented to American interests. In general, eastern villages found it more
lucrative to deal with American traders, and some natives from maritime communities actually became agents for American trade groups.94 American traders
encouraged this practice to avoid formal Russian restrictions on foreign trade. The
Krause brothers, who visited maritime Chukchi in 1881-1882, described in detail
this native trade with foreigners and also mentioned that a few maritime Chukchi
accumulated large supplies of trade goods from Alaska to be delivered to their
inland kin. One Chukchi trader stored goods estimated at five thousand dollars.95
The newcomers established connections with the Chukchi through intermarriages and mutual credit obligations. In the beginning of the twentieth century, a
large segment of mixed American-Chukchi people populated a few maritime
camps.96 Gapanovich, who visited northeastern Siberian natives at the beginning
of this century, reported that "the culture of a white man becomes known to the
Chukchi and the Eskimo people only through the Americans."97 Furthermore, a
few coastal Chukchi villages did not realize that officially they were part of the
Russian empire. In these areas the Chukchi preferred to use English, rather than
Russian, as a trade language.98 As late as 1910 the Alaskan missionary Amphilokhy
(Anton Vakulsky) (Figure 4.3), who worked with the coastal Chukchi, similarly
stressed that the natives used English in their contacts with outsiders. The missionary added: "The Chukchi do not recognize Russian money and try not to accept
them. The natives prefer American money, for they maintain trade relations with
the Americans only."99
Abramov, who examined trade interactions in northeastern Siberia, argues that
"the end of the nineteenth century is commonly considered as the beginning of the
decline of the Anui fair and the Russian trade in the northeast in general."1(X) Interestingly enough, the coastal sedentary Chukchi started to bring not only sea animal
and Alaskan furs but American-made merchandise for trade with the Russians and
Creoles. Thus, in 1894 at the Anadyr River fair in addition to beaver and squirrel
pelts, the natives traded to Russian merchants American calico, powder, and lead.101
At the turn of the twentieth century Russian commodity turnover in this region had
decreased by three times. An influx of American/Canadian gold miners added to
the Russian decline. The joint Russian-American Northeastern Siberian Society
took control of the mines and worked them until 1909, when the Russian government, unable to extract profitable revenues, finally disbanded the society.102
American competition became so intense that in 1889 the government declared
the Chukchi Peninsula a specific Anadyr administrative district in order to reinstate there an imperial presence.103 At the end of the nineteenth century, imperial
authorities also tried luring the Chukchi back to their fairs by providing gifts for
the natives. In 1889, Svetlitsky, the governor of Yakutsk, who formally supervised
the western segment of the Chukchi, ordered an increase in the amount of presents
Figure 4.3. Missionary Amphilokhy (Anton Vakulsky), who worked among the maritime Chukchi in 1909 and 1910. Photograph courtesy of the M. Z. Vinokouroff Collection, Alaska State Library Historical Collections (#PCA 243-58).
156
the Chukchi received. Officials even introduced a special bonus to those Chukchi
who volunteered to bring a companion or a friend to a Russian fair. As part of these
attempts, authorities decided to sell Russian merchandise to the Chukchi for cheaper
prices than in the past in order to "adjust them gradually to the Russian-made
goods."104 Thus, the Siberian governor general forced Russian traders to sell Chukchi
tea, one of their favorite drinks, at artificially low prices with the sole purpose of
attracting natives to the empire.105
In 1894 Gondatti, the newly appointed chief of the Anadyr District, opened
government stores with staple food products available at subsidized prices in such
towns as Novo-Mariinsk, Ust-Belaia, and Markovo. Later, at the beginning of the
twentieth century native food stores were built in Providence Harbor and on the
cape of Dezhnev. Their sole purpose was to expose the natives to Russian goods.
In his 1910 memorandum deputy secretary of interior requested that a secretary of
trade and industry help organize more government stores for the Chukchi to force
out Americans traders from the area.106 Local authorities were instructed "in each
appropriate moment during contacts with the natives to implant in their minds
respect to the stores as the governmental enterprise."107 Governor Unterberger,
however, did not put much hope in this bureaucratic measure because it failed to
match American commercial advance.
In addition, officials tried winning native loyalties by cultivating particular individuals as "Chukchi chiefs" or toions, the practice introduced by Baron von Maydell
among the western Chukchi in 1870.108 In addition, Maydell attempted to impose
political units on the Chukchi for the purposes of control. He divided the whole
Chukchi territory into five territorial "clans" and personally selected clan toions or
so-called kniazets (little princes) for each one.109 The Anadyr governor, Gondatti,
who later supervised some of these nominations, gave to each "chief an official
certificate and a Russian flag, asking him to show these symbols of imperial power
to all Russian and foreign visitors. According to governmental regulations of 1872
these headmen also received the right to wear caftans and carry daggers as the
symbols of their leadership.110 The practice of regular awards of gold and silver
medals to Chukchi headmen also was designated to draw the natives closer to the
Russians. Thus, in 1860 Nikolai Amrawurgin, who established close relationships
with the Russians and adopted Orthodoxy, received a gold medal for "his loyalty
to the Russian government."111 In 1872 his son, Andrei Nikolaevich Amrawurgin,
received the Order of Holy Anna. Lieutenant General Korsakov, who was in contact with this headman, stressed that the practice of awarding Chukchi headmen
should be supported because it might draw native headmen closer to the government.112
Maydell even established the rank of "the highest chief of all the Chukchi." In
Russian works this "highest chief rank is sometimes also called "Chukchi king,"
"black king of the tundra," or "Chukchi czar." The Amrawurgin family, who received this title and provided candidates for the positions of "highest chief," was
simply a wealthy clan whose headmen did not exercise any influence beyond their
own community.113 It is interesting that while visiting Russian settlements, Andrei
157
Amrawurgin, who occupied this position in the 1890s, regularly inquired about
the health ofhis "brother," Nicholas II.114 In 1897 the Russians placed another rich
headman, Omrirol, in the position of a clan chief (toiori) among the reindeer Chukchi
of the White Sea. Sokolnikov, the head of the Anadyr uezd (district), gave him a
dagger as a symbol of Russian power.115 At the same time, the Russian administrator recognized that Omrirol did not "have any influence outside of his clan and for
everybody else he was and still is the head of his own kin group and a few friends
who move around with him/'116 Sovereign native populations, who did not recognize the concept of centralized authority, paid little attention to these invented
"clans," toions, and "highest chiefs."117 Bogoras described an 1890s incident when
an official made an acquaintance of his an assistant to the chief. This "leader"
lamented, "Now I am a chief, and I have this dagger and a package of papers as
signs of my dignity. Still where on the world are my people? I am unable to find
any."118 At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Siberian governor general in
his letter to the minister of the interior complained that, although formally all
Chukchi had chiefs nominated by the Russians and even "the chief of western
tundra" ("the highest chief), these native "administrators" were aware of neither
how many "subjects" they had nor where these "subjects" lived.119
Eventually, as a result of the inefficiency of this "chiefdom," some government
officials simply sought to eliminate the "ridiculous" sovereign status of the Chukchi
and impose direct imperial presence in northeastern Siberia to strengthen the Russian position in the area. In his 1908 letter to P. A. Stolypin, the worried Siberian
governor general stressed that because of their semi-autonomous status "an idea
of separate statehood penetrates the consciousness of the savage Chukchi." He
also cautioned that because of the small number of Russian people in northeastern
Siberia and strong influence of the Americans on coastal bands, "there exists a
possibility of revival of national consciousness among the Chukchi."120
The 1910 Stolypin administrative reform formally removed Chukchi sovereignty
and various privileges, but produced little change in the Chukchi's effective status.
The reindeer camps proved especially hard to control, and they retained their own
ways, recognizing none of the empire's laws. It is interesting to note that from the
very beginning local officials were a little paranoid and ambivalent about imposing these new regulations because they were afraid that the Chukchi might simply
move out of the area or, strange as it may sound, even migrate to Alaska. For
instance, Unterberger cautioned, "Such possible exodus of the Chukchi, who provide furs to our markets or reindeer meat to the Kolyma residents during seasons
of poor fishing, would be devastating."121 On paper, the natives became subjected
to standard Russian laws and classified as "peasants," since the government experienced difficulty in pigeonholing nomadic and semi-nomadic populations. For
those Chukchi who lived in coastal areas authorities introduced the Russian village administrative system, which again existed only on paper.
In March 1910, during a trade fair near Nizhne-Kolymsk, Melnikov, zemskii
zasedatel (governmental representative), desperately attempted to explain to the
Chukchi the social and judicial concepts of local government imposed by the new
158
imperial regulations. Still, in his words, "the Chukchi displayed absolute lack of
knowledge of basics of internal government because of their extreme ignorance
and distrust of the Russians."122 In the same year, in his memorandum to the secretary of the interior Unterberger complained that the "population of the Chukchi
Peninsula still remains an alien people to us. They are aware of neither the Orthodox faith nor Russian language, and have only a vague sense of their belonging to
the Russian empire. Therefore, we still have much work to do to draw the Chukchi
closer to us."123
CHUKCHI DIALOGUES WITH RUSSIAN CHRISTIANITY

Missionaries also were not thrilled with the peculiar Chukchi status. One of
them complained, "Taking advantage of their savage and desert land the Chukchi
still live independently and stand apart from the control of the Russian government/'124 Henry Lansdell, who visited the southern border of Chukchi country in
the 1870s, directly stressed that the very hopes for evangelization of these "only
nominal subjects of Russia" looked shaky.125 By achieving this semi-sovereign
status, the Chukchi selectively used various elements of Russian civilization. Economically and politically, they not only maintained but actually strengthened their
lifeways. This position proved a big challenge to the Orthodox missionaries. One
interesting story that the missionary Argentov recorded in his diary involves how a
Chukchi shaman, Tnepo, refused to accept Orthodoxy and justified his stance by
referring to the stability of the aboriginal traditional economy:
You are Russian people; God gave you the Russian faith and horses; therefore, you have the
Russian faith and use horses, while God is in the sky. We are the Chukchi people; God gave
us the Chukchi faith and reindeer; therefore we have the Chukchi faith and use reindeer,
while the God is in the sky. And so you Russians worship the Russian way and keep your
horses, while we Chukchi will worship the Chukchi way and keep our reindeer. The God,
who watches all of us, will look at us from the sky and keep an eye on how the Russians
observe their Russian ways and how the Chukchi follow theirs, and how each one maintains
its faith.126
In addition, the native nomads faced few of the unfamiliar "evils" evident in the
coastal areas and had no need to borrow from Russian "medicine power." For
example, indigenous medicine men and women rarely faced the problem of fighting epidemic diseases because of limited contacts with the Russians. All observers
stressed that such diseases touched the Chukchi less than other natives.127 Argentov
mentioned that in 1852 in the Chaun area a measles epidemic that ravaged the
entire Russian and Creole populations from Yakutia to Nizhne-Kolymsk affected
none of the Chukchi. As a result, Argentov called the latter "extremely healthy
people," who, although they refused vaccination, still did not die out.128 Fiftyseven years later, another missionary, Amphilokhy, who visited the maritime
Chukchi, stressed that he hardly met "sickly and tuberculous people" among
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them.129 In contrast, epidemics wiped out many Koryak villages, especially in the
maritime region, more exposed to Russian influences.
Argentov summarized his unsuccessful experiences among the Chukchi as follows:
Who needs a priest here? Shamans support their influence through their personal charisma
devoid of anything that even distantly resembles police or bureaucracy. Therefore, these
shamans, who are welcomed uy ignorant masses, stand, so to speak, on solid ground. 13
He concluded that, to his deepest regret, native healers in that arctic country were
much more useful to the natives than priests.
Nineteenth-century Russian and later Soviet researchers explained the unsteady
presence of Orthodoxy, especially among the nomadic Chukchi, by alleged moral
corruption of priests or by economic exploitation of natives by clergy. At the turn
of the century, Bogoras and Jochelson, both anthropologists, depicted Russian
missionaries as either dishonest or eccentric individuals. This allowed Bogoras to
conclude, "No wonder that most of the Chukchi, with the exception of those who
live nearest to the Russian settlements, have remained until now, unbaptized."131
These scholars correctly referred to a weak interest among the natives in experiencing Christianity. However, they failed to locate the roots of natives' indifference
to the Orthodoxy.
Soviet authors readily accepted Bogoras's and Jochelson's assessments, which
fit a Marxist anthropological framework.132 In his book on Russian expansion to
Kamchatka, Okun even pushed this approach to an extreme. His major thesis is
that Kamchatka was a colony and the clergy were an integral part of the imperial
colonial expansion. Therefore, the Russian church not only served political and
strategic interests of the state but exploited the Koryaks, Chukchi, Itelmens, and
other natives for profit. Unfortunately, he found little support for his thesis. By
emphasizing native hatred of Orthodoxy he dismissed all indigenous conversions
in northeastern Siberia as false and superficial.133 On the other hand, Dogurevich,
an Orthodox historian of the turn of the century, in his book, with the characteristic
title The Light for Asia, totally relied on missionary accounts and spoke about
"thousands" of Chukchi converts. Moreover, he argued that by his time (1897)
evangelization of these natives was almost completed.134 This unfounded optimism originated from reports of missionaries, who at times were stunned by the
relative ease with which arctic nomads accepted baptism after a short instructive
talk.
As in many other cases of indigenous-European encounters, dialogues between
native northerners and Russian missionaries illustrated the common situation that
both sides attached different meanings to the same events. To the Orthodox messengers, the supposed responsiveness of the "savages" proved that natives kept
their hearts open to conversion. In a letter to his Moscow superiors Bishop
Veniaminov, who supervised missionary work in Alaska and eastern Siberia, declared that by 1851 his subordinates had baptized 2,940 Chukchi.135 Another cleric
160
who worked among the Chukchi, who signed his report as M-v, optimistically
wrote, "Chukchi respect our missionaries very much, wholeheartedly welcome
them, willingly listen to their talks and frequently themselves express a desire to
accept a baptism. Although these natives are ignorant and crude, they are aware of
the uselessness of shamanism and easily amazed by the truth of Christianity."136
As early as 1821 the Russian Bible Society, inspired by similar optimistic missionary accounts, made a bizarre attempt to print one hundred copies of basic prayers
translated to the Chukchi language and distribute them to the natives, who had no
idea what the printed word signified. We do not know what particular groups of
the Chukchi received these books. However, a nineteenth-century observer informs us that the natives hid them inside clothing on their chests, using them as
amulets.137
As we find both directly from travel accounts and indirectly from missionary
reports, conversion for the natives served primarily two purposes. First, it could be
an expression of traditional reciprocity to maintain commercial dealings with the
Russians, especially important during annual trade fairs. According to Bogoras,
the Chukchi approached a baptism in the same way that they viewed the "tribute
payment," as a sort of prerequisite for the continuation of trade relations with the
Russians. Second, it seems that the Chukchi often took advantage of the missionaries' gifts given at baptisms. Conversions and religious talks were usually
accompanied by collective tea drinking. Also, the newly baptized received sugar,
tobacco, shirts, and some metal utensils from clerics. Suvorov referred to tea drinking and gifts to the newly baptized as regular treats provided by missionaries.138
Not surprisingly, many observers noted a phenomenon of multiple conversion
among these natives.
Before accepting baptism some Chukchi even insisted on obtaining presents. A
Russian naval officer, Matushin, who was a witness to a scene of the Chukchi's
conversion during the Anui trade fair in the 1820s, vividly illustrated their motives: "A desire to get tobacco, a knife or beads forces them to accept baptism one,
two, three and more times." He also described a young Chukchi who suddenly
jumped out of the baptism font with cold water and ran naked around the room
shouting, "Enough! I do not want any more of it! Give me my tobacco, give me my
tobacco."139 The British explorer of Siberia Cochrane, who, incidentally, observed
the same scene of baptism described here, similarly noted that each new convert
received tobacco "by way of inducing others to follow the example." Like Matushin,
he stressed that the Chukchi tried to accept baptism twice and three times "for the
privilege of the presents."140 Matushin's fellow traveler, Dr. Kiber, who supported
these observations, surmised:
To be true, Christianity will not blossom here too soon. Formally, all Chukchi who come to
the fair are baptized, but they accept baptism only when they are given tobacco, iron articles
and so forth. No Chukchi will accept baptism by conviction. No sooner does he get his
presents he comes back home and forgets both baptism and his new name.141
161
As a result, as Cochrane informs us, "good people of Irkutsk" were tired of

sending priests and tobacco "to such a people."142 Treskin, Siberian governor general, stationed in that city, leveled the most devastating criticism of missionary
efforts to enlighten nomads. In reference to a missionary trip to the Chukchi area
that the church judged successful, Treskin wrote:
The claim made by preacher Sleptsov that fifty-five Chukchi accepted baptism and became
Russian subjects is absolutely unfounded. Because of their savage way of life the Chukchi
people grasp neither idea of Christianity nor imperial citizenship. If by a chance they accept
holy baptism, they do this only in hope to receive an award or a present.143
Interestingly, in his 1868 report to Veniaminov, Mitrofan Shipitsin, a missionary
to the Chukchi of the Anadyr area, even directly suggested using presents as tools
to speed up evangelization of natives.144 Veniaminov himself admitted the pragmatic Chukchi approach to conversion. He mentioned that after accepting baptism
and receiving presents the natives went to other priests the next year. One year
later they again were ready to be baptized by the first missionary. Though
Veniaminov was well aware that, for instance, "a shirt for local savages is a valuable and important thing," nevertheless, he instructed missionaries to abolish the
practice of gift giving in order to test the sincerity of the new converts.145 By
issuing such recommendations Veniaminov, who as a missionary dealt primarily
with the "submissive" Aleuts and Alutiiq, displayed no understanding of the sovereign Chukchi nomadic and maritime bands. Otherwise, he could have utilized a
more realistic strategy. It was evident that he overestimated the predisposition of
this tribal group for conversion. In all fairness, it should be mentioned that some
missionaries to the Chukchi did not have any illusions about the native motives. In
the 1860s Suvorov and Shipitsin stressed that the Chukchi were indifferent to adoption of Christianity, "although they are always ready to be baptized without any
conviction for some worthless present."146
According to Bogoras, the first missionary to the Chukchi, Flavian, visited them
in 1744,147 but the following year a Koryak war party murdered him and his three
assistants. In 1753, Mikhail Trifonov, a missionary to the Sakha, made the second
attempt to Christianize the Chukchi. Another priest, Prokopii Trifonov, ventured
into Chukchi country four years later.148 Finally, in 1799 a native priest from the
Sakha tribe, Grigorii Sleptsov, established a mobile church for the western Chukchi
in Anui.149 Sleptsov's work is described in one of the first documented accounts of
missionary activities among the Chukchi. From his 1805 report we learn that
Sleptsov asked for a military detachment to accompany him. In the same account
the missionary claimed that he had converted fifty-five natives (the event that angered Treskin). Like local officials, the church was afraid to provoke the natives
and, instead of the Cossacks, sent fourteen civilians with the priest.150
In 1812 a Chukchi war party from Chaun Bay attacked Sleptsov. Conflicting
interpretations exist of why this attack occurred. One, offered by a nineteenthcentury writer, states that Sleptsov was to be a sacrifice to the "sacred earth."
162
However, Bogoras argued that the Chukchi had less exotic purposes and only wanted
to take furs and walrus ivory that Sleptsov had taken from a few Chukchi camps as
presents to the Russian officials. The missionary was spared by a local Chaun
elder, Valetka.151 Also, Sleptsov marked his presence by erecting a big cross in
Chaun Bay in 1812, but local natives cut it down, thinking that the cross caused
fish shortages in the neighboring river. From his account we see that Sleptsov
worked among coastal sedentary or semi-nomadic natives. In 1816, after his death,
Sleptsov was succeeded by a missionary from Nizhne-Kolymsk, Alexander
Trifonov. Trifonov baptized a few Chukchi who visited a fair at the Anui fort in
1818. In order to reach Chukchi in 1818 this missionary also suggested erecting
chapels in their country, but his project did not find support at that time. Apparently, Trifonov should also be credited with making the first translations of Christian
commandments and basic prayers into Chukchi.152
The first active attempts to evangelize the Chukchi were made only in the 1830s
and 1840s, when natives and Russians reinforced trade relations.153 Moreover,
some natives who visited trade fairs asked for baptism. For instance, in 1831 in the
Gizhiga area (Kamchatka) only one Chukchi accepted baptism, in 1835 four more
did, and four years later fifteen natives volunteered for conversion.154 It appears
that in the latter case it was a group of Chukchi headed by the warlike chief Chinnik
who visited Gizhiga in 1839 for trade purposes. According to the priest Gromov,
before all neighboring Koryak and Itelmen tribes had feared Chinnik, who was
notorious for his "animal-like behavior/' Nevertheless, this native headman came
to the fort and asked a local priest, Roman Vereshchagin, for baptism. This was so
unexpected that even Nicholas I, after receiving this information, supposedly exclaimed, "Good God, at last."155 Since Chukchi mainly restricted Russian contacts
to trade relations, Trifonov, Vereshchagin, and some later missionaries carried on
their work of evangelization during annual trade fairs. Thus, in 1840 during a
annual fair in the same fort Trifonov met and converted ninety-three reindeer
Chukchi headed by the toion Yatargin, who came for trade and asked for baptism.156 Incidentally, the missionary Suvorov referred to this headman as "the first"
and "the best" Christian among the Chukchi."157
All these facts drove Bishop Veniaminov to the conclusion that the Chukchi
actively sought conversion and that general prospects of Chukchi evangelization
looked very promising.158 Particularly, in his memorandum about the beginning of
the Chukchi evangelization he optimistically stated that "a few examples demonstrate that the Chukchi, residents of the north, even more than the Koryaks, are
predisposed to accept holy baptism."159 In 1843 he commissioned Vereshchagin,
as the person with relevant experience, to stay in southern Chukchi country extending to Kamchatka for three years in order to start their evangelization. The
activities of this priest laid the foundation for the so-called Anadyr mission. The
Bishop supplied Vereshchagin with a copy of his guidelines for the missionaries in
Russian America and ordered him to visit an annual Chukchi fair on the Anadyr
River to seek new converts among both nomadic and maritime natives.160 On the
bishop's recommendation and with the material help of a Russian merchant,
"Unresponsive Natives "
163
Baranov, Vereshchagin built a small chapel within the area of greatest Chukchi
concentration. Furthermore, Veniaminov suggested that Russian-American Company boost the trade relations with the Chukchi in the Anadyr region, as that might
bring them close to the mission.161
By 1845 Vereshchagin prepared a baptism roster and sent it to Veniaminov, but
contrary to the latter's optimistic expectations, the roster reported only ten Chukchi
conversions. The missionary's attempts to convince local natives to send two native boys to Alaska for theological training also failed. In a formal letter to his
superiors in Moscow Veniaminov, however, insisted that all the Chukchi visited by
Vereshchagin were eager to accept baptism.162 It appears that to speed up evangelization work Vereshchagin tried to distribute shirts and tobacco among the newly
baptized. Thus, his 1844 Anadyr mission report contained abundant entries indicating that every month he treated each newly converted Chukchi to three pounds
of tobacco.163 However, Veniaminov did not welcome such methods and stressed
spiritual enlightening of the Chukchi, which should not be supplemented by gifts.
It is obvious from the Vereshchagin account that he had to face the dilemma. On
the one hand, the results of his work were estimated by the number of newly converted. On the other, Veniaminov's dismissal of gifts as tools for baptism confused
the missionary. In his report that accompanied the roster, Vereshchagin let
Veniaminov know that the bishop's insistence on cultivating sincere baptisms would
not work. Point twenty-four of Veniaminov's instructions,164 which did not allow
missionaries to distribute shirts among the newly baptized, especially disturbed
him. "How can I not give them these shirts," Vereshchagin exclaimed. Though
those he met did not directly demand gifts, they never missed the chance to draw
the priest's attention to the fact that the Chukchi wrapped newborn babies in white
furs, suggesting that through conversion they would become "newborn" and therefore eligible for Russian shirts.165 It was not clear how the bishop and the missionary
resolved this specific dilemma. Evidently, Veniaminov had to back off since later
missionary records from the Anadyr mission show that evangelization of the
Chukchi was regularly supplemented by distribution of gifts. Such a practical approach to baptism apparently provided a constant increase of the "new born." For
instance, 1849 St. Nicholas chapel rosters numbered 296 baptized natives.166
In 1845, on Veniaminov's orders, Trifonov, a priest from the Kolyma area, in the
western part of Chukchi country, again visited the trade fair in Anui. His "catch"
suggests that Trifonov never bothered himself with the "shirt dilemma." Thus, he
reported that he had baptized six hundred Chukchi. Although, according to his
report, all natives were "good-mannered and friendly or inclined to accept Christianity," they were still "full of die-hard ignorance." It is notable that the baptism
roster Trifonov attached to his report listed no reindeer nomads, and the fact that
he worked mostly with a sedentary population might be an additional explanation
for the large number of converts. All native names he registered as new converts
were accompanied by a mark sidiachie, which meant sedentary.167 Eventually,
missionary efforts in this region resulted in the establishment of the St. Nicholas
chapel, which should not be confused with the previous one that carried the same
164
name and was built by Vereshchagin. The Kolyma area permanent chapel was
erected in 1848 in the Chaun Bay. Interestingly, one of the Chukchi headmen in
this area, Kamora, selected the place for the chapel and one Russian merchant
sponsored the building of the church and a house for the missionary.168 This involvement suggested that both sides treated missionary work as a channel to
strengthen trade relations. In fact, Chaun Bay was a convenient locale for trade
purposes, attracting once a year over one thousand Chukchi coastal hunters and
nomadic groups as well as the Evens and Yukagir.169
The missionary who turned the St. Nicholas chapel into the permanent base of
his evangelization work was Argentov, a successor of Trifonov from 1848. Argentov
also became the first missionary to attempt to break the practice of "trade fair
conversions." Unlike earlier clerics, this* most famous and aggressive missionary
to the Chukchi stayed among these natives for nine years (1848-1857), learned
basics of their language, and frequently worked without a translator. In 1850 he
entered the heart of the nomadic country several times. Argentov claimed that as a
result of his ventures he baptized more than one thousand natives. He usually
traveled in the company of two native readers from the Russianized Chuvantsy
tribe. This group and also the Even tribe were fluent in both Chukchi and Russian
and acted as cultural brokers between the newcomers and the Chukchi.17() Despite
his efforts to reach the nomads, his St. Nicholas chapel was located far from major
native camps. Moreover, Argentov complained that this transit area, with a small
number of permanent residents, was not helpful for missionary activities and the
church did not make much progress. In order to reach the distant Chukchi camps
Argentov made adventurous trips into the nomads' country, but with few results.
The Russian historian Nefedova even argued that Argentov never baptized a single
native.171
This missionary desperately attempted to implant Christianity in Chukchi soil,
and his diaries suggest that he was ready to go very far in trying to adjust the
Orthodoxy to local tradition. Since the Chukchi never buried the dead in the ground,
Argentov told them not to worry much about the burial process:
Human souls are deathless, they do not die. Human bodies, which are burned down, sunk or
eaten by animals, or buried in the ground, will eventually resurrect after a while for better
life. There is a future eternal life, an evil one for evil people, and a good one for the good.172
Finally, Argentov fled from his desolate church after a local native he befriended
insisted on practicing the Chukchi ritual of wife switching.173 Despite his tolerance, the missionary was not prepared to go so far. He tinged all his later writings
about northeastern Siberia with grim pessimism and offensive assessments of arctic people and environment. In his 1879 notes, Argentov stated that it was useless
to implant civilization and Christianity among the northern natives, especially in
the arctic desert. In his view, both the natives and Russians who settled there sooner
or later degenerated to "animal life" or turned, as he metaphorically put it, "into a
white polar bear."174
165
Later missionaries who succeeded Argentov did not abandon hope of establishing an Orthodox presence in Chukchi country. In 1861 a missionary from
Kamchatka, Ivan Nevski, attempted to repeat Argentov's journeys into the nomadic country. He visited all camps of southern Chukchi who lived close to
Kamchatka but was only able to baptize a few natives. Suvorov, Argentov's successor at St. Nicholas chapel on Chaun Bay, worked among the Chukchi from
1857 to 1867. Unlike his predecessor, he did not attempt long-distance journeys,
usually traveling between the town of Nizhne-Kolymsk and the Anui fort. It seems
that he possessed no illusions about native evangelization and mostly stayed at the
fort, restricting his activities to the visiting natives. Though the Orthodox historian
Dogurevich insisted that the Chukchi who met this cleric "accepted baptism without any efforts from the missionary," by 1860 Suvorov had baptized only eight
Chukchi.175
The diary Suvorov kept in 1860 during his two missionary trips to the Chukchi
in the Anui fort indirectly indicates that these natives approached meetings with
the cleric, conversion, and Christianity in general as a part of reciprocal relationships with the Russians. Suvorov particularly mentioned that three natives visited
him for a religious talk, two baptized and one unbaptized. The latter surprised
Suvorov by making the sign of the cross before crossing the threshold and asking
for the priest's blessing. As it turned out, two baptized guests were not yet married
in the eyes of the church and the missionary offered to perform the rite of holy
matrimony for them. One of them agreed, but the other refused saying, "I am not
going to do this because I do not know your faith very well and do not drink
tea."176
It is interesting to note how in this case the native connected the Orthodox ceremony with tea drinking, one of few symbols of Russian presence in the northeast.
Evidently, this Chukchi did not want to upset Suvorov, the host of the house, for
the next day he showed up along with his friend, who agreed to accept the church
marriage, and their wives. Ironically, when the priest started long matrimonial
instruction, one of these two visitors, who earlier appeared as the more "pious,"
now stunned Suvorov with a request: "Everything you say sounds good. Go ahead,
marry us as soon as possible; we have to hurry to the reindeer races." The missionary did marry them, but added that he was not sure how sincere the Chukchi were
in their approaches to matrimony. Furthermore, Suvorov stressed that next two
days his "soul grieved very much" for all "wandering" and maritime natives who
came to the Anui fair were busy with their reindeer races accompanied by traditional dances, feasts, and songs, and nobody paid any attention to the missionary's
presence.177
At the third day Suvorov approached the influential Chukchi maritime trader
and a headman, Khotto, and asked him to bring his unbaptized band to the missionary for a talk.178 Suvorov pointed out that though the native headman had
brought his clan to the missionary's house, Khotto soon became bored with the
long sermon and kept interrupting the priest, asking him to work quicker or he
would take his people back home: "Hurry up; baptize them; I want to sleep; I
166
might teach them myself at home " Despite such native attitude towards Christianity, the missionary insisted that more than three thousand Chukchi eagerly expected
"the word of Gospel."179
In 1870 Suvorov became ill and the position of the Chukchi missionary remained vacant. In his 1870 letter to the Holy Synod Dionisii, bishop of Yakutsk,
stressed that the Chukchi had no missionary for almost two years. He also indicated that a priest (most probably Ioann Neverov) from the town of Nizhne-Kolymsk
acted temporarily as the Chukchi missionary. Part of the reason why Chukchi country was still a weak spot in missionary activities in northeast Siberia was that
administratively the region was subjected to the Yakutsk and Kamchatka sees. The
large size of these sees and their limited resources along with geographical difficulties in reaching Chukchi did not place this area on the high-priority list. Therefore,
although missionary work started among the Chukchi in the 1820s, formally there
was no special mission to this tribal group. Eventually, church officials decided to
establish such mission.
In 1870 Dionisii asked the Synod to approach the Russian Missionary Society
(RMS) to provide help for this project. However, in his response to the synod
Veniaminov, as head of RMS, pointed out that for the lack of available candidates
he could not satisfy this request.180 In order to move evangelization of the Chukchi
into the heart of their country, the Yakutsk bishop Dionisii, who personally visited
them in 1868-1869, convinced Andrei N. Amrawurgin, "the highest chief of all
Chukchi," to build the chapel and a rectory in the most convenient location.
Amrawurgin, who was very interested in close trade relations with the Russians
and who probably hoped that merchants would follow missionaries, himself selected the place along Elombal, a tributary of the Anui River; invested fifteen
thousand rubles in the construction; and even donated four hundred reindeer to the
prayer house. In 1873 the building of the chapel was completed. As in the case of
the Chaun Bay St. Nicholas chapel, this project was also supported by a Russian
merchant active in this area.181 Missionary Neverov, who consecrated the chapel,
left a colorful description of this ceremony:
Amrawurgin with his son and entire clan along with a few other Chukchi participated in the
consecration ceremony. Toion Amrawurgin was dressed in a full uniform, which is very
beautiful: a caftan of light blue color with golden braids and a sable on the golden lace, a
few gold and silver medals of large size along with a bronze one, which is the largest. In this
uniform Andrei Nikolaevich is a real toion. I was ready to cry that during such an important
ceremony I was not able to say a single word to my parishioners due to my lack of knowledge of the Chukchi tongue.182
Later for his pious behavior Amrawurgin was awarded the Order of Holy Anna
of the Third Grade. It is essential to note, however, that Dionisii emphasized that
such behavior was very unusual among the Chukchi: "Among the Chukchi it is the
only one example of such piety, which never happened before since the time they
had been endowed with the light of the Christian faith."183 Andrei Amrawurgin's
167
band, although it still practiced shamanism, was among the few groups of the
Chukchi in which missionaries were able to entrench themselves. This headman
and his son, Afanasii Amrawurgin, who succeeded him, encouraged baptism for
commercial purposes and for the purposes of maintaining reciprocal relations with
the Russians. Missionaries, who constantly referred to this group of sixty-seventy
Chukchi as an example of their success, did not miss a chance to impress natives
with the glamour of Orthodox rituals and respect for those Chukchi who accepted
Christianity. Thus, in 1897 clerics took advantage of the funeral of Afanasii. His
body was brought to Sredne-Kolymsk town and buried in the yard of a local cathedral. In addition to Orthodox rituals, Russian officials and a military escort joined
the funeral procession "in order to convince the Chukchi to adopt Christianity," as
the priest Zinovii Vinokurov put it.184
Despite Veniaminov's negative response, the search for missionaries to the
Chukchi continued. Considering Argentov's experience and the desolated nature
of the area church officials decided to recruit missionaries for the Chukchi exclusively from monks. Later governmental representatives also admitted that "black
clergy," as monks were commonly known, would make ideal candidates for such
assignments. In 1896 Nikolai Sliunin, sent by the Naval Ministry to examine the
area, recommended more persistent use of monks-hermits, who overcrowded Russian European "deserts." Governor Unterberger, who supervised the area, suggested
recruiting Chukchi missionaries only among ascetic monks from northern Russian monasteries as they were more prepared for the arctic environment.185
In 1873 church officials finally founded the Chukchi mission and divided their
country into three areas called stations to reach most distant native camps. The
synod also found three missionaries and six readers to staff these stations.186 The
Chaun Bay area, the place where Chukchi evangelization started in 1848, became
a Chaun station, which inherited St. Nicholas chapel, built by the Yakutsk merchant Vasilii Trifonov in 1848. However, by 1870 this church and surrounding
buildings, located far from native camps and ignored by the Chukchi, were completely ruined. In addition, the head of the station lived almost three hundred miles
from this area, in Nizhne-Kolymsk, a Russian-Creole town, and this arrangement
also did not help missionary work. At the same time, clerics claimed that in the
1870s two hundred sixty Chaun Chukchi were registered as Russian Orthodox.
The second station, founded in 1873-1876, was called Elombal (or Anuisk).
This area, located between the small and big Anui rivers close to the Gizhiga village, was often referred as "stone tundra" because of numerous hills and mountains.
The local chapel built by Amrawurgin and his band in 1873 allegedly served six
hundred thirteen baptized Chukchi. The third one, Alazesk (or Sen-Kel) (Figure
4.4), which was founded in 1874 and occupied the western part of the Chukchi
country, formally numbered three hundred Christian Chukchi. Unlike in the first
two stations, a missionary who worked in this area lived permanently in the vicinity of achapel at Sen-Kel.187 Bishop Nikodim, who provided the information about
the number of the converted Chukchi in all three areas, nevertheless admitted:
"This tribe still clings to the shamanistic religion. They also move around and do
168
not have a permanent place of residence. Therefore, missionaries have to track

their journeys, chase them, and meet them at the places of their accidental stops."188
In the 1870s, these stations were headed by monk-missionaries: two hiermonks,
Dionisii ( 1873-1883) and Anatolii ( 1873-1885), and one monk, Agafangel ( 18751886). They left few written records. Dionisii and Anatolii were considered more
active, since they claimed that they had baptized four hundred twenty-three and
two hundred sixty-five Chukchi. Yet, other priests from the neighboring Yakutsk
and Kamchatka sees continued occasionally to visit the Chukchi: Neverov (18701877), Ioann Vinokurov (1883-1888), Zinovii Vinokurov (1883-1887), and
Shipitsin (1867-1870).189 At the turn of the century Hiermonk Victor Kirilov, the
monk Venedict (Viacheslav Bokterev), and the diakon Mikhail I. Petelin were responsible for the Chukchi mission. Father Victor worked among the maritime
Chukchi of Chaun and lived in the town of Nizhne-Kolymsk. Two others, who
worked among the reindeer Chukchi, were more active. Bogoras described Venedict
as an eccentric who attempted a bizarre venture by coming on foot from European
Russia to the place of his assignment in northeastern Siberia. Once Venedict and
Petelin traveled to distant reindeer camps, living and moving around with the reindeer Chukchi from 1896 to 1899. In addition, they visited all Chukchi villages
along the Arctic and Pacific oceans. Even Bogoras called Venedict's journeys "quite
remarkable."190
Like Argentov, Venedict worked with Creole interpreters, but the way he conveyed the Christian message opened the door not only to native reinterpretation of
Orthodoxy but to total confusion. While one interpreter translated Venedict's talks
from Russian to the Sakha language, the other translator, a Yukagir, then put this
translation into Chukchi. Once, Venedict was fortunate to have as a translator a
Russian woman who had married a Chukchi.191 Unfortunately, little information
about such persons who mediated between missionaries and natives is recorded. A
more practical missionary to the Chukchi was Petelin, apparently a mixed-blood
cleric from Alaska, who worked in Siberia between 1898 and 1905. In 1902 he
went across the inland of the Chukchi country from the Kolyma River area to
Chaun Bay. During his eight-month journey Petelin visited forty villages and camps.
In addition to exposing the Chukchi to the Gospel and distributing crosses, he
treated them with bread and tea. His "catch" numbered fifty-two native souls. The
Alaska bishop Innokentii, who called this missionary the "most zealous," stressed
that "such a success for a Chukchi missionary is very rare." It might be explained
by this missionary's knowledge of the basics of Chukchi language, and customs
and his readiness to share their lifeways.192
The employment of Alaskan clerics like Petelin for missionary propaganda in
Chukchi country was not accidental. For church officials, this procedure sought to
upgrade the missionary work in this far-off Siberian diocese. As early as 1903
Nikanor, bishop of Yakutsk, complained that his missionaries were not able to
reach eastern Chukchi and suggested that these natives be included in the Alaska
mission.193 On October 11, 1906, the Holy Synod agreed with this and incorporated the Chukchi Peninsula into the Alaskan diocese. Not only the poor results of
169
missionary work compeled the church to bring about this change; the reorientation of the Chukchi life to the American trade was also a factor. By the beginning
of the present century the Chukchi had not visited Russian western settlements
and fairs as frequently as they had before.194
In 1908 the bishop of Alaska, Innokentii, personally inspected the coastal areas
of Chukchi country. Next year he assigned to Abbot Amphilokhy, earlier a missionary to the Yukon Yupik and Athapaskan Indians,195 and to Stephen Repin, a
Creole (Russian-Aleut) psalm reader, the establishment of a permanent missionary station in the most convenient location of the eastern part of the Chukchi country.
Vakulsky selected Uriliak, a maritime Chukchi village in Providence Harbor, where
each summer five hundred natives gathered for a trade fair. In addition to regular
missionary activities, Amphilokhy put great stress on schooling. He opened his
school in September 1909 with twelve students.
By April 1910 Amphilokhy was able to convert about eighty natives and had a
few basic prayers translated into Chukchi. Documents from the Alaska Church
Collection also show that in 1910 106 Chukchi people from four maritime villages
visited him to make confessions.196 At the same time, Amphilokhy's 1909-1910
church service journal points to an ambivalent response of the natives to his mission. Moreover, his records provide snapshots of confrontation between the
missionary and the natives, specifically a Chukchi shaman, whom Amphilokhy
called "an old scoundrel." The missionary also reported about ostracism by the
Chukchi of Olga Bychkov, a fellow tribeswoman who accepted Orthodoxy. Only
when Vasilii Bychkov, her Russian husband and also a local police officer
(strazhnik), intervened did the open native resistance partially subside. Although
Amphilokhy stressed that some natives "learned the truth and do not want to linger
in darkness anymore," his general verdict was that the Chukchi were still people
"rather rude and capricious."197
The picture was not much different in the western part of the Chukchi country.
In 1914 Alexander Iavlovsky, who visited these natives in the Kolyma area, still
had to ask them "to abandon the shamanistic faith," reminding them that they were
already considered Orthodox. He also had to explain persistently to these baptized
natives that an icon was not a god, but an image of God. Iavlovsky also tried to
convince them that "polygamy is sinful," but admitted that because of the Chukchi's
"loose mores," he was not sure at all whether they accepted his arguments. In
addition, he stressed that converted people prayed to the souls of the deceased
rather than for their souls as Christianity prescribed. On the whole, the missionary
felt that his attempts had little success and blamed the Chukchi themselves, who
supposedly "have not moved yet to the expected level of development."198
Furthermore, there were simply few opportunities for clerics to catch Chukchi,
especially a nomadic segment of their population. Sedentary coastal communities
were also hard to access because of the weather. If missionaries ventured into
Chukchi country it mostly happened only in winter (Figure 4.5) because during
summer swampy and flooded lands made travel impossible. For their evangelization work clerics also occasionally tried to work in June, when the nomadic Chukchi
Figure 4.4. Orthodox chapel in the Sen-Kel, western Chukchi country. Image #1972. Photograph by Waldemar Jochelson. Courtesy Department of Library Services, American Museum
of Natural History.
*'-
^ *.. ! \-' ^.\i'x\.^\^-"ffJ!'. "If
Figure 4.5. An Orthodox missionary in traveling clothing, northeastern Siberia, 1901. Image
#22300. Photograph by Waldemar Bogoras. Courtesy Department of Library Services, American
Museum of Natural History.
111
moved closer to coastal areas, escaping the mosquito harmful to their reindeer. As
missionaries themselves recognized at the end of the nineteenth and at the turn of
the twentieth century, a trade fair normally held in February or in March remained
the major meeting ground between clerics and natives.199 Thus, in 1915 Nikolai
Vinokurov, a missionary in charge of Elombal station, reported that it was on the
occasion of a February trade fair that he initiated religious talks with the Chukchi.
Although after opening of the fair during the liturgy the Chukchi approached
Vinokurov and kissed the cross, the missionary nevertheless had to admit: "During our conversions it became clear that many natives, though baptized, completely
forgot their Christian names. They also could not explain what specific missionary
baptized them." During this year Vinokurov was able to convert only two Chukchi.200
By the turn of the twentieth century, despite all missionary efforts, both sedentary
and "wandering" Chukchi generally remained indifferent to Christianity.201
MARGINAL PLACE OF ORTHODOXY IN NORTHEASTERN SIBERIA

