Nationalism and Identity Construction in Central Asia: Dimensions, Dynamics, and Directions 0739181343, 9780739181348

Table of contents :
Title Page
Introduction
The Three Discursive Paradigms of State Identity in Kazakhstan
Kazakhstan’s Civic-National Identity
Born for Misery and Woe
Does Being Kyrgyz Mean Being a Muslim?
Nation-Building and Political Islam in Post-Soviet Tajikistan
Eye on the International Image
Identity Theft?
Exclusivist Identities in Central Asia
Conclusion
Bibliography
Index
About Contributors

Citation preview

Nationalism and Identity Construction in Central Asia

Nationalism and Identity Construction in Central Asia Dimensions, Dynamics, and Directions Edited by Mariya Y. Omelicheva

LEXINGTON BOOKS Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.rowman.com Unit A, Whitacre Mews, 26-34 Stannary Street, London SE11 4AB Copyright © 2015 by Lexington Books All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available ISBN 978-0-7391-8134-8 (cloth : alk. paper) -- ISBN 978-0-7391-8135-5 (electronic) TM The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992. Printed in the United States of America

Introduction Mariya Y. Omelicheva Nations, nationalisms, and identities continue to play key roles in the quest for both individual and collective belonging. Ubiquitous and timeless, they structure individuals’ global outlooks determining their future relationships—cooperative or hostile—with other people, and inspirit them in ways comparable only to the pull of religion. In the twentieth century, a multitude of global forces have further affected the issues of national identity and nationalisms. The movements of people, capital, ideas, and knowledge have altered the conditions under which communities and identities are forged in the modern era. The interest in the topics of nations, nationalisms, and identity construction resurfaced following the end of the Cold War that precipitated an epidemic of nationalist conflict around the globe and brought about into existence new nations and states. Since 1990, twenty-nine new “nation-states” have come into being with most of these entities emerging from the collapse of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (U.S.S.R.). Influenced by the modern trends of nation building, but also evincing distinctive practices of constructing new identities, these newly independent countries provided researchers with “national laboratories” for developing and testing competing explanations for the emergence and impact of nationalisms. National identities became a primary and popular explanation for a wide range of political, economic, social, and cultural processes, including the issues of governance, development, security, and peace and conflict. Central Asia, a region of diverse topography, religious practices, and culture with an intricate makeup of multi-layered and mixed identities, exemplifies some of the common patterns of national identity construction but also unique manifestations of nationalisms and their impacts on national and regional stability, conflict, regimes, and foreign policy, among other themes.[1] The five Central Asian republics—Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan—appeared in the early Soviet period. Yet, the Soviet experiences that gave birth to these nations also stifled many expressions of their national sentiment and, therefore, are rejected today as the building blocks of the new Central Asian identities by the modern nationalists. Neither can these countries recourse to the histories preceding Russian colonization because political entities and allegiances that existed during that period do not fit with the ethno-national legitimacy these republics are manufacturing today. As a result, the national identities that are being built in Central Asia are somewhat timeless, lacking ethno-territorial anchors and historical reference points other than myths of origin taken from the Soviet historiography.[2] How can new nations arise without being brought into being by nationalisms, as exemplified by the republics of Central Asia? Why did nationalisms become the key mechanisms of political process in these states? What kinds of nationalisms unfold in

Central Asia, and what determines the nature and dynamics of national identity construction in these states? The volume on Nationalisms and Identity Construction in Central Asia addresses these important questions as Central Asian states continue to reexamine and debate who and what they represent more than twenty years in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union. The goals of this introductory chapter are three-fold. First, it places the studies of nationalism and identity construction in Central Asia in the context of the broader scholarship on nationalism and national identity and the core debates, which permeate the study of nations and nationalism. This is done to highlight new experiences and challenges facing the post-colonial societies, including those in Central Asia. The second goal of the introduction is to put forth a framework that allows for an open-ended and interdisciplinary exploration of nationalisms and identity construction. In the past, it was common to describe the post-1989 political developments in the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe using the concept of “matryoshka” nationalism, from the Russian stackable dolls of decreasing size placed one inside the other. However, a different metaphor, that of a jigsaw puzzle or a game of LEGO, is more appropriate in the present-day Central Asia. It underscores the existence of an array of pieces and building blocks for nationalisms and identity formation in the region that can be assembled and interlocked in many different ways. To simplify this complexity and make it amenable to a systematic examination, we developed a threepronged framework, branded as a “3D” perspective after the first letters of Dimensions, Dynamics, and Directions, that we apply in this volume. The first part of the framework—dimensions—underscores the new and complex ways in which nationalisms and identities manifest themselves in Central Asia. The second part— dynamics—is premised on the idea that nationalisms and identity construction in the Central Asian states may indicate some empirical continuities with the past, but are more concerned with legitimations of the present power politics and relations in these states. It calls for the identification of the main actors, strategies, tactics, interests, and reactions to the processes of nationalism and identity construction. The third part of the framework—directions—addresses implications of nationalisms and identity construction in Central Asia. Finally, the introduction provides an overview of the volume highlighting its common themes and questions.

CENTRAL ASIAN NATION BUILDING IN THE CONTEXT OF SCHOLARSHIP ON NATIONALISM The studies of nationalisms and related subjects have multiplied exponentially in recent years. Although, the field still lacks consensus over the fundamental concepts of nations, ethnicities, and nationalisms, many of the early conceptual debates have seen significant advances. An array of usages of the term “nationalism” has converged on a few common uses that were cogently described by the pioneer of nationalism studies, Anthony D. Smith, in a recent review.[3] The concept of nationalism is often used to denote the process of creating a nation or nation-state. It

can also refer to a sentiment or consciousness of belonging to the nation. Nationalism can take on a meaning of a doctrine or ideology for realizing national goals or political movement acting on behalf of the nation, and its language and symbolism.[4] The concepts of politics, sentiments, and ideas run as a common thread through the common uses of the term “nationalism.” They are also emblematic of virtually all forms of nationalism in practice.[5] The extant theoretical debates over the concept of nationalism and the kindred idea of the nation have given rise to a wider range of questions about the relationship between nations and nationalisms (Is nationalism a source or a consequence of the nation?), relation of ethnicity to nation (Is ethnie an elemental building block of the nation?), and objective and subjective underpinnings of nationalism (Are language, religion, territory, and other “objective” factors more important than the perceptions of belongingness and strength of feelings of the unity of people?). While the precise etymology of the great conceptual debates falls outside of the purview of this volume, [6] a brief overview of the main perspectives on the raised questions warrants inclusion insofar as these approaches also inform the studies of nationalism and identity construction in Central Asia. Many existing explanations for the rise of nations and nationalisms fall into one of the two distinct paradigms, namely, primoridalism and modernism. The former group of scholars is united around their belief in the antiquity and ubiquity of nations: although individual nations appear and disappear in history, the nation as a concept and historical and social community is presumed to be eternal.[7] Modernists, on the other hand, view nations as a modern phenomenon brought into existence by modernization that swept Europe during the Enlightenment epoch.[8] Rapid urbanization, increased social mobility, the emergence of industrial society,[9] and the advent of print media and social communications contributed to the rise of nationalisms and nations.[10] Ethnic and cultural roots are less important for this perspective than cultural symbols used in the construction of the nation through the work of innovative individuals and elites. For modernists and others who subscribe to constructivist and instrumentalist views premised on the idea of nations as products of modernity, nationalism (as movement and ideology) serves as a conduit for the creation of nations and represents a modern aspiration of masses rather than an ancient longing. Conversely, those who regard nations as neither recent nor novel, but rather as phenomena that reflect continuity and recurrence across the time, the rise of a nationalism depends on the prior existence of a corresponding nation. In other words, for the adherents of primordialist thinking nationalism is a consequence, rather than a source and instrument of nations. Certainly, there has been a range of critiques applied to these dominant perspectives,[11] while some of the post-modern approaches portend the attenuation, if not complete irrelevance, of nation-states in the increasingly globalized world. There are also many perspectives on nations that represent a structural synthesis of the

objective (“real”) and subjective (spiritual, cultural) components of nationalism. As Reuel Hanks observes in his chapter, ethno-symbolism, in particular, represents a compromise between primordialist and modernist perspectives on identity formation as it emphasizes the significance of symbols, traditions, values, and myths that go into the making and preservation of nations, while recognizing that national identity is shaped by the political and economic forces in which it develops. Ethno-symbolists call for the greater appreciation of the rootedness of modern nations in the past memories and ethnic histories that give modern nationalism its power. Ethnonationalists, therefore, criticize modernists for ignoring la longue durée,[12] but they also reject the primordialists’ trap of implying that nations are an inevitable part of the “natural order.” For Anthony Smith and his fellow ethno-symbolists, nations are “dynamic purposive communities of actions” which, once created, have lives of their own and real consequences for people inhabiting them.[13] Conceptual debates within the field of nationalist studies persist not only across different approaches and paradigms, but also within them. Modernists and constructivists are, for example, divided over the question of determinants of the future of nations: why do some nations fail while others endure? For the proponents of ethno-symbolism, the strength of modern nations derives from the sinew of preexisting ethnie, a pre-national ethno-cultural group constituting the “fulcrum” of state and community.[14] Others have pointed out some empirically functioning solidarity groups based on alternative bases of unity and common aspirations. Territorial and kinship forms of identification, for example, have been recognized as functional equivalents to ethnic ones in producing national identity, national sentiment, and identification through the everyday experiences of close interactions and acts of reciprocity that cultivate “a sense of cultural intimacy” and develop “the bonds of mutual commitment and trust.”[15] Related to the sources of nations is the question about the elements, or “materials,” that go into the formation and preservation of national identity. While many scholars consider national identity to be fundamentally multi-dimensional, there is no consensus over the nature and relative importance of the various facets of national identity. Some stress “objective” and material elements, such as language, religion, historic territory, race, and material resources that give some national communities and movements a greater role and more political clout in the nation building process. Others ascribe greater importance to “subjective” factors, such as the “perception which group members themselves have of national category to which they belong and also strength of feeling which they evince in support of their unique identity.”[16] Ethno-symbolism examines a sense of identity in terms of constitutive symbolic resources—traditions, memories, values, myths, and symbols that compose the accumulated heritage of cultural units of population and determine the durability of ethnic groups.[17] Other perspectives that share the ethno-symbolists’ emphasis on creativity in conjuring nations into existence from the amalgamation of symbols and myths argue that nations may thrive on the sagas of the future, not only the myths of

their origin and descent. Furthermore, the everyday experiences of various solidarity networks can also serve as raw materials upon which abstract nationalist ideologies may be built.[18] What unites the studies assembled in this volume is their shared modern and post-modern understanding of nations, nationalisms, and identities as discursive, strategic, and tactical formations. They are viewed as “constructed” and “imagined,” and, therefore, continuously changing, but also fragmented, and contested. In the creation of nations, what matters more is the ability of nationalism as a national movement and ideology to channel individuals’ personal sentiments and commitments into the abstract and imagined community that is called the nation.[19]

NATIONS AND NATIONALISM IN HISTORY OF CENTRAL ASIA Throughout most of its history, Central Asia defied the expectations of the dominant paradigms on nations. In the twentieth century, Central Asian experiences with nation building offered one of the most striking examples of how a nation can arise without being brought into being by nationalism and in the absence of pre-national ethnic solidarity groups with clear self-consciousness and self-identification. The ethnosymbolist understandings of an ethnic group as a cohesive entity bound together by language, territory, and myths of shared descent also did not apply to the inhabitants of the region.[20] Prior to Islamization, Transoxiana, the region spanning the basins of the Amu Darya and Sur Darya rivers roughly corresponding to the present-day Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, southern Kyrgyzstan, and southwest Kazakhstan, resembled a rich and complex mosaic of sedentary and nomadic peoples, languages, cultures, and indigenous religious traditions. The Arab Islamization that began in the seventh century and lasted through the first part of the second millennium attenuated the strong differences between nomadic Turkic tribes and sedentary Indo-Europeans. However, it did not result in the homogenization of the people around common language, territory, or Islam. The shifting movements of the itinerant Turkic tribes continued to defy the logic of territorial, linguistic, and demographic community.[21] The same fortune awaited Mongols who controlled Transoxiana in thirteenth to fifteenth centuries. Although, the Mongol occupation resulted in the spread of Turkic languages and Islam among the conquered tribes, it also furthered the intermixing of populations and kept division between the predominantly agricultural and pastoral economic systems intact. This reinstatement of the boundaries between the nomadic and settled peoples also contributed to the developing of more crystalized identities centered around the creation of tribal confederations and loyalty to individual leaders, most of whom claimed their descent from Chinggis Khan.[22] Therefore, the political units that were formed in medieval Central Asia were not the direct expression of ethnic groups. They were built on dynasties whose tribal legitimacy transmogrified into dynastic legitimacy reinforced by the claims to religious authority.[23] The identities

of the populations that fell under the dynastical rule never coincided with administrative or cultural-linguistic boundaries but consisted of the mixture of such features as loyalty to a local leader or khanate, geographic affinity to a certain city or region, nomadic or sedentary lifestyle, membership in an Islamic community, and a sense of kinship.[24] The situation has not changed much during the occupation of Central Asia by Tsarist Russia. In order to control and govern the three emirates, which held Central Asia prior to the Russian conquest, Russia established a province of Turkestan that was transformed into several governorates and protectorates, along with the adjacent territories, at the end of the nineteenth century. The Russian administration of Turkestan was quite similar to the colonial strategies employed by the European powers and centered on administrative and military occupation of the region. The Tsarist administration eliminated the traditional political authorities but left the local elites intact. Except in the Kazakh steppe, there were no attempts at religious proselytizing or destruction of the traditional tribal institutions. The establishment of Russian settlements in the steppe brought sizable European populations in Central Asia and amplified the tapestry of cultures and ethnic groups in the region. The late nineteenth century saw the emergence of nascent nationalist movements led by the Jadid intelligentsia who began promoting identities transcending the narrow tribal and communal lines. Still, these movements were unable to rally mass support, and the new identities furthered by the young educated strata were not national, but supranational—pan-Turkic and pan-Islamic—in nature. It was not until the enactment of the Soviet national delimitation policy—a bold project of ethnic engineering and nation building—that the diverse and fragmented local identities were converted into nationalities modeled after the nineteenth-century European nations. Relying on the counsel of Soviet ethnographers and linguists and guided by considerations of economic and political rationality as well as interests and rivalries of indigenous elites, Moscow’s authorities created national republics named after a single ethnic group constituting the majority of their population.[25] The Turkmen Soviet Socialist Republic (SSR) and Uzbek SSR were created in 1924, the Tajik SSR was established in 1929, and Kazakh and Kirgiz SSRs were decreed in 1936. The final result was the map of Central Asia that we see today. Although they were largely artificial creations made up of the territorially and linguistically mixed groups, the new Central Asian nations were envisioned through the primordialist lens. The Soviet leadership considered nations as historically given entities characterized by territorial, linguistic, cultural, and economic unity.[26] This “nationalities formula” was deftly applied to the peoples of Central Asia. The national delimitation policy was designed to accomplish territorial unity. Language policy and new research into the ethnogenesis of ethnic groups was supposed to engender linguistic and cultural bonds. The establishment of state institutions and modern bureaucracies furnished these people with a model of ethno-national state. The problem with this process was not only the imposition of the new national markers on people who perceived their identities in different ways, but also the fact

that the various criteria used to define the nation pointed in different directions. Common language and lifestyle, for example, did not always correspond to the shared historical experiences, while culturally similar groups were dispersed across broad swathes of territory.[27] This, inevitably, led to the intermixing of ethnic groups especially along the new republican borders. In the 1930s, the Soviet nationalities policy changed its focus from building national identities within the Soviet Union’s republics to constructing a historically unprecedented Soviet nation on the platform of a vast multi-ethnic state. Many of the same strategies that were initially employed in the process of nation building in Central Asia were now applied for building a Soviet identity and fostering a sense of solidarity within the Soviet nation. A new language policy mandated by the Soviet government promoted Russian as the single language for all Soviet people. The histories of Soviet people were rewritten to highlight their common historical experiences and roots.[28] The Soviet historiographers and ethnographers continued emphasizing the primordialist character of the Central Asian and other nations. However, they also conjured an ethnic and cultural continuity between the ancient and medieval populations of the region and the newly created nations, in this way presenting the Soviet nationalities policy as the culmination of a long historical process.[29] The process of massive secularization and suppression of religious practices was another tool for instilling a uniform Soviet identity on the diverse populations. The major effect of the Soviet nationalities policy was the territorialization of the nations in the minds, attitudes, and behaviors of the constituent populations and a systematic ethnocization of their identities.[30] The nations in Central Asia were a modern creation, as contended by the modernists and ethno-symbolists. They were glued together with the functional administrative structures, modern mass media, and a system of education. Modern nations, however, were neither the results of a mobilization by local elites and intelligentsia nor the expression of the nationalist sentiment by the masses. In the case of the nationalities of the Soviet Union, the national consciousness that typically underpins the nation was nurtured afterwards, following the creation of political structures and territorial units. The Soviets’ ultimate goal was the fashioning of a Homo Sovieticus holding the greatest allegiance to the Soviet Union itself, while maintaining a secondary identity as a member of a constituent nationality. Yet, the construction and promotion of ethnicizied national identities as the foundation of the multi-ethnic nation-state was detrimental to a strictly political identity of the Soviet state.[31] Furthermore, the Soviet nationalism allowed the national republican leaders to further loyalty to ethnic identities and build national sub-systems as long as they remained loyal to the Kremlin.[32] This, along with the many trappings of modern nation-states bestowed by the Soviets on the Central Asian republics, contributed to the smooth transition of the Central Asian states to independence and entrenchment of power by the former Communist elites in the newly independent states.

NATIONALISMS AND IDENTITY CONSTRUCTION IN MODERN CENTRAL ASIA Following the unexpected collapse of the Soviet Union, the former republican Communist leaders who refashioned themselves into nationalists began cobbling together the new nations from a mélange of old and new markers of national identities—Muslim and atheist, Soviet and ethnic, Eastern and Western, modern and traditional, Turkic and Slav, and regional and clan. Many of the nation building challenges experienced by the Soviet regime resurfaced in the post-independence period. This part of the introduction zeros in on the construction of national identities in post-Soviet Central Asia. The first section reviews the new and complex ways in which nationalisms and identities manifest themselves in Central Asian states. The second section identifies the main actors and strategies employed in the processes of identity construction, while the last part addresses their implications for politics and societies in Central Asian states, especially with regard to the issues of governance, development, conflict, and cooperation.

Dimensions of Nationalisms and Identities in Central Asia In all Central Asian republics, the leading nation building efforts have been spearheaded by the “new” political elites who traded the old allegiances to the Soviet Union and Communist party for the new symbols of nationhood and national ideology informed by the new “mythistories.” As illustrated in Zhussipbek’s chapter in this volume, the new histories of the Central Asian nations prepared by the modern historiographers and political ideologues corroborate the ethnic majorities’ claims to the territory and spotlight the glorious past of the titular groups for legitimating the formation of exclusivist identities and for boosting their national pride. None of the Central Asian states succeeded in civic nation building despite their leadership’s expressed commitment to creating a “homeland” for both majority and minority groups and fashioning a national ideology that would suit their multi-ethnic populations.[33] As the chapter by Burkhanov and Sharipova demonstrates, even Kazakhstan, which official rhetoric has professed inclusive civil identity, has seen growth in Kazakh ethnic nationalism as evidenced in general preference of the Nazarbaev’s regime for prioritizing policies aimed at consolidating ethnic Kazakh identity. In all other Central Asian states, the political elites implemented a nation building policy based on ethnicity. The resultant ethnic nationalism was an expedient choice that allowed these leaders to furnish a sense of stability and continuity in ethnic majorities and cultivate unity around the common and powerful ethnic bonds. Structurally, ethnic nationalisms of Central Asian leaders have been similar to the Soviet social engineers’ approach to building a nation-state. The novelty of modern nationalisms in Central Asia lies in the downright strategic approach to the formation of new national identities, which are built with the goal of furnishing legitimacy to the extant political elites. Modern nation building in Central Asia, therefore, has been a

project directed by political leaders who use the ideology of ethnic nationalism to legitimize their power and strengthen the statecraft. Another important dimension of nationalism in post-independence Central Asia is the persistence of many primary sub-national and sub-ethnic identities that survived the Soviet administration and became the locus of modern national consciousness for the people in the region. When asked about their identity, Central Asians often name multiple identity markers: ethno-linguistic (Uzbek or Turkmen), tribal (Teke or Yomut), regional (Fergana or Khorezm), religious (Muslim or Christian), and socio-religious combining the accounts of religious origin with a superior socioeconomic status.[34] There can also be a combination of multiple identity referents. Today, kin, clan, descent, and other traditional solidarity groups perform important functions in the daily lives of ordinary Central Asians filling the niches left by the state. Denied meaningful political participation in public life, security, civil rights, and means of sustenance, the ordinary people seek help from the traditional institutions for getting a loan or improving housing conditions, resolving a family dispute or assisting with marriage and burial arrangements, and securing a job or seeking advancement in career and education.[35] The new nationalist ideologies do not resonate well with the multiple sub-ethnic identities that survived in the mental maps of the inhabitants of Central Asia.[36] Kirill Nourzhanov’s chapter, for example, addresses the challenge posed by Islam to dominant nationalist projects in Central Asia. The religious and other primary identifications for certain kin groups, tribes, regions, and clans are often layered up to constitute a complex individual identity, and they are more important to the peoples than ethnic categories imposed on them during the Soviet time and by modern political elites. Furthermore, with independence, international dimension of nationalism and identity construction has become more prominent in Central Asia. Drawn into the whirlpool of international politics, Central Asian governments have been compelled to think about ways of representing their countries to the outside world for procuring international support to governing regimes and securing their external legitimation. Termed as international “branding,” the new external images of Central Asian states project neither regional nor pan-Turkic identities, but convey unique national “brand” identities for capturing attention of foreign investors, diplomats, and tourists.[37] Through the work of embassies and politicians, censored publications, films, and cultural events, Central Asian states have been creating new narratives about their nations for international consumption. The Kazakh government, for example, has skillfully promoted the reputation of Kazakhstan as a strategic “bridge” between the West and the East, while Uzbekistan has chosen an image of a “cultural gem.”[38] Political elites of Central Asian states exploit these “brands” and representations, which are often linked to geographical and other assets of these states, in the ongoing geopolitical games over energy, resources, and regional influence, played by the national governments and political forces from outside the region.[39] Omelicheva’s chapter depicts the efforts of Turkmenistan’s government at building a positive

international image of Turkmenistan and illuminates the concept and practices of nation branding, while Laruelle’s chapter discusses transnational identity as one of the nation building repertoires in Kazakhstan.

Nationalisms’ Dynamics in Central Asia To revive traditional ethnic identities of the majority groups, all Central Asian governments relied on similar strategies and resources. Immediately after their independence, Central Asian republics reinstated the languages of the majority ethnic groups as the official state languages. Uzbek was recognized as the official language in the new constitution of Uzbekistan, Kazakh was upgraded to the status of official language in Kazakhstan, and so on. The maps of towns and regions were changed to reflect the replacement of Russian names of cities, streets, and landmarks with the names in the new state languages. To promote peoples’ attachment to new identities, the teams of national historiographers, ethnographers, and political ideologues rewrote national historical narratives to marry the history of their states to the history of titular nations based on the arbitrary manipulation of archaeological data and written sources. Elaborate myths of origin have been disseminated through educational channels, mass media, and print sources to authenticate a strong attachment of the ethno-national majorities to the present geographical locations and deny the historical rights to territory to other groups.[40] Chokobaeva’s chapter in this volume looks at the changing politics of memory in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan. Focusing on the contemporary interpretations of the 1916 anti-colonial uprising in Turkestan, Chokobaeva shows how the various definitions and contestation over the interpretation of the uprising offer a key to understanding national identity construction in independent Kyrgyzstan. The national unity has been fostered through the processes of appropriation and valorization of particular historical periods (e.g., the Samanid Empire in Tajikistan) and cultural personalities (e.g., Amir Timur in Uzbekistan and Manas in Kyrgyzstan), rehabilitation of national “heroes” condemned as reactionaries during the Soviet time, and denunciation of historical injustices inflicted on these nations by the Tsarist and Soviet administrations. The new national narratives often glorify certain traits of character attributed to the nation’s ancestors and exemplified in the modern titular populations. The history of Uzbekistan, for example, emphasizes the key features of national character of the Uzbeks allegedly embodied by Tamerlane. These features include honor, hospitality, love for independence, bravery, and solidarity. Ethnic Kazakhs and Kyrgyz, too, have been portrayed as proud and free nomads. The Kazakh government made considerable investments in popularization of this nomadic tradition through the film industry, modern architecture, and monumental art.[41] The new state symbols manufactured by the Central Asian governments also reflect the ethnic iconography of dominant ethnic groups. The blue color of Kazakhstan’s state banner is allegedly related to the history of early medieval Turks. The golden eagle soaring under the sun represents an important symbol of the

nomads. Together with the elements of traditional Kazakh ornaments appearing on a side of the flag, the national banner pays greater homage to the Kazakhs than any other ethnic group inhabiting the republic. A crown of the traditional Kyrgyz yurt, a nomadic felt tent, appears on the flag of Kyrgyzstan, surrounded by the forty rays of sun representing the forty Kyrgyz tribes united against the Mongols by the epic hero Manas. The national symbols of other Central Asian republics celebrate the national histories and traditions of the titular ethnic groups foregrounded in the new national identities.[42] All Central Asian states witnessed a momentous revival of Islam. The “Islamic renaissance” has become both a potent force for creating unity in the multi-ethnic and poly-confessional states, and a strategy for purging the vestiges of colonial rule and Slavic culture. To forge national unity and identity of their republics, Central Asian leadership has promoted and supported official interpretations of Islam presented as authentic, inherently apolitical, and harmonizing with the Central Asian cultural heritage. Many faithful led by the homegrown or foreign Islamist movements espouse the ideas about the universality of Islamic faith and, therefore, view national religious varieties as an impediment to the reintegration of Central Asia into the world of Muslims.[43] There are also Islamist movements that resigned from a struggle for supranational Muslim community and embraced a kind of Islamic nationalism.[44] These Islamic groups and activists strive to shape nationalism in terms of Islam by promoting ideas about the spiritual revival of Muslims in states of Central Asia, restoring the basics of Islam in state and society, and bringing Islamic knowledge and Islamic values back into public life. Two chapters in this volume—by Radford and Nourzhanov—examine the role of Islam in Central Asian nationalisms and nation building. If Nourzhanov’s chapter illuminates the role of the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan in challenging the official nation building discourse with a counternarrative featuring an alternative interpretation of Islam and its place in national identity of Tajikistan, Radford’s chapter highlights the ways in which new (Christian) and old (Islamic) dimensions of Kyrgyz identity are instrumental in forging innovative manifestations of Central Asian identity. By exploring a trend of religious conversion to Protestant Christianity in Kyrgyzstan, the chapter reveals new dimensions of identity construction taking place in this republic as Kyrgyz Christians build upon the traditional aspects of Kyrgyz identity while blending them with the non-traditional ones.

Consequences of Modern Nationalisms in Central Asia In the history of nations, nationalism has played variable roles. At times, it has been a productive force diminishing religious and communal discord and fostering unity and solidarity. In other periods and circumstances, it has been a destructive movement amplifying national divisions and causing confrontation, violence, and further fragmentation of the nation. Unfortunately, in Central Asia, ethnic nationalisms propagated by the ruling elites have strengthened polarity rather than unity in the

ethnically, linguistically, and religiously diverse populations. While the majority groups attained a sense of liberation from Russian oppression and belonging to the nation, ethnic minorities that were either completely excluded from the nation building process or circumscribed in the formation of new national ideologies refused to embrace the ethnicized nation-state. This situation inevitably engendered inter-ethnic mistrust, anxiety, and strain threatening to escalate into a manifest conflict. The majority ethnic groups who became aware of their dominant status in the republics began distancing themselves from other ethnic groups and also treating minorities unjustly. That is why civic nationalism premised on the idea that a society’s collective identity should be separated from unique ethnic markers has been suggested as the only way forward.[45] This type of nationalism is called “civic” because it conceives of the nation as a “community of equal, rights-bearing citizens” united in their adherence to a set of political values and allegiance to a territorially defined political entity, which is state.[46] The types of nationalisms unfolding in Central Asia and national identities promoted by the leadership of these states have had far-reaching international implications. The politics of identity is one of the powerful factors affecting states’ foreign policies and their positive or negative orientation toward other states, as discussed in Zhussipbek’s chapter. In Central Asia, the new dimensions of the republics’ identity branding have been shaping their attitudes toward and relations with their former “master” Russia, but also European countries, United States, China, and Muslim states. The ethnicized national identities have been a major obstacle to regional cooperation. The enduring rivalry between Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan over regional leadership and acrimonious relationships between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, in addition to several lesser axes of inter-ethnic and inter-state tensions, continue to inhibit regional security bonds. Since concerns with the power legitimization and strengthening of the governing regimes have been the primary drivers of nationalisms and ethnicized identity construction in Central Asia, the undertaken efforts at regional integration and cooperation in various issue-areas have been weighted against this aim. The Central Asian governments have been willing to partake in those regional projects that bore a promise of strengthening their domestic influence and regional and international stature.

