A few years ago I wrote about Tomasz Kamusella’s book The Politics of Language and Nationalism in Central Europe (which sparked quite an interesting discussion); now he has an article in Acta Slavica Iaponica called “The Change of the Name of the Russian Language in Russian from Rossiiskii to Russkii: Did Politics Have Anything to Do with It?” It’s available as a pdf file at this link, where it’s followed by a response (in Russian) by Oksana Ostapchuk, “Русский versus российский: исторический и социокультурный контекст функционирования лингвонимов” [Russkii versus Rossiiskii: Historical and sociocultural context of the functioning of language names]. He explains the genesis of the article in this passage:
As remarked above, between the 1750s and 1830s, the name of Russia (Rossiia) corresponded unambiguously to the name of the Russian language (Rossiiskii), as is the norm in the case of other states across Central and Eastern Europe. I do not know why the name of this language changed to Russkii and why this occurred in the 1830s. Until 2007, I worked at one of Poland’s best centers of Russian studies. I thought that colleagues more knowledgeable than I in the history of Russian and other Slavic languages would have readily provided an explanation. To my surprise, no answers were forthcoming. It appeared that they either did not know of this issue or considered it unimportant. I was flabbergasted […]
And he lays out the essence of the situation here:
The gap between Russkii and Rossiiskii was never very wide in the early modern period, because at that time, it was bridged by intermediary forms that are not current (at least in standard Russian) today. They included the following forms for the Rus’/Muscovian male, namely Rossiianin, Rosiianin, Rusianin, Rusin, Rus, Ruski, and Russkii. A similar series can be extended between Rus’ and Rossiia, namely, Rus’, Rusiia, Rusa, Russa, Roseia, Rosiia, and Rossiia. And likewise, a similar net of words may be hung between the adjectives Russkii and Rossiiskii, that is, Russkii, Rus’kii, Ruskii, Ruski, Roskii, Rosskii, Rosiiskii, and Rossiiskii.
This plethora of forms and their varied and variously overlapping meanings are a testimony to the natural variability of a language before a standard form is imposed on it with authoritative dictionaries and grammars that constitute the normative basis for any printed matter in a standard language (in the Western meaning of this word) and for school textbooks published in it. […]
But as evidenced by the titles of the Russian dictionaries recorded by Stankiewicz, in the course of the standardization of Russian during the second half of the eighteenth century, a consensus was reached. The state was dubbed Rossiia, its population, Rossiiane, and the language, Rossiiskii. This consensus began to unravel in the 1830s and 1840s, and was definitively broken by the 1850s. It was replaced with Russkii for the empire’s population and its language, while the polity’s name remained the same as before, Rossiia.
His proposed solution involves the Russianization of Poland after the Uprising of 1830, and I won’t try to summarize it here; I’ll just quote a couple of footnotes so you can see how much fascinating detail is involved (if, of course, you’re fascinated by this kind of detail). Here’s one:
“Galicia” was invented by Austria as its administrative of how to organize and legitimize its seizure of part of Poland-Lithuania. Officially, the territory was named Regnum Galiciæ et Lodomeriæ in Latin and the Königreich Galizien und Lodomerien in German, meaning the Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria. (The Latin term appeared for the first time in 1205 when on his coronation, the Hungarian king, Andrew II, among others adopted the title of Rex, or King, of Galicia and Lodomeria.) “Galicia” and “Lodomeria” in this name are Latinized forms of the names of the late medieval Rus’ duchies of Halich (Halych) and Vladimir (Volodymyr) in Volhynia. Following the Mongolian invasions, Halich remained the sole powerful (almost) independent Rus’ duchy and managed to seize Volhynia from the Mongols. In 1245, the pope made it a kingdom (Regnum Galiciæ et Lodomeriæ) and eight years later, crowned its ruler, Daniel (Danylo), the first-ever King of All Rus’ (Rex Rusiae). In the mid-fourteenth century, Poland annexed this kingdom in a piecemeal manner.
Importantly, the western half of Austria’s Galicia with the former Polish capital of Cracow at its center never formed part of the medieval Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria. Before the partitions, it had been known as Małopolska or Lesser Poland; the extension of the name Galicia westward conveniently (for Vienna) eliminated the name of Poland. Larry Wolff, The Idea of Galicia: History and Fantasy in Habsburg Political Culture (Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010).
And here’s another:
The German terms Ruthenen and Ruthenisch were proposed as official names in 1843 by the Greek Catholic bishop, Mykhailo Levits’kyi of the Przemysl (Przemyśl) Eparchy, as the parallel German terms Russinen and Russinisch sounded too Russian. Vienna approved and adopted the bishop’s proposal. Tomasz Kamusella, The Politics of Language and Nationalism in Modern Central Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2008), p. 383.
Another interesting tidbit: the use of “the Ukraine” in English, with the definite article, is a direct loan from the German coinage die Ukraina.