If the Chukchi retained such a large degree of sovereignty, did it mean absolute
immunity from Russian religious influences? Despite the general lack of interest
in missionary talks, random encounters with priests did affect these natives. It
would be a mistake to conclude that Orthodoxy left no trace on this tribal group.
By the middle of the nineteenth century, some Chukchi who resided close to Creole settlements recognized the Christian God along with their own "gods" and
developed a vague concept of the "reindeer master." Yet, those few Chukchi who
adjusted some elements of Christianity to their worldview were not monotheists
and apparently added the Christian God to the indigenous pantheon of traditional
spirits, translating Orthodoxy through native glasses.
Even zealous Hiermonk Venedict in his essay where he assailed critics who
questioned the validity of Chukchi conversions, indirectly recognized indigenous
rereading of Christianity. Thus, on the one hand, Venedict stated that "many Chukchi
already regularly fulfill their Christian duties of confession and communion." On
the other hand, when the missionary needed to illustrate his statement with examples, he revealed the essence of this piety: "When Chukchi or their reindeer
become sick and during other accidents, they feel that it is their duty to seek for
help from high above by asking priests to serve molebens [short church services]."202
Summarizing the status of Orthodoxy in northeastern Siberia Soliarskii wrote in
1915:
Natives adopted the outward side of Christianity, its ritual aspects, while the internal essence of the religion still remains alien to them and until the present time, these Christian
natives cling to heathen religious beliefs and attach to the Christian ceremonies the same
magic meaning, which they attribute to the Shamanistic rituals.203
172
By openly remaining shamanists, those natives who lived in the proximity of

Creole villages and who became interested in Orthodoxy occasionally appealed to
Russian medicine, if they found it useful, in addition to their native spiritual tools.
For example, in one case a Chukchi named Afanasii, a resident of a Russian/Creole border town, appealed to Bishop Dionisii in 1869 to heal him. His decision
Afanasii explained by the fact he had exhausted all other medicine.204 Besides,
some Chukchi families sometimes ascribed the increase of their herds to their
adoption of Orthodox rituals, especially when their conversion coincided with a
growth in number of the reindeer.205 For instance, Iavlovsky, who was frustrated
about the general indifference of the Chukchi toward Christianity, nevertheless
described a camp of Egor Vancha, a reindeer Chukchi, who welcomed the missionary and "with great pleasure" related that that year ( 1914) the number of reindeer
in his camp increased: "As an explanation Vancha pointed to their acceptance of
baptism. Vancha and his wife also asked me to baptize the rest of their children."206
Mikhail Petelin mentioned that during his 1902 journey to the Chukchi nomadic
habitats, natives asked him to sprinkle with holy water their camps and herds.207
The word the natives used for describing healers and the sacred also suggests that
at least some of them might have viewed Orthodoxy as spiritual medicine. When
they needed to say "God," a "cross," or "icons" Chukchi used the word e'nen, one
of the indigenous terms, which literally meant both "shamanistic spirit" and "Russian (Christian) God." Incidentally, the Chukchi used the same word e'nen to define
"crucifix," "image of a saint," and medication. Consequently, they called a Russian doctor ene'nilin (shaman).208 It is noteworthy however that available sources
do not say anything about using ene'nilin to describe missionaries or priests.
Individual and group encounters of the Chukchi with missionaries therefore
varied and cannot be totally reduced to a specific pattern. Yet, on balance, missionary reports clearly draw a picture of general indifference of majority of the reindeer
and maritime Chukchi toward Christianity. Interestingly, although some Chukchi
did ascribe the increase of their herds as the effect of Orthodoxy, many others, on
the contrary, refused to respond positively to Orthodox doctrines by pointing out
that the Christian God led to the disappearance of the reindeer rather than to their
growth. To support this negative stance they referred to the experience of the Evens
and other assimilated neighbors who were totally Christianized and lost their reindeer herds.209 Thus, in the 1840s Ulevek, one of the Chukchi elders, confronted
Argentov: "What will we get from the baptism? I have seen this for myself. Those
who accepted the baptism are getting poorer. Their herds decrease in number; the
reindeer disappear and die out. And people themselves disappear and die out as
soon as they start to accept the baptism. No, I will not allow any of my relations to
adopt your religion and I, myself, want to die as a normal human being." His son
was even more explicit: "We live by the reindeer and cannot survive without them
in this land. Since we do not want our herds to be decreased and do not want to get
into poverty, we reject the baptism."210
Although this incident might be related to the earlier period of the Chukchimissionaries encounters, later accounts also point in the same direction. The
173
missionary Mikhail Petelin, who worked among nomadic groups in 1902, explicitly admitted that the Chukchi simply did not see in Orthodoxy a spiritual power
that might be used for practical purposes.211 Petelin went down along the Chevina
River to a Chukchi camp populated by both baptized and unbaptized natives. In
one camp its residents thought that he was a merchant and expressed their disappointment that the missionary did not come for a trade. Petelin also found out that
even converted people "had not the slightest idea of the Orthodox faith." In addition, he discovered that they were not able to make the sign of the cross and had
lost the crosses they had received during baptism. In many camps that he visited
Petelin felt that nobody needed his spiritual guidance. With bitterness he made in
his diary the following remark: "On their faces I clearly read a silent question: why
did this priest travel such a great distance suffering difficulties and hardships?"212
Even a few loyal supporters of Orthodoxy such as Nikolai and Andrei
Amrawurgin, routinely praised in missionary accounts for their piety, showed off
their Christianity for political and commercial purposes. In reality, according to
Dionisii, Andrei Amrawurgin was still a practicing shamanist.213 Furthermore, in
1861 Suvorov complained that during an 1861 Anui fair twenty-five members of
Nikolai Amrawurgin's band, who "had been enlightened before," at first decided
to prepare themselves for confession and communion, but then changed their minds,
being busy with trading. The missionary Neverov, who worked with the Amrawurgin
group in 1873, had to face exactly the same situation. During his visit to the Anui
trade fair Andrei Amrawurgin brought to Neverov a group of fifty baptized and
unbaptized Chukchi for "instructions." After exchange of formal greetings and a
baptism of infants, Neverov suggested that the baptized Chukchi come for confession. Of fifty people only Amrawurgin and three more native agreed to return next
day, while the rest of the group refused, saying that they did not have time. Still,
according to Neverov, four individuals was something, and he even thanked the
Lord for this "scanty harvest."214
Interestingly, in 1860 Suvorov described a similar incident that tells us a great
deal about indifferent attitudes of the Chukchi toward Christianity. During an Anui
trade fair Suvorov had a cordial meeting with Yatargin, who "as the best Christian
among all Chukchi, teaches many of them Orthodox faith."215 The cleric strongly
hoped that the next day Yatargin and his band would show up for Christian instruction. Yet, having waited in vain for two days, Suvorov wrote in his diary:
"Unfortunately, my hope did not come true." As the missionary found out later the
Yatargin band and other Chukchi were preoccupied with reindeer races, a traditional recreational ceremony they performed on an important occasion, for example,
before the beginning of trade, after completion of a journey, or after recovery from
a disease. With sadness Suvorov had to conclude: "For them these races carry
almost the same meaning as a moleben does for us. The difference is that we have
God and they have their own spirit. Despite all the efforts I made to persuade them
to stop such races, my attempts failed."216
It is hard to generalize about how those few persons like Andrei Amrawurgin or
Yatargin perceived Orthodoxy. However, available materials suggest that for these
174
individuals interactions with missionaries were essentially part of their reciprocal

trade and political relationships with Russians. It might be also suggested that at
the turn of the century these attitudes started to develop into a syncretism since
some natives who lived close to newcomers occasionally supplemented their ceremonies with Orthodoxy.
In the west in the Kolyma River area, where the Chukchi nomads mingled more
actively with Russian/Creole people, anthropologists found that natives pictured
"the one who created" or simply "Creator" (Tanantomgin in Chukchi) as an old
man who created the earth and all living creatures and taught them how to breed
reindeer. Yet, the natives did not develop any special worship of this "deity." Furthermore, according to the Chukchi oral history, Tanantomgin did not establish a
proper harmony in the world and this job had to be completed by the Raven. Moreover, many oral stories do not mention the Creator whatsoever, and others attach
Tanantomgin*s role to the Raven. It might be assumed that those tales that do
mention the Creator might have experienced some Christian influences. As far the
Raven is concerned, this character similarly did not develop into a "god" that should
be approached, appeased, or given sacrifices.217 In the east, according to the records
of Harald Sverdrup, a Dutch explorer who spent about six months in 1919-1920
with semi-sedentary Chukchi, some natives also seemed to "have an idea of a
highest being." Yet, Sverdrup himself was not sure about this and found it necessary to add a remark that the natives "probably" believed in this highest being.218
It appears that as a result of the weak Russian and missionary presence the process
of syncretism did not develop further.
By the turn of the century, only 6 percent of the Chukchi were formally Christians, according to official statistics.219 In 1894 Bishop Nikodim surmised, "Because
of their life way the Chukchi have weak contacts with local residents such as Russians and the Sakha. Therefore, the latter hardly influence the former or better to
say do not influence them at all."220 Short and random meetings with missionaries
did not help either. As a result, the natives still clung to "the old pagan religion."
Another major disadvantage of missionary work was a lack of knowledge of the
Chukchi language. Except for Argentov and Petelin, who mastered some basics of
this tongue, clerics normally worked through translators.221
Additionally, missionaries were not able to establish in their stations schools,
hospitals, or other institutions of control. Although in 1883 in the village of Markovo
missionaries opened a school, it worked only with the mixed-blood natives of
other tribal groups and hardly affected the Chukchi. Two more schools, opened in
1916 in Uelen and Chaplino, recruited some maritime natives but did not attract
reindeer nomads at all. Unlike with some Creole or native groups, like the Itelmens,
clerics could identify no Chukchi who volunteered to act as lay readers, let alone
as missionaries. At the turn of the century the situation had hardly changed. Thus,
in 1895, an adjunct to commander of the Amur Military Region, Colonel A. B.
Olsufiev, concluded:
175
Christianization of the Chukchi people did not bring so far any significant results. Though
now the majority of the Kolyma Chukchi and around 700 other natives from Anadyr area
are formally Russian Orthodox, the baptized themselves remained loyal to their former
pagan beliefs.222
According to Sliunin, who visited the area in the early twentieth century, the few
Christian Chukchi who observed Orthodox ceremonies lived only in the Markovo
village (Figure 4.6), where they mingled with the Creoles.223 Not surprisingly,
during the 1910 Siberian Missionary Congress, one of the church leaders in Siberia, Ioann Kirenskii, recognized that the Chukchi and some other natives of eastern
Siberia "remained unenlightened."224 The reports of the 1914 Kamchatka Missionary Congress supported such assessments. During the congress clerics admitted
that many natives were still in the "grips of shamanism," even failed to remember
their Christian names, and were unable to make the sign of the cross.225
Moreover, some missionary and travel narratives describe the reverse influences
the Chukchi and other natives of northeastern Siberia had on the Russians and
Creoles. Such influences found expression not only in the economic and social
life, but in the cultural and spiritual sphere as well. The Russian government inspector, Kallinikov, who observed the work done by Amphilokhy and other
missionaries, wrote in 1912:
Christianization and Russification still did not touch this tribe. On the contrary, the Chukchi
made the Russians and the Russianized natives learn their own language. In Nizhne-Kolymsk
and its outskirts everybody speaks or at least understands the Chukchi tongue.226
Local Russian and Creole populations reinterpreted a greater part of the Orthodox
dogma by replacing some Christian tenets with elements of shamanism, as a result
of their need to adapt to local social and economic patterns. Kuzmina, who conducted research on this reverse impact of indigenous religions on the Russians/
Creoles, stresses, "In the process of developing economic ties and marital relationships, the Russians borrowed everything they needed to sustain their life and trading
pursuits from the peoples of the north, including religious concepts."227
Like Argentov, a nineteenth-century observer, Golovachev, emphasizing the weak
piety of the Russians in Siberia, ascribed this to natural environment: "The surrounding nature made the Russians adopt native ways of coping with environment
and little-by-little to become adjusted to their traditions."228 Iadrinstev mentioned
that this adjustment was the result of the numerically small and weak Russian
presence in many areas of Siberia. The Russians sought survival in an unfamiliar
and severe country. Therefore, they adopted native languages and ways.229 Bogoras
and Gapanovich noted how both Creoles and Russians occasionally appealed to
shamans and were "full of superstitious fear" before the magic power of native
healers. "The stories about native shamans' power are abundant among the Russians," wrote Gapanovich about the status of indigenous healers in 1919.210 Bogoras
reported that the Russians/Creoles adhered to the warnings received in dreams and
176
were afraid of threats made by native shamans.231 According to the British anthropologist Czaplicka, who visited northern Siberia in the 1910s, the great majority
of the Russian Creole population or, as she called them, "Sibiriaks," could be called
"Christian shamanists."232 "They speak poor Russian, seek help from shamans,
and are hardly acquainted with Orthodoxy," wrote Gapanovich who visited the
Kolyma Creoles in 1919-1920.233
Czaplicka argued, "Christianity in the form in which it has reached aboriginal
Siberia, has simply added a new divinity to the shamanist hierarchy, and enriched
the shamanist body of doctrine by the creation of some superstitious beliefs and
observances of the Russian peasantry."234 She also emphasized that in the northern
part of Siberia the Russian population was sparse and the native medicine man and
woman were more familiar figures than the Russian priest.235 The early twentiethcentury anthropologist Bogoras came to the same conclusion. He related examples
of the Russians approaching native medicine men and women. In 1902, when a
large sum of money (twenty-eight thousand rubles) disappeared from police headquarters in Kolyma, an officer asked a local shaman to help retrieve the money.
Creole women who felt ill turned to singing in a shamanistic manner and believed
that this activity relieved suffering.236
Nestor's memoirs abound in lamenting the "harmful effect" of native traditions
on the Russians and Creole groups like the Itelmens. Nestor wrote, "Some Russians adopted from the natives many habits, customs and superstitions, while natives
acquired from Russians drunkenness and cursing." With "great sorrow" he mentioned that the Creoles demeaned the "Russian cause and Russian name itself as
well as their spirit and body. According to Nestor, these mixed-bloods were "mentally backward people, morally ignorant and corrupted by free and unsupervised
life."237 During his inspection trip to Chukchi country, the Alaska bishop Innokentii
similarly complained that local Cossacks, many of whom were offspring of mixedblood families, completely forgot not only about Orthodox feasts and fasting days,
but even about how to count days in a week or in a month.238
In his article (1979) on the Chukchi and Koryak encounters with Russian missionaries, which remains the only work on this topic, Vdovin attempted to explain
the roots of the Chukchi relative indifference to Orthodoxy. His major thesis is that
the Russians and the nomadic natives belonged to distinct evolutionary stages.
According to Soviet/Marxist anthropology, the Chukchi lived at the stage of primitive communism. As a result, their beliefs could not match Orthodoxy, which
belonged to the ideology of an advanced Russian feudal/capitalist society.239
Vdovin's implication is simple: in their stage of evolutionary development the
natives were not "ripe" yet to understand Christian doctrines. It is hard to say
whether the author himself fully shared this argument, which was tailored according to the standards accepted at that time in Russian anthropology. Still, it is obvious
that this interpretation hardly explains the motive of the Chukchi to dismiss Orthodoxy as an alternative.
Those authors who point to the specifics of nomadic reindeer economy of the
Siberian northeast are more convincing in their assessments. Shishigin notes that
177
Orthodoxy as the reflection of Russian ways could not compete against economic
practices of the northern Siberian natives. Using religious encounters of the Sakha
(Chukchi neighbors) with missionaries, he explains natives' weak interest in Orthodoxy as follows: "Orthodoxy was not adjusted to the peculiarities of their
economy. Natives naturally appealed more often to their own pagan spirits and
gods, and clung to corresponding traditional ceremonies."240 Writing specifically
about the Chukchi, the anthropologist Chesnokov elaborates on this point and
stresses that Chukchi beliefs about the existence of reindeer masters, special spiritual protectors of reindeer herds, as well as numerous family and band rituals were
tightly connected with the prosperity of their entire reindeer economy (Figure 4.7),
and this association apparently did not allow missionaries to find a niche for their
activities. All in all, this author comes to the conclusion that such a stance of the
nomadic Chukchi culture helps explain why it was so difficult for missionaries to
work among them.241
It seems that to this should be added the peculiar status of shamans in Chukchi
society, which relieved them of performance of a greater part of family and band
rituals, especially those related to ceremonial reindeer slaughtering, usually supervised by band headmen. This might suggest that in their routine religious life the
Chukchi had less need of "religious practitioners," whose skills were required only
in extreme situations like sickness or reindeer die-offs. Even funerals, which in
other native societies of Siberia and Alaska were normally a domain of medicine
men and women, in the Chukchi society were conducted by "lay" members of a
band. On the whole, it might be suggested that the Chukchi culture along with
their relatively stable social and economic status did not leave for "Orthodox messengers" much space to entrench themselves in the role of "new shamans" or even
to disseminate Christianity among the natives.
Yet, to reduce the Chukchi's general lack of interest in Orthodoxy to the expansion of their reindeer economy would be simplification of the whole picture. It is
obvious that not only the native cultural orientations and the self-sufficient reindeer herding made Chukchi communities immune to sermons by Russian clerics:
so did wider power relationships that existed between the participants of nativemissionary encounters. The weak imperial presence, competition between the
empire and the United States in the region, the strong positions of maritime Chukchi
as middlemen traders, and Russian dependence on natives for food supplies were
also significant factors. Particularly, these facts might explain to us why not only
nomadic Chukchi, but also their maritime sedentary kin and neighboring Yupik
who did not breed reindeer, were uninterested in Russian Christianity. Therefore,
all those circumstances together increasingly diminished the influence of the Christian message on natives. On the whole, in northeastern Siberia native hegemony
placed the Orthodox worldview on the margins and allowed the Chukchi to maintain their beliefs. Simply put, the evidence strongly suggests that in this area
indigenous groups did not feel that Orthodox "medicine" provided a promising
alternative to their own ways.
Figure 4.6. Russian Orthodox church in the village of Markovo, southern border of Chukchi
country, March 15,1901. Image #22057. Photograph by N. G. Buxton. Courtesy Department
of Library Services, American Museum of Natural History.
Figure 4.7. Chukchi reindeer sacrificing, mouth of the Kolyma River, 1895 or 1901. Image
#22403. Photograph by Waldemar Bogoras. Courtesy Department of Library Services, American Museum of Natural History.
179
NOTES
1. The translation of this phrase is that of Willard Sunderland. Willard Sunderland, "Russian into Iakuts? 'Going Native' and Problems of Russian National Identity in the Siberian
North, 1870s-1914," Slavic Review 55, no. 4 (1996): 807.
2. Washington B. Vanderlip and Homer B. Hulbert, In Search of a Siberian Klondike
(New York: The Century Co., 1903), 224-225.
3. Igor I. Krupnik, "Kulturnie Kontakti i Ikh Demograficheskie Posledstviia v Raione
Beringova Mona," in Amerika Posle Kolumba: Vzaimodeistvie Dvukh Mirov, ed. V. A. Tishkov
(Moskva: Nauka, 1992), 33; S. A. Arutiunov, "Chukchi: Warriors and Traders of Chukotka,"
in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and
Aron Crowell (Washingron, DC, and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), 41.
4. For more about the evolution of the Chukchi tribute status, see S. P. Nefedova,
"Iasachnaia Politika Russkogo Tsarizma na Chukotke (XVII-XIX Veka)," Zapiski
Chukotskogo Kraevedcheskogo Muzeiia, no. 4 (1967): 27-33.
5. Richard White, The Middle Ground: Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great
Lakes Region, 1650-1815 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
6. Anya Peterson Royce, Ethnic Identity: Strategies of Diversity (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1982), 58-59.
7. Sunderland, "Russians into Iakuts?" 806-825.
8. iria S. Gurvich, "Interethnic Ties in Far Northeastern Siberia," in Anthropology of the
North Pacific Rim, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Valerie Chaussonnet (Washington:
Smithsonian Institution Press, 1994), 135; G. Patrick March, Eastern Destiny: Russia in
Asia and the North Pacific (Westport, CT, and London: Praeger, 1996), 71-73; Innokentii
S. Vdovin, Ocherki Etnicheskoi Istorii Koriakov (Leningrad: Nauka, 1973), 203; I. I.
Gapanovich, Kamchatskie Koryaki: Sovremennoe Polozhenie Plemeni i Znachenie ego
Olennogo Khoziastva (Tientsin, China: A. J. Serebrennikoff & Co., 1932), 56.
9. Kolonialnaia Politika Tsarizma na Kamchatke i Chukotke v XVIII Veke, ed. la. P. Alkor,
A. K. Drezen and S. B. Okun (Leningrad: Izdatelstvo Instituta Narodov Severa, 1935),
169-176; Il'ia S. Gurvich, Etnicheskaia Istoria Severo-Vostoka Sibiri (Moskva: Nauka,
1966), 115.
10. Yu. A. Shirokov, "K Istorii Goroda Anama" Zapiski Chukotskogo Kraevedcheskogo
Muzeiia, no. 5(1968): 14.
11. Kolonialnaia Politika Tsarizma na Kamchatke i Chukotke v XVIII Veke, 191 ; Waldemar
[Vladimir] Jochelson, "Kamchadal Materials," New York Public Library, Rare Books and
Papers Manuscript Division, Waldemar Jochelson Papers, Box 6, 112; V. V Antropova and
V G. Kuznetsova, "The Chukchi," in The Peoples of Siberia, ed. M. G. Levin and L. P.
Potapov (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), 803; V. V Leontiev, "Chukotka v
Period Razvitiia Kapitalizma v Rossii (1861-1917)," in Ocherki Istorii Chukotki s
Drevneishikh Vremen do Nashikh Dnei, ed. N. N. Dikov (Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1974), 93;
N. E-skii, "Sibirskie Inorodtsy: Chukchi," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 14 (1898):
256-258.
12. Nikolai N. Firsov, Chteniia po Istorii Sibiri (Moskva: A. i I. Granat, 1921 ), vol. 1,58,
60. See more on these intermarriages in Siberia: Gapanovich, Kamchatskie Koriaki, 58;
James Forsyth, A History of the Peoples of Siberia: Russia's North Asian Colony, 15811990 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 67-68; Ludmila
Kuzmina,"The Effect of the Confessional Factor on Ethnicity," in Shamanism and North-
180
em Ecology, ed. Juha Pentikainen (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996), 366;
Sunderland, "Russians into Iakuts?" 812-813.
13. Statisticheskiia Dannyia, Pokazyvaiushchiia Plemennoi SostavNaseleniia Sibiri, Iazyk
i Rody Inorodtsev: Na Osnovanii Spetsialnoi Razrabotki Materiala Perepisi 1897 G., comp.
S. Patkanov (St. Petersburg: Tip. Sh. Bussel, 1911), vol. 1, 22.
14. Ibid. Even in more Russianized Kamchatka the ratio was 76.3 percent of natives and
23.7 percent of Russians: Jochelson, "Kamchadal Materials," Box 6, 111.
15. Leontiev, "Chukotka v Period Razvitiia Kapitalizma v Rossii," 116; Waldemar
[Vladimir] Bogoras, Chukchee (New York: AMS Press, 1975), 592-594; Anthony Leeds,
"Reindeer Herding and Chukchi Social Institutions," in Man, Culture, and Animals: The
Role of Animals in Human Ecological Adjustment, ed. A. Leeds (Washington:, DC: American Association for the Advancement of Science, 1965), 124.
16. Innokentii I. Vdovin,"Vlianie Khristianstva na Religioznie Verovania Chukchei i
Koriakov," in Khristianstvo i Lamaizm u Korennogo Naseleniia Sibiri, ed. Innokentii S.
Vdovin (Leningrad: Nauka, 1979), 94; Igor I. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations: Native Whalers
and Reindeer Herders of Northern Eurasia (Hanover, NH: Dartmouth College/University
Press of New England, 1993), 86-87.
17. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 105; Harald U. Sverdrup, Among the Tundra People,
trans. Molly Sverdrup (La Jolla, CA: Scripps Institution of Oceanography University of
California, San Diego, 1978), 10.
18. Pavel F. Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 1906-1910 G.G. (St. Petersburg: Tip. V. F.
Kirshbauma, 1912), 274.
19. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 106-107.
20. Nefedova insisted that the Chukchi had agreed to take part at trade fairs because they
"desperately needed Russian merchandise." S. P. Nefedova, "Razvitie Torgovikh Sviazei na
Chukotke s Kontsa XVIII do Seredini XIX V," in Ocherki Istorii Chukotki s Drevneishikh
Vremen do Nashikh Dnei, ed. N. N. Dikov (Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1974), 101.
21. Andrei Argentov, "Nizhne-Kolymskii Krai," Izvestiia lmperatorskago Russkago
Geograficheskago Obshchestva 15, no. 6 (1879): 438, 441.
22. Terence Armstrong, Russian Settlement in the North (London and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 121; Vladimir [Waldemar] G. Bogoras, "Russkie na Reke
Kolyme," Z/HZAZ, no. 6 (1899): 103-125; 1.1. Krupnik, "Economic Patterns of Northeastern
Siberia," in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia and Alaska, ed. William W.
Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1988), 191;
Yuri Slezkine, Arctic Mirrors: Russia and the Small Peoples of the North (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, 1994), 97-98.
23. Firsov, Chteniia po Istorii Sibiri, vol. 2, 38; Nikolai V Sliunin, "Ekonomicheskoe
Polozhenie Inorodtsev Sievero-Vostochnoi Sibiri," Izviestiia lmperatorskago Russkago
Geograficheskago Obshchestva, no. 31 (1895): 159; Semen B. Okun, Ocherki po Istorii
Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae (Leningrad: Sotsekgiz, 1935), 127; F.
G. Safarov, Russkie na Severo-Vostoke Azii v XVH-Seredine XIX V. (Moskva: Nauka, 1978),
130-137; Jochelson, "Kamchadal Materials," Box 6, 101.
24. A. P. Slovtsov, Istoricheskoe Obozrenie Sibiri, 1767-1843 (St. Petersburg: Tip. I. N.
Skorokhodova, 1886), vol. 1, 77.
25. N. F. Kallinikov, Nash Krainii Sievero-Wostok (St. Petersburg: Tip. Morskogo
Ministerstva, 1912), 45.
26. Ioann Petelin, "U Chukchei: Iz Dnevnika," PravoslavnyiBlagoviestnik 1, no. 7 (1895):
350.
181
27. Gurvich, Etnicheskaia Istoria Severo-Vostoka Sibiri, 198.

28. Bogoras, Chukchee, 592-594; I. W. Shklovsky ("Dioneo"), In Far North-East Siberia (London: Macmillan and Co., 1916), 25.
29. For more about foreign activities in the northeastern Siberian borderlands, see
Armstrong, Russian Settlement in the North, 107-112.
30. G. L. Maidel, Puteshestvie po Severo-Vostochnoi Chasti Iakutskoi Oblasti v 18681870 Godakh (St. Petersburg: Tip. Imp. Akademii Nauk, 1894), vol. 1, 78-80, 97.
31. Leeds, "Reindeer Herding and Chukchi Social Institutions," 99; Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 126-127; Bogoras, Chukchee, 73,703; Statisticheskiia Dannyia, Pokazyvaiushchiia
PlemennoiSostavNaseleniiaSibiri, IazykiRody Inorodtsev, 120;Il'iaS. Gurvich,"Chuvantsy," Etnograficheskoe Obozrenie, no. 5 (1992): 76-83.
32. Andrei Argentov, "Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago Prikhoda," Zapiski Sibirskago
Otdela Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva 3, no. 89 ( 1857): 98; Petr Suvorov, "Zapiski
Sviashchennika Petra Suvorova o Poezdke v Chukotskiia Zhilishcha," Zapiski

Missionerskago Obshchestva, no. 4 (1868): 143; Richard James Bush, Reindeer, Dogs, and
Snow-Shoes: A Journal of Siberian Travel and Explorations Made in the Years 1865, 1866,
and 1867 (London: S. Low, Son, and Marston, 1871), 328-329.
33. Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 321; Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 192-193.
34. Aurel Krause and Arthur Krause, To the Chukchi Peninsula and to the Tlingit Indians: Journals and Letters by Aurel and Arthur Krause (Fairbanks: University of Alaska
Press, 1993), 55.
35. Mikhail Petelin, "Putevoi Zhurnal Missionera Chukotskoi Missii, Elombaiskago Stana,
Sviashchennika Mikhaila Petelina za 1902 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 19 ( 1903):
105; Bishop of Alaska Innokentii, "Iz Otcheta o Sostoianii Alaskinskago Vikariatstva za
1908," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 13, no. 7 (1909): 133; Amphilokhy (Anton
Vakulsky), "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal na 1909 God Pokrovskoi Tserkvi v Mikhailovskom
Redute," Archive of the Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska (Juneau: Alaska Division of
State Libraries and Museums, 1975), roll 10,1. 111-112, 122.
36. Bogoras, Chukchee, 95.
37. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 179-180. Jochelson stressed, "The acquisition of domesticated reindeer or the taming of wild ones insured the people against starvation in case
of failure in fishing and against accidents in hunting land animals." Jochelson, "Kamchadal
Materials," Box 6, 37.
38. Krupnik, Arctic Adaptations, 87.
39. Gapanovich, Kamchatskie Koriaki, 66.
41. H'ia. S. Gurvich, "Severo-Vostochnie Paleoaziaty i Eskimosy," in Etnicheskaia lstoriia
Narodov Severa, ed. Il'ia S. Gurvich (Moskva: Nauka, 1982), 209.
42. Krupnik, A rctic Adaptations, 101.
43. Ibid., 102, 179; idem, "Kulturnie Kontakti i Ikh Demograficheskie Posledstviia v
Raione Beringova Moria," 33.
44. Statisticheskiia Dannyia, Pokazyvaiushchiia Plemennoi Sostav Naseleniia Sibiri, Iazyk
i Rody Inorodtsev: na Osnovanii Spetsialnoi Razrabotki Materiala Perepisi 1897 G., 122.
Later Gurvich confirmed such assessments. Gurvich, Etnicheskaia Istoria Severo-Vostoka
Sibiri, 117.
45. Yu. V. Chesnokov, "Olen' v Kulture Severo-Vostochnikh Paleoaziatov," in Kultura
Narodov Sibiri, ed. Ch. M. Taksami, Iu. A. Kupina and E. G. Fedorova (St. Petersburg:
Muzei Antropologii i Etnografii RAN, 1997), 80.
182
Shamanism and
Christianity

47. Peter Dobell, Travels in Kamtchatka and Siberia (London: Henry Colburn and Richard Bentley, 1830), vol. 1, 153, 157.
48. Trudy Pravoslavnikh Missii Vostochnoi Sibiri (Irkutsk: Irkutskii Komitet Pravoslavnago
Missionerskago Obshchestva, 1884), vol. 2, 152.
49. Petr Suvorov, "Pokhodnii Zhurnal Missionera Sviashchennika Petra Suvorova vo
Vremia Poezdki Ego v Anuiskuiu Krepost v 1860 Godu," Zapiski Missionerskago Obshchestva, no. 4 (1868): 118.
50. Ibid., 127.
51. Idem, "Zapiski Sviashchennika Petra Suvorova o Poezdke v ChukotskiiaZhilishcha,"
139.
52. "Iakutskaia Pravoslavnaia Missiia v 1873 Godu," Missioner, no. 21 (1875): 165.
53. "Po Otnosheniu General-Gubernatora Vostochnoi Sibiri o Nagrazhdenii Medaliami
Glavnago Erema Chukotskago Naroda Amravurgina i Drugikh Piati Chukchei," RGIA, f.
381, op. 11, 1869 ed. khr. 21020,1. 5, 10 ob.
54. Vladimir [Waldemar] Jochelson, "Brodiachie Rody Tundry Mezhdu Rekami Indigirkoi
i Kolymoi, Ikh Etnicheskii Sostav, Narechiia, Byt, Brachnie i Inie Obychai i Vzaimodeistvie
Razlichnikh Plemennikh Elementov," Zhivaiia Starina 10, no. 1-2(1900): 165, 189-190.
55. Ibid., 187.
56. Sliunin, "Ekonomicheskoe Polozhenie Inorodtsev Sievero-Vostochnoi Sibiri," 183;
Kallinikov, Nash Krainii Sievero-Vostok, 46.
57. Argentov, "Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago Prikhoda," 90; Vagin, Istoricheskiia
Sviedieniia o Dieiatelnosti Grafa M. M. Speranskago v Sibiri s 1819 po 1822 God, vol. 1,
311; M-v, "Chukotskaia Zemlia i Eiyo Obitateli," Missioner, no. 46 (1877): 378; Merck, a
participant in the northeastern geographical expedition in 1785-1795, stressed, "Reindeerbreeders do not marry the daughters of sedentary people because they consider them unworthy
of themselves." Gurvich, "Interethnic Ties in Far Northeastern Siberia," 313.
58. Andrei Argentov, Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika Andreia Argentova:
Vostochnaia Sibir (Nizhnii Novgorod: Tip. Roiskogo i Dushina, 1886), 13.
59. Bush, Reindeer, Dogs, and Snow-Shoes, 428.
60. "Izvestiia i Zametki " Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 20 (1898): 189.
61. Innokentii S. Vdovin, Ocherki Istorii i Etnografii Chukchei (Moskva and Leningrad:
Nauka, 1965), 243.
62. Kolonialnaia Politika Tsarizma na Kamchatke i Chukotke v XVIII Veke, 189-190.
Egor S. Shishigin, Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v lakutii (Iakutsk: Iakutskii Gos.
Obiedinennyi Muzei Istorii i Kultury Narodov Severa, 1991), 71; Antropova and
Kuznetsova/'Chukchi," 803.
63. "O Priniatii Chukchei v Poddanstvo Rossii s Osvobozhdeniem na Desiat' Let ot
Uplati Iasaka," RGIA, f. 1146, op. 1, 1779, ed. khr. 4,1. 69-70.
64. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperii, 1st ser., vol. 38, no. 29126, 78;
Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii: Pozdnie Pervobitnie i Predklassovie
Obshchestva Severa Evropeiskoi Rossii, Sibiri i RusskoiAmeriki, ed. Yu. I. Semenov (Moskva:
StariiSad, 1998), 149.
65. Nefedova, "Iasachnaia Politika Russkogo Tsarizma na Chukotke," 30.
66. Okun, Ocherki po Istorii Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae, 115.
67. Bogoras, Chukchee, 708, 717.
68. Vladimir [Waldemar] Jochelson, "Zametki o Naselenii Iakutskoi Oblasti v IstorikoEtnograficheskom Otnoshenii," Zhivaiia Starina 5, no. 2 (1895): 159.
"Unresponsive Natives "
183
69. Bogoras, Chukchee, 143-144.

70. "Vsepoddanneishii Otchet po Upravleniu Vostochnoi Sibiriiu za 1837 God," RGIA, f.
1281, op. 3, 1838, ed. khr. 116,1. 67-68.
71. Nikolai V. Sliunin, Sredi Chukchei (Moskva: Tip. A. I. Mamontova, 1896), 43; Eskii, "Sibirskie Inorodtsy: Chukchi," 258-259.
72. F. G. Safronov, Russkie Promisly i Torgi na Sevew-Vostoke Azii v XVlI-SeredineXIX
V (Moskva: Nauka, 1980), 119-120; Okun, OcherkipoIstoriiKolonialnoiPolitikiTsarizma
v Kamchatskom Krae, 82. Antropova and Kuznetsova,"Chukchi," 804; Nefedova, "Razvitie
Torgovikh Sviazei na Chukotke s Kontsa XVIII do Seredini XIX V "101. About the Anui
fair also see John Dundas Cochrane, "Narratives of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia
and Siberian Tartary," DRHA, roll 1, vol. 3, 346-353; Argentov, "Nizhne-Kolymskii Krai,"
440; Bogoras, Chukchee, 56-58.
73. Vagin, Istoricheskiia Sviedieniia o Dieiatelnosti Graf a M. M. Speranskago v Sibiri s
1819po 1822 God, vol. 1,299,311 ; vol. 2,606-607. See more about this trade in Nefedova,
"Razvitie Torgovikh Sviazei na Chukotke s Kontsa XVIII do Seredini XIX V,"103; M-v,
"Chukotskaia Zemlia i Eiyo Obitateli," Missioner, no. 47 (1877): 385; Unterberger,
Priamurskii Krai, 324; Konstantin V Elnitskii, Inorodtsy Sibiri i Sredneaziatskikh Vladienii
Rossii: Etnograficheskie Ocherki (St. Petersburg: Izd. M. M. Gutzatsa, 1908), 70; Antropova
and Kuznetsova,"Chukchi," 803.
74. Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 271.
75. F. G. Safronov, Russkie Promisly i Torgi, 119; G. S. Abramov, "RossiiskoAmerikanskaia Kompania i Eiyo Roi v Razvitii Torgovikh Otnoshenii na Severo-Vostoke,"
in Ocherki Istorii Chukotki s Drevneishikh Vremen do Nashikh Dnei, ed. N. N. Dikov
(Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1974), 108-109; "izvestiiaiZametki" Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3,
no. 20(1898): 188-189.

77. Vagin, Istoricheskiia Sviedieniia o Dieiatelnosti Grafa M. M. Speranskago v Sibiri s
1819 po 1822 God, vol. 1, 298.
78. Z. V. Gogolev, Iakutiia na Rubezhe XIX i XX Vekov (Novosibirsk: Nauka Sibirskoe
Otdelenie, 1970), 59.
79. Argentov, Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika Andreia Argentova, 12; Okun,
Ocherki po Istorii Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae, 83.
80. Vagin, Istoricheskiia Sviedieniia o Dieiatelnosti Grafa M. M. Speranskago v Sibiri s
1819po 1822 God, vol. 1,297-298; Okun, Ocherki po Istorii Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma
v Kamchatskom Krae, 83; Bogoras, Chukchee, 701.
81. Bogoras, Chukchee, 44. For instance, as early as 1815 they sent complimentary gifts
of fox furs to the Russuan czar Alexander I. "O Pripodnesenii Aleksandru I v Dar ot Chukchei
Shkur Lisits," RGIA, f. 797, op. 2, 1815, ed. khr. 629,1. 12. Andrei Argentov, a missionary
to the Chukchi, provided a detailed description of this "complimentary tribute" he witnessed in the Anui fort. Argentov, Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika Andreia
Argentova, 25.
82. Vdovin, Ocherki Istorii i Etnografii Chukchei, 243.
83. "Delo o Vvedenii Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda Sredi Chukchei," 1. 7.
85. Bogoras, Chukchee, 705; Nefedova, "Razvitie Torgovikh Sviazei na Chukotke s Kontsa
XVIII do Seredini XIX V," 103.
86. Abramov, "Rossiisko-Amerikanskaia Kompania i Eiyo Roi v Razvitii Torgovikh Otno-
184
shenii na Severo-Vostoke," 111; Bogoras, Chukchee, 708; Antropova and Kuznetsova,"

Chukchi," 804; Nefedova, "Pravitelstvennaia Aktivizatsia na Severo-Vostoke," in Ocherki
Istorii Chukotki s Drevneishikh Vremen do Nashikh Dnei, ed. N. N. Dikov (Novosibirsk:
Nauka, 1974), 122.
87. Ernest S. Burch, "War and Trade," in Crossroads of Continents: Cultures of Siberia
and Alaska, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Aron Crowell (Washington, DC: Smithsonian
Institution Press, 1988), 238-240; Sliunin, Sredi Chukchei, 16-17; "Delo o Vvedenii
Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda Sredi Chukchei," 1.6; Jochelson, "Zametki o Naselenii
Iakutskoi Oblasti v Istoriko-Etnograficheskom Otnoshenii," 158.
88. Kallinikov, Nash Krainii Sievero-Vostok, 54.
89. "Delo o Vvedenii Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda Sredi Chukchei," 1. 20 ob.
91. For territorial expansion of the reinde.er Chukchi in the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, see Gurvich, Etnicheskaia Istoria Severo-Vostoka Sibiri, 116, 189-191.
92. "Vsepoddanneishii Otchet po Upravleniu Vostochnoi Sibiriiu za 1859," RGIA, f.
1281, op. 6, 1860, ed. khr. 105,1. 2, 550-557; Jochelson, "Zametki o Naselenii Iakutskoi
Oblasti v Istoriko-Etnograficheskom Otnoshenii," 155.
93. Suvorov, "Zapiski Sviashchennika Petra Suvorova o Poezdke v Chukotskiia
Zhilishcha," 142-143.
94. Sliunin, Sredi Chukchei, 16; N. E-skii, "Sibirskie Inorodtsy: Chukchi," Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 2, no. 15 (1898): 298; Leontiev, "Chukotka v Period Razvitiia Kapitalizma v
Rossii," 127.
95. Krause and Krause, To the Chukchi Peninsula and to the Tlingit Indians, 92.
96. Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 281.
97. I. I. Gapanovich, Rossiia v Severo-Vostochnoi Azii (Peiping: Pekinskaia Russkaia
Missiia, 1933), 135.
98. In their 1881-1882 travel narratives, the Krause brothers and I. W. Shklovsky in his
1890s observations indicated that the coastal Chukchi and Yupik knew English language
quite well. Krause and Krause, To the Chukchi Peninsula and to the Tlingit Indians, 45, 68;
Shklovsky, In Far North-East Siberia, 134. See also the Krauses' interesting remark about
one coastal Chukchi village: "The inhabitants of Uedle were not aware of being part of
Russia." Krause and Krause, To the Chukchi Peninsula and to the Tlingit Indians, 70.
99. Amphilokhy (Anton Vakulsky), "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal Pokrovskoi Tserkvi v
Mikhailovskom Redute na 1910 God i Dlia Chukotskoi Missii," Archive of the Russian
Orthodox Church in Alaska (Juneau: Alaska Division of State Libraries and Museums,
1975), roll 10,1.40, 42.
100. Abramov, "Rossiisko-Amerikanskaia Kompania i Eiyo Roi v Razvitii Torgovikh
Otnoshenii na Severo-Vostoke," 111.
101. Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 269; N. E-skii, "Sibirskie Inorodtsi: Chukchi," 358.
102. Leontiev, "Chukotka v Period Razvitiia Kapitalizma v Rossii," 131-132.
103. Nefedova, "Iasachnaia Politika Russkogo Tsarizma na Chukotke," 30; Shirokov, "K
Istorii Goroda Anadiria," 15.
104. "Po Voprosu o Neobkhodimosti Priniatiia Raznago Roda Meropriatii na Chukotskom
Poluostrove i v Kamchatskoi Oblasti," RGIA, f. 1284, op. 185, 1910, ed. khr. 40,1. 15-16;
Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 273.
105. "Delo o Vvedenii Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda Sredi Chukchei," 1. 5.
106. "Po Voprosu o Neobkhodimosti Priniatiia Raznago Roda Meropriatii na Chukotskom
Poluostrove i v Kamchatskoi Oblasti," 1. 15-16.
185
107. Leontiev, "Chukotka v Period Razvitiia Kapitalizma v Rossii," 126.