OUTLINE OF THE VOLUME The volume begins with two chapters—one authored by Marlene Laruelle and another one co-authored by Aziz Burkhanov and Dina Sharipova—discussing the evolution of Kazakhstan’s post-Soviet national identity and the role of civic and ethnic nationalism in the republic’s nation building. Since its independence in 1991, Kazakhstan has sought to present itself as an archetype of the “friendship between peoples” and “dialogue between cultures and religions.” This narrative, which emphasizes Kazakhstan’s civic identity, has become an important element of its nation branding

for the international community. While both chapters emphasize the political nature of Kazakhstani identity narratives, that is, they target different audiences (domestic Kazakhs, Russian minority, the powerful Russian neighbor internationally, or a broader international audience), they stress different aspects of identity making. Laruelle’s The Three Repertoires of State Identity in Kazakhstan: Kazakhness, Kazakhstanness and Transnationalism examines three co-existing and competing narratives or “repertoires” of national identity: one that defines Kazakhstan as the political entity of the Kazakh nation and its historical accomplishment; another one presenting Kazakhstan as a multinational nation at the crossroad of the Eurasian continent; and the third one portraying Kazakhstan as a transnational country integrated into the world. Laruelle explores how these identities communicate amongst themselves, their nodes of competition and the spaces of interaction between them. In Kazakhstan’s Civic-National Identity: Ambiguous Policies and Points of Resistance, Bukhanov and Sharipova focus on the increasingly ethnic (Kazakh) conception of national identity based on the neo-Soviet “big family” approach, where Russians are replaced with ethnic Kazakhs. In modern Kazakhstan, ethnic affiliation is institutionalized through the inclusion of ethnic identifiers on the domestic ID cards, similarly to how it was done in the Soviet Union. All in all, an ethnic-based national identity is presented as part of the legacy of the Soviet nationality policy and ambiguous and contradictory identity and language policies of independent Kazakhstan. The following two chapters by Aminat Chokobaeva and David Radford explore the new dimensions and dynamics of national identity construction in Kyrgyzstan. In Born for Misery and Woe: National Memory and the 1916 Great Revolt in Kyrgyzstan, Chokobaeva examines how national identity of the post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan is articulated in the new historiography of this independent republic. Paying special attention to the contemporary interpretations of the 1916 anti-colonial uprising in Central Asia, the chapter demonstrates how historical memory has been politicized in modern Kyrgyzstan. The post-Soviet historiography of the revolt became a key site of reconciling the nationalist project on the one hand and the continuing dependency on the Soviet historical imagination on the other. The chapter explores the tensions inherent in the new national memory of Kyrgyzstan and how the presentation of historical events exposes cultural hierarchies and ambiguities involved in Kyrgyzstan’s nation-building. Sunni Islam has been the major religion of the peoples of Central Asia. Suppressed during the Soviet time, Islam returned to all post-Soviet Central Asian states in a process variously labeled as “Islamic revival” or “Islamic renaissance.” Both the new Central Asian regimes and religious authorities have encouraged the renewal of Islamic identity by reinforcing a strong association between religion and ethnicity. As a result, many Central Asian Muslims continue viewing their Muslimness as indispensible to their ethnic identity. What has been overlooked is the growth of the new religious identities, including Christian, among indigenous Muslim communities. Radford’s chapter, Does Being Kyrgyz Mean Being A Muslim? Emergence of New

Ethno-Religious Identities in Kyrgyzstan, examines these new trends of religious conversion to Protestant Christianity in Kyrgyzstan and attempts to explain the change of faith that challenges core issues of family, community, and national and religious identity in this republic. Relying on in-depth interviews with the converts, this chapter identifies the multiple layers of the Kyrgyz identity and discourses, which simultaneously challenge, affirm, and bring innovation to what it means to be Kyrgyz. Because Islam has come to be viewed as part of each Central Asian republic’s national heritage, the new governments have been eager to embrace Islam, albeit a narrowly construed “official” variety of the religion, as part of their nation building projects. In doing so, they faced a dilemma of simultaneously promoting and coopting indigenous Muslim sentiments into their vision of a cultural identity without creating a threat to their legitimacy. The government of Tajikistan’s president Emomali Rahmon is no different from other Central Asian regimes in its attempt to incorporate Islam in its strategy of nation building. What makes Tajikistan unique among the Central Asian republics is that it has the only legally functioning Islamist party in Central Asia. Kirill Nourzhanov’s chapter, Nation-Building and Political Islam in PostSoviet Tajikistan, critically assesses the “secular-religious compromise” in Tajikistan’s nation-building project. The chapter examines the constantly changing official discourse on the role of religion in national consolidation and the mechanisms of, and limits to, the politics of compromise between secular and religious authorities during the past fifteen years in Tajikistan. It illuminates the counter-narrative produced by the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan (IRPT) in response to the dominant nationalist narrative, and explores the social and political context in which particular discursive strategies were engendered by the government and the IRPT. Shifting focus from the internal dimensions of nation building to the external aspects of national identity, the following chapter Eye on the Image: Painting an International Face of Turkmenistan by Mariya Omelicheva surveys the efforts of the Turkmen leadership at constructing an international image of Turkmenistan. The Berdymukhamedov government has tried to better Turkmenistan’s reputation as one of the most repressive countries in the world to attract foreign investors and put an end to the cycle of international isolation. The process of image making has become a means of public diplomacy for the Turkmen elite and embassy officials who seek to raise Turkmenistan’s prestige, primarily in international business circles and within the global political community. To examine international image building by Turkmenistan, Omelicheva utilizes the concept of nation branding, which refers to the process of constructing a favorable state image and disseminating it to the rest of the world with the goal of forming or changing external perceptions of the nation. The chapter demonstrates how the Turkmen government’s presentations of the state foreign policy, Turkmenistan’s economic potential, tourist attractions, and ongoing political reforms jointly make up Turkmenistan’s international image. The chapter contributed by Reuel R. Hanks, Identity Theft: Ethnosymbolism, Autochthonism, and Aryanism in Uzbek and Tajik National Narratives, approaches the volume’s framework of “dimensions, dynamics and directions” through the

theoretical lens of ethno-symbolism. As discussed earlier, ethnosymbolism is an approach to identity formation that purports to represent a compromise between primordialism and modernism. Anthony D. Smith and other supporters of the theory argue that national identity formation may be accelerated or enhanced by modernization or the advent of print capitalism, but also requires the longue duree of collective, corporate memory. In the wake of independence, both Uzbekistan and Tajikistan have utilized to a large degree an ethnosymbolic strategy to solidify distinctive national identities. Simultaneously, Uzbek and Tajik scholars and government officials have contested the other’s parameters and definition of identity, engaging in a vigorous competition involving historical legitimacy and ethnic superiority. This “battle of identities” offers a useful context to examine and assess both the dynamism of identity, and the theoretical applicability of ethno-symbolism. As the title of the concluding chapter, Exclusivist Identities in Central Asia: Implications for Regional Cooperation and Stability, by Galym Zhussipbek suggests its focus is on the exclusivist discourses of national identity adopted by the Central Asian political and intellectual elites and their impact on regional cooperation and stability. The chapter links the formation of exclusivist identities with the pervasive Central Asian orientalism defined by the claims to autochthony and appeals to cultural superiority of one ethnic group over others. The Central Asian orientalism is a product of Soviet social engineering that destroyed the classic sedentary and nomadic Central Asian society featuring mechanisms and forms of identifications that transcended ethnic markers. Ultimately, the chapter shows, the establishment of exclusivist identities has become a root source of inter-ethnic and inter-state problems.

NOTES 1. Central Asia, as a concept, has had a variable meaning in the administrativepolitical practice and research. During the Soviet period, Central Asia has appeared under several other labels, such as “Inner Asia” and “Middle Asia,” and comprised the four republics of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. This area corresponds broadly speaking to the ancient Transoxiana, the territory located in the basins of the Amu Darya and the Sur Darya rivers (Olivier Roy, The New Central Asia: Geopolitics and the Birth of Nations (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2007), 1). Given its proximity to and cultural and historical interconnectedness with other Central Asian republics, Kazakhstan was frequently included in the region. From a cultural standpoint, the boundaries of Central Asia are often extended to encompass the northwest parts of Pakistan, the western territory of China concomitant with the autonomous region of Xinjiang, and Afghanistan. In the context of this volume, Central Asia is used in reference to the five Central Asian republics of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. 2. Roy, The New Central Asia, 161. 3. Anthony D. Smith, Nationalism: Theory, Ideology, History (Cambridge, UK: Polity

Press, 2001). 4. Smith, Nationalism: Theory, Ideology, History, 5. 5. John Breuilly, Nationalism and the State (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1993), 406. The leading scholars of nationalism—Benedict Anderson, Eric Hobsbawm, Ernest Gellner, Ernest Renan, Anthony Smith, and others—have all emphasized one or more of the following elements of nationalism—ideas/ideology, sentiments, and politics (see, for example, Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993), 1; Eric Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality. 24th ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 9). 6. For more information, see Umut Özkirimli, Theories of Nationalism: A Critical Introduction. 2nd ed. (New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010). 7. See, for example, Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Cultures (London: Fontana, 1973), 259-60; Adrian Hastings, The Construction of Nationhood: Ethnicity, Religion and Nationalism. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Hugh Seton-Watson, Nations and States (London: Metheun, 1977). The literature on nationalism differentiates between primordialism and perennialism: while the former places emphasis on the naturalness of nations and their rootedness in human biology, the latter references nation’s roots in distant history. 8. Gellner, Nations and Nationalism. 9. Tom Nairn, The Break-up of Britain: Crisis and Neo-Nationalism (London: Verso, 1997). 10. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities (London: Verso, 1983); Karl Deutsch, Nationalism and Social Communications, 2nd ed. (New York, NY: MIT Press, 1966). 11. See, for example, Montserrat Guibernau and John Hutchinson, eds. History and National Destiny: Ethnosymbolism and Its Critics (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2004). 12. Smith, Nationalism: Theory, Ideology, History. 13. Ibid., 13. 14. Guibernau and Hutchinson, History and National Destiny, 2. 15. Thomas H. Eriksen, “Place, Kinship and the Case for Non-Ethnic Nations,” in History and National Destiny: Ethnosymbolism and Its Critics, ed. Montserrat Guibernau and John Hutchinson (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2004), 52–53. 16. Vladimir Fedorenko, Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism (Washington, D.C.: Rethink Institute, 2012), 2–4. 17. Smith, Nationalism: Theory, Ideology, History, 15–16 18. Eriksen, “Place, Kinship and the Case for Non-Ethnic Nations,” 52–53. 19. Ibid. 20. Adrienne Edgar, “Identities, Communities, and Nations in Central Asia: A Historical Perspective,” presented at a panel discussion, University of California, Berkeley, October 29, 2001, accessed July 1, 2014, iseees.berkeley.edu/articles/edgar_20011029.pdf. 21. Roy, The New Central Asia, 5–6.

22. Beatrice F. Manz, “Historical Background,” in Central Asia in Historical Perspective, ed. Beatrice F. Manz (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994), 7. 23. Roy, The New Central Asia, 7. 24. Fedorenko, Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism, 4–5. 25. Anatoly M. Khazanov, “Nations and Nationalism in Central Asia,” in The SAGE Handbook of Nations and Nationalism, ed. Gerard Delanty and Krishan Kumar (London: SAGE Publications, 2006), 450–60. 26. Manz, “Historical Background,” 15. 27. Ibid. 28. Fedorenko, Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism. 29. Khazanov, “Nations and Nationalism in Central Asia.” 30. Roy, The New Central Asia. 31. Ibid. 32. Willem Van Schendel and Erik J. Zürcher, “Introduction: Opting Out, Opting In, Exclusion and Assimilation: States and Nations in the Twentieth Century,” in Identity Politics in Central Asia and the Muslim World: Nationalism, Ethnicity and Labour in the Twentieth Century, ed. Willem van Schendel and Erik-Jan Zürcher (London and New York: I.B Tauris, 2001), 1–12. 33. Fedorenko, Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism. 34. Roy, The New Central Asia, 18 35. Khazanov, “Nations and Nationalism in Central Asia”; Roy, The New Central Asia. 36. Edgar, “Identities, Communities, and Nations in Central Asia.” 37. Erica Marat, “Nation Branding in Central Asia: A New Campaign to Present Ideas about the State and the Nation,” Europe-Asia Studies 61, no. 7 (2009): 1123–36. 38. Ibid. 39. Farkhod Tolipov, “Nationalism as a Geopolitical Phenomenon: The Central Asian Case,” Central Asian Survey 20, no. 2 (2001): 183–94. 40. Khazanov, “Nations and Nationalism in Central Asia.” 41. Fedorenko, Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism. 42. Ibid. 43. Sèbastien Peyrouse, “Islam in Central Asia: National Specificities and Postsoviet Globalisation,” Religion, State and Society 35, no. 3 (2007): 245–60. 44. Olivier Roy, “Islamic Movement in Central Asia: Between Nationalism and Internationalism,” Presentation at the Caspian Studies Program and the Harvard Forum for Central Asian Studies, April 4, 2000, accessed June 13, 2013, belfercenter.ksg.harvard.edu/publication/12767/islamic_movement_in_central_asia.html 45. Fedorenko, Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism, 22. 46. Michael Ignatieff, Blood and Belonging: Journeys into the New Nationalism (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1995).

Chapter 1

The Three Discursive Paradigms of State Identity in Kazakhstan Marlene Laruelle Kazakhness, Kazakhstanness, and Transnationalism All the states that emerged from the former Soviet Union have been studied for their state-building efforts and nationhood status and for the way they have transformed Soviet nationalities policy. These transformations, although specific in each case, also have shared trajectories.[1] In this patchwork, Kazakhstan constitutes a unique case for several reasons. First, upon the fall of the Soviet Union, the republic was in the singular position of having a titular nationality that was in the minority (6.5 million or 39.7 percent of Kazakhstan’s total population).[2] It was home to the largest Russian minority after Ukraine (6.2 million or 37.8 percent),[3] and its population was distributed in disjointed clusters, with the so-called European minorities residing in the north and in the west of the country, a largely Uzbek southwest, and central regions populated almost entirely by ethnic Kazakhs, albeit with very low population density. Second, Kazakhstan had developed the most sophisticated version of the post-Soviet “friendship of peoples” theory, based on the notion of a Kazakhstani nation, and a Eurasianist ideology, which was promptly turned into a domestic and an international brand, at a higher degree than Russia’s discourse about its federal nature. Third, Kazakhstan is the post-Soviet state that best internalized the criteria of a “globalized” nation, shrewdly playing up its transnational potential and unabashedly embracing architectural modernity, largely borrowing the Gulf countries’ model. Kazakhstan is thus a textbook case in terms of building a hybrid state identity. It has been able to present several identities—with some of them already initiated in the Soviet period[4]—in accordance with the situation and with its interlocutors: Kazakhstan defines itself simultaneously as Kazakh, that is, the political entity of the Kazakh nation and its historical accomplishment, as Kazakhstani, that is, as a multiethnic nation at the crossroads of the Eurasian continent, and as a transnational country integrated into world trends. How do these three discourses communicate among themselves? How are they adapted to the existence of alternative discourses? What nodes of competition and spaces of interaction exist between them? These are the questions to which this chapter will offer a reply.

THE PARADIGM OF KAZAKHNESS The first discursive paradigm deployed by Kazakhstan is that of Kazakhness, which has been concretized in two main channels: in state-run narratives about the country’s identity and in policies of ethnic repatriation and promotion of the titular language. This

paradigm is, however, far from being the most clear-cut; on the contrary, the modality of its propagation is contradictory and tentative.

Kazakhness as a Narrative of the State about Itself The first manifestation of the Kazakhness paradigm is expressed through official texts. In the “Declaration of Sovereignty of the Kazakh SSR” of October 1990 the reference to Kazakhness is flaunted: the republic “bears the responsibility for the Kazakh nation” and the “rebirth and development of a specific culture, traditions, the language, and the reinforcing of national pride of the Kazakh nation and the other nationalities living in Kazakhstan constitutes one of the main missions of the statehood of the republic of Kazakhstan.”[5] The 1995 Constitution, takes up this formulation, stipulating that the creation of the state is being carried out on indigenous Kazakh land: “We, the people of Kazakhstan, united by a common historic fate, creating a state on the indigenous Kazakh land.”[6] This status, of Kazakhs being the first among equals, is stated symbolically, as the country officially proscribes all ethnic-based discrimination. Kazakhness is equally cultivated in presidential speeches. President Nursultan Nazarbayev’s 1999 work V Potoke Istorii is an ode to the Kazakh identity of Kazakhstan. In it, he insists on the Kazakhness of Kazakhstan as a legal, historical accomplishment recognized by the international community: “A legal, constitutional, and international foundation has been given to the fact that all Kazakhstan is the historico-genetic territory of the Kazakh nation.”[7] This preeminence is not supposed to reduce the rights of non-Kazakhs; rather, it urges them to recognize the necessity of internalizing values identified as specifically Kazakh. “The culture of the Kazakhs must be seriously assimilated by the representatives of the other ethnoi, just as the Kazakhs, in their own time, earnestly studied Russian culture.”[8] The central argument of legitimacy used in presidential discourses is that of historical precedence: Kazakhs were present on the territory of present-day Kazakhstan before the Russians came to settle it, particularly throughout the entirety of the steppe. Any historiography based on the idea that there was any free space available for settlement pertains to a colonial untruth.[9] This line of argument was confirmed in the 1996 “Concept for the Formation of a State Identity of the Republic of Kazakhstan,” which proclaimed that as Kazakhs do not possess statehood anywhere else in the world, Kazakhstan is a national, Kazakh state.[10] The president also conveys Kazakhness as a driving force in building Kazakhstanness: “The formation of Kazakhstani citizenry (grazhdanstvennost’) (. . .) is impossible without the transition to a higher level of spiritual development of the Kazakh nation”[11] since “Kazakh culture has to be objectively the kernel around which will grow (. . .) the cultural community of all the Kazakhstani people.”[12] This ambivalent dynamic between both notions is a direct legacy of the paradoxes of the Soviet “friendship of peoples” ideology, in which the Russian nation constituted the

backbone of the Soviet integration and the link connecting all other identities to each other.[13] Kazakhness would thus constitute a factor of horizontal integration, among all the ethnos,’ and of vertical integration, between the state and its citizens, hence allegedly not in contradiction with Kazakhstanness. Kazakhness is also displayed in other state-constructed paradigms. The state emblem includes a shanyrak, the round aperture at the top of a yurt, and many images drawn from a nomadic heritage (for instance, the eagle) are used in official iconography and semantics. The Golden Man, a Scythian warrior discovered in a kurgan at Issyk, became the symbol of the country’s independence and of its nomadic past, and it is one of the most reproduced artifacts. Renaming streets in honor of Kazakh historical figures has made it possible to build a distinctly ethnicized national pantheon. Kazakhifying city names (by restoring their Kazakh names or creating new Kazakh names from scratch) helps to territorialize the nation and therefore legitimize its borders.[14] The Kazakh Khanate from the fifteenth century is often invoked as the main political entity confirming the Kazakhness of the contemporary state. Statesponsored cinema and the state-run film company, Kazakhfilm, have also elaborated an ethnocentric narrative on the national history. Films such as Nomad (Kochevnik) (2005), Mustafai Shokai (2008), The Sky of My Childhood (Nebo Moego Detstva) (2011), and Warriors of the Steppe (Myn Bala) (2012) aim to instill pride in Kazakh heroism throughout the centuries by recreating epic battles against Djungars as well as against Russians.[15] Kazakhness also appears in the architecture of the new capital city, Astana. Although originally a Russian and later a Soviet city, Astana’s Kazakhness was confirmed by archeological digs that unearthed traces of an ancient nomad settlement.[16] References to Islamic motifs and Central Asian blue ceramics are incorporated into the general design of the new urban architecture. The masterpiece of the city’s left bank, the Baditerek tower, which symbolizes the country’s independence, is inspired by a Kazakh folktale and features a tree with a golden orb atop it. The Khan Shatyr building, a giant and very elite-oriented entertainment center, offers an architectural interpretation of the traditional Kazakh yurt.[17] The Kazakhness of Kazakhstan is far from being a topic of the past, linked solely to the first years of post-Soviet state-building. On the contrary, it is a subject of the future, continually updated, and occupying a growing share of public debate. Between 2008 and 2010, preparations for a Doctrine of National Unity revived the question of the preeminence of Kazakhness over Kazakhstanness. In launching this project, the regime surely did not realize it was opening such a “Pandora’s box.” The first draft released by the presidential administration aroused very strong reactions among nationalist groups and members of the Kazakh-speaking intelligentsia, who threatened to go on a hunger strike and rapidly published an alternative document.[18] After several months of debates, Nazarbayev approved a new National Unity Doctrine in 2010. This version, radically different from the original draft, integrated over 500 proposals from nationalist leaders, political parties, and academics.

Although the draft of the text contained the term “Kazakhstani” no less than seventeen times, it was totally absent from the final text, which uses the term “Kazakh” in both an ethnic and a civic sense.[19] The final text proclaims, “In new historical conditions, the Kazakh people, having given its proud name to the country, has the responsibility of a historical mission to become the consolidating center of the unity of the Nation (konsolidiruiushchii tsentr ob’’edineniia Natsii).”[20] The text proclaims in several locations that Kazakh identity and its values should become the consensual basis of the whole society. It proclaims that one of the state’s missions is the “promotion, preservation and development of the ethnic, cultural, and linguistic identity of Kazakh ethnic groups.”[21]

Kazakhness and the Regime Issue Kazakhstan’s fundamental ambivalence in deploying narratives about Kazakhness can largely be explained by events from the early years of perestroika and the birth conditions of the republic. In the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic, the Soviet order and Moscow’s legitimacy in supervising local affairs were undermined on the basis of national Kazakh motives. The December 1986 riots symbolized this seamlessly: during the Zheltoksan (“December” in Kazakh) riots in Almaty the student crowds protested against the nomination of a Russian in a position that had been traditionally given to a Kazakh, seeing this as an unacceptable act of humiliation on Moscow’s part.[22] The Zheltoksan events deeply marked the political culture of the following two decades. Nursultan Nazarbayev, prime minister of the Soviet Kazakh republic under Kunayev since 1984, came to power in this context. Although he was obliged to take a stand against the riots because they undermined a decision from Moscow, ultimately he came out as the winner by being named party leader on June 1989, and then Chairman of the Supreme Soviet in 1990. From the outset, then, he had to manage a contradiction of being both an opponent and a product of Zheltoksan. This ambivalence toward the national question continued in the first years of Kazakhstan’s independence. The nationalist parties that formed in 1989-1990— Zheltoksan, Alash, and Azat—positioned themselves as rivals to the local communist elites.[23] From his beginnings as president of independent Kazakhstan, Nazarbayev thus conflated political opposition and nationalism: apart from the ethnic minorities that protested his policies, particularly the Russians,[24] the Kazakh nationalists were Nazarbayev’s most fervent opponents. This situation continues today: antiNazarbayev narratives are mostly borne by the younger generation of Kazakh political activists, who use social media and embrace increasingly nationalistic themes, in particular against Russia’s policy of a Eurasian Union.[25] As a rival ideology, Kazakhness is seen as a potential enemy of the current regime. Another element explaining the ambivalence of Kazakhstan’s authorities toward the Kazakhness paradigm is linked to the latter’s relationship to Islam. The authorities, especially the president, are very wary of conflating Islam and national

identity. As analyzed by Maria Omelicheva, “President Nazarbayev opted for the superordinate concepts of ‘religion’ and ‘faith’ as the substitutes for Islam,” and he has stressed the role of religious values in general as a source of unity of the nation.[26]

Kazakhness as a Policy The Kazakhness ideology rarely shapes the country’s public policies, with two main exceptions: the policy of repatriating ethnic Kazakhs from abroad[27] and the primacy of Kazakh as the state language. About five million persons identified as Kazakhs live abroad.[28] The repatriation policy was initiated in November 1991, just before the collapse of the Soviet Union, and enabled the relocation of about sixty thousand persons, mostly from the neighboring Soviet republics. The first Law on Immigration, adopted in 1992, stated that ethnic Kazakhs are potential volunteers wanting to “return to their historical homeland (vozvrashchaiushchiesia na istoricheskuiu rodinu).”[29] The term “homeland” here is primarily symbolic, since the majority of these people have always lived outside of Kazakhstan’s borders, even though a certain number of them are descendants of Kazakhs who fled Soviet persecution in the 1920s and 1930s.[30] A second Law on Migration in 1997 provides a more structured legal framework for repatriation and distributes related tasks and duties to various ministries and law-enforcement institutions. Since 1992, about 900,000 Oralmans (“repatriates” in Kazakh), mostly from Uzbekistan and Mongolia, have been repatriated, or have emigrated to Kazakhstan on their own.[31] Contrary to a similar policy launched by Russia, which accepts anyone who considers Russia to be his or her homeland, without ethnic distinction, Kazakh law defines Oralmans exclusively on ethnic grounds. Some texts define Oralman as “a person of indigenous nationality” (litso korennoi natsional’ nosti),[32] or as “any foreigner or stateless person with Kazakh ethnicity who resided outside the boundaries of Kazakhstan on the day of independence and who entered Kazakhstan in order to settle on a permanent basis.”[33] The Russians, Uzbeks, or Uyghurs who would like to benefit from this policy and who could prove that they had ancestors living on the current territory of Kazakhstan cannot take advantage of it.[34] For a certain time, the Oralmans also enjoyed an exemption allowing them to keep dual citizenship, but the authorities abolished this in 1995 to avoid being accused of ethnic discrimination. Repatriation policy has two aims: first, to overcome the disadvantageous demographic position of ethnic Kazakhs within Kazakhstan, and, second, to rebalance the geographical distribution of Kazakhs within the national boundaries.[35] But this state-run process of the ethnic Kazakhization of Kazakhstan has come up against several social problems for Oralmans: high-level unemployment, difficulties in schooling children, a lack of integration mechanisms, a lack of familiarity with Soviet cultural codes, and poor knowledge of the Russian language.[36] The level of

xenophobia toward Oralmans among the Kazakh/Kazakhstani population, which the authorities prefer to conceal from the public, indicates the difficulties they are encountering in trying to strengthen artificially the Kazakhness of Kazakhstan. The second Kazakhification policy implemented by the state relates to language policy. Beginning with perestroika, language was established as the symbol of a nation under threat and was at the heart of demands made by nationalist circles.[37] Declaring Kazakh the state language was one of the first symbolic measures taken to express the sovereignty of the then still Soviet Republic of Kazakhstan in 1989. Throughout two decades of independence, the authorities have multiplied the number of laws and decrees that attempt to enforce the state status of the Kazakh language (with Russian retaining its status as a language of communication),[38] but with great difficulties, since it is difficult to change linguistic habits in such a short time. The state made knowledge of Kazakh mandatory for entering the state administration and for receiving public funding such as student grants. It increased the proportion of broadcasting in Kazakh, and it funds the development of Internet sites that use the state language.[39] However, the prestige of Kazakh-language schools is still considered lower than the Russian-language ones, minorities continue to be (self)excluded from the Kazakh-speaking environment, and many of the elite still have difficulties navigating their careers and everyday lives in Kazakh. Nonetheless, the Kazakhification of Kazakhstan’s public space is well underway. [40] Minorities have largely accepted the reality that their not knowing Kazakh curbs their professional advancement in certain sectors. Russian-speaking Kazakh elites feel guilty for their lack of fluency in Kazakh and tend to apologize for this situation, a sign that they have internalized the idea that mastering the titular language is the obvious cultural criterion expected of them not only by the state, but also by their fellow citizens. Added to this is the difficult question of Kazakhness being a discriminatory selection tool in the job market. Minorities tend to complain about their exclusion by unofficial ethnic criteria; however, there are other elements that are difficult to measure statistically that come into play here: the minorities privilege working in the private sector since it enables a greater amount of transnational interaction and provides the opportunity, if necessary, to get ready to emigrate. Also, many jobs are gained through clientelist patterns, whereby selection is made through family or regional networks, and this gives unintentional priority to the titular nationality over minorities.

THE KAZAKHSTANNESS PARADIGM Kazakhstanness constitutes the second paradigm of state identity. The concept emerged with the country’s independence, in accordance with the Russian model of rossiiskii. The idea is to maintain the difference, inherited from the schemes of Soviet nationalities policy, between citizenship and nationality/ethnic identification, which is still recorded in Kazakhstan’s passports. This paradigm is deployed as much on the domestic scene as on the international arena around the theme of Kazakhstan as the

harmonious homeland of various ethnic groups and religions. It is elaborated in parallel with the notion of Eurasianism, which makes it possible to smoothly articulate foreign policy and domestic policy.

