The Circassian Genocide of 1864: What Happened, the Exile, and the Numbers

On May 21, 1864, Russian imperial forces gathered in a forest clearing at Qbaada — a valley near the Black Sea coast in what had been the heart of Circassian territory — and held a military parade to celebrate their victory. The ceremony lasted a few hours. The war that preceded it had lasted 101 years.

What came after was not a peace settlement or an annexation in any conventional sense. It was the systematic removal of an entire people from their land. Within months, the northwestern Caucasus — a territory that had been home to between one and four million Circassians — was emptied. Ships carrying survivors pulled away from the Black Sea coast packed beyond capacity. Tens of thousands of bodies washed up on Turkish shores or were left on the roads where people had fallen. The Russian census of 1897 recorded approximately 150,000 Circassians remaining in the conquered region — roughly one tenth of the population that had lived there before the war began.

This is what happened in 1864. And it has no other honest name than genocide.

Who Were the Circassians Before 1864?

The Circassians — who call themselves Adyghe — were the indigenous people of the northwestern Caucasus, occupying a territory that stretched from the Taman Peninsula on the Black Sea coast eastward across the fertile plains and mountain valleys of what is now Krasnodar Krai, Adygea, Kabardino-Balkaria, and Karachay-Cherkessia. Before the Russian conquest began in earnest, estimates of their population range from one to four million, with the Russian-era census of 1830 suggesting more than four million people living across Circassia.

They were organized into twelve major tribes — among them the Kabardians, Shapsugs, Abzakhs, Bzhedugs, Natukhai, and Ubykh — each with distinct dialects and territorial ranges, but sharing a common language family, a common code of conduct (Adyghe Xabze), and a common identity as Adyghe. By the early 19th century, the majority had converted to Islam, though their practice blended Islamic observance with much older Caucasian traditions.

They were, by multiple contemporary accounts, a formidable and proud people. British diplomat James Bell, who lived among them in the 1830s, described a society of extraordinary dignity and discipline. French traveler Frédéric Dubois de Montpéreux wrote of a people deeply attached to their land and deeply resistant to outside authority. The Ottoman court had recruited Circassian women into imperial harems and Circassian men into elite military corps for centuries — a testament to the culture's reputation across the region.

None of this made any difference in 1864.

The War That Was Not a War: 1763–1864

The Russian Empire did not conquer Circassia in a single campaign. It took 101 years.

The conflict began in 1763 when Russia established a fort at Mozdok, pushing into territory the Circassians had occupied for millennia. What followed was a century of grinding, brutal military pressure — the longest war in the history of Russia, and the longest and final war in Circassian history. The Circassians resisted fiercely. Organized into a loose tribal confederation rather than a centralized state, they adapted to Russian tactics, used the terrain with extraordinary skill, and managed to hold off an empire for a century that was simultaneously fighting on multiple fronts across Europe and Asia.

The war entered its most violent phase after 1856, when the Crimean War ended and Russia — freed from its western preoccupations — turned its full military attention to finishing what it had started in the Caucasus. Count Dmitri Milyutin, appointed as Alexander II's Minister of War in 1861, implemented a strategy that had been proposed years earlier: not just military defeat, but the complete removal of the Circassian population from their territory, replaced by Russian Cossack settlements.

On June 25, 1861, Tsar Alexander II signed an imperial rescript declaring that "the matter of complete conquest of the Caucasus is near to conclusion" and calling for the forced removal of "hostile mountaineers from the fertile countries they occupy" to make room for "a Russian Christian population forever." The document was explicit. The intent was not assimilation. It was replacement.

The Circassians understood what was coming. That same year, they established the Great Freedom Assembly at their capital in Shashe — modern-day Sochi — under the leadership of Haji Qerandiqo Berzedj, and sent appeals for help to Britain and other European powers. On April 9, 1864, Circassian leaders signed a formal petition to Queen Victoria asking for military intervention. The British government did not respond with military support. Some British ships and Greek vessels helped with transportation of survivors at various points, but no country publicly opposed the Russian campaign.

The Circassian resistance made its last stand in the mountains through early 1864. In May, an army of 20,000 Circassian horsemen faced a fully equipped Russian force of 100,000 men. The outcome was not in doubt. May 21, 1864 — the date of the military parade at Qbaada — became the official date of Russian victory and, for Circassians, the date that marks the beginning of the end.