108. As early as 1791 Catherine the Great issued a special memorandum to General Pil
concerning the Chukchi, specifying, "It will be helpful to distribute among the most important of their toions medals of which twenty silver and eighty copper ones you will soon
receive/' Okun, Ocherkipo Istorii Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae, 82.
109. Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 280; Nefedova, "Iasachnaia Politika Russkogo
Tsarizma na Chukotke," 30; Vdovin, "Istoriia i Kultura Chukchei v Dooktiabrskii Period,"
134-135; "Delo o Vvedenii Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda Sredi Chukchei," 1. 4.
110. Polnoe Sobranie Zakonov Rossiiskoi Imperil, 2nd sen, vol. 47, no. 51180;
Natsionalnaia Politika v Imperatorskoi Rossii, 227-229; "Zhurnal Komiteta Ministrov po
Predstavleniu Ministra Gosudarstvennikh Imushchestv o Razreshenii Nagrazhdat'
Dolzhnostnikh Lits Chukotskih Obshchestv i Drugikh Narodov Sibiri Formennimi Kaftanami
i o Razreshenii im Nosit' Kortiki," RG1A, f. 1263, op. 414, 1872, ed. khr. 3592,1. 335 ob339.
111. "PoOtnosheniuGeneral-GubernatoraVostochnoi Sibiri o Nagrazhdenii Medaliami
Glavnago Erema Chukotskago Naroda Amravurgina i Drugikh Piati Chukchei," 1. 7.
112. Ibid.
113. Bogoras, Chukchee, 543; Vdovin, "Istoriia i Kultura Chukchei v Dooktiabrskii Period," 134-135.
114. Bogoras, Chukchee, 703; "Delo o Vvedenii Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda
Sredi Chukchei," 1. 2.
115. Vdovin, Ocherki Istorii i Etnografii Chukchei, 247; Leontiev, "Chukotka v Period
Razvitiia Kapitalizma v Rossii," 135.
117. Elnitskii, Inorodtsy Sibiri i Sredneaziatskikh Vladienii Rossii, 67.
119. "Delo o Vvedenii Obshchestvennogo Upravlenia i Suda Sredi Chukchei," 1. 20 ob.
120. Ibid., 1. 2.
121. Ibid., 1.22 ob.
122. Ibid., 1.21.
123. "Po Voprosu o Neobkhodimosti Priniatiia Raznago Roda Meropriatii naChukotskom
Poluostrove i v Kamchatskoi Oblasti," 1. 1.
124. M-v, "Chukotskaia Zemlia i Eiyo Obitateli " Missioner, no. 46 (1877): 378.
125. Henry Landsdell, Through Siberia (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co., 1882),
647.
126. The way Argentov challenged Tnepo's words shows how the Christian doctrine of
afterlife clashed with the general stance of the Chukchi beliefs. Specifically, Argentov asked
the native shaman, "When you, Chukchi, enter the other world, God will notice that you
were not stupid and wicked, but smart and sweet people. But, at the same time, he might be
surprised how it happened that all your life you had cared only about the reindeer and did
not take any care about your souls." Argentov, Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika
Andreia Argentova, 41-42. See the Tnepo story in the interpretation of two other authors,
one a nineteenth-century Orthodox writer and the other a present-day American historian:
N. Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei," in Pamiatnik Trudov PravoslavnykhBlagoviestnikov
Russkikh s 1793 do 1853 Goda, ed. Alexandru Sturdza (Moskva: Tip. V. Gote, 1857), 343344; Yuri Slezkine, "Savage Christians or Unorthodox Russians? Missionary Dilemma in
Siberia," in Between Heaven and Hell The Myth of Siberia in Russian Culture, ed. Yuri
Slezkinre and Galya Diment (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1993), 26.
186

128. Argentov, "Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago Prikhoda," 88; idem, "NizhneKolymskii Krai/' 447.
129. Amphilokhy, "Bogosluzhebnii Zhurnal na 1909 God Pokrovskoi Tserkvi v
Mikhailovskom Redute," roll 10,1. 112.
130. Argentov, "Nizhne-Kolymskii Krai," 445.
132. Bogoras himself repeated his critical assessment of the Chukchi missionaries in
1930. Vladimir [Waldemar] Bogoras, "Prezhde na Severe," Sovetskii Sever, no. 1 (1930):
71-73.
133. Okun, Ocherkipo Istorii Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae, 98101.
134. T. A. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii: Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v Sibiri v Sviazi s
Opisaniem Byta, Nravov, Obychaev i Religioznykh Vierovanii Inorodtsev Etogo Kraia (St.
Petersburg: Tip. P. P. Soikina,1897), 155-161.
135. Pisma Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i Kolomenskago: 1865-1878, ed. Ivan
Barsukov (St. Petersburg: SinodalnaiaTip., 1897), vol. 1, 272.
136. M-v, "Chukotskaia Zemlia i Eiyo Obitateli," Missioner, no. 47 (1877): 386.
137. Molitva Gospodnia, Simvol Very i Desiat Zapovedei Zakona Bozhiia, trans.
Mordovsky and Kobelev (Irkutsk: Irkutskoe Otdelenie, Rossiiskoe Bibleiskoe Obshchestvo,
1821); Mushkin, "Missioneri u Chaukchei," 345.
Zhilishcha," 136-137.
139. F. P. Vrahgel, Puteshestvie po Severnim Beregam Sibiri i po Ledovitomu Moriu:
1820-1824 (Moskva: Izdatelstvo Glavsevmorputi, 1948), 388. This story can also be found
in Bogoras, Chukchee, 726; Shklovsky, In Far North-East Siberia, 135.
140. Cochrane, "Narratives of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia and Siberian Tartary,"
346; Vagin, Istoricheskiia Sviedieniia o Dieiatelnosti Grafa M. M. Speranskago v Sibiri s
1819 po 1822 God, vol. 1,301.
141. Ibid., 314.
142. Cochrane, "Narratives of a Pedestrian Journey through Russia and Siberian Tartary,"
346.
143. Okun, Ocherkipo Istorii Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae, 97.
144. Trudy Pravoslavnikh Missii Vostochnoi Sibiri, vol. 2, 135.
145. Veniamonov, "Sostoyanie Pravoslavnoi Tserkvi v Rossiiskoi Amerike," in Pamiatnik
Trudov Pravoslavnykh Blagovestnikov Russkikh s 1793 do 1853 Goda, ed. Alexandru Sturdza
(Moskva: Tip. V. Got'e, 1857), 237.
146. Trudy Pravoslavnikh Missii Vostochnoi Sibiri, vol. 2, 134-135.
148. The midnineteenth-century Russian author N. Mushkin argued that the Chukchi
were exposed to Orthodoxy for the first time in 1780. Mushkin, "Missioneri u Chaukchei,"
332.
149. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii, 134; Zinovii Vinokurov, "Kratkie Svedeniia o Chukchakh,"
Iakutskie Eparkhialnie Viedomosii, no. 6 (1890): 89.
150. Shishigin, Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v lakutii, 71; Okun, Ocherki po Istorii
Kolonialnoi Politiki Tsarizma v Kamchatskom Krae, 97.
151. Bogoras, Chukchee, 726; Dogurevich, Sviet Azii, 134; Mushkin, "Missioneri u Chaukchei," 328-329. See Sleptsov's diary for 1812: RGIA, f. 797, op. 4699, 1812,1. 55-67.
187
152. "O Kreshchenii Sviashchennikom Iakutskoi Dukhovnoi Missii Trifonovim 10

Chelovek Chukchei," RGIA, f. 796, op. 99, 1818, ed. khr. 1118; Sliunin, Sredi Chukchei,
37; Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei," 328-329; Argentov, Putevie Zapiski Missionen
Sviashchennika Andreia Argentova, 10. The missionary Vereshchagin mentioned that he
had borrowed translated commandments and prayers from Trifonov. Roman Vereshchagin
to Bishop Veniaminov, "Pokorneishii Raport," April 1845, Anadyr, Diocese Administration, Chukchee Mission, ARCA, roll 40.
154. Vereshchagin to Veniaminov, "Pokorneishii Raport."
155. Dogurevich, SvietAzii, 155; Prokopii Gromov, "Istoriko-Statisticheskoe Opisanie
Kamchatskikh Tserkvei." Trudy Kievskoi Dukhovnoi Akademii, no. 2 (1861): 168.
156. Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei," 333.
157. Suvorov, "Pokhodnii Zhurnal Missionera Sviashchennika Petra Suvorova vo Vremia
Poezdki Ego v Anuiskuiu Krepost v 1860 Godu," 119, 121.
158. Ivan Veniaminov, Tvoreniia Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago, ed. Ivan Barsukov
(Moskva: SynodalnaiaTip., 1887), vol. 2, 143.
159. Ivan Veniaminov, "Ob Otpravlenii Missionera na Reku Anadyr Dlia Obrashcheniia
Chukchei v Pravoslavnuiu Veru: Gizhiginskoi Spasskoi Tserkvi Sviashchenniku Romanu
Vereshchaginu Predpisanie," February 27, 1843, Anadyr Conversion Reports, Chukchi
Mission, ARCA, roll 40.
160. Ibid.
161. Idem, Tvoreniia Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago, vol. 2, 143, 220.
162. Ibid., 221; idem, "Bishop Innocent's Letter," Orthodox Alaska 7, no. 1 (1969): 19.
163. Roman Vereshchagin, "Metricheskaia Kniga Novokreshchennikh za 1844,
Anadyrskaia Missiia," Anadyr, Diocese Administration, Chukchee Mission, 1843-1844,
ARCA, roll 40.
164. Ivan Veniaminov, Tvoreniia Innokentiia, Mitropolita Moskovskago, ed. Ivan Barsukov
(Moskva: SynodalnaiaTip., 1886), vol. 1, 252.
165. Vereshchagin to Veniaminov, "Pokorneishii Raport," September 1, 1845. Anadyr.
Diocese Administration. Chukchi Mission, ARCA, roll 40.
166. Dogurevich, SvietAzii, 155; Pisma Innokentia, Mitropolita Moskovskago i
Kolomenskago: 1828-1878, vol. 1,255; "Klirovaia Viedomost Anuiskoi Missii Nikolskoi i
Innokentievskoi Chasoven za 1851," Anadyr Parish Records, Church/Clergy Registers, St.
Nicholas Chapel and St. Innokentii Chapel, 1848-1851, ARCA, roll 40.
167. Alexander Trifonov to Bishop Veniaminov, "Pokorneishii Raport," March 20, 1845,
Anadyr, Diocese Administration, Chukchee Mission," ARCA, roll 40.
168. Dogurevuch, SvietAzii, 157; S.P. Nefedova, "Khristianizatsiia Chukchei, Evenov,
Yukagirov, Chuvantsev," in Ocherki Istorii Chukotki s Drevneishikh Vremen do Nashikh
Dnei,ed. N. N. Dikov (Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1974), 128; Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei,"
334, 336.
169. Dogurevich, Sviet Azii, 156; Argentov, "Opisanie Nikolaevskago Chaunskago
Prikhoda," 81-106.
170. Mushkin, "Missionen u Chaukchei," 334, 337, 345.
171. Nefedova, "Khristianizatsiia Chukchei, Evenov, Yukagirov, Chuvantsev," 128.
172. Argentov, "Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika Andreia Argentova," Zapiski
Sibirskago Otdelenia Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva, no. 4 (1857): 47; idem,
Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika Andreia Argentova, 42-43.
188
Shamanism and
Christianity

174. Argentov, "Nizhne-Kolymskii Krai," 450-451.
175. Dogurevich, SvietAzii, 156, 159.
Poezdki Ego v Anuiskuiu Krepost v 1860 Godu," 123.
177. Ibid., 125. On the reindeer racing see Bogoras, Chukchee, 264-265; Sverdrup, Among
the Tundra People, 86-90.
178. Interestingly, the work by the Orthodox historian Dogurevich demonstrates how
myths were shaped about "eager" responses of the Chukchi to Christianity. First, by ignoring the nature of of the Chukchi visit to the Anui fair, this historian downplayed the general
context of the baptism. Second, Dogurevich described the meeting of Khotto and Suvorov
as a totally Chukchi initiative. Dogurevuch, SvietAzii, 160.
180. "O Chukotskoi Dukhovnoi Missii 1871," RGIA, f. 796, op. 152, 1871, ed.'khr.
1527,1.5-6,23-24.
181. Bogoras, Chukchee, 725; Dogurevich, SvietAzii, 160.
182. "Iakutskaia Pravoslavnaia Missiia v 1873 Godu," Missioner, no. 23 (1875): 180.
183. Nikodim, "Svedenia o Stanakh Chukotskoi Missii," 1. 7 ob; "O Nagrazhdenii
Kamchatskago 2-oi Gildii Kuptsa Baramigina i Chukotskago Toiona Amravurgina Ordenom
Sviatoi Anni 3-ei Stepeni za Postroenie imi Dereviannoi Chasovni i Khrama," RGIA, f. 796,
op. 155, 1874, ed. khr. 1539, 1-2, 13.
184. "Pokhoroni Chukotskago Toiona pri Sredne-Kolymskom Sobore," lakutskie
Eparkhialnie Vedomosti, no. 16 (1898): 243-247; Zinovii Vinokurov, "Kratkie Svedeniia o
Chukchakh," 89.
185. Sliunin, Sredi Chukchei, 38; "Po Voprosu o Neobkhodimosti Priniatiia Raznago
Roda Meropriatii na Chukotskom Poluostrove i v Kamchatskoi Oblasti," I. 4, 15-16.
186. "O Chukotskoi Dukhovnoi Missii 1871," 1. 23-24.
187. Bishop of Yakutsk and Viliusk Nikodim, "Svedenia o Stanakh Chukotskoi Missii i
Pokhodnikh Svishchennikah Iakutskoi Eparkhii," RGIA, f. 796, op. 440, 1894, ed. khr.
1268,1.2 ob-3.
188. Ibid., 1.4.
189. Nikodim, "Svedenia o Stanakh Chukotskoi Missii," I. 5 ob-7; Trudy Pravoslavnikh
Missii Vostochnoi Sibiri, vol. 2, 134-135, 531.
190. "Otchet Chukotskoi Missii Iakutskoi Eparkhii 1899," lakutskie Eparkhialnie
Viedomosti, no. 18 (1900): 246; I. Trifonov, "Otchet O Sostoyanii i Dietel'nosti Iakutskogo
Eparkhialnogo Komiteta Pravoslavnogo Missionerskago Obshchestva i Missii Iakutskoi
Eparkhii za 1897 God," lakutskie Eparkhialnie Viedomosti, no. 10 (1898): 150; Bogoras,
Chukchee, 729.
191. Hiermonk Venedict, "U Chukchei: Dnevnik Venedicta," PravoslavnyiBlagoviestnik
1, no. 5 (1895): 248-255; Bogoras, Chukchee, 727-729.
192. Bishop of Alaska Innokentii, "Otchet o Sostoianii Aliaskinskago Viktoriatstva za
1908 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 13, no. 8 (1909): 144-145. Moreover,
Petelin compiled a Russian-Chukchi dictionary, which indicates his deep interest in the
Chukchi language. Mikhail Petelin, Russko-Chukotskii Slovar(Opyt) (Kazan: Tipo-lit. Imp.
Universiteta, 1898). See also Petelin's travel journal: Mikhail Petelin, "Putevoi Zhurnal
Missionera Chukotskoi Missii, Elombaiskago Stana, Sviashchennika Mikhaila Petelina za
189
1902 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 14 (1903): 265-271 ; 2, no. 16 (1903): 343349; 3, no. 18 (1903): 61-66; 3, no. J9 (1903): 102-109.
193. Bishop Nikanor, "K Uluchsheniu Missionerstva na Dalnem Severe," Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 1, no. 8 (1903): 363-365.
194. Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 13, no. 8 (1909): 145; "Delo o Rassmotrenii
v Sinode Raportov Arkhiepiskopa Aleutskago i Severo-Amerikanskago Tikhona ot 6
Oktiabria 1905 G. i Episkopa Iakutskogo i Viluiskogo Makaria ot 26 Aprelia 1906 ob Otkritii
Missii v Selenii Nikolskom Chukotskogo Poluostrova Dlia Prosveshchenia Chukchei i o
Peredache Chukotskoi Missii v Vedenie Vikaria Aleutskoi Eparkhii," RGIA, f. 796, op. 186,
1905, edkhr. 5975,1.6-7.
195. See more about Amphilokhy in Orthodox America, 1794-1976: Development of the
Orthodox Church in America, ed. Constance J. Tarasar and John H. Erickson (Syosset, NY:
The Orthodox Church in America Department of History and Archives, 1975), 289-290.
Mikhailovskom Redute," 1. 123; idem, "Paskha v Sugrobakh Snega: Iz Moikh Starikh
Vospominanii na Missionerskoi Sluzhbe," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 28, no.
4 (1927): 53-54; idem, "Ispovedalnaia Viedomost Chukotskoi Missii na Chukotskom
Poluostrove za 1910 God," Chukotka Peninsula Vital Statistics, Separate Report 19W,ARCA,
roll 41; Kallinikov, Nash Krainii Sievero-Vostok, 50; Innokentii, "Otchet o Sostoianii
Alaskinskago Viktoriatstva za 1908 God," 146; Unterberger, Priamurskii Krai, 283.
Mikhailovskom Redute," 1. 122, 126-130, 139. See some published excerpts from
Amphilokhy's diary: "Pokhod Po Aleutskim Ostrovam: Iz Bukhty Provideniia na Vostochnii
Mys (Dezhnevo)," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 15, no. 11 (1911): 205-208;
15, no. 12 (1911): 219-220.
198. Alexander Iavlovsky, "Dnevnik Missionera Senkelskogo Stana, Sviashchennika
Alexandra Iavlovskogo," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 2-3 (1916): 180.
199. "Usloviia Uspekha Missionerskoi Deiatelnosti Mezhdu Chukchami v Iakutskoi
Oblasti," Missioner, no. 5 (1874): 48-49; Hiermonk Venedict, "O Vlianiii Khristianstva na
Chukchei," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 24 (1892): 21 ; Nikodim, "Svedenia o Stanakh
Chukotskoi Missii," 1. 7.
200. "Otchet o Sostoianii Iakutskoi Eparkhii za 1915 God," RGIA, f. 796, op. 442,1916,
ed. krh. 2745,1. 160-161.
202. Venedict, "O Vlianiii Khristianstva na Chukchei," 20-21.
203. Vdovin/'Vlianie Khristianstva na Religioznie Verovania Chukchei i Koriakov," 99.
204. Trudy Pravoslavnikh Missii Vostochnoi Sibiri, vol. 2, 148.
205. "Otchet o Sostoianii Iakutskoi Eparkhii za 1915 God," 1. 171.
206. Iavlovsky, "Dnevnik Missionera Senkelskogo Stana," 183; "Otchet o Sostoianii
Iakutskoi Eparkhii za 1915 God," 1. 171.
207. Mikhail Petelin, "Putevoi Zhurnal Missionera Chukotskoi Missii, Elombaiskago
Stana, Sviashchennika Mikhaila Petelina za 1902 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no.
14 (1903): 269.
208. Vdovin, "Vlianie Khristianstva na Religioznie Verovania Chukchei i Koriakov,"
106; idem, "Chukotskie Shamany i Ikh Sotsialnie Funktsii," in Problemy Istorii
Obshchestvennogo Soznania AborigenovSibiri,
1981), 208; Bogoras, Chukchee, 44.
ed. Innokentii S. Vdovin (Leningrad: Nauka,
190

210. Argentov, Putevie Zapiski Missionera Sviashchennika Andreia Argentova, 44.
211. Mikhail Petelin, "Putevoi Zhurnal Missionera Chukotskoi Missii, Elombaiskago
Stana, Sviashchennika Mikhaila Petelina za 1902 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no.
16 (1903): 344.
212. Ibid., 345.
213. Trudy Pravoslavnikh Missii Vostochnoi Sibiri, vol. 2, 153-154.
214. "Iakutskaia Pravoslavnaia Missiia v 1873 Godu" Missioner, no. 23 (1875): 181.
Zhilishcha," 137.
216. Idem, "Pokhodnii Zhurnal Missionera Sviashchennika Petra Suvorova vo Vremia
217. Innokentii S. Vdovin, "Prirodai Chelovek v Religioznikh Predstavleniiakh Chukchei,"
in Priroda i Chelovek v Religioznikh Predstavleniakh Narodov Sibiri i Severn, ed. Innokentii
S. Vdovin (Leningrad: Nauka, 1976), 228-229.
218. Sverdrup, Among the Tundra People, 147.
219. Statisticheskiia Dannyia, 106.
220. Nikodim, "Sveldenia o Stanakh Chukotskoi Missii," 1. 4 ob.
221. Still, despite his knowledge of the basics of Chukchi language, Petelin frequently
traveled with an interpreter, Georgii Diachkov, an Even native, who helped him deliver
sermons. Petelin stressed in his journal that "all spiritual and moral talks were conducted
through an interpreter." Mikhail Petelin, "Putevoi Zhurnal Missionera Chukotskoi Missii,
Elombaiskago Stana, Sviashchennika Mikhaila Petelina za 1902 God," Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 3, no. 19(1903): 106.
222. A. V. Olsufiev, Obshchii Ocherk Anadyrskoi Okrugi, Eiyo Ekonomicheskago
Sostoianiia iByta Naselenia (Khabarovsk: Priamurskii Otdel Russkago Geograficheskago
Obshchestva, 1896), 108.
223. Sliunin, "Ekonomicheskoe Polozhenie Inorodtsev Sievero-Vostochnoi Sibiri," 186.
224. Aleksii, Irkutskii Missionerskii Siezd, 19.
225. Archbishop of Kamchatka and Seoul Nestor, Moia Kamchatka: Zapiski Pravoslavnogo Missionera (Moskva: Sviato-Troitskaia Sergieva Lavra, 1995), 223.
226. Kallinikov, Nash Krainii Sievero-Vostok, 55.
227. Kuzmina,"The Effect of the Confessional Factor on Ethnicity," 367.
228. Petr M. Golovachev, Sibir: Priroda, Liudi, Zhizn (Moskva: I. D. Sytin, 1905), 57.
229. Nikolai M. Iadrintsev, Sibirskie Inorodtsy, Ikh Byt i Sovremennoe Polozhenie:
Etnograficheskiia i Statisticheskiia Izsliedovaniia s Prilozheniem Statisticheskikh Tablits
(St. Petersburg: Izd. I. M. Sibiriakova, 1891), 171.
232. Marie Antoinette Czaplickz, My Siberian Year (London: Mills & Boon, 1916), 187188.
233. Golovachev, Sibir: Priroda, Liudi, Zhizn, 176.
234. Czaplicka, My Siberian Year, 188.
235. Ibid., 188, 191-193.
236. Bogoras, Chukchee, 463, 730.
237. Nestor, Moia Kamchatka, 16.
238. Bishop of Alaska Innokentii, "Otchet o Sostoianii Alaskinskago Viktoriatstva za
1908 God," Russian-American Orthodox Messenger 13, no. 7 (1909): 133.
191
239. Vdovin,"Vlianie Khristianstva na Religioznie Verovania Chukchei i Koriakov," 96.

240. Shishigin, Rasprostranenie Khristianstva v Iakutii, 96.
241. Chesnokov, "Olen' v Kulture Severo-Vostochnikh Paleoaziatov," 76.
KUZNETSK
DISTRICT
SB
BARNAUL
''
\DISTRICT
sulRiver
Nizhnii UimonV^ Chibit

\Katun River_
>v /v fe, Kosh-Agach
KAZAKHSTAN
Map 5.1 Major native groups in Altai
Dialogues about Spirit and Power: Altaian

Natives and the Russian Orthodox Mission,
1828-1917
Missionaries send these people [catechists] to preach Christianity. Now you see what
you should believe in. We must think about this, especially you, young people, because soon all of us will be baptized. Our czar is baptized, and he wishes that we also
share his faith. They say that he also gives tribute exemption for three years to those
who adopt baptism.
Chotpok-Pash, a Shor leader (1884)
But with most of them God was not well pleased, for their bodies were scattered in the
wilderness.
1 Corinthians 10:5
We appeal to the spirit of Altai and pray
Make our stock healthy
Make our life better
Give our people happy life.
from a Burkhanist prayer
Altai is like the "Palestine" of Inner Asia. For centuries this small area, located at
the intersection of the Russian, Chinese, and Mongolian borders, was a place where
Orthodox, Old Believer, Lamaist, and shamanist traditions interacted with each
other. This makes Altai extremely attractive for scholars who research religious
syncretism/One of the interesting aspects of these interactions is the relationship
between shamanism and Orthodox Christianity. Unfortunately, until recently scholarship had hardly addressed this topic. Those anthropologists who have researched
Altaian religions have been primarily interested in indigenous shamanism, seeking "genuine" and "authentic" native beliefs. These scholars frequently downplay
almost one hundred years of contacts between native Altaians and the Russian
Orthodox mission and stress the persistence of the Altaian shamanism. For instance, N. A. Alekseev and E. V. Revunenkova emphasized the superficial character
194
of native Christianization and stressed the persistence of indigenous religion.1 In

his recent work, L. P. Potapov similarly concludes:
The Altaian shamanism endured in spite of the influence of Orthodox populations and the
policy of active advancement of Christianity carried by the Orthodox Mission. Moreover,
shamanism maintained its dogmas, ceremonial practice and active believers although it
lacked institutionalized preachers and propaganda.2
The first specific works that discussed the history of activities of Orthodox missionaries in native Altai were written by N. Y. Khrapova and A. M. Sagalaev (1984).
The first work is tailored according to "classical" standards of Soviet social scholarship and asserts that Russian missionaries were subservient agents of imperial
colonialism. Khrapova also argues that clerics acted as "traders-missionaries,"
who did not care at all about Christianization and native well-being. She summarizes such generalizations with the conclusion: "Nothing in missionary activities
points to pure enlightening ideas. Everything was subordinated to their quest for
enrichment and profit."3 Khrapova dismisses educational achievements accomplished by missionaries and their attempts to protect the interests of native
populations, and emphasizes only the negative aspects of mission activities, specifically the seizure of some native lands by two monasteries. On the basis of these
separate facts she concludes that the Orthodox mission occupied the most valuable native pastures and contributed to the shrinkage of Altaians' land domain.
Sagalaev's paper, which is more balanced, explores a variety of primary documents, particularly statistical materials about the number of converted natives. The
author essentially reduces his discussion of native-missionary contacts to the question of whether the Russian Orthodox mission failed or succeeded in evangelization
of natives. His general conclusion states that the clerics failed to reach the natives
and natives remained shamanists.4 Unfortunately, he ignores the complexity of
native relations with clerics and does not show the differences that existed in Altaian
responses to Orthodoxy in southern pastoral areas and the northern forest region.
Some researchers were ambivalent about missionary activities. Such prominent
student of Altaians' history and anthropology as (1953) in his general history of
the Altaians stresses that the direct influence of Christianity on natives was harmful, but in a long-term perspective, Christianization became a blessing, since the
Russian church linked Siberian natives to the "more advanced" Russian culture.
Although, according to Potapov, the Altai mission allegedly neglected native material well-being, clerics helped erase "primitive shamanistic beliefs" that allegedly
devastated native economies by necessitating numerous sacrifices. They also introduced advanced forms of agriculture and progressive living. "Russian people
taught the Altaians more broad and intensive utilization of the natural resources
through employment of new methods of production." Simply put, Potapov depicts
priests as cultural heroes who upgraded "primitive natives."5 One of the recent
studies by Modorov (1996) essentially follows the same pattern. On the one hand,
Modorov believes that the mission acted as a "reliable agent" of the government's
Dialogues about Spirit and Power
195
colonial policy. Like Potapov, he disregards the cultural interactions of shamanism

and Christianity in Altai, and native syncretism and writes that the mission "deprived the natives who came under its influence of their spiritual identity." On the
other hand, he stresses that the Altaian mission contributed a great deal to the
"civilization" of natives, especially in the first period of its activities.6
At the present time, some Russian students of the Altaian mission have capitalized on this appraisal and switched from severe critique of Orthodox missionaries
to praise of clerics' activities. The latter might be partially explained by the general
rise of nationalism in present-day Russia, which makes the Russian Orthodox church
and its missionary activities a fashionable research topic. Almost all recent Russian discussions of Christian-native interactions in Altai still revolve around the
question of whether missionaries succeeded or failed in converting natives. A common conclusion nowadays is that the mission did succeed. Two students of the
Altai missionaries, D. V. Katsuba and Kh. V. Poplavskaia, even go so far as to
suggest that the "positive experience" accumulated by the nineteenth-century missionaries in the fields of native welfare and resolving of ethnic and religious conflicts
might be used in the present day.7 In addition, Katsuba insists that shamanism
"hindered" natives' "economic and cultural development" achieved under the influence of Russian culture and therefore "is related to the negative aspects of the
traditional culture of the nomadic Altaians, Shores and Teleuts and other peoples "8
Khrapova now stresses that the activities of Makarii Glukharev, the founder of the
Altai mission (Figure 5.1), not only pursued narrow religious goals, but were directed to enlightening natives in order to attach the Altaians to the "values of the
world culture."9 Vladimir Eroshov and Valerii Kimeev, the major Russian students
of the history of the Altaian mission, have similarly generalized about the civilizing role Orthodox missionaries allegedly performed among the "backward" natives.
Though their work is very well grounded in primary sources and stands out as the
most comprehensive, these scholars do not address Altaian creative interactions
with Christianity and do not attempt to explore native motives for adoption of
Orthodoxy.10
It should be mentioned, however, that in 1986 Sagalaev produced original work
that goes far beyond his previous and more simplistic approach and did make an
attempt to show how native Altaians reinterpreted elements of Lamaism and Orthodoxy. Although he again did not address the variety of native responses to these
religions and downplayed the influence of Christianity on the indigenous world view,
his paper broke new ground in the discussion. Unfortunately, the present works
show that his approach has not yet found a response among Russian students of
Altaian native evangelization. In Western scholarship the first work that explored
native-missionary relations in Altai was written by David Collins. ' ' Until the present
day his article remains the best succinct review of the history of the Altai Orthodox
mission both in Russia and in the West. Collins not only drew attention of scholars
to this neglected topic, but also showed that the perception of Altai missionaries as
loyal agents of colonialism is too simplistic.
Figure 5.1. Makarii Glukharev, the founder of the Altai Orthodox Mission.
Photograph from the portrait courtesy of the Tomsk State Historical and Architectural Museum (#TOKM 10973).
197
Still, we do not have enough balanced studies that address the problem of interactions between missionaries and Altaians as well as a native religious syncretism.
To view religious processes in the region as a cultural persistence or insist that the
missionaries educated the Altaians in the spirit of more advanced Russian civilizations hardly helps one to grasp the complexity of a cultural dialogue between
shamanism and Christianity. Therefore, it is hard to accept the approach to the
history of the Altaian native evangelization suggested recently by Poplavskaia
(1995), who still attempts to restrict the whole discussion to a simple dilemma:
missionary failure or success.12
NATIVE-RUSSIAN RELATIONSHIPS: NORTHEASTERN AND

SOUTHWESTERN REALMS
Russian penetration into Altai started in the seventeenth century, and by the end
of the eighteenth century the empire had annexed the northeastern and southwestern Altai regions. Despite incorporation into the empire, there existed telling
differences in the relationship between Russians and natives in each of these two
areas. The empire absorbed the northeastern groups of the Altaians during the
1640 and 1650s; the southwest was added in the 1750s. Also, the northeastern
communities established more intensive economic and social contacts with the
Russians than did the southwestern ones. The Kumandins, a northern group of
natives, paid tribute to the Russians as early as the 1620s.13
Unlike the northeastern part of Altai, the southwest in the seventeenth and in the
first half of the eighteenth century was exposed to the strong influence of Mongols,
who forced local tribes to join the Dzhungarian Federation with its center in northwestern Mongolia. These southwestern Altaians called themselves Oirot ("allies"),
and the legendary folk hero Oirot Khan personified this local tradition. Centuries
of cultural exchange with the Mongolians and with Chinese left visible marks on
southern Altaian culture, specifically in social relations, clothing, and language.
Despite close relationships with the Mongolian tradition, military raids of the
Dzungarians plundered the southwestern groups, so they appealed to the czar for
imperial protection.
The Russian empire, interested in cultivating loyal supporters on its southern
borders, not only granted them refuge, but also allowed the new subjects to retain
cultural and political autonomy. That meant, first of all, that the hereditary chiefs
of the nomads, zaisans, paid no tribute. Moreover, the empire attempted to integrate indigenous headmen into a colonial system by equating the position of zaisan
to the Russian rank of "major." Until the 1860s, the southwestern Altaians only
formally recognized Russian power, and the Cossacks saw the region as an enemy
borderline.14 Furthermore, from the end of the 1700s, as a result of inclusion of the
Altaians in the empire and the discontinuance of tribal wars, both geographical
areas saw a dramatic increase of the native population. Thus, from 1769 to 1897
the number of southern Altaians rose to eighteen thousand. Between 1858 and
198
1898 among the Kumandins, a sedentary northern group, the annual population
growth was 3 percent.15 These statistics suggest that, on the whole, in the nineteenth century native society in Altai did not face any serious demographic collisions
and did not die out, as some contemporary critics have argued.
As in other areas of Siberia and Alaska, the Russian interest in Altai was the
exploitation of fur resources, which they managed by imposing tribute payments
on all Altaians. Only later, in the 1860s, with the depletion of fur animals, did the
government switch to an intensive exploitation of agricultural and mineral resources
of the region. Besides the fur tribute, the Altaians paid twelve other taxes. In the
nineteenth century 26 percent of the Altaian income was earmarked as tribute or
taxes for the Russian government.16 The colonial administration used native chieftains to collect tribute in both the northeast (pashtyks) and the southwest (zaisans).
Until the 1880s, the empire did not interfere with native internal affairs and restricted itself to regular contacts with zaisans or pashtyks. All Altaians were under
the jurisdiction of the ispravnik, a district police chief, and simultaneously to that
of a Tomsk regional governor, who acted as a civilian representative of the empire.
Native zaisans and pashtyks acted as agents for these authorities.17
Although the empire did not control the internal life of the natives, the government divided traditional territories into tribute-collecting districts. These units were
designated in the northeast by a Russian word, volost, and by the Mongolian word
duchina in the southwest. Until the end of the nineteenth century the government
cultivated both zaisans and pashtyks as imperial tools of indirect control over natives. These leaders received gold medals from the empire as symbols of alleged
authority. In 1804, for instance, a Shor pashtyk visited St. Petersburg, where the
Russian emperor awarded him a gold medal. Later, both zaisans and pashtyks
obtained another standard token of power, a copper plate with the inscription "clan
elder" to be worn on their chest. At the same time, headmen's status depended not
only on imperial recognition, but also on their acknowledgment by fellow tribesmen as successful mediators between natives and Russians.
Prior to 1822, natives themselves had selected zaisans and pashtyks. Later, after
introduction of Speransky's Statute of Alien Administration in Siberia and the
beginning of the Altai mission, northeastern Altaians began electing chiefs approved by missionaries. Among the Shors, a northern group from the Kuznetsk
area, pashtyks were elected for three years and recruited exclusively from baptized
natives, although in the neighboring Biisk area, populated by nomads, indigenous
leadership remained hereditary.18 In southern and western areas, less exposed to
Russian influences, all natives still followed the traditional pattern and selected
leaders from an old tribal "aristocracy." In 1880, the Russian government formally
abolished the hereditary principle of zaisanlpashtyk succession in both the northeast and the southwest.19 Eventually, in 1912, native indirect rule based on internal
sovereignty received its second hardest blow from the government, which replaced
the remnants of the traditional system with the standard Russian administration
based on a territorial principle.
199
Northeastern Altai
In the northeast the very structure of native economies and residential patterns
made it easier for forest hunters and fishermen to adjust their lifeways to the demands of the colonial economy. From the end of the eighteenth century, when the
government voided the state monopoly on the fur trade, private merchants flooded
northern Altai and established strong connections with natives. On many occasions such relations were strengthened by intermarriages, the number of which
increased by the end of the nineteenth century. Many natives also switched to the
language of the newcomers. Thus, by this time, about 47 percent of the northern
Teleuts started to view Russian as their native language.20 Gradually, natives became integrated into a Russian trade network through numerous credit obligations.
At first, Russian-born merchants conducted their business in the area, but subsequently they started to cultivate local native agents to act as middlemen between
the Altaian groups and trade interests. A large number of such brokers were members of the local native leadership, which by tradition was accustomed to mediating
between colonizers and their fellow tribesmen.21
The northeastern Altaians connected themselves with fur traders economically,
politically, and socially. Additionally, natives developed regular contacts with Russian miners, who purchased from them meat and fish. Not surprisingly, missionaries
frequently wrote positive assessments of the northeastern tribes. According to Vasilii
Verbitskii, in practicing hunting, fishing, weaving nets for sale, and even agriculture on a small basis the Shors of the Mrass River lived a "clean and neat life."22 In
the same vein, he described his encounter with a native village that was involved in
a regular fishing trade with the Russian town of Kuznetsk. Verbitskii noted that
these Shors were "more civilized" than the other "wild savages" of the area.23
Officials and private traders concerned with regular fur tribute shipments encouraged excessive hunting. Although, according to Iadrintsev, they were turning
into "nomadic proletarians,"24 the Altaians were able to adjust their hunting and
gathering economy to the demands of the fur and forest nut trade, which allowed
them to maintain indigenous lifeways. S. P. Shevtsov indicated that by 1900 80
percent of the Shor families on the Kondoma and 90 percent on the Mrass River
practiced hunting. In some areas the percentage of such people was even higher, as
on the upper Mrass River, where 99.9 percent of the Shors hunted.25 At the end of
the nineteenth century, the population of sable living in Shor country diminished
to such a degree that traders replaced this forest "currency" with squirrel skins.
Furthermore, Russian merchants became interested in groundhog furs, which came
to dominate 50 percent of all Russian-native trade.26 As a result of the growth of
the fur market not only squirrels and groundhogs, but hoofed animals became
objects of commercial hunting.
Such diversity of the fur market allowed the Altaians in the north and the east to
retain and reproduce a hunting economy. Forest nut collecting, the second major
native occupation in this area, which also gave them access to the Russian market,
supplemented Altaian income, protecting them against fluctuations in fur prices.
200
The fur and forest nuts trade still played the most significant role in Russiannative commerce until the 1920s.
More important were the social consequences that the fur trade produced in
northeastern Altai. For the purposes of regular trading, native and Russian merchants developed a system of informal comradeship that the Altaians called tanysh.
Russian traders visited indigenous villages and singled out specific natives as their
trade agents responsible for buying furs from their fellow tribesmen. Traders provided these people with a supply of goods on credit. A merchant also regularly
treated these native agents with gifts, food, and liquor refreshments at his expense.
After indigenous middlemen returned to the forest, they resold goods, supplies,
and powder to native hunters also on credit.27 Thus, the Altaians and Russians
supported a system of supply and demand, bringing them to mutual dependence.
During the fur trade era a number of native traders enriched themselves by mediating between fellow tribesmen and Russian merchants. One middleman, A. P.
Kandarakov, cooperated with Russian merchants by establishing a monopoly on
the purchase of furs, honey, wax, and nuts from the Lebed River valley. Another
native merchant, Polikarp Pustogachev, concentrated in his hands the sale of furs
and nuts from the Baygall River valley.28 On the whole, the Russian fur and nuts
trade did not bring radical changes to the indigenous economy of the forest dwellers, but rather promoted and enhanced traditional economic and social systems.,29
At the same time, close reciprocal relations with the Russians established a background for native dialogues with Orthodoxy. Missionaries themselves understood
very well the significance of the trade. One cleric recommended expanding such
commerce in order "to advance the cause of Christianization," adding that commercial relations with the natives would be "the most reliable help to missionaries
because savages who come for goods will be indirectly exposed to the spirit of the
Christian faith." With that in mind, he suggested the building of trade stores near
two Orthodox monasteries in Altai.30 A Russian-German scholar and traveler,
Vladimir Radlov (Wilhelm Radloff), also reported that missionaries to the Altaians
provided facilities to Russian merchants to store their goods.31 Such facts apparently drove some Soviet historians to a simplistic conclusion that missionaries
acted as agents of economic exploitation of natives.
Southwestern Altai
Unlike that of northeastern forest areas, the landscape of southwestern Altai
included mountain and steppe (grassland) terrain. Environmental conditions of
the region defined specific native occupations and eventually relations of local
populations with the Russians. Until the second half of the nineteenth century the
empire had little influence in southwestern Altai and the government showed no
interest in the natural resources of this area except for the annual procurement of
fur tribute. Except the Teleuts, who economically and politically occupied a transitional place between southern and northern natives, nomads lived in isolation
from the empire and did not mingle with the Russian population. Stereotyping
20 1
their semi-sovereign status, a Russian government official wrote about them in