The Rhetoric of Multi-nationality The Soviet-style celebration of multi-nationalism has been kept alive by Kazakhstan’s authorities more than in any other former Soviet republic. Official discourse vaunts the harmony in which its more than 130 nationalities live, thanks to the often-quoted “hospitality” of the native Kazakh people on their own soil. This multinationality is alleged to have engendered a supra-ethnic civic identity. The articulation between multi-nationality and civic identity is not, however, an obvious given: citizens can feel free to display their ethnic culture without identifying with a supra-ethnic identity.[41] The Assembly of the People (previously the Assembly of Peoples, in the plural), created by presidential decree on March 1, 1995, embodies Kazakhstan’s multinational character. In terminology that is still very Soviet, the Assembly is presented as the “laboratory of the friendship of the peoples.”[42] It represents all the minority cultural groups, from the smallest (Assyrians) to the most numerous (Russians), oversees about eight hundred associations representing almost fifty ethnic groups, and finances about 170 weekend schools where twenty-three native languages are taught, several minority-language newspapers, and Kazakh, Russian, German, Korean, Uzbek, and Uyghur national theaters.[43] Debates on politicized issues, such as minority representation in political life and in the higher echelons of the economy, are absent from the preoccupations of the Assembly, which is dominated by issues related to folkloric activities, such as days of Slavic culture, Armenian music, Tatar chorales, Korean cuisine, and so on.[44] The Assembly of the People thus fulfills several missions: it institutionalizes a recognized national diversity within the international and the domestic community; it supports small and depoliticized minorities that are satisfied with the cultural rights they are given; and it marginalizes minorities with a political potential like Russians, Uyghurs, or Uzbeks. A similar, albeit less elaborated, strategy has been developed to present Kazakhstan as a harmonious place for religions. It is symbolized by the Congress of World and Traditional Religions and based on the fashionable model of the “dialogue of civilizations” or “dialogue of religions.” The first four Congresses took place in 2003, 2006, 2009, and 2012 at the Palace of Peace and Accord in Astana, a Norman Foster construction built in the form of a pyramid, the four sides of which are supposed to symbolize an opening to the world’s four cardinal points.[45] The Congresses are an occasion to brand Kazakhstan abroad and at home by inviting foreign heads of state and high-level diplomats and religious figures and to regulate religious issues around a consensual narrative. The Congress valorizes so-called traditional religions, a term recognized in much of post-Soviet legislation on matters of

religious rights. The Kazakhstani definition, however, is broader than that of its Russian neighbor and recognizes Islam (Sunni), Christianity (Orthodoxy above all, but also Catholicism and Lutheranism), Buddhism, Judaism, Daoism, Shintoism, and Hinduism. The adjective “traditional” makes it possible to exclude movements that cause problems, from proselytizing Protestant denominations to Islamic groups that do not recognize the spiritual authority of official institutions.[46]

Eurasianism as a Foreign Policy and a State Ideology This Kazakhstanness paradigm is intrinsically linked to that of Eurasianism. Both are articulated in the following manner: multi-nationality on the domestic scene is only a reflection of what Kazakhstan is in its regional environment, that is, the “crossroads” of Eurasia, a meeting point of Russian/European, Asian/Chinese, and Islamic civilizations. Eurasianism thus enables the harmonious association of domestic policy and foreign policy into something close to a state ideology. As stated by Nazarbayev, “Kazakhstan is a unique state in Asia where European and Asian roots are intertwined. [ . . . ] The combination of different cultures and traditions allows us to absorb what is best in European and in Asian culture.”[47] Identifying Kazakhstan as “the heart of Eurasia” has come to be a kind of official branding slogan for the country, and Nazarbayev refers to it in the title of his book, V Serdtse Evrazii (2005), which he published to substantiate the foundation of a new capital city. This “heart of Eurasia” notion is represented in a sculpture in one of Astana’s parks (Zhastar Ayabagy) through the very explicit metaphor of a heart whose central red point suggests Kazakhstan. But Kazakhstan’s “heart of Eurasia” status is above all embodied in the country’s foreign policy choices and the building of a so-called multi-vector foreign policy. In the first years of independence Nazarbayev never concealed his nostalgia for the Soviet construct. In 1994, recognizing the failure of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) to become a real platform for regional cooperation, he proposed the creation of a Eurasian Union.[48] The project was never implemented. At the time, it met with a rather disapproving response both from Yeltsin’s Russia and from neighboring countries, which were then busy trying to build new alliances and move away from their Soviet past. Nevertheless, throughout the 1990s, Kazakhstan and its president have constantly stood out on the post-Soviet scene thanks to their commitment to regional integration.[49] Hence, in 2000, one of Nazarbayev’s greatest victories was the launch of the Eurasian Economic Community (including Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan; Uzbekistan later joined and then left), one of the few postSoviet regional mechanisms that produced some concrete results. The country then enthusiastically supported Russian President Vladimir Putin’s idea, announced in 2010, for a new Eurasian Union, and Nazarbayev was probably personally pleased to see Putin recognizing that the Union’s original stimulus came from Kazakhstan, not from Russia. Kazakhstan became a member of the Customs Union with Russia and

Belarus a year later, and then ratified the Eurasian Economic Union treaty in May 2014. However, this Eurasianist stance is not unambiguous. Astana sees itself, over the long term, not as a loyal second to Russia, but as an equal partner. The reluctance of Kazakhstan’s political establishment vis-à-vis Russia’s reintegration project, already evident with the Customs Union, which penalizes more than it benefits the Kazakhstani economy,[50] became more acute with the 2014 Ukrainian crisis and the annexation of Crimea. Even at the highest state level, it seems there is now a desire to halt the process of integration: Nazarbayev himself has insisted on the purely economic nature of the project and has put the brakes on discussions about supranational institutions or a joint currency.[51] This Eurasianist stance is more than just a pragmatic choice of partnering economically and strategically with Russia. It was also instrumental in trying to elaborate a national ideology for domestic consumption. In 1996, Astana’s Pedagogical Institute was transformed into a national state university named after the Eurasianist historian Lev Gumilev (1912–1992). In 2004 the university opened the Center for Eurasian Studies whose goal is “to define a conception of Eurasianism that would respond to Kazakhstan’s national interests; to develop a geopolitical methodology for the historical, socio-economic, and ideological interpretation of the development of contemporary civilization; and to advise state, educational, and academic organizations on Eurasianism.”[52] Works published in Kazakhstan under the Eurasianist label proclaim Nazarbayev’s Eurasianism to be the third and final stage in the development of that ideology. After the founding fathers in the interwar and Lev Gumilev, Kazakhstan’s president, they say, has established a definitive understanding of Eurasia, finally moving away from political philosophy to begin the implementation of Eurasianist ideas in practice.[53] Nazarbayev’s Eurasianism is thus celebrated as adapting an old concept to the new conditions of the twenty-first century, and as serving the direct interests of the country.[54] Still, the points of difference between the Kazakhness and the Kazakhstanness paradigms are less obvious than they seem at first glance. Many dividing lines between them are blurry. First, Kazakhstan’s Eurasianism, while condemning the Russo-centrism of Eurasianist founding fathers and of contemporary Russian neoEurasianists, often develops a parallel narrative that is very much Kazakh-centered. Notwithstanding some rare exceptions, Kazakh Eurasianism is limited to a rhetorical exultation of its status as a civilizational crossroads and, in reality, develops a historiography that shares much with the supporters of Kazakhness, especially in its denunciation of Russia as a colonial power. Second, Eurasianism in Kazakhstan is also linked to a kind of Turkic universalism, mostly inspired by Olzhas Suleymenov (1936), whose ideological circumvolutions, and in particular his statement about Turkic nomadic populations as the origin of the main ancient civilizations, draw him close to Kazakh nationalist themes.[55]

THE TRANSNATIONALISM PARADIGM A third paradigm emerged as early as the mid-1990s, but it became Kazakhstan’s main discursive currency in the 2000s, especially in the second half of the decade, boosted by the financial manna flowing from oil redistribution. This third paradigm can be defined as transnationalism, that is, the idea that interconnectivity and globalization alter the nation-state and its integration into the world community. This paradigm, which is elaborated for both domestic and international audiences, is intrinsically linked to the regime’s legitimacy and purposely conflates the state and the regime. In the regime’s logic of “soft authoritarianism,”[56] Kazakhstan’s international prestige is supposed to strengthen political legitimacy at home. Thus, this paradigm is intimately linked to Nazarbayev personally and is endowed with certain characteristics of the cult of personality: the president embodies the unity of the nation beyond ethnic differences and political divisions, but also its different temporalities (past, present, future).

The Transnational Narrative of the Nation The embodiment—in the literal sense—of this third paradigm is the new capital city, Astana. The change of capital, announced in 1994 and accomplished in 1997, has often been interpreted as a gesture in favor of the country’s Kazakhness: the capital of the Soviet era, Almaty, is mostly Russian, and fears of a secession by the north of the country prompted the move of the capital to a more geographically central place on the national territory.[57] However, Nazarbayev’s project goes much further: the point is to anchor Kazakhstan within the international community and to plot a bright future for it, embodied by the futuristic appearance of the new capital. Soviet references are not totally absent: Nazarbayev has often mentioned reprising the Virgin Lands campaign of the 1950s (since Astana is built on the site of the small town of Akmola, center of the Virgin Lands campaign under Khrushchev), and he has partly been inspired by Soviet projects to build new towns from scratch in challenging climates. But Astana is above all a showcase of Kazakhstan’s desired modernity, with the idea that traditional dichotomies (north/south, urban/rural) would be overcome by the capital and therefore, by metaphorical extension, by the country as a whole. Astana’s architecture, in particular the left bank, features monumental avenues and buildings (the Presidential Palace, Baiterek, Atameken, the Pyramid, the Central Mosque, the National Museum, etc.) that are supposed to erase inequalities between social groups, display a globalized consumerism, and project Kazakhstan on the “path of progress.”[58] Although building Astana was Nazarbayev’s pet project, this third paradigm is expressed in many other ways. Some are discursive by essence, such as Kazakhstan-2030, a programmatic document released in 1997 that set forth goals for the country’s achievements by 2030 and the paths to succeed in them. Its strong

utopian motives are “directed at transforming the country into one of the safest, most stable, ecologically sustained states of the world with a dynamically developing economy.”[59] The exercise was repeated in 2012 with the Strategy 2050 paper, which aims to make Kazakhstan one of the thirty most advanced countries in the world by 2050.[60] The presidential address, titled “Kazakhstan’s way—2050: common aims, common interests, common future” is distinctly forward-looking and little mention is made of the common past. Kazakhstan’s long-range planning is unique in the postSoviet space. It reflects the authorities’ sense of “making the best” of the country’s potential while postponing genuine political reform, and their understanding of the need to go beyond mineral resources to build more sustainable economic niches.[61] In reality, the country’s main evolution probably lies in the key role played by international experts: the 2050 Strategy was commissioned as a commercial branding project, a kind of SWOT analysis capable of identifying the country’s weaknesses and strengths. Based on the 2050 Strategy goals, the third paradigm displays other criteria associated with modernity, such as nation branding.[62] The government and its various ministerial branches, as well as its embassies, finance PR campaigns to capture the attention of the world community, especially business circles. These can be similar to commercials, such as, for example, buying pages in major English language newspapers to vaunt the country’s merits or trying to counter the negative images of the blockbuster film Borat (2006).[63] But these actions can be far more sophisticated and resemble genuine electoral campaigns in the international arena. This was the case, for example, when Kazakhstan sought the presidency of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe in 2010, buoyed by its creation of a roadmap called the “Path to Europe,” to consolidate economic relations with major European companies. It reproduced a similar campaign, promoting its Islamic identity, to bid for the presidency of the Islamic Cooperation Organization the following year and invited Islamic financial institutions to invest in the country. This second level of nation branding is today being reactivated with Kazakhstan’s application for non-permanent seat on the UN Security Council in 2016, which would enable the country to valorize its steady engagement, since independence, in favor of multilateralism, and its contribution to many UN regional frameworks. Added to this is the Kazakh authorities’ very early cognizance that the country’s status as a denuclearized power—since 1994—offered untapped potential for a unique “nuclear diplomacy.” While there is growing tension between nuclear-weapon states that promote nonproliferation and non-nuclear-weapon states that emphasize disarmament, Kazakhstan is uniquely attuned to both sets of values thanks to its past as a victim of Soviet nuclear experiments and its ambitious civilian nuclear program (the country is the world’s largest uranium producer). Lastly, a third strategy of nation branding has a long-term horizon. Far from being limited to PR actions, these strategies are supposed to transform the country from within by concentrating state funding and political energy on specific sectors. Two

examples demonstrate the broad range of these strategies. First, the government decided to invest in sports in accordance with the ideas that a great nation is a sporting nation and that the soft power linked to sport makes it possible to overcome international criticisms concerning the nature of the regime, as was also shown in the case of socialist nations during the Cold War and China today.[64] This decision paid off with the visibility gained by Team Astana in cycling. Second, Kazakhstan is to host the World Expo 2017 (this is the first time this event has been held in a former communist country), which will give unprecedented visibility to the country for a year. Kazakhstan thereby hopes to obtain the recognition that it believes it deserves, but also to position itself on the radar of new business circles so that it can escape from its lot as a raw-materials producer. The aim is to stimulate innovation, particularly green economies, by hosting companies that specialize in new technologies, launching technological parks, and renewing state support for the hard and applied sciences.[65] A likely next step in this nation branding campaign may be proposing that Kazakhstan join the circle of MINT economies (Mexico, Indonesia, Nigeria, and Turkey), an acronym designating the presently booming economies apt to follow the BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa). Other projects embodying this third paradigm are based on the idea that Kazakhstan needs to invest in its human resources. The Bolashak program, established way back in 1993, was the first to enable the country to cultivate a new, foreign-trained elite. This direction was followed in 2000 with the establishment of the Foundation of the first President of Kazakhstan, which offers a broad range of cultural, educational, and scholarly activities targeting youth and promoting patriotism. It also hosts one of the country’s “think tanks,” the Institute for World and Economic Policy (IWEP).[66] At the end of the 2000s the authorities expanded initiatives in the human capital sector to create an elite corps of technicians and engineers. They created new educational institutions, often distinctly directed toward the applied sciences and geared to industrial needs. Nazarbayev University, established in Astana in 2009, is the flagship of Kazakhstan’s educational reform, following an internationalized Anglo-Saxon model that is also replicated in the Gulf countries.[67] It is accompanied by a Nazarbayev Endowment Fund, financed by the main Kazakhstani energy and mining firms. The university is completed by Nazarbayev Intellectual Schools, a network of twenty schools (though only six were operational at the moment of writing), focusing on the hard sciences and biology, with a trilingual teaching system in Kazakh, Russian, and English. These new educational institutions have established a two-track education system that is directly dependent on the presidential administration and which has been criticized for siphoning funding from the Ministry of Education and the rest of the educational system.[68] Lastly, in 2012 the Nazarbayev Center was launched as a “multifunctional research and educational public institution dedicated to advancing research and broadening the information available on the history of statehood of Kazakhstan.”[69]

Transnationalism or “Nazarbayevism”? It is striking to observe that this transnationalism paradigm is intimately linked with the figure of Nazarbayev himself. Is transnationalism a synonym for a kind of “Nazarbayevism”? All recent initiatives related to improving Kazakhstan’s human capital, from universities to schools, have been named after him. Astana Day, which celebrates the new capital, was fixed for July 6, the date of the president’s birthday. The city also is home to a Museum of the First President of Kazakhstan, describing his early life in the Soviet Union as retroactively building the path to the country’s independence and exhibiting myriad awards, honors, and gifts that the president has received from abroad. It is said that Nazarbayev rewrote the lyrics of the national anthem himself. At Baiterek, citizens can place their own hands into the bronze handprints of the president and make a wish, and the same handprint is incorporated into the design of banknotes. Nazarbayev has become the subject of films, plays, and even children’s fairytales, in accordance with a model that combines the Soviet tradition of youth upbringing via the lives of the most famous men, and Oriental traditions of considering the sultan’s personal destiny as encapsulating the country’s own destiny. Last but not least, in 2010, both Houses of Parliament voted to endow Nazarbayev with the pompous title, “leader of the nation.”[70] The awarding of this title can be interpreted as the growing megalomania of an aging leader. However, the real stakes reside elsewhere: at issue is the preparation for the inevitable presidential succession. In a context in which the mechanisms of succession have not been made explicit, the title “leader of the nation” makes it possible to grant Nazarbayev a privileged status should he decide to resign from the presidency. The bill grants him this title for life and, importantly, protects him, his family, and their property, from civic or criminal prosecution. The aim is thus to ensure immunity for his assets (following the model that Vladimir Putin set up for Boris Yeltsin in 1999), but also the privilege of having the moral high ground. In daily propaganda, this term, “leader of the nation” (Elbasy in Kazakh), has not taken root, thus suggesting that the primary motive was securing immunity, not instituting a veritable personality cult. How should we interpret the role of this paradoxical personality cult in the different paradigms of state identity? Obviously, Nazarbayev’s personality is closely bound to the three paradigms, but it is more noticeable in the third than in the first two. The personality of “leader of the nation” Nazarbayev is largely absent from the narratives of Kazakhness. As the latter has been partly structured as an ideology of protest against the current regime, Kazakhness is, in a sense, “anti-Nazarbayevism.” This is not the case for the Kazakhstanness paradigm: both the rhetoric of multinationality and the Eurasianist ideology have been instrumental in Nazarbayev’s effort to craft state identity at home and abroad and his own, personal, legitimacy as head of state. Why does Nazarbayev’s cult appear so plainly in this third paradigm? Several explanations can be put forward. First, the transnational paradigm is endowed with a

particular personal value for Nazarbayev, whose international ambition has often been noted by local and foreign observers. He thinks of himself as Kazakhstan’s best export brand, a status he acquired upon the country’s independence thanks to his own role in the negotiations linked to denuclearization. Second, the more “denationalized” the paradigm is (transitioning from Kazakhness to Kazakhstanness and to transnationalism), the more it needs to be embodied by a figure that metaphorically represents the nation. The state narrative about Kazakhstan as a transnationalized country is not going against nationhood but is an integral part of it, and the president’s personality encapsulates this connection. Third, Nazarbayev has sought to bequeath his country a legacy concerning its destiny for the twenty-first century. The fact that the deputies from Nur Otan, a pro-presidential party that proposed the bill on the title of “leader of the nation,” compared him to George Washington, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, and Mahatma Gandhi[71] should not be simply dismissed with a smile. It reveals a strategy to depict Nazarbayev as having “given birth” to a new nation-state (Washington), brought an old people into modernity on the ruins of an empire and secularized state structures and the public space (Kemal), and contributed to peace at home and abroad (Gandhi). These three explanations are probably all true and do not contradict each other. But I argue here for a fourth explanation. The difference between the first two paradigms and the third, which enlightens this over-investment in Nazarbayev’s personality, is the following: Kazakhness and Kazakhstanness are, in fact, selfreferencing. Their only role is a kind of self-celebration of the nation’s identity, regardless of how it is described, that is, as an ethnic or as a civic nation. They are turned inward toward themselves and their own constituencies. On the other hand, the third paradigm transcends the mere identity of the nation by offering a content that decenters it from itself: it is supposed to show a path of development that can be adopted by other countries and which is not linked by its own essence to the Kazakh/stani nation. It is likely that the aging Nazarbayev hopes to establish a state ideology and legacy that will sustain the country after he is gone. He seeks to shape his country’s future in such a way that it goes beyond the nation itself and inspires a path of development that could be called “Nazarbayevism,” following the example of “Kemalism.”[72] While most visibly embodied by the presidential figure, this third paradigm is thus best understood as a depoliticizing instrument: the political decisions made are presented as engaging the nation in developing a civilization, not keeping a political regime in power.

CONCLUSION Kazakhstan is a fascinating case of state-identity crafting, where at least three paradigms coexist. They live in parallel spaces and interact rarely. All three target different audiences: the first aims mostly at the Kazakh audience; the second at the minorities, the Russian neighbor, and other post-Soviet states; while the third is

probably the most inclusive, as it targets a broader, internationalized audience, as well as a domestic one. In speaking to the domestic audience the third paradigm hopes to go beyond the Kazakhness/Kazakhstanness dichotomy by de-ethnicizing the narrative on the nation and trying to transform it into a path of development. The regime thus shows a great ability to switch between different ideological codes. This flexibility is a sign of the regime’s pragmatism and of the essentially instrumental character of these official ideologies. One might wonder about the medium-term survival of these three parallel paradigms: Will one discursively overwrite the others? It is likely that the Kazakhstanness paradigm will ultimately vanish: demographically speaking, Slavic minorities are bound to make up an increasingly reduced part of the population,[73] and there are few chances that a movement contesting the Kazakhness of Kazakhstan will emerge in the years ahead. The minorities may see their ethnic rights preserved in a folkloric way in an increasingly Kazakh-centered and Kazakh-speaking state: the engine of consensus remains the country’s economic success and its ability to deliver the growth of living standards it promises. Furthermore, the Eurasian Union project has an uncertain future, and it is increasingly contested by the new generation of the Kazakh elite. In the long run, Putin’s Eurasian Union and the 2014 Ukrainian crisis may have killed the Eurasianist ideology in Kazakhstan. Kazakhstanness will therefore probably by subsumed in the larger transnationalism paradigm, with multinationality being only an historical legacy and Eurasianism only the regional version of Kazakhstan’s path to transnationalism. The most challenging articulation is still to be created between the first and the third paradigms, especially once the country enters the post-Nazarbayev era. How will the transnationalism paradigm evolve without the “leader of the nation”? Will the state identity narrative be suddenly decoupled from regime legitimacy? Can a “postNazarbayev” Nazarbayevism be built? This period may open the door to some identity reconfigurations among the paradigms. We may also witness the birth of new paradigms, for instance, an Islamic one, whose relation with the first one can be competitive or complementary. However, the core of the evolutions is probably also contained only in the Kazakhness paradigm, which tends to reproduce narratives elaborated during the perestroika years and has been struggling to modernize itself, but which is the most in flux. Kazakhness is the only paradigm that is not totally controlled by the regime and that is also crafted by political forces and social groups whose legitimacy precisely challenges the regime’s. Renegotiating the balance among Kazakhness as a contesting political force, transnationalism as a political project based on the country’s economic achievements, and the “Nazarbayevism” of the postNazarbayev regime will, in part, outline the future of the country and its state identity.

NOTES 1. I am very grateful to Peter Rollberg, Alexander Diener, and Mariya Omelicheva for their comments on the text.

2. Natsional’nyi Sostav Naseleniia SSSR po Dannym Vsesoiuznoi Perepisi Naseleniia 1989 g. (Moscow: Goskomstat SSSR, 1991), demoscope.ru/weekly/ssp/sng_nac_89.php. 3. Sebastien Peyrouse, “Nationhood and the Minority Question in Central Asia. The Russians in Kazakhstan,” Europe-Asia Studies 59, no. 3 (2007): 481–501. 4. Diana T. Kudaibergenova, “‘Imagining Community’ in Soviet Kazakhstan. An Historical Analysis of Narrative on Nationalism in Kazakh-Soviet literature,” Nationalities Papers 41, no. 5 (2013): 839–54. 5. O Deklaratsii o Gosudarstvennom Suverenitete Respubliki Kazakhstan. Postanovlenie Verkhovnogo Soveta Kazakhskoi SSR ot 25ogo oktiabria 1990, adilet.zan.kz/rus/docs/B900001700. 6. The Constitution of the Republic of Kazakhstan, www.akorda.kz/en/category/konstituciya. 7. N. A. Nazarbaev, V Potoke Istorii (Almaty: Amatura, 1999), 195. 8. Ibid., 124. 9. Shonin Anacker, “Geographies of Power in Nazarbayev’s Astana,” Eurasian Geography and Economics 45 , no. 7 (2004 ): 515–33. 10. Pal Kolsto, “Anticipating Demographic Superiority: Kazakh Thinking on Integration and Nation Building,” Europe-Asia Studies 50, no. 1 (1998): 51–69. 11. “Ob osnovnykh napravleniiakj deiatel’nosti Assamblei po realizatsii gosudarstvennoi natsional’noi politiki v svete trebovanii ‘Strategii Assamblei narodov Kazakhstana,’” (Pavlodar, Pavlodarskaia Assembleia Narodov Kazakhstana, 2002), 32. 12. “Dukhovno-Kul’turnoe Razvitie Naroda—Osnova Ukrepleniia Gosudarstvennoi Nezavisimosti Kazakhstana,” 7aia sessiia Assembleia Narodov Kazakhstan (Astana: Assembleia narodov Kazakhstana, 2001): 59. 13. Lowell Tillet, The Great Friendship. Soviet Historians on the Non-Russian Nationalities (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1969). 14. Alexander Diener, “National Territory and the Reconstruction of History in Kazakhstan,” Eurasian Geography and Economics 43, no. 7 (2002): 565–83. 15. Rico Isaacs, “Nomads, Warriors and Bureaucrats: Nation-Building and Film in Post-Soviet Kazakhstan,” Nationalities Papers, March 2014. 16. More in Anacker, “Geographies of Power in Nazarbayev’s Astana.” 17. Bernhard Köppen, “The Production of a New Eurasian Capital on the Kazakh Steppe: Architecture, Urban Design, and Identity in Astana,” Nationalities Papers 41, no. 4 (2013): 599. 18. Joanna Lillis, “Astana Follows Thorny Path toward National Unity,” Eurasianet, April 29, 2010, www.eurasianet.org/node/60952. 19. Mentioned by Alexander Diener, “Imagining Kazakhstani-stan: Considerations of Nationalizing Social Space and Socializing National Space,” Conference Kazakhstan beyond Economic Success. Exploring Social and Cultural Changes in Eurasia, Central Asia Program and the Uppsala Center for Russian and Eurasian Studies (UCRS), Uppsala University, Sweden, June 13–14, 2014.

20. “Doktrina natsional’nogo edinstva Kazakhstana,” Inform.kz, April 29, 2010, www.inform.kz/rus/article/2263364. 21. Ibid. 22. Taras Kuzio, “Nationalist riots in Kazakhstan,” Central Asian Survey 7, no. 4 (1988): 79–100. See also for later events, Yacoov Ro’i, “Central Asian Riots and Disturbances, 1989–1990: Causes and Context,” Central Asian Survey 10, no. 3 (1991): 21–54. 23. See Vladimir Babak, Demian Vaisman, and Aryeh Wasserman, eds, Political Organization in Central Asia and Azerbaijan, 99–104, 107–13, and 175–78. See also Azamat Sarsembayev, “Imagined Communities: Kazak Nationalism and Kazakification in the 1990s,” Central Asian Survey 18, no. 3 (1999): 319–346. 24. On the political activism of the Russian minorities, see Marlene Laruelle and Sebastien Peyrouse, Les Russes du Kazakhstan. Identités nationales et nouveaux Etats dans l’espace post-soviétique (Paris: Maisonneuve & Larose/IFEAC, 2004). 25. Joanna Lillis, “Kazakhstan: Landmark Eurasian Union Treaty Signed Amid Protests and Arrests,” Eurasianet, May 29, 2014, www.eurasianet.org/node/68416. 26. Maria Omelicheva, “Islam in Kazakhstan: A Survey of Trends and Conditions for Securitization,” Central Asia Survey 30, no. 2 (2011): 243–56. 27. Alexander Diner, “Kazakhstan’s Kin-State Diaspora: Settlement Planning and the Oralman Dilemma,” Europe Asia Studies 57, no. 2 (2005): 327–48. 28. Ibid., 15. 29. Status of Oralmans in Kazakhstan. Overview (Almaty: UNDP, 2006), 13. 30. Cummings, “The Kazakhs: Demographics, Diasporas, and ‘Return.’” 31. Michelle Witte, “Proposed Changes to Oralman Legislation to Relax Some Settlement Rules,” Astana Times, July 28, 2014, www.astanatimes.com/2014/07/proposed-changes-oralman-legislation-relaxsettlement-rules/. 32. Cummings, “The Kazakhs: Demographics, Diasporas, and ‘Return,’” 142. 33. Law of the Republic of Kazakhstan, December 13, 1997 No. 204-1 on Population Migration, www.refworld.org/docid/3ae6b5740.html. 34. Olivier Ferrando, “The Central Asian States and Their Co-Ethnics from Abroad: Diaspora Policies and Repatriation Programs,” in Migration and Social Upheaval as the Face of Globalization in Central Asia, ed. Marlene Laruelle (London: Brill, 2013), 239–62. 35. Status of Oralmans in Kazakhstan, 13. 36. On the case of the Oralmans from Mongolia, see Alexander Diener, One Homeland or Two?: Nationalization and Transnationalization of Mongolia’s Kazakhs (Palo Alto, CA and Washington DC: Stanford University Press and Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2009), and more specifically, same author, “Problematic Integration of Mongolian Kazakh Return Migrants in Kazakhstan,” Eurasian Geography and Economics 46, no. 6 (2005): 465–78. 37. On the Kazakhstan’s identity construction and the place of language in it, see B. Dave, Kazakhstan. Ethnicity, Language and Power (London: Routledge, 2007).

38. Bhavna Dave, “ National Revival in Kazakhstan: Language Shift and Identity Change,” Post-Soviet Affairs 12, no. 1 (1996): 51–72. 39. William Fierman, “Language and Identity in Kazakhstan: Formulations in Policy Documents 1987–1997,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies 31, no. 2 (1998): 171–86. 40. Juldyz Smagulova, “Language Policies of Kazakhization and Their Influence on Language Attitudes and Use,” International Journal of Bilingual Education and Bilingualism 11, no. 3–4 (2008): 440–75. 41. Diener, “Imagining Kazakhstani-stan.” 42. Oleg Dymov, Teplo kazakhstanskoi zemli (Almaty: Arys, 1999), 39. 43. See the website of the Assembly for more detailed information, www.assembly.kz. 44. Author’s interviews with different national cultural centers in Almaty, June 2009. 45. See the Congress website, www.religions-congress.org. 46. On the religious situation see U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom 2014 Annual Report, www.uscirf.gov/about-uscirf. 47. Nursultan Nazarbaev, Evraziiskii soiuz: idei, praktika, perspektivy (Moscow: Fond sodeistviia razvitiiu sotsial’nykh i politicheskikh nauk, 1997), 27. 48. Ibid., 38–50. 49. Henry E. Hale, “Cause without a Rebel: Kazakhstan’s Unionist Nationalism in the USSR and CIS,” Nationalities Papers 37, no. 1 (2009): 1–32. 50. Marlene Laruelle, Russian Eurasianism. An Ideology of Empire (Washington D.C.: Woodrow Wilson Press/Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 107–44. 51. Nargis Kassenova, “Kazakhstan and Eurasian Economic Integration: Quick Start, Mixed Results and Uncertain Future,” Paris: IFRI, Series Russie. NEI. Vision No. 14, November 2012; “Eurasian Economic Union is no Sparkling Snowman: Nazarbayev,” Tengri News, May 3, 2014, en.tengrinews.kz/politics_sub/Eurasian-Economic-Unionis-no-sparkling-snowman-Na zarbayev-253247/. 52. See the website www.emu.kz/research/eurasia/mission.html. 53. S. Bulekbaev and E. Unnarbaev, “Evraziistvo Kak Ideologiia Gosudarstvennosti,” Evraziiskoe Soobshchestvo, no. 3 (2001): 5–12; E. Saudanbekova, “Evraziistvo Gumileva i Klassicheskoe Russkoe Evraziistvo,” Mysl’ (1997): 30–34. 54. Sergey Seliverstov, Kazakhstan, Rossiia, Turtsiia: Po Stranitsam Eevraziiskikh Idei XIX –XXI Vekov (Almaty: Baspalar yui, 2009), 314. 55. M. Shaikhutdinov, “A. Dugin i Imperskaia Modifikatsiia Evraziiskoi Idei,” Evraziiskoe Soobshchestvo, no. 2 (2002): 26–32 and M. Shaikhutdinov, “Imperskie Proekty Geopoliticheskoi Identichnosti Rossii,” Evraziiskoe soobshchestvo, no. 3 (2003): 5–14. 56. The concept has been developed by Edward Schatz in “The Soft Authoritarian Tool Kit: Agenda-Setting Power in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan,” Comparative Politics 41, no. 2 (2009): 203–22. 57. Richard L. Wolfel, “North to Astana: Nationalistic Motives for the Movement of the

Kazakh(stani) Capital,” Nationalities Papers 30, no. 3 (2002): 485–506. 58. See Natalie Koch, “The ‘Heart’ of Eurasia? Kazakhstan’s Centrally-Located Capital City,” Central Asian Survey 32, no. 2 (2013): 134–47; Koch, “The Monumental and the Miniature: Imagining ‘Modernity’ in Astana,” Social and Cultural Geography 11, no. 8 (2010): 769-87. 59. “The Strategy for Development of the Republic of Kazakhstan until the Year 2030,” Akorda.kz, 1997, www.akorda.kz/en/category/gos_programmi_razvitiya. 60. See the website devoted to the Kazakhstan 2050 strategy at strategy2050.kz/en/. 61. Aktoty Aitzhanova, Johannes F. Linn, Shigeo Katsu, and Vladislav Yezhov, eds., Kazakhstan 2050: Toward a Modern Society for All (Oxford : Oxford University Press, 2014). See also Richard Weitz, “Kazakhstan’s National Development Strategies. An Assessment,” Central Asia Policy Brief, no.14, December 2013. 62. Simon Anholt, Competitive Identity: The New Brand Management for Nations, Cities and Regions (New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2007). Applied to Central Asia, see Erica Marat, “Nation Branding in Central Asia: A New Campaign to Present Ideas about the State and the Nation,” Europe-Asia Studies 61, no. 7 (2009): 1123–36. 63. Robert A. Saunders, “In Defence of Kazakshilik: Kazakhstan’s War on Sacha Baron Cohen,” Identities 14, no. 3 (2007): 225–55. 64. Natalie Koch, “Sport and Soft Authoritarian Nation-Building,” Political Geography 32 (2013): 41–52. 65. See the expo website, www.expo2017astana.com/en/. 66. See the Foundation website, www.presidentfoundation.kz. 67. See the University website, nu.edu.kz. 68. See Joshua Kucera, “Can a Homegrown University in Authoritarian Kazakhstan Incubate Reform?” Al Jazeera, June 20, 2014. 69. See the Center website, www.nazarbayevcenter.kz/o-centre/. 70. “Kazakh President Nazarbayev Granted ‘Leader of Nation’ Title,” RIA Novosti, June 15, 2010, en.ria.ru/world/20100615/159425123.html. 71. Sayara Ma-Shan, “Nursultan Nazarbayev, Kazakh ‘Leader of Nation,’ Hatches Succession Scheme,” The Telegraph, May 13, 2010, www.telegraph.co.uk/expat/expatnews/7718896/Nursultan-Nazarbayev-Kazakhleader-of-nation-hatches-succession-scheme.html. 72. Erden Nazarov, Kazakhstan Posle . . . (Almaty: Vektor, 2013). 73. Russians constitute less than one quarter of the population now. Their emigration is continuing, even if at a slower pace, and the aging of this part of the population is far more rapid than that of ethnic Kazakhs.

