A Fading Russian Legacy in China: How Xi’s Vision of Ethnic Unity Is Reshaping Cultural Heritage

Once, in the northeastern reaches of China, there existed vibrant communities where Russian was spoken as commonly as Mandarin, where Orthodox churches stood proudly alongside Chinese temples, and where European architecture created a distinctive skyline. These border regions were home to thousands of ethnic Russians who had settled there through waves of migration dating back to the Tsarist era. Their cultural imprint ran deep, influencing everything from local cuisine to music, creating a unique Sino-Russian identity that persisted for generations.

Today, that rich cultural tapestry has largely unraveled under President Xi Jinping’s national campaign promoting “ethnic unity.” What was once authentic cultural diversity has been reduced to carefully curated tourist attractions where Chinese visitors can take photos with blonde-wigged performers in stereotypical Russian costumes. The Orthodox churches remain, but most serve as museums or scenic backdrops rather than active places of worship. Restaurants still advertise “authentic” Russian cuisine, though the recipes have been altered to suit Chinese palates. The living, breathing Russian communities that once defined these border regions have dwindled to elderly individuals who remember a different time, while their children and grandchildren have largely assimilated into the dominant Han Chinese culture or emigrated elsewhere.

This transformation reflects a broader shift in China’s approach to ethnic diversity under Xi’s leadership. The current administration has moved away from the relative cultural pluralism of previous decades toward a policy that emphasizes assimilation and the primacy of Chinese identity. The government promotes what it calls the “zhonghua minzu” concept – the idea of a unified Chinese nation encompassing all ethnic groups. While officially China recognizes 56 ethnic groups, including Russians, the practical implementation of this recognition has changed dramatically. Cultural expressions are increasingly filtered through a state-approved lens, with authentic practices replaced by performances designed for tourism and government-sanctioned narratives about harmonious ethnic relations.

For the few remaining ethnic Russians, this shift has been profound and often painful. Elderly residents recall times when their cultural practices weren’t mere performances but living traditions passed through generations. They speak of bilingual communities where Russian language, literature, and customs were preserved naturally within families and neighborhoods. Now, Russian language instruction has largely disappeared from local schools, religious practices face restrictions, and younger generations have little incentive to maintain their cultural heritage. Some elderly Russians express a sense of resignation, understanding that their way of life will likely disappear with them. Others have become reluctant participants in the tourism industry, donning traditional costumes to pose for photos with Chinese tourists seeking exotic experiences, turning their heritage into a commodity while watching its authentic essence fade.

The physical landscape tells this story of cultural transformation as well. Historic Russian neighborhoods have been redeveloped into themed tourist zones where architectural authenticity is secondary to commercial appeal. Original buildings have been replaced with new constructions that exaggerate “Russian” features to meet tourist expectations. Street signs in Cyrillic remain, but they’re often decorative rather than functional. Souvenir shops sell matryoshka dolls and fake fur hats manufactured in factories hundreds of miles away. Local governments promote these areas as examples of China’s multicultural character and international connections, particularly as China seeks stronger economic ties with Russia. Yet the commercialization often obscures the genuine history of Russian communities in China – including complex stories of immigration, hardship, cultural exchange, and sometimes persecution during periods of political tension.

This situation reflects broader questions about cultural preservation in an era of globalization and strong national identity politics. While China presents its approach as protecting and celebrating diversity, critics argue it represents a form of cultural erasure that reduces rich traditions to simplified stereotypes. For tourists snapping photos with performers in Russian costumes or buying Russian-themed souvenirs, the experience offers novelty without depth. For scholars and those with personal connections to these communities, what’s being lost is irreplaceable – languages, traditions, perspectives, and living connections to a shared Sino-Russian history that once represented genuine cultural fusion rather than staged performances. What remains is primarily nostalgia, photogenic props, and the memories of an elderly few who still remember when Russian culture in China wasn’t an attraction but simply a way of life.