1840, "The Kalmuks are extremely unrestrained, rude, perfidious, wicked, stubborn and even impudent."32 Moreover, as mentioned, historically the government
itself encouraged their isolation. After admission into the Russian empire and on
the basis of the 1811 official regulations, the Altaian nomads formally reserved for
themselves pasturelands that covered a loosely defined territory of about seventyseven thousand square miles. The empire declared this region "Kalmuk habitats"
closed for Russian settlement and trespassing.33
Settlers, however, ignored these borders and entered nomadic areas that, unlike
the northeast, were suitable for farming. Authorities did try to remove Russian
intruders back beyond the borderline of "Kalmuk habitats," but such modest endeavors failed. As early as 1815, without permission, Russian settlers founded
seventeen villages south of the "line" of nomadic territories, and by 1825 the number of these settlements reached twenty-one.34 Despite these encroachments, until
the 1860s Russian presence had no radical consequences for the local landscape
and native customs. Except for fur traders, runaway serfs, and Russian Orthodox
schismatics (Old Believers), southwestern Altai still did not face mass peasant
colonization.35
During the second half of the nineteenth century, however, the government expressed a considerable interest in the agricultural settlement of Altai.36 First, the
empire intended to turn the Altai region into a Far Eastern base to feed Siberian
colonization, and, second, officials wanted to "drain" out of European Russia the
peasant population, which had become landless after the 1861 reform that released
them from the bondage of serfdom. The beginning of the mass intrusion into southern and western Altai started in 1865, when groups of peasants from European
Russia requested permission to settle in Altai. On July 30, 1865, the government
approved this request. The Altai area became the "settlement Eldorado" for peasant settlers because of its most fertile soil and variety of climatic zones, which
reminded settlers of European Russia. Sixty-two percent of all settlers to Siberia
between 1861 and 1899 selected Altai as their point of destination.37 Eventually,
the empire intervened because the population influx reached such proportions that
settlers and natives started to clash over land tenure.38
Local officials, however, still advocated mass colonization. In 1874 the governor of Tomsk, Suprunenko, who was in charge of Altai, approached the Siberian
governor general complaining about the harmful influences of the Statute of Alien
Administration in Siberia, the major document that defined the administrative and
political systems of Siberian natives. In his view, the guidelines, with their emphasis on indirect rule, restricted advance onto native lands and cut off the nomads
from Russian civilization. In his attempt to justify imperial advance onto the indigenous lands Suprunenko appealed to the household image of a "lazy native"
who supposedly was not used to regular work and was not able to use his land
productively. Lamenting that so far the Russian presence was noticeable only in
the northern part of Altai, the governor of Tomsk complained, "The rest of the
country is reserved for the exclusive use of a handful of Kalmuks who spend their
202
time in complete idleness because the stockbreeding does not take any effort and
because they lay all house work on women."39 The conclusion of his report to the
Siberian governor general sounded a direct call to force out the Altaians from their
native lands: "This semi-savage people were not even able to create appropriate
living conditions for themselves. Also, nothing indicates that they will improve
their life in future. Do we want to allow them to waste this rich country?"40 Later
the chief council of western Siberia attached to the Suprunenko report one more
argument: the necessity to protect the Russian southern border. Finally, the document was sent to St. Petersburg.41
In 1879 the czar approved regulations that allowed local Russian authorities to
grant all interested people permission to settle freely in western Altai lands. After
the payment of six rubles per male, each settler's family received a right to take
135 acres of surveyed "uncultivated land."42 The government designed the 1879
instructions as a three-year pilot project, which was later extended. Moreover, the
program provided for the establishment of twenty-six Russian settlements on native lands.43 Still, after the issuance of these regulations colonization remained an
unregulated process. Peasants occupied unsurveyed lands of their choice, never
bothering to pay taxes and ignoring native titles. In the 1870s Radlov, who visited
the area, noted: "The dense circle of Russian villages rounds up Altaians tighter
and tighter. Through rich river valleys the Russians penetrate deeper and deeper in
the heart of the area. As a result, the Altaians keep on retreating farther into mountains and get poorer due to the loss of pasturelands."44
A missionary, Sinkovskii, who observed the nomads at the same time, similarly
stressed that Altaian lands had been surrounded by settlers. In addition, he pointed
to armed clashes between natives and newcomers.45 In 1889, officials again attempted to impose modest regulations by requiring peasants to file settlement
petitions with governors and to secure permission from the police. Once again,
such restrictions failed to stop the influx of settlers, so the government succumbed
to their pressure and excluded Altai from imperial regulations that remained valid
for the rest of Siberia. The population movement reached its peak during the 18911892 famine in European Russia. As Mamet summarized, "The arbitrary occupation
of the Altaians' lands resulted in terrible complication of land tenure rights."46
In 1894, the pressure for land became so strong and colonization so chaotic that
the government temporarily prohibited the settlement of native lands, but this restriction again did not result in any practical action. To diminish the tide of landless
peasants was impossible: by 1894 more than 100,000 settlers who still could not
find free land plots concentrated in Altai.47 This group of people openly seized
land and represented a threat not only to the native populations, but also to those
Russian settlers who had entrenched themselves in the region earlier on. The only
solution to this massive influx was to remove all legal obstacles to free occupation
of indigenous lands. To this end, an interdepartmental council of the Russian government responsible for the colonization policy provided that each peasant family
would receive a 135-acre land allotment "within the area of nomadic Kalmuks' re-
203
sidency and within territories of other natives who did not practice individual land
ownership."48
Finally, the government adopted a new law formally permitting mass settlement
by shrinking the borders of nomadic pastures. This law was approved on May 31,
1899, far before an official land survey expedition completed work in Altai. Such
negligence was no surprise, for the commission later found that the majority of the
southwestern Altaians were nomads not interested in and not used to sedentary
life. Incidentally, the 1890 Russian Census also indicated that the majority of the
southern Altaians lived as nomads.49 Unlike earlier regulations, the 1899 decree,
in order to create a large reserve of surplus lands demanded the Altai nomads
adopt sedentary living. Like Russian settlers, native nomads received an allotment
of 135 acres per head. The remaining 18,690,000 acres "freed" from indigenous
tenure now became the crown's possession and were leased to Russian farmers.
This law threatened to undermine the traditional way of life and economy of native communities.50 The wide mountain and steppe pastures necessary for native
subsistence were reduced to small land plots. Many natives leased their allotments
to the newcomers because Altaians could not make a living off this land by practicing their traditional pastoralism.
The building of the Trans-Siberian Railroad in the 1890s revitalized peasant
settlement in the eastern borderland. In 1891 Iadrintsev stressed that native territories had shrunk ten times since the beginning of intensive Russian colonization.51
From the 1890s to 1912 two million European Russians settled the "empty" lands
of southern Siberia and the Far East. The greater part of these people again chose
Altai, with the major tide of settlers arriving in this area between 1897 and 1917.52
Altai became the only area in Siberia with the densest population concentration of
Russian inhabitants, which resulted in the total exhaustion of "free land" reserves.
The majority of Altai nomads were totally unprepared for sedentary life, and the
government and local officials could not ignore this fact. Fearing that quick breakup
of nomad communal patterns would lead to social tensions, in 1904 officials issued new instructions that slowed the application of the 1899 allotment law to the
nomads.53 Unfortunately, the government was repeatedly inconsistent in its decisions. In August of 1906 a czarist decree, "On Providing for Settlement of Free
Lands in the Altai Mountain Region," nullified these restrictions and finally removed all remaining barriers to peasant colonization. From 1907 on Russian
settlement in Altai became especially intensive.54
In 1910 the government sent a survey commission headed by the chief of the
Altai region, V. P. Mikhailov, to southwestern Altai, to confirm that the majority of
the natives had become sedentary and were ready to accept individual allotments.
The expedition received direct instructions to find proof that the nomadic Altaians
were now interested in land allotment. By falsifying the real conditions of natives,
Mikhailov maintained that nomads were ready to accept individual land plots and
therefore fulfilled his assignment.55 He also argued that the 1822 statute defined
no exact borders of the "Kalmuk habitats," which he interpreted as an open invitation to any governmental initiative. Like Suprunenko earlier, he also pointed out
204
that it would be unreasonable to leave the rich natural resources of the area in the
hands of "backward people." In 1911, on the basis of this report, the government
voided the modest restrictions of 1904 and proceeded with an immediate land
reform in Altai. As a result, native lands were parceled out into individual holdings.
This land policy openly ignored indigenous interests and was devoted to the
sole purpose of seizing indigenous "surplus" lands generated from the allotment
system.56 Administrative changes imposed on the Altaians became a logical continuation of the land dispossession. In 1913-1914 the government abrogated the
entire system of indirect rule with its zaisans and pashtyks and replaced tribute
payments with regular taxes. Formally, natives became subject to the same regulations as the Russian population.57 The* crackdown on the indigenous land and
administrative system during 1899-1914 produced mass panic, particularly among
the nomads. In hope that the government would return to the old system some
leaders hid their seals, medals, and other regalia earlier granted by Russian authorities and now no longer valid. Many native families escaped to the mountains
afraid that they would forcefully be turned into peasants or converted to Christianity. There were even incidents of armed confrontation. For instance, the resistance
of the nomadic Teleuts to the land reform was so persistent that the authorities had
to send three police marshals to their village Zimnik "to maintain order."58
The mass colonization of the southwestern areas of Altai not only reduced dramatically the native land domain and attacked their traditional culture, but also
had considerable psychological consequences by decreasing indigenous spaces.
The traditional cosmos, which earlier had not had any barriers and fences, was
shattered. Furthermore, the general increase of mobility and the speed with which
the patterns familiar to natives were modified altered the whole concept of native
time. The flood of settlers soon changed the population balance and the natives
became a minority. By the beginning of the twentieth century newcomers composed 87 percent of the entire population in both the northeast and the southwest.59
SEDENTARY AND NOMADIC NATIVES' RESPONSES TO THE

RUSSIAN MISSION
In Altai the Russian Orthodox church demonstrated an unusual zeal among the
native population. Two major factors stood behind these activities: first, the government provided generous land donations to the mission; second, the church
became attracted to this area because of its proximity to the Buddhist-Lamaist
area. "The native periphery on the international borderlands should be populated
only by Orthodox people who would be able to assimilate the native segment and
to form a solid state shield against alien nations," stressed one missionary report.
On December 15, 1828, on an initiative of church authorities, the government
issued a formal permission to open the Altai Orthodox Mission. Actual conversion
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work among the Altaians started in the 1830s, when Glukharev (1792-1848) became head of the mission.60
Glukharev established a good rapport with the local population by combining
roles as an amateur healer and a priest. By translating Russian religious literature
into Altai dialects, he anticipated the famous Ilminskii System. Glukharev's successors turned the propagation of the Gospel among the Altaians into a huge
religious enterprise, the largest of the Russian missions. From 1830 to 1913 clerics
established twenty-one stations, two monasteries, two convents, and seventy-four
schools with more than one thousand native students. Missionaries also founded a
Catechism College, which gave room and board to twenty-two students designated to become native clergymen. By 1913 the majority of the native Altaians had
formally become Russian Orthodox.61
Incidentally, the Altai mission relied strongly on indigenous clergy, who worked
on all levels. More than half of the mission priests were natives. Additionally,
indigenous clergymen occupied almost all low-level church positions and also
worked as missionary school teachers. The most promising students of the Catechism College later went to study at the Missionary Institute in Kazan, in European
Russia. In 1874, the Holy Synod granted the Altaian mission permission to establish a printing press. Eventually, church authorities assumed that the mission fulfilled
its role and after 1910 discontinued its activities by dividing the region into native
parishes.62
Indigenous responses to the mission were uneven. In the northeastern areas,
populated by sedentary groups connected with the Russians through intensive trade
links, many native communities found it useful to conduct a dialogue with missionaries, but in the southwestern steppe and mountain areas, populated by nomads,
this relationship hardly existed.63 Not only nomadic life-styles and lack of tight
contacts with the Russians made pastoralists immune to the message of Orthodoxy; historically, before becoming Russian imperial subjects, Altaian nomads
had to suffer severe religious persecutions from the Dzhungarian Federation. The
latter was a typical oriental despotic state, which widely used violence to implant
Lamaism in the Altaian society by punishing and executing native shamans. The
Dzhungarians did not succeed in their attempts to crush native beliefs.
Stories about resistance of shamans to Lamaism occupy a significant place in
the Altaian oral tradition. It appears that this tradition nourished among the nomads a strong negative stance against any religious imposition. Thus, in 1848
Tudunekov, one of the first natives to adopt Christianity in the southwest, was
killed by his fellow tribesmen as a traitor.64 Radlov, who visited Altai in the 1860s1870s, noticed this ideological stance popular in nomadic camps: "As soon as the
Shors [a northern Altaian group] get in touch with the Russians they immediately
advance themselves to a higher stage of culture with extreme easiness, while the
Altaians [southern Altaians] can live for decades together with the Russians, without changing their culture at all/'65
In his 1864 travel report Verbitskii mentioned that in contrast to the sedentary
communities of the Kuznetsk area, the nomadic natives of the Biisk steppe did not
206
welcome missionaries. Furthermore, he indicated that in the 1860s-1870s there

was no single case of voluntary baptism during a missionary's visits to the nomadic camps. In the 1870s Verbitskii, who supervised the northern Altaians, alone
converted more natives than eight other missionaries who worked among nomadic
groups.66 Likewise, Stefan Landyshev, who succeeded Glukharev as head of the
mission, in 1863 reported that it was extremely hard to work with nomadic natives.67 Sinkovskii indicated that the nomads who rejected Orthodoxy and did not
want to be involved in any talks with missionaries usually silenced the clerics by
answering: "The czar does not order us to accept baptism. Therefore, we can live
without Orthodoxy."68 Accordingly, missionaries hardly had any success in the
southwest. As late as 1907 a mission report still recognized that conditions for
missionary work in "nomadic habitats", were difficult and that despite the persistent efforts of missionaries, Christianity still did not reach the major segment of
"paganists" in southwestern Altai.69
Nomadic groups exercised such strict communal control over religious life that
dissenters who for various personal reasons volunteered to accept a baptism did it
secretly. The missionary T. Petrov, who worked among the nomads, stressed that
the "Kalmuks," even if they sought conversion, were embarrassed to admit this
among their fellow tribesmen. Verbitskii, Postnikov, and Sinkovskii reported that
if nomads discovered an intention among some of their kinsmen to accept Christianity, they pursued such people, turned them back, and punished or kept them
under guard.70 Akakii, who worked amid nomads, provided colorful descriptions
of the contempt and harassment the newly baptized experienced at the hands of
their fellow tribesmen in the 1860s. Thus, after one ceremony of baptism, a crowd
of "Kalmuks" surrounded missionaries and the converted natives, cursing the "traitors" and spitting on them.71
Radlov's travel diary pointed to the general attitude of the southwestern Altaians
toward Orthodoxy: "The nomadic Altaian treats any mission as the institution that
damages his social status. He tries to avoid missionaries if he can, clings to his old
manners and customs and regards everyone who switched to Christianity as a traitor."72 Interestingly, for some nomadic natives the artifacts of Russian Christianity
became connected with agricultural colonization of Altai. After her refusal to listen to missionary talks one native woman stressed that she did not want to pray to
a portrait of the Russian peasant, meaning Orthodox icons.73 The best that missionaries could gain in this situation was polite inattention. Trofim Sokolovski left
a characteristic description of one such incident: "For a long time did I talk about
Christ the Savior and related the basics of the Christian faith. The natives, however, did not pay too much attention. Some of them smoked their pipes or looked
at the ground with a dull expression on their faces, others began to doze."74
Moreover, objective administrative obstacles restricted the spread of Christianity. The Statute of Alien Administration in Siberia of 1822 clearly forbade local
officials to practice any religious imposition on native populations. Until the 1880s
Russian officials did not interfere with native internal affairs and supported the
zaisans, traditional unbaptized leaders. Those who accepted baptism lived under
207
the jurisdiction of these unbaptized chieftains. Not surprisingly, in all disputes

with fellow tribesmen, the newly baptized almost always lost. Furthermore, the
peasant settlers in frontier villages did not treat baptized natives as equals and
ridiculed those who insisted on being treated as Russians.75
A story about the powerful Altai shaman Kazak illustrates the southwestern
Altaians' attitudes toward Orthodoxy in the period between the 1860s and the
1890s. In a missionary interpretation, the conversion of this medicine man started
with a search for the sources of the Russians' "prosperity and well-being." Kazak
came to the conclusion that Russian power originated from the Christian faith and
experienced visions that strengthened this discovery. A firelike creature that visited him in the vision ordered Kazak to accept baptism. During a second vision the
shaman was exposed to a priest's face, and then he saw a wide rainbow road from
the earth up into the sky. After these experiences he stunned all his relatives and
friends by convincing them to accept Christianity. Kazak even started to build a
road in his village as a partial fulfillment of his vision. At first, his fellow tribesmen treated him as mentally ill. Then, when Kazak became too persistent, they
intimidated him. This did not help, so kinsmen tied him up with ropes and hid him
from the missionaries. Eventually, this dissident shaman deceived his guards, escaped, found a priest, and accepted baptism.76
This example not only portrays attitudes of the nomad Altaians toward Orthodoxy, but also indicates how native shamans attempted to employ elements of
Russian Christianity as potentially useful power, far before conditions for the missionary-native dialogue came into view. Another traveler to southwestern Altai,
Vereshchagin, describing the nomads' negative attitudes toward the Russian Orthodox Church, wrote, "I personally saw how natives of the Chulishman valley
demonstrated their open hatred of the monastery located on their lands."77 Most
probably, he meant that until 1910 local natives challenged the clergy by conducting shamanistic performances in the vicinity of this monastery.78 In 1910 the chief
of the Altai mission summarized the status of Christianity among the nomads. His
words sounded like a complaint: "The Altaians are like blind and deaf people. We
take care of them for almost seventy years, they enjoy various privileges, but they
still did not appreciate all benefits offered by the Russian Orthodox church and
Russian government."79 Not surprisingly, he interpreted the stock epidemics that
devastated Altai herds that year as God's punishment for their refusal to accept
Christianity.
It is interesting that nomadic headmen who rejected the Orthodox message understood very well that they had to act and work within the imperial system. Facing
the need to read and respond to regulations of local and central authorities, these
chiefs sought to master basics of reading and writing, avoiding at the same time
parochial schools and missionaries, who usually helped sedentary Altaians to solve
problems. So-called heathen schools, established and financed by native pastoralists,
who tried to recruit secular Russian teachers, became a peculiar nomadic response
to this challenge. Some natives, when they were not able to locate a Russian teacher
208
themselves, had to approach and mislead missionaries by claiming that they were
already baptized and needed a school.80
To missionaries, nomadism lay at the roots of the native disregard of Orthodoxy,
so it is hardly surprising that in addition to shamanism, Altai clerics targeted pastoralism as the major enemy of Christianity. 81 Landyshev expanded a project
started by Glukharev of organizing Christian sedentary villages for natives. In
order to settle nomads and implant agricultural patterns, missionaries provided
houses and agricultural tools to those Altaians who volunteered to move into such
villages. Landyshev made the Orthodox settlements project his highest priority
and established thirty Christian villages. He also developed an ambitious program
of transforming natives into agriculturists, teaching them gardening, sewing, and
bread baking.82 Radlov mentioned that in such settlements a cleric attempted to
act as a "father to his community/'83 The project, however, had little success. Living in artificially organized sedentary villages proved too painful and traumatic an
experience for even those natives who voluntarily accepted this type of living.84
The population of these villages was not large, from twenty-six to ninety-seven
persons in each settlement.85 Accounts also indicate that in the 1860s-1890s the
majority of these Christian natives were uprooted individuals and outcasts, who
sought material or moral benefits offered by missionaries. Radlov noted, "It is
only people who either live in horrible poverty or those who by their dishonest
behavior provoked hatred from their neighbors that approach missions. By escaping to missions and accepting baptism, they hope to avoid unpleasant conflicts
with their fellow tribesmen. Under these circumstances, the mission may reach
only a modest success."86 In a similar vein, ladrintsev, another traveler, described
these missionary villages as havens for poor and uprooted people.87
Exposure of Altai nomads to Buddhist-Lamaist tradition may additionally explain the cold reception Orthodoxy received in the southwest. Despite their formal
affiliation with the Russian empire and conflicts with Dzhungaria in the past, the
nomads had maintained active trade and cultural relationships with Mongolian
world. As late as the turn of the twentieth century missionaries indicated that lamas (Lamaist preachers) frequented southern Altai, stayed there from two to three
months, and advertised themselves as skillful healers. Sometimes nomads themselves invited lamas to come and cure them.88 The twenty-three thousand Russian
Orthodox schismatics who arrived in Altai before the major tide of the Russian
settlers also "confused" the Altaians about the "genuine" Orthodox religion.89
In the northeastern areas the situation was far different. In the same 1864 report
where he lamented unresponsive nomads, Verbitskii indicated that in the northeast
natives demonstrated lenient attitudes toward Orthodoxy and did not exercise any
strict community control in matters of faith. Whereas the southwestern nomads
turned a deaf ear when missionaries insisted on speaking to them, the northerners
at least never refused to listen to missionary talks, often out of pure curiosity.90 In
1907, Bishop Innokentii indicated that the close interactions of native and Russian
economies and societies made the success of the mission possible in the northeast.91 Verbitskii considered this area the most promising in terms of conversion.
209
He stressed that in northeastern Altai paganism had shaky status and even shamans
tended to accept baptism.92 To capitalize on this situation as early as 1857 the Altai
mission created a special Kuznetsk branch for the Shors, Kumandins, and indigenous groups of the northeast. Verbitskii (1827-1890) became chief of this branch
and the first missionary to these natives.93
NORTHEASTERN ALTAIANS AND RELIGIOUS POWER OF

THE "WHITE CZAR"
What in the first place drove the northeastern Altaians to attach Orthodox elements to their tradition? Since they maintained their social ways and economy
based on hunting and gathering, there was no urgent drive to reevaluate radically
the old worldview. It would seem that the initial choice to borrow some Orthodox
"artifacts" depended on power considerations. First, the natives were connected
with the Russians by close contacts, through numerous reciprocal obligations and
trading relations. Second, political subordination to Russia added to their decision
to maintain a dialogue with Orthodoxy. Though it did not have legal and administrative tools to impose its will on the natives, the Russian church represented a
symbol of imperial power. To be associated with this power could be helpful both
for both economic and social and for psychological reasons. The Altaians might
have been concerned with supporting good rapport with merchants and colonial
authorities. Missionaries regularly pointed to the role of Orthodoxy among the
northeastern Altaians as a symbol of the voluntary loyalty demonstrated by natives
to the "white czar."
An incident that happened to Verbitskii tells much about this stance. In 1865,
when he visited the Kuznetsk natives, somebody passed a word that Verbitskii was
a Chinese subject. Stunned, the missionary found out that it became difficult for
him to perform conversions. One woman finally agreed to accept baptism, but
provided that Verbitskii swear that he was a subject of the Russian emperor, stressing that she wanted to accept only one god in the sky and one czar on the earth.94
Radlov reported that northern Altaians whom he visited thought he was a Russian
official. Accordingly, they demonstrated their Christian loyalties. In a house where
Radlov stayed, a native host pulled out icons from a box and prayed with his
family for a whole hour, showing off his piety. When Radlov mentioned that he
cared little about praying and Orthodoxy, the native put the icons back in the box.
Later Radlov found out that his host was one of the powerful local shamans.95
Verbitskii appealed to the native feeling of loyalty, especially when he worked
among chiefs and headmen, whose survival as leaders depended on successful
mediation with the empire and the neighboring Russian population. In 1864, trying to convert Tibekei, a headman from Kuznetsk, Verbitskii showed portraits of
imperial family members wearing crosses. Looking at the image of the czar's
brother, Tibekei asked the missionary, "Does the czar himself also wear a cross on
his chest?" The affirmative response of the missionary finally convinced this in-
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digenous leader to accept baptism and a new name, Nikolai.96 The adoption of
Orthodoxy as a political act was quite obvious in all these cases. Such attitudes
among the northern Altaians became especially noticeable by the end of the nineteenth century, when Russian presence expanded. Moreover, the drive toward
Christianity increased after the 1880 reform that undermined positions of traditional hereditary leadership. In 1884 Chotpok-Pash, a Shor leader, directly invited
his band to accept Christianity because the "czar wishes that we also share his
faith."97 To the natives, such demonstrations of loyalty to the "white czar" apparently opened a road to the Russian emperor's spiritual and political power carried
by his Orthodox messengers.
The political motives, in addition to spiritual and psychological ones, that drove
the Altaians to accept Christianity are evident if we examine personal biographies,
which provide more insight into intimate details of a native dialogue with Orthodoxy. The memoirs of Mikhail Chevalkov, who belonged to the Teleut tribe, present
a good illustration. During his thirty-one-year career, Chevalkov served as both a
translator and a missionary, and in 1863 he received a gold medal for his work
from Emperor Alexander II.98 His autobiography, written as a testament for his
heirs, provides a few important details about his childhood and how it prepared
him for acceptance of the missionary message. Chevalkov's mother died of a fever, causing him great distress: "After the death of my beloved mother, I cried
more than laughed. Thus, I lived crying for two years. During this time I myself
milked cows, did laundry and cooked meals."99 This image of the crying and weeping Chevalkov recurs throughout the entire narrative, as do his tense relations with
an abusive father.
At the beginning, Christianity for Chevalkov was a psychological outlet and
literally a survival tool. His father resisted missionary activities and joined a few
other native families in moving out of the area to avoid any contacts with clerics
and baptized fellow tribesmen. However, Chevalkov rebelled against the parental
authority. Helped by Glukharev he started reading, while hiding from his family.
Soon Glukharev asked him to help translate religious literature into Altaian.
Chevalkov's decision to join the Christian community strengthened when his father denied him a share in the household, economically devastating for any Altaian.
Left without any means for survival, he stayed in a deserted barn for four days, and
eventually he turned to Glukharev for support and accepted baptism. The founder
of the Altai mission apparently took advantage of the situation: he built the new
convert a house, gave him money to buy various household items, and provided
him with a horse. In return, the missionary acquired a valuable translator.
Chevalkov's relationships with Glukharev and the mission became very close, so
that even after 1840, when Glukharev left for Russia, Chevalkov continued to
work as a translator in exchange for a very modest salary. After a flood destroyed
Chevalkov's place, missionaries again helped him rebuild the house.100
At first, Chevalkov accompanied missionaries on trips and occasionally propagated Orthodoxy at the clerics' request. Before he was ordained in 1870, Chevalkov
supplemented his income by trading, never abandoning Christianity. He regularly
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read to his fellow tribesmen and neighboring Shors from the Bible and interpreted
its stories for them. Chevalkov enjoyed not only the role of an educated person
among the natives, but the power and influence he also gained in their eyes. A
greater part of his autobiography reflected on his mediating between the Russians
and Altaians as well as between indigenous groups and individual natives. Chevalkov
described in detail how Governor Lerhe asked him to arbitrate a serious dispute
between two natives and pointed out that he had saved one woman from an unfair
punishment. We also learn that another Altaian woman supposedly "bowed to the
ground" asking Chevalkov to help prove that her son was innocent in a theft case.101
At first, the Teleuts appeared not to like Chevalkov, judging him an opportunist,
and blocked his efforts to build a small house-convent for native Orthodox girls on
the communal lands. Eventually, according to Chevalkov's interpretation, fellow
tribesmen not only accepted him, but even agreed to help his project. It is evident
from the text that the Teleuts needed his help as an educated person to deal with
Russian authorities. First, they faced a problem of communicating with a government land surveyor assigned to define borders of native lands between Maima and
Ulala. The surveyor asked the Teleuts to find a native representative qualified to
help in charting indigenous lands. Since Chevalkov was the only such man available in the Tea, natives turned to him.102
According to Chevalkov, later people decided to elect him a headman (starosta),
but he refused the position so he could instead accompany an imperial chief inspector sent from St. Petersburg to demarcate borders between Russia and China
in southern Altai. This assignment gave him additional scores as a native mediator:
Chevalkov helped persuade one Altaian community to move under the "protection" of Russia, thereby extending the imperial border farther into Chinese
territory.103 Chevalkov never missed a chance to stress how the chief inspector,
while talking with local natives, allegedly emphasized that Chevalkov's name "was
known in St. Petersburg."104
In this context, missionary work for Chevalkov became a logical step to find a
niche for himself within the Russian ideological and political system. In summary,
the decision of the northeastern Altaians to merge elements of Orthodoxy with
indigenous beliefs might have originated from their strategy of survival. The natives who were politically and economically integrated in the empire sought to
take advantage of the ideological power of Orthodoxy. They worked to upgrade
themselves within the new system as the only available alternative for maintaining
social integrity. As such, the moral authority of the Russian church provided additional spiritual power for social "healing."
It is not surprising that by the late nineteenth century the Russian church came
to play an active role in the nomination of the native leadership in northeastern
areas, with missionaries promoting their own headman candidates. At first, secular
authorities did not recognize missionary-sponsored leaders and worked with the
traditional chiefs who inherited their powers. It took time before the government
accepted these elected leaders and gave them special pashtyk seals. Later, in the
1870s and 1880s, clerics convinced authorities to replace the hereditary succs-
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sion of pashtyks with their election, which in the words of Sinkovskii would automatically "destroy all existing evils," a reference to the sovereignty of local chiefs
in their internal affairs. Missionaries offered to make the positions of pashtyk elective for three years and to nominate them from baptized candidates.105 After the
elective system was introduced in native villages, some headmen themselves started
to seek conversion.
Initially, missionaries introduced these elections in Christian sedentary villages.
Then Shors in northeast and Teleut in central Altai adopted the same practice.
Finally, in 1880 the government made election of native headmen a mandatory
practice for entire Altai. In northern areas the missionary project did not face serious resistance. Here indigenous leaders voluntarily sought missionaries' help in
their dealings with Russian authorities.10^ Every year pashtyks received numerous
written regulations and memoranda that they could not understand; so to communicate successfully with officials, native leaders approached missionaries who could
read and translate the content of the government's documents. Moreover, the desire to master reading and writing became one of the driving motives for conversion
because the Altaians considered "the ability to compose a written request a sign of
the highest education."107
Verbitskii noted that he worked closely with pashtyks, helping them respond to
police and governmental regulations. In addition, some native headmen used him
as the keeper of seals granted by authorities. Verbitskii also acted as a middleman
between officials and native chiefs. In addition to authorities, pashtyks communicated with Russian settlers and merchants on a daily basis. When convinced that
switching to Christianity was helpful for personal or communal prosperity, native
headmen did so without hesitation.108 Their drive to adopt Russian church doctrines especially increased after the government in 1880 abolished the hereditary
powers of indigenous leaders.
In 1878, led by Omiska, who openly practiced shamanistic performances, the
Shors of the Mrass area persistently objected to the activities of the missionary
Trofim Sokolovski and consolidated opposition of all non-baptized natives in this
area.109 Nevertheless, Omiska and his village voluntarily accepted baptism in 1881.
Headman Biarta, who earlier had sympathized with Christianity but avoided a
formal conversion, decided to accept baptism in 1887.U() Apparently, these headmen hoped to retain prestige and authority in the new elective structure offered by
the Orthodox church.111 According to a 1885 missionary report, in the northeast
"among the paganists we observe a strong drive toward Christianity."112 This point
suggests that native leaders considered adoption of Christianity as one of the ways
to reduce political weakness.
In a similar vein, in the 1880s native merchants started making donations to the
churches and contributing to the construction of church buildings. By accepting
Orthodoxy many hoped to win positions of pashtykslzaisans or receive other status symbols. For instance, missionaries helped a Shor trader, Mikhail Tabokov,
who accepted baptism receive a position of zaisan. Tabokov later used his status to
control economic activities in his area. As a sign of reciprocation, he built a chapel
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for the Pastula native village at his own expense and also donated one hundred
rubles for rebuilding the burned house of the Altaian mission chief.113 Two other
Shor merchants, Nazar Kurtugushev and Belei, sponsored construction of church
buildings in the Osinovski village and on the Bashkaus River. The government
granted Kurtugushev the title of "merchant of the first guild" for his regularly
delivering furs and nuts to Russia. In turn, Belei received a silver medal from the
mission.114
Another Altaian native trader, Nikolai Tokochakov, although still unbaptized,
donated money to the building of a church in the Beshpeltir village. Nikolai
Shidikov, after he accepted Orthodoxy, decided to build a chapel in his native
Kuium village at his own expense. Iona Ryspaev, a Kumandin native, similarly
expressed a desire to finance the building of a chapel with an altar and a bell
tower.115 Russian Christianity enjoyed more power and influence. By the end of
the nineteenth century a greater part of the so-called best people, chiefs or native
traders, in northeastern Altai tended to accept Christianity.
In addition, missionaries identified poor and outcast segments of the Altaian
population as the perfect candidates for baptism. Mission reports stressed that the
transition to Christianity began among the poor, the homeless, and the uprooted.116
Usually natives accepted baptism by bathing in a river and taking a steam bath,
after which they received a small copper cross and clean clothing, symbolizing the
beginning of a new life.117 Missionaries certainly did not restrict themselves to
such modest Christian tokens, but also widely used material help to the poor as a
conversion tool. In her diary Sophia De Valmond, who came to work with Glukharev
in 1840, stressed: "All newly baptized who are in need receive various necessary
benefits such as cabins, horses, cows or, in a word, whatever they need."118 Thus,
missionaries offered substantial help to the newly baptized Shors and Teleuts, northern and central Altaian groups who were more responsive to clerics' sermons. For
example, the Altai mission 1875 gift list to the newly baptized looked very impressive: clothing, money, neck crosses, fur coats, fur hats, boots, flour, barley, wheat
grain, tea, salt, fabric, cows, horses, plows, coffins, and lumber. Total expenses for
all these items reached 825 rubles, which was a lot in nineteenth-century Russia.119 In the beginning of its activities ( 1844-1869) the mission spent 22,000 rubles
for material benefits to the newly baptized.120
Incidentally, the Altai mission was better equipped with clergy and finances
than other Orthodox missions of Siberia and Alaska. Chiefs of the Altai mission
were able to solicit support of the Russian Missionary Society and individual rich
benefactors such as Countess Maria Adlerberg. In 1832 Glukharev became the
first mission organizer who implemented the government's 1826 regulations that
gave natives three-year relief from their dues and tributes after baptism.12 ' Glukharev
also provided foodstuffs to poor natives who were not necessarily affiliated with
Christianity. Moreover, during a famine in Altai during 1839-1840, he traveled to
Moscow for a fund-raising campaign. His successor, Landyshev, distributed overcoats among the newly baptized and made provisions to build houses for the new
converts who volunteered to move into Christian villages. He also added that na-
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tives became so used to these benefits that they even demanded gifts from missionaries in exchange for baptism.122 Not surprisingly, missionary Sinkovskii noted,
"Many natives started to view the mission as the institution that needs the baptized. They think that the mission receives all its funds from the government and
that these funds are limitless,"123
It is interesting how missionaries attempted to rationalize their conversions accompanied by various presents. Thus, the 1875 report of the Altaian mission in
response to critics who blamed missionaries for buying native conversions stressed,
"Why do you say that to use benefits to encourage natives to move to the light of
the truth contradicts moral principles? Sometimes there is simply no direct way to
implant in their minds at least a ray of spiritual light, especially when their own
savage religion puts emphasis on these benefits. Is it immoral to use candy to lure
a child or mentally ill person from a burning house?"124 At the same time, for
bureaucratic reasons, relief from all taxes, the major benefit, proved unsuccessful.
Altaian family names in tribute and conversion rosters frequently did not match.
Verbitskii made a futile attempt to review tax rosters to locate the names of the
baptized natives, but despite his efforts, only one-tenth of all Altaians in his area
received the promised three-year relief.125
The Altai mission did not neglect such an important factor in native evangelization as gender. Unlike many contemporary clerics, Glukharev, the founder of the
Altai mission, understood the role native females played in the transmission of
native culture. To target "the hidden half of the native population, he established
an indigenous women's Christian community, which provided native women with
medical help and at the same time exposed them to Orthodoxy. A nun, De Valmnd,
was invited by Glukharev to supervise this work.126
It is obvious from Glukharev's letters that the combination of medical help to
women and spiritual indoctrination was a successful maneuver. After that, a baptized Teleut girl, Anna Chevalkova (a daughter of the native missionary Chevalkov),
and ten other native girls approached the church and government seeking permission to organize a convent along the Maima River near Ulala, the mission center.
In 1861, after the church granted permission, the Ulala native community set aside
some land for this project. Interestingly, the woman elder who came to supervise
this convent was Anastasia Semenova, a nun and a former student of a famous
Orthodox hermit monk, Seraphim of Sarov. Later, missionaries established a boarding school in the convent. They strongly hoped that such schooling "within the
convent's walls" might help partially erase "harmful influences" of indigenous
families on young females.127
Among all missionary activities the natives paid special attention to clerics'
medical performances, which established a common ground between two cultures.
Mysterious diseases, earlier the domain of shamans, now were successfully treated
by the missionaries, who provided medical help to both the baptized and unbaptized. Altai mission annual reports repeatedly stressed the ideological significance
of medical service that undermined the influence of traditional medicine men and
women. "By healing the sick the mission diverted attention of the newly baptized
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from ruinous shamanizing," stressed its 1888 report. The earlier 1870 report indicated how clerics' healing skills attracted natives to Orthodoxy: "It happens that a
paganist visits a missionary only to take his medication and does not think about
accepting Christianity. But sometimes he comes back home being healed spiritually and carries in his soul a key to the eternal life." Not surprisingly, mission
records mention that for their trips clerics regularly took first-aid kits. For a long
time Altai clergymen were the only physicians in the whole area, and they were
also the ones who introduced smallpox vaccination. m
Through his own mistakes, Glukharev realized that without medical knowledge,
the missionary enterprise in Altai was doomed. During Glukharev's first year the
Altaians completely ignored him and even refused to listen to his sermons. Only
when he began treating natives did they start to view Glukharev as a different type
of shaman and accept his talks. As a matter of fact, Glukharev and other successful
missionaries like Verbitskii built their entire power and prestige among the natives
on their medical skills and knowledge. Even the natives who most persistently
refused baptism changed their mind after priests demonstrated their healing abilities. This fact shows that the Altaians reinterpreted Russian Christianity through
indigenous power metaphors. Frequently natives approached missionaries only
when they exhausted the medicinal potential of shamanistic seances or faced bankruptcy because of numerous sacrifices to Erlic. The anthropologist Anokhin adds
that the Altaians appealed to clerics or accepted baptism only in the most severe
cases of sickness.129
Verbitskii in his 1858 report indicated that an unbaptized Shor woman from
Ust-Kalta, Kiikholu, approached him and asked for medication for her sick son,
who had adopted Christianity earlier. The missionary tried to convert her and pointed
out that the medication would not be enough for full recovery: that her son was
being punished for her own reluctance to convert. Eventually, Kiikholu accepted
the missionary's suggestion.130 In another incident in 1864, Stepan, a Shor, promised Verbitskii to accept baptism if his sick wife recovered. In the same year,
Verbitskii gained additional native favor by removing a devastating dysentery epidemic. In 1902 another missionary was invited to baptize a native woman, Mochaan,
who suffered from pneumonia. To the question of the cleric why she had not accepted conversion earlier, Mochaan responded that she had tried numerous
shamanistic sessions, which had not helped, and she added, "Now if baptized, I
might recover."131
Publications of religious literature in Altaian languages also played a large role
in missionary work. Missionaries translated practically all major works of Orthodox literature and service books into local indigenous dialects. These efforts were
widely advertised as the model experience for other missions.132 As early as the
1830s Glukharev translated basic Christian texts into the Teleut dialect. Later,
Verbitskii and Landyshev, with the help of the native missionaries Chevalkov and
Ioann Shtigashev, created an Altaian written language based on the Cyrillic alphabet. This translation project was based on the system developed by Ilminskii, who
216
actively helped Altaian missionaries in their linguistic pursuits.133 In 1865 the Holy
Synod also permitted the Altai mission to conduct its liturgy in Altaian dialects.134
Missionaries also paid serious attention to the education and indoctrination of
indigenous children. In 1894 the chief of the mission considered the young generation of the Altaians the most promising conversion candidates.135 Subsequently,
these indoctrinated children were designated to act as messengers of Orthodoxy in
their parents' homes. From the beginning, the Altai mission sent the most promising children to its Catechism College to prepare them as teachers and priests. "In
future these helpers to the Russian priests might become good missionaries and
decent clerics who will be able to provide large and multiple benefits to the mission," stressed Landyshev. Later, the 1895 report similarly concluded that the
Altaians had enough spiritual potential to provide native "activists" for their own
spiritual enlightenment.136
On the whole, missionaries regularly stressed that reliance on indigenous clergy
proved vital for mission work.137 The Holy Synod strengthened this practice by
permitting the mission to ordain native preachers. By 1908, of twenty-two Altai
missionaries only two were Russians without knowledge of native languages; the
rest were either full-blooded natives or the newcomers who grew up in the area
and were fluent in local tongues.138 One of the first indigenous Orthodox catechists was Kosma Vasiliev, a native psalm reader who as an orphan was raised by
the mission.139 Another prominent Orthodox native was Ioann M. Shtigashev, a
full-blood Shor, who graduated from the Catechism College and the Kazan Theological Seminary. He also took an active part in writing and publishing the "Shors
ABC book." In his attempts to master doctrines of Christianity, Shtigashev made
pilgrimages to Orthodox holy places and relics in European Russia. He started his
career in 1885 as a teacher in a school at the Kondoma branch (later renamed the
Kuznetsk branch) helping a local missionary. Shtigashev taught Shor children
mathematics and the Bible both in Russian and in the Shor dialect, according to
the Ilminskii methods, which he mastered in Kazan. Later, Shtigashev succeeded
the priest he worked for and was ordained as a missionary.
Some of these native clergymen became successful cultural brokers who attempted to contribute to the well-being of their communities. An indigenous
missionary from the Teleut, Gavriil Ottigashev, also graduated from the Catechism
College and demonstrated such community-oriented concern. From the available
information, it appears that he employed the Russian church system for his people's
benefit. He worked among the Teleuts and Shors from 1883 and defined his major
goal as strengthening indigenous Orthodoxy. Ottigashev understood the latter not
only as a pure religious indoctrination, but also as a tool of social help. Ottigashev
encouraged among natives herbal medicine, beekeeping, and gardening and helped
the Altaians during famines. He even used his own salary to cover living expenses
for impoverished native students at a local missionary school. Later, Ottigashev
founded a church mutual-aid fund to help the poor and uprooted. Like all other
missionaries, he conducted his sermons in Altaian vernacular. Ottigashev allowed
217
his native parishioners to sit during the service, a gesture that represented another
concession to the Altaians.140
There was another native missionary from the same Teleut tribe, Stefan Borisov,
and one from the Spassk branch of the Altai mission, Alexander Oturgashev, who
acted as a missionary, psalm reader, and teacher. Another Altaian, M. Tashkinov,
who formally was a translator, similarly combined a role of psalm reader and missionary. At first, Tashkinov received his education at the Ulala catechist school.
Then he was sent to the Kazan Teachers College. In 1885 he became a translator in
the mission with a special assignment to visit native villages and spread the Gospel.141 The most known in this group of native clergymen was Chevalkov (a Teleut),
baptized and educated in the 1830s by Glukharev.142 Interestingly, the majority of
native clerics came out of the Teleut tribe. The specific geographical location of
this tribal group (central Altai) and its lifeways, which combined sedentary and
nomadic traditions, made the Teleuts skillful cultural brokers. Missionaries also
capitalized on the fact that these natives had originally moved from the nomadic
areas to the north and encouraged them to move back to their homeland in order to
bring the Gospel to the "Kalmuk habitats." Around one thousand Teleuts eventually agreed and helped clerics found a few missionary stations among the nomads,
including Ulala station, which later became the center of the mission. In addition,
it was the Teleuts who dominated the population of Christian villages in the southwestern sector. They also actively adopted from Russian peasants life-styles and
agricultural techniques.143
NORTHEASTERN ALTAIANS REREAD RUSSIAN ORTHODOXY