Chapter 2

Kazakhstan’s Civic-National Identity Aziz Burkhanov and Dina Sharipova Ambiguous Policies and Points of Resistance This chapter focuses on the emergence of the civic national identity in post-1991 Kazakhstan. The ethnically diverse population of Kazakhstan presented a great challenge for a new regime when the former Union republic became an independent state in the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991. Kazakhstan’s leadership had to establish a new identity policy upon which it could build its legitimacy, both satisfying nationalist groups looking for more radical changes and calming the fears of the massive Slavic population who had long lived in the republic. Among possible identity-building options of Kazakhstan’s regime was to either build a civic nation as an undifferentiated national identity or to build an ethnic nation-state with a larger supra-group identity on the foundation of many groups. We argue that after more than twenty years of independence, civic national identity in Kazakhstan has not emerged and a primordialist vision of identity not only still largely dominates in the country’s identity policies and discourses but also reproduces itself among younger audiences. We explore the “points of resistance” and argue that this situation is due to both the legacy of the Soviet nationality policy and ambiguous and contradictory identity and language policies of independent Kazakhstan.

POST-1991 KAZAKHSTAN’S IDENTITY CHALLENGES AND LEGACY OF THE SOVIET NATIONALITY POLICY Under the Soviet regime Kazakhstan faced significant migration flows of Russians and other Slavic peoples from the rest of the USSR, strong cultural Russification, and limited republic’s rights in the Soviet federal system to question or to alter these policies. Hardly surprising, at the end of the Soviet era, when the union republics experienced an unparalleled rise of national consciousness and started to question existing policies by demonstrating nationalist feelings, Kazakhstan possessed very limited nationalist movements and was literally the last republic to stay in the Soviet Union. The Soviet authorities faced a complicated task to run a state on the extremely ethnically diverse territory and to build modern nations according to Stalin’s view. Two major stages can be differentiated in Soviet nationality policy in the first half of the twentieth century. The first, Korenizatsiia, dominated at the beginning of the Soviet period and was based on the early post-revolution internationalist views of selfdetermination of nations within the USSR. Korenizatsiia thus meant development of local languages and cultures, including creation of dictionaries, written histories,[1] and often speaking the local language was considered more beneficial than speaking

Russian.[2] The second stage of Soviet nationality policy was Russification, which was implemented gradually in the late 1930s, along with other significant changes in the Soviet domestic policies, such as abandonment of the relatively liberal New Economic Policy or NEP and the start of the violent campaigns of collectivization and purges. Changes in the domestic policies affected the nationalities policy too: learning Russian language became mandatory everywhere in the U.S.S.R., alphabets of nonRussian languages were shifted to Cyrillic and the evolutionary and internationalist rhetoric was replaced by praising Russian culture and history and referring to the Russian people as “great Russian people” and “elder brother.” Later evolution of the Soviet nationality policy was the “Soviet People” concept, which was developed after Stalin’s death by Khrushchev and Brezhnev. This addition was a controversial one, focusing on the integration of a diverse multi-ethnic population into one solid supra-national group together with development of the local institutionalized nationalities. The Soviet authorities did not revise the 1940s ideology of the “great Russian people, the older brother” and did not see any logical problems in simultaneously emphasizing the equality of all nations and referring to the Russian people as the leading one.[3] The “Soviet People” never really appeared and the local nationalities had their cultures and languages significantly traumatized and underdeveloped. In terms of language, due to significant migration flows of Slav peoples and demographic shifts, as well as policies encouraging Russian language learning, Russian gradually became more and more widespread and took dominant positions in the everyday life in Soviet Kazakhstan. Chinn and Kaiser add that Russians in the republics usually lived in their own communities, sent their children to Russian schools, consumed Russian entertainment and media, and assumed that communication with others would be in Russian.[4] Russian schools taught Kazakh but most students did not take the titular nation requirement seriously and Russians usually graduated with no or very minimal knowledge of Kazakh and felt no need to improve it. The Russian language gradually became associated with “modern” culture and hence, began to be considered as necessary for a successful career in the Soviet society. Kazakhlanguage schools concentrated mostly in the rural areas, while the cities had mostly Russian-language schools and many urban Kazakhs who attended these schools switched to usage of Russian as a primary channel for communication. According to the last Soviet census of 1989, over 80 percent of Kazakhstan’s population was comprised of either native Russian speakers or those fluent in the language, while only about 40 percent claimed to be fluent in Kazakh. Considering that 40 percent of the population was ethnically Kazakh, this confirms that outside of Kazakhs almost no one knew the Kazakh language.[5] The Language Law of 1989 in Kazakhstan, like in other republics, was an important symbolic marker, although very limited efforts in terms of its implementation were actually made. Due to this legacy, Kazakhstan had a limited number of national movements in the late 1980s, and civic activity in the republic was mainly connected with

environmental protests against the Semey nuclear test site and the devastation of the Aral Sea. The “Nevada-Semey” anti-nuclear movement was one of the most successful and largest mass movements in Kazakhstan’s modern history and a peak moment of unity against the Soviet regime. Initially, this movement was not nationalist in itself; however, shortly afterwards it greatly increased the national consciousness across the republic. However, these protests were limited in comparison with the Baltic republics, and Central Asia is usually considered in the literature as the weakest link in the chain of nationalist movements of the late Soviet era.[6] Similarly, unlike in other Soviet republics, particularly the Baltics, the discussion about historical events and their interpretation was also somewhat less important in the rise of nationalist consciousness. However, even during the most restrictive times of the Soviet era, Kazakh historians made attempts to question the official Russian-centered interpretation of history. In the late 1940s, well before Gorbachev’s glasnost and perestroika campaigns, Kazakh historian Yermukhan Bekmakhanov bravely questioned the official negative interpretation of Kenesary Kassymov’s anti-colonial revolt of the nineteenth century. In the 1970s, prominent Kazakh poet and writer Olzhas Suleimenov in his book called AZiYa explored presence of Turkic words in the Slovo o Polku Igoreve, an ancient Russian legend. Overall, the Kazakh historians were slowly embarking on a reevaluation of Kazakh-Russian relations; the most significant accomplishment was the change of attitude toward the “bourgeois nationalists” of the Alash group, who were now treated with a new respect and admission of the suffering that had been inflicted on the Kazakh population during the period of collectivization and sedentarization. Another pivotal moment was the Zhetltoksan event in Almaty in December 1986, following Kunaev’s replacement on the post of the Kazakh SSR Communust Party First Secretary by an ethnic Russian, who never worked in Kazakhstan before, Gennady Kolbin. After the violent crackdown against the Zheltoksan protests, the republic’s leadership was very careful and cautious when addressing the theme of independence and sovereignty.

KAZAKHSTAN’S OFFICIAL POLICIES AND STATEMENTS: 130 NATIONS LIVING IN PEACE After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the ethnically diverse population of Kazakhstan presented a great challenge for the new regime’s ethnic and identitybuilding policies. Kazakhstan’s leadership had to establish a new identity policy upon which it could build its legitimacy, satisfying both nationalist groups looking for more radical changes and calming the fears of the sizable Slavic population that had long lived in the republic. There were several possible identity-building options that the regime might pursue in a country in which ethnic minorities still constituted a sizeable share—either to build a civic nation as an undifferentiated national identity or to build an ethnic nation-state with a larger supra-group identity on the foundation of many groups, or finally to emphasize association with bigger groups and spaces outside of the country.

Officially, the government of Kazakhstan demonstrated its commitment to the internationalist rhetoric and solidarity between ethnic groups living in the country. For instance, the country’s constitution explicitly emphasizes willingness of the state to develop national cultures and traditions of all ethnic groups living in the country.[7] Within the framework of this policy, each of the officially recognized minority groups possesses a so-called national-cultural center, which are usually granted some funding from the state and technically are aimed at preserving the language and traditions of particular groups; additionally, they are also in charge of participating in festivals during major national holidays. However, the importance and powers of these centers remain limited; in most cases these centers are just nominal bodies created to demonstrate peaceful coexistence among diverse ethnic groups. These centers report to an umbrella agency called the Assembly of the People(s) of Kazakhstan (APK).[8] The APK is a rather distinctive feature of Kazakhstan’s national identity policies; it has the status of a consultative body to mediate potential conflicts among different ethnic groups and for a long time had very limited powers. However, things changed quite a bit with constitutional amendments in May 2007, according to which nine members of the Mazhilis, the lower house of the Parliament, were elected by the APK (usually representing ethnic minorities). The nationality and identity policies of Kazakhstan clearly demonstrate the regime’s concerns about the complex ethnic situation in the country. The laws related to ethnic issues appear rather tolerant in comparison with those in some other postSoviet states. For instance, laws of Estonia and Latvia for a long time required passing language proficiency tests for non-Estonians and non-Latvians, as well as imposed restrictions for obtaining citizenship rights for those who arrived and settled during the Soviet time. As a result, many ethnic Russians living in those countries were denied citizenship and were issued “aliens’ passports” instead. Both post-Soviet Constitutions of Kazakhstan (adopted in 1993 and 1995) mentioned that human rights are guaranteed by the state and discrimination is strictly forbidden on the basis of “origin, social, official, and property status, as well as gender, race, nationality, language, religion, creed, and place of residence.”[9] At the same time, violations of the “citizen’s rights on the basis of ethnic origin, race, language, and religious affiliation” are explicitly mentioned in the Kazakhstan’s Criminal Code and are considered major crimes.[10] However, the ruling elite of Kazakhstan seems to be much more concerned with preserving its own rule and has a certain fear regarding the potential political mobilization of minorities. For that matter, the Constitution explicitly prohibits creating political parties on an ethnic basis and the government is usually rather suspicious of any kind of organized political activity of minorities. Another major point of the Kazakhstan government officials’ statements related to national identity policies is the constant emphasis on the fact that representatives of more than 130 (sometimes the number varies between 120 and 140) ethnic groups live in peace in Kazakhstan and that the country has avoided major conflicts on an ethnic basis. The Kazakh-language discourse expressed criticism of this idea, saying

that due to the demographic composition of the country, there are only three or four big ethnic groups living in the country while others are represented by very small numbers and cannot really be considered as separate “nations,” as the government refers to them. On the one hand, this discourse seems to apply to those representatives of various ethnic groups living only in Kazakhstan and not taken together with “bigger” nations living elsewhere (for example, they refer to the number of Armenians living in Kazakhstan and not to the number of Armenians living in the world); on the other hand, this clearly demonstrates that in the eyes of the critics there is an idea of some sort of a threshold number that an ethnic group needs to reach in order to be counted as “nation” within Kazakhstan. This can perhaps be explained by the dramatic experiences of the Soviet past, when Kazakhs living in Kazakhstan were at a certain point outnumbered by the outsiders and became a minority in their own land; hence, following Hobsbawm’s discussion of the “protonationlistic stage” of nationalism, the idea of “bigness” is a rather important factor for shaping the Kazakh nationalism in Kazakhstan.[11] The regime in Kazakhstan has made several attempts to overcome existing cleavages and polarizations along the ethnic lines that exist in modern Kazakhstan society, having experimenting with Kazakhstan as a Eurasian State and Kazakhstan as a Central Asian State narratives, which respectively place Kazakhstan in broader Eurasian and Central Asian contexts. The term Eurasian for some time became a popular element of the public discourse in Kazakhstan; it emphasizes exposure and closer connections to European culture, mainly via Russia rather than Asia, and explicitly emphasizes that Kazakhstan is not an Asian state. The references to the Central Asian character of Kazakhstan are less frequent and are used predominantly in the context of news reporting and talks about political relations with the neighboring countries, such as Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, although they play a similar role: to demonstrate that Kazakhstan does not belong just to a traditional Asian cultural milieu; instead, it presents a special case, together with four other Central Asian republics, due to the common Soviet legacy. These attempts also included the (in)famous “Kazakhstani nation” idea, which has been sporadically discussed in the media, though there have been few moves toward practical implementation. Kazakhlanguage newspapers severely criticized this attempt, arguing that such an attempt could lead to the potential disappearance of Kazakhs as a result of mixing with other ethnic groups. Russian-language newspapers demonstrated limited interest in these debates, and their discourse has almost never touched upon civic nationhood. This Soviet-style notion of “one big family,” living in peace and friendship, in which the role of the “older brother” is taken over by the Kazakhs, as opposed to Russians in the Soviet times, seems to be the eventual safe choice that the government of Kazakhstan ended up choosing in the country’s identity politics. After having experimented with different approaches and models, including Eurasia, Turkic brotherhood, and a civic Kazakhstani nation, in order to overcome existing cleavages and polarizations along the ethnic lines that exist in modern Kazakhstan’s society, the regime preferred not to implement radical and abrupt changes and not to heat up

further the potentially conflict-charged discussion. Having experimented with all these approaches, Kazakhstan’s regime seems to embark on the neo-Soviet approach of a “big family,” where Russians are replaced by Kazakhs. Hence, in modern Kazakhstan, as it was in the Soviet Union, ethnic affiliation is institutionalized by being recorded on domestically used ID cards. It is usually picked on the basis of parents’ ethnicity or, in case of mixed ethnicity, is picked by a child at a certain age. It is also legally possible to change the recorded ethnicity, and there are rumored cases when some minorities, especially Turkic people like Uyghurs, change their recorded ethnicity to Kazakh in order to gain career-related benefits. These steps show strong continuity of the controversial Soviet approach of trying to create a supra-ethnic “Soviet people” sense of identity and at the same time promoting institutionalized local nationalities living in the republics; as a result of this contradictory policy, the “Soviet People” never really emerged and many local nationalities had their cultures and languages significantly traumatized and underdeveloped. The contradiction between the ethnic and supra-ethnic identitybuilding in Kazakhstan has been noted by many scholars, some of whom qualified goals to ethnify the state and to integrate the population on a supra-ethnic basis as “incompatible.”[12]

DE FACTO REVENGE NATIONALISM Together with official internationalist discourse, an important theme in Kazakhstan’s domestic identity policies has been the focus on the growing revenge Kazakhization process, inspired by the theoretical basis of Brubaker’s “nationalizing nationalism” argument. Scholars have addressed an increasingly nationalist (and nationalizing) domestic policies agenda and statements, never explicitly sanctioned but de facto encouraged,[13] including changes in interpretation of historical events,[14] and manipulations of census statistics in order to create a more “politically desirable” version of linguistic and political realities.[15] Some scholarship also explored reasons for growing Kazakh ethnic nationalism and emphasized migrations of ethnic Kazakh youth from predominantly Kazakh depressed rural areas of the country into the cities[16] and the general preference of the Nazarbaev’s regime for prioritizing policies aimed at consolidating ethnic Kazakh identity.[17] Some studies have also addressed how the intellectual and academic polemics in Kazakhstan shifted to endorse this position through the informally approved publication of scholarly historical texts supporting Kazakh claims and legitimacies emphasizing the importance of local narratives and records of tribal affiliations and genealogies.[18] In contrast, other scholars argued that the more explicit stage of Kazakh nationalism happened in the early to mid-1990s, whereas later the Russian minority was capable of mobilizing politically—although, only to a certain extent.[19] Still others claim that Kazakh nationalists have been rather unhappy with the government’s policies, which declare moderate support for nationalist claims while at the same time taking few or no

practical measures to enforce stricter language and nationalist policies.[20] A crucial sub-theme in Kazakhstan’s national identity policy is the relationship between Kazakhs and other ethnic groups living in the country, notably Russians, and their role and status in post-Soviet Kazakhstan. Pål Kolstø analyzes historic cleavages between Kazakhs and Russians,[21] while Chinn and Kaiser explore identity issues among Russians living outside of Russia after the fall of the U.S.S.R. and point out that in the Soviet era Russians living in the national republics usually lived in their own somewhat isolated communities, consumed Russian entertainment and media products, and had a hard time adjusting to changes that occurred after the collapse of the Soviet Union.[22] Other works also emphasize antagonism between Kazakhs and other ethnic groups (non-Russians), since Central Asia lacked strong nationalist (i.e., anti-Russian) movements in the late Soviet period as compared to other regions of the U.S.S.R. Therefore, the outbursts of national feelings that took the form of ethnic riots were more confined to antagonism between the indigenous Central Asian groups and groups from Caucasus, but they were almost never directed against Russians.[23] Henry Hale points out that despite expectations of major nationalist attacks, Kazakhstan remained largely pro-Russian and pro-Commonwealth of Independent States, and the Kazakh leadership tried to decrease the outflow of Russians from Kazakhstan by its activism in the C.I.S. and good relations with Russia.[24] The scholarship also examines issues with developing civic-nation Kazakhstani identity, and some scholars emphasize that these rather sporadic debates assumed that Kazakh language and culture would ultimately become a consolidating factor for all Kazakhstanis.[25] Ó Beacháin and Kevlihan argue that despite limited developments in this domain, the notion of a civic nation and relationships between civic and ethnic visions of identity in the country continue to provide important reference points in understanding contemporary Kazakhstan.[26]

CIVIC KAZAKHSTANI NATION: A PHANTOM? The term “Kazakhstani nation” represents a rupture with the neo-Soviet national identity approach that emerged in Kazakhstan and calls for consolidation of the population on the basis of citizenship, highlighting the civic-nationhood, regardless of ethnic background. The public debates around “Kazakhstani Nation” [Kazakhstanskaia natsiia in Russian; Qazaqstandyq ult in Kazakh] started somewhere in the early to mid-1990s, following publication of an open letter in the Russian-language business-oriented newspaper Novoe Pokolenie [New Generation] signed by about 150 prominent Western-educated young businessmen and policymakers of Kazakhstan. In this letter, they called for creation of a Kazakhstani nation, which would include every citizen of Kazakhstan regardless of ethnic background. In 1997, President Nazarbaev addressed the issue several times in the context of the “Kazakhstan-2030” strategic development document; and, although preferring to use the term Kazakhstantsy [Kazakhstanis] instead of Kazakhstanskaia

natsiia [Kazakhstani Nation], he argued that a nation develops through a long natural historical process and emphasized the common fate of all Kazakhstanis living in Kazakhstan. In 2009–2010, the first draft of the Doctrine of National Unity, a declarative document written by semi-official think-tanks, had references to Kazakhstani nation focusing on the civic community and identity instead of ethnic-based community, claiming that such choice has become fundamental for preserving tolerance and stability in Kazakhstan. The Doctrine was aimed to set national unity in Kazakhstan on the basis of values which are close to the majority of citizens despite their ethnic background. Importantly, the Kazakh language was mentioned as a “factor of unity of the people of Kazakhstan” (Doktrina natsional’nogo edinstva). The Doctrine suggests using Kazakh as the main language of state bureaucracy, and encourages translation of world literature into Kazakh, as well as setting language requirements for immigrants willing to have citizenship of Kazakhstan. Some of the statements reminded one of Soviet practices, for instance, creation of an annual patriotic action “Menin Elim.” The “Kazakhstani Nation” is not mentioned in the text, although it is clear that the document emphasizes a common identity based on citizenship instead of ethnicity. The Doctrine, surprisingly for everyone, faced a hostile reaction from almost every camp, which never happened before; also, it created a hot public debate, which also rarely happened before in Kazakhstan’s authoritarian environment. First, Kazakh nationalists inspired by once prominent poet Mukhtar Shakhanov claimed that in Kazakhstan Kazakhs must be referred to as “titular nation” and that there is no room for a “Kazakhstani nation” to exist.[27] Moderate nationalist Mukhtar Taizhan claimed that if this Doctrine were adopted, Kazakhs would disappear in the melting pot and lose all of their traditions; while former senator and member of the moderate oppositional party “Azat” Ualikhan Kaisarov said that there is no real need to adopt the Doctrine and claimed that the document was promulgated in order to distract popular opinion and debates from economic difficulties and bad policies of government.[28] Finally, Gerold Belger, a well-known Kazakhstani writer of German origin, claimed he does not agree with the concept of a Kazakhstani nation, and that he prefers to identify himself as German.[29] The public discussion emphasized several major cleavages along which there is disagreement on the Kazakhstani nation; these include what language the new community should use and the linguistic ambiguity of the Kazakh term ult, which means both “nation” and “ethnicity.” The same problem to a certain extent exists in Russian; there, words natsiia [nation] and natsional’nost [ethnicity] have a somewhat clearer distinction but still are sometimes used interchangeably.

POINTS OF RESISTANCE So what are the results of nation-building in Kazakhstan after twenty-two years of independence? Is Kazakhstan a Brubakerian nationalizing nation or a state of “imagined community”? As shown above, most scholars agree that Kazakhstan is

undergoing the process of never explicitly sanctioned, but de facto encouraged, Kazakhization rather than engaging in a nation-building process based on civic identity. However, the nation-building process is too complex to be reduced to either/or dichotomy. The government pursues ambiguous and multi-vector policies and strategies skillfully appealing to Kazakh national patriots and Russian nationalist groups.[30] One of the most ambiguous and politicized issues has been the language policy. The gap between the state’s official rhetoric and its actions to support the Kazakh language is evident. On the one hand, President Nazarbayev has claimed that by 2020 every individual should speak Kazakh. On the other, the number of hours of Kazakh language taught in Russian schools has been reduced.[31] The call to learn Kazakh, on the one hand, is counterbalanced by the demand to know three languages —Kazakh, English, and Russian, on the other. The ambiguity of state messages sent to the public and multiplicity of state nation-building strategies contradicting each other does not bode well for the consolidation of the nation. In contrast, these policies create a more fragmented society with various groups holding different values and perceptions about what a nation is. The calls for a wider usage of the Kazakh language are accompanied by the pressure on those groups of citizens who demand the delivery of public services in Kazakh. This, in turn, leads to the resistance from citizens who seek to increase the usage of the Kazakh in the public sphere. One of the cases that received large public resonance was the “Letter of 138”[32] signed by the representatives of cultural intelligentsia and intellectuals, including the writer, Mukhtar Shakhanov. The demand expressed in the “Letter of 138” was to transfer all paper work and correspondence between citizens and state bodies to Kazakh. In addition, they demanded to abolish the clause in the Constitution of Kazakhstan stating that Russian can be used officially on a par with Kazakh in state organizations and local government. The government and pro-Russian organizations negatively evaluated this initiative referring to the “anticonstitutional” character of the letter.[33] Some observers called the petition a “threat to national security and stability of Kazakhstani people.”[34] The suggestion to reduce the status of the Russian language and sharp criticism provide a good example of divided society. The Kazakh and Russian-speaking groups represent two parallel worlds co-existing autonomously from each other. If a few years ago these groups did not interact with each other, today they intersect somewhat more even if the increased interaction between the Russian and Kazakhspeaking worlds is not always friendly.[35] Although the official rhetoric is very much positive in regard to interethnic relations, in reality the variation is observed between Kazakhs and Russians. The surveys conducted by the Kazakhstani Institute of Strategic Research (KISI) in 2009 show that the two major ethnicities differently evaluate interethnic relations. If Kazakhs believe that relations among various ethnic groups have been improved in the post-Soviet period, ethnic Russians believe that interethnic relations have worsened.[36] The negative attitudes can be explained by

changes in the status of Russians and Russian language after the break-up of the USSR who lost the privileged positions they held during the Soviet times. The ambiguity of government strategies in regard to the language policy is aggravated by poor implementation of laws and policies adopted by the government. State capacity to carry out various public programs, including language policy, remains quite low in Kazakhstan. Annually the government spends 5.5 billion tenge for the development of the Kazakh language.[37] Although this amount of money seems to be large, it is not spent effectively since money allocated for the development of the Kazakh language does not trickle down to the bottom. According to political analyst Nurtai Mustafaev, “Billions of tenge were allocated for unclear and low effective programs, development new textbooks, methodological brochures, etc. In the reports everything looks impressive; however, in practice it is not.”[38] Indeed, the existing reality is that de facto the Kazakh language is not used by the majority of the population. According to statistics, only 36 percent of the population can speak Kazakh fluently, while 50 percent know the language to various degrees.[39] The highranked officials are also blamed for not utilizing Kazakh at official government meetings and parliamentary sessions.[40] Russian language continues to prevail in the legislative organs and government offices.[41] Only one legislative draft—the Law on Migration—was discussed and adopted exclusively in Kazakh. The introduction of Kazakh in the legislature and other state bodies encounters challenges including the lack of professional lawyers, interpreters, and linguists.[42] However, it would be wrong to state that the usage of the Kazakh language has not been expanding in Kazakhstan. The percentage of those who speak Kazakh has increased and continues to grow. The usage of Kazakh particularly has grown in the education field and mass media. The percentage of students using Kazakh as a primary language of instruction was 34.1 percent in 2009, but it had increased to 62.5 percent in 2011.[43] The ambiguous state policies and messages sent to the public also produce different dynamics on ground. The empirical evidence suggests that the nationbuilding process launched by the ruling elites reflects the Brubaker’s concept of “nationalizing state,” a top-down ethno-centric process of nation-construction. Indeed, ethnicity continues to be a salient category in post-Soviet Kazakhstan. The Soviet policy of korenizatsia entrenched strongly the primodialist approach toward nationbuilding. Over twenty years later, primodialism dominates the scholarly and public discourse. According to the authors’ survey conducted in 2014 among students of Almaty in the age bracket of 18-21, 74 percent of respondents prefer to keep ethnicity in their ID and passports. Only 26 percent of respondents answered that the ethnicity should be deleted from identification documents. For most young people ethnicity is the core of their identity. The study conducted by the Kazakhstani Institute of Strategic Research in 2010 also showed that people are more likely to prioritize ethnic over civic identity. The study, however, found that the choice of ethnicity as the primary identity is not evenly distributed across Kazakhstan. The majority of

population of the Atyrau (43 percent), Zhambyl (53 percent), and Kyzyl Orda (63.4 percent) regions as well as Astana (50 percent) chose ethnicity as their primary identity. This is because southern and western parts of Kazakhstan are populated mostly by Kazakhs. In contrast, more than 30 percent of people living in Almaty city, the Almaty oblast, and the West Kazakhstan Oblast chose civic identity as their primary identity.[44] The difference was also observed between rural and urban areas. More urban dwellers (27 percent) than rural population (21 percent) chose civic identity in the first place. Traditional values and archaism prevailing in rural areas of Kazakhstan preclude the population from favoring a civic identity. The survey results showed that young people identify themselves differently. On the question “Which of the following identities is most important to you?” respondents had to choose several categories in order of preference—civic, ethnic, tribal, regional, and Zhuz identity. Similarly, 57 percent respondents chose Kazakhstani (civic) identity and 54 percent of respondents put ethnic identity on the first place. The split between respondents might show that civic identity is an emerging category among young people. The content of the Kazakhstani nation also varies. Respondents provided a wide range of answers on what Kazakhstani nation is. Some of them answered that, “There is no Kazakhstani nation, only Kazakh nation” or “Kazakhstani nation has not been formed yet.” Others claimed that “All people of Kazakhstan regardless of ethnicity, that is, like in the USA,” or “All ethnicities living on the territory of Kazakhstan.” Students chose three elements—common culture (55.9 percent), common history (53.1 percent), and Kazakh values (44.7 percent)—as the core components of the Kazakhstani nation. The territory was in fourth place (41.9 percent). Although common culture, common history, and territory are the elements of the civic nation, the Kazakh values are rather associated with ethno-nationalist interpretation of nation. Respondents emphasized the importance of the Kazakh language, Kazakh traditions, and customs. Hence, both civic and ethnic elements of nation are present on the ground. Most respondents (86.9 percent) emphasized that it means a lot for them to be a Kazakhstani citizen, while 13.1 percent mentioned that it is not important. Similarly, 85 percent of respondents said that they are proud to be a citizen of Kazakhstan, while 14.9 percent said that they are not proud. Why does the primodialist approach continue to dominate and reproduce itself in Kazakhstan today? One possible answer is that the Kuhnian paradigm shift from primodialism to constructivism has not taken place yet. Although a rapid socioeconomic development is taking place in the country, Kazakhstan cannot be referred to as a post-industrial society. Parochialism, tribal, regional, and ethnic identities inherent to agrarian societies are still very much important for individuals, while constructivism and, hence, civic identity is not appealing to the population in Kazakhstan. According to the survey conducted in 2010 by the Kazakhstani institute of Strategic Research, respondents put civic identity in third place after familial/tribal and ethnic identities as the most important.[45] The fear that the creation of the Kazakhstani nation will necessarily eradicate ethno-cultural differences and will

eventually lead to the disappearance of ethnic identity, is premised on the Stalinist formula that equated ethnicity and nationality.[46] As a result, the promotion of the state projects for the creation of civic identity constantly faces resistance from various groups of the society, including local intellectual and political elites, who prefer to explain the nation-building process from the primodialist perspective. The concept “Mangilik El” provides one example of durability of the primodialist approach in the state nation-building project. President Nazarabaev suggested developing the Patriotic Act, “Mangilik El,” which would complement the Doctrine of National Unity adopted in 2010. It is presented as “the national idea” based “on key values—stability, tolerance, and equality of all [people] despite religious and ethnic differences—that unite all Kazakhstani people and make the basis for the future.”[47] The idea envisions Kazakhstani people as a collection of various ethnic groups united by common values such as common history, culture, and language. Another example of the continuity of the Soviet primodialist approach is evident through the functioning of the People’s Assembly of Kazakhstan and various ethnocultural centers located in all regional cities of Kazakhstan. The Assembly and the centers legitimize and, in fact, further entrench ethnic differences among people. Through ethnic festivals and cultural events, they serve as constant reminders that there are different ethnic groups with unique cultures, customs, and traditions that should not pass into oblivion. Thus post-independent Kazakhstan’s identity-building policies relying on the priomordialist vision with sporadic and inconsistent attempts to inculcate a civic national identity idea demonstrate that there is a significant amount of continuity with late-Soviet nationalities policies and practices. The lack of clear and pertinent language and identity policies comes from the Nazarbaev regime’s aim to prevent political confrontation along ethnic lines by assuring Kazakh hegemony while allowing nominal minority representation. This in turn leads to the replication of the Soviet nationality vision among younger audiences.

