Adygea and the Kuban (Psyzh): Historical Land of the Circassians and a Strategic Hub of the Caucasus

When we speak of historical Circassia, we cannot limit ourselves to Kabardino-Balkaria, Karachay-Cherkessia, the Stavropol Territory, or the Mozdok district of North Ossetia. Without Adygea and the present-day Krasnodar Territory, the map of Circassian memory, politics, and strategy remains incomplete. It was precisely here that a significant part of Western Circassia was located — the lands of the Shapsugs, Natukhais, Abzakhs, Bzhedugs, Temirgoys, Hatukays, Mahoshes, Yegerukays, Mamkhegs, Ubykhs, and other Adyghe societies. This is not merely a “pretty historical reference” — this is a land where our people lived for centuries, traded, built their social institutions, buried their ancestors, and defended mountain gorges, valleys, rivers, and access to the sea.

In the previous article, we discussed Black Sea Circassia as an important maritime dimension of the people. But the coast cannot be understood in isolation from the Kuban (Psyzh) and Adygea: the sea, plains, foothills, and auls constituted a single historical fabric of Western Circassia, which was later torn apart by war, exile, and administrative redrawing.

Today, these territories are of immense importance not only for the Circassians themselves, but for the entire Caucasus. The Krasnodar Territory represents ports, grain, the sea, transit, tourism, and links to Crimea, Abkhazia, and the entire southern direction. Adygea is the preserved, albeit small, political-administrative remnant of the Western Circassian presence in the Caucasus. Together, these lands form a strategic hub without which it is impossible to understand either the history of the Russian-Caucasian War, the current geopolitics of Southern Russia, or the future opportunities of the Circassian people.

Historical Land Turned Demographically Alien

Prior to the final phase of the Russian-Caucasian War, Western Adyghes occupied vast expanses of the Northwestern Caucasus. The Natukhais were connected with the areas of Anapa, Taman, Novorossiysk (Tsemes), and Tsemes Bay. The Shapsugs lived on the northern and southern slopes of the Western Caucasus, including the areas of present-day Tuapse, Lazarevskoye, and Sochi. The Ubykhs occupied the Black Sea coast in the area of present-day Sochi, Khosta, and Shakhe.

The Abzakhs were connected with the mountain-forest zone, the basins of the Belaya, Pshekha, Kurdzhips, and Pshish rivers. The Bzhedugs lived on the left bank of the Kuban, in the area of the Afips, Psekups, and the lower reaches of the Kuban. The territory of Zhaney encompassed the entire Eastern Azov region: from the Taman Peninsula in the south to the very mouth of the Don — Ten — in the north. The Temirgoys, Hatukays, Mahoshes, Yegerukays, and Mamkhegs inhabited the interior plain and foothill regions of Western Circassia.

This world had its own leaders, its own mechanisms of self-organization, its heroes, and its tragedies. Sefer-bey Zanoko is linked with the diplomatic and military struggle of the Western Circassians. Kizbech Tuguzhuko became one of the symbols of Shapsug resistance. Muhammad-Amin attempted to give the resistance of Western Circassians a more centralized religious and political form. Gerandyko Berzek is associated with the Ubykh line of resistance.

Yet, despite all the strength of their warrior culture, high degree of self-organization, distinct political system with centuries-old diplomatic traditions, and highly professional warriors, the Circassians faced a vastly superior imperial machine — with its army, logistics, resettlement policy, and administrative apparatus.

Despite the century-long struggle of the Circassians for their freedom and independence, the finale of this war is well known. After 1864, a significant portion of the Circassians was expelled to the Ottoman Empire. Many perished from starvation, disease, cold, overcrowding in ports, maritime disasters, and the harsh conditions of resettlement. It was not merely a military defeat — it was a demographic, social, and civilizational collapse. The people were uprooted from their land, and the land was reformatted without them.

That is precisely why the current situation of Circassians in Adygea and the Krasnodar Territory cannot be viewed as the ordinary result of “historical migration.” Circassians did not simply become a minority — they became a minority on a land where before the war they were the indigenous, politically, demographically, culturally, and historically significant population, the masters of their own land.

This is the moral trauma: when a people not only loses its people, but also finds itself forced to prove its right to the memory of its own homeland. It is precisely in this position that we find ourselves today.