As early as 1859 Verbitskii rushed to inform his superiors that "through various
methods" and with a "danger" to his life he eradicated open manifestations of
shamanism. At the same time, the missionary recognized that natives still practiced traditional ceremonies in desolated forest places far from the villages
supervised by missionaries.144 In his 1860s diaries Radlov provided more insights
on the status of Orthodoxy in this area, reporting that the Shors were superficial
Christians or "Christians only by name." According to his observations, "they only
knew that they were supposed to make a sign of the cross and to receive refreshments of 'red vodka' (communion wine) during a priest's visit." Even among natives
who moved to Orthodox villages "old superstitions are not forgotten, they are
adsorbed into the ideas of the new religion," continued this traveler.145 Landyshev
also mentioned in passing that missionaries had to watch the newly baptized constantly since these natives did not consider it sinful to appeal to both priests and
shamans.146
At the same time, missionary and travel accounts give a complex picture of
Orthodoxy's status among the northeastern Altaians. In the 1860s, Radlov, who
elsewhere pointed to the persistence of native beliefs, indicated that shamanism
among the Shors was at the stage of decline.147 Ironically, much later, an 1892
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Altai mission report referred to the same tribal group as practicing shamanism
(Figures 5.2 and 5.3) on such a large scale that the natives rarely bothered to pay
attention to visiting priests.148 Yet, two years later another mission's report about
the Shors again pointed out that though shamanism survived, it existed on the
fringe of the native worldview as a simple superstition resembling "Russian
fortunetelling."149 However, in 1908 Semeon Tarmasakov, a missionary to the Mrass
Shors, related that when he left his missionary station to visit another native village, local natives took advantage of his absence. They invited a shaman, who
performed a seance, welcomed by the whole community.150 These opposing comments suggest that what existed in reality was a merging of Altaian beliefs and
Orthodoxy. Dmitri Funk in his ethnohistorical study of the Teleuts stressed that
"Orthodox" natives in case of sickness continued to appeal to shamans, while
"shamanists" regularly visited a church and kissed a cross during the Orthodox
Easter ceremonies. The evidence of the anthropologist Anokhin, who visited this
group of natives in 1914, confirms such an assessment: "All shamanists cling to
the church and visit the temple, partake in molebens [short church services], kiss
the cross and the Bible, and celebrate all church feasts and civil holidays."151
To be precise, earlier missionary observers indirectly underscored the existence
of such syncretism. Thus, missionaries frequently mentioned that natives kept their
"idols" and Orthodox books in the same place.152 Tormazakov portrayed the peculiar character of the Shors' beliefs: "Christianity has a positive impact on mental
and physical development of our natives since they remember God all the time,
although partially they still cling to shamanism. At the same time, it is clear that
they try to observe God's laws as much as they can and willingly donate to the
church."153 A 1889 missionary report similarly stressed, "Among the newly baptized there are some who still shamanize or those who approach shamans in case
of a sickness or some trouble, but this usually does not mean they reject Orthodoxy."154 Other indirect evidence of syncretism we may find in the story by S.
Ilteev, a native catechist who visited a village populated by both baptized and
unbaptized Shors. Ilteev recommended that "shamanists" observe their traditional
ceremonies a few miles away from the village in order not to corrupt their fellow
tribesmen who adopted Christianity. Albachi Pilt, a non-baptized elder, stunned
the catechist with a question of what the shamanists should do when the Christian
natives kept on coming and participating in their rituals.155
Missionary reports indicated that "artifacts" and rituals of Orthodoxy such as
icons, candles, religious ceremonies, and processions found an active response
among natives because they resembled elements of Altaian tradition. On the other
hand, clerics themselves never missed a chance to use similarities between indigenous beliefs and Christianity to the advantage of Orthodoxy. Verbitskii understood
the appeal of religious ceremonialism to natives and emphasized the ritual side of
the Russian church for the success of missionary work: "Solemn conduct of Christian ceremonies has a tremendous effect on the natives."156 Verbitskii put aside
many Orthodox dogmas that remained meaningless abstractions for the Altaians,
employing instead more adjustable elements such as rituals connected with daily
Figure 5.2. Altaian medicine woman, c. 1900.

Postcard courtesy of the personal collection of
Yu. I. Ozheredov.
Figure 5.3. A scene of a Shor shamanistic session, 1907. Courtesy of the personal collection
of Irina E. Maksimova.
220
life and social meetings or public gatherings attractive from an aesthetic and psychological viewpoint.
According to Verbitskii, one native named V. hesitated about baptism. However,
when the native became a witness of a "majestic picture" of baptism performed by
Archbishop Vitalii for ten natives ("baptism was conducted with special solemnness so characteristic of the archbishop ceremonies") V. changed his opinion and
converted to Orthodoxy.157 Another missionary, Sinkovskii, who worked among
the Teleuts in the 1870s, similarly emphasized that he knew "their love of church
ceremonies/' As a result, he attempted to conduct all religious processions in the
most solemn manner, attracting up to three hundred natives.158
Eventually, indigenous groups and missionaries became involved in constant
negotiations to find a common ground for the development of the most appropriate forms of specific church rituals. Natives volunteered to replace indigenous
ceremonies with Orthodox ones if they could attach to them traditional meaning.
On the other hand, clerics also adjusted Christian rituals to some native rites. Instead of the native spring rite Shachil, which was centered on the birch, Shors
accepted the Russian Orthodox Easter. Earlier each village had had its own birch
tree, under which members of a community gathered to decorate the tree and ask
for help in hunting and fishing. In the spring of 1861 Verbitskii suggested the
natives substitute this "indecent" tradition with an Orthodox Easter. It is interesting how he decided to divert the natives from the birch tree ceremony to channel
their practice into the Christian mainstream.
Though the Shors issued no challenge to the priest in this matter, their initial
response was grim and hostile. To discharge the negative reaction, Verbitskii suggested not restricting the festivities to a standard Orthodox Easter gathering in the
church building. Instead, he persuaded them to make the Easter procession throughout the whole area carrying icons and to end the ceremony by blessing river water
to bring health to the people and stock. In Verbitskii's interpretation, natives accepted this option, and for the first time "the birch tree was left without any spring
visitors."159 From Verbitskii's account it is possible to think that the priest manipulated natives to force them to adopt Orthodox doctrines. However, the opposite is
also possible: that native manipulation of the Russian church occurred too.
There is not enough material to make any exact generalizations about native
Altaian voices in these matters. Nevertheless, Verbitskii's adjustment of the Orthodox Easter to the Shachil ceremony suggests that it was not only a missionary
maneuver but also a native reinterpretation of the Christian ritual. Missionary reports provide vivid evidence of native agency in their responses to Orthodoxy. In
1864 Verbitskii visited a Shor camp headed by a baptized native, Todushev. The
latter asked the priest to sprinkle holy water on his beehives to chase away the bees
of his neighbor.160 To help the native, the missionary gladly agreed to perform this
ritual, which was not contrary to Orthodox dogma. At the turn of the twentieth
century, in the same area a native named Nikolai, whose wife supposedly recovered after his prayers to St. Nicholas, decided to approach a missionary and ask
him to use Orthodox power to force out of the Kokoe River a spirit of a bull whose
221
voice disturbed the native at night. The missionary similarly agreed to fulfill this
request.161
In the same manner, specific artifacts of Orthodoxy did not necessarily contradict indigenous tradition and as such could be easily adjusted to native beliefs. For
instance, the Orthodox cross and icons were seen by some Altaians as possessing
a protective power comparable to that of native amulets, which hardly opposed the
role of these objects in Russian Christianity. In 1865, a sick Shor asked Verbitskii
to heal him, complaining that a local shaman had bewitched him and implanted a
disease in his throat. According to the patient, the shaman also promised to "spoil"
Verbitskii when the missionary would put aside his cross while taking a bath.162 In
1879 in Ulala and Biisk a religious procession carried an icon dedicated to St.
Panteleimon, one of the martyrs in the Orthodox church. According to missionary
observations, during the procession natives "did not fall behind the Russians in
expression of their pious feelings."163 In another case, the Altaians in the Bachatsk
branch used Christian icons to bless fields in the summer, a practice that perfectly
fit the Orthodox tradition.164 In addition to the cross and icons, moshchi (earthly
remains or relics) of the Orthodox holymen were adapted as ancestral forces helpful to the Altaians. In the 1890s even the unbaptized Teleuts and Shors considered
very powerful the moshchi and the icon of St. Panteleimon and regularly came to
worship these artifacts of Orthodox faith.165
It was evident that where forms of native beliefs and Orthodoxy did not conflict
too much with each other or even matched both sides were able to find a common
language, although the meanings attached to these Orthodox rituals by the missionaries and the natives were different. However, despite the desire of missionaries
and natives to go far enough in order to establish a compromise, on many occasions neither form nor content matched. In responding to a missionary suggestion
to accept baptism in order to prevent divine punishment, some Shors offered a
horse as a sacrifice to the Russian god.166 Although a missionary could respond to
a request to sprinkle stock or beehives with holy water or permit natives to bless
their fields with icons, he certainly would not accept a sacrifice. A missionary
would also most probably be stunned when confronted, as Verbitskii was, with the
question, logical in the shamanistic tradition, "What do your spirits respond when
the priest prays?"167
Likewise, words evidently failed Verbitskii when a native woman approached
him with a complaint about a local Teleut shaman, who refused to perform a seance for her sick son,168 another example of how natives equated missionaries
with medicine men and women. We also can find an interesting shamanistic rereading of the role of a priest in the following stories. A Shor woman who could
not move her limbs decided to try baptism, an Orthodox medicine, as the final
remedy. After the baptism she partially recovered, and that also prompted her husband to accept Christianity. Ironically, the husband, who came to thank the
missionary, who had read a passage from the Bible in front of the sick woman,
added, "It seems that you, father, at that time did not finish reading some small
piece in your book: my wife almost recovered except the pain in her left leg." The
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missionary who recorded this story mentioned that he had had a hard time explaining to this native that it had not been the ceremony itself but God's will that had
brought recovery to his wife.169 A similar incident of different interpretations of
Christian baptism was described by Borisov, an indigenous cleric. Natosh, a female shaman, an ardent opponent of Christianization, was hit by "some unknown
disease" and could not recover despite frequent shamanistic sessions performed
on her behalf. As her last cure she decided to try Orthodox baptism. The dialogue
that followed between the cleric and the medicine woman clearly indicates two
distinct approaches to baptism:
Natosh: Cure me as soon as possible; I feel that the end my life is coming.
Borisov: It would have been better of you to say, "Baptize me as soon as possible," if you
feel that the end comes.
Natosh: If you cure me, I will accept baptism.
Borisov: I cannot assure you that I will cure you like a shaman, for life and death are in
God's hands. Who will dare to ascribe to oneself His deeds and power?170
The actual medication the missionary prescribed for the sick shaman did help and
Natosh, who became convinced that the "Orthodox medicine" worked, was baptized and received a new name, Natalia.
Local tradition also freely reinterpreted Christ and Orthodox saints and instilled
them into indigenous beliefs. Furthermore, in the Christian doctrines reread by the
Altaians, Jesus Christ did not occupy the top of the religious pyramid. In the 1870s,
Radlov pointed out that the natives considered their "major god" Mukola (derived
from the Russian St. Nicholas, the protector of common people) and also believed
that another "evil god," Aina, devoured the souls of the dead and lived underground.171 Incidentally, St. Nicholas was revered even by the unbaptized people in
the Kuznetsk area, who placed candles in front of an icon dedicated to this saint.172
A native missionary, Chevalkov, visited the Shors and the Teleuts approximately
at the same time. According to his information, in addition to St. Nicholas they
included in their pantheon St. Elijah, a prophet saint. Chevalkov also described a
few scenes that pictured native reinterpretation of Russian Christianity. When he
inquired whether they prayed to God in a Russian way, the Shors and Teleuts of
Kuznetsk responded that they did. However, when asked how they called God,
natives answered, "Father Nicholas as well as Elijah the Prophet; Jesus Christ is
also a god." Chevalkov tried to explain to them that St. Nicholas and Elijah were
only saints, but in vain. The Shors and Teleuts added, "We heard that Jesus Christ
is a genuine god but we do not pray to him too much." In another village, called
Myss, Chevalkov posed the same question. Among native gods, the Shors again
named both Jesus Christ and St. Nicholas.173 Chevalkov received similar responses
in other native villages, which he and his superior, Father Arsenii, visited in the
1870s.
Such evidence clearly indicates how the Altaians dissolved Christian monotheism in the plurality of their spirits' world. The Altaians also implanted biblical
223
stories in their mythology. Natives started to treat such Christian metaphors as the
Great Flood, Noah's Ark, the appearance of peoples and tongues as part of their
own tradition. Thus, Noah was renamed Nam or Iaik-Khan and became a native
mythological character, a helper to Ulgen and an object of the Shors' sacrifices.
According to M. Shvetsova, who visited the northern Altaians in 1897, Nam was
natives' "most popular saint," who after the great flood built a ship that rescued a
few people and some animals that later populated the earth.174
Indeed, the plot and all metaphors of the Shor legends about creation of the
world carry obvious Christian influences. According to an indigenous missionary,
Shtigashev, who recorded a creation story of this group around 1898, God molded
the earth and instructed the first people regularly to bring him various sacrifices.
At the same time he had to divide his power with the "devil Aina," his younger
brother. These divisions of powers between two brothers strongly remind one of
the "traditional" positions of Ulgen and Erlic. Aina brought to life all "nasty creatures" such as worms, snakes, and wolves and also "planted" swamps and
mountains. The Shor legend about the flood was reinterpreted in the following
way: God became upset about people's quarrels with each other and decided to
burn the earth to punish them for misbehaving. After the fire destroyed everything,
God sent the Great Flood to the earth. At the same time, he saved a few families,
who gave rise to a new generation of people.175
In a different version of the Great Flood story recorded by Verbitskii between
the 1860s and the 1880s we may see the same biblical motives. Thus, Ulgen, "the
good god," orders Nam, "the most famous man on the earth," to build a raft (ark).
When the raft was ready, Nam placed there his family and friends as well as a few
animals and birds, which were saved during the flood. Afterward, according to the
legend, grateful Altaians started to bring sacrifices to Nam, who is sometimes called
Iaik-Khan in their mythology. Verbitskii adds that each year natives continued to
sacrifice to Nam a white sheep. Shamans also frequently appealed to Nam during
their sessions, asking him to show them a way to Ulgen. In another northern Altaian
story recorded by Verbitskii about the beginning of the world we also may find
plenty of Christian parallels. In this legend Ulgen acts as the sole creator or clock
master who gave rise to everything. In a tale about the origin of shamanism and
separation of people into different language families, Ulgen turns one of Nam's
sons into a shaman. Also, being dissatisfied with people, who tried to "erect a
mountain" to avoid the flood, Ulgen punishes them by splitting them into seventyseven nations. It appears that the idea about the end of the world also originated in
Christian tradition. Thus, northern Altaians believed that the growing "sinfulness"
(the word used by Verbitskii) of people would eventually so disgust Ulgen that he
might leave them, and people would forget Ulgen. For a while his evil brother,
Erlic, would rule the world. Eventually Ulgen would return by descending from
the sky and burn down the "unclean" upper layer of the earth possessed by evil
spirits. The "clean" layer of land that was located under the "dirty" one would
survive and from this second layer Ulgen would shape the new earth.176
224
By the beginning of the twentieth century, the Kumandins and Shors also merged
their funeral ceremonies with Christian tradition. The Kumandins started making
coffins for both the baptized and unbaptized and buried them in the ground. However, they continued to invite a shaman to perform a seance on the tenth day of the
first funeral ceremony to deliver the soul of the dead, believed to linger for forty
days. If not delivered to the other world, the soul turned into an evil spirit and
harmed people. A second funeral ceremony was conducted on the fortieth day.177
As is known, holding a memorial meeting on this day is an Orthodox tradition.
Incidentally, at this fortieth day when a shaman was invited to clean a native dwelling
he or she addressed a prayer to Nam (Iaik-Khan) to help him to perform this task.178
Missionary accounts provide interesting details about how northeastern Altaian
society interpreted Orthodoxy through dreams, an important channel of the traditional worldview. It is interesting to note the different interpretations natives and
missionaries attached to the same dreams. Verbitskii pointed to one of such stories:
I want to mention one marvelous event that happened in 1843 with Banbarak, a native who
lived on the right bank of the Tom River. A Christian saint visited Banbarak when he stood
in the open field. This saint taught him a holy faith and instructed the native to accept
baptism and gave him a crook. While giving Banbarak the crook the saint touched three
fingers of the native's right hand and blacked him out. When he regained consciousness,
Banbarak could not see the saint anymore, but his hand got bent behind and he could not
stretch it out. In this position a Kuznetsk ispravnik, Katanaev, delivered this man to the
place of His Grace Afanasii.179
Banbarak viewed this incident as a spiritual sign to accept Christianity and started
"zealously to get adjusted to holy mysteries." Verbitskii treated this event as an
expression of God's will and as one more proof of divine presence. It is difficult to
generalize about Banbarak's motives. It was evident, however, that Banbarak
changed his whole life under the influence of the sole dream. Also, the event itself
took place in the 1840s, when Christianity in Altai still had hardly reached the
natives. Could such drastic transformation happen if it did not fit into the Altaian
tradition of dream instruction? At the end of the nineteenth century the number of
such "conversions through dreams" dramatically increased among the northern
Altaians. In 1912 for self-serving purposes missionaries even collected and published some of these stories in a single volume.180
A few of them illustrate how instead of traditional spirits and gods natives started
to experience in their dreams Orthodox people, priests, saints, and artifacts that
prompted them to accept baptism. The missionary Chevalkov recorded a story in
the 1880s by a native named Pozot, who adopted Orthodoxy after in his dream he
met Archbishop Makarii (Figure 5.4):
Two years ago I saw an unusual dream. I was standing on a small hill on a bank of the
Uznezi creek. Suddenly I was surrounded by dark mist and I realized that these are demons,
dark forces. This mist reached the size of the trees. The circle of this mist kept on narrowing
Figure 5.4. Archimandrite of Tomsk and Altai Makarii, c. 1890. Photograph

courtesy of the Tomsk State Historical and Architectural Museum (#TOKM
11734).
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around me. There was no way out of this circle of dark and evil power. Besides, some
Kalmuk grabbed tightly my left ear. Suddenly, to my right I saw Archbishop Makarii, who
pushed the Kalmuk aside, pulled out a cross and told me, "Do not be afraid, my son. Use
this cross to get rid of the evil power and it will disappear." When I raised the cross, this bad
power was gone right away. Through the dream I discovered the power of the cross and
decided to accept holy baptism. I shared my vision with everybody.181
In the 1880s as a result of his dream, one man who earlier had rejected baptism
suddenly came to the missionary Chevalkov and asked for it. This native had seen
a vision in which an icon depicting an Orthodox saint, St. Panteleimon, emanated
a wonderful light and ordered him to accept Christianity. The newly baptized asked
Chevalkov to give him an icon with the same picture, for which he made a special
bag, and he carried it for healing purposes. Soon the icon became very popular
among the northern Altaians as a curing device.182 Another missionary described
an 1881 incident when St. Panteleimon supposedly healed a native woman, Mavra,
who later accepted baptism. According to Mavra, the saint visited her in a dream
and provided instructions how to treat chest ache. In the 1890s the same missionary informed his superiors that "one native, Shanu Chosko, in his dream heard
three times that shamanism was a great sin and that people should confess their
sins/1 The priest reported that in his vision this native had been instructed to warn
his fellow tribesmen that a certain horrible disease would strike those who did not
denounce shamanism. m All these stories indicate that natives used such traditional tools as dreams to absorb elements of Orthodoxy. A missionary, Iliya
Iastrebov, specifically stated that a dream served as the most effective motive for
adoption of Christianity.184
At the turn of the twentieth century even such traditional elements as shamanistic calls were occasionally reinterpreted as signs to accept Orthodoxy, which was
expected to diminish the pressure from spirits. Earlier, in the 1870s and 1880s,
missionary reports routinely referred to the shamanic call as the common excuse
used by shamans to reject baptism. In clerics' interpretation it was native medicine
men's and women's fear of "demons" or the "devil," which might "strangle" them.185
By the turn of the century, however, the situation changed. Now some natives
more often appealed to Orthodoxy in cases when they experienced the continuing
spirits' call. In 1892 the missionary Petr Benediktov mentioned a native named
Tozul who after experiencing nervous sickness started to shamanize. However,
spirits still "pressured" Tozul, who eventually interpreted this as the necessity to
accept conversion.186 Another missionary described the same incident with Tidish,
a female shaman who was still haunted by spirits ("demons" in the missionary
interpretation), despite her acceptance of a shamanistic vocation. When a missionary used a cross to get rid of the "devil" that haunted her, the woman understood
that she had misinterpreted the call in the first place and finally accepted baptism
to stop the "devil's violence."187 In 1902 Badrash, a resident of the Ursul village,
experienced sudden convulsions and "went crazy." He even wanted to harm himself, after which the relatives had to tie him up. Earlier such an incident most

probably would have served as the call to master a shamanic vocation. Later when
he regained consciousness, Badrash related the vision he experienced. The native
was taken to a priest, who took his hand and said, "If you do not want to die
immediately go get baptized." After this incident, Badrash took an oath to accept
baptism.188
Those people who were still practicing shamans did not enjoy so much power as
before. In 1892 the missionary Sergei Ivanovskii inquired of Pavel, a former shaman, whether native medicine men and women really saw the gods and talked
with them. Pavel responded, "No, now when shamans claim that they convey the
gods' will, they in fact tell people their own thoughts. People say that earlier there
were indeed shamans who saw the gods, but now they are gone."189 It is interesting
to examine the way some shamans started to reinterpret their decreasing powers at
the turn of the century. Shaman Choka tried to heal his daughter, who lived with
her newly baptized husband in an Orthodox native village. Despite Choka's persistent attempts to call his spirit helpers, he did not succeed. The shaman claimed
that during a seance spirits had complained that they had become powerless and
had been unable to approach a certain "fire pole." Choka interpreted this pole as a
church building in the village where his daughter lived. Eventually, the shaman
concluded that his spirits could not approach a person who had been baptized and
wore a cross. According to the missionary Chevalkov, who recorded this story,
Choka had realized the "misery of the devil before the power of the cross as well
as the devil's fraud and decided to turn to the true faith."190
In fact, the incident clearly points to how the indigenous shaman reinterpreted
the healing power of Orthodoxy through the glasses of the Altaian tradition. It
seems that the spiritual medicine of Christianity that Choka witnessed during the
seance made him accept baptism. The reports of the Altai mission contain stories
about Shor and Teleut medicine men and women turned Orthodox catechists. Thus,
Semen Chochi, a former shaman, after adoption of Christianity became an extremely zealous Orthodox believer, who continued to heal his fellow tribesmen
using new "Russian medicine." Both baptized and unbaptized sick natives now
frequently sent for him, asking this "Orthodox shaman" to come and heal them by
putting a cross on their bodies.191
Interestingly, Adrian Chevalkov, a brother of the famous Teleut missionary
Mikhail Chevalkov, though an active Orthodox catechist, was more known as a
healer who treated both natives and the Russians by herbal medicine. Adrian lived
for a while in Ulala, the mission center, where he learned medicine from a Russian
physician. Still, he usually spent much time in the mountains, collecting various
herbs and roots, and enjoyed among the natives the status of a "skillful healer."192
In this role he evidently reminded local indigenous groups of a shaman of old.
Although missionaries attempted to use such cases for self-serving purposes, these
stories provide vivid examples of how native shamans rethought their roles when
the power relationships changed. Christianity therefore penetrated Altaian society
through the prism of indigenous tradition. At first, it was a formal affiliation with
228
Russian spiritual and political power. Later, elements of Orthodoxy became part
of indigenous tradition.193
BURKHANISM: A REVITALIZATION MOVEMENT IN