The Expulsion: What Actually Happened

The military defeat was the beginning, not the end. What followed was the forced expulsion of the surviving Circassian population — an operation that, in its scale, speed, and brutality, has few parallels in 19th-century history.

Russian troops advanced through Circassian villages, burning crops, destroying orchards, and driving civilians toward the Black Sea coast. Those who resisted were killed. Those who fled into the mountains faced starvation as their food supplies were systematically destroyed. Russian General Grigory Zass, who commanded operations in the western Caucasus, was known for collecting the severed heads of Circassian fighters and sending them to institutions as anatomical specimens — an act that his superiors tolerated and that he justified by describing Circassians as a "lowly race." Other accounts from the period describe the impaling of prisoners and the killing of civilians, including pregnant women, as deliberate tactics of terror.

The coast became a scene of catastrophe. Tens of thousands of Circassians arrived at the Black Sea shore with nothing — no food, no shelter, no vessels to carry them. Ottoman ships were overwhelmed. The conditions in the improvised camps that formed along the Turkish coast were medieval: cholera, typhus, and dysentery spread through populations already weakened by displacement. German historian Karl Friedrich Neumann estimated that of the 1.5 million Circassian exiles who attempted to reach Anatolia, more than 500,000 died during the journey or in the death marches preceding it. An additional half million deaths occurred in the disease-ridden refugee camps along the Anatolian coast. Ottoman archives, which record nearly one million migrants entering Ottoman territory from the Caucasus by 1879, note that nearly half of them died on the shores upon arrival.

British Ambassador Henry Bulwer, reporting from Istanbul on May 25, 1864, urged his government to charter vessels because the sheer number of displaced people was beyond the Ottoman Empire's capacity to transport — and that without more ships, innocent civilians would simply be left to die. The ships came too slowly and in too small numbers.

The deportations were not completed in a single year. They continued through 1867 and in some areas beyond. The Kabardians in the east were dealt with earlier; many were allowed to remain under strict conditions of submission and cultural suppression. But in the western regions — among the Shapsugs, Natukhai, Abzakhs, and Ubykh — the expulsion was total. The Ubykh, who spoke one of the world's most phonetically complex languages and had been among the fiercest resisters, were entirely expelled. Their language died with their last native speaker, Tevfik Esenç, in Turkey in 1992.

The Numbers: What the Evidence Shows

Establishing precise death tolls from events 160 years ago is difficult, and the numbers vary significantly across sources depending on methodology and political inclination. What is not in dispute is the scale.

Before the genocide: The Russian census of 1830 recorded more than four million Circassians in their homeland. Other estimates range from one to two million for the northwestern tribes specifically.

Killed during the war and expulsion: Russian government accounts of their final campaign acknowledge more than 400,000 killed in military operations alone. Turkish and Russian documents combined suggest between 1.5 and 2 million deaths from military operations, massacres, forced marches, starvation, and disease — including those who died on the Black Sea crossing and in the Anatolian camps.

Expelled: The Main Staff of the Caucasus Army recorded that 418,000 people left the region between 1861 and 1864. Ottoman archives record roughly one million arrivals from the Caucasus by 1879. At least 600,000 people lost their lives to massacre, starvation, and the elements while hundreds of thousands more were forced to leave their homeland.

Survivors in the homeland: Most sources state that as little as 3% of Circassia's population remained after the genocide. The Russian census of 1897 confirmed this: approximately 150,000 Circassians remained in the conquered region — one tenth of the pre-war population at minimum.

What this means: The genocide culminated in the deaths and forced expulsions of 95–97% of Circassian natives from the Caucasus. In the language of modern genocide studies, this is among the highest proportional losses of any people in recorded history.

The Circassian genocide is considered to be the deadliest ethnic cleansing campaign perpetrated by any state during the 19th century.

The Tsar's Own Words

The question of intent — whether this was deliberate genocide or the tragic byproduct of war — is settled by the Russian government's own documents.

Tsar Alexander II's 1861 rescript explicitly called for the removal of Circassians from "fertile countries they occupy" to replace them with Russian settlers. General Milyutin's strategy was not military defeat followed by integration; it was military defeat followed by depopulation. The Cossack stanitsas — Russian settlements — were established on Circassian land while the deportations were still ongoing, with 35 established between 1861 and 1862 and 17 more in 1864 alone.

British diplomat Gifford Palgrave stated that the Circassians' "only crime was not being Russian."

