My name is Mikhail Ivanov, and I am a Yakut from the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia), one of the 24 recognized ethnic republics within the Russian Federation. Russia is composed of 89 constituent federal subjects, among which these republics function as homelands for Russia’s diverse non-Russian (ethnically wise) indigenous and minority peoples. Unlike standard administrative regions (oblasts, krai), the republics were established with special status, granting them the legal right to adopt their own constitutions and designate their native languages as official alongside main Russian. This framework reflects the country’s vast ethnic mosaic and provides a degree of cultural autonomy for many ethnic groups living in Russia, like the Yakuts.
Siberia and the Far East of Russia
Yakutia is immense – more than three million square kilometers, a territory rivaling the size of entire continents such as India or Argentina. It is a land of endless taiga forest, deep permafrost, diamond-rich earth, and mighty rivers that carve their way through one of the coldest inhabited regions on the planet. Yakutsk, our capital, holds the distinction of being the coldest major city on Earth. Winter temperatures routinely plunge below -40°C and can reach -60°C, with some northern settlements recording extremes as low as -71°C. In striking contrast, the short summer brings intense heat that often exceeds 35°C, sometimes climbing even higher beneath the midnight sun.
These dramatic seasonal swings profoundly shape both the land and its people. The permafrost – a layer of permanently frozen ground of hundreds of meters deep – dictates construction, agriculture, and the very rhythm of life. In winter, the soil becomes iron-hard and rivers frozen highways; in summer, the surface thaws into soft, unstable ground while the taiga explodes with frantic biological activity. This forces a culture of intense preparation and resilience. Families work feverishly during the brief warm months – gathering wild berries, fishing, hunting, drying meat and fish, and tending gardens – to survive the long, unforgiving winter. These practices are far more than survival strategies; they forge a deep connection to the land, to family, and to community, while cultivating values of foresight, endurance, and respect for nature’s limits.
Just as great civilizations throughout history have adapted to the extremes of their environments – whether seasonal floods along great rivers or the harsh cycles of nomadic life on vast steppes – the Yakut people and many others in Siberiahave developed a resilient culture finely tuned to these extraordinary temperature contrasts. Yet across wider expanses of Siberia and the Russian Far East, the traditional rhythms of life shaped by these extremes are under growing pressure.
The republics, like my native Sakha (Yakutia), enjoy special status with rights to their own constitutions and official languages alongside Russian. However, for the approximately 40 officially recognized “small-numbered indigenous peoples” of the North, Siberia, and the Far East – who together tally only around 250,000 to 260,000 people – maintaining their distinct ways of life has become increasingly difficult. Especially for those indigenous communities whose traditional livelihoods depend heavily on young, able-bodied labor – such as reindeer herding, where a single family may manage several hundred animals.
Climate change is one of the most immediate threats. Thawing permafrost, which underlies much of the region and can extend hundreds of meters deep, is destabilizing the very ground on which communities depend. Villages experience infrastructure damage, altered river flows disrupt traditional fishing and transportation routes, and changing weather patterns affect wildlife migrations, berry harvests, etc. What was once a predictable cycle of intense preparation for winter has grown more unpredictable, straining the resilience that has defined these cultures for centuries.
Modern development and infrastructure projects bring new economic opportunities but also accelerate disruption. Expanding resource extraction and energy networks open remote areas, though they often fragment traditional territories and make semi-nomadic or subsistence lifestyles harder to sustain. At the same time, younger generations -understandably drawn to education, urban opportunities, reliable services, and modern conveniences are moving away from the demanding seasonal cycles of their ancestors. As a result, native languages are fading rapidly (with dozens of indigenous languages of the region considered endangered or critically endangered), traditional knowledge of the land and rivers is less commonly passed on, and many cultural practices risk being remembered only in stories rather than lived experience.
This is not a question of blame. The pull of modernity is universal, and the desire for better opportunities, comfort, and security for one’s family is natural everywhere. Yet the pace of change in these vast and once-isolated territories often leaves little room for balanced adaptation. Valuable heritage, unique languages, oral histories, spiritual connections to the landscape, and sustainable practices refined over generations – can disappear within a single lifetime.
It is in response to these very challenges that geographical societies play a vital role. The Russian Geographical Society (RGS), with its long history of exploration, ethnography, and conservation across Russia’s territories, has long worked to document and support the country’s cultural and natural diversity. Similarly, the China Exploration and Research Society (CERS) brings a focused commitment to respectful documentation, cultural preservation, and building bridges between traditional knowledge and contemporary realities.
Over the past decades, CERS has carried out exceptionally valuable work across China, meticulously documenting ethnic minority cultures, remote ecosystems, and rapidly changing border regions while supporting local communities in preserving their heritage. This deep experience and sensitive approach have earned the organization genuine respect. Now, as CERS begins to extend its reach northward into Siberia and the Russian Far East, this expansion feels both timely and highly welcome. The society’s proven methodology of combining rigorous exploration with cultural empathy is especially well-suited to the vast northern territories, where similar pressures of modernization and climate change are at play.
A compelling example lies with the Evenki people. Wong How Man and the CERS team have long studied Evenki reindeer herders in northern China, documenting their traditional knowledge, migratory routes, and harmonious relationship with the taiga. Across the border in Russia, particularly in Yakutia and other parts of Siberia and the Far East, live other Evenki communities facing many of the same challenges. This creates a natural and promising cross-border continuum for documentation and comparative study. CERS’s expertise in working with such transboundary ethnic groups, its commitment to high-quality recording of disappearing traditions, and its focus on practical preservation efforts position the society to make a meaningful contribution in Russia as well.
As a Yakut myself – a representative of one of Russia’s indigenous peoples in Siberia – I have personally witnessed many of the challenges described above. That is why it is particularly meaningful to see explorers who share the same deep values and respect for these cultures and landscapes. For me, being able to contribute to turning CERS’s plans into reality in my native region is both a privilege and a responsibility. I look forward to helping build these new bridges so that the rich heritage of Siberia and the Russian Far East can be better documented, appreciated, and supported in our rapidly changing world.