SOUTHWESTERN ALTAI
Unlike their northeastern fellow tribesmen, the southwestern nomads maintained
traditional beliefs until about the 1890s, when travel and missionary accounts start
to portray a different picture. Observers pointed out that in this region Altaian
shamanism had by then experienced a serious crisis. The sudden influx of the
Russians resulted in a radical reshaping of the entire native life. In such a situation
traditional medicine men and women were unable to find instant healing remedies
to maintain the stability of nomadic communities. Many natives viewed this inability to face the challenge as the proof that there were no more "strong shamans"
left and started to treat those who still practiced their seances as deceivers. A missionary who visited the nomads in 1884 stressed, "I just came back from my trip to
a Kalmuk camp. I saw a lot of people and had rich impressions. These natives
somehow changed. All of them now recognize the superiority of Christianity over
shamanism. The power of the cross is very well known to the Kalmuks."194 Although the longtime critique of native beliefs by missionaries did not directly cause
nomads to accept conversion, missionary propaganda coupled with the colonization pressure planted the seeds of doubt among nomads and encouraged them to
reconsider their worldview.195
At the turn of the century the Altaians started to complain more that the prophecies of their shamans had not come true. D. A. Klements, who visited nomadic
Altai in 1904, wrote, "Shamanists realized that their faith fades away. They ascribe
this to the fact that good shamans are gone or almost gone." He also reported that
natives approached him and asked whether shamanistic performances really satisfied God and whether it was appropriate for people to seek shamans* help.196 M.
Sokolov, another observer, who examined the religious situation in southwestern
Altai, similarly concluded that at the turn of the century, nomadic Altaians lamented the weakness of their shamans and by 1904 they hardly trusted them.197
Missionaries also noted that in 1900-1902 many nomads "consciously stopped
appealing to kams [an Altaian word for shamans]." They also noticed that if earlier
Altaians occasionally approached missionaries as a last resort when shamanizing
did not help, now some Altaians started to request "Orthodox medicine" before
shamanistic seances.198
Sudden exposure of the Altaian nomads to Russian contacts in contrast to their
northeastern kin explains why the shrinkage of space and time produced a cultural
shock in the southwest. Ethnohistorical studies on other indigenous peoples show
that under similar circumstances, native groups usually developed cultural responses
tinged with religious revitalization and millenarianism.199 The southwestern Altaians
were no exception. In July 1904200 a native shepherd, Chet Cheplan, and his adopted
229
daughter, Chugul, envisioned a rider on a white horse dressed in white. This rider
announced the return to the earth of the legendary Oirot Khan, the Altai messiah,
who would free the Altaians from the power of the "white czar" and restore the old
life. This prophecy and the ensuing cult became known as Burkhanism.
According to Chelpan, the new Supreme Deity of the natives, Burkhan, sent his
messiah, Oirot Khan, to the earth to help native nomads retain their ways and
lands. The message stirred great activity in the area. Up to four thousand native
people conducted regular pilgrimages to the Tereng valley to hear the new prophet
and learn about his message. Here they prayed and expected to see the messiah.
The people who embraced the new cult stopped working, avoided missionaries,
and also tried to get rid of all Russian commodities and money.201 One of the most
notable aspects of the prophecy were its severe attacks on shamanism. As in the
case of other revitalization movements, in the Altai "the critique of colonialism
began at home with self-critique."202 Moreover, Klements, while mentioning that
Chet and his supporters struggled against both traditional religion and Christianity, nevertheless stressed that "the prophet especially persecuted shamans."203 Later,
in 1910-1911, Chet, recollecting his first alleged meeting with Oirot, stressed:
At this time I was on the Tulaite Creek and from there I left for home. On the crest of a
mountain this rider met me. He instructed me that all devils should be burned and shamans
be denounced. The old faith should be abandoned, and I was to tell the entire Altai about it,
and people were to burn everything. He also ordered that everybody pray to the Sun and the
Moon: Ai-Burkhan, Kun-Burkhan, Ot-Burkhan, and Uch-Kurbustan Burkhan.204
Burkhanists chased away shamans and burned down their drums, ritual outfits,
and skins of sacrificed animals. When the anthropologist Klements, who observed
the Altaians during the heyday of Burkhanism in 1904, asked the native people to
show or sell him some shaman drums and costumes, nomads usually responded
that they had burned all these items.205 In their songs Burkhanists also attacked the
"black" shamanistic faith:
Galdan-Oirot will come.
The black chests [shamanists] will disappear!
The black chests will go down into the earth!
The black chests will run to the sunset.
Golden Oirot, our czar, will come.
The black chests will go to the twilight of the Moon.
We will go to Ak-Chechek and Kok-Chechek Altai!
The black chests will go to live to the twilight of the Moon!m
The new cult forbade its members to communicate with shamanists and encouraged the Burkhanists to establish their own separate camps. The Burkhanists, who
called themselves "white chests," or proponents of the so-called clean white faith,
treated shamanists as outcasts or supporters of the evil "black faith." The very
presence of "black chests" was a desecration of their dwellings. After a shamanist
230
left, the place where he or she had sat was carefully wiped and cleaned and sprinkled
with milk.207
Moreover, the members of the new cult did not restrict this assault on indigenous healers to simple ostracism and expulsion from their communities, but beat
and on some occasions even chained shamans to force them to denounce the old
beliefs. In the Ust-Kan area, Tiin, an active supporter of shamanism, was beaten
and his y art was burned. Even bones of deceased shamans buried on the trees were
collected and also burned.208 In anger Chet himself beat traditional healers with
his fists or a lash. Severe attacks inflicted on traditional healers even prompted one
Altaian shaman to appeal to the governor of neighboring Tomsk city with a complaint about these persecutions.209
The members of the new cult tried to justify their crusade against shamans by
arguing that Burkhanists were messengers of the most ancient Altaian faith, which
had been destroyed by shamanism, which allegedly had come to the Altai from
some mysterious country in the north.210 Preachers of Burkhanism encouraged
people to halt ruinous animal sacrifices, take care of the native stock, and maintain
the nomadic way of life. Instead of shamanistic performances, the Burkhanists
decorated branches of birch trees and homes with blue and yellow ribbons and put
white flags on roofs of their dwellings. Unlike in old shamanistic sessions, during
Burkhanist rituals drinking and smoking were also forbidden.211 The symbolism
of four directions also played an important role: each morning and evening people
sprinkled milk upward and then to all four cardinal directions and burned heather.
The ritual songs of the Burkhanists not only attacked the supporters of shamanism
and denounced the Russians, but consisted of verses praising Altai the motherland. The center of the movement was the western part of Altai, specifically in the
Tereng valley. It is notable that earlier missionaries had referred to this area as the
bastion of shamanism.212 The Tomsk attorney-general wrote in his 1904 telegram
to the Russian minister of justice:
Kalmuks [the Altaians] were instructed to burn their tambourines, sacred ribbons and pelts,
and other symbols of old gods and to meet at the Derem ravine, otherwise they will be
"struck by the thunder." Extremely stirred by that prophecy, Kalmuks destroyed their tambourines and started to gather around Chet. His camp gave shelter to 3,000 people by the
middle of June.213
The speed with which the Altaians transformed shamanic beliefs into the new
religion was striking. The Russian anthropologist S. P. Shvetsov noted how under
the new circumstances old symbols had lost their power in the eyes of natives. In
searching for an alternative, nomads appealed to the ideals offered by Chet Chelpan,
who "in a few weeks excited the whole pagan Altai and prompted his followers to
break radically with 'their fathers' beliefs' and to accept the new religious principles."214 Chelpan preached the political unity of all Altaians who faced pressure
from the Russians. The Burkhanists shared this standard prayer: "Through my
Burkhan dwelling on high, through my Oirot descending below, deliver me from
231
the Russians, preserve me from their bullets."215 The prophet also developed eighteen commandments directed to the renewal of native life. Among them were
restrictions on the use of tobacco, which was associated with Russian trade activities, and on cultural contacts with the newcomers ("Do not eat from the same pot
with a Christian"). Members of the new cult expected an "opening of the land"
that would destroy all Russians and converted natives, while the messiah's followers would survive.216
In nomadic villages everything reminiscent of an alien presence disappeared:
money, clothing, and even household utensils. Despite a radical call to avoid interactions with the newcomers, the core of the doctrine carried an exclusively peaceful
character. Burkhanism stressed passive resistance and nonviolence and called for
its participants to be industrious, honest, virtuous, and peaceful. Moreover, the
expectations of a messiah, the prophecy about the end of the world, and the concept of a supreme God suggest the impact of the Christian tradition. Moreover,
native beliefs visibly evolved in the monotheistic direction. As early as the nineteenth century, the nomadic worldview already included a belief in the Uch
Kurbustan, "creator of all spirits," as well as the sky and stars, the earth and water.217 The new cult that accepted Burkhan (sometimes called White Burkhan) as
the supreme deity associated it with the Sun and the Moon and the creator of
everything that human beings need in their life. Incidentally, the same name was
used to describe religious artifacts such as icons and sacred ribbons.
Such views seemed to be an indirect result of missionary propaganda. This case
shows that natives in rejecting the message of the colonizers, maintained elements
of its powerful medium. As Jean Comaroff and John Comaroff note, "That is why
new hegemonies may silently take root amidst the most acrimonious and antagonistic of ideological battles."218 Interestingly, some influential Burkhanist leaders
had earlier been baptized natives.219 Kondratii Tanashev, a former shaman who
had adopted Orthodoxy and then became a Burkhanist preacher, explained his
switch in the following way. To heal his paralyzed hand he at first adopted Orthodoxy, which did not eliminate the ailment. After this Tanashev addressed his prayers
to Burkhan, the new god, and eventually recovered.220
Although the Burkhanists apparently borrowed some concepts from Orthodox
Christianity as well as from Russian schismatics (Old Believers), a significant number of their specific rituals came from neighboring Lamaist tradition. Indeed, the
Altai natives took much from the Mongolian Lamaist tradition. A few supporters
of Chelpan lived in Mongolia and transplanted their past experiences into the new
doctrine. Oirot Khan, the new Altai messiah, is one of the characters of the Altaian
mythology, who had disappeared with his tribe but promised to return, At the same
time, this character was associated with the legendary Chingis Khan, who in the
Mongolian tradition was considered the ancestor of Oirot Khan. A Mongolian
town and Lamaist center, Bulun-Takhoi, became a popular metaphor among the
Burkhanists, who referred to this place in their prayers. Also, the name of the new
god, Burkhan, who sent the messiah, originated from the Mongolian word for the
Buddha. Previously, the Altaians had used the word Burkhan not to define a single
232
supreme deity, but to refer to numerous spiritual creatures who populated Altaian
mythology.221
Strange as it may sound, despite the severe denunciation of shamanism and its
bloody sacrifices, Burkhanism borrowed many "positive" elements of the this traditional religion. "Good" shamanistic deities, such as Ulgen, Uch-Kurbustan, the
spirit of fire, and a few others, were transplanted to Burkhanism, as were a ritual of
sprinkling with milk and the use of birch trees (Figure 5.5) and ribbons. In order to
replace shamanistic sacrifices, the Burkhanists started to put more stress on burning heather, which symbolized purity and whose smoke was expected to chase
away evil spirits and attract good ones. "Bad" or "black" gods such as Erlic were
not accepted in the new pantheon. Apparently, the Burkhanists introduced such a
distinction intentionally in order to emphasize that the new faith was based on
good and benevolent spirits, unlike shamanism.222 On the whole, Burkhanism
merged shamanistic, Lamaist, and Orthodox beliefs and rituals. The anthropologist Danilin has explained the content of Burkhanism by stressing that this was a
complex ideology: "On the one hand, the cult retained elements of kin socioeconomic structure; on the other, the religion reflected the influence of the Russian
colonization. In addition, Lamaist tradition colored all ritual of Burkhanism."223
Local and central authorities received distorted information about Burkhanism
and misread the movement as subversive activities of foreign agents in border
areas. Interestingly, in other countries in similar situations government officials
interpreted indigenous cultural revitalization in the same manner as a political
conspiracy.224 Russian settlers spread panic, and false rumors and intimidated themselves with the specter of a native uprising. The "Mongolian element" in the new
cult especially excited suspicion and was exaggerated by the public and missionaries, prompting the government to close the Mongolian border. The violent
confrontation of the Russians with natives in Tereng, a major gathering place for
the Burkhanists, was a direct result of the panic and distorted perception of the
native movement. More than twelve hundred police and armed Russian volunteers
raided a camp of three thousand cult members, clubbed the Altaians, and killed
one. Police detained and put Chelpan, his wife, daughter, and thirty-three
Burkhanists on trial. However, the court acquitted the "rebels," because the government found little danger in such a "primitive" and Utopian movement.225
The suppression of the Tereng meeting did not result in decline of the movement. After Chelpan's arrest, Tirii Akemchi, an educated man, took over leadership.
Interestingly, Akemchi had served in Mongolia as a translator for a Russian government agent and been exposed to Lamaism.226 His claims that he personally saw
Oirot-Khan in Mongolia increased Akemchi's popularity. He also made efforts to
integrate the cult into the Russian social, political, and religious system. With other
chief preachers such as Vasilii Karman, Konstantyn Batilak, Jacob Saadan, and
Kondratii Tanashev, he used the czar's 1905 manifesto granting freedom to all
religious denominations to find a niche for Burkhanism within the colonial structure.227
Figure 5.5. A Burkhanist prayer place in central Altai, 1915. Photograph by K. Tiumentsev
courtesy of the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Tomsk State University (# 9-3).
;*..?' %
Figure 5.6. A group of Altaians with a Burkhanist preacher dressed in white in the center.
Postcard courtesy of the personal collection of Yu. I. Ozheredov.
234
In 1907, 512 members of the movement approached authorities seeking to legalize their gatherings. In their formal appeal to officials, the Burkhanists assailed
"negative" aspects of the old native religion and emphasized the "civilized" character of the new one. The petitioners noted that they rejected shamanism, "bloody
sacrifices," and "idolatry," stressing instead that the cult stood close to Christianity
and that the name Burkhan meant God. Also, the document omitted all references
to Oirot Khan and the coming of the messiah. "We believe that this new religion
which we chose is rather good because it does not contradict requirements of the
law," wrote cult members. In conclusion, they asked authorities not to consider
them "idol worshippers" anymore, but a "new denomination." Finally, authorities
institutionalized the new religion as a native church.228
Burkhanists' request represented a conscious and creative attempt to adjust this
native cultural project to the Russian political and ideological system. By 1908 the
number of "reformed" Burkhanists even increased. A crucial place in this renovated and now structured Burkhanism belonged to the iarlikchi, chief preachers or
organizers of collective prayers (Figure 5.6). These spiritual leaders dressed in
"pure" white clothes, acted as healers, and basically were substitutes for the shamans of old. Sometimes former shamans who had rejected their traditional rituals
also became iarlikchi. It is notable that the position of such organizers was elective, a significant innovation when compared to the status of shamans, who based
their power on personal charisma.229
The Altaian nomads, however, did not align themselves completely with the
spiritual power of this reformed cult. After its heyday was gone and Oirot Khan
failed to materialize, Burkhanism stopped attracting overwhelming support. Some
nomads switched back to shamanism, which they had earlier denounced; others
went even further, converting to Christianity. In 1909 and 1914 epidemics of typhus struck southwestern Altai and undermined the prestige of Burkhanism, when,
among others, a large number of iarlikchi died, weakening the power and message
of the cult. Ironically, the epidemics, which started in villages of the newly baptized, devastated the Kosh-Agach area, the stronghold of Burkhanism, and hardly
touched Christianized natives.230 On October 4, 1908, Epko, who was considered
the most influential Burkhanist local leader, died. He was followed by another
iarlikchi, Taitak, who died along with all his sons and twenty more Altaians from
his camp.231 Such incidents undermined the morale of the Burkhanists. Some of
them lamented: "Here is our new God and our new faith. It was unreasonable for
us to accept Burkhanism and destroy the old faith of our fathers. Would not it have
been better to live with the old faith?" Others exclaimed, "God, why do you punish
us? What wrong did we do? Why do you kill us?"232 Many nomadic Altaians
started to blame Chet and iarlikchi for all their misfortunes. Eventually, as Sagalaev
noted, the Altaians interpreted the death of each one of their leaders as a bad omen
and began looking for consolation among the former foes.233
Natives apparently concluded that Burkhanism did not provide a viable alternative to cope with the new colonial reality, realizing that the Russians had come for
good. Convinced that even a reformed cult could not provide "good medicine,"
235
some of them decided to utilize Orthodoxy as the most convenient tool to find a
place for their communities in the new system. Missionaries did not fail to note
this change in their reports.234
This situation became acute in 1913-1914, when the Altaians lost all remnants
of self-government after a political reform stripped traditional headmen of all powers
and imposed a Russian administrative order on nomads. Moreover, officials sent
troops to arrest uncooperative chiefs, took their seals, and forcefully elected new
leaders loyal to them. Although some passively resisted by escaping to the mountains or hiding their seals, the others pragmatically concluded that they would
benefit much more by mastering the dominant ideology. Some Altaians accepted
the new "Russian Orthodox ethnicity" as quickly as they had accepted the failed
cult, for example, Argamai Kuldjin, a famous native headman and one of the leaders of the Burkhanist movement, who, still unbaptized, donated money for the
construction of a church just after the defeat of Burkhanism. In addition, he started
to act as an interpreter for the missionaries who visited nomadic camps. This helped
Argamai gain political power in his community, and later authorities promoted
him to the position of starosta, a governmental administrator in his village.235
Even previously irreconcilable Burkhanists who lived in Kosh-Agach, a village
in southern Altai, started to visit Orthodox services. Another episode illustrates the
changed native loyalties. Four hundred Altaian nomads (the Telengit), intimidated
by the continuing attacks on their self-government, escaped to Mongolia. However, the whole group of runaway natives was not able to settle in the other country
and soon returned home and immediately volunteered to accept Orthodoxy. Although for a bishop of Tomsk, who related this incident in his report to the Holy
Synod, this fact illustrated how "prodigal sons" returned to the light of Christianity, it was evident that the Telengit wanted to demonstrate their loyalty to the Russian
power.236 Missionary accounts of 1915-1916 noted a significant shift in natives'
loyalties with regard to Christianity. As one missionary wrote:
Now these two camps of natives [references to Burkhanists and shamanists] do not resemble the paganists of old. Earlier they avoided Russian people, customs and schools.
Present-day natives, on the contrary, tend to adopt civilized ways. They try to give their
children education and they do not stay away from the Russians anymore. Children of
nature now know how to respect other people's religion.237
However, Danilin, one of the first serious students of Burkhanism, stresses that the
crisis of the movement did not result in automatic embrace of Orthodoxy by the
Burkhanists or a return to shamanism. In search of "good medicine" native nomads started to appeal to as many gods and spirits as possible. Those who still
sought iarlikchs help during the most serious illness simultaneously approached
Burkhan and St. Nicholas, the "Russian God," and even used such an old tool as a
shamanic session. In most cases Orthodoxy coexisted with Burkhanism and shamanism. In nomadic dwellings one could see Russian icons hanging together with
Burkhanist ribbons with birch sticks standing in front of them.238
236
Any observer of Burkhanism can hardly overlook one aspect of the movement:
the cult became widespread only in pastoral areas of Altai among nomads and
barely affected the northeastern region.239 All available Russian works on
Burkhanism draw connections between land dispossession and Altaian religious
revitalization. Mamet and A. V. Anokhin were the first to indicate that economic
issues such as Russian colonial policy and attacks on native land domain gave rise
to Burkhanism.240 Though in the 1950s Potapov clung to the bizarre interpretation
of the movement as instigated by Mongolian agents, he also stressed that "czarist
land policy with its individual land allotment" endangered the pastoral nomadic
economy and spontaneously generated religious revivalism. N. V. Ekeev, who examined in detail Russian land policy in Altai, also pointed to a direct link between
Burkhanism and the loss of land of the nomads.241
Worthy of note is that back in the 187Os-189Os in southwestern Altai there had
been a few attempts to focus on the prophecy about the legendary Oirot-Khan, but
they found no response, evidently because of the lack of a favorable social and
political climate. As late as 1900, a Mongolian lama proclaimed himself Oirot
Khan, but Russian officials expelled him from Altai and again nothing happened.242
Only in 1904, when land pressure and colonial domination reached a critical point,
did Burkhanism receive wide acceptance among the nomadic Altaians. The sermon songs of the iarlikchi pointed to social and economic background of the
Burkhanist ideology. One song read, "My land became withered and encircled by
swamps," another "Tomsk hay mowing machines, why do they cut our best grass?"
and also "The sky god complains that in Altai all forests were destroyed and all
land was torn apart."243
Major ideological icons of Burkhanism provide additional evidence about the
relationship between religious revivalism and land. Cult members frequently did
not separate the images of Altai, Burkhan, and Oirot, but used them as different
symbols of one thing: native land and nature.244 The authorities also felt the connection between the native religious revival and land rights. Thus, at the time when
Burkhanism became widespread, the Interior Ministry sponsored the 1904 regulations that temporarily stopped allotment policy among the nomads.245 Emphasizing
the link between land dispossession and the religious revitalization movement many
scholars interpret Burkhanism as a "reaction to colonialism," and some even see it
as a national-liberation movement. They also stress that native Altaian leadership
attempted, through revitalization, to maintain their status, which had been jeopardized by the Russian intrusion. Such an appraisal sounds convincing and obviously
deserves serious consideration.246
At the same time, this "reaction to colonialism" approach is somewhat too narrow, because it confines the revitalization movement to the one-dimensional context
of social protest. It also depicts native peoples as passive extras in a colonial drama.
It seems that the model offered by Anthony Wallace serves better for an interpretation of indigenous revitalization because it emphasizes an active role of indigenous
populations.247 Wallace shows that despite their anticolonialism, revitalization
movements represented conscious attempts at cultural communication between
237
colonial and native realms. As such, revitalization was an effort to create a cultural
bridge between two or more worldviews, so one cannot reduce it to political protest activities. With this in mind, it is better to approach Burkhanism as an attempt
of the southwestern Altaians to accommodate themselves in the new environment.
Such "sacred revolts" as Burkhanism did not reject colonial power to isolate
native peoples from new realities. Being involved in "an ongoing process of cultural redefinition " like other colonial peoples in similar situations,248 the Altaians
sought to engage innovative prophecies and stories to find and forge new religious
identities to provide a meaningful future. Ethnohistorians who study revitalization
movements in native North America similarly stress native religious vision and
creativity. 249 The large emphasis on internal self-purges of shamanism in
Burkhanism, which was usually neglected by Soviet students of this cult, shows
that native people were not only concerned with producing a challenge to dominant colonial forces.
Interestingly, a number of earlier Russian observers of Burkhanism did point to
this aspect of the movement. As early as 1904 Klements wrote about two major
characteristics of Burkhanism: "The causes of the Kalmuk unrest are quite clear.
First, it is the land allotment reform that threatens their economic integrity. Second, it is a deep dissatisfaction with their old religion."250 Chelpan, the first
messenger of the cult, himself elaborated on this second major element:
Bloody sacrifices offend God! Drums and hysterical shouts during shamanizing upset the
dignity of God; shamanic gods are greedy [a reference to ruinous sacrifices]. You must pray
at certain times in the open places. Stick in the ground birch poles and decorate them with
white ribbons. Instead of bloody sacrifices, burn heather and sprinkle milk and araka [an
Altaian drink]. Why did the Kalmuk people became poor? Why is our people abused by
everybody? The reason is that the Kalmuk people pray to the devil instead to one all-powerful God, who lives high in the sky. A day of reckoning for sins is coming, and all who do
not recognize Burkhan will perish.251
Equally important, four years after radical Burkhanism had subsided and the
cult members had stopped avoiding clerics, the deep animosity between shamanists and Burkhanists still survived.252 It may be suggested that the Burkhanists
were interested not only in opposing Russian land policy and ideology, but also in
shaping a new native ideology. Sagalaev stresses in his recent work on Burkhanism
that the Altaian messianic inspirations cannot be explained by a simple reaction to
ideological pressure from outside. It is obvious that the nomads also wanted to
construct a worldview that might help their communities persist within the new
system.
It seems that Burkhanism represents an example of such a cultural construction
that emphasized the cultural unity of the nomads and capitalized on such symbols
as Altai as a synonym of a native land and Oirot Khan as a symbol of a common
origin. Incidentally, missionaries who exaggerated the radicalism of Burkhanism
nevertheless recognized that its songs expressed animosity not toward Russian
people and government in general, but toward local administrators and colonizers
238
who occupied native lands.253 Neither was Burkhanism an Altaian version of Mongolian Lamaism, although Russian clerics did not miss a chance to expand on the
cult's alleged "foreign connections," an assessment that was later uncritically absorbed by Soviet historiography. Although Burkhanism borrowed a number of
spiritual elements (Burkhan, Kurbustan) from northwestern Mongolia, because of
historical connections between the two areas, the ritual vocabulary of this messianic movement hardly shows any Lamaist influences. On the whole, Orthodoxy,
Lamaism, and especially shamanism became building blocks of a new spiritual
culture that was represented by Burkhanism.254
To summarize, in the second half of the nineteenth century the Altaians found
themselves surrounded by a dominant Russian segment (peasant settlers and traders), who, with the exception of fur traders, were not interested in mastering native
lifeways. Instead, they transplanted from European Russia to Altai their own economic and social patterns. Under these circumstances, the Altaians had to develop
a specific strategy of survival. This task became especially acute at the turn of the
twentieth century, when their contacts with the incoming population increased and
when they started to lose their indigenous self-government. Though they did not
force Christianity on natives, authorities and the church started to interfere in the
selection of the traditional Altaian leaders (zaisans in the south and pashtyks in the
north).
In the northeast, where semisedentary forest hunters and gatherers were long
exposed to contact with the colonizers, natives built numerous networks with the
Russians by living together and through trade relations. Local leaders and laymen
came to the conclusion that it would be economically and ideologically useful to
adopt Christianity by merging it with native beliefs. It is also important to stress
that because of these wide contacts with the Russian population native people
became familiar with Christianity not only through missionaries, but through popular Orthodoxy practiced by peasant colonizers and traders. Apparently, on this
level natives and newcomers had more grounds for a dialogue than shamanism
and official church Orthodoxy. Unfortunately, we do not have much written evidence to illustrate such religious contacts. Yet, the role and the names the Altaians
attached to most important Orthodox saints indirectly suggest that native people
borrowed them from popular Orthodoxy. For example, both St. Nicholas and St.
Panteleimon occupied an important place in the worldview of Russian Siberian
peasants, with St. Nicholas standing close to or on an equal level with Jesus Christ.
The same kind of attitudes to both saints we find among such northern Altaian
groups as the Shors and Kumandins. Furthermore, like Russian peasants, the
Altaians called St. Nicholas Nikola or Mukola.255 On the whole, indigenous people
in this area started to use Christianity for the benefit of their communities, and also
creatively blended their traditional beliefs with Orthodoxy by attaching to their
ceremonial practices elements from both traditions.
In the southwest, the nomadic stockbreeders barely had any contact with Russians until the end of the 1860s. Hence, they were less exposed to Christianity and
were able to exercise very strict communal control over religious dissenters who
239
expressed an interest in the Russian "medicine." They saw no purpose in borrowing the Orthodox religion and continued to enjoy the life of semi-independent
nomads. The ideological identity of the Altaian pastoralists strengthened as a result of a complex religious situation in southwestern Altai that reduced Russian
Christianity's opportunities for maneuvering. In this area Orthodoxy had to compete with Lamaism, whose preachers frequented the regions of the native nomads
to perform healing ceremonies. In addition, a strong segment of Old Believers
among Russian colonizers discredited the work of missionaries. Old Believers
openly argued with Orthodox priests in the presence of natives and mocked Orthodox services.256
From the 1860 to the 1890s mass Russian colonization brought about land dispossession, and disruption of communities and turned the nomadic world
upside-down. Nomads responded with Burkhanism, a doctrine of religious revitalization. The latter was an "instant" cultural construction developed by the pastoral
Altaians to define their place in the new setting. The cult centered around expectations of a messiah who would return the old life and prosperity. Despite its appeal
to the old values and critique of Russian culture and religion, Burkhanism severely
attacked shamanism for its inability to respond to the social disruption and absorbed some elements of the "white czar's faith." The most important adoption
was the idea of a second coming of Christ, personified in the image of Oirot Khan.
The movement failed to offer native people a reliable doctrine for survival in the
world dominated by the Russians. Not only attacks of the police undermined the
revitalization; epidemic diseases that wiped out many chief preachers of Burkhanism
and the messianic nature of the cult disabled its powerful message. Nevertheless,
in the wake of Burkhanism, religious life in pastoral and mountain Altai remained
complex. Some nomads did start more actively to integrate Christianity into native
beliefs, the stance that had been earlier dismissed as an unacceptable alternative.
They now saw Orthodoxy as a useful power that represented the ideology of the
Russian majority that reshaped the native Altaian landscape. Yet, many others
switched back to old shamanism. Representatives of Burkhanism, whose leaders
were acquitted in court, institutionalized their cult as the native church and were
able to secure significant numbers of practitioners. More important, a large number of the nomads started to receive spiritual feedback simultaneously from all
three sources. The example of southwestern Altai clearly shows that the lack of
stable imperial ideological hegemony improved the chances of native population
to experiment with different beliefs and integrate some of them into their own
spiritual culture.
NOTES
1. N. A. Alekseev, "Shamanism among the Turkic Peoples of Siberia," in Shamanism:
Soviet Studies ofTraditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia, ed. Marjorie Mandelstam
Balzer (Armonk, NY, and London: M. E. Sharpe, 1990), 85,92; E. V. Revunenkova, "Zametki
240
o Sovremmenoi Terminologii Sviazannoi s Shamanizmom u Telengitov," in Shamanizm i

Rannie Religioznie Predstavlenia, ed. Dmitri A. Funk (Moscow: Institut Etnologii i
Antropologii, 1996), 96-97.
2. L. P. Potapov, Altaiskii Shamanizm (Leningrad: Nauka, Leningradskoe Otd-nie, 1991),
91.
Poreformennii Period," in Voprosi Sotsialno-Ekonomicheskogo Razvitia Sibiri v Period
Kapitalizma, ed. A. P. Borodavkin (Barnaul: Barnaulskii Gosudarstvennii Universitet, 1984),
213-214.
4. Andrei M. Sagalaev, "Khristianizatsia Altaitsev v Kontse XIX-Nachale XX Veka
(Metodi i Resultati)," in Etnografiia Narodov Sibiri, ed. I. N. Gemuev and I. S. Khudiakov
(Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1984).
5. L. P. Potapov, Ocherkipo Istorii Altaitsev (Moskva: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR,
1953), 242-243, 373.
6. N. S. Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai: Politicheskie, Sotsialno-Ekonomicheskie i
Kulturnie Otnosheniia (XVII-XIX VV) (Gorno-Altaisk: Izd-vo Gorno-Altaiskogo
Universiteta, 1996), 265.
7. D. B. Katsuba, "Blagotvoritelnaia Rol Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," in Etnografiia
Altaia, ed. T. K. Shcheglova (Barnaul: Barnaulskii Gosudarstvennii Pedagogicheskii
Universitet, 1996), 72-76; Kh. V. Poplavskaia, "K Voprosu o Pravoslavnom Missionerstve
na Altae (30-60-e Gody XIX V.)," Etnograficheskoe Obozrenie, no. 5 (1995): 100.
8. D. B. Katsuba, Dukhovnaia Kultura Teleutov (Kemerovo: Kemerovskii Gosudarstvennii
Universitet, 1993), 98.
9. A. P. Borodavkin and N. Y. Khrapova, "K Voprosu o Kultumo-Prosvetitelskoi
Deiatelnosti Arkhimandrita Makariia (M. la. Glukhareva)Ideologa i Osnovatelia Altaiskoi
Dukhovnoi Missii," in Altaiskii Sbornik, ed. V. A. Skubnevskii, A. V. Dobrikova, A. D.
Sergeev (Barnaul: Altaiskoe Otdelenie Vserossiiskogo Fonda Kultury, 1992), 20.
10. Vladimir V. Eroshov and Valerii Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov: Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia
Missiia v Kuznetskom Krae (Kemerovo: Kuzbassvuzizdat, 1995); V. V. Eroshov, "Iz Istorii
Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," in Shorskii Sbornik, no. 1 (1994): 227-239.
H.A. M. Sagalaev, "OZakonomernostiakhVospriatiiaMirovikh ReligiiTiurkami SaianoAltaia," in Genezis i Evolutsiia Etnicheskikh Kultur Sibiri, ed. I. N. Gemuev and A. M.
Sagalaev (Novosibirsk: Nauka Sibirskoe Otdelenie, 1986), 155-179; David N. Collins,
"Colonialism and Siberian Development: A Case Study of the Orthodox Mission to the Altai,
1830-1913," in The Development of Siberia: Peoples and Resources, ed. A. Wood and R.A.
French (London: St. Martin's Press, 1989), 50-71. Among the few other insightful works
that show a balanced approach to the history of the Altaian mission and native responses,
see V. N. Kislitsyn, "Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia i Eiyo Roi v Kolonizatsii Gornogo
Altaia," in Altaiskii Sbornik, ed. V. A. Skubnevskii, A. V. Dobrikova, A. D. Sergeev (Barnaul:
Altaiskoe Otdelenie Vserosiiskogo Fonda Kulturi, 1992), 21-28; E. P. Batianova,
"Obshchina u Teleutov v XIX-Nachale XX VV," in Teleuty, ed. M.N. Guboglo and A.I.
Kuznetsov (Moscow: Institut Etnologii i Antropologii, 1992), 191-201. It is notable that
Batianova stresses that the Altaians used Christianity as a strategy for strengthening their
ethnicity and communal integrity. Ibid., 201.
12. Poplavskaia, "K Voprosu o Pravoslavnom Missionerstve na Altae," 102-103.

13. Feofan Satlaev, Kumandintsy: Istoriko Etnograficheskii Ocherk (XIX-Pervaia
241
Chetvert
XX veka) (Gorno-Altaisk: Gorno-Altaiskoe Otd-nie Altaiskogo Knizhnogo Izd-va, 1974),

5.
14. Nikolai M. Iadrintsev, Sibirskie Inorodtsy, Ikh Byt i Sovremennoe Polozhenie:
Etnograficheskiia i Statisticheskiia Izsliedovaniia s Prilozheniem Statisticheskikh Tab lits (St.
Petersburg, Izd. I. M. Sibiriakova, 1891), 93.
15. E. P. Batianova, "Altaitsy," in Sibir: Etnosi i Kultury (Narody Sibiri v XIX V) ed. Z.
P. Sokolova (Moskva and Ulan-Ude: Institut Etnologii i Antropologii RAN and VostochnoSibirskaia Gosudarstvennaia Akademia Kultury i Iskusstv, 1995), 61, 65.
Poreformennii Period," 20; Andrei M. Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa (Novosibirsk: Nauka
Sibirskoe Otd-nie, 1992), 7; Vasilii V. Radlov, Iz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika (Moskva: Nauka,
1989), 191; Potapov, Ocherkipo lstorii Altaitsev, 185.
17. The Altaian native administration worked in the following way: A Tomsk governor
exercised the authority to approve or dismiss pashtyks and zaisans. Both pashtyks and zaisans
had special assistants, called demicha. The latter supervised law and order in native camps
and appealed to zaisans/pashtyks only if there was a conflict of interests. By the 1880s-1890s
zaisans/pashtyks were formally elected for three years, and demicha served for a year. Socalled shulengi represented the third level of "native administrators." They acted as direct
collectors of tribute and taxes. An ispravnik (chief of district police) and zaisanslpashtyks
together resolved most difficult cases. Inorodcheskii Vopros na Altae (Tomsk: TipoLitografiia Mikhailova i Makushina, 1885), 4; M. Shvetsova, "Altaiskie Kalmiky," Zapiski
Zapadno-Sibirskago Otdela Imperatorskago Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva, no.
23 (1898): 22. See more about pashtyks as well as the political and and administrative system of northern and central Altaians (the Teleuts) in Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov,"
141-232. For Altaian native administration in general and zaisans' status in the southwest,
see Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 165-166.
18. Moskovskie Tserkovnie Viedomosti, no. 52 (1886): 791.
19. Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 165-166.
20. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu (Tomsk: Tipo-Litografiia
Mikhailova i Makushina, 1886), 45; Inorodcheskii Vopros na Altae, 13; Batianova,
"Obshchina u Teleutov," 153.
21. L. P. Potapov, Ocherkipo lstorii Shorii (Moskva: Izd-vo Akademii Nauk SSSR,
1936), 203; Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 163.
22. Vasilii Verbitskii, "Vipiska iz Zhurnala Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi
Dukhovnoi Missii, Sviashchennika Vasiliia Verbitskago," Khristianskoe Chtenie, no. 1
(1862): 555.
Missii za 1862 God," Pravoslavnoe Obozrenie 10, no. 2 (1863): 157.
24. Iadrintsev, Sibirskie Inorodtsy, 100.
25. L. P. Potapov,"Shors " in The Peoples of Siberia, ed. M. G. Levin and L. P. Potapov
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), 446-447.
26. Idem, Ocherkipo lstorii Altaitsev, 230, 233.
27. Vasilii Verbitskii, Atlaitsy (Tomsk: Tip. Gubernskago Pravleniia, 1870), 24-25.
28. Potapov, Ocherkipo lstorii Altaitsev, 319.
242
29. A well-known student of the Altaians' ethnohistory, Potapov, pointed out that rather
than destroying native traditional economies, the Russian trade sustained indigenous ways
for a long time. Ibid., 240-242.
30. Khrapova, "Zakhvati Zemel Gornogo Altaia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missiei v
Poreformennii Period," 213-214.
31. Radlov, lz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika, 185.
32. A. Gorokhov, "Kratkoe Etnograficheskoe Opisanie Biiskikh ili Altaiskikh Kalmikov,"
Zhurnal Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Del 11, no. 38 (1840): 216.
33. V. A. Lipinskaia, Starozhili i Pereselentsi: Russkie na Altae XVIII-Nachalo XX Veka
(Moskva: Nauka, 1996), 21; Lev P. Mamet, Oirotiia: OcherkNatsionalno-Osvoboditelnogo
Dvizheniia i Grazhdanskoi Voiny na Gomom Altae (Gorno-Altaisk: Ak Chechek, 1994), 54,
31.
34. Satlaev, Kumandintsy: Istoriko Etnograficheskii Ocherk, 14-15.
35. Mamet, Oirotiia, 23-24.
36. The most recent analysis of the Russian colonization of southwestern Altai may be
found in Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 168-184.
37. Batianova, "Altaitsy," 62.
38. G. P. Zhidkov, "Pereselencheskaia Politika Kabineta v 1865-1905 G.G.;' in Voprosi
Istorii Sibiri Dosovetskogo Perioda, ed. A. P. Okladnikov (Novosibirsk: Nauka, 1973),
365-366; Petr M. Golovachev, Sibir: Priroda, Liudi, Zhizn (Moskva: I. D. Sytin, 1905), 63.
39. "Delo o Merakh i Predlozheniakh, Kasaushchikhsiia Obruseniia Inorodtsev Zapadnoi
Sibiri PriUchastii Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii,"/?GM,f. 796, op. 156, 1875,ed.khr. 1040, .
1.3.
40. Ibid., 1. 5-5ob.
41. Potapov, Ocherkipo Istorii Altaitsev, 234; Mamet, Oirotiia, 32.
42. Zhidkov, "Pereselencheskaia Politika Kabineta," 365-366.
43. Mamet, Oirotiia, 32.
44. Radlov, lz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika, 184.
45. Filaret Sinkovskii, Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera (Moskva: Tip. M. N. Lavrova,
1883), 62-63, 81.
46. Zhidkov, "Pereselencheskaia Politika Kabineta," 370; Mamet, Oirotiia, 31-32.
47. Zhidkov, "Pereselencheskaia Politika Kabineta," 372.
48. N. B. Ekeev, "Agrarnaia PolitikaTsarizma i Zemleustroistva v Gornom Altae Nachala
XX Veka," in Materialy po Istorii i Etnografii Gornogo Altaia, ed. F. A. Satlaev (GornoAltaisk: Gorno-Altaiskaia Tipografiia, 1993), 112.
49. Statisticheskiia Dannyia, Pokazyvaiushchiia Plemennoi Sostav Nasleniia Sibiri, Iazyk
i Rody Inorodtsev: Na Osnovanii Spetsialnoi Razrabotki Materiala Perepisi 1897 G., comp.
S. Patkanov (St. Petersburg: Tip. "Sh. Bussel," 1911), vol. 1, 63.
50. Ibid., 113, 111; Potapov, Ocherkipo Istorii Altaitsev, 237.
52. Leonid M. Goryushkin, "Migration, Settlement and the Rural Economy of Siberia,
1861-1914," in The History of Siberia: From Russian Conquest to Revolution, ed. Alan
Wood (London and New York: Routledge, 1991), 141; Feofan A. Satlaev, "EtnoDemograficheskaia Kharakteristika Naselenia Gornogo Altaia (XIX-Pervaia Chetvert XX
Vekov), in Materialipo Istorii i Etnografii Gornogo Altaia, ed. F. A. Satlaev (Gorno-Altaisk:
Gorno-Altaiskaia Tipografiia, 1993), 133.
24
53. Potapov, Ocherkipo Istorii Altaitsev\ 238.

54. Ekeev, "Agrarnaia Politika Tsarizma i Zemleustroistva v Gornom Altae Nachala XX
Veka," 113-114.
55. V. P. Mikhailov, Otchet Nachalnika Altaiskago Okruga V P. Mikhailova po
Oznakomleniu s Gornim Altaem v Lew 1910 Goda (Barnaul: Tipo-litografia Glavnago
Upravleniia Altaiskago Okruga, 1910).
56. Ekeev, "Agrarnaia Politika Tsarizma i Zemleustroistva v Gornom Altae Nachala XX
Veka," 116.
57. Ibid., 115-116, 119; Potapov, Ocherkipo Istorii Altaitsev, 364.
58. Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov" 192.
59. P. M. Golovachev, Sibir (Moskva: Knigoizdatelskoe Tovarischestvo "Delo," 1912),
34.
60. Potapov, Ocherkipo Istorii Altaitsev, 248; Mamet, Oirotiia, 26; Eroshov and Kimeev,
Tropoiu Missionerov, 7. For more about Glukharev's biography, see Konstantyn V.
Kharlampovich, Arkhimandrit Makarii Glukharev (St. Petersburg: Tipografiia M.
Merkusheva, 1905); M. P-v (Putintsev), "Iz Altaiskihk Vospominanii," Dushepoleznoe
Chtenie 25, no. 3 (1884): 281-289.
61. Sagalaev, "Khristianizatsia Altaitsev v Kontse XIX-Nachale XX Veka," 124; Collins,
"Colonialism and Siberian Development," 56, 65; Iadrintsev, Sibirskie Inorodtsy, 228;
Sagalaev, "Khristianizatsia Altaitsev," 121; Sbornik Sviedenii o Pravoslavnikh Missiakh i
Deiatelnosti Pravoslavnago Missionerskago Obshchestva (Moskva: Tip. V. Got'e, 1872),
vol. 2, 279.
62. Valerii V. Kimeev, Shortsy, Kto Oni? Etnograficheskie Ocherki (Kemerovo:
Kemerovskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1989), 110; T. A. Dogurevich, SvietAzii: Rasprostranenie
Khristianstva v Sibiri v Sviazi s Opisaniem Byta, Nravov, Obychaev i Religioznykh Vierovanii
Inorodtsev Etogo Kraia (St. Petersburg: Tip. P. P. Soikina, 1897), 92; Archimandrite Vladimir,
"Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1871-1875 G.," Missionen no. 2 (1876): 12;
Eroshev and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 18, 104.
63. Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov," 197; Kislitsyn, "Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia i
Ee Roi v Kolonizatsii Gornogo Altaia," 26-27.
64. Lipinskaia, Starozhili i Pereselentsi, 27.
65. Radlov, Iz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika, 209.
66. "Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1875 God," Missioner, no. 11 (1877): 85.
67. Stefan Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet: sAvgusta
1856poAvgust 1862 Goda (Moskva: Tipografiia V. Gote, 1863), 21.
68. Sinkovskii, Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera, 94.
69. Bishop of Tomsk Innokentii, Altaiskaia Missiia v 1907 (St. Petersburg: Tip. "Kolokol,"
1907), 12-14.
70. T. Petrov, "Iz Zapisok Altaiskago Missionera (Chemalskago Otdeleniia) za 1901
God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 17 (1902): 16; Vasilii Verbitskii, "Zapiski Missionera
Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1864 God, " Pravoslavnoe Obozrenie
16, no. 2 (1865): 258; Vasilii Postnikov, "Iz Istorii Altaiskoi Missii: Miutinskii Stan,"
Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1, no. 2 (1898): 72; Sinkovskii, Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera,
101. Missionaries recorded the cases of persecutions of the newly baptized by their fellow
tribesmen. For the full list of such harassments from the 1850s to the 1880s, see Inorodcheskii
Vopros na Altae, Appendix, 1-11.
244
71. Akakii, "Vipiska iz Dnevnika Missionera Ieromonakha Akakiia," Zapiski

Missionerskago Obshchestva, no. 4 (1868): 114.
73. Innokentii, Altaiskaia Missiia v 1907, 19.
74. Trofim Sokolovskii, "Zapiski Missionera Altaiskoi Missii," Missioner, no. 5 (1876):
39.
75. Archimandrite Vladimir, "Vipiski iz Dnevnika Altaiskago Missionera," Zapiski
Missionerskago Obshchestva, no. 4 (1868): 29; Inorodcheskii Vopros naAltae, 5; Radlov,
Iz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika, 184.
76. M. P-v, "Iz Altaiskihk Vospominanii," 262-268; the missionary Sinkovskii described
similar cases of persecution of natives who wanted to adopt Christianity in southern Altai.
Sinkovskii, Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera, 46.
78. Sagalaev, "Khristianizatsia Altaitsev v Kontse XIX-Nachale XX Veka (Metodi i
Resultati)," 123.
79. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898 (Tomsk: Tip. Eparkhialnago Bratstva, 1898),
32.
80. Konstantyn Sokolov, "Zapiski Missionera Ursulskago Otdeleniia Altaiskoi Missii za
1900," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 22 (1900): 258; Stefan Borisov, "Iz Zapisok
Altaiskago Missionera," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 15 (1902): 285.
81. For more about Landyshev and his activities see: M. P-v, "Iz Altaiskihk Vospominanii,"
289-294.
82. Ibid., 290; Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 4.
84. Iadrintsev, Sibirskie Inorodtsy, 95-96; Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa, 141.
85. Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 4.
88. "IzZhizni Altaiskoi Missii," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 11 (1900): 101-102.
89. Sagalaev, "Khristianizatsia Altaitsev," 122, 124; Mamet, Oirotiia, 56-57; Tomskiia
Eparkhialnyia Viedomosti, no. 6 (1903): 18-19.
za 1864 God, "258.
91. Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1907 God (Tomsk: Tip. Mikhailova i
Makushina, 1908), 50. The following example says a great deal about the close contacts of
the northeastern Altaians with the Russian population: in 1903 the Kondoma branch of the
Altai mission served the needs of 3,000 people. This number included native Shors, mixed
Russian-native population, and 275 Russian peasants. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu
Missionerov, 18.
Missii za 1866 God," Pravoslavnoe Obozrienie 22, no. 2 (1867): 177.
93. Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 9. Verbitskii, the
son of a deacon, graduated from the Nizhnii Novgorod Theological Seminary and worked
for a while as a teacher. Kimeev, Shortsy, 110.
za 1864 God, "261-262.
24

za 1864 God," 266.
97. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 22.
98. Mikhail Chevalkov, Pamiatnoe Zavieshchanie: Avtobiografiia Missionera Altaiskoi
Dukhovnoi Missii Sviashchennika M. V. Chevalkova (Moskva: Tip. A. I. Snegirevoi, 1894),
81. See also about his life in Ivan Novikov, "Altaiskii Missioner Protoierei Mikhail Vasilievich
Chevalkov," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1, no. 1 (1902): 25-33; 2, no. 1 (1902): 76-82.
99. Chevalkov, Pamiatnoe Zavieshchanie, 5.
100. Ibid., 8, 24-25, 28, 20-21, 24.
101. Ibid., 28, 65-66, 69.
102. Ibid., 57.
103. Ibid., 64-66.
104. Ibid., 60-61.
105. Moskovskie Tserkovnie Viedomosti, no. 52 (1886): 791; Sinkovskii, "Iz Altaiskoi
Missii," 115-116; Tomskiia Eparkhialnyia Viedomosti, no. 4 (1891): 3-4.
106. Moskovskie Tserkovnie Viedomosti, no. 52 (1886): 792.
107. Il'ia I. Iastrebov, Protsess Usvoenia Khristianstva Altaiskimi Inorodtsami (Kazan:
Tip. Universiteta, 1899), 4.
za 1864 God, " 271 ; Potapov, Ocherkipo lstoriiAltaitsev, 317; Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu
Missionerov, 12-13. Potapov, Altaiskii Shamanizm, 225.
109. Eroshov, "Iz Istorii Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," 230-231.
110. Konstantyn Sokolov, "Iz Zapisok Missionera Ursulskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Missii
za 1887 God," in Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu (Tomsk: Tipo-Litografiia
Mikhailova i Makushina, 1889), 22.

111. See similar accounts about a rational choice: Sergei Ivanovskii, "Zapiski Missionera
BachatskagoOtdeleniiaza 1894 God," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik, no. 11-12(1895): 170;
no. 15-16 (1896): 323. An 1898 Altai mission report stressed that Altaian chiefs became
more active in accepting baptism. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898, 16.
112. lnorodcheskii Vopros na Altae, 11.
113. Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu, 26, 53; Mamet, Oirotiia, 5254.
114. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1914 God, 27.
115. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898, 25; "Iz Zhizni Altaiskoi Missii,"
116. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii v 1898, 32.
118. Sophia De Valmond, "Nekotorie Sviedeniia o Krainei Bednosti Altaiskikh
Novokreshchennikh " Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1, no. 2 (1904): 76.
119. "Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1875 God," Missioner, no. 18 (1877):
143.
120. Katsuba, "Blagotvoritelnaia Rol Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," 73; for more about
material help provided by the Altaian mission to natives, see Vasilii Verbitskii, "Ocherk
Deiatelnosti Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii po Sluchaiu Piatidesiatiletiia Yeio Yubileia (1830-
246
1880)," in Pamiatnaia Knizhka Tomskoi Gubernii (Tomsk: Tip. Gubernskago Upravleniia,

1885), 216-217.
121. Borodavkin and Khrapova, "K Voprosu o Kulturno-Prosvetitelskoi Deiatelnosti
Arkhimandrita Makariia," 15; Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 247.
122. Stefan Landyshev, "Izvlecheniia iz Pisem Missionera, Protoiereia Stefana
Landysheva, 1856-1853 G.G.,'1 in Pamiatnik Trudov Pravoslavnykh Blagoviestnikov
Russkikh s 1793 do 1853 Goda, ed. Alexandru Sturdza (Moskva: Tip. V. Gote, 1857), 193194,102; idem, Sviedieniia obAltaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 5; Vasilii Verbitskii,
"Zapiski Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Dukhvnoi Missii za 1865 God,"
Pravoslavnoe Obozrenie 19, no. 1 (1866): 79.
124. "Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1875 God" Missioner, no. 18 (1877):
144.
za 1862 God," 149; Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 12.
126. Konstantyn V. Kharlampovich, "Sophia De Valmond. K Istorii Altaiskoi Missii,"
Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1, no. 10 (1904): 20-27; Dogurevich, SvietAzii, 90; Verbitskii,
"Ocherk Deiatelnosti Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii," 212-213.
127. Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 24-25;
Chevalkov, Pamiatnoe Zavieshchanie, 55-56; "Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia v 1902 Godu,"
Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2, no. 11 (1903): 107-108. A short history of this Christian
female community can be found in "Ulalinskaia Zhenskaia Obshchina na Altae," Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik 2, no. 15 (1904): 316-321; 2, no. 16 (1904): 368-372; 3, no. 17 (1904): 2629.
128. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 41 ; Otchet ob Altaiskoi i
Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu, 30; Sbornik Sviedenii o Pravoslavnikh Missiakh i Deiatelnosti
Pravoslavnago Missionerskago Obshchestva, vol. 2, 268, 431; Tomskiia Eparkhialnyia
Viedomosti, no. 10 (1906): 20.
129. A. V. Anokhin, Materialy po Shamanstvu u Altaitsev, Sobrannye vo Vremia
Puteshestvii po Altaiu v 1910-1912 G. G : Po Porucheniiu Russkogo Komiteta Dlia Izucheniia
Srednei i Vostochnoi Azii (Gorno-Altaisk: Ak Chechek, 1994), 26.
130. Verbitskii, "Vipiska iz Zhurnala Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi
Dukhovnoi Missii, Sviashchennika Vasiliia Verbitskago," 552.
131. Idem, "Zapiski Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za
1864 God, " 151-152; "Kreshchenie Iazichnitsy," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 17
(1904): 17.
Inorodcheskago Missionerstva v Sibiri," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 17 (1904): 5.
133. Modorov, Rossiia i Gornii Altai, 261; Poplavskaia, "K Voprosu o Pravoslavnom
Missionerstve na Altae," 105.
134. M. P-v, "Sviatiny Altma" Dushepoleznoe Chienie, no. 25 (1884): 214-215; Sbornik
Sviedeniii o Pravoslavnikh Missiakh i Deiatelnosti Pravoslavnago Missionerskago
Obshchestva, vol. 2, 430; Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 42.
135. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 94-95.
136. Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 27; Pravoslavnyi
Blagoviestnik, no. 15 (1896): 65.
Dialogues
about Spirit and Power
247
137. "Otchet ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1875 God," Missioner, no. 10(1877): 77;
Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu, 10.
138. Tomskiia Eparkhialnyia Viedomosti 7, no. 1 (1909): 287.
139. Vasilii Postnikov,"Zapiski Missionera Miutinskago Stana Altaiskoi Missii za 1876,"
Missioner, no. 51 (1877): 418.
140. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 16, 34-35, 110.
141. M. Tashkinov, "Iz Putevago Zhurnala M. Tashkinova," in Missionerstvo naAltae i v
Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 1.
142. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 39; Radlov, Iz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika,
81; Tomskiia Eparkhialnyia Viedomosti, no. 5 (1886): 2.
143. Aleksei P. Umanskii, Teleuty i Russkie v XVII-XVIII Vekakh (Novosibirsk: Nauka,
1980), 284-285; idem, "O Teieutskoi Reemigratsii v Gornii Altai," in Etnografiia Altaia,
ed. T. K. Shcheglova (Barnaul: Barnaulskii Pedagogicheskii Universitet, 1996), 77-79;
Sinkovskii, Zapiski Altaiskago Missionera, 75-58.
Dukhovnoi Missii, Sviashchennika Vasiliia Verbitskago," 555-556.
145. Radlov, Iz Sibiri: Stranitsy Dnevnika, 203, 181.
146. Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 10.
148. Altaiskaia i Kirgizskaia Missii Tomskoi Eparkhii v 1892 Godu (Biisk: Tipo-Litografiia
I. D. Rebrova, 1893), 15.
149. Quated after Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 94.
150. Ibid., 110-111.
151. Dmitri A. Funk, "Bachatskie Teleuti v XIX-Nachale XX Veka" (Cnd. Hist. Sc.
diss., Institut Etnografri, 1991), 17; Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov," 227.
152. Zamechatelnie Sluchai Proiavleniia Promisla Bozhiia na Altae, ed. Konstantyn
Sokolov (Tomsk: Tip. Detskago Priiuta i Doma Trudoliubiia, 1912), 44.
153. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 113.
154. Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu, 24.
155. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 12-13.
157. Verbitskii, "Zapiski Missionera Kuznetskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Dukhvnoi Missii
za 1865 God," 92; Kimeev, Shortsy, 111.
Dukhovnoi Missii Sviashchennika Vasiliia Verbitskago," 547; Landyshev, Sviedieniia ob
Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za Shest Liet, 10.
za 1864 God," 151-152.
za 1864 God, "273.
163. Ibid., 217.
164. Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 101, 113.
248
Shamanism and
Christianity
165. "Altaiskaia Dukhovnaia Missiia v 1897 Godu," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1, no. 6