NOTES 1. Gerhard Simon, Nationalism and Policy Toward the Nationalities in the Soviet Union: From Totalitarian Dictatorship to Post-Stalinist Society (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991), 42. 2. Terry Martin, The Affirmative Action Empire: Nations and Nationalism in the Soviet Union, 1923-1939 (Cornell: Cornell University Press, 2001), 12–13. 3. Simon, Nationalism and Policy, 182. 4. Jeff Chinn and Robert Kaiser, Russians as the New Minority: Ethnicity and Nationalism in the Soviet Successor States (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996). 5. William Fierman, “Language and Identity in Kazakhstan. Formulations in Policy Documents 1987-1997,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies 31, no. 2 (1998): 174. 6. Ajay Patnaik, Nations, Minorities and States in Central Asia (Kolkata: Maulana

Abul Kalam Azad Institute of Asian Studies, 2003). 7. Constitution of the Republic of Kazakhstan, Article 5, accessed May 20, 2013, www.akorda.kz/ru/category/konstituciya. 8. Created as Assembly of Peoples of Kazakhstan, renamed Assembly of People in 2007. 9. Constitution, Article 14. 10. Criminal Code of the Republic of Kazakhstan, Article 141, accessed June 3, 2013, online.zakon.kz/Document/?doc_id=1008032. 11. Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism Since 1780. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989, 75. 12. Jørn Holm-Hansen, “Political Integration in Kazakhstan,” in Nation-building and Ethnic Integration in Post-Soviet Societies: An Investigation of Latvia and Kazakhstan, ed. Pål Kolstø (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1999), 223–24. 13. See Michele Commercio, “The Pugachev Rebellion in the Context of Post-Soviet Kazakh Nationalization,” Nationalities Papers 32, no. 1 (March 2004): 87–113; Chong Jin Oh, “Diaspora Nationalism: The Case of Ethnic Korean Minority in Kazakhstan and its Lessons from the Crimean Tatars in Turkey,” Nationalities Papers 34, no. 2 (2006): 111–129; Sally Cummings, “Legitimation and Identification in Kazakhstan,” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 12, no. 2 (July 2006): 177–204; Sébastien Peyrouse, “The Imperial Minority: An Interpretive Framework of the Russians in Kazakhstan in the 1990s,” Nationalities Papers 36, no. 1 (March 2008): 105–23; Yerlan Karin and Andrei Chebotarev, “The Policy of Kazakhization in State and Government Institutions in Kazakhstan,” Middle East Studies Series 51 (March 2002), accessed July 11, 2014, www.ide.go.jp/English/Publish/Download/Mes/pdf/51_05.pdf. 14. Carolyn Kissane, “History Education in Transit: Where to for Kazakhstan?” Comparative Education 41, no. 1 (2005): 45–69. 15. Bhavna Dave, “Entitlement through Numbers: Nationality and Language Categories in the First Post-Soviet Census in Kazakhstan,” Nations and Nationalism 10, no. 4 (2004): 439–59. 16. William Fierman, “Changing Urban Demography and the Prospects of Nationalism in Kazakhstan,” Canadian Review of Studies in Nationalism XXVII (2000): 7–19. 17. Ingvar Svanberg, “In Search of a Kazakhstani Identity,” Journal of Area Studies 4 (1994): 112–23. 18. Alexander Diener, “National Territory and the Reconstruction of History in Kazakhstan,” Eurasian Geography and Economics 43, no. 8 (2002): 632-650; Saulesh Yessenova, “Soviet Nationality, Identity, and Ethnicity in Central Asia: Historic Narratives and Kazakh Ethnic Identity,” Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs 22, no. 1 (2002): 11-38. 19. Azamat Sarsembayev, “Imagined Communities: Kazak Nationalism and Kazakification in the 1990s,” Central Asian Survey 18, no. 3 (1999): 319-46. 20. Natsuko Oka, “Nationalities Policy in Kazakhstan: Interviewing Political and Cultural Elites,” Middle East Studies Series 51 (March 2002), accessed July 11, 2014, www.ide.go.jp/English/Publish/Download/Mes/pdf/51_09.pdf.

21. Pål Kolstø, “Bipolar Societies?” in Nation-Building and Ethnic Integration in PostSoviet Societies, ed. Pål Kolstø (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1999), 15–43. 22. Chinn and Kaiser, Russians. 23. Patnaik, Nations. 24. Henry Hale, “Cause without a Rebel: Kazakhstan’s Unionist Nationalism in the USSR and CIS,” Nationalities Papers 37, no. 1 (January 2009): 1–32. 25. Nathan Paul Jones, “‘Assembling’ a Civic Nation in Kazakhstan, The Nation Building Role of the Assembly of Peoples of Kazakhstan,” Caucasian Review of International Affairs 4, no. 2 (2010): 159–68; Cummings, “Legitimation.” 26. Donnacha Ó Beacháin and Rob Kevlihan, “State-building, Identity and Nationalism in Kazakhstan: Some Preliminary Thoughts,” Working Papers in International Studies 1 (2011): 1. 27. Vladislav Yuritsin, “Mukhtar Shakhanov dal Nursultanu Nazarbayevu srok do 17 dekabria”, ZonaKZ, November 26, 2009, accessed June 30, 2014, www.zonakz.net/articles/27346. 28. Zhumabike Zhunussova, “Staraia pesnia o glavnom,” ZonaKZ, December 21, 2009, accessed June 30, 2014, www.zonakz.net/articles/27627. 29. Nazira Darimbet, “S takim rezhimom vragov ne nado,” Respublika, January 22, 2010, accessed June 30, 2014, www.respublika-kaz.biz/news/polit_process/3625. 30. Rogers Brubaker, “Nationalizing States Revisited: Projects and Processes of Nationalization in Post-Soviet States,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 34, no. 11 (November 2011): 1785–1814; Hale, “Cause without a Rebel”; Edward Schatz, “The Politics of Multiple Identities: Lineage and Ethnicity in Kazakhstan,” Europe-Asia Studies 52, no. 3 (June 2000): 231–254. 31. Begim Oraz-Mukhamet, “V russkikh shkolakh kazakhskomu yaziku sobirayutsia uchit’ po-novomu,” RFE/RL, September 12, 2013, accessed June 29, 2014, rus.azattyq.org/content/kazakh-language-russian-schools-kazakhstan/25104122.html. 32. During the Soviet period, “open letters” was one of the ways to attract attention of the officials and the wider audience to critical issues and this practice is still in use in post-Soviet Kazakhstan. 33. Mark Grigoryan and Dinmukhammed Kalikulov, “V Kazakhstane predlozhili izmenit’ status russkogo yazika,” BBC, September 11, 2011, accessed June 29, 2014, www.bbc.co.uk/russian/international/2011/09/110906_kazakh_russian.shtml. 34. Aigul Omarova, “Pismo 138 nazvali ugrozoi natsional’noi bezopasnosti i stabil’nosti kazakhstantsev,” TengriNews, September 22, 2011, accessed June 29, 2014, tengrinews.kz/kazakhstan_news/pismo-138-nazvali-ugrozoy-natsionalnoybezopasnosti-i-stabilnosti-kazahstantsev-197480. 35. Saule Issabayeva, “Dvulichnyi natsionalizm,” Central Asia Monitor, October 4, 2013, accessed June 29, 2014, camonitor.com/archives/9261. 36. “Osobennosti Identichnosti i Konsolidatsii Naseleniia Kazakhstana,” Tsentr Sotsial’nykh i Politicheskikh Issledovanii “Strategiia,” accessed June 10, 2014, www.ofstrategy.kz/index.php/en/. 37. Saken Zhunussov, “Natsional’nyi vopros v Kazakhstane na fone ukrainskogo

krizisa,” Ashyk Alan (Tribuna), June 4, 2014. 38. Kenzhe Tatilya, “Postroim li my svoi Vavilon?” Central Asia Monitor, November 22, 2013, accessed June 28, 2014, camonitor.com/archives/9929. 39. Ó Beacháin and Kevlihan, “State-building”; Dastan Eldesov, “Kazakhskii yazik v evraziiskom kontekste,” Ashyk Alan (Tribuna), June 18, 2014. 40. Zhunussov, “Natsional’nyi vopros.” 41. William Fierman, “Russian in Post-Soviet Central Asia: A Comparison with the States of the Baltic and South Caucasus,” Asia-Europe Studies 64, no.6 (August 2012):1077–1100. 42. Eldesov, “Kazakhskii yazik.” 43. Tatilya, “Postroim li my svoi Vavilon?” 44. Bulat Sultanov et al., Mezhnatsional’nye i mezhkonfessional’nye otnosheniia v Respublike Kazakhstan, (Almaty: Kazakhstanskii Institut Strategicheskikh Issledovanii, 2010). 45. Ibid. 46. Tatilya, “Postroim li my svoi Vavilon?” 47. Zhanbolat Mamyshev, “Nazarbayev poruchil razrabotat’ patrioticheskii akt Mangilik El,” ZonaKZ, January 17, 2014, accessed June 29, 2014, www.zonakz.net/articles/75949.

Chapter 3

Born for Misery and Woe Aminat Chokobaeva National Memory and the 1916 Great Revolt in Kyrgyzstan On August 3, 2006, a small group of Kyrgyz citizens returned from the Tian Shan Mountains, where they had buried the bones of their ancestors who died there ninety years before. In 1916, Tsarist authorities waged a brutal war against the indigenous population of the Semirechye region in what is today northern Kyrgyzstan in order to suppress a rebellion sparked by unpopular administration policies and the hardships they indirectly caused. Out of a population of 780,000 ethnic Kyrgyz of the Semirechye and Ferghana oblasts an estimated one hundred thousand to two hundred thousand were killed, along with an equal number choosing to flee and perishing in their attempt to cross the Chinese border. Termed “the unknown genocide” by one contemporary Kyrgyz writer, the repression of the local population was carried out by armed Russian settlers as well as by Tsarist forces.[1] Displaced and persecuted by the Tsarist forces and the Chinese administration alike, the Kyrgyz —along with Kazakhs, Dungans, and others—were given short respite by the Russian Revolution of 1917. The subsequent re-integration of Russian Central Asia, then known as Turkestan, into a new Soviet state belied the continued resistance of the native population to what many justifiably saw as the continuation of the Russian rule in the region. Under the new Soviet administration, the appropriation of lands for collective farms went hand in hand with the appropriation of memories. This new Soviet state incorporated native sites, spaces, and practices into its myths about the founding of the great Soviet nation, and in doing so weaved new class, gender, and national identities in Central Asia. Unsurprisingly, the way in which the “Urkun”—“exodus,” as it is commonly referred to in Kyrgyz—is remembered and interpreted within Kyrgyzstan has undergone substantial revision, being transformed first by the Tsarist administration, then under Soviet rule, and finally recouped as an unstable political order emerged within newly independent Kyrgyzstan. For example, this is evident in the way the folk narratives of resistance common among the Kyrgyz survivors were subsumed into the grand Soviet narrative of the class struggle. This was the leitmotif of almost every study on pre-Soviet Central Asia during the Soviet period, and the class conflict approach predominant elsewhere in Soviet historiography was likewise applied to the Turkestan uprising of 1916. Therefore, it is easy to conclude that the tenuous and contested historiography of the uprising proved a challenge to Soviet historians. While traditional accounts of the violence were clearly anti-colonial and tied in well with the Bolshevik claim of liberating the region from a servitude centuries old, the strands of anti-Russian sentiment in

indigenous accounts were at odds with the fundamental premise of the Soviet polity as one based on the voluntary union of nations (i.e., “friendship of nations”). These elements were quickly the target of a Soviet campaign of selective “forgetting,” symptomatic of most national histories but developed into a new science under the Soviets. Ultimately, the uprising did not fit the rigid Soviet interpretation of indigenous class conflict as a harbinger of the 1917 November Revolution. The many interpretations of the Urkun under the Soviets embodied the contradictory meanings of Soviet power in Central Asia. This chapter seeks to explore the changing politics of memory in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan paying special attention to the contemporary interpretations of the 1916 anti-colonial uprising in Turkestan. It strives to understand the highly selective nature of the official, state-mediated remembrance of the uprising by contrasting it with unofficial community memory. Specifically, it addresses the fundamental questions about the nature of remembrance in modern Central Asia: how much of what we remember is the result of the Soviet historical memory? To what extent is our knowledge of the past, both Soviet and earlier Tsarist, conditioned by the Soviet legacy? In other words, has the Soviet experience voided the local communities of their histories? The Urkun is a momentous event for contemporary Kyrgyz citizens which, as an act of foundational violence, retains its force within Central Asian history and politics. Yet its interpretation is still rife with contradiction, and this chapter explores why the Soviet society chose to forget certain aspects of its recent past, and why the postSoviet Kyrgyz society chose to remember them. Combining archival sources with oral histories and contemporary media accounts, I examine the challenges peculiar to the Soviet attempts to reconcile the mutually exclusive Bolshevik projects of nationbuilding on the one hand and the friendship of nations on the other, and the ways in which these paradoxes are reflected in the communal remembrance of the Urkun. In particular, I argue that the Urkun is key to understanding national identity construction in independent Kyrgyzstan. In forwarding this argument, I am drawing on field research conducted in the summer of 2012. This included a review of previously classified Tsarist and Soviet archival sources, as well as parts of the official historiography and unpublished transcripts of interviews with survivors, collected by a group of Kyrgyz Soviet ethnographers, and an array of media texts on the subject. The chapter is structured into three sections: the first part reviews the ideological shifts in the Stalinist historical mythology. As Michael Denison compellingly argues, despite the growing number of studies on identity production in Central Asia, these have focused exclusively on the production and dissemination of the symbols of new state-mediated identities.[2] Likewise, the research into oral histories of Central Asian communities has looked at the participants’ experiences of the Soviet modernization in case of Central Asia, and collectivization in particular, rather than engaging with the changing significance of oral histories in the post-Soviet context. Admittedly, the highly circumscribed Soviet forms of historical consciousness make it difficult, if not

impossible, to speak of the existence of an independent unitary collective remembrance. However, the persistence of counter memories suggests that the Soviet cultural hegemony in Central Asia was never complete. The chapter’s second part develops the comparative analysis of the official interpretations of Urkun and its private, individual readings in the Soviet context. Finally, the conclusion illustrates how the different representations of the uprising converged in the highly ambiguous and contested politics of memory in independent Kyrgyzstan.

WRITING THE UPRISING IN THE SOVIET UNION The nineteenth-century theoretician of nationalism Ernest Renan once famously observed that “to forget” and to “get one’s history wrong, are essential factors in the making of a nation.” The Soviet Union was not a nation in the ethnic sense of the term, but, true to Renan’s testament, its unity was achieved through selective forgetting and political violence and intimidation. Spanning over six decades, the Soviet historical imagination was the result of reinterpreting and rewriting hundreds of historical events, including the events of the immediate past. The Soviet leadership well understood the importance of history. Prior to the November Revolution Lenin commissioned Pokrovsky, the man celebrated as the Dean of Soviet historians, to write Russia’s new history based on the Marxist precepts of class struggle.[3] As Marx and Engels famously stated in The Communist Manifesto, the workers have no fatherland and history revolves around class struggle.[4] The fulcrum of history writing in the Soviet Union class principle became the grounding for the new form of patriotism based on the visions of an idealized Soviet future for the toiling masses. While Central Asia was frequently regarded as resting on the periphery of the Soviet sphere, the primacy of history and the emphasis on its reinterpretation was felt as strongly as in Moscow. In order to manage the Soviet dominions, an essential “nationalities policy” was created to forge local identities that were differentiated but still distinctly Soviet as the same time. History served the function of entrenching new identities that would be “national in form, and socialist in content.” To this end, the policy of nativization (korenizatsiia) was employed, which entailed the promotion of national elites and the celebration of native cultures. As a reaction to the perceived Tsarist Imperialism (or the “Great Russian chauvinism”), korenizatsiia embraced ethnic difference and was advocated as a path toward the impending convergence (sliaynie) of the Soviet nationalities. In practice, it was viewed as a form of tactical bargaining with local cultural potentates. Although seemingly paradoxical and inconsistent at first glance, korenizatsiia was in essence the application of the Marxist rhetoric of exploited classes to ethnicities. The selling of the policy rested on an argument that certain ethnic groups shared their condition with the underprivileged proletariat who were similarly persecuted and oppressed. The nationalism of minor nations, within this framework, seemed to mask legitimate class grievances within the clothing of national movements.[5] Cast in terms of class struggle, the dozen or so revolts and uprisings against the

Russian imperial rule in Turkestan were generally considered as progressive national liberation movements throughout 1920s and the first half of 1930s. The uprising of 1916 was no exception, as the largest and the last in the history of colonial administration of Central Asia. In 1924 several articles authored by Grigory Broido and Turar Ryskulov, and published in the journal New East (Novyi Vostok), were the first attempts at analyzing the uprising (and both authors were participants of the uprising). Ryskulov suggested that the revolt of 1916 was conceived by the Tsarist administration as a pretext to garrison a large contingent of troops in Turkestan for future conquests in Western China. Like Ryskulov, Broido viewed the uprising as the result of provocateur actions of the colonial leadership, whose goal was to ethnically cleanse the native population for the further resettlement of Russian peasantry in the “freed” lands.[6] The articles were later published as separate monographs in 1925 and in 1926, respectively, causing a contentious debate among Soviet scholars. By 1926 the discussions of the uprising warranted the intervention of “Istpart”— the research institute devoted to the study of the history of the Communist Party. Ivan Menitsky’s “On the character of the events of 1916 in Turkestan” opened the debate and was quickly followed by the response from Ryskulov and another scholar, Yusup Abdrakhmanov. Both Ryskulov and Abdrakhmanov insisted that while the uprising had elements of class struggle it would be erroneous to conclude that the revolt was the protest of “oppressed classes against the yoke of intolerable exploitation by both the indigenous bourgeoisie as well as all other exploiters irrelevantly of their ethnicity.”[7] On the contrary, the leadership of the uprising often consisted of traditional tribal leaders, or the “exploiting classes” in Bolshevik vocabulary. The Russian peasantry that Menitsky describes as the only force capable of “putting an end to the predatory colonial politics of the resettlement administration” was in Adbrakhmanov’s words “the practical colonizer” whose interests, owing to the agrarian nature of colonization, were perfectly in line with the interests of the Tsarist rule in the region. Likewise, Ryskulov emphasized that the Russian rule in Turkestan was no different from the colonial yoke of any other European state. Thus “the insurgents, in their attacks, did not discriminate between Tsarist officials and Russian peasants and Russian workers.”[8] Put simply, the “uprising was directed against all Russians.” The debate was eventually stifled by the authorities, but the question of the nature of the revolt continued to divide Soviet academia along ethnic lines for at least another decade. The first indication of the impending curtailment of national histories came at the Sixteenth Party Congress held in 1930, at which Stalin pointed to the dangers not only of the “Great Russian chauvinism,” but also the local nationalisms (or as he termed it the “right deviation”). Concerned with the growth of national sentiments in the regions, and faced with the large scale resistance to agricultural collectivization, the Soviet leadership intensified the “socialist offensive” on all fronts. A year later, Stalin declared the victory over capitalism and the creation of the fatherland for workers—in effect, the Soviet fatherland whose independence had to be defended. Nation building in the non-Russian republics continued, albeit on new terms. All constituent Soviet republics were granted national territories in which the indigenous population was

entitled to national languages, national histories and literatures, and academies of sciences devoted almost entirely to the collection and research of folkloric materials. Still, the message of the central authorities was unequivocal: the path to cultural and national unification of the various Soviet peoples lay through the cooperation and coexistence. In the country of “victorious socialism” ethnic difference was accommodated, but ethnic dissent was not. A clear Soviet policy on history emerged in the first half of 1930s: any concessions to non-Marxist interpretation of national histories were no longer tolerated. Class approach was reinstated as the only correct yardstick against which historical events could be judged progressive or reactionary. Ironically, there was an unmistakable Russocentric element in the rehabilitated patriotism as the Russian people were elevated to the status of the unifying nation. A Pravda editorial from February 1936 proclaimed that “first among these [the participants in the great socialist construction] is the Russian people.”[9] In addition to a set of rather explicit criteria for evaluating revolts—including the internal class struggle in the society, the nature of the leadership, the goals of the movement, and the involvement of “foreign enemies”—an implicit but nonetheless important criterion was “to what extent was the revolt aimed against Russians.”[10] The second half of 1930s saw the publication of Stalin’s so-called “short course,” or “The History of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union,” which inaugurated the revisionist theory of “lesser evil.” Annexation by imperial Russia was, according to the theory, a better alternative to being conquered by a neighboring power because it brought together the proletariat of the colonizing and the colonized. The shift in the party directives shook the foundations of Soviet historiography. Confused by denunciations and accusations of bourgeois nationalism, the native intelligentsia and leadership of the Central Asian republics hastened to rewrite the national histories in accordance with the new party dictum. Ryskulov, who less than a decade earlier cited the anti-Russian character of the uprising, contended in his 1935 monograph Kyrgyzstan that the uprising “was first of all, directed against the local exploiting classes.”[11] Similarly, some of the impoverished Russian peasants took up arms against the colonial administration too, because both the working Kyrgyz and Russians “were equally oppressed by the Russian tsarism and kulaks.”[12] However, this did not save Ryskulov, who was the head of the Soviet central government in Turkestan, from execution in 1938 on charges of treason. His colleague, the first indigenous leader of Soviet Kyrgyzstan Yusup Abdrakhmanov, suffered a similar fate. Accused of nationalism and “Pan-Turkism” in 1933, he was expelled from the party and demoted to a rank-and-file job in Orenburg and finally executed in 1938. The need for the heightened patriotic spirit grew in the face of possible invasion and, understandably, much of the research into the already controversial uprising was halted. It was not until the beginning of 1950s, during Khrushchev’s “thaw,” that further discussions of the uprising became possible. Within a few years, from 1951 to 1954, a series of conferences were held in the five Central Asian capitals devoted to the

study of the “character of national movements.” A three-day conference in Frunze, then the capital of the Kyrgyz Soviet Socialist Republic, was attended by approximately 250 leading Central Asian historians.[13] The general tone was set by a noted historian from the “center” of Soviet historiography, Anatoly Piaskovskii of the Institute of History in Moscow, who emphasized the progressiveness of Central Asia’s annexation and the mutual struggle of the toiling masses against Tsarism.[14] This view was supported by Anna Zimma, a professor at the Kyrgyz State University, who added that the otherwise progressive revolt “was usurped in some places by feudalclerical elements” and that “representatives of the exploiting aristocracy set the more backward elements of the native population against the Russian people, striving to kindle hatred between people,” but this could not diminish the growing friendship of the Kyrgyz and Russian peoples.[15]

SILENCING COMMUNAL MEMORY IN SOVIET UNION Although the conference proceedings were published later that year, no mention was ever made of the extensive oral history research conducted for the conference. This sensitive data consists of 136 interviews conducted with elderly people who were survivors of the uprising, the majority of them Kyrgyz, in the six oblasts of Soviet Kyrgyzstan. The research project was clearly designed to address several contentious questions: the reasons for the uprising, its leadership, the economic situation of the ethnic Kyrgyz, the relationships between the Kyrgyz and the Russians, and (somewhat inexplicably) the possible role in the uprising of the folk poet Toktogul. Of course, the seemingly arbitrary ban on the use and publication of these invaluable insights into the memory of the uprising is directly related to the controversies surrounding oral history research within the Soviet Union. Certainly, some of the common threads that appear on a closer examination of the transcripts fall in line with the official historiography of the uprising. Among these, class rhetoric is probably the broadest denominator used by the interviewees in their evaluations of the uprising. Interestingly, while some of the interviewees are identified as working as hired laborers prior to the November Revolution, no information is given for any other interviewees concerning their class origins. A handful of interviewees had been long-term members of the Communist Party and this is reflected in their recollections of the uprising, the rhetoric of which is well versed in the official Soviet language of class struggle. Djurabek Abdrasulov (b. 1899), a party member since 1920, affirms that during the uprising “the people have divided into two groups—the rich and the poor.” Denis Zadorojnyi (b. 1900), a party member since 1940, also intimates that “when the mobilization decree of Tsar Nicholas II was issued, there was widespread discontent with the politics of Tsarism and the local bais.” However, irrespective of the origins or the party affiliation most interviewees mention the oppression of the Kyrgyz masses by the indigenous elites (“bai manaps” in Kyrgyz), who were wealthy cattle breeders and local landowners. Others point to the unfairness of the conscription process, which aggravated a long-held discontent with

the colonial administration’s policies and in part triggered the uprising. All interviewees discuss the violence of the colonial administration. Yet despite the wide use of the proletarian idiom, many interviewees approach the subject of interethnic relationships with caution and sometimes outright confusion. This confusion is particularly salient in the accounts of the ethnic Russian interviewees. Fedor Tkachenko (b. 1890) echoes the conclusions of the Frunze conference; for him “the goal of the rioters was to get rid of the Russians as the colonizers, but [the] bais and manaps worked together with the Russian officials.” However, his uneasiness with the official take on the uprising is however obvious in his disagreement over the nature of the leadership; he states that “at the time, the poor could not be at the head of the uprising, [as] the tension was fuelled by the mullahs.” Reflecting on the economic divide between the native population and the settlers Anton Firern (b. 1879) reminisces that “the Kyrgyz population bore all the hardships, while the Russians did not pay any taxes.” Yet despite the apparent unfairness of the arrangement and the fact that the Russian settlers who paid no tax were less likely to be poor than the Kyrgyz, he also states that “the Kyrgyz and Russian poor lived peacefully.” A fellow settler, Artem Glushko (b. 1876) recalls that “there were no poor among us; when we arrived here in 1897 we were all given 12 hectares of land . . . [w]e were given this land for free.” An even more contradictory account is given by Ostap Glushko (b. 1885) who implicitly rejects the suggestion that the uprising was directed against the native aristocracy. He states, “I do not remember Kyrgyz killing their bais in 1916 . . . there was the revolt in Semirechye, Russians were killed there, but the Russian soldiers suppressed it; our people have been sleeping in a church for a while.” In spite of the ethnic violence he stresses that the Russians and Kyrgyz “lived peacefully together and were not at feud with each other.” Similarly, Ivan Novikov contends that he did not “remember the national hostility, but the poor Kyrgyz did not like the poor Russians and even threatened them.” On the other hand, there is little confusion in the account of Dorofei Pechenenko (b. 1884) who states bluntly that “the Kyrgyz massacred indiscriminately all Russians and burned down Russian villages: Chervakh, Beshnadal, Karakol, Blagodatny.” Similar discomfort at trying to reconcile the Soviet vision of the progressive role of the Russian Empire in Central Asia emerges in the memories of the Kyrgyz respondents. A group of the elderly collective farm workers in the Frunze oblast recalls that “until 1916 the Tsarist government was not unfair to the Kyrgyz.” Still, that the administration was anything but just towards the Kyrgyz becomes clear in the course of their interview, as they remark: along the Aksu river, on its banks, in the west, on both sides of the Aksu mountains, at the foot of the mountains, where our cattle were grazing, the Russian kulaks built their castles. And other Russian kulaks also took away our lands, which they turned into the reserve fund, and if our cattle grazed there, they took ransom for each sheep or cow. During the 1914 war of Russians with

Germans, only the poor (Kyrgyz) bore all the hardships. The antagonism inherent within Soviet historiography between the rich and the poor is equally problematized in many of the interviews. Momut Kabirov (b. 1897) alleges that the “bais too participated in the uprising, but the majority (of the rioters) were poor . . . [t]he Kyrgyz and the Russians were feuding with each other.” Junush Borsukbaev (no date of birth provided) confirms that “the head of the revolting Tynymseit tribe was Baizak, . . . [who] belonged to one of the biggest feudal lords of Tynymseit . . . [and] was regarded as a ‘national hero’ by both the feudal lords and the poor.” Given the way in which the conflicting versions of the past play out in the personal recollections of the interviewees, it is not surprising that it is in the stories of interethnic violence (or rather their suggestive absence) that the tension between the official history and communal memory becomes most apparent. While in the majority of the interviews little is said of the violence, which is hinted at but rarely stated, those accounts that do tell of violence are particularly unforgiving of the Soviet interpretation of the uprising. Sharshebai Galiev (b. 1894) recalls that “when night fell, Russian soldiers came, they robbed us, they took whatever they liked . . . [t]hey violated Kyrgyz girls and young women.” Gendered violence also figures prominently in the account of A. Dobridneva (b. 1903) who states that “[o]n the day of uprising, the Kyrgyz killed all Russians they caught in field . . . [t]hey took young Russian women away with them. Sazanovka was burned completely.” The story of another group of the elderly Kyrgyz from a collective farm in Frunze Oblast highlights the powerlessness and dehumanization of the native population in the hands of the colonial authorities and the Russian settlers, “. . . the Russian kulaks of Sarypul, Kara-Balta, Poltavka, Petrovka, Belovodsk, and especially Sosnovka robbed us (the Kyrgyz population), . . . several kulaks shot like ducks—twenty-three Kyrgyz from the mountains, from the valleys, right in their beds, while their children were crying.” Although in many ways disruptive of the Soviet ideological project, these accounts also tell of emancipation and freedom granted by the Soviet state to the Kyrgyz. For example, Isak Murataliev (b. 1898) declares that “only the Soviet power saved [us] from poverty and cruel exploitation and violence.” Akhmedali Rozakhunov (b. 1889), a party member since 1924, concurs: “only the Great October [November] revolution gave freedom and joyful life to the Kyrgyz people who, hand in hand with other peoples of Central Asia and the Soviet Union, are building the bright house of humankind—communism.”