Russian bureaucrat Adolf Berzhe, writing as a contemporary observer, described the expulsion as essential for "Russian security" — not as a regrettable consequence of war, but as a policy goal. The destruction of Circassian villages, crops, and food supplies before the deportations — ensuring that people had nothing to return to — was deliberate. The timing of the final campaign, the routing of civilians toward a coast without sufficient vessels, and the absence of any meaningful resettlement support: these were not accidents of war. They were the implementation of a plan.

Recognition: Where It Stands Today

As of 2020, Georgia was the only country to classify the events as genocide, while Russia actively denies the Circassian genocide and classifies the events as a simple migration of "undeveloped barbaric peoples."

On February 7, 1992, Kabardino-Balkaria's parliament passed a resolution formally condemning the genocide and establishing May 21 as the Day of Memory. Adygea's parliament followed with a similar resolution in 1996. These remain the only Russian federal subjects to have done so.

Russia's position at the national level has been consistent denial. Russian state media and officials have gone as far as claiming that the invasion "never happened" and that Circassia "voluntarily joined Russia in the 16th century." This denial is maintained despite the existence of Russian imperial military records, administrative documents, and the accounts of Russian generals and bureaucrats that contradict it.

The 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi brought the issue to international attention. Sochi — built on territory that was the site of the final Russian military parade in 1864 — hosted the Games exactly 150 years after the event Circassians call their greatest catastrophe. Circassian activists and diaspora organizations mounted international protests, calling on the International Olympic Committee to acknowledge the history. The protests had limited political effect but significant cultural impact, bringing the Circassian genocide to audiences who had never heard of it.

The campaign for recognition continues. Circassian communities in the United States, Canada, Germany, Turkey, Jordan, and Israel have lobbied their respective governments. The issue is active in international human rights forums. Walter Richmond, whose book The Circassian Genocide (2013) is the most comprehensive scholarly account in English, has noted that the deep-rooted wounds of the past "do not cure themselves and do not simply go away with time but are still waiting to be resolved, even after a century and a half."

The Diaspora That Was Created

The Circassians who survived the expulsion settled primarily in Ottoman territory — in what is now Turkey, Jordan, Syria, Israel, and across the Balkans. The genocide caused the formation of the Circassian diaspora, which is mainly concentrated in countries that were once part of the Ottoman Empire, particularly Turkey, Jordan, and Syria.

Turkey holds the largest Circassian diaspora today, estimated at two to two and a half million. Jordan's Circassian community, which arrived in 1878 and helped found the city that became Amman, has maintained a disproportionate presence in national institutions — including the Royal Guard and senior military and political positions — for nearly 150 years. Syria's Circassian community, before the 2011 war, numbered between 80,000 and 120,000 and had maintained the language and traditions with notable tenacity.

In total, the global Circassian diaspora is estimated at five million or more — meaning that today, approximately 86% of all Circassians on earth live outside their ancestral homeland.

That fact is the most direct measure of what 1864 produced. A people who numbered in the millions in their homeland were reduced to a remnant there and scattered across fifty countries, carrying their language, their traditions, their Xabze, and the memory of what was done to them. They built communities in Amman, Istanbul, Damascus, Haifa, Paterson, and Berlin. They kept the dances. They taught the children. They named their sons and daughters with Adyghe names in lands where no one could pronounce them.

This is what survival looks like when an empire tries to erase you.

May 21: The Day of Mourning

Every year on May 21, Circassians around the world gather to commemorate the genocide. In Nalchik and Maikop, gatherings are held at memorial sites. In Amman and Istanbul, diaspora organizations hold ceremonies. In cities across Europe and North America, smaller communities mark the date quietly — sometimes a few dozen people in a community center, sometimes larger public events with traditional dress and music.

The day is not only mourning. It is assertion. The act of gathering, of naming what happened, of keeping the memory alive across 160 years and fifty countries — this is itself a form of resistance to the erasure that the Russian Empire attempted and that the Russian government continues, in its way, to attempt through denial.

Russia officially denies the campaign as being a genocide. However, many Russian citizens do recognize their nation's actions as extremely devastating for the Circassian population. Russian nationalists continue to celebrate May 21 each year as a "holy conquest day." Circassians commemorate it as the Day of Mourning.

Both groups have something in common: they understand that May 21, 1864 was not a minor historical footnote. They just disagree about what it means.

Why This History Matters Now

The Circassian genocide is not a closed chapter. It is the context within which everything about Circassian identity today operates — the reason the diaspora exists, the reason the homeland holds only 14% of the world's Circassians, the reason language preservation is urgent rather than academic, the reason repatriation is politically fraught, and the reason Circassian cultural institutions in three small Russian republics carry the weight they do.