(1898): 259.
166. Potapov, Ocherkipo lstorii Shorii, 230.
167. Anokhin, Materialypo Shamanstvu uAltaitsev, 29.
Dukhovnoi Missii, Sviashchennika Vasiliia Verbitskago," 551.
169. Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu, 23.
170. "Iz Zhizni Altaiskoi Missii v Proshedshem Godu," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1,
no. 6 (1902): 249.
Dukhovnoi Missii, Sviashchennika Vasiliia Verbitskago," 549; Kimeev, Shortsy, 111.
173. Chevalkov, Pamiatnoe Zavieshchanie, 25-26.
za 1864 God, " 262-264; Shvetsova, 'Altaiskie Kalmiky," 11.
175. Ioann Shtigashev, Predanie Inorodtsev Kuznetskago Okruga o Sotvorenii Mira i
Pervago Cheloveka (N.p., n.d.), 4-5, 8, 10.
176. Vasilii Verbitskii, A Itaiskie Inorodtsy: Sbornik Etnograficheskikh Stte i i Izsliedovanii
Altaiskago Missionera (Moskva: T-vo Skoropechatni A. A. Levenson, 1893), 111-117,
125-128, 137-138.
177. Satlaev, Kumandintsy: Istoriko Etnograficheskii Ocherk, 162-164; Kimeev, Shortsy,
127-128.
178. Ibid., 126.
180. Zamechatelnie Sluchai Proiavleniia Promis la Bozhiia na Altae.
181. Ibid., 49-50.
182. M. P-v, "Sviatiny Altaia," 223-224.
183. Ibid., 222; Eroshov and Kimeev, Tropoiu Missionerov, 94.
184. Iastrebov, Protsess Usvoenia Khristianstva Altaiskimi Inorodtsami, 4.
185. Postnikov, "Zapiski Missionera Miutinskago Stana Altaiskoi Missii za 1876," 427;
Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 20.
Sviashchennika Petra Benediktova za 1892 God," in Altaiskaia i Kirgizskaia Missii Tomskoi
Eparkhii v 1892, Appendix II, 8.
187. Zamechatelnie Sluchai Proiavleniia Promisla Bozhiia na Altae, 9.
188. Ibid., 29.
189. Sergei Ivanovskii, "Iz Zapisok Missionera Kabezenskago Otdelenia, Altaiskoi Missii,
Sviashchennika Sergeia Ivanovskago za 1892 God," in Altaiskaia i Kirgizskaia Missii v
1892, AppendixIII, 17.
190. Zamechatelnie Sluchai Proiavleniia Promisla Bozhiia na Altae, 47-48.
191. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 30.
192. A. Kanshin, "Iz Zapisok Uchitelia Il'inskoi Missionerskoi Shkoly Cherno-Anuiskago
Otdelenia A. Kanshina," in Otchet ob Altaiskoi i Kirgizskoi Missii v 1888 Godu, 51 ; Shvetsova,
"Altaiskie Kalmiky " 17.
193. Kimeev, Shortsy, 111; Batianova, "Obshchina u Teleutov," 198.
249

195. Ibid.
196. "Dmitri Klements to Count D. I. Tolstoi, June 24, 1904," Pisma Etnografa D.
Klementsa Grafu D. I. Tolstomu, RGIA, f. 696, op. 1, 1901-1907, ed. khr. 309,1. 5.
197. Burkhanizm: Dokumenty i Materialy, ed. N. A. Maidurova and N. A. Tadina (GornoAltaisk: Gorno-Altaiskii Gosudarstvennii Universitet, 1994), 294.
198. Stefan Borisov, "Iz Zapisok Altaiskago Missionera," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 2,
no. 15 (1902): 283. At the turn of the twentieth century missionaries also registered a number of cases of nomads' conversion to Orthodoxy through dreams as in northeastern Altai.
"Iz Zhizni Altaiskoi Missii v Proshedshem Godu," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 1, no. 6
(1902): 254. At the same time, in this region the "dream factor" sometimes worked in the
opposite way. Thus, the missionary Konstantyn Sokolov, who described a dream conversion of Sanaak, a fourteen-year-old boy, on the next page of his travel journal described
another incident, in which a dream produced an opposite effect. Boldyr, a native interpreter,
who wanted to accept Orthodoxy, had a visionary encounter with the devil, who threatened
to murder Boldyr if the native were to leave the faith of his ancestors. Such stories suggest
ambivalent attitudes of the nomadic Altaians toward conversion. Konstantyn Sokolov,
"Zapiski Missionera Ursulskago Otdelenia Altaiskoi Missii za 1900 God," Pravoslavnyi
199. For more about revitalization movements, see Anthony Wallace, "Revitalization
Movements," American Anthropologist 58, no. 1 ( 1956): 264-281 ; Vittorio Lanternari, The
Religions of the Oppressed, trans. Lisa Segio (London: Macgibbon & Kee, 1963); Bryan R.
Wilson, Magic and Millennium (St. Albans, UK: Paladin, 1975).
200. Note that this was the year when the land pressure on the nomadic Altaians gained
momentum.
201. Makarii Abyshkin, "Iz Gornago Altaia: Dnevnik Missionera," Pravoslavnyi
202. Joel W. Martin, Sacred Revolt: The Muskogee }s Struggle for a New World (Boston:
Beacon Press, 1991), 180.
Klementsa Grafu D. I. Tolstomu, RGIA, f. 696, op. 1, 1901-1907, ed. khr. 309,1. 3-3ob.
204. A. G. Danilin, Burkhanizm: Iz Istorii Natsionalno-Osvoboditelnogo Dvizheniia v
Gornom Altae (Gorno-Altaisk: Ak-Chechek, 1993), 24.
Klementsa Grafu D. I. Tolstomu, RGIA, f. 696, op. 1, 1901-1907, ed. khr. 309,1. 5.
206. Danilin, Burkhanizm, 99.
207. Ibid., 115.
208. Burkhanizm: Dokumenty i Materialy, 291 \ Danilin, Burkhanizm, 98, 116.
210. Burkhanizm: Dokumenty i Materialy, 250.
211. Abyshkin, "Iz Gornago Altaia: Dnevnik Missionera," 223.
212. Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa, 143-144, 153; "Religioznoe Dvizhenie na Altae,"
Sankt-Peterburgskie Viedomosti, no. 306 (1904): 2.
213. A. G. Danilin, "Burkhunism na Altae i Ego Kontrrevolutsionnaia Sushchnost,"
Sovetskaia Etnografia, no. 1 (1932): 66.
250
Shamanism and
Christianity
214. S. P. Shvetsov, "Iz Religioznoi Zhizni Altaitsev," Sibirskie Voprosy, no. 2 (1906):
155-159.
215. Lawrence Krder, "A Nativistic Movement in Western Siberia," American Anthropologist 58, no. 2 (1956): 282, 285.
217. Ibid., 40; Danilin, Burkhanizm, 153.
218. Jean Comaroff and John L. Comaroff, Of Revelation and Revolution: Christianity,
Colonialism, and Consciousness in South Africa (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1991), 311.
222. Danilin, Burkhanizm, 57, 155.
223. Idem: "Burkhunism na Altae i Ego Kontrrevolutsionnaia Sushchnost," 66.
224. James O. Gump, "A Spirit of Resistance: Sioux, Xhosa, and Maori Responses to
Western Dominance, 1840-1920," Pacific Historical Review 66, no. 1 (1997): 35.
225. For the full text of the court decision on Chet Cheplan's case, see Burkhanizm:
Dokumenty i Materialy, 190-193; for supression of the Tereng meeting, see in ibid., 21-29;
"Dmitri Klements to Count D. I. Tolstoi, June 24, 1904," Pisma Etnografa D. Klementsa
Grafu D. I. Tolstomu, RGIA, f. 696, op. 1,1901-1907, ed. khr. 309,1.4-4ob; Abyshkin, "Iz
Gornago Altaia: Dnevnik Missionera," Pravoslavnyi Blagoviestnik 3, no. 22 (1904): 250255; 3, no. 23 (1904): 299-304; Mamet, Oirotiia, 16-21; Russkie Viedomosti 42, no 4
(1904): 2; "Religioznoe Dvizhenie na Altae," Sankt-Peterburgskie Viedomosti, no. 306 (1904):
2.
226. Burkhanizm: Dokumenty i Materialy, 301-302; Danilin, Burkhanizm, 112.
227. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii za 1907 God, 28.
228. See the full text of the petition in Innokentii, Altaiskaia Missiia v 1907, 22-23;
Burkhanizm: Dokumenty i Materialy, 218-219.
229. Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa, 155-158.
231. "Otchet ob Altaiskoi Missi za 1909 God," Tomskiia Eparkhialnyia Viedomosti, no.
11 (1910): 449-450; Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mif a, 157; Danilin, Burkhanizm, 121.
234. Otchet Altaiskoi Dukhovnoi Missii Tomskoi Eparkhii za 1915 God (Tomsk: TipoLitografiia Mikhailova i Makushina, 1916), 39.
236. "Delo o Prisoedinenii k Pravoslavnoi Tserkvi Iazichnikov-Telengitov v Chisle 400
Chelovek," RG1A, f. 796, op. 203, 1916, 2 st. 43 otd., ed. krh. 242,1. 1-4.
240. Anokhin, Materialipo Shamanstvu uAltaitsev, 6; Mamet, Oirotiia, 23.
241. Potapov, Ocherki po Istorii Altaitsev, 355; Ekeev, "Agrarnaia Politika Tsarizma i
Zemleustroistva v Gornom Altae Nachala XX Veka," 116.
251
242. Missionerstvo na Altae i v Kirgizskoi Stepi v 1885 Godu, 15; Mamet, Oirotiia, 34;
Danilin, Burkhanizm, 79-83.
244. Sagalaev, Altai v Zerkale Mifa> 163.
245. Potapov, Ocherkipo IstoriiAltaitsev, 358.
246. Mamet and Danilin articulated this viewpoint most visibly. Mamet, Oirotiia and
Danilin, Burkhanizm.
247. Wallace, "Revitalization Movements."
248. Gump, "Spirit of Resistance," 22-23.
249. Martin, Sacred Revolt, ix, 181, 185-186.
KlementsaGrafu D. I. Tolstomu, RGIAy f. 696, op. 1, 1901-1907, ed. khr. 309,1. 5. Danilin,
a Soviet student of Burkhanism in the 1930s, in his elsewhere valuable work dismisses
Klements's and similar viewpoints as downplaying the socioeconomic character of the
movement. Danilin, Burkhanizm, 22-27.
252. Ibid., 263.
253. Ibid., 264.
254. Andrei M. Sagalaev, "Altaitsy: Staraia Religiia i 'Novaia' Ideologiia," in Narody
Sibiri: Prava i Vozmozhnosty, ed. A. P. Derevianko (Novosibirsk: Rossiiskaia Akademiia
Nauk Sibirskoe Otdelene, 1997), 65-66.
255. Sagalaev, "O Zakonomernostiakh Vospriatiia Mirovikh Religii Tiurkami SaianoAltaia," 167-168.
256. Idem, "Altaitsy: Staraia Religiia i 'Novaia' Ideologiia," 63.
Conclusion
One of the major premises of this book is that both the nature of indigenous beliefs
and surrounding social, political, and economic circumstances shaped the character of native-missionary dialogue in Alaska and Siberia. Like many other nonindustrialized peoples, native peoples of these areas approached reality in holistic
terms and treated economic, social, political, and spiritual activities as inseparable
parts of a single entity. Moreover, indigenous beliefs were concerned with maintaining the integrity of these realms. Not surprisingly, "native religions" equally
dealt with the problems of both daily existence and the afterlife. As one
ethnohistorian of Siberian native peoples has put it, native belief was more than a
religion: "It was the way of survival."1 To be successful in their social and economic life native peoples of Alaska and Siberia sought medicine power through a
dialogue with the spiritual forces of nature. Success or failure in daily activities
demonstrated whether people had gained or lost spiritual power.2
Although everyone could seek the help of spirits, only shamans were endowed
with a responsibility to generate medicine power on behalf of the whole community. By negotiating with spirits, medicine men and women accumulated a sacred
power necessary for the treatment of social and physical disorders. To become a
shaman meant obtaining power of various kinds unavailable to other members of
the group.3 Despite considerable influence, native healers occupied a shaky status
compared to that of Christian priests. Unlike Christianity, native societies lacked
an institutionalized clergy. The present work underscores the unstable position of
indigenous shamans, who repeatedly had to renew their spiritual power in order to
keep up with changes. Medicine men and women competed with each other and
continually had to prove their power to people. For this reason, these indigenous
healers sought useful medicine from as many sources as possible. This general
stance of native beliefs later served as a strong impetus for a dialogue with Christianity, in the event that native peoples became disillusioned with the results of
254
Conclusion
"traditional medicine" or simply felt they needed additional spiritual remedies.

Eventually, those communities that faced transformations wrought by colonial
hegemony started blending indigenous and Christian beliefs in ways that stunned
clerics, appearing to be a moral corruption.
When native societies enjoyed social and economic stability, shamans occupied
privileged positions. On the contrary, where there were radical changes traditional
healers were not always able to provide instant cures for the existing problems or
meaningful explanations of occurring events. Such disruptions undermined the
shamans' power and prestige. Under these circumstances, native peoples freely
turned to other sources of medicine, including the European ones. The devastating
epidemics that wiped out a large portion of aboriginal populations in both Siberia
and North America provide the most evident example of the challenge that many
indigenous shamans could not withstand.
In his recent book, Iverson grasps the spiritual consequences of the disorder
with which native societies had to cope as a result of epidemics:
As many recent historians have noted, disease struck at the center of tribal life. Disease
killed the elders, the storehouses of community knowledge and ritual. It called into question the fragile harmony the tribal shamans had attempted to maintain. It reduced or eliminated
military opposition to European expansion. And it provided an entree for the white man's
shamans, who seemingly had power to control the diseases, for these religious leaders
never seemed to be sick.4
Native interactions with Christianity intensified not only in the wake of the epidemics. In the areas where indigenous peoples lost a greater part of their land and
economies, they eagerly sought to survive within the now-dominant Christian society. The Dena'ina, who had to deal with the advancing Euroamerican culture,
and the Altaians, encircled by Russian newcomers, exemplify such attitudes. On
the other hand, in circumstances when natives maintained balanced power relations with newcomers or even dictated their own terms of a cultural dialogue, they
demonstrated little interest in the "white man's medicine." Such conditions existed
among the Chukchi nomads in northeastern Siberia and among southwestern Altaian
pastoral groups.
Initial drives to interact with Orthodoxy varied. It could be political or ideological considerations shared by the northeastern Altaian forest hunters and gatherers,
who wanted to maintain trade and economic relations with the Russian majority. It
might be goals of religious revitalization as in the case of Altaian nomads, who
merged a few Christian elements with shamanism and Lamaism in order to shape
a new Altaian ideology. Finally, it could be the Dena'ina's conscious choice of
Russian Orthodoxy as a cultural bridge that helped retain their identity within the
dominant American culture. In all situations it was the native peoples who chose to
negotiate with or reject Orthodoxy. Although it is impossible to deny that colonial
hegemonies established certain borders for native agency, sources indicate that
those indigenous peoples (the Dena'ina and northeastern Altaians), who decided
Conclusion
255
to enter an active dialogue with Christianity faced no direct pressure from missionaries or authorities.
In cases when natives did enter a dialogue with Christianity, the general tolerant
demeanor of Orthodoxy enhanced the relationship with natives. The explanation
for such treatment is twofold: First, the semi-traditional character of Russian society preserved a large number of "traditionalist" ceremonies in both formal and
popular Orthodoxy. As a matter of fact, Orthodoxy inherited a large "dosage" of
ancient ritualism from early Christianity and placed much stress on artifacts of
faith. This "traditionalist" nature of the Russian church boosted native-Christian
dialogues in its own way. Both natives and clerics often did not see any contradictions in negotiating the character and essence of specific Christian and native rituals
in an attempt to find a middle ground.
Elements of Orthodoxy such as liturgy (with the cult of ancestors), sacred places,
Russian folk healing, icons, and solemn religious processions allowed missionaries to establish a rapport with indigenous land-based beliefs, which put a similar
stress on ceremonialism. For example, elaborate and an esthetically attractive Orthodox mortuary rituals also could be easily integrated by indigenous peoples and
adjusted to their funeral rites as Kan shows us in his insightful analysis of the
Tlingit Orthodox memorial rituals.5 Not only the clerics acted as Orthodox messengers on the Russian eastern borderland; promishienniki, landless peasants, and
Cossacks also exposed indigenous societies to their own version of Christianity by
cultivating folk beliefs, frequently in opposition to the official church.6 Moreover,
some researchers go further and suggest that Russian popular religion contained
"shades of shamanism." Some of these scholars even establish genetic links between so-called holy fools and shamans. The existence of such elements in popular
Orthodoxy, as Marjorie M. Balzer indicates, made many Siberian Russians lenient
toward or susceptible to indigenous shamanism.7
Popular attitudes to Christian saints also reveal healing and power motives, which
were not so noticeable in formal church doctrine. Thus, Russian peasants revered
St. Nicholas and depicted him as a common people's protector, whom they occasionally placed close to or even higher than Jesus Christ. The religious scholar
Galina Nosova finds a connection between St. Nicholas and traditional spirit-protectors.8 More importantly, in Russian popular religion St. Nicholas was perceived
as a wandering healer who practiced active and brave charity, which, according to
the anthropologists Balzerand Kira V. Tsekhanskaia, made him extremely popular
among indigenous Siberians.9 All in all, elements of official and popular Christianity mentioned made Orthodoxy more tolerant of native beliefs. Interestingly,
Glukharev, one of the founders of the native evangelization project in the nineteenth century, insisted that Christianization of natives be accompanied by
enlightening the Russian peasant masses themselves.10
Furthermore, missionary policy inherited the tolerant stance from an earlier
monastic tradition that emphasized Orthodox ascetic behavior and moral example
as major tools of conversion. Monks were among the first who carried Orthodoxy
to native communities in the eastern borderlands. As a result, attitudes such as
256
Conclusion
"Teach and show them [natives] a good example by our own good living"11 later
affected a greater part of Russian missionary doctrine, which, without rejecting
eventual Russification of natives, stressed that this would be a long and gradual
process. Yet, in the nineteenth century Orthodox missionary strategy was not totally tolerant of native customs, languages, and beliefs. Some clerics, especially at
the end of the century with the rise of Russian nationalism, attempted to promote
Russification.
In reality, however, such voices had little effect on evangelization for two reasons: methods practiced by Orthodox messengers developed within a lenient
tradition brought to life by Glukharev and Veniaminov and the native educator
Ilminskii, the founding fathers of the Russian missionary enterprise. All three insisted on using indigenous languages arid native clergy to convey the Christian
message. Despite complex attitudes toward indigenous cultures among clerics, on
the whole the missionary policy rejected direct attacks on native lifeways. The
Ilminskii System, which promoted education of natives in their indigenous languages, and Veniaminov's Missionary Instructions, which restrained missionaries
from Russification, received the approval of church and secular officials.
It is noteworthy that this approach fit the general imperial policy toward indigenous peoples of eastern borderlands. The empire did not pursue any consistent
Russification of the native periphery, giving preference instead to integration of
indigenous elites into the imperial system. Major governmental regulations related to native Siberian and Alaskans such as the Statute of Alien Native
Administration and the Russian-American Company Charter clearly forbade imposition of Orthodoxy. The second factor that made Orthodox Christianity tolerant
of native traditions was that the Russian missionary enterprise simply lacked the
manpower and authority to bring about any such imposition on natives. Along
with the accepted practice of delegating responsibilities for chapel services to indigenous laymen readers, who were people with rudimentary Orthodox training,
this opened doors to translating Orthodoxy through the glasses of indigenous tradition.
Throughout the nineteenth century missionaries realized that to "upgrade" natives by simply propagating the Gospel and transmitting Orthodoxy through
indigenous channels was not enough for its successful dissemination. For this reason, in addition to regular propagation of Christianity, clerics tried to provide
medical help to natives and encouraged mutual aid activities in order to draw tribal
societies closer to Orthodoxy and to eradicate "harmful" native customs. Eventually, at the turn of the twentieth century lamentations about a demographic decline,
miserable conditions, and the mental degradation of "savage" peoples became the
most popular missionary metaphors.
As far as Siberia and Alaska are concerned, the experiences of the Altaians,
Chukchi, and Dena'ina demonstrate uneven responses of natives to Christianity.
Simply put, these reactions ranged from the "unresponsive" Chukchi to the "responsive" Dena'ina, with the Altaians in between. The present work does not look
for similarities or common patterns in aboriginal relations with missionaries. On
'
Conclusion
257
the contrary, my comparative analysis emphasizes differences in indigenous experiences. A model offered by the sociologist Ann Swindler might be helpful for
interpretation of these diverse interactions. Although, as mentioned, the "ethnicity
as a strategy" approach does not exhaust all aspects of native-Christian dialogues,
it helps illustrate a general tendency. Swindler introduces definitions of "settled"
and "unsettled" periods for the analysis of the intensity of contacts among cultures. During times of "settled lives" people are not much interested in alternative
models. As a result, "the cultural repertoire limits the available range of strategies
of action," and cultures constrain the behavior of their members. Swindler stresses,
"Although internally diverse and often contradictory, they [strategies] provide the
ritual traditions that regulate ordinary patterns of authority and cooperation, and
they so define common sense that alternative ways of organizing action seem unimaginable, or at least implausible."12 On the contrary, during "unsettled periods"
traditional ideologies compete with alternative ones. In the course of their dialogues with alternative concepts people gradually alter their earlier cultural
assumptions.13
The cases analyzed in the present work provide examples of both "settled" and
"unsettled" cultures. Though being active in Russian and American trade and contacts with the settlers, by maintaining their land and economy Chukchi found
themselves in a "settled" situation. As a result, they acted as a self-sufficient group
and maintained and relied on their native beliefs. By taking advantage of the competition between American and Russian interests they also enjoyed a strategically
favorable position in the northeastern Siberian "middle ground." Demographically,
Russian and Creole populations in Chukchi country represented a minority who
depended on local populations for food supplies, especially reindeer meat. Therefore, the Chukchi were able to act as influential role players, who dictated their
own terms in a cultural dialogue. The fact that this tribal group was the only native
one in Siberia that did not pay tribute tells us much about the status of these natives
within the empire.
Though a few Chukchi, especially those who lived in the vicinity of the Russian/
Creole settlements, developed vague monotheistic concepts of "He Above" and
the "reindeer master," their contacts with missionaries did not go beyond occasional meetings during trade fairs. Under these circumstances, Russian Christianity
occupied only a marginal place in local indigenous and even Russian/Creole cultures. The weak position of the empire in the northern Pacific generally contributed
to the dismissal of Orthodoxy as a possible alternative ideology. The Chukchi,
especially their nomadic segments, simply did not see any spiritual power in the
Russian church. Moreover, in the Siberian northeast we observe the reverse influence of shamanism on mixed-blood people and some Russians. Occasionally, when
the Chukchi expressed an interest in contacting clerics, they did so to gain missionary presents or to maintain trade relations with the Russians. The example of
the Chukchi demonstrates that not everywhere and not always were indigenous
populations eager to use elements of Christianity.
258
Conclusion
In another Siberian area, Altai, where the empire possessed a strong strategic
position, native-missionary encounters took an absolutely different form. Fur and
agricultural resources of the Altai attracted a movement of mass colonization. Being
mostly agrarian by origin and occupation the colonizers did not see any economic
benefits in mastering native lifeways.14 Instead, they transplanted to Altai their
agricultural and social patterns from European Russia. In addition, Altai became
the only area in the Russian eastern borderlands where the Orthodox church made
an effort to concentrate considerable resources. The location of the region on the
border with the rival Lamaist tradition and the empire's moral support to the Altai
mission explain the zealous activities of Orthodox clerics in this area. During the
nineteenth century, the Altaians found themselves in "unsettled" conditions surrounded by dominant segments of Russian peasants and traders. By 1913 the
majority of the Altaians formally became Russian Orthodox, but these affiliations
carried strong political considerations. To survive in the new colonial environment, they developed a strategy to employ structures brought by the newcomers.
In their eyes Orthodoxy stood as a symbol of imperial power, a perception strengthened by the dependent status of native leadership, who collected tribute on behalf
of the empire.
Though driven by similar motives, the northeastern and southwestern Altaians
differed in their dialogues with missionaries. The former gradually merged Orthodox rituals with indigenous ones by creating syncretic beliefs from as early as the
first half of the nineteenth century. In southwestern Altai, local natives, like the
Chukchi, were resistant and maintained this mind-set to the end of the nineteenth
century. In northeast Altai from the end of the eighteenth century natives established close economic and social connections with the Russians through the fur
trade and credit obligations. To reinforce these ties, some of them started to borrow elements of Orthodoxy and merge them with indigenous beliefs. The interest
of the northeastern natives in Christianity increased after the 1880s, when the government destroyed the institution of hereditary leadership and sponsored instead
the election of headmen approved by authorities. Missionaries who initiated this
reform had a lot to say in such elections. As a result, native chieftains whose position depended on their successful dealings with the Russians sought to use Orthodox
power to buttress their status.
Unlike their northern fellow tribesmen, the southwestern Altaians, who were
self-sufficient "settled" stockbreeders throughout the entire nineteenth century,
did not develop close connections with the Russians until the 1860s. Though these
nomads were familiar with basic Christian concepts, Orthodoxy did not entrench
itself here as an acceptable strategy before the turn of the twentieth century. Strict
communal control over individual religious behavior excluded the type of syncretism developed in northeastern Altai. However, from the 1860s their territory became
the object of mass agricultural colonization. The Russian newcomers changed the
nomadic landscape, economy, and political system. Indigenous territory shrank
and communal lands were partitioned into small family land plots.
Conclusion
259
The southwestern Altaians apparently realized that they had to find their own
place in the colonial system. At the same time, natives and newcomers lacked a
common cultural space because of the relative isolation of nomadic population.
Therefore, there was no tradition of a dialogue between native beliefs and Orthodoxy before the beginning of mass colonization and natives were not ready to
borrow outright from Russian Christianity. Hence, the nomads, literally thrown
into the new conditions, responded with a millenarian doctrine, the only possible
strategy under these circumstances. This movement, called Burkhanism, creatively
blended shamanism, Christianity, and Mongolian Lamaism to bring to life a new
nativist religion. For a long time, scholars concentrated their attention on anticolonial aspects of this religious revitalization and stressed that its participants dismissed
Russian culture. The interpretation offered in the present work differs from this
approach. In this view the Altaian spiritual revival not only carried an anticolonialist
message, but sought to construct a new culture. Burkhanism started and evolved
with a severe attack on the old shamanism, and this internal self-purge occupied an
important place in the entire movement. In this regard, the present work draws
more attention to internal developments in Burkhanism.
At the same time, because of its messianic nature the cult failed to offer any
livable cultural setting to native populations. Moreover, epidemic diseases wiped
out many of the chief preachers of Burkhanism and undermined the power of its
message. The diminished influence of this cult encouraged many nomads to resort
to the Russian Orthodox church or to switch back to shamanism. Although after a
decline of radical Burkhanism shamanism partially regained its prestige and the
number of the Altaian conversions to Christianity also increased, many nomads
started to appeal to all three spiritual traditions simultaneously. Until the 1920s
these tree traditions continued to coexist in southern Altai, creating ambiguous
religious picture in the region. Thus, Orthodoxy still, far from becoming a dominant ideological force, was simply included in the existing religious landscape.
The very location of southwestern Altai placed local nomads at the crossroads of
distinct religious traditions, which allowed natives to make a choice that they had
not always had in northern Altai. In addition to close interactions with the neighboring Lamaist tradition in Mongolia, local Altaians were exposed to the Old
Believers, Orthodox schismatics, who persistently challenged the power of the
Russian church and "confused" natives about "genuine" Orthodoxy.
Like the northern Altaians, the Dena'ina of Alaska formally became Orthodox
by the beginning of the twentieth century. However, they had far different motives
for the adoption of Christianity. Although familiar with Orthodoxy when Alaska
was still a Russian colony, the Dena'ina did not show much interest in this religion
until the 1890s, when American economic and cultural advance altered their landscapes. The changes wrought by the decline of the fur trade, railroad construction,
and mass influx of miners and cannery workers reshaped the social and cultural
models that had satisfied Dena'ina needs in the nineteenth century. As an "unsettled" society, the Dena'ina had to find an appropriate ideology to survive in the
dynamic white society. The nature of Russian Christianity, which seemed more
260
Conclusion
familiar to the Dena'ina and more "traditional'* than Protestantism, proved to be

helpful for building a sense of ethnicity. It appears that they started to treat Orthodoxy as a useful ideological instrument to mediate with American culture and
used this church to reinforce their own identity.
Despite their total embrace of Orthodoxy, the Dena'ina transformed Russian
Christianity according to their cultural expectations and started to view it as their
indigenous religion. Moreover, this Native American group did not use the Russian church only for spiritual purposes, but employed Christian brotherhoods,
temperance societies, and chapels as tools for local control and self-government.
Dena'ina headmen especially supported the church structure, which allowed them
to maintain their leadership role, which had been undermined by changes. Russian
Orthodoxy became indigenous to the point that in the beginning of the twentieth
century the Indians believed that they had had Bible stories long before the Russians had come to their country.
A comparative analysis of three individual native biographies sheds more light
on three types of indigenous-missionary interactions described. Experiences of
Nikolai Amrawurgin, a Chukchi leader, exemplified little interest in the Russian
church in northeastern native Siberia. Amrawurgin and his group belonged to the
few Chukchi bands who adopted formal requisites of Orthodoxy, driven by the
necessity to expand their reindeer pastures farther west, close to the Russian Kolyma
settlements, where they had to secure official residency permission from authorities. Although praised in church records, Amrawurgin, who occasionally
demonstrated his loyalty to Orthodox symbols while visiting Russian settlements,
remained a practicing shamanist to the end of his life. The biography of this person, who was eventually nominated by Russian authorities to the position of "highest
chief of all Chukchi," which was ignored by the rest of the Chukchi population,
demonstrates the limitations of Orthodoxy in northeastern Siberia.
On the contrary, the life story of Chevalkov, a native from central Altai, provides
a different picture. Though initially interested in Orthodoxy as a psychological
outlet for his family problems, he later mastered this religion to boost his authority
among the Altaians and in relation to colonial officials, who supervised Altaian
self-government. Chevalkov quickly realized that his affiliation with missionaries
could help upgrade his social status in the eyes of his fellow tribesmen. Chevalkov's
experiences were part of the Altaian strategy of communal survival devoted to
mastering social, political, and religious channels introduced by the newcomers.
Any attentive reader of his autobiography notices that for Chevalkov the spiritual
power of Orthodoxy and imperial power stood as synonyms. He constantly underscored his good relationships with the Russian authorities and the important
assignments they delegated to him. It is also interesting that throughout his narrative Chevalkov accentuated two things: that the Christian saints, primarily St.
Nicholas, helped him in his trade as well as in political pursuits, and, second, that
his Orthodox activities received favorable responses from colonial officials, missionaries, and native people. Possibly his autobiography illuminates the attitudes
toward Orthodoxy of many other Altaians, especially in the northeast.
Conclusion
261
The experiences of Zachar Evanoff, a Dena'ina headman from the Nondalton