REMEMBER NOT TO FORGET Long after the fall of the Soviet Union, the reconstruction of Kyrgyz collective memory is difficult, if even possible. But the numerous clues as to the nature of relationship between ethnic Russians and Kyrgyz—found throughout the transcripts of interviews cited above—indicate that the Stalinist ideological project, although largely successful,

did not entirely eliminate the subjugated knowledge of communal remembrance. While resentment and ancestral blame for the massacre continues to circulate, the more pressing issue remains of how to commemorate the uprising. As a columnist of the largest Russian language daily newspaper in Kyrgyzstan Vecherny Bishkek (“Evening Bishkek”), himself an ethnic Russian, explains “historical enlightenment concerning the events of 1916 is lacking.”[16] Many nationalists talk of genocide or Kyrgyn (“extermination”), but others see the Urkun as a misstep in an otherwise amicable and beneficial relationship between Kyrgyzstan and Russia. The issue of the commemoration is also of continuing relevance to the central government. On the one hand, if the Soviet experience is any indication, tragedies like this are not easily forgotten. On the other hand, massaging public opinion on the Urkun, in the aftermath of ethnic riots in the south of the country, risks alienating ethnic minorities and Russia. In 2008 the Kyrgyzstani parliament passed a law establishing the annual commemoration day for the victims of the “1916 national liberation movement.” In contrast to the Soviet history textbooks, textbooks published in independent Kyrgyzstan devote more attention and print space to events of the colonial period and the Urkun, in particular. Still, there are no definitive solutions to the vexing and uncomfortable question of who is to blame, but the public discussions of the Urkun and its state sanctified commemoration suggest that the events of 1916 are being written into national history. The appeal to traumatic memories is not coincidental. The emotional charge of the communal remembrance of the Urkun is central to the construction of modern national identity in independent Kyrgyzstan. The memory of historical injustice, of the victimization at the hands of the merciless enemy is the glue—or the collectively imagined past to use Benedict Anderson’s term—that helps bind together the society still loyal to the Soviet past and the self-conscious successor of the Soviet Union— today’s Russia.[17] It is important to remember that “collective memory is an instrument and an objective of power,” which like history, is socially constructed, collectively shared, and selectively exploited.[18] Thus, the politics of memory in contemporary Kyrgyzstan should be understood in relation to the social construction of national consciousness in the aftermath of the collapse of the Soviet Union. The post-Soviet brand of historical revisionism is simultaneously the means of breaking with the past and constructing the vision of an independent and ethnic nation. In many respects, the institutionalization of historical memory in today’s Kyrgyzstan is similar to the internal debates on non-Russian national ideologies of the 1920s and first half of the 1930s; there is the condemnation of Tsarist Russia and conflicting accounts of the role of ethnicity in the violence accompanying the uprising. That is to say, the politics of memory in Kyrgyzstan are not without ambiguities; they are born of the continuous public discussion. Urkun is then a site where the entanglement of the Soviet experience, the local communal memory, and the national identities are being renegotiated and reconstructed. Despite the seeming diversity of thinking on the Urkun and the post-Soviet decentralization of remembrance, there are certain commonalities in the public

narratives of the Urkun. There are of course differences of institutional affiliations and political orientations but, on a closer look, the various views of the Urkun are in essence the affirmation of the nationalist narrative of origins. The memories of repressions and suffering paint the unequivocal picture of the suffering victim and the cruel tormentor where the victim is the nation and the tormentor—the outside invader —in this case the Russian empire. The common thread running through the accounts of the Urkun is the idea of national independence, in which the Urkun emerges as “bloody fight,” the deadly struggle for freedom.[19] By all accounts a catastrophe, for many the Urkun represents the bid for Kyrgyz statehood. The idea is not new; as Sally Cummings suggests in her analysis of the so-called “Kyrgyz wonder” years of the Soviet cinema, 1916 was regarded by Soviet Kyrgyz intellectuals as the “founding date for Soviet Kirghizia,” which “created a point of no return.”[20] In post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan, the Urkun is the tragedy, whose “lessons . . . are especially relevant today, when the Kyrgyz are consolidating their nationhood.”[21] The official treatment of the subject emphasizes the conscious struggle for independence from the empire. Turdubek Sheishekanov—the dean of the Asian and African history department at the Kyrgyz State National University, insists that “it would be correct to call those events ’the national liberation movement,’ so that today’s young people would be proud (of it).”[22] Almazbek Karypov—an independent presidential candidate at the 2011 elections—agrees that “in the Chuy, Issyk-Kul, Naryn, and Talas regions the people fought against Russian military and colonizers with particular bravery for the sake of tomorrow’s peace and independence.” [23] Nurjamal Amanalieva, a cardiologist and a public activist, contends that “as nomads, the Kyrgyz did not like being governed unjustly, . . . [t]his was the case under the tsarist rule, when thousands of our compatriots died in 1916.” [24] Accordingly, the key moment in the literature on the Urkun, be this popular media or history curriculum, is the violent nature of Russian colonial presence in Kyrgyzstan. Baktybek Maksutov, a parliamentarian at the first parliament of the post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan whose book entitled The Cruel Massacre, The Bloody Fight, asks the question of whether “the Kyrgyz are guilty of the Urkun,” arguing that “only the Kyrgyz suffered during the uprising, they overcame the horrifying misery and, though innocent, were massacred.”[25] Pamir Kazybaev, the editor-in-chief of the literary Kyrgyz language journal Madaniyat (“Literature” in Kyrgyz) cites an elderly woman whose parents perished in the uprising: “when you recall those events, you think that the Kyrgyz are the people born for suffering and misfortune.”[26] In this reading, the very memory of the Urkun becomes traumatic, even if not experienced directly. One of the media articles on the Urkun describes it as simultaneously a stain and a scar (tak)—a single word of two meanings in Kyrgyz.[27] To remind the public of the suffering visited on the Kyrgyz, the annual exhibition held at the Museum of History displays the graphic photographs of the hanged participants of the uprising and the Kyrgyz family killed inside their yurt. Similar descriptions of indiscriminate killings are made in history books for secondary schools. The historian

Muratbek Imankulov cites the following archival data in his textbook for high school students: on the 14 of August, in the village of Belovodsk, the punitive force along with the armed settler militia wiped out, without wasting a single bullet, more than 600 Kyrgyz, by battering them with sticks, hatchets, and pitchforks. Those still alive were then run over by loaded carts. The same day, the bloodthirsty punishers made several raids into neighboring volosts, where they robbed, and then killed all the remaining Kyrgyz. A certain Poltavsky complained: "While pitchforking this Kyrgyz horde, I broke the new pitchfork, I should have taken the old one. [28] Unlike the socialist national historiographies, few in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan doubt the ethnic motivation of violence. Naturally, one of the more common terms for the events of 1916 is the politically tinged “kyrgyn” or extermination in Kyrgyz. As Imankulov suggests: “the measures undertaken by the Russian regime to suppress the uprising devolved into the mass extermination of the Kyrgyz people,” who “under the threat of genocide” fled hastily to China.[29] Perhaps, the most radical break from the Soviet perspective on Kyrgyz history is to be found at how contemporary society views the history of Central Asia and Kyrgyzstan’s accession to the USSR. For many the October revolution was the salvation from complete annihilation. A casual conversation with many of the elderly Kyrgyz will reveal the belief that the great leader saved the Kyrgyz from being massacred to the last man. In large measure, these messianic visions of Lenin were a part of the Soviet project of legitimating the existing social power relations.[30] But this loyalty too is gradually fading. The film director and journalist of the Kyrgyz branch of the Radio Freedom, Amanbek Japarov, draws a parallel between Tsarist Russia and the Soviet Union; he sees the Soviet-grown native intelligentsia of Kyrgyzstan—the aforementioned Yusup Abdrakhmanov, his successor Bayaly Isakeev, and the first Minister of Education Kasym Tynystanov, all of whom were purged during Stalin’s “Great Terror” of 1936-1938—as the crusaders who literally “laid their heads” for the Kyrgyz independence.[31] Others, like the cardiologist Nurjamal Amanalieva link the Urkun to the later “basmachi” movement of Central Asia in the 1920s and 1930s: “Later, after the establishment of the Soviet power, our ancestors or basmachi as they were called by the Soviets, tried to fight for their rights and freedom, but the forces were unequal.”[32] Sometimes the Soviet past is omitted altogether. In Nurbek Egen’s feature-length documentary on the history of the Kyrgyz, the almost seventy-year-long Soviet period receives no mention at all. In exploring the traumatic memory of the Urkun, it is perhaps appropriate to conclude that the public commemoration of the Urkun is marked by the coexistence of two major competing narratives: a Soviet tradition that, although successful at codifying the relationship of dependency, was challenged by the internal paradoxes of nation-building under the socialist façade; and a post-Soviet vision of the Urkun as a gateway to the past where heroic resistance to oppression and injustice, and

people’s courage and perseverance reinvent the nation that triumphed over adversity. “The Kyrgyz are impossible to destroy,” says one of the characters of Nurbek Egen’s documentary and “tragic events awaken (national consciousness) too,” reminds the historian Tynchtybek Tchorotegin.[33] At its core, the various definitions of the uprising remain sharp political and patriotic tools in service of a broader ideological agenda. Seemingly, the most neutral translation of “Urkun” (“exodus”) excuses itself from the attribution of past acts and enmities, simply referring to the events, but in doing so connotes an account of lawless and pre-civilized slaughter. In this definition the events echo as a foundational act of violence, which remains ambiguous on whose “manifest destiny” they express —Soviet or Kyrgyz. This can be contrasted with the politically fraught term of “Kyrgyn” which denotes the same act of violence in service of Kyrgyz independence. In this manner, the fragility and contradictions of the representations of Urkun are bound up in the political contradictions of the newly independent Kyrgyz state: one which simultaneously remains uncertain about the course of its political future, and uneasy in relating to the legacies of its Soviet past. Lined with busts of the leaders of Soviet Kyrgyzstan, the “Alley of Statesmen,” erected several years ago in the center of Bishkek, is curiously evocative of the elderly survivor’s nostalgia for the Soviet Union recounted above. A metaphor of the public memory in independent Kyrgyzstan, the alley is equally the celebration of the Soviet nation-building project as well as the commemoration of its victims. In part, this deep ambivalence appears to be a reaction to the continuing economic dependence on Russia and the consciously unapologetic stance of Moscow toward the nationalizing histories of the former Soviet republics. Yet the attempts to revise historical narratives of the Soviet past also obscure the complicity of local elites and the sincere belief of the local population in the Soviet modernity. Ultimately, the contemporary debate surrounding the uprising is a part of the larger question of reconciling the enduring emotional and cultural capital of the Soviet legacy with postSoviet nationalism. In the final analysis, the conflict between the Soviet narrative of the friendship of peoples and the actual collective memory remains complex and contradictory.

NOTES 1. Bruce Pannier, “Victims Of 1916 “Urkun” Tragedy Commemorated,” Radio Free Europe Radio Liberty (2006), accessed August 1, 2014, www.rferl.org/content/article/1070279.html. 2. Michael Denison, “The Art of the Impossible: Political Symbolism, and the Creation of National Identity and Collective Memory in Post-Soviet Turkmenistan,” Europe-Asia Studies 61, no. 7 (2009): 1168. 3. Nick Baron, “Perestroika, Politicians and Pandora’s Box. The Collective Memory of Stalinism During Soviet Reform,” European Review of History: Revue Europeenne

d’Histoire 4, no. 1 (1997): 75. 4. Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Samuel Moore, and David McLellan, The Communist Manifesto (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). 5. Terry Martin, The Affirmative Action Empire: Nations and Nationalism in the Soviet Union, 1923-1939 (New York: Cornell University Press, 2001), 8. 6. Grigory Broido, Vosstanie Kirgiz v 1916 g. [The Uprising of the Kirgiz in 1916] (Moscow: Nauchnaya Assotsiatsiya Vostokovedeniya Pri TS.I.K. S.S.S.R., 1925), 1. 7. Yusup Abdrakhmanov, Dnevniki. Pis’ma k Stalinu [Diaries. Letters to Stalin] (Bishkek: Kyrgyzstan Press, 1991), 218. 8. Ibid. 9. Arup Banerji, Writing History in the Soviet Union: Making the Past Work (New Delhi: Esha Beteille Social Science Press, 2008), 75. 10. Lowell Tillett, The Great Friendship: Soviet Historians on the Non-Russian Nationalities (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1969), 172. 11. Mikhail Kalishevsky, “Tragediya 1916 Goda: Devyanosto Pyat’ Let so Dnya Vosstaniya” [The Tragedy of 1916: 95 Years Since the Day of the Uprising], Fergana News (2011), accessed August 1, 2014, www.fergananews.com/article.php?id=7003. 12. Ibid. 13. Tillett, The Great Friendship, 180. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid. 16. Alexander Tuzov, “Kyrgyzstan—Serdtsem i Razumom,” [Kyrgyzstan—with Heart and Mind], Novaya Literatura Kyrgyzstana (2010), accessed August 1, 2014, www.literatura.kg/articles/?aid=765. 17. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (New York: Verso, 1991), 5. 18. Jacques Le Goff, History and Memory (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 98. 19. “Otechestvu Tyajelo Dostalas’ Svoboda” [Freedom did not Come Easily to the Fatherland], Azzatyk press (2012), accessed August 3, 2014, www.gezitter.org/politic/17133_otechestvu_tyajelo_dostalas_svoboda/. 20. Sally Cummings, “Soviet Rule, Nation and Film: The Kyrgyz ‘Wonder’ Years,” Nations and Nationalism 15, no. 4 (2009): 651. 21. The Birth of Manas as a Premonition. Dir. Nurbek Egen. Sanjyra, 2010. Film. 22. Ainura Kasymova, “Ne Preuspeet Pravitel’stvo, Otchujdayushee Svoyu Istoriyu” [The Government Alienating Its Own History will not Succeed), Uchur (2012), accessed August 3, 2014, www.gezitter.org/society/13321_ne_preuspeet_pravitelstvo_otchujdayuschee_svoyu_istoriyu 23. Almazbek Karypov, “Istreblenie Kyrgyzov” [The Extermination of the Kyrgyz], Alibi (2011), accessed August 3, 2014, www.gezitter.org/society/4292_istreblenie_kyirgyizov/. 24. Nurjamal Amanalieva, “Cherez Ternii k Zvezdam,” [Through Hardships to the

Stars], Radio Azattyk (2011), accessed August 1, 2014, rus.azattyk.org/content/kyrgyzstan_contest_bishkek_nurjamal_amanalieva/24406435.html/ 25. Baktybek Maksutov, “Vinavoty Li Kyrgyzy v Vozniknovenii Urkuna?” [Are the Kyrgyz guilty of Urkun], Alibi (2012), accessed August 1, 2014, www.gezitter.org/society/13168_b_maksutov_predsedatel_fonda_aykol_manas_bayanyi_vin 26. Pamir Kazybaev, “Tri Obraza Urkuna” [Urkun’s Three Images], Kyrgyz Ruhu (2011), accessed August 1, 2014, www.gezitter.org/society/4455_tri_obraza_urkuna_ishoda/. 27. Amanbek Japarov, “Taryhka Tak Salgan 1916 Jyl” [The 1916 Year That Left a Scar/Stain in History), Radio Azattyk (2012), accessed August 1, 2014, www.azattyk.org/content/kyrgyzstan_history/24661460.html/. 28. Muratbek Imankulov, Istoriya Kyrgyzstana [The History of Kyrgyzstan], (Bishkek: Kitep Company, 2006), 16. 29. Ibid., 17. 30. Sally Cummings, “Soviet Rule, Nation and Film,” 651. 31. Japarov, “Taryhka tak salgan 1916 jyl.” 32. Nurjamal Amanalieva, “Cherez Ternii k Zvezdam.” 33. Jakshylyk Berdibek uluu, “Ne Nado Stydit’sya Nazyvat’ Sobytiya 1916 Goda ‘Urkunom’” [One should not be ashamed of calling the events of 1916 the “Urkun”], Press.kg (2012), accessed August 1, 2014, www.gezitter.org/society/13322_ne_nado_styiditsya_nazyivat_sobyitiya_1916_goda_urkuno

Chapter 4

Does Being Kyrgyz Mean Being a Muslim? David Radford Emergence of New Ethno-Religious Identities in Kyrgyzstan The collapse of the Soviet Union that led to the emergence of newly independent states engendered a host of challenges for their governments. In the midst of rapid changes that took place in all areas of political and socio-economic life of their societies, the leadership of these states was presented with a thorny issue of formation of the new national identities for the young republics. Of particular interest to this chapter is the developments related to the revitalization of religion in the postSoviet Central Asia. Sunni Islam has been a major religion of the peoples of this region. Suppressed during the Soviet time, Islam returned to the post-independence republics in a process variously labeled as “Islamic revival,” “re-Islamization,” and “Islamic renaissance.” The renewal of Muslim awareness and identity in Central Asia is unsurprising. After all, both the Soviet and post-Soviet governments and religious authorities in Central Asia have reinforced a strong association between religion and ethnicity and many Central Asian Muslims continue to view their Muslimness as indispensible to and integral with their ethnic identity. What has been overlooked is the growth of Christianity, especially in its Protestant form, among indigenous Muslim communities. This chapter examines the trend of religious conversion to Protestant Christianity in Kyrgyzstan and attempts to explain the change of faith that challenges core issues of family, community, and national and religious identity in this newly independent republic in Central Asia. It considers the intersections between religion and ethnic identity within the national identity constructs highlighting how normative and historical constructs are challenged by religious innovation and conversion. Conversion to Christianity has understandably brought with it a number of challenges, one of the most important being that of identity. While challenging traditional understanding of Kyrgyz ethnic identity as one deeply associated with being Muslim, Kyrgyz Christians seek to affirm both their new religious faith and their sense of Kyrgyz identity. Embracing the Christian faith strikes at the very heart of Kyrgyz ethnic identity and challenges normative identity constructs that “to be Kyrgyz is to be Muslim.” In this chapter I explore how Kyrgyz Christians have challenged this understanding by reconstructing their sense of ethnic identity—of what it means to be Kyrgyz—beyond a strictly Muslim framework. In this process Kyrgyz Christians have sought to locate their new Christian religious identity within, rather than on the margins, of familial and ethnic identity, in this way challenging the normative understanding of Kyrgyz identity.

Nationalism and Identity Construction in Central Asia seeks to locate the varied ways in which nationalisms and identities are being transformed in Central Asia. This chapter follows this theme by highlighting the ways in which new and old dimensions of identity are instrumental in forging innovative manifestations of Central Asian identity. Understanding the dynamics of this newly forming identity creation enables us to grasp some of the ways in which these broader processes of change are taking place. In this case study of Kyrgyz Christians, new dimensions of identity construction are taking place as Kyrgyz Christians build upon traditional aspects of Kyrgyz identity while blending them with non-traditional aspects. Although the dimensions and dynamics of these changes revolve around religion, they are not derived from the presumed and rarely questioned association between Kyrgyz ethnicity and Islam. This chapter further outlines some of the ways that Kyrgyz Christians have discursively constructed, and then lived out, this new “Kyrgyz Christian” religio-ethnic identity. It also considers the role that various actors have played in driving this discourse and the strategies employed to promote and defend this new identity innovation in the Kyrgyz community. These changes have not gone without opposition, and reactions to this process of giving new meaning to the basis for religious identity for Kyrgyz are also investigated. The following discussion shows how Kyrgyz Christians have navigated and negotiated their way through a “crisis in ethnic identity” explored primarily using interview data collected through in-depth interviews in Kyrgyzstan during a period of field research between 2004–2008. Included in the exploration is a summary of the difficulties that Kyrgyz Christians have faced from the wider Kyrgyz community in this “religious switching,” and the way Kyrgyz Christians have responded to these by reconstructing Kyrgyzness, that is, Kyrgyz identity, through a number of different “discourse strategies.” Of interest is the way these discourse strategies reflect the process of the instrumentalization of religion (Islam) and Kyrgyz culture, history, language, and tradition by Central Asian government authorities and public officials in Kyrgyzstan, as they seek to build a national identity of Kyrgyzstan through a state-led nation-building process. In the context of this chapter, instrumentalization of religion (culture, history, etc.) refers to the utilization of selected aspects of faith (cultural tradition, historical narrative, and others) through its various discursive representations for accomplishing distinctive political goals.

RELIGION, ETHNICITY, AND NATIONALISM IN THE CENTRAL ASIAN CONTEXT Religious conversion fundamentally addresses issues of identity and the case of Kyrgyz conversion to Protestant Christianity touches on issues related to the topic of religion, identity, and nationalism in post-Soviet Central Asian states. It is important that any interpretation of religious conversion and the meaning associated with this process for the individuals and their identity should be understood in light of the social, religious, and necessarily cultural context, in which it takes place. One important

aspect of identity in this context is that of ethnicity and the role that religion plays in ethnic identity.[1] The “converting choice” that Kyrgyz Christians have made strikes at the heart of both individual and community identity and impinges on both ethnicity and religion, and the construction of identity. For most indigenous Central Asians, to be Central Asian—be it Kyrgyz, Uzbek, Tajik, or Kazakh—is to be Muslim.[2] As one Uzbek put it, “Anyone who knows that he is an Uzbek knows that he is a Muslim. The main basis for being an Uzbek is to be a Muslim. There is no O’zbekchilik [Uzbekness] without Musulkmanchilik [Muslimness].”[3] Muslim religion and ethnicity have been deeply entwined in Central Asian identity.[4] However, while there are differences across the region, with Uzbekistan often considered to have a greater degree of religiousness than other places in Central Asia, what it means “to be Muslim” has been largely, though not entirely, understood to be a marker of ethnicity and national traditions rather than a reflection of an individual person’s adherence to Islamic religious belief and practice.[5] It is not surprising, therefore, that during the Soviet period many Central Asians found little difficulty between simultaneously holding seemingly contradictory identities—being a Muslim, an atheist, or a communist, as well as being a Kyrgyz, Kazakh, or Uzbek. One Kazakh stated, “I am an atheist but also a Muslim because all Kazakhs are Muslims and I cannot deny my forefathers.”[6] The construction of Central Asian identities has a long history, particularly in relationship to the way it was employed by the Tsarist and later Soviet Union authorities, the emerging construction of national identity that followed the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the birth of newly independent states.[7] During the Tsarist and Soviet periods the designation of “Muslim” in Central Asia came to be recognized as an ethnic identifier for those indigenous communities from the region as much to distinguish these communities from non-indigenous communities (such as the Russian community) as it was for administration purposes. In the post-Soviet period Islam and ethnicity has been instrumentalized by the political elites as part of the nation building process to create a sense of unity and encourage harmony among ethnically diverse populations, cementing it by appeals to a common Islamic tradition. Islam and ethnicity have also been used as a way to buttress political legitimacy and national and Islamic credentials of the ruling elites.[8] For the titular, majority ethnic peoples, such as the Kyrgyz in Kyrgyzstan, extra effort was exerted into reiterating ethnicity, religion (primarily as cultural heritage), history, folk heroes, and language in the formation of national identity.[9] Thus, as the experiences of post-Soviet Central Asian states convincingly demonstrate, identity is a social construct in which the content and meaning is frequently contested and open to change, adaptation, and interpretation.[10] While, as it has already been mentioned, there is a strong connection between religion and ethnic identity,[11] there are also other ways to define one’s identity outside of religious labels such as through kinship, tribe, clan, language, and region,[12] or outside of traditional religious labels.[13] The ideological and psychological vacuum created in the

context of rapid and widespread changes as a result of the sudden collapse of the Soviet Union and resulting emergence of newly independent states was not only an opportunity for elites to construct national identities, it was also an opportunity for individuals, non-governmental entities, and groups that operate outside of the religious and political confines of the governing regime to do likewise. It is in this context that dominant or normative religious sources of ethnic or national identity may find themselves in competition with contested sources of religious imagination including new religious denominations that may potentially be seen as a threat to ethnic identity.[14]

RESIGNIFICATION OF THE SOURCES OF IDENTITY: DEFINING KYRGYZNESS OUTSIDE OF THE TRADITIONAL RELIGIOUS LABELS The changes that took place around the demise of the Soviet Union in 1991 resulted in an array of religious opportunities, some new and some old, that were suddenly available for all Kyrgyzstan citizens regardless of ethnicity or religion. The following years witnessed a flourishing religious market,[15] which has seen a rise in public religious observance and commitment to both orthodox (Sunni) and “traditional,” or “popular,” forms of Islam.[16] Along with these largely peaceful and apolitical forms of Islamic revival, Central Asia has experienced the growth of political and radical Islamic movements. Still, other competing expressions of the Islamic faith have been promoted by foreign Islamic groups including those coming from the Middle East, Turkey, and Pakistan.[17] Increasingly Kyrgyzstan has also witnessed the growth of numerous Protestant Christian and non-Christian denominations and sects. These included groups as varied as the Baptists, Pentecostals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, the Baha’is, and the Hare Krishnas[18] largely arriving from the United States, Western Europe, and South Korea.[19] One of the results of these increasing proselytizing activities, taking place as they did in an environment of rapid change and a transforming marketplace of religious ideas, was that it opened up the possibility for Kyrgyz conversion to Protestant Christianity. Exact numbers of Kyrgyz Christians are not available. Estimates vary between ten thousand and one hundred thousand[20] in less than two decades. This larger figure does appear exaggerated and estimates closer to twenty thousand, out of a total Kyrgyz (ethnic) population of about 3.6 million, seem more realistic.[21] Given the radical nature of this event within the Kyrgyz community, it is not unexpected that Kyrgyz Christians would seek to re-define, to find new meaning to what was occurring both within their lives personally and for this new religious movement within the Kyrgyz community. In particular, a resignification outside of traditional religious labels has taken place concerning the sources and core meaning of Kyrgyz identity. The introduction of Protestant Christianity into the Kyrgyz community is quite

remarkable due to the fact that until the period around independence there were few known Kyrgyz Christians and virtually no known Kyrgyz Church.[22] Those Kyrgyz who identified with Protestant Christianity risked rejection from the Kyrgyz community. Kyrgyz Christians have had to respond to a number of accusations from the Kyrgyz community, which highlight the differentness associated with conversion to Christianity. These accusations can be summed up in several re-occurring statements: “You have ‘betrayed,’ your faith, your family, your community, and your ancestors”; “You were born Muslim”; and, “You have become Russian.” These accusations highlight the perception that Christianity is alien to or in some way not belonging to Kyrgyz identity. These various terms were used as synonyms to describe a person who has committed treason, one who has violated Kyrgyz identity and brought shame on the community. The label “Russian” for a Kyrgyz Christian is not simply about being “Russified,” one who accepts Russian ways of life and thinking. It is a term that implies one has forsaken one’s core identity. In other words, Christianity is viewed as a foreign (Russian) religion and Jesus as a foreign (Russian) God. It is the case that it is often at the point of crisis, such as when identity and belonging is questioned or threatened or when one is accused of joining or being the “other” that issues of identity come to the fore in personal reflection or group reaction. This is the situation with those Kyrgyz Christians interviewed by the author who, in response to real or perceived opposition—which largely came from close and distant relatives, the local community, and Muslim religious authorities—utilized a number of different discourse strategies to counteract these accusations. As will be discussed these discourse strategies have included affirmation, critique, and reinterpretation of Kyrgyzness, or Kyrgyzchylyk. The conversion of the Kyrgyz to Protestant Christianity falls right into the heart of the issues already discussed in relation to the construction of ethnic identity. It is important to understand not just why or how the Kyrgyz make their choice to convert, but how they then construct or reconstruct their sense of Kyrgyz identity in light of the prevailing understanding and promotion of the idea that “to be Kyrgyz is to be Muslim.” While it may be a truism to say that in the Central Asian scenario, “to be Kyrgyz is to be Muslim,” Kyrgyz Christians, in choosing a religious identity at odds with wider Kyrgyz society, challenge this understanding. For instance, in the case of Kyrgyz Christians, when a person no longer considers him/herself to be Muslim, but identifies him- or herself as being Christian do they cease being Kyrgyz because they no longer identify themselves as Muslim? These questions are not new—the accusation that “Christianity is a foreign religion” or the “religion of the West” has been made, from Asia to Africa, over centuries. For societies that place a high value on family, community, and their ancestors, religious conversion has significant repercussions that require navigating and negotiating multiple identities[23] and adapting them to their local context. The Kyrgyz situation highlights these very issues and, as will be discussed further, the converting choice for Kyrgyz Christians has involved adaptation within their local context. In this way, the Kyrgyz Christians have constructed their identity. These Kyrgyz consider themselves to be Christians but still

feel deeply “Kyrgyz” and look for ways to affirm that identity.

DISCOURSE STRATEGIES UTILIZED BY KYRGYZ CHRISTIANS TO RECONSTRUCT ETHNIC IDENTITY Muslim Religious Symbols and Kyrgyz Behavior One way that Kyrgyz Christians have addressed the challenge of the KyrgyzMuslim identity dialectic is by interacting directly with Muslim religious symbols and Kyrgyz behavior. Specifically, some Kyrgyz Christians build on biblical representations in the Qur’an. They claim to actually be “true Muslims,” and challenge the authentic Muslimness of the Kyrgyz. As a form of apologetic, common prophets (pegambar) and stories within the Qur’an and the Bible are utilized to build bridges of communication, to move a discussion from the Qur’an to the Bible. By finding continuity with some religious language and meaning, Kyrgyz Christians seek to reduce the distance created by conversion and use terminology that has some resonance with the Kyrgyz worldview. As one Kyrgyz Christian told the author, “[My grandmother] also knew about Jesus. Her grandparents had told her about the prophets. . . . Maybe she would have not received him if she heard something like Esus Kristos in Russian but when she heard Jesus the prophet, Isa Pegambar [in the Kyrgyz language], she was able to receive it because it was something that she had heard before.” Kyrgyz Christians react to the challenge that a Kyrgyz is supposed to be a Muslim by also appealing to what they refer to as “the true meaning of Muslim.” They suggest that those Kyrgyz who call themselves Muslim do not know what the real meaning of a “Muslim” is. These Kyrgyz Christians claim that if Kyrgyz Muslims knew what the real meaning of “Muslim” was they would realize two things. First, they would understand that they are really not Muslims, and therefore should not judge or accuse Kyrgyz Christians of betraying their community. And second, Kyrgyz Christians are in fact “true Muslims” and can more rightly be called Kyrgyz than most Kyrgyz, if indeed a Kyrgyz is supposed to be a Muslim. One Kyrgyz Christian commented: People don’t understand what the word Muslim means. . . . a Muslim means one who is subject to God. And being subject to God means that you don’t drink, you don’t smoke, and you don’t do bad things. When people say that “you have betrayed your religion” . . . I respond by saying, “If you are a Muslim, what are you doing? You are not subject to God. You are doing bad things [drinking vodka, smoking, lying, etc.]. I am a true Muslim because I am doing all the commandments of God and I am subject to God.” Some Kyrgyz Christians therefore claim that if “Muslim[-]ness” is how a Kyrgyz should be identified, then they have more right to be called a Kyrgyz than their Muslim

Kyrgyz accusers. In this discourse strategy, rather than rejecting outright the assumption that “to be Kyrgyz is to be Muslim” Kyrgyz Christians appropriate the expression and redefine the meaning behind the words. The Kyrgyz Christian quoted above believes that they are submitted to God and that this is exemplified by their upright moral behavior. In that sense Kyrgyz Christians understand that they have upheld the religious and/or moral imperative implied in Kyrgyz identity, in Kyrgyzness.

History as Content and History as Discourse Another way that Kyrgyz Christians have answered their critics has to do with history. In this case history has to do with continuity with the traditions, values, significant events, and the ancestors. The following represents comments from two people interviewed: Islam came centuries ago but before Islam came we were Kyrgyz. . . . We worshipped the sun, we worshiped mountains, we worshiped some things from nature and we were Kyrgyz. And then Islam came… But there are so many Kyrgyz who are not Muslims and this does not . . . make them any less Kyrgyz.. . . I told the mullah, I wasn’t born as an Arab. I wasn’t born English. I was born Kyrgyz. And I was in Kyrgyzstan in the mountains. That’s why God is for me here. If God created me Kyrgyz then he understands Kyrgyz. It’s no use for me to memorize words in Arabic. There is no need for me to grow beard. I can’t grow beard, that’s how God created me. If God created me like that I should stay like this. While there is acknowledgement that Islam has had a place in Kyrgyz history, the emphasis is on its relatively recent engagement with the Kyrgyz people. “Centuries ago” before Kyrgyz were Muslims, they were still Kyrgyz, but they were shamans with some affinity to Mongolia. It is also noteworthy that the association is made between Islam and Arab people, culture and language as a point of differentiation from Kyrgyz people. The association implies that Islam was a foreign intrusion into the Kyrgyz and not originally or essentially a part of who the Kyrgyz were as a people. The implication is that if Kyrgyz were not always Muslims but were nevertheless Kyrgyz, then it is possible for Kyrgyz Christians to still be Kyrgyz even though they are not Muslim. The references made to the Kyrgyz Christians’ birth, to the mountains (the symbolic geographical representation of the Kyrgyz homeland), and to their lack of being able to grow a beard, are references to their Kyrgyz identity. The logic for these Kyrgyz Christians is as follows. If God created them Kyrgyz, then God should be able to understand them when they pray in Kyrgyz. They should not have to pray in Arabic (or in English for that matter) or memorize a language that was not their own. The association that has been made is that Islam is deeply connected to Arab [non-Kyrgyz] culture and ways, rather than to Kyrgyz

culture and ways. Kyrgyz Christians also hold that history shows that Kyrgyz ancestors were in fact Christians before they were Muslims! Kyrgyz Christians have found ways to affirm the fact that their ancestors were also Christians and that Christianity is intimately linked with the Kyrgyz people. If their ancestors were Christians then they can be Christians today as well. Kyrgyz Christians find similarity between Kyrgyz traditions and Biblical traditions, they find Biblical meaning in important Kyrgyz symbols, and they find Christian words in the Kyrgyz language. One Kyrgyz Christian commented, “I actually started to study the history of the Christian church [in Kyrgyzstan]. And what I found out was that the first Christian missionaries . . . came here a lot earlier than Islam came with the Arabs and I realized that being Muslim is not being a part of . . . the original [Kyrgyz] history. . . . In fact Christianity was here before Islam came, so it [Islam] cannot be a part of our heritage, it cannot be a part of our identity as a Kyrgyz nation, as a Kyrgyz ethnicity.” There is documentary evidence that a strong Nestorian Christian church existed within the present geographical area of Kyrgyzstan (up to about the fourteenth century), as well as in other regions of Central Asia.[24] Local historical ruins and sites that have Christian origins are held as proof of the pre-Islamic Christian history in the region. A discovery of an ancient Christian monastery in the northern Issyk-Kol region of Kyrgyzstan, which some claim to be the burial place of the Apostle St. Matthew, is further seen as evidence of those historical roots.[25] For some Kyrgyz Christians this shows continuity not discontinuity with the ancestors. Christianity is not seen as a new faith but the faith of the ancestors re-birthed, as it were, in the Kyrgyz community.