Adygea: A Republic with an Adyghe Name, but Without an Adyghe Majority

The modern Republic of Adygea is the most important symbolic and political remnant of the Western Circassian presence. Yet its position is contradictory. Formally, it is a republic with an Adyghe name, flag, language, and historical legitimacy. In reality, however, Circassians do not constitute a majority in it.

According to the 2020 census, about 497,000 people lived in Adygea. Russians numbered around 288,000, and Circassians about 116,000. That is, the titular nation remains a minority. This is the main nerve of the problem. The republic exists, but its Circassian demographic base is not strong enough.

The Russian-speaking majority persists, the Krasnodar agglomeration puts pressure on the north of Adygea, suburban zones are expanding, migration is intensifying, and Circassian auls and the language are experiencing pressure from urban centers, the market, and assimilation.

Particularly important are the Takhtamukaysky, Teuchezhsky, Shovgenovsky, Koshekhablsky, Krasnogvardeysky, and other districts where the Circassian social fabric is preserved. But a rural base alone is no longer enough. If the Adyghe language and identity remain confined solely to the auls, while the city becomes entirely Russian-speaking, the republic will gradually retain an ethnographic shell but lose its living national content.

The problem is not that Russians as individuals are enemies of the Adyghes. Such a framing would be morally wrong and politically suicidal. The problem lies elsewhere: if an indigenous people lacks demographic, linguistic, economic, and institutional resilience, it gradually turns into a symbol within someone else’s socio-economic reality.

By virtue of demographic circumstances alone, Adygea is destined to be a multi-ethnic republic, but the Circassian core must remain a clearly recognized historical foundation, and we are obligated to defend this position and prevent its dilution.

Krasnodar Territory: The Heart of Lost Western Circassia

The Krasnodar Territory is perceived today in the Russian mass consciousness as the “Kuban,” the “breadbasket of Russia,” a resort region, and the country’s Black Sea facade. But for Circassians, it is also a vast part of historical Circassia. It is precisely here that the lands of the Natukhais, Shapsugs, Ubykhs, parts of the Abzakhs, Bzhedugs, and other Circassian societies are located.

Today, within the multi-million population of the territory, very few Circassians remain. According to modern data, Circassians in the Krasnodar Territory number only small tens of thousands, dissolved in a vast Russian and Russian-speaking majority. This is one of the most painful outcomes of the 19th century: the land remains, memory remains, toponyms in places remain, but of the multi-million nation across a vast part of this land, almost no one is left. It remains in exile and scattered across dozens of countries worldwide.

Of particular importance are the Circassian auls of the Krasnodar Territory. On the Black Sea coast, these are primarily the Shapsug settlements of the Tuapse district and the Lazarevskoye district of Sochi: Aguy-Shapsug, Bolshoye Pseushkho, Maloye Pseushkho, Psebe, Khadzhiko, Kalezh, Lygotkh, Nadzhigo, Bolshoy Kichmay, Maly Kichmay, Tkhagapsh, Shkhafit, and others.

In the eastern part of the territory, Konokovsky and Kurgokovsky are important, associated with the Besleney-Adyghe presence. There is also the Cherkesogai (Circassian Armenian) community in the Armavir area.

These auls are not merely “remnants of the past”; they are living points of historical right. If they disappear demographically and linguistically, the Circassians’ connection with the Black Sea region will become almost museum-like. Therefore, the Shapsug question should not be a local problem of several auls, but a pan-Circassian issue.

As stated in the article on Black Sea Circassia, the Shapsugs today are not only a small ethnographic group, but also the last living bridge connecting Circassians to the Black Sea.

In the 20th century, the Shapsugs already had a limited form of administrative recognition: the Shapsug National District existed in 1924–1945. Its abolition became one of the symbols of the administrative dissolution of the Circassian presence on the coast.

Today, Shapsugs are formally recognized as an indigenous small-numbered people of the Black Sea coast, but this is insufficient without genuine protection of land, language, traditional nature management, school education, cultural infrastructure, and political representation. Circassians still have much to do to protect their interests in this vital region of Circassia.