It is also a test case for how the world handles the memory of crimes that were committed before the word "genocide" existed, by states that still exist and deny them. The Armenian genocide, the Herero genocide, the Circassian genocide — each one raises the same questions about historical accountability, political recognition, and the rights of peoples whose lands were taken and whose populations were destroyed.

For Circassians, the answer to "why does this matter" is not abstract. It matters because their grandparents were among the people on those ships. It matters because their language is endangered partly as a direct consequence of those events. It matters because their homeland still holds the bones of people who were buried there before 1864 and the bones of people who never made it out.

It matters because it happened. And because it has never been honestly reckoned with.

Conclusion

The Circassian genocide of 1864 was the deliberate, systematic destruction of a people by an empire that wanted their land and decided the most efficient solution was to remove them from it. Between 95% and 97% of the Circassian population was killed or expelled. At least 600,000 people died from massacre, starvation, disease, and drowning. Up to 1.5 million were forced into exile. The survivors built communities across the Ottoman world and beyond, where their descendants — five million of them — live today.

Russia denies it. The evidence — much of it produced by Russian imperial officials themselves — does not.

Every May 21, Circassians gather across the world and say the same thing: we remember, we are still here, and what was done to us had a name.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was the Circassian genocide? The systematic mass killing, ethnic cleansing, and forced expulsion of 95–97% of the Circassian people by the Russian Empire between 1763 and 1867, with the most intense phase occurring between 1860 and 1864. It resulted in the deaths of between 600,000 and 1.5 million people and the destruction of Circassian civilization in its homeland.

When exactly did it happen? The Russo-Circassian War lasted 101 years, from 1763 to 1864. The final genocidal campaign — the mass expulsion — was carried out between 1860 and 1867. May 21, 1864 is the date commemorated as the official end of Circassian resistance and the beginning of mass exile.

How many Circassians were killed? Estimates vary by source. Russian government records of their final campaign acknowledge over 400,000 killed in military operations. Combined Turkish and Russian documents suggest 1.5 to 2 million total deaths from all causes — including forced marches, starvation, disease, and the Black Sea crossing. The Russian 1897 census recorded only 150,000 Circassians remaining in the conquered territory.

Is it recognized as genocide? Georgia formally recognized it as genocide as of 2020. The parliaments of Kabardino-Balkaria (1992) and Adygea (1996) have passed resolutions condemning it. Russia officially denies it occurred. International recognition remains limited but is the subject of ongoing diaspora advocacy.

Where did the survivors go? Primarily to Ottoman territory — modern-day Turkey, Jordan, Syria, and the Balkans. Turkey holds the largest diaspora community today (estimated 2–2.5 million). Jordan's Circassian community has been influential in national institutions since 1878. The global Circassian diaspora numbers five million or more across fifty countries.

What is May 21? May 21 is the Circassian Day of Mourning — the date Circassians worldwide commemorate the genocide. It marks the date in 1864 when Russian forces held their victory parade at Qbaada, signaling the completion of the conquest and the beginning of mass exile.

Sources & References

Richmond, Walter. The Circassian Genocide. Rutgers University Press, 2013.
Richmond, Walter. The Northwest Caucasus: Past, Present, Future. Routledge, 2008.
Jaimoukha, Amjad. The Circassians: A Handbook. Palgrave Macmillan, 2001.
King, Charles. The Ghost of Freedom: A History of the Caucasus. Oxford University Press, 2008.
Bell, James Stanislaus. Journal of a Residence in Circassia. London, 1840.
Neumann, Karl Friedrich. Historical estimates of Circassian exile and mortality, 19th century.
Russian Imperial Census, 1897 — Circassian population data.
Ottoman Imperial Archives — migration records, 1864–1879.
Bulwer, Henry. Diplomatic correspondence from Istanbul, May 1864.
Alexander II. Imperial Rescript on Settlement of the North Caucasus, June 25, 1861.
Messenger, Evan. "The Circassian Genocide: The Forgotten Tragedy of the First Modern Genocide." American University Journal of International Service, 2023.
Borgen Project. "10 Facts About the Circassian Genocide," 2017.

© CircassianWeb — The comprehensive digital platform for Circassian Adyghe heritage preservation Researched and written by the Circassian Heritage editorial team. Content reviewed for historical accuracy.

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