Kyrgyz Cultural Traditions, Language, and Symbols Another way in which Kyrgyz Christians address the issue of the supposedly Muslim identity of the Kyrgyz is by pointing to Kyrgyz cultural traditions, language, and symbols that show that the Kyrgyz are actually culturally close to the Christian faith. Old Testament traditions found in Kyrgyz cultural values and traditions are cited as examples of the historic connection between the Kyrgyz and Christianity. Phrases and terms in the Kyrgyz language are directly appropriated and interpreted through a new Christian framework. These expressions show for Kyrgyz Christians that there must have been Christian origins among their forbears for these phrases to be embedded in the Kyrgyz language. One Kyrgyz Christian found similarity between Old Testament traditions and Kyrgyz traditions: For example, when Jacob wrestled with God, God touched his hip and he became lame. And it’s written that the children of Israel don’t eat the tendon of the hip [of a sheep]. And for a long time Kyrgyz also pulled off the tendon of the hip . . . I think that Christianity belongs to Kyrgyz . . . Kyrgyz knew about Christ a long time ago. [Also] [w]hen I was little when my mother scolded me and she used to say, “Why

are you sitting in a respected place? Are you Mashaiak? [Then] sit in a different [less prominent] place.” And Kyrgyz when they love their children they say in Kyrgyz “ailanain, kagilain,” which means, “may I be crucified for you.” . . . Mashaiak means Christ, Saviour. Mashaiak means the most powerful and highest one. That means God, Christ. . . . Kyrgyz cultural symbols are also reinterpreted as having biblical origins or at least as having strong biblical meaning and association. One example of this reinterpretation concerns the boz ui (yurt), which is the traditional nomadic home for the Kyrgyz. It is made up of large numbers of sheep skins spread over a wooden frame with an opening at the top to let smoke from cooking escape, and to allow sunlight to come in. The wooden lattice (tunduk), which comes together over the top of the boz ui, is also represented as the main symbol on the Kyrgyz flag. One Kyrgyz Christian explained the similarity between Christianity and Kyrgyz traditions by citing the example of the boz ui: Even if we take the boz ui, God commanded to put the sign of the blood at the entrance of the [Israelite] homes to protect the people from His judgment. . . . We still keep this [tradition] because the wood of the entrance of the boz ui is supposed to be painted with red. The tunduk had three woods [criss-crossed in a lattice design] and symbolizes the cross. And also it symbolizes the Trinity— God [the Father], Son and the Holy Spirit. It symbolizes the three in one God. And light comes through the Trinity. Our women are supposed to wake up early to open the roof in the morning to receive blessing. Not only does this Kyrgyz Christian find parallels between the boz ui and the events of the Bible, he also then goes on to interpret and explain New Testament theology, the Trinity, using those very same symbols. New Testament ideas are utilized as interpretative instruments in explaining and justifying their conversion, as a Kyrgyz, to the Christian faith. This emphasizes the way Kyrgyz Christians have utilized the introduced “conversion artefacts”[26] as interpretative lenses to make sense of their conversion in light of ethnic identity. The indigenizing process and in turn, the reconstruction of ethnic identity takes place when members of the existing community take introduced non-indigenous artifacts and fuse them into an identity construction that “feels their own” and makes explanatory sense. By locating their Christian faith within the symbolic representations of their culture and community, Kyrgyz Christians are finding their new religious identity rooted in their Kyrgyzness. As one Kyrgyz Christian put it, “We do not come to new faith; our old faith came back to us.”

Religion Is a Matter of Choice Not Birth Other Kyrgyz Christians have also responded to those who accuse them by claiming that religious identity should be viewed as fundamentally a matter of choice

occurring after birth. One Kyrgyz Christian commented, “I would never say that Kyrgyz should be Muslim. . . . Because religion is something that people have to choose. . . . I think that is why many Kyrgyz have become believers, it’s because they had a choice. They had a choice to believe in Christ or to be a Muslim. And that is a big difference.” This view suggests that religious identity is a response people make in life and to their environment, not as something constituted or dependent on one’s national community or ethnicity. Islamic religion, according to this view, is something that people have created and constructed. People choose to believe in religion, and at some point in history Kyrgyz ancestors chose to accept Islam as a religion and incorporated it into Kyrgyz identity. Kyrgyz Christians now claim the same right to choose a different religious identity challenging any essentialist claims that Kyrgyz are born Muslims. Challenging tradition and normative ideas of the inherent (primordial) nature of religious identity in assumed ethnic identity, Kyrgyz Christians claim the right to choose, and to choose something different from what most of their community hold. Akin to Peyrouse’s argument[27] that in post-Soviet Central Asia there has been an “individualization of Islam” or of religion generally, and of the prevalence of “subjective identities,”[28] Kyrgyz Christians seek alternative “non-Muslim” identities, albeit constructed from both indigenous and external “artifacts.” Other Kyrgyz have taken this further and insist on a pre-Islamic, pre-Christian identity associated with the more ancient Kyrgyz shamanistic/animistic beliefs and practices of Tangrism.[29]

One Is Born a Kyrgyz Kyrgyz Christians, in another discourse strategy, claim that Kyrgyzness is mainly related to one’s birth. One’s primary ethnic identity is that which links a person by blood to the people who have the same biological origins as oneself. These can be summed up in key phrases from those who were interviewed: “Certainly, I am a Kyrgyz . . . because I am born a Kyrgyz. I cannot be different,” “. . . and I will die a Kyrgyz,” “Some people say as long as you are born as Kyrgyz you are Muslim. But I do not agree with this. I say, I was not born as a Muslim I was born as a Kyrgyz.” To be identified as being in the “in-Kyrgyz” group is to be born into a Kyrgyz family. The inference is that once you are born into a Kyrgyz family you cannot be unborn out of it. There is some sense here in which identity has to do with essentialist qualities— one does not choose one’s parents and one’s ancestry. What a blood or birth connection means depends on a social context but that one was born is not constructed, it is a fact.

Divine Election—“God Created Me Kyrgyz” Some Kyrgyz Christians claim divine election to justify their Kyrgyz status, “God created me Kyrgyz.” Soviet education and ideology did much to remove religious capital in Kyrgyz society. Religious institutions, religious authority, and religious rites

were severely weakened through political and social controls. Many Kyrgyz assumed a communist-secular outlook—a Darwinian scientific explanation for the evolution of life, and a religiously disinterested predisposition. While this apparent lack of interest in the religion did not mean that all things religious were completely removed from Kyrgyz thinking, post-Socialist religious revitalization has re-introduced the sense of the divine and transcendental from the peripheral into a more prominent place in the world view for a growing number of Kyrgyz. This is certainly the case for Kyrgyz Christians. A twenty-five-year-old married man, who works with a non-government organization in the south of Kyrgyzstan, had some clear ideas about what it means for him to be Kyrgyz. The first important thing is God created me as a Kyrgyz. . . . My being is Kyrgyz and I was created as a Kyrgyz. . . . Every nation was given by God a special characteristic, and there are special characteristics given by God to Kyrgyz. . . . I am proud because Kyrgyz is a nation created by God and I am among them. And Kyrgyz are ancient people. I am proud because Kyrgyz have a long history. What is important for this respondent is that he believes that he is created by God to be Kyrgyz. He has divine sanction as an individual to be Kyrgyz. It is not just that this respondent believes that he has been created by God as an individual, but that his people, the Kyrgyz people, have also been created by God as a community, “a nation,” of which he is a member. Conversion to Christianity has reinforced a sense of the divine, of personal religiosity, and in turn strengthened his sense of pride in his ethnic identity. The religious factor implies that identity is not simply a “secular” or “this-worldly” phenomenon made up of features such as race, blood, language, customs, traditions, and ideas, but also involves supra-natural “artifacts”—the idea of the divine, of a God, who is personally and actively involved. It is here that Kyrgyz Christians part ways with traditional constructions of Kyrgyz identity. For, while Kyrgyz Muslims would recognize the idea of the divine in Kyrgyz identity, it is restricted to the view that “to be Kyrgyz is to be Muslim.” This implies that one is born Muslim as well as Kyrgyz, at least in the common or accepted understanding of the community. Kyrgyz Christians acknowledge the hand of God in Kyrgyz nationhood, as a community, but they challenge the idea that religion as represented by particular human traditions, institutions, religious identities, beliefs, or practices, or that it is something that one is born with.

The Metaphysical, Internationalist, or Global Identity— the “De-ethnicization” of God A final discourse strategy reveals how Kyrgyz Christians have looked at reconstructing identity by focusing on the global nature of Christian identity. This perspective plays down the distinctiveness of Kyrgyz ethnicity in relation to the commonality of all peoples, all ethnicities, and all “nations.” Christ is not an ethnic God

or a foreign God. He does not belong to Kyrgyz alone, or to Russians, but to all peoples. Here, the refrain is not about the “Russian God” or the “Kyrgyz God,” common in many of the narratives, but about a form of the “de-ethnicized of God.” “For me it doesn’t matter if a person is Kyrgyz or American because we are all God’s children.” Religious conversion provides a re-orientation of identity that transcends issues of ethnic identity. Yes, they are Kyrgyz in the flesh, as one respondent put it, but their essential identity goes beyond ethnicity. Religious conversion appeals to a higher authority as the basis for constructing identity. The authority for this “transcendent identity” is said to come from the Bible, which has become the new source or reference point for interpreting identity. “There is no difference for me. . . . The Word of God says . . . God created everyone [all ethnicities] . . . God is the God of all peoples . . . we all come from one Father . . . Jesus should be the faith of all mankind.” In this construct, the sense of divine calling is now taken a step further. They are Kyrgyz, but more than Kyrgyz, they are God’s children. Further, it is not only the Kyrgyz, but all humanity, all ethnicities who “are one nation in God.” While this apparent “de-ethnicization” seems in contradiction to the previous discourses, which seem to emphasize commonality or affinity with Kyrgyz culture/ethnicity, it is important to recognize that though some effort has been made to reduce direct association between Kyrgyz Christian faith and Russian ethnicity, this does not preclude an identity construct that finds a level of affinity with a global religious identity such as “world Christianity.” Kyrgyz Christian identity becomes simultaneously both a local and global construct. While one cannot discount the potential genuine reflexiveness on the part of Kyrgyz Christians who make this “globalist or de-ethnicization” identity shift, I suggest that it is also a reflection of the globalization process associated with the causes and effects of the sudden independence of new Central Asian states such as Kyrgyzstan, and the openness to new and “foreign” ideas, ways, and influence—political, economic, technological, and religious. In the spiritual and societal vacuum there is a felt need to belong to and identify with something far bigger than Kyrgyzstan and Central Asia. It may also be a reflection of the role and influence that foreign missionaries have had on the Kyrgyz Christian movement.[30]

DISCUSSION AND CONCLUSION National identities fostered by the Soviet Union were transformed into remodeled “post-Soviet” national identity formations in the newly independent states, such as Kyrgyzstan. A major difference was that religion as a category of identity increasingly played a greater role in this national identity formation. The reinforcement and promotion of Kyrgyz ethnic identity in Kyrgyzstan during and post-independence has directly affected the role that religion has played in this process. In the case of Kyrgyz Christianity, new religious frameworks have been incorporated into a heightened sense of nationalism, but with the attempt to exclude, change, or reconstruct the religious factor as an essentialist element in the sense of ethnic or

national identity. The example of Kyrgyz Christianity discussed in this chapter is the result of extensive research that included in-depth interviews with forty-nine Kyrgyz Christians. Based on a thematic analysis of these interviews a number of key discourse strategies were identified, which reveal the different ways in which Kyrgyz Christians have utilized cultural and social material to interpret and express their new religious faith and in so doing attempt to re-construct ethnic identity. These discourse strategies involved a number of different elements. These have included the utilization of Muslim religious symbols and Kyrgyz behavior; the application of history as content and history as discourse; the re-imagination of Kyrgyz cultural traditions, language, and symbols; the viewing of religion as a matter of personal choice not birth; an understanding that one is born a Kyrgyz not a Muslim; a belief in divine election —“God made me Kyrgyz”; and the incorporation of a metaphysical, internationalist, or global identity. Recognizing their important role in nation building and quest for national stability, the questions of formation of national and ethnic identities have been the subject of lively academic debates informed by competing theoretical perspectives. As discussed in greater detail in the introduction to this volume, the two primary theories that form the basis for much of these debates are primordialism and constructivism. Primordialism suggests that ethnic identity is primarily rooted in factors such as “biological descent, kinship, language, locality, religion and other ‘immutable’ cultural traits” such as family, race, and blood.[31] It is these factors that drive ethnic identity and have an unchanging, essentialist quality. Constructivism is a more modern approach. It suggests that ethnic identity, like most other forms of identity, is constructed by individuals and groups in a social context using various “building materials,” social conditions, and social context.[32] The construction of identities uses building materials from history, geography, biology, productive, and reproductive institutions, collective memory, as well as personal fantasies, power apparatuses, and religious revelations. But individuals, social groups, and societies process all these materials and rearrange their meaning according to social determinations and cultural projects that are rooted in their social structure, and in their space/time framework.[33] While I would agree with Castells that individuals and social groups use multiple “building materials” in constructing their identities, I also concur with Smith who speaks of national identity as “a product of both ‘natural’ continuity and conscious manipulation.”[34] The same process can be found in the ways that Kyrgyz Christians have re-constructed their understanding of Kyrgyz ethnic identity. The case of Kyrgyz Christianity highlights the process of ethnic identity construction as an example of an ongoing dynamic process that includes primordial elements together with the conscious and unconscious “manipulation” of cultural and social artifacts. This chapter also argues that the end product of a new identity construction is often a form of hybridity—a combination in various identity formulations that incorporates and blends, and at times rejects, various aspects of the identity building

blocks. In the case of Kyrgyz Christians, these building blocks incorporate traditional Kyrgyz artifacts as well as those introduced through Protestant Christianity and/or directly or indirectly by foreign missionaries. Therefore, any national and ethnic identity that is constructed by individuals and groups can be re-constructed at any given time when the circumstances are “ripe” with “materials” that may be old, may be new. As Parekh states, “. . . if identities are the products of history, they can [also] be remade by history.”[35] Whatever form(s) the hybridity of Kyrgyz identity has taken, it nevertheless is experienced and understood to reflect Kyrgyzness (kyrgyzchylych) for Kyrgyz Christians. This emphasizes the point that both ethnic and nationalist identity discourses have an important subjective element that Smith termed the “social psychological dimension.”[36] Just because an identity is constructed or instrumentalized does not mean that it will find salience among the people who are the subject of the process. It finds salience when there is a sense in which the new identity construct invokes some feeling of personal and communal continuity—in the context under consideration it must also “feel” Kyrgyz to the person/communities concerned. While it appears that this is increasingly true for many Kyrgyz Christians, it is not necessarily felt the same way within the wider Muslim Kyrgyz community where there are varying, but increasing, levels of opposition and animosity towards Kyrgyz Christians.[37] In the communities of Muslim Kyrgyz, the utilization of Kyrgyz heritage in Kyrgyz Christianity is increasingly seen as being “even worse than becoming Russian [i.e., becoming an Orthodox Christian].”[38] It is worth noting that the identity project, if one can call it that, of this cultural sub-group of Kyrgyz Christians, runs to some degree in parallel with that of developing Kyrgyz national identity especially as it relates to the instrumentalization of Kyrgyz culture, language, history, and traditions by governing elites. The appropriation and affirmation of particular aspects of ethnic identity in its various forms are utilized as a means to legitimize both sub-group and national group identities. In doing so these Kyrgyz Christians affirm the nation-building exercise and the tools by which this is done but appropriate them differently by re-interpreting and reconstructing these tools, holding as it were, contestation and affirmation in paradox. It also reminds us that in the world that we live in today there is scope for multiple formations of [ethnic] identities, understood and interpreted in multiple ways by different actors with the realization that identity “is always constructed and situated in a field and amid a flow of contending cultural discourses.”[39] Many Kyrgyz Christians would claim that they live out the “true meaning of what a Muslim means,” as well as what it means “to be a Kyrgyz.” If certain features of Kyrgyz identity are considered a given, and are contentious when removed from the commonly held association with Kyrgyzness (such as being “Muslim”), then being Muslim itself is reconstructed within a new framework as not adherence to particular doctrines or rituals, but to a high moral standard of living. In fact a number of Kyrgyz Christians hold that their adherence to moral behavior that epitomizes Kyrgyz values

confirms the fact that they are actually the “true Kyrgyz” in the Kyrgyz community. This is perhaps an example of the desire to find meaning amidst the “moral malaise” that Kyrgyzstan suffered when the Soviet Union collapsed.[40] The all-encompassing, all-pervasive Soviet way of life dissolved rapidly and it was perhaps natural that in the resulting ideological and economic vacuum many Kyrgyz experienced new-found religious awakening. Of course, this religious awakening or revitalization was not exclusive to Protestant Christianity but included a wider interest in Islam as well. This was not simply about a concern with the deteriorating moral fabric of Kyrgyz society, with religion coming to the fore. It was also a concern with cultural legitimacy as individuals and the wider community searched for a greater sense of personal and national identity after independence. Opposition to and accusations of betraying the Kyrgyz community have provoked Kyrgyz Christians to intentionally find ways to link their new Christian faith with their understanding of Kyrgyz identity. Kyrgyz Christians have done so by [re-]constructing a Kyrgyz identity, which affirms their ethnic birth-right. Identity is then constructed utilizing cultural forms, language, and meaning, together with newly introduced “tools”—such as those offered by Protestant Christianity. By locating their Christian faith within the symbolic representations of their culture and community, Kyrgyz Christians are locating their new religious identity rooted in their sense of Kyrgyzness and within the wider Kyrgyz community, thus challenging the normative Kyrgyz construct that “to be Kyrgyz is to be Muslim.” This indeed may be the beginnings of what Peyrouse observed when he wrote of the changing religious scenario in Central Asia, Christianity . . . needs to be well planted among the natives [indigenous Central Asians]; otherwise it could eventually disappear as the religion of the former colonizers who have gone back home. Will there be a Central Asian Christianity [identity] which will no longer be linked to the colonial past of the area anymore and which will be able to become a native Christianity, as already the case in many Asian countries?[41] Only time will tell.

NOTES 1. Cynthia Enloe, “Religion and Ethnicity,” in Ethnicity, eds. John Hutchinson and Anthony D. Smith (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 189–97; Ian Gillman and Hans-Joachim Klimkeit, Christians in Asia Before 1500 (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1999); Hans Mol, “Introduction,” in Identity and Religion: International Cross-cultural Approaches, ed. Hans Mol (London: Sage, 1978); Kanatbek Murzakhalilov, “Proselytism in Kyrgyzstan, Central Asia, and the Caucasus,” Journal of Social and Political Studies 25, no. 1 (2004): 83–87. 2. Mariya Y. Omelicheva, “Islam in Kazakhstan: A Survey of Contemporary Trends

and Sources of Securitization.” Central Asia Survey 30, no. 2 (2011): 243–56. 3. Irene Hilgers, “The Regulation and Control of Religious Pluralism in Uzbekistan,” in The Post-Socialist Religious Question, ed. Chris Hann (Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2006), 76. 4. Mehrdad Haghayeghi, Islam and Politics in Central Asia (New York, NY: St. Martins Press, 1996); Beatrice Manz, “Historical Background,” in Central Asia in Historical Perspective, ed. Beatrice Manz (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998). 5. Omelicheva, Islam in Kazakhstan. 6. Ghoncheh Tazmini, “The Islamic Revival in Central Asia: A Potent Force or a Misconception?” Central Asian Survey 20, no. 1 (2001): 11. 7. Rogers Brubaker, “Nationhood and the National Question in the Soviet Union and Post-Soviet Eurasia: An Institutionalist Account,” Theory and Society 23, no. 1 (February 1994): 47–78; John Glenn, The Soviet Legacy in Central Asia (New York, NY: St. Martins Press, 1999); Francine Hirsch, “The Soviet Union as a Work-inProgress: Ethnographers and the Category Nationality in the 1926, 1937, and 1939 Censuses,” Slavic Review 56, no. 2 (1997): 251–78; Olivier Roy, The New Central Asia—The Creation of Nations (Washington Square, NY: New York University, 2000). 8. John Anderson, “Social, Political and Institutional Constraints on Religious Pluralism in Central Asia,” Journal of Contemporary Religion 17, no. 2 (2002): 181–96; Sebastien Peyrouse, “Christianity and Nationality in Soviet and Post-Soviet Central Asia: Mutual Intrusions and Instrumentalizations.” Nationalities Papers 32, no. 3 (2004): 651–74; Sebastien Peyrouse, “Islam in Central Asia: National Specificities and Post-Soviet Globilization,” Religion, State and Society 35, no. 3 (2007): 245–60. 9. Ghoncheh Tazmini, “The Islamic Revival in Central Asia: A Potent Force or a Misconception?” Central Asian Survey 20, no. 1 (2001): 63-83. 10. Jo-Ann Gross, “Introduction,” in Muslims in Central Asia, ed. Jo-Ann Gross (Durham, NC: Duke University, 1992), 1–26. 11. Frank W. Lewins, “Religion and Ethnic Identity,” in Identity and Religion: International Cross-cultural Approaches, ed. Hans Mol (London: Sage, 1978), 19–38. 12. Muruel Atkin, “Religious, National and Other Identities in Central Asia.” in Muslims in Central Asia, ed. Jo-Ann Gross (Durham, NC: Duke University, 1992), 46–72; M. Nazif Shahrani, “From Tribe to Umma: Comments on the Dynamics of Identity in Muslim Soviet Central Asia,” Central Asia Survey 3, no. 3 (1984): 27–38. 13. Muruel Atkin, “Religious, National and Other Identities in Central Asia.” in Muslims in Central Asia, ed. Jo-Ann Gross (Durham, NC: Duke University, 1992), 46–72; M. Nazif Shahrani, “From Tribe to Umma: Comments on the Dynamics of Identity in Muslim Soviet Central Asia,” Central Asia Survey 3, no. 3 (1984): 27–38. 14. Olga Kazmina and Olga Filippova, “Re-imagination of Religion in Post-Soviet Society: Challenges and Responses (Russian and Ukranian Case Studies),” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 73, no. 4 (2005): 1049–76. 15. Julie McBrien, “Extreme Conversations: Secularism, Religious Pluralism, and the Rhetoric of Islamic Extremism in Southern Kyrgyzstan,” in The Postsocialist Religious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East Central Europe, ed. Chris Hann (Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2006), 47–73; Mathijs Pelkmans, “Asymmetries on the Religious

Market,” in The Postsocialist Religious Question: Faith and Power in Central Asia and East Central Europe, ed. Chris Hann (Berlin: LIT Verlag, 2006), 29–46; Radford, “‘God created me Kyrgyz’.” 16. T. Jeremy Gunn, “Shaping an Islamic Identity: Religion, Islamism, and the State in Central Asia,” Sociology of Religion 64, no. 3 (2003): 389–410; Ferideh Heyat, “ReIslamisation in Kyrgyzstan: Gender, New Poverty and the Moral Dimension,” Central Asian Survey 23, no. 3-4 (2004): 275–87. 17. Shirin Akiner, “The Politicisation of Islam in Post-Soviet Central Asia,” Religion, State and Society 31 (2): 97–122. 18. Anderson, “Social, Political and Institutional Constraints on Religious Pluralism in Central Asia”; Gunn, “Shaping an Islamic Identity.” 19. Peyrouse, “Christianity and Nationality in Soviet and Post-Soviet Central Asia.” 20. Damir Ahmad, “Proselytization Eats Away at Muslim Majority in Kyrgyzstan” (2004), accessed October 1, 2004, www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/irf/2003/27209.htm. 21. The figure in Ahmad’s source was estimated in 2004. While neither Pelkmans nor McBrien offer the time frame for their estimates, Pelkmans undertook his research between 2003–2004 and McBrien undertook her research during the same period. My own estimation was made on the basis of fieldwork between 2004–2008. Julie McBrien and Mathijs Pelkmans, “Turning Marx on His Head: Missionaries, ‘Extremists’ and Archaic Secularists in Post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan,” Critique of Anthropology 28, no. 1 (2008): 87–103; Mathijs Pelkmans, “The ‘Transparency’ of Christian Proselytizing in Kyrgyzstan.” Anthropological Quarterly, 82, no. 2 (2009): 423–46; Radford, “‘God created me Kyrgyz.’” 22. The exception is a Kyrgyz church in the eastern Kyrgyzstan town of Naryn started by a Central Asian ethnic German during the mid-late 1980s. 23. Manuel Castells, The Power of Identity—The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture, 2nd ed. (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004). 24. Christoph Baumer, The Church of the East—An Illustrated History of Assyrian Christianity (London: I.B. Tauris, 2006); Ian Gillman and Hans-Joachim Klimkeit, Christians in Asia Before 1500 (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan, 1999). 25. Laurence Mitchell, Kyrgyzstan (Brant Travel Guides Ltd: Chalfont St. Peter, 2008). 26. Radford, “‘God created me Kyrgyz.’” 27. Peyrouse, “Islam in Central Asia.” 28. See also Omelicheva, “Islam in Kazakhstan.” 29. Heyat, “Re-Islamisation in Kyrgyzstan.” 30. Pelkmans, “Asymmetries on the Religious Market.” 31. Cengiz Surucu, “Modernity, Nationalism, Resistance: Identity Politics in PostSoviet Kazakhstan,” Central Asian Survey 21, no, 4(2002): 386 32. Castells, The Power of Identity. 33. Castells, The Power of Identity, 7. 34. Karen A. Cerulo, “Identity Construction: New Issues, New Directions,” Annual Review of Sociology 23, no. 1 (1997): 385–409.

35. David D. Laitin, Identity in Formation: The Russian-Speaking Populations in the Near Abroad (Cornell University Press, 1998), 13. 36. As cited in Cerulo, Identity Construction, 391. 37. Murzakhalilov, “Proselytism in Kyrgyzstan, Central Asia, and the Caucasus.” 38. Mathijs Pelkmans, “Culture as a Tool and an Obstacle: Missionary Encounters in Post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan,” Journal of the Anthropological Institute 13 (2007): 881–99. 39. Craig Calhoun, “Social Theory and the Politics of Identity,” in Social Theory and the Politics of Identity, ed. Craig Calhoun (Oxford, UK: Blackwell), 12. 40. Heyat, “Re-Islamisation in Kyrgyzstan.” 41. Peyrouse, “Christianity and Nationality in Soviet and Post-Soviet Central Asia,” 670.

Chapter 5

Nation-Building and Political Islam in Post-Soviet Tajikistan Kirill Nourzhanov Following the demise of the Soviet Union, the reshaping of national identity became a priority for regime survival in Central Asia, closely intertwined with the parallel challenges of economic transition and reorganization of the political space. Active loyalty to the nation-state has been cultivated and imposed by a whole gamut of policies and institutions. Language reforms favoring the eponymous ethnic group, the production of new symbols distinguishing a particular republic from both the erstwhile U.S.S.R. and neighbors, the rewriting of national histories conjuring up a mythical past capable of sustaining a country’s pride and justifying its domestic and foreign policies, and the proliferation of anniversaries, memorial services, and ethnic celebrations have all contributed to the socialization of the idea of a nation, that is, “a particular way of thinking about what it means to be a people, and how the people thus defined might fit into a broader world-system.”[1] The officially sanctioned national narratives do not exist in a vacuum. They have to fight for the hearts and minds of the people against alternative conceptualizations of group solidarity. In Özkirimli’s words, “we can only understand the nationalist discourse by asking ‘what other forms of potential community are ruled out, placed out of bounds,’ and ‘against what other forms of potential community are dominant projects placed.’”[2] In the case of Central Asia, Islam is often identified as the main challenger to the dominant nationalist project: “The most vexed question of contemporary Central Asian nationalisms is their relationship to Islam as the principal religion of all the titular nations in the region.”[3] This generalization requires some caveats. There is no denying the normative tension between the idea of a territorial and exclusive national identity on the one hand, and the universalist ummah on the other hand. There is not much special about Central Asia in this respect. The task that post-Soviet nation-builders have faced after independence is similar to the dilemma of many post-colonial leaders from Nasser to Jinnah to Sukarno: how to promote and co-opt indigenous Muslim sentiments into their vision of a cultural identity without creating a threat to their legitimacy. This balancing act has indeed been tricky at times, but secular regimes have shown an almost infinite capacity and creativity in achieving a desired synthesis. For Smith, rational parochial nationalism always remains at the core of such arrangements, regardless of its drawing upon “older religious motifs for its liturgy, symbolism and myth-making.”[4] Lindholm concurs, noting that even in two extreme cases where Islamic movements did lead to the proclamation of religious statehood, for example, in Iran and Saudi Arabia, they proved to be “inevitably susceptible to rationalisation, fragmentation, and a popular disappointment made more bitter by the great hopes that the movement has

aroused.”[5] The second caveat is that the main threat to the official nationalist projects in Central Asia has come from integration schemes sponsored by external actors, irredentist ethnic minorities, and especially sub-ethnic tribalism and regionalism, rather than the post-Soviet Islamic revival. Under the right conditions, the latter may actually assist the state in overcoming the fractures and tensions within the nation. Voll has pointed out to two possibilities in this regard.[6] Positioned as a worldview that is part of local culture, Islam could confer extra authenticity to the discourse of nationalism and forestall the rise of ideologies that are manifestly imported. It could also generate new ideas and even legislative frameworks that might contribute to society’s craving for development and social justice. This chapter examines the complex role Islam has played in the nation-building project in Tajikistan under President Emomali Rahmon. For each of the three distinct phases in the evolution of the dominant nationalist narrative, it will first discuss their major tropes and the place of Muslim themes, figures and values therein. It will then analyze the counter-narrative produced by the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan (IRPT). It will conclude with an account of the social and political context in which particular discursive strategies were engendered by both actors. The choice of the IRPT as a sole challenger to the official narrative is justified by the fact that it has been the only political actor in the country, which consciously and constantly engaged with the regime in the creation of national identity, while protagonists such as the traditional ‘ulama, transnational Islamist movements, or secular opposition parties have done this sporadically at best.