village, illustrate specific Dena'ina interactions with Russian Christianity. Like
Chevalkov, Evanoff looked for better opportunities both for himself and for his
community to survive in the changing world such as bringing American schooling
to Nondalton and using the American flag to celebrate the Fourth of July, a holiday
they had never observed before.15 He excluded, however, Protestantism from this
toolkit of American attributes and zealously continued Orthodox practices.
Evanoff's attitude demonstrated that the Dena'ina found in Orthodoxy something
that helped them survive in American Alaska. It might be suggested that the reason
Orthodoxy entrenched itself among the Dena'ina was that this branch of Christianity was acceptable both to the Dena'ina, who found here a number of rituals
that were relatively easy to integrate into the native religion, and to the surrounding society, which might regard their affiliation with Orthodoxy as a proof that the
Indians had indeed become "civilized" Christians. As a village leader, Evanoff
supervised participation in Orthodox ceremonies and construction of a new chapel,
and since a missionary had not visited the village for a long time, he and a few
other Dena'ina took over religious leadership. Moreover, he offered eloquent impromptu sermons, which provide a good example of an indigenous rereading of
Christianity.16 These facts suggest that the Orthodox message that earlier had found
modest response was able to satisfy the Dena'ina's spiritual and cultural aspirations at the second half of the nineteenth century.
Last, but not the least important factor that explains different interactions of
three native peoples with Orthodox missionaries is internal social, economic, and
spiritual organization of the indigenous societies discussed. What strikes any observer who compares the Altaians, Chukchi, and Dena'ina is that pastoral
communities were more resistant to outside ideological influences. Take, for example, the southern Altaians or nomadic Chukchi, who from the very beginning
gave missionaries a cold reception. On the other hand, the hunting semisedentary
societies of Denai'ina and northern Altaians, although to a different extent, allowed Orthodoxy to entrench itself in their social life and ideology. Scholars have
already stressed these striking differences between hunting and pastoral societies
in their responses to missionary doctrines. It appears that part of the explanation
lies in the differences between belief systems. It has been mentioned that in pastoral societies the more abstract and differentiated gods maintained a fixed cosmic
order, unlike the gods in the hunting societies, which were open to innovations.17
In addition, before active contacts with Orthodox missionaries all these beliefs
were historically "wrapped" in specific cultural traditions, which made them more
opened or closed to outside influences. Thus, before the 1700s, in southern Altai
as a result of long and abortive attempts of Mongolian Lamaism to suppress native
shamanism, the nomads maintained a strong tradition of resistance to any outside
interference in indigenous religion. Coupled with nomads' economic self-sufficiency, these cultural orientations brought to life strong community control over
religious behavior and in the long run did not encourage establishment of a dialogue between missionaries and Altaian pastoralists.
262
Conclusion
Among the reindeer Chukchi, whose nomadic camps similarly maintained economic self-sufficiency, in the course of an acceleration of reindeer economy and
expansion to new pastures the population spread over a large tundra area in northeastern Siberia. Increasing geographical isolation of individual bands and even
households encouraged their independence in matters of religion. Many functions
usually performed by shamans in other societies (like sacrificing) were taken over
by heads of nomadic bands. Furthermore, prosperity in reindeer herding was tightly
connected with regular performance and maintenance of specific band rituals. Such
a stance did not encourage replacement of existing ceremonialism with other religious practices.
It seems that Dena'ina society, on the contrary, favored active innovations both
in social and economic life and in the religious sphere. Recent newcomers to the
Cook Inlet area, which had earlier been occupied by the Alutiiq, the Dena'ina
made active adjustments to maritime life by borrowing elements of the Alutiiq's
economic techniques and life-styles and blending them with their own tradition of
forest hunters and fishers. The Dena'ina cultural stance that encouraged accommodation to and experiments with neighboring peoples' ways apparently affected
their religious worldview by making it more open to innovation and less conservative.
In my view, to the differences in beliefs and cultural orientations, specifics of
native social and economic organization should be added. First, it was evident that
for missionaries pastoral bands were simply hard to "chase," unlike natives who
resided in semipermanent villages, who were much easier to access. More important, societies like reindeer Chukchi or southern Altaian herders seemed to be more
stable economically and socially. Although their herds certainly experienced ravages of epizootics, pastoralists were apparently less affected by accidents in their
subsistence activities as hunting and fishing societies were. Simply put, pastoralists
were not so "crisis-prone" as their hunting and fishing counterparts. The distinct
responses to Orthodox clerics provided by northern and southern Altaians, whose
core beliefs were essentially the same, is a good illustration of how differences in
native economies and social ways affected their relationships with Christian missionaries.
Individual and collective interactions of the Altaians, Chukchi, and Dena'ina
with Russian Christianity suggest that both native cultures and surrounding economic/political conditions equally affected the character of indigenous contacts
with Orthodox missionaries. Moreover, though native responses to Orthodoxy
varied, desires to maintain personal or communal integrity still defined indigenous
relations with clerics. It appears that the strategies indigenous peoples used in
these interactions depended on spiritual power considerations and a search for
meaningful explanation of reality. Although, on the surface, native attitudes toward Christianity took a practical form, they centered around the search for better
spiritual remedies to solve existing problems. The result was diversity of native
responses to Orthodoxy driven by different circumstances. A greater part of the
Chukchi tended to disregard Christianity, whereas the Dena'ina built a native reli-
Conclusion
263
gion from Orthodoxy. The attitudes of the third group, the Altaians, were more
ambivalent: some of them (forest hunters and gatherers) selectively incorporated
elements of Christianity into their beliefs, and others (nomads) barely adopted
Orthodoxy.
NOTES
1. Elena Glavatskaya, "Christianization = Russification? On Preserving the Religious
and Ethnic Identity of the Ob-Ugrians," in Shamanism and Northern Ecology, ed. Juha
Pentikainen (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996), 381.
2. Elizabeth Colson, "Power at Large: Mediation on 'the Symposium on Power,'" in
Anthropology of Power. Ethnographical Studies from Asia, Oceania, and the New World,
ed. Raymond D. Fogelson and Richard N. Adams (New York: Academic Press, 1977), 386;
Robert Spencer, "Shamanism in Northwestern North America," in ibid., 360.
3. Ibid., 352.
4. Peter Iverson, When Indians Became Cowboys: Native Peoples and Cattle Ranching
in the American West (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1994), 7.
5. Sergei Kan, "Memory Eternal: Orthodox Christianity and the Tlingit Mortuary Complex," Arctic Anthropology 24, no. 1 (1987): 32-55.
6. For detailed analysis of popular Orthodoxy in the Russian north and Siberia, see Marjorie
Mandelsiam Balzer, "Strategies of Ethnic Survival: Interaction of Russians and Khanty
(Ostiak) in Twentieth-Century Siberia" (Ph.D. diss., Bryn Mawr College, 1978), 332-398;
Vera Shevzov, "Popular Orthodoxy in Late Imperial Rural Russia (Orthodox Christianity,
Vologda, Rural Life)" (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1994).
7. Balzer, "Strategies of Ethnic Survival," 410.
8. Galina A. Nosova, Iazychestvo v Pravoslavii (Moskva: Nauka, 1975), 93.
9. Balzer, "Strategies of Ethnic Survival," 408; K. V. Tsekhanskaia, "Osobennosti
Pochitaniia Nekotorikh Sviatikh v Russkoi Narodnoi Traditsii," in Traditsionnie Rituali i
Verovania, ed. Iu. B. Simchenko and V. A. Tishkov (Moskva: Institut Etnologii i Antropologii,
1995), 68.
10. Makarii Glukharev, PismaArkhimandritaMakariia Glukhareva, OsnovateliaAltaiskoi
Missii (Kazan: Tsentralnaia tip., 1905), 29, 33.
11. Nikolai Leskov, On the Edge of the World (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary
Press, 1992), 49.
12. Ann Swindler, "Culture as Action: Symbols and Strategies," American Sociological
Review 5\ (1986): 282.
13.Ibid.
14. Ludmila Kuzmina, "The Effect of the Confessional Factor on Ethnicity," in Shamanism and Northern Ecology, ed. Juha Pentikainen (Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter,
1996), 368.
15. Hannah Breece, A School Teacher in Old Alaska (New York: Random House, 1995),
121, 130.
16. Ibid., 150-151.
17. Sergei Kan, "Introduction," Native Cultures and Christianity in Northern North
America, Special Issue, Arctic Anthropology 24, no. 1 (1987): 5.
Glossary
Abbot. See Igumen.
Ahtna. An Athapaskan-speaking group, whose lands contained copper deposits. Russians called them Mednovtsy, which in a literal translation means "Copper people." The
Ahtna, neighbors of the Dena'ina, were forest hunters of moose and caribou and also fished
salmon on a limited basis. Before 1867, imperial colonization barely touched them. The
Ahtna became involved in intensive relations with the Euroamericans from the 1880s.
Aleuts. Indigenous people of the Eskimo-Aleut language family, who occupy the Aleutian Islands.
Alutiiq (also Sugpiaq). Indigenous people, southern neighbors of the Dena'ina, in old
Russian sources known as the Chugach and Koniag. The Alutiiq are members of the Eskimo-Aleut language family and occupy the Alaska Peninsula, Kodiak Island, the
southeastern part of the Kenai Peninsula, and the coastal areas of Prince William Sound.
Ambarushka. A small storage house in northeastern Siberia, see also Uras.
Antimins. A silken cloth, which depicts the laying of Christ in the tomb and the Four
Evangelists. The antimins is placed on the altar during the Divine Liturgy and is folded up
as soon as the service is finished.
Archbishop. The chief bishop, a church rank that preceded the rank of metropolitan.
Archimandrite. The supervisor of a few monasteries, the highest title among monks. In
Alaska, this term was also applied to clerics responsible for the administrative life of the
mission.
Archpriest. In the Orthodox church a chief priest in a parish.
Athapascans (Athabascans). A group of Native American tribes of the Athapaskan
language family. The Dena'ina were part of this language family. See also Ingalik.
Bidarka. A small skin boat for a few individuals with open hatches; a very light and
highly maneuverable craft used by some natives of the northern Pacific Rim for open sea
hunting. The Aleut bidarka, for example, was twenty-five feet long and had two or three
cockpits and sharp sterns. Russians frequently applied the word bidarka to all native boats,
although they differed from one another.
Balagan. A small storage hut built from handy materials such as wood, skins, and
branches of trees.
Black Clergy (Chernoe Dukhovenstvo). Priests who took monastic vows.
266
Glossary
Buryat. A native Mongolian-speaking group who reside in the vicinity of Lake Baikal,
in southern Siberia.
Caftan. Long tunic with a waist girdle.
Chapel. A small prayer house that has all the attributes of a church except an altar. All
religious services can be performed in a chapel except a liturgy. However, if a movable
antimins is attached to the chapel, it may be used to serve a liturgy.
Charter of Russian-American Company (RAC). The imperial law that regulated commercial activities of the RAC in Alaska and in a few areas of eastern Siberia. At the same
time, this charter was the major document that defined the legal and administrative status of
native Alaskans. Thus, in addition to the rights and obligations of mixed-blood peoples
(Creoles), a renewed charter of 1844 divided indigenous peoples of Russian America into
two groups: settled natives and natives "not completely dependent on colonial authorities."
Dena'ina (Kenaitze) were singled out into the first group, which did not exactly correspond
to their real conditions. It was stipulated that settled natives were to be treated as were the
rest of Russian subjects. Yet, the charter also stressed that they belonged to a special estate
(soslovie), and the RAC was to nominate their leaders, toions. Those natives communities
in the second group united indigenous peoples of inland Alaska along with the Tlingit and
the Ahtna and were treated as independent units. The charter forbade RAC to place "not
completely dependent" natives under its political and administrative control, except when
they asked for this themselves. RAC was also to restrict contacts with these natives to trade
relations. Both settled and not completely dependent groups were relieved of tribute payments.
Chuvantsy (Chuvans). A small (about five hundred persons) highly assimilated Russian-speaking group of hunters and fishermen in the Anadyr Valley, northeastern Siberia.
The Chuvantsy originated from a mixture of a few Yukagir communities with the Even,
Koryaks, and Russian Cossacks. In the eighteenth century during the "Chukchi Wars," the
Chuvantsy joined the Russians against the Chukchi. As a result, the victorious Chukchi
retaliated and displaced many Chuvantsy. At the end of the nineteenth century part of the
Chuvantsy turned to reindeer breeding and were absorbed by the Chukchi and Koryak.
Chugach. Also called Alutiiq, a Pacific Eskimo group, neighbors to the Dena'ina.
Consistory. An administrative center of a diocese.
Cossacks. Free frontiersmen in the Russian southern and eastern borderlands. On the
Siberian frontier the world Cossack also designated military men.
Creole. Not to be confused with the term Creole used in Spanish America to refer to
pure-blooded Spaniards of noble origin. In Siberia and Alaska this word described the
mixed-blood population of native-Russian origin.
Dena'ina. Self-definition of the Tanaina Indians. See also Kenaitze.
Duchina. An administrative division among the nomadic Altaians for the purposes of
tribute collecting. Each duchina united a few kin-related clans.
Duyun. A Dena'ina version of the word Toion.
Even (Lamut). A native group in east-central Siberia. The Even settlements occupied a
large territory that stretched from the Sakha (Yakut) country to Kamchatka. In the nineteenth century their major occupations were reindeer breeding, hunting, and fishing. Although
the Even formally adopted Russian Christianity, they retained a number of indigenous beliefs.
Evenki (Tungus). A native group in north-central Siberia divided into northern and
southern segments. The northerners were hunters and reindeer breeders; the southerners
practiced horse and cattle breeding. By language, they belong to the Tungus group of the
Glossary
267
Manchu-Tungus linguistic family. Although their entire population formally became Russian Orthodox, they maintained numerous shamanistic rituals.
Hiermonk. A monk ordained as a priest; a monk who may perform religious services
as a priest.
Holy Lady Theotokes. Russian and Greek Orthodox name for the Virgin Mary (Mother
of God).
Holy Synod. The council of bishops, the chief administrative department of the Russian Orthodox church. After Peter the Great subordinated Orthodoxy to imperial control in
1721, the Holy Synod was transformed into a branch of the government headed by the
ober-procurator, a secular official who supervised the Orthodox church.
laranga. Chukchi and Koryak nomads' mobile dwelling, covered with skins. The general construction of the iaranga is similar to that of the yurt of the Altaians.
larlikchi. Chief preachers in Burkhanism, the Altaian revitalization movement.
lasak {Yasak). A word of Mongolian origin that meant tribute, usually in furs that
Siberian (until 1910) and Alaskan (until 1799) natives were obliged to pay to the Russian
empire.
lasir. Human tribute of women received by the Russians from native peoples of Siberia as a replacement for fur tribute. During seventeenth-century Russian expansion to Siberia
this term was also applied to all native individuals enslaved or captured by the Russians
during conflicts.
Igumen. A head of a monastery, an abbot. As applied to the missionary enterprise, also
a title of respect.
lngalik. A subarctic Athapaskan-speaking group who reside in the Yukon River basin,
central Alaska, whose major occupation was hunting moose and caribou. They numbered
around five hundred people in the nineteenth century. Neighboring Yupik heavily influenced Ingalik's ceremonial life. At the same time, a strong emphasis on the potlatch give-away
ceremonies pointed to intensive contacts with the cultures of the Northwest. Russians established trade relations with the lngalik during the early nineteenth century.
Inorodtsy. Officially adopted term in the Russian empire for the designation of nomadic and seminomadic native groups of Siberian and the Alaskan borderlands, peoples of
the Caucasus and Central Asia and also the Jews. By the turn of the twentieth century this
term acquired a broad meaning to classify all non-Russians within the empire. There is no
exact equivalent for this word in English. The closest variants would be "of a different kin,"
"of other origin," or "aliens."
Inupiaq. An indigenous group of the Eskimo-Aleut language family occupying northeastern Alaska and the Diomede Islands.
Ispravnik. A district (uezd) police chief in old Russia.
Itelmens (Kamchadals). A Creole, mixed-blood native group in northeastern Siberia.
The Itelments originally occupied much of present-day Kamchatka and practiced fishing,
hunting, and gathering. By the end of the nineteenth century their number had drastically
decreased because of epidemics. Eventually, the Itelmens mixed with the Russians and
neighboring natives. They also lost their language and adopted Russian Orthodoxy.
Kalmuk (Kalmyk). Nineteenth-century Russians frequently applied this term to the
nomadic Altaians, whose life ways reminded them of those of the Kalmuks (Kalmyks), a
Mongolian-speaking nomadic tribe who resided in northwestern Central Asia and were
unrelated to the Altaians.
Kam. An Altaian word for a shaman.
Kamchadals. An old Russian name for the Helmen, a Creole group in northeastern
Siberia. See Itelmens.
268
Glossary
Kenaitze (or Kenais). Russian name for the Dena'ina (Tanaina) Indians derived from
the Alutiiq word Kenaiyut: people of the Kenai River. It is interesting that at the present
time the Dena'ina of the Kenai Peninsula call themselves Kenaitze.
Kumandin. A northern Altaian group with its own dialect. SeerTeleuts, Shors.
Lama. A priest or monk in Lamaism or Tibetan Buddhism.
Lamut. The old Russian name for the Even.
Nivkh. A group of native Siberians from the lower Amur River and Sakhalin Island.
Their language is not related to any known language families. In the nineteenth century
Russians heavily assimilated the Nivkh. This native group reserved a large place in its
religion for bear worship.
Mednovtsy. SteAhtna.
Metropolitan. An honorary rank endowed on bishops and archbishops for outstanding
achievements in church affairs. After the establishment of the Holy Synod usually three
metropolitans were named, in such cities as Kiev, Moscow, and St. Petersburg.
Moleben. A short church service during which the faithful direct their thoughts or
thank Jesus Christ, Lady Theotokes (Virgin Mary), St. Nicholas, and other saints. The closest analogy in Western Christianity is the Roman Catholic Te Deum.
Moshchi. Earthly remains or relics of Orthodox holymen. These remains were revered
as objects that could bring health and prosperity.
Old Believers. Schismatics who cut themselves off from Russian Orthodoxy in the
middle of the seventeenth century. The schism originated from the church reforms introduced by Patriarch Nikon. Old Believers stood against his innovations and defended ancient
Orthodox rites and ways; for example, instead of making the sign of the cross with three
fingers, they continued to do so with two fingers. At first, official Orthodoxy severely persecuted the schismatics, many of whom found escape in the desolated areas of Siberia.
Although formal discrimination against Old Believers never stopped, in the eighteenth century open attacks and suppression subsided.
Ober-Procurator. A secular head of the Russian church. After the government subordinated Orthodoxy to its control, in the rank of secretary this person supervised the Orthodox
church and controlled a department called the Holy Synod, which was staffed with priests
and responsible for administrative affairs of the church.
Os'qala. A Dena'ina term for poor people.
Pashtyks. Native headmen in the northeastern Altai, who were in charge of so-called
volosts, administrative units within a district.
Potlatch. A ritual redistribution of goods practiced by Athapaskans and especially by
Northwest coast tribes of North America (such as the Tlingit and Haida). Individuals who
organized such giveaways sought to raise their prestige and power in the eyes of fellow
tribesmen. Scholars still vigorously debate about the meaning of this ceremony.
Promishlenniki. Independent groups of Russian and Creole fur hunters/fur traders in
the northern Pacific in the eighteenth century. They were frequently united in rival groups
(called artels in Russian). In the nineteenth century in Russian America this term referred to
RAC employees of various occupations, such as farmers, hunters, and carpenters.
Protection by Holy Lady Theotokes. An Orthodox feast (called Pokrov in Russian) that
is celebrated in October. According to an Orthodox legend, in 910, when Constantinople,
the Byzantine capital, was besieged by enemies, people prayed in the city temple asking
God to help them. During the church service Holy Andrei saw a vision of Holy Lady
Theotokes (Virgin Mary), who was floating in the air spreading her protection {pokrov)
over the praying people. Soon the siege of Constantinople was lifted. To commemorate the
Glossary
269
protection provided by Lady Theotokes the Orthodox church established a special feast.
The Orthodox brotherhood organized in Kenai, Alaska, was named after this feast.
Qeshqa. The Dena'ina used this word to define influential and rich people in their
communities. The qeshqa based their authority not so much on accumulating material wealth
as on having regular giveaway parties and taking care of their kin. Dena'ina shamans, headmen, and traders usually arose from the qeshqa ranks.
Religious Procession {Krestnii Khod). In the Orthodox church this is a solemn religious procession around a church or a village performed by a local congregation headed by
a priest. During a procession people usually carry Orthodox banners, crosses, icons, lighted
candles, and other religious artifacts. Such processions could have healing purposes, for
example, driving an epidemic disease from a village.
Revitalization Movement. An organized effort of a native group to restore a cultural
balance disrupted by changes; an attempt to form a new native ideology. Holy people or
prophets provided spiritual guidance to the members of such movements. Though revitalization commonly prophesied the return of the old life and disappearance of invaders,
indirectly it implanted cultural novelties borrowed from Christianity or neighboring tribal
religions.
Ruble. Russian paper and coin money. In the nineteenth century one ruble roughly
corresponded to fifty cents.
Russian American Company (RAQ. Russian fur trade monopoly in the northern Pacific Rim created in 1799 and discontinued in 1867. The RAC exercised full control over
Alaska, Kamchatka, and some other coastal areas of northeastern Siberia. The company
had its own flag and money coupons. The imperial family was one of its major shareholders.
Sakha. Self-definition of the largest native group of east-central Siberia. Until recently
the Sakha have been known in literature as Yakuts. The Sakha (Yakut) language belongs to
the Turkic linguistic family, and it was widely used in intertribal relations of this area. The
Sakha were divided into two groups: the northern tundra segment who practiced hunting,
fishing, and reindeer breeding, and the southern Sakha, whose economy was concentrated
on cattle raising.
Shachil (literally, "sprinkling"). A northern Altaian ritual that was performed in spring
and revolved around a birch tree. Headed by a shaman people gathered at a designated spot,
decorated the tree with ribbons, and sprinkled it with home brewed alcohol. The major goal
of the feast was to bring luck and happiness to a community in a coming year.
Shamanistic Complex. An anthropological metaphor invented in the early twentieth
century to describe indigenous religions in Siberia and North America. This model emphasized that native beliefs of the two regions were centered around shamanism.
Shors. Self-definition: Shor-Kizhi or Abat-Kizhi, meaning "Forest People." A group
of Turkic-speaking tribes in northeastern Altai. Russians often called them Kondoma or
Mrass Tatars. The Shors were originally trappers, hunters, and gatherers. By the 1920s they
became heavily mixed with the Russian population. See also Kumandin, Teleuts.
Spirit House. A style of tomb accepted by Orthodox Dena'ina in the Lower Cook Inlet
area, Alaska. In appearance it is reminiscent of a miniature four-corner house with a Russian Orthodox cross in front. Such tombs are one of the most vivid examples of blending of
Christian and native elements. It is interesting that Upper Inlet Dena'ina do not have "spirit
houses."
St. Nicholas. One of the most revered saints in Russian Orthodoxy. Russian and later
native popular beliefs treated this saint as a people's protector and placed him close to Jesus
Christ.
270
Glossary
Starets. An elder or old monk. In popular Orthodoxy a starets also could be a charismatic religious elder without any formal rank. As such he was revered by members of a
peasant community and stood as a symbol of local religious wisdom.
Starosta. A head of a peasant community, who supervised administrative affairs of his
village. Starostas were integrated into the Russian imperial political system as low-level
village leadership. This word also had a second meaning: a church starosta, a special person
who supervised church or chapel money and sold candles to parishioners.
Statute of Alien Administration in Siberia of ] 822. Major imperial regulation that attempted to establish a legal and administrative system for indigenous peoples of Siberia.
According to this law natives were divided into three groups: sedentary, who lived in permanent villages; nomadic, who changed their residency depending on the season; and
"wandering" people, who constantly moved from one to another place. The first category
was formally equal in status to the Russians. For the two other groups the empire introduced a system of indirect rule, which maintained their traditional tribal administration and
leadership. The major difference was that nomads were obliged to pay tribute along with
local taxes, whereas the "wandering" natives were to deliver only tribute. In addition, the
statute specifically singled out the Chukchi as not completely dependent people, who were
relieved from any duties and fiscal obligations. The statute regulated the Russian native
self-government in Siberia until the turn of the twentieth century.
Tanysh. Informal comradeship between Russian traders and their indigenous agents in
northern Altai. Native agents received merchandise from the traders on credit and sold it to
their fellow tribesmen. Regular gift exchanges and refreshments supported these relations.
Teleut. An Altaian subgroup that occupied a transitional position between the northeastern hunters-gatherers and southwestern pastoral nomads. Many native missionaries in
Altai originated from the Teleut.
Tlingit. A native group in southeastern Alaska. The Tlingits lived in the vicinity of the
Russian American capital, Sitka. Despite persistent attempts of the RAC to subjugate them,
they maintained their political and economic sovereignty until the end of Russian America
in 1867.
Toion. A Sakha word that means "leader." Russians applied this term to define indigenous chiefs and headmen in Alaska and Siberia.
Tofa. Self-definition: Tubalar. A small native group in the Irkutsk region, central Siberia, speaking a Turkic dialect. In the nineteenth century the major occupations of the Tofa
were reindeer breeding, hunting, and trapping.
Tungus. The old Russian name for the Evenki.
Uezd. An administrative-territorial unit in old Russia, equivalent to a district. The uezd
was divided into smaller units called volosts.
Ukaz. An imperial decree or order in old Russia. Also, the word was used in a general
sense in reference to any decree, guidelines, or regular order issued by supreme, local, or
church officials.
Ulgen. A "good" god in the Altai cosmology. Ulgen enjoyed the same amount of
power as his brother, Erlic, the "bad" god, whom Ulgen sent to dive into the cosmic sea to
bring up mud to make the earth.
Uras. A small storage house in northeastern Siberia. See also Ambarushka.
Volost. In old Russia, an administrative-territorial unit, part of the uezd.
White Clergy (Bebe Dukhovenstvo). Regular parish priests who did not take monastic
vows.
Glossary
271
Yukagir. A native group in eastern Siberia, traditionally hunters and fishermen, neighbors of the Chukchi and Koryak. In the nineteenth century they heavily mixed with the
Russians, Sakha, Even, and Chukchi.
Yupik. A group of native peoples in Alaska and the easternmost part of northeastern
Siberia. The Yupik are members of the Eskimo-Aleut language family and consist of two
major groups: the central Alaskan Yupik and the Siberian Yupik.
Yurt (Jourt). A traditional portable dwelling of nomadic Turkic- and Mongolian-speaking
groups, consisting of a cylindrical trunk and lightly arched roof. A wooden framework that
serves as the main structure of the yurt is covered with willow wood, felt mats, or skins. The
yurt is easily folded and transported.
Zaisan. A Mongolian word used by the southern nomadic Altaians for their headmen.
Zakazchik. In Alaska, native headmen who were responsible for the economic wellbeing of communities and maintenance of chapel buildings. By his administrative status,
the zakazchik was second to the toion.
Zasedatel. An elected representative, head of a civil office or a department in old Russia. In Altai and Chukchi country such governmental representatives were also charged to
deal with native people.
Bibliography
ABBREVIATIONS
ARCA The Alaskan Russian Church Archives Records. Washington, DC: Library of Congress.
DRHA Documents Relative to the History of Alaska. Fairbanks, Alaska.
RGIA Rossisskii Gosudarstvennii Istoricheskii Arkhiv (Russian State Historical Archive).
St. Petersburg, Russia.
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Alaska State Historical Library, Juneau, AK.
Archive of the Russian Orthodox Church in Alaska. Juneau: Alaska Division of State
Libraries and Museums, 1975. Microfilm. 11 reels.
Alaska State Historical Library, Juneau, AK.
Vonokouroff Collection. M S 8 1 .
Alaska State Historical Library, Juneau, AK. Manuscript Collection.
Vladimir Vasiliev Stafeev Papers (1869-1895).
American Museum of Natural History, Rare Books and Papers Division, New York City.
Waldemar Jochelson Papers. "Kamchadal Materials, 1909-1919."
Library of Congress. Washington, DC.
The Alaskan Russian Church Archives Records, 1733-1938. Washington, DC: Library
of Congress Photoduplication Service, 1984. Microfilm. 376 reels.
Russian State Historical Archive, St. Petersburg, Russia.
Fond Sviashchennogo Sinoda, Fond 796.
Zemskii Otdel Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Del, Fond 1291.
Departament Politsii, Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Del, Fond 1286.
Kantseliariia Ministerstva Zemledeliia, Fond 381.
Departament Obshchikh Del, Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Del, Fond 1284.
Fond Tolstykh, Fond 696.
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Documents Relative<to the History of Alaska. Fairbanks, AK: Alaska History Project,
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DISSERTATIONS AND THESES

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Index
Ahtna, 100, 108; baptism of, 110;
requests for Orthodox missionaries, 126
ail, 23. See also ulus
Alaska Commercial Company
(ACC), 100-101, 115
Alaska Orthodox mission: conditions
of (1918), 65; establishment of,
57; and Chukchi 168; as part of
Siberian/Alaskan see, 61; as separate see (1870), 61
Alazesk (Sen-Kel), 167
Aleuts, 62, 161; missionary view of,
70-71
Alexander II, 60
Altai, incorporation into Russian
empire of, 22; and Russian agricultural colonization, 200-204
Altaians: and abrogation of indirect
rule, 204; economy and social life
of, 22-23; definition of, 21;
northeastern and southwestern
groups of, 22-23; incorporation into
the Russian empire of, 22, 197;
Mongolian influences on, 35;
number of, 21 ; responses to
missionary advance, 205; Russian
indirect rule over, 198
Altaians (sedentary groups), 199
200; and attitude toward Orthodoxy,
208, 258; missionary view of, 70.
Altaians (nomads), 200-204; and

Buddhist-Lamaist tradition, 208;
and heathen schools, 207-208; and
Orthodoxy, 206-207, 258; missionary view of, 70
Altai-Kizhi, 21
Altai Orthodox Mission, 204; and
education of native people, 216;
and material help to newly baptized
natives, 213-214; medical help to
natives and conversion, 222; and
native clergy, 216-217; nomination
of native leaders in northeaster Altai,
211-212; and establishment of special villages for Orthodox natives,
208
Alutiiq, 161
Amphilokhy (Anton Vakulsky), 53,
61, 154, 158, 175; record of
missionary work among Chukchi,
169
Amrawurgin, Afanasii, 167
Amrawurgin, Andrei Nikolaevich,
156, 166, 173
Amrawurgin, Nikolai, 153, 173; gold
medal award to, 156
Anadyr fort, 141
Anui, 146-147, 165
Anui fair, 149-150; decline of, 154;
description of, 151
300
Argentov, Andrei, 33, 52, 54, 148;
encounter with Tnepo, Chukchi
shaman, 158; encounter with Ulevek, Chukchi headman, 172; on
differences in status between
maritime and nomadic Chukchi,
148; paternalistic attitude toward
native Siberians, 79; on prospects
of missionary work among Chukchi,
159; record of missionary work
among Chukchi, 55, 164; view of
native life and landscapes, 75
Athabaskans, 16
Bel'kov, Zakhar, 62
Bering, Vitus, 141
Bidara artel, 19-20
Black Tatars, 21. See also Altaians
Boas, Franz, 24
Bogoras, Waldemar (Vladimir), 24
Bortnovsky, Ioann, 100-101, 110-111,
115, 118; attempt to retrieve a
runaway wife for an Orthodox
Dena'ina, 121; description of
brotherhood meeting in Kenai, 125;
and nomination of Dena'ina lay
leaders for church awards, 116-117;
and promotion of Dena'ina lay
leaders, 119
Burkhan (White Burkhan), 229;
definition of, 231-232, 234; as
supreme deity in Burkhanism, 231
Burkhanism: assessment of (Russian
and Soviet scholars), 236-237; and
Orthodoxy, 239; rituals and basic
tenets of, 230-232; and shamanism,
229-230, 232, 234, 237; suppression
of, 232. See also Chelpan, Chet
Buryat, 64
"By-Laws of Ecclesiastical
Consistories" (1841), 63
Catherine the Great, 51; 1773 Edict of
Toleration, 57; and negligence of
missionary work, 4; and relations
with Chukchi, 148
Chelkans, 21. See also Altaians
Chelpan, Chet, 228; denouncement of
animal sacrifices by, 237; and vision
Index
of Oirot Khan, 229. See also Oirot
Khan
Chevalkov, Mikhail, 52, 62, 260;
biography of, 210-211, 217; and
missionary work among Shors and
Teleuts, 222
Chukchi: band rituals and status of
shamans, 177; and "family shamanism," 34; and epidemics, 158; and
famine conditions, 145; intermarriages with Russians, Creoles, and
Americans, 141-144; and kelet (evil
spirits), 34; and marginal presence of
Orthodox Christianity, 175-177;
number of, 18; political system of,
19; population increase, 146; rise of
reindeer economy of, 18; and
Stolypin administrative reform, 157;
self-sufficiency of, 142; sovereignty,
148-158; superficial control of
Russian empire over, 141; and
tribute payment, 148-149, \5\.See
also Statute of Alien Administration
in Siberia
Chukchi (maritime dwellers), 20, 140,
142, 147, 149; as agents of American
merchants, 154; shift to American
trade, 153; as trade mediators
between Alaska and Siberia, 150
Chukchi (nomads), 18-19, 146-147;
assimilation of maritime dwellers
by, 20-21 ; and attitudes to spirits of
pasturelands, 27; and expansion to
new pasturelands, 19, 144-145, 153;
help to Yukagir, Evenki, and
Chuvantsy, 147; and reindeer
epidemics, 144; Russians' and
Creoles' dependence on, 142-143,
146
"Chukchi fear," 149
"Chukchi presents," 151; increase of,
154. See Maydell, Gerhard von
"Chukchi Wars," 148
Chuvantsy, assimilation by Chukchi,
21
Colonialism, model of, 4-5, 7

Czaplicka, Marie Antoinette, 176
301
Index
Dena'ina: adaptability, 17, 105; and
attitude to Bible stories, 127; and
attitude toward church singing, 125;
and Orthodox parochial schools,
117; and chapel construction
(1870s-1890s), 110; economy of,
16; and epidemic diseases and
upsurge of missionary activities,
102, 104, 106; frequency of missionary visits to, 118; number of,
16; and relations with Russians, 9 6 98; as mediators between Russians
and inland Athapaskans, 98; and
mining, canneries, and railroad
projects, 101; population fluctuations and intermarriages with Creoles and Euroamericans, 104; and
potlatch, 123; request for chapel
readers from, 126; and Russian
Orthodox brotherhoods, 112-114;
and survival of shamanism, 120121; and vaccination campaign,
107; use of Orthodoxy by, 126, 2 5 9 260
"Desert tradition," as myth, 51. See
also Monks; Dionisii
De Valmond, Sophia, 213-214. See
also Altai Orthodox Mission
Dionisii, Bishop, 49, 172; critique of
Russification of native cultures, 67;
and use of medical aid in missionary
work, 72; paternalistic attitude
toward native peoples, 80; on
Chukchi mission, 166
Dioszegi, V., 31. See also Tofa
Dzhungaria, 35, 208
Dzungarian Federation, 197; religious
persecution of southern Altaians by,
205
EVegen, 32. See also Shamanism
Eliade, Mircea, on shamanism, 30;
Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of
Ecstacy, 29
Elombal (Anuisk), 167, 171
Elonskii, N., and methods of
missionary work, 72
E'nen, 172. See also Chukchi
Ene'nilin, 172. See also Chukchi
Erlic, 26, 33, 35, 215; and Burkhanism,

232
Ermichin, 19. See also Chukchi
Ethnohistory scholarship, on native
search for medicine power, 27; on
missionaries, 6-7
Evanoff, Zachar, assistant to a
churchwarden, 116; as Dena'ina
Orthodox lay leader, 115, 261 ;
sermon by, 119
Eyak, 55
Fialkin, Vladimir, and goals of
missionary work, 71
Gizhiga village, 146, 167
Glukharev, Makarii, 52, 55, 208, 213;
assessment of (current Russian
scholars), 195; and Chevalkov, 210;
and religious education of Russian
peasants, 255; and gender issues in
missionary work, 214; as head of the
Altai Orthodox Mission, 205; humility and asceticism of, 50; influence
of Enlightenment ideas on, 59; on
missionary methods, 71, 256; and
translation of religious texts into
native languages, 63; material help
to poor natives, 213; view of medical
performances as part of missionary
work, 72, 215
Great Flood story, and Shor mythology,
223
Gurii, Bishop of Samara, and goals of
missionary work, 65
Gusev, Alexander, 77
Haida, 29
Holy Synod, 4, 56, 61, 63, 81, 166,
205; and incorporation of Chukchi
mission into Alaska diocese, 168; on
missionaries as social workers, 72;
on necessity of ordain native clergy,
62; and permission to conduct
liturgy in Altaian and ordain native
priests, 216; and recruitment of
monks for missions, 52; and regular
smallpox vaccinations of natives, 73;
and the Alaska Orthodox mission, 59
302
Hultkrantz, Ake, 24, 27; and phenomenological approach (religious
studies), 29. See also Shamanism
Humphrey, Caroline, 30.
Iarangas, 18. See also Chukchi
larlikchi, 234; songs of, 236. See also
Burkhanism
Iaroshevich, Alexander, 102, 117-118;
and Dena'ina shamans, 120; and conflict with ACC, 110
lasak, 148 '

lasir ("human tribute"), 141
Icons, adjustment to native tradition
of (Altai), 221, 226
Iliamna trading post, 97; and Savva
Richteroff, 118
Iliamna village, 105,107,118; chapel in,
111 ; a chapel reader for, 116; and
Richteroff brothers, 118-119
Ilminskii, Nikolai, 63-64; debates with
Veniamin, 66
Ilminskii System, 64; support from Holy
Synod for, 81
Indigenous beliefs: and adaptation of
Christianity through dreams (Altai),
224-227; animism of, 26; distinction
from Western religions, 25; holistic approach in, 24, 253; missionary view
of, 76-77; and native economy as "sacred occupation," 26; religio-ecological view of (Hultkrantz), 24; and
search for medicine power, 27, 36;
and similarities between native Alaska
and Siberia, 24, 29; Anthropology of
Power, 36
Inuit, 55; assimilation by Chukchi, 21
"Invention of ethnicity," a concept of, 8
Itelmens, 62, 97, 141
Ivanovski, Sergei, 76
Jochelson, Waldemar (Vladimir), 24
Kalifornskoe village, 116
Kalifornsky, Aleksei, 116
Kallinikov, N. F , 19
"Kalmuk habitats," 201, 203, 217
Kalmuks, 22. See also Altaians (nomads),
206
Index
Kamchatka, 140-141,145-146, 149,162
Kamchatka Missionary Congress, 175
Katun River, 21
Kazak, 207
Kemerovo, 21
Kenai Holy Protection Brotherhood, 112,
121
Kenai village, number of Orthodox residents (1893) in, 130; and petition
to Judge Warren Truitt, 102
Khitrov, Dmitri, 54-55, credit to native
tradition of mutual help, 70
Khotto, Dmitri, 153, 165
Khotuntsevski, Joseph, 57
Kijik village, 104, 107, 125; chapel in,
111
Knik village, 100, 116; chapel in, 110;
expansion of missionary work to, 110;
number of Orthodox residents in, 130;
as supply point for prospectors, 101
Kodiak Island, 57
Kollegov, Mikhail, 62
Kolmakovsky Redoubt, 55
Kolomin, Petr, 96
Kolyma River, 21
Kondoma River, 21
Koryak, 79, 96, 141; missionary view
of, 73-74; sedentary groups of, 145
Kumandins, 21, 34-35, 197, 209; population growth of, 198
Kuskokwim River, 55
Kustatan Bear Story, 95
Kustatan village, 95, 102, 108, 116; and
Orthodox brotherhood, 113; chapel in,
111 ; number of Orthodox residents in,
130
Kuznetsk, 199,209
Lamaism, 35, 60, 193, 204-205, 208;
and Burkhanism, 231, 238; as challenge to Orthodoxy (Altai), 239. See
also Lamas', Burkhanism
Lamas, 208
Landyshev, Stefan, 61, 206; and material help to poor natives, 213; and Orthodox villages for Altaians, 208
Leshchinskii, Philotheus, 56
Loginov, Nikolai, 62
Lowie, Robert, 24
Index
Maimalars, 21
Marchenkov, Nikita, 68; work among
Dena'ina, 108-109; view of Dena'ina
life, 73; and Dena'ina shamans, 78
Maydell, Gerhard von, 144; and Chukchi
administration, 156; and "Chukchi
presents," 151 ; and introduction of free
trade with Chukchi, 150
Micmac, 28
"Middle ground" concept of (Richard
White), 139
Missionaries: in Altai (assessments of Soviet and Russian authors ), 193-197;
and ambivalent approach toward native customs, 256; and Dena'ina marriage practice, 121; and medical help
to Altaian natives, 214-215; and Orthodox ascetic behavior, 255; upsurge
in activities of (1820s-1830s), 58-59
Missionary Institute in Kazan, 51; curricula of, 60, 63
Missionary Instructions (Veniaminov),
59, 256. See also Veniaminov, Ivan
Mitropolsky, Nikolai, 71 ; and expansion
of missionary work among Dena'ina,
110; paternalistic attitude toward
Dena'ina, 79
Modestov, Vladimir, 105; election of
Dena'ina reader, 116; and Orthodox
education of Dena'ina, 125
Mongolia, 35, 197,232
Mongols, influence on Altaian beliefs, 26
Monks, as missionaries, 51-52; of
Valaam monastery, 48-49, 57.
Moshchi (relics of the Orthodox holymen), and Altaian beliefs, 221
Mrass River, 21
Murativskii, Martinian (Bishop), and
goals of missionary work, 65
Nestor, 28,51-52; and conditions of missionary work in Siberia, 53; on missionary tasks and goals in eastern Siberia, 66,72; description of native life
by, 73-74; paternalistic attitude toward
native Siberians, 79; on Russians and
Creoles in Siberia, 176
Netsvetov, Iakov, 62-63
303
Neverov, Ioann, 147; as acting Chukchi
missionary, 166; and Chukchi's attitude toward Christianity, 173
New Knik (Eklutna), 118; chapel in,
110-111; and "spirit houses," 123
"New Valaam" (Spruce Island), 50, 68.
See also St. Herman
Nicholas, Abbot (Nikolai Militov), 55;
biography and attitudes toward natives,
67-68, 79; conflicts and debates with
Dena'ina shamans, 108; as first missionary to Dena'ina, 106-108; and
smallpox vaccination of Dena'ina, 107
Nicholas I, and Chukchi, 162; and intensification of missionary work, 57-58
Nicholas II, 157
Nizhne-Kolymsk, 141, 144, 146, 157158, 162, 165-167; famine in, 147;
trade fair in, 151
Noah (Nam or Iaik-Khan), as Shor saint,
223
Nondalton, 104, 115, 126
Odag, 23. See also Altaians.
Official nationality, theory of, 57-58
Oirot Khan, 197, 236; and Christ, 239;
as symbol of common origin for
Altaians, 237
Old Believers, 201; as challenge to Orthodoxy in Altai, 239, 259
Old Church Slavonic, 127
Orlov, John, 62
Osgood, Cornelius, 5, 125; in search of
"pure" Dena'ina religion, 127
Os'qala, 17. See also Dena'ina
Ostiaks (Khanty), 56
Ottigashev, Gavriil, and native clergy in
Altai, 216
Pan-Slavism 64
Pashtyks, 23, 196, 204; and Altaian missionaries, 211-212
Paternalism, in missionary work, 78-80
Pawnee, 29
Petelin, Mikhail I., 28,54,62, 172; view
of Chukchi attitude toward Christianity, 173; record of missionary work
among Chukchi, 168
304
Peter the Great, and Christianization of
native Siberia, 55-56
Pobedonostsev, Konstantyn, 63-64
Promishlenniki, 96-97, 140; as carriers
of popular Orthodoxy, 255
Qeshka, 17, 33; and Dena'ina Orthodox
leadership, 115; as mediators, 100
Radlov, Vladimir (Radioff, Wilhelm),
200, 205-206, 208; encounter with
an Altaian shaman, 209; on Shors, 21;
on status of Orthodoxy in Altai, 217
"A Reference Book for Our Siberian Missionaries," 78
Revitalization movement, model of (Anthony Wallace), 236-237
Richteroff, Ignatius, 116
Richteroff, Mikhail, 118; as lay Orthodox leader in Iliamna, 119, 125
Richteroff, Old William, 118
Richteroff, Savva, 118
Russian-American Company (RAC), 3,
57; and Chukchi, 150; and missionary
work, 58, 256; and relations with
Dena'ina, 97; renewed charter of, 58;
trading post on the Anadyr River, 150
Russian Bible Society, 160
Russian Missionary Society (RMS), 166;
and the Altai Orthodox Mission, 213;
budget of, 60
"Russian Thebaid," 49
Russification, 63, 81; ambivalent approach to (missionaries and government), 64-67, 256; support of (Archbishop Veniamin), 64-65. See also
Veniamin, Archbishop
Saami, 48
Sakha, 177. See also Yakut
Sarichev, Gavriil, 19
Sarov Desert, 51
Seldovia village: alcohol abuse in, 102;
attitude toward Orthodox parochial
school, 117; elections of leadership in,
116; knowledge of Russian in, 117;
number of Orthodox in, 130; social
and economic conditions in, 101. See
also Dena'ina
Index
Seok, 23. See also Altaians
Shadura, Paul, 104; frequency of visits
to Dena'ina villages, 118; on survival
of shamanism among Dena'ina, 121
Shamanic calls, reinterpretation of, 226
Shamanism, 29-36; in Altai, 34-35;
Bogoras on, 29-30; among Chukchi,
33-34; current anthropological scholarship on, 31 ; decline of (Altaian nomads), 228; among Dena'ina, 33;
Hultkrantz on, 29; in life of Russian
and Creole population (northeastern
Siberia), 175-176; missionary view of,
28,76,78; place in indigenous beliefs,
30; Potapov on, 30, 192. See also
Burkhanism; Chukchi; Indigenous religions; Shirokogoroff, Sergei;
Vdovin, Innokentii
"Shamanistic complex," 29
Shamans: appeals to Christian saints from
(Altai), 223-224; basic functions of
(Schlesier), 31; and holy fools, 255;
initiation, 32-33; and resistance to
Lamaism in southern Altai, 205; status of, 32,254; and shift to Orthodoxy
(Altai), 227. See also Kazak; Radlov;
Nam
Shelikhov, Gregory, 57
Shipitsin, Mitrofan, 161
Shirokogoroff, Sergei, on Siberian shamanism, 30-32
Shishkin, Vasilii, 104-105; and religious
procession in Iliamna, 123; record of
work among Dena'ina, 109
Shors, 198-199,209,211-212; and attitude toward Christian saints, 222,238;
and legend about the Great Flood, 223;
Shachil ceremony among, 220; status
of Orthodoxy among, 217-218
Shtigashev, Ioann M., and native clergy
in Altai, 216
Siberian Missionary Congress (1910),
66, 175
Sleptsov, Grigorii, 62, 161 ; and Valetka,
Chukchi elder, 162
Speck, Frank, 26
Speransky, Mikhail, 58, 150, 196
Speransky project. See Statute of Alien
Administration in Siberia
Index
"Spirit houses," 123. See also New Knik.
St. Herman, 50
St. Nicholas, in Russian popular Orthodoxy, 238, 255
St. Nicholas Fort (Kenai), 97
St. Nicholas Temperance Society, 113114
St. Paul, 49
St. Stephen of Perm (1340-1396), 63,69
Statute of Alien Administration in Siberia (1822), 58,201,206; and Altaians,
198; and methods of missionary work,
58, 256; and status of Chukchi, 148149
Susitna, 121; number of Orthodox residents in, 130
Suvorov, Petr, 145-147,160,162; record
of missionary work among Chukchi,
165; view of Chukchi attitude toward
Christianity, 173.
Tanysh, 200. See also Altaians (sedentary groups)
Telengits, 21 ; escape to Mongolia of,
235. See Altaians (nomads)
Teleuts, 21, 62, 199-200, 210-212; as
cultural brokers, 217; status of Orthodoxy among, 218
Theophilus, Hiermonk, 107
Tlingits, 55, 70; interactions with Russian Orthodoxy, 106,255; portrayal of
(Russian missionaries), 71
Tofa,31
Tom River, 21
Trans-Siberian Railroad, 203
Trifonov, Alexander, 162; record of missionary work among Chukchi, 163
Tubalars, 21. See Altaians
Tyonek village, 100, 121; alcohol abuse
in, 102; chapel in, 111 ; number of Orthodox residents in, 130; as supply
point for prospectors, 101. See also
Dena'ina
Ulgen, 26-27; in Burkhanism, 232; in
Great Flood story, 223
Valaam Monastery, 48-49. See also
Monks
305
Vdovin, Innokentii, on Chukchi encouners with missionaries, 176; on Chukchi
shamanism, 34
Venedict (Viacheslav Bokterev), on
Chukchi's approach to Orthodoxy,
171 ; as zealous missionary to Chukchi,
53-54, 168
Veniamin, Archbishop, and polemic with
Ilminskii, 66; and Russification of
native Siberians, 64-65. See also
Russification
Veniaminov, Ivan (St. Innocent), 52, 54,
166; credit to native tradition of mutual help, 70; and dismissal of gifts as
tools of conversion, 161, 163; influence of Enlightenment ideas on, 59;
and methods of missionary work, 256;
and mixed-blood clergy, 62; and paternalistic approach toward native
peoples, 80; on prospects of missionary work among Chukchi, 159, 162
163; and Russian Missionary Society,
60; service in Alaska and Siberia, 61;
and translation of religious texts into
native languages, 63
Verbitskii, Vasilii, 21-22, 26-28, 199,
205, 208-209; background and attitude toward natives, 68; as head of
Kuznetsk branch of the Altai Orthodox Mission, 209; view of missionary
work, 54; on connection between
medical performances and conversion,
215; on mental development of the
Altaians, 74-75; and missionary methods, 71, 220; and native leaders in
northeastern Altai, 212; 221 ; and stress
on ritual side of Orthodoxy in mission
ary work, 218; view of Altaian customs, 70
Vereshchagin, Roman, 162, 164; and
gifts to Chukchi converts, 163
Western Fur and Trading Company
(WFTC), 100; going out of business,
101
White, Richard, 139. See also "Middle
ground," concept of
Wrangell, Ferdinand P., 98
306
Yatargin, Andrei, 149, 162; attitude toward Orthodoxy of, 173-174
Yukagir, 146; famine among, 147
Yakut, 147. See Sakha
Yupik, 28, 63, 149, 177; Chukchi trade
with, 150; and Dena'ina, 17
Yurok, 29
Yurt, 23. See also Odag
Zakazchiks, 114-115; and Orthodox
oath, 116. See also Dena'ina
Zaisans, 198, 204; as agents of Russian
indirect rule, 206. See also Altaians
(nomads)
Index
About the Author

ANDREI A. ZNAMENSKI is Assistant Professor of History in the Department of
Humanities at Alabama State University. His current research focuses on the history of native peoples of Siberia and Alaska. His publications include articles in
Alaska History, American Indian Culture and Research Journal, Russian Review, European Studies Journal, Social Sciences, and ITINERARIO.

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SHAMANISM

Contributions to the Study of World History, Number 70

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Indigenous Landscapes in Siberia and Alaska

Missionary Landscapes in Siberia and Alaska

Orthodoxy Becomes a Native Faith: Dena'ina

"Unresponsive Natives": Chukchi Dialogues with

Dialogues about Spirit and Power: Altaian Natives and

List of Illustrations and Maps

List of Illustrations and Maps

Figure 4.6 Russian Orthodox church in the village of Markovo,

types of useful experiences with neighboring tribes or the Europeans could be

My analysis does not reduce native-missionary relationships to a single pattern.

these scholars exaggerate the destruction of a native ability to survive within a

Those works that address native-Russian missionaries' encounters in Siberia

depending on the given situation. In areas where indigenous communities had no

An exploration of the native societies that confronted Russian missionaries helps