Economy and Strategy: Why This Land Matters to the Entire Caucasus

The Krasnodar Territory is one of Russia’s key economic regions. It is a major agricultural base, with powerful food industries, ports, grain exports, viticulture, rice, sugar beet, sunflower, horticulture, resorts, and transport corridors. Novorossiysk (Tsemes), Taman, Tuapse, Kavkaz, Temryuk, Yeysk, Sochi — these are not simply geographical names. They are nodes of trade, logistics, military strategy, and foreign policy.

For Russia, control over the Kuban and the Black Sea coast of Circassia means control over the southern maritime exit, grain exports, and links to Crimea, Abkhazia, and the Caucasus. For the Caucasus, the significance of this territory is even broader: the North Caucasus without access to the sea remains an internal, locked, dependent space.

Historical Circassia, especially its western part, was not only a mountainous and foothill land, but also the Black Sea window of the Caucasus.

That is why the memory of the Circassian Black Sea coast has not only emotional, but also strategic importance. A people that has lost access to the sea loses not just a piece of land. It loses communicative depth, economic opportunities, external connections, symbolic horizons, and geopolitical weight. This is why we often remind our readers of the importance of these territories for our people.

Adygea plays a different yet equally crucial role in this system. It has no access to the sea, is entirely surrounded by the Krasnodar Territory, and is cut off from the KBR and KCR. Yet it preserves the state-administrative form of Circassian presence in the west of the Caucasus. It is a foothill, cultural, agrarian, and tourist hub. Its weakness is its enclaved nature. Its strength is its very existence.

In the next article, this logic will be examined at the Central Caucasian level — through the KBR, KCR, Pyatigorye, Mozdok, and the routes to the Daryal Gorge.

Why Adygea Became Cut Off

The isolation of Adygea from the Black Sea coast, the KBR, and the KCR was no coincidence. It resulted from war, exile, resettlement policy, and Soviet ethno-territorial demarcation.

The Adyghe Autonomy was created not as a restoration of historical Circassia, but as a limited administrative form around a fraction of the surviving Adyghe population. The coastline remained within the Krasnodar Territory. Shapsug lands were not included in Adygea. Natukhai and Ubykh lands were effectively lost demographically. Circassians of the KBR and Circassians of the KCR found themselves locked within their respective republics. The diaspora was scattered across Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Israel, Europe, and other countries.

Thus, a single nation found itself divided into several administrative compartments: Adygea, the KBR, the KCR, the Shapsugs of the Krasnodar Territory, and a massive foreign diaspora. Culturally, it is one Circassian world. Politically and administratively, it is a fragmented space.

Is there any realistic possibility today of uniting these territories? Under current conditions, almost none. The federal center will view any territorial unification projects as a political risk.

Yet this does not mean that nothing can be done. If territories cannot be quickly united geographically, the people must be united functionally: through language, media, education, archives, analytical research, economic ties, student exchanges, repatriation programs, legal protection of auls, shared maps of memory, and a common strategic agenda.

Pressure, Disregard, and the Struggle for Visibility

The situation of the Adyghes in Adygea and the Krasnodar Territory is complicated not only by demography, but also by memory politics. The Circassian issue is often perceived by the authorities as inconvenient: it is tolerated in ritual form, but feared in political form.

The Memorial Day of May 21 can be observed, but attempts to speak about genocide, repatriation, Shapsug rights, the Sochi Olympics, or the historical status of the Black Sea coast often encounter pressure, disregard, or administrative containment.

The Sochi Olympics was a particularly painful episode. For the world, it was a celebration of sport. For us, the Circassians, it was an event held on the land where the Russian-Caucasian War ended and where the memory sites of an exiled people lie.

On the eve of the Olympics, our activists did not demand the impossible: they wanted the Circassian element to be recognized in the cultural program, and for the region’s history not to be presented as though no indigenous people had lived here prior to imperial conquest. Unfortunately, the Circassian voice was largely ignored back then.

The Shapsugs of the Krasnodar Territory also face challenges concerning land, construction, representation, and the protection of their traditional way of life. When an indigenous minority lives in a resort zone, land becomes not only a living space, but an object of commercial interest. And wherever land becomes a commodity, a vulnerable people without strong institutions quickly loses out.

A Long-Term Strategy: Stop Waiting for Miracles and Distribute the Work

First and foremost, we must not remain trapped in grievances over the world’s injustices. Yes, historical trauma is real. Yes, exile was a national catastrophe. But memory that does not translate into people, institutions, property, education, economy, and continuous presence gradually becomes a ritual of powerlessness.

Therefore, the task of today’s generation is not only to state that Adygea, the Kuban, and the Black Sea coast are part of our historical homeland, but also to strengthen the Circassian presence there through peaceful, legal, and consistent means.

Moreover, this work cannot fall solely upon activists. A public official, entrepreneur, teacher, journalist, person of wealth, student, aul resident, and member of the foreign diaspora all possess different resources and capabilities — and consequently, their forms of participation must also differ.

Five primary directions can be identified.

First. The Authorities Must Not Observe National Issues from the Sidelines, but Engage with Them as Part of Their Duties

Leaders of Adygea, the KBR, and the KCR, parliamentarians, municipal officials, and other representatives of authority from the Circassian community must not perceive issues of language, demography, preservation of auls, the Shapsug situation, repatriation, and cultural infrastructure merely as the concern of civic organizations.

This is also their official and political responsibility.

It is not necessary to begin with large-scale or confrontational projects. Much of the required work is fully compatible with the existing system: securing regional and federal funding for language programs, youth centers, research, museums, cultural projects, legal protection of historical settlements, student exchanges, archive digitization, support for national schools, and civic initiatives.

In many cases, this involves relatively modest funds for a regional budget that can yield a substantially greater public impact.

It would be beneficial to maintain permanent working groups on demography, language, the Shapsug question, and ties with the diaspora, as well as to publish regular data on the status of the Circassian population, language, and national infrastructure. When a problem is measured and someone is officially responsible for it, the likelihood of its complete neglect diminishes significantly.

For officials themselves, there is a pragmatic interest here as well. The stronger, more educated, economically resilient, and organized the people they represent, the greater their own political weight, talent pool, and negotiating leverage become.

There is another factor. Sensitive national agendas do not disappear simply because official institutions prefer to ignore them. If moderate civic forces and state structures fail to establish legal mechanisms for discussing and resolving accumulated issues, the resulting vacuum over time may be filled by far more radical and non-systemic actors.

Thus, a prudent national policy is not a threat to stability, but one of the primary means of sustaining it.

Second. We Must Restore the Habit of Physical Presence in Our Own Historical Land

Circassians from the KBR, the KCR, other Russian regions, and the foreign diaspora need to visit Adygea, Shapsug auls, and other historically significant areas of the Krasnodar Territory more frequently.

Not only on May 21, and not only during crises.

We need to attend cultural and civic events, conferences, festivals, sports competitions, commemorative dates, visit auls, museums, and historical sites, and build connections with local community leaders, teachers, entrepreneurs, and youth.

If a small local community faces a significant problem — concerning a school, land, a cultural object, a memorial site, or a civic initiative — the presence of representatives from other parts of the Circassian world is invaluable: lawyers, journalists, scholars, civic figures, entrepreneurs, and simply engaged individuals.

This should not become an aggressive demonstration of force. What is far more important is demonstrating the cohesion of the nation: ensuring that local Circassians know they are not an isolated minority and that what happens to them matters to other Adyghes.

Ordinary people can achieve a great deal here. A family from Nalchik or Cherkessk can spend part of their vacation not only abroad, but by spending several days in Adygea or Shapsug auls. Young people can organize reciprocal trips and meetups. Bloggers can cover these places. Tourists can utilize the services of local guides, cafes, guesthouses, and craftsmen.

Even this matters. A historical land remains part of a living national space when a people continues to travel across it, know it, and support the people living there.

Third. Demography and Language Must Cease to Be Topics Solely for Conferences

Here, the primary burden of work rests not on the state, but on the Circassians themselves.

For an ordinary family, the contribution can be straightforward: passing the language to children, maintaining ties with the aul and relatives, sending children to language camps and clubs, buying books, and watching and supporting Adyghe-language content.

A teacher can create modern educational materials. A blogger can make the language visible online. A musician can produce contemporary music. A programmer can build an app or digital dictionary. A civic figure can organize a conversation club. A person of average income can fund a child’s participation in a summer language program.

People of wealth have different capabilities. They can finance teachers, scholarships, children’s centers, media projects, publishing programs, and the development of modern educational materials.

Entrepreneurs can do even more: create jobs where Circassians live, so that young people do not have to choose between an economic future and living on their own land.

This is the essence of genuine demographic policy. Calls to have more children are worth little if a young family sees no housing, employment, education, or future.

Fourth. We Need an Economy of Circassian Presence and a Division of Labor Among People with Diverse Resources

A people without its own economic foundation gradually turns into a cultural community sustained primarily by memory.

Therefore, entrepreneurs should pursue projects that are both commercially viable and strengthen local communities: agriculture and processing, tourism, hospitality and restaurant businesses, construction, crafts, IT, education, services, and light manufacturing.

Jobs in auls and small towns are particularly crucial.

For wealthy diaspora members, it is often far more beneficial not to finance yet another ceremonial gathering, but to help launch an enterprise, educational center, scholarship fund, or legal aid initiative.

Professionals can invest their expertise rather than money. A lawyer can advise on land and administrative matters. An economist can assist with business plans. An architect can design public spaces. A historian can work on memory maps. A journalist can ensure public visibility. An IT specialist can build digital infrastructure.

Individuals without financial capital also have tools to participate: purchasing goods from local producers, patronizing Circassian businesses, spreading awareness of their initiatives, and volunteering their labor.

Thus, what emerges is not a slogan, but an economic ecosystem for the people.

Simultaneously, we must link Adygea, the KBR, the KCR, Krasnodar and Stavropol Territories, the Mozdok district, and the foreign diaspora. If it is currently impossible to unite historically divided territories administratively, they can be stitched together functionally — through business, education, media, student exchanges, professional associations, foundations, research, and enduring human bonds.

Fifth. Repatriation Must Be Preserved as an Active Policy, While Abandoning Maximalism

Expecting the mass return of millions of Muhajir descendants under present conditions is unrealistic. However, it by no means follows that the topic should vanish.

What is most reasonable today is targeted repatriation of those who are genuinely capable of establishing themselves in the Caucasus: young families, students, entrepreneurs, doctors, engineers, educators, IT professionals, researchers, and other in-demand specialists.

Here too, there is fertile ground for reasonable compromise with the state.

Regional authorities can promote not abstract slogans of mass repatriation, but concrete programs to attract skilled professionals, entrepreneurs, and students from the Circassian diaspora; educational exchanges; internships; assistance for relocating families; and support for language and social integration.

This simultaneously serves the interests of the people and can be justified by the interests of the region itself: an influx of human capital, specialists, investments, and international connections.

The task of Circassian officials is not necessarily to enter into political confrontations over this matter, but to prevent it from disappearing completely. There must be designated institutions, specialists, diaspora contacts, exchange programs, and at least modest, permanently functioning return mechanisms.

Civic organizations can operate advisory centers and mentorship networks. Businesses can offer employment and internships. Universities can recruit students. Families can help new arrivals adapt. The diaspora can prepare individuals for return before their departure.

The principle must be simple: a small, continuously operating repatriation system is far better than a loud campaign once every ten years, followed by silence.

Ultimately, what should differ is not our goals, but our measure of responsibility.

From officials, we must demand programs, budgets, and administrative diligence. From large entrepreneurs — investments and jobs. From specialists — expertise. From civic figures — organization and oversight. From journalists — publicity. From the diaspora — people, capital, and connections. From the ordinary citizen — language within the family, participation, visits, community support, and at least a modest personal contribution.

Not everyone can do everything. But almost every Circassian is capable of doing something for the present and future of their people.

It is precisely from millions of such small actions and several dozen well-functioning institutions that what we call national resilience is ultimately built.

Conclusion

Adygea and the Krasnodar Territory are not the periphery of the Circassian question. They are its western heart. Here it will be decided whether the memory of Western Circassia remains a living political and cultural force or turns into museum grief.

We must soberly acknowledge: today we do not control these territories demographically, economically, or administratively. But recognizing weakness is not capitulation. It is the beginning of a mature strategy, for a Circassian revival will not happen on its own; it must be prepared: through language, demography, land, law, economy, repatriation, education, media, analytics, and ties across all parts of the Circassian world.

This is the long-term work of a people that understands the value of its land.

The central message of our study and the core meaning of the proposed strategy is simple: not to beg for permission to remember our Homeland, but to build upon it an infrastructure of life such that the Circassians must once again be reckoned with.

The Circassian nation lives!

Center for Strategic Studies of the Circassian socio-political organization “Khabze”.