THE QUEST FOR A NATIONAL IDEA AFTER THE CIVIL WAR After years of low-intensity fighting, a settlement based on extensive power-sharing was reached in 1997 between President Emomali Rahmon, a Kulobi, and his opponents led by the IRPT head and chairman of the United Tajik Opposition, Sayyed Abdullo Nuri. The political and legal aspects dominated the reconciliation process. Disarmament and reintegration of the militia units into the government army, repatriation of refugees, liberalization of the political system and legalization of the IRPT, and appointment of opposition figures to executive positions were urgent and practical measures making the attainment of peace possible. The fundamental issue of weak national identity undermined by sub-ethnic regionalism remained unresolved, however, putting in jeopardy the long-term prospects for peace: “Inhabitants of each of these regions considered only themselves to be the real, ‘pure,’ ‘genuine’ representatives of their people, regarding others as Tajiks of sorts, surely, but not quite conforming to the ideal of ‘Tajikness.’”[7] The solemn Act on Mutual Forgiveness signed in June 1997 provided precious few insights into how the contracting parties would work together on producing a unifying nationalist narrative:

In the name of our homeland, the Republic of Tajikistan, which is the successor of spiritual, moral and ethical traditions of a statehood developed by Tajiks throughout ages; In memory of the pure souls of those who lost their lives; In memory of the victims of the period of confrontation and armed fighting; We forgive all those who took up arms and fought against each other during the period of the military and political confrontation; Let them forgive physical and spiritual wounds and offenses they inflicted on each other; May the wrath of the Almighty fall on those who will dare to take revenge or subject people to persecution in connection with the past conflict and may they be damned by the nation. We condemn the use of mass media for the purpose of making appeals directed against reconciliation, as well as settling old scores and publicly accusing each other.[8] By 2000, two distinct doctrines explicating the “spiritual, moral and ethical traditions” had begun to acquire shape. The narrative of national authenticity promoted by the government had a decidedly ethnocentric character and sought to foster national pride through appellation to the cultural exceptionalism of Tajiks, and their juxtaposition with the menacing and barbarian “other”—the Turkic peoples of Central Asia, Uzbeks in particular. The historical foundation of this identity comprised several elaborately constructed myths: the myth of descent linking Tajiks to the original Indo-Iranian inhabitants of Central Asia; the myth of the Golden Age, centered on the Samanid Dynasty that dominated the region in the ninth to tenth century CE; and the myth of national suffering and genocide under Turkic rulers who destroyed the Samanids and subjugated the Tajiks for centuries to come. The pantheon of national heroes populating this “plausible ethno-history”[9] came to incorporate such diverse figures as Spitamenes, Ismoil Somoni, and Soviet-era leaders Shirinsho Shotemur and Tursun Uljaboev. They were glorified as champions of all Tajiks who defended the people against external enemies (i.e., Macedonians, Turks, and Uzbeks, respectively), and in the process transcended their patrimonial loyalties and selfinterest in the service of the nation. A stand-out feature of Tajik exceptionalism presented by Rahmon’s government was its overt secularism. The special mission of the Tajiks as harbingers of civilization in Central Asia was couched in the language of their aboriginality, attachment to land, and innate psychological characteristics such as hospitality, industriousness, creativity, patience, and so on—something that the arrival of Islam may have preserved and perhaps deepened, but by no means engendered. A school history textbook for seventh grade devoted a third of its pages to the Samanid period as the high point of Tajik unity, cultural and economic achievement, and military might; yet it managed to avoid any references to the dynasty’s strong Islamic credentials, positioning it as a staunch opponent of the Abbasid Caliphate.[10] It provided only one

neutral reference to the Muslim leaders—labelled “the feudal clergy,” who were responsible for the construction of “many religious institutions, such as mosques and madrasas.”[11] Historical Islamic dignitaries were all but excluded from statesponsored celebration and commemoration, with one exception of a fourteenthcentury Sufi, Mir Said Ali Hamadoni, whose likeness appeared on the 10 somoni banknote in 1999, and whose name was given to a district in the Kulob region in 2003. Hamadoni was feted as an author of poetry and didactic prose in Tajik rather than a Qubraviyya sheikh, and remained a second-tier figure on the roll-call of the nation’s “glorious dead.” In contrast to the colossal expenditure on the Samanidrelated festivities and monuments in 1999 and the celebration of the Year of Aryan Civilization in 2006, the state did not allocate enough money even for the upkeep and renovation of Hamadoni’s shrine in Kulob, which had to be funded by the Iranian and Japanese governments. An alternative discourse espoused by the IRPT after 1997 was conditioned by its transition from a region-based combatant organization during the civil war to a legitimate political party operating within the parameters of a secular constitution with a nation-wide appeal. At the height of the war, the IRPT leader, Sayid Abdullo Nuri, stated: “We should declare with all clarity that we want an Islamic government in Tajikistan, not anything else. Anybody who doesn’t want to take this path is an enemy of the nation.”[12] Calls for an ideal Islamic state may have worked well to mobilize the traditional IRPT in Gharm, Mastchoh, and the Vakhsh Valley at the height of the war but had lost their appeal in peace time; they certainly didn’t resonate among the population at large. As Arne Seifert remarked, “In Tajikistan, political Islam became and becomes strong only when (and where) its leaders brought it in connection with regionalism and localism and succeeded in making it a medium in their struggle for power over other regional groups of elite.”[13] It follows that in order to overcome regionalism and cement its role as a truly national party the IRPT had to adapt and moderate its program, including its vision of a harmonious Tajik nation. Under Nuri’s stewardship, the IRPT moved away from the notion of an Islamic state as its primary goal toward the idea of an Islamic society operating within a secular state. Speaking to an advisory council of the party in 2002, Nuri opined that “acceptance of the secular order is one way of getting closer to religiosity,” in a sense that democratic, republican, and secular political systems often created conditions for the recrudescence of Islamic communities by guaranteeing their rights —he nodded approvingly at Russia’s experience under Putin as an example.[14] This was clear enough; what remained problematic was the exact definition of “Islamic values” and “Islamic rights” obtained in an “Islamic society.” Nuri’s thoughts on the subject were rather convoluted. His main work in the field, A Glance on Human Rights from the Viewpoint of Islam, contained a lot of platitudes about equality, tolerance, and impartial justice that were not specific to an Islamist project. Two standout features incorporated the unqualified submission to God by all, including the political leaders whose task was to implement God’s laws; and the use of the Shari’a

as the binding legal code.[15] Normative suasion, particularly through the means of education and constant dialogue with secular authorities, the ‘ulama, and ordinary Muslims, was the method to achieve the desired transformation, although the details remained sketchy.[16] As will be shown below, Nuri was prepared to be flexible with his own definitions when the situation required. The IRPT Charter approved in 1999 stated that the party operated solely on the territory of Tajikistan, and its members had to be Tajik citizens. It downgraded links with Islamist parties and movements abroad and repeatedly denounced terrorism. The IRPT essentially shared the ethnocentric vision of the nation propounded by the government, disagreeing with the latter only on the relative weight of Islam and Islamic values in the construction of “Tajikness.” Nuri, when asked what was more important for him—being a Tajik or being a Muslim—would often respond in a noncommittal way: “For us, these two aspects are inseparable. I am a Muslim, and I was born a Tajik. When I am a Muslim, I am a Tajik Muslim, that is, I take part in the progress and development of my country as a Tajik Muslim.”[17] A lengthy quote from his book on the present and future of Tajikistan is more helpful in illustrating the emerging IRPT views on nationalism at the turn of the century: Preservation and re-vitalization of the people’s customs and traditions are important issues in our time. Customs and traditions of the people are among the pillars of the nation. . . . For this reason, a government, which creates obstacles to the spread and florescence of folk customs, traditions and rituals, places itself against the people, and this trend might have grave repercussions for the government. . . . This is why it is imperative that the government, within the framework of the law, do not fight against the people’s customs and traditions; on the contrary, it should assist in the strengthening of the best folk and national traditions. . . . In this area, the issue of religion is very sensitive and important for the people of Tajikistan. . . . The religion of Islam is part of the culture and sacred values of the people of Tajikistan, and any kind of meddling with their sacred traditions can give rise to popular resentment.[18] The placement of Islamic mores within the set of national values rather than above them, and acknowledgment of the legitimacy of folk rites and practices highlighted a significant deviation from the reformist variant of political Islam that the IRPT leaders had elaborated as early as the 1970s under the influence of theorists such as Hasan al-Banna and Abul A’la Mawdudi, and which envisaged the purification of religion from non-Muslim practices and accretions, as well as an uncompromising stance toward the lazy, corrupt, and ignorant mullahs.[19] Abdullohi Rahnamo, a scholar sympathetic to Nuri, illustrated the practical dilemmas of demarcating “Islamic” and “national” values by a simple parable featuring a typical Tajik family, where father, Abdullo, names his newly born son Jamshed, lights up the wild rue incense near his cradle, lifts his son in his right hand saying Bismillah, shaves his head, has him circumcised, then this Jamshed prays in Tajik, after which he

celebrates Navruz, and so on. Rahnamo concluded: So, where is the boundary between Tajikness and Islamness, as Abdullo is an Islamic name, Jamshed is a very Iranian pre-Islamic name . . . wild rue is a sacred Zoroastrian plant, shaving the head and circumcision are Islamic rituals, Navruz is a pre-Islamic festival, etc. . . . If we start to remove some of these values using the criteria of “Islamic” or “non-Islamic,” practically nothing will be left from this Tajik’s Tajikness.[20] The IRPT’s version of Tajik ethnohistory shared most myths with the official narrative, particularly the tropes of the Golden Age under the Samanids, and endless suffering at the hands of Turco-Mongol oppressors. Two notable digressions included the central role of Islam in the nation’s consolidation under the Samanids and its subsequent survival, and an unequivocally negative view of the Soviet period with its “Bolshevik Genghiz-khans.” For Nuri, it was “our Muslim culture which served as a necessary connecting point” that time and again enabled the Tajiks to overcome multiple crises including the recent civil war and restore their natural state of unity.[21] Nuri’s deputy, Muhiddin Kabiri, took exception to the low profile the history of Muslim thought and Islamic figures had in school textbooks authorized by the Ministry of Education: We have been living [under Islam] for a thousand years, and it is unacceptable to cast away such a big chunk of our history. I feel sad when my son who is studying in Year 9 tells me that we are Zoroastrians. When I asked him why he says such things, he showed me a history textbook where it is written that the Tajiks’ religion is Zoroastrianism.[22] Kabiri then drew parallels between the government’s exclusive emphasis on the pre-Islamic roots of Tajik culture, and the failed nation-building experiment in Iran under the last Shah.[23]

THE LEGAL AND POLITICAL FRAMEWORK FOR STATE-ISLAMIST ENGAGEMENT, 1997–2005 Between 1997 and 2005, the nationalist projects articulated by the government and the IRPT were in a situation of balance and tacit recognition of the other’s interests. The official secular narrative was dominant; it showed benign neglect toward Islamic values in nation-building without explicitly challenging them. The IRPT had to travel a longer way to keep the balance. It recognized the secular character of the state, and embraced most of the official ethnosymbolism pertaining to Tajikness while insisting on greater salience of Islamic markers in it. Several political and institutional factors accounted for the balance outlined above:

both sides’ commitment to peace; cooptation of the IRPT personnel into the official government structures; low level of religiosity among the population; organizational weakness of the IRPT; and shared antipathy toward transnational Islamist projects. The greatest obstacle to the emergence of a distinct Islamist project capable of competing with the secular nationalist narrative consisted of a low level of religiosity of the population. A survey conducted shortly before the peace agreement showed that despite the fact that more than 90 percent of the country’s citizens self-identified as Muslims, their piety and observance remained questionable: only 13 percent of nominal Muslims went to the mosque on Friday; 1 percent prayed five a days; and 59 percent didn’t pray at all.[24] Ordinary Tajiks did not have a taste for Islamization, whether in the form of the incorporation of the Shari’a as a source of legislation or emulating the political system of Iran or Afghanistan. As a result, the IRPT had an approval rating of 2 percent nationally.[25] Nuri’s rebranding from a purist reformer of Islam to a defender of traditional customs and rituals won him support from some conservative ‘ulama and Sufi pirs who had theretofore been beyond the reach of the IRPT,[26] as well as their followers. This was at the time when the regime tried to establish greater control over official religious personnel and practices.[27] The conservative Muslim vote helped the party in parliamentary elections of 2000 and 2005, where according to the official (and in all likelihood understated) data it garnered 7.35 and 7.48 percent of the vote, respectively. The IRPT made particularly impressive gains in the north of the country (Sughd), where it entered legislative assemblies at the provincial and district levels.[28] The official and IRPT projects had common ground in regarding transnational radical Islam as an enemy of the Tajik nation. The government banned the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) and Hizb ut-Tahrir (HuT) as extremist organizations receiving external funding and striving to establish the Caliphate on the territory of Tajikistan.[29] The IRPT and HuT vied for the position of a non-violent spokesperson for the downtrodden Muslims in the political arena. The former supported the proscription of the latter in 2001 with some enthusiasm. As Nuri put it then, “I advise HuT members that their deeds won’t lead anywhere. Today the IRPT has all the answers to questions they raise. If they want to continue with their struggle on the basis of Islamic ideology, let them do this within the IRPT which operates freely on a constitutional foundation.”[30] Nuri was of the opinion that HuT in Tajikistan was in essence a spillover from Uzbekistan where the dynamics of state-religion relations was entirely different. He was echoed by his deputy Kabiri in regards to the IMU: “There is no contact between the IMU and us. The IMU have themselves said that they do not consider our approach Islamist.”[31] In November 2005, a regular seminar that brought together government officials, Islamists and academics to discuss the dynamics of state-religion relations took place

in Dushanbe. One item on the agenda was the possibility of producing a synthetic ideology of nation-building acceptable to all sides. It provoked a heated exchange between Kabiri and Saifullo Safarov, Deputy Director of the Centre for Strategic Studies (CSS) under the President of Tajikistan, which indicated mounting problems with the balance between the official and IRPT discourses. After Kabiri habitually criticized the government’s obsession with Aryanism, the Samanids, and exclusion of Islam from authorized history books, Safarov appeared to lose his composure. He reminded his interlocutor that it was the CSS’s job, on the President’s request, to generate what he termed a “mobilizational momentum” through the nationalist narrative using whatever frameworks, symbols, and myth-making techniques it saw fit.

NATIONAL PROJECTS IN 2006–2010 A major development in the official nationalist discourse after 2005 entailed the introduction of Islamic motifs, figures, and idioms into the picture of Tajikness, without any consultation with the IRPT and in a highly selective and controlled manner. The CSS led the way here, producing fascinating theoretical insights into the internal and external dimensions of Tajikistan’s functioning as a nation-state with a majority Muslim population. The presidential think tank singled out two aspects of Islam that could be harnessed for the purposes of national unity: its innate humanitarian nature (particularly its aversion to war and conflict), and patriotism. As one analyst put it, “according to the canons of Islam, the very notion of ‘patriotism’ (hubb al-watan) forms part of the faith (al-iman), and this means that every Muslim must strive towards saving his Motherland from bloodshed and destruction.”[32] On the basis of this rather questionable exercise in exegesis, he came up with policy advice: “Taking into account the residual high authority of the clerics . . . representatives of the patriotic-minded clergy should be used more actively in interpreting the injunctions of the Qur’an, the Sunnah, and other sources of Islamic law towards ‘disarming’ the militant doctrines of Islamic extremists . . . and conducting prophylactic work among Muslims.”[33] Despite some promising early discussion, the balance between Tajikness and Muslimness in the official history writing barely moved. In juxtaposition to the IRPT’s attempts to elevate the role of Islam in national progress, the government suggested reverse causality: it was Islam that benefited from the civilizing influence of the Tajiks and not the other way around. Rahmon made this abundantly clear on many occasions, including in a speech commemorating the seventeenth anniversary of independence: It should be particularly emphasized that the Tajiks over many centuries constantly contributed to the advancement of Islamic culture and civilization. A full understanding of the history of Islam is utterly impossible without studying and properly appreciating the special role of the Tajiks. In this sense, it would be a

mistake to consider Islam in separation from our national culture, and our national culture—in separation from Islam.[34] The circumscribed and instrumentalist interpretation of Islam in the dominant discourse of nationalism can also be illustrated by the practice of state-sanctioned celebrations. Religious holidays such as Idi fitr and Idi qurbon received greater prominence in the mid-2000s, but in the hierarchy of official celebrations they still ranked below pre-Islamic festivities (Navruz, Mehrgan), events commemorating state sovereignty and national unity (Independence Day, National Flag Day, Unity Day, Constitution Day), and even Soviet-era carryovers (Victory Day, Mothers’ Day— formerly known as International Women’s Solidarity Day). A 2007 book under the title The Inspirer of National Renaissance composed by Rahmon’s advisers contained a detailed account of the President’s speech acts over the preceding two years on the significance of different celebrations; below is a short précis of some of them:[35] Navruz is “an excellent opportunity to understand better the life, philosophy and the way of thinking of our ancestors who in those distant millennia laid the foundations for our nation’s existence”; Unity Day is “the day of the triumph of reason, wisdom, peace-loving nature and patriotism of the ancient Tajik nation”; Victory Day “was one of the greatest holidays of the Soviet period, and today it has retained its past significance as a celebration of the triumph of reason over ignorance, and freedom over slavery. . . . For the present generation of Tajikistan’s citizens Victory Day . . . is a good opportunity to realize that great tasks can be accomplished only on the basis of solidarity and firm unity”; Idi fitr and Idi qurbon “belong to the traditions that have been revitalised during independence. We must use these sacred customs with their inherent moral-spiritual aspects to enhance friendship and the sense of comradeship. . . . The blessed Idi fitr and happy Idi Qurbon . . . have become a notable factor of strengthening the atmosphere of love and sincerity in society. Indeed, Islamic culture and enlightenment . . . can make a contribution to the even greater strengthening of true consciousness and national unity. . . . Our society today needs such instruments, methods and means to guide the people, and particularly youngsters, in the direction of noble deeds, good manners, mutual respect, veneration of the Motherland as a sacrosanct object, studying sciences, culture, history and national customs, as well as other sound pursuits. This is why we must effectively use religious traditions that comprise an important source of our sacred values and prepare our children for carrying out important objectives on the way to building a genuinely democratic law-based state.” It is evident from the text above that religious holidays in their official interpretation completely lost their theological meaning. Instead of celebrating a communion between God and the faithful, they were redacted to vehicles of patriotic

identity production just like all other state-authorized celebrations. A symbolic high point in the “Islamization” of the official nationalist discourse was reached in 2008 when Rahmon proclaimed Abu Hanifa (699–765 C.E.), the founder of one of the four major Sunni schools of Islamic jurisprudence (madhabs), to be the “noblest representative of the Tajik nation,” and declared 2009 the year of the Great Imam to celebrate his life and legacy. In contrast to the subdued remembrance of Hamadoni circa 1999, Abu Hanifa received full honors in the form of publications, films, scholarly conferences, and even the “Great Imam” displays in local libraries. Once again, the government proved to be quite selective in choosing aspects of Abu Hanifa’s inheritance to propagate. The acknowledgment of his contribution to Islamic theology and jurisprudence ran skin deep and had an imprint of political expediency.[36] In Rahmon’s assessment, Abu Hanifa was famous for his work toward “the elimination of all kinds of extremism and excess in matters pertaining to faith and jurisprudence of Islam, and the protection of cultural authenticity of many different peoples of the Muslim world, especially traditional popular customs and mores.”[37] The President also opined that Abu Hanifa during a sensitive historical period . . . managed to set up an allembracing Islamic movement which, under the name of ‘Hanafi madhab’, united the majority of Muslims and supported and disseminated ideas of equality, brotherhood, tolerance, social justice, and elimination of racial discrimination . . . Abu Hanifa’s fundamental views in areas such as individual freedoms, various social issues, and religious practice can be beneficial for the co-existence of different peoples and cultural ties between world civilisations.[38] The government exploited the image of Abu Hanifa as a Tajik, humanitarian, political conformist, and moderate traditionalist in 2009 when it passed the law “On freedom of religion and religious organizations.” The law opened with a preamble noting “the special role of the Hanafi school of Islamic religion in the development of national culture and spiritual life of the people of Tajikistan,” and then proceeded with a litany of restrictions on Muslim groups, including onerous registration procedures, bans on private religious instruction, children’s attendance at mosques, and religious organizations’ involvement in politics, censorship of imported religious literature, and so forth.[39] The reference to Hanafism’s “special role” also created unease among secular Tajiks, and the Shi’a Ismaili Pamiris. The government’s experimentation with Islamic symbols and rituals enhanced the latter’s already prominent sense of a distinct ethno-confessional belonging separate from Tajikness.[40] The final observation to be made in connection with the induction of Abu Hanifa into the national hall of fame is a binary semantic structure that connected him with Rahmon. The officials and state-controlled media came to refer to the former as “the religious leader of the Tajik nation” (peshvoi mazhabii millati Tojik) while the latter added the sobriquet “the leader of the Tajik nation” (peshvoi millati Tojik) to his

already impressive list of formal and informal titles.[41] Rahmon’s cult of personality reached new heights; he was now the chief living national champion, propped up by lesser historical figures from Cyrus the Great to Ismoil Somoni to Abu Hanifa. By 2010 Nuri’s crucial role in attaining the 1997 peace deal had been sidelined to pave the way for a new script: “In truth, the Honourable Emomali Rahmon saved the nation.”[42] Sayyid Abdullo Nuri fell seriously ill in 2004 and died in August 2006; his deputy Muhiddin Kabiri took over as the IRPT Chairman. Kabiri belonged to a new generation of Islamists: young, PR-savvy, well educated, and regarded as a respectable politician in the West, Russia, and the Muslim world, he was consciously groomed by Nuri for succession to reform the party and lead it to political success. By the end of 2006, he revealed his general recipe for the nation’s unity: “First, national values; second, Islamic values; third, universal human values.[43] If we manage through the process of compromise to offer a new model of society- and state-building on the foundation of these three categories of values, we could say that all the hard toil of our nation has not been wasted.”[44] The IRPT continued to be vague on what it regarded as an “Islamic society.” Its program adopted in the lead-up to the 2010 elections reiterated that the party indeed wanted “pure Islamic values” to be at the heart of state-society relations, and elaborated that Islamic society does not have the meaning that only a religious dignitary can be the leader of state and society and that nobody can remove this entitlement from him. What is important is that there are no laws or measures adopted and implemented by the state against Islamic values. Islamic society has the meaning of a just, free and progressive society where a person has dignity and benevolence. It is a society where the government serves a person, and not where a person serves the government.[45] The category of “national values” also eluded precise definition in the IRPT discourse. The party seemed to be content following the government’s lead in producing a nationalizing narrative, criticizing its specific components from time to time. It supported the Roghun project, for instance. However, the IRPT registered concerns about corruption jeopardizing the construction’s progress, and reminded the public that the government’s track record in floating big projects such as the Sangtuda hydropower scheme was less than stellar. “In order to avoid the repetition of the Sangtuda shares’ fiasco,” declared Kabiri, “the IRPT has decided that the Roghun shares will be acquired not by the party members individually, but by the party itself which will become a shareholder in the Roghun power station.”[46] The IRPT welcomed the proclamation of the Year of the Great Imam because it gave the party an excellent opportunity to publish its own views on Hanafi Islam concerning observance, social mores, political legitimacy, and a myriad of other

issues that were considerably more informed and sophisticated than the government’s effort.[47] It took exception to the proclamation of Hanafism as Tajikistan’s national madhab. The historical section of a huge volume on the Great Imam’s fiqh endorsed by the IRPT argued that Central Asia, as the eastern part of the historical caliphate, was characterized by religious pluralism; this is what made it great, and turned cities like Samarkand and Bukhara into the centers of Islamic civilization; while it is true that the majority of the Tajik people followed Hanafism, “the greatest representatives of [Islamic] science and religious leaders of the Persian (Tajik) people” including Imam Ghazali belonged to other madhabs or were above them; one of the primary reasons for the decay of the Emirate of Bukhara and other Central Asian khanates and their eventual subjugation by the Russian and Soviet colonizers was the prevalence of a single madhab that stifled reform and renovation, and bred complacency among the Muslims.[48] The sheer crudeness of Abu Hanifa’s transformation into a locomotive of Tajik nationhood copped the flak from the Islamists. “At a conference dedicated to the Great Imam where the President took part an ‘academic’ stepped up and said that Prophet Mohammad built the Arab nation, whereas the Great Imam built the Tajik nation,” fulminated one critic in an article entitled “The Empty Cart of Tajikness,” and continued: What is the meaning of our madhab to us? Is it just to mount protection against radicals, terrorism and the Salafis? If this is the case, we can continue holding the Year of the Great Imam for ten more years in Tajikistan, and yet we won’t have the slightest idea about his madhab. This is because our principal objective is not the cognizance of the Imam and his madhab but the misuse of his name so that once again we can show off to the rest of the world.[49]

THE POLITICAL AND SOCIAL BACKGROUND FOR ISLAMIZATION OF THE NATIONAL IDEA To one uncharitable mind, the government’s effort to Islamize its dominant discourse of nationalism appeared an accident, a fruit of abstract deliberations of egghead theorists sitting in ivory towers like the CSS: “Our ideologues concoct an idea and throw it into a society to see what happens. Now we shall see whether they’ll regret the promulgation of the Year of the Great Imam as it may work in favor of the IRPT and knowledgeable clerics. Perhaps, this is because they don’t really know what they are doing.”[50] This light weight explanatory approach should not be dismissed out of hand. The government was confident and self-assured during 2006–2010 as never before. Rahmon won the presidential poll in 2006 under new electoral rules, which

meant that he could stay in power until 2020, subject to his winning a second term in 2013. The unruly militias associated with the UTO and Rahmon’s own war-time organization, the People’s Front of Tajikistan (PFT), which for many years challenged the state’s monopoly on the legitimate use of violence, had finally been tamed. The economy had finally turned the corner and grew rapidly before the global financial crisis hit it. The international environment looked benign, especially as the US-led coalition seemed to be doing a good job stabilizing neighboring Afghanistan. The conditions looked ripe for a social experiment. There were, however, sound pragmatic reasons for the government’s awkward turn to Islam in its nationalist narrative. Compared to the mid-1990s, the level of religiosity in Tajik society increased dramatically: a 2010 survey showed that regular mosque attendance on Fridays had jumped to 52 percent, and 63 percent of all Muslims prayed five times a day.[51] Dissatisfaction with the state’s secularist ideology played practically no role in these dynamics.[52] A 2010 survey showed that 64 percent of Tajiks were committed to the preservation of a secular state, and only 7 percent favored an Islamic state.[53] Nonetheless, the regime became sufficiently concerned about the growing moral authority and grassroots influence of Islam—or, to be more precise, the traditional ‘ulama and mullahs—to add a discursive dimension to its carrot-and-stick policy in the religious sphere. Rahnamo made a convincing argument about the stratification of religious personnel in Tajikistan into three distinct groups by the mid-2000s: “official clerics” coopted by the state and controlled by it via the Department of Religious Affairs and the Council of the ‘Ulama; “political-reformist clerics” including Turajonzoda, Nuri, and many other past and present IRPT members; and “traditional clerics.”[54] The government promoted the first group through the power of appointment and pork barrelling, and made life difficult for the second group by introducing periodic mandatory examinations for all imams in 2007 that often resulted in the sacking of an undesirable person.[55] The fact is, neither group had much traction on the ground. According to a 2012 survey, when faced with a religious problem, 42 percent of Tajik Muslims would turn to a traditional mullah, compared to 8 percent of those who would seek advice from a Council of the ‘Ulama’s appointee, and 1 percent from a political party (presumably, the IRPT).[56] The quietist majority of local religious leaders refused to get involved in the politics either on the regime’s side or on the side of the IRPT. The brouhaha about the Great Imam and the Hanafi madhab may have been unfolded to draw them closer to the regime, or at least prevent them from slipping into the IRPT orbit. If the latter was the case, Rahmon need not have worried. After making initial inroads, the Islamist party could not overcome the traditionalists’ suspicions about its hidden reformist agenda. Commentators differ on the dynamics of the IRPT’s political appeal among the Tajik Muslims during 2006–2010. Epkenhans claimed that it had declined,[57] while according to Zainiddinov, it “regained much of its lost trust and popularity among people.”[58] Opinion polls showed that between 2004 and 2010, a

steady 6 percent of the population believed that the party represented their views.[59] Its membership grew from twenty thousand to thirty-three thousand; however, in one expert’s opinion, this growth occurred “not through the active usage of Islamist slogans but by skilful deployment of social rhetoric,” that is, the IRPT claimed a niche traditionally occupied by the Communist and Social-Democratic parties.[60] Now a primary national opposition force, its relationship with the regime was bound to become more problematic.

THE WANING OF NATIONALIST PROJECTS AFTER 2010 Islamic tropes were the first victim of the perceived failure of the hegemonic nationalist narrative. In 2011, references to the special role of the Hanafi madhab began to disappear from official statements. The latest hagiography of the President containing the usual mixture of Rahmon’s doings and sayings assembled to illustrate his up-to-date priorities did not mention Abu Hanifa once.[61] While other historical myths continued to be reproduced and socialized, the writing was on the wall for the entire corpus of authorized ethno-symbolism. In March 2012, Suhrob Sharipov, the former CSS director recently promoted to be an MP representing Rahmon’s People’s Democratic Party, openly admitted that although in 2006 his think tank was put in charge of “developing a national idea for the Tajiks . . . it has not been successful in this enterprise thus far.”[62] Heavy fighting in the Badakhshan region in July 2012 which once again pitched Ismaili Pamiri warlords against government forces accelerated the demise of the old model. In November 2012 the CSS received a directive from the President to engender a new national idea, which ought to be non-ideological, contain no particular religious bent, be devoid of ethnic exceptionalism, unite representatives of all nationalities residing in the country, and, finally, be straightforward and uncomplicated, so that everybody could understand it.[63] It remains to be seen how this challenging wish list is going to be implemented. The speaker of parliament’s lower house, for one, was brimming with optimism a few months later: “The ideas of the People’s Democratic Party about constructive and enlightening values of the nation are in a state of development.”[64] The IRPT began to abandon the discourse of ethnonationalism based on historical myths already in 2010. Its election manifesto contained a section headlined “Looking into the future instead of being stricken by the history” (Oyandanigari ba joi ta’rikhzadagi), which promulgated that “we should not turn to our glorious history for the sake of escaping from our shameful present.”[65] In 2012 Kabiri indicated that the party’s new program of nation-building would most likely be a blend of the best democratic practices from Turkey, and British-style secularism, that is, “a secular society in which religious and secular values coexist quite harmoniously.”[66] He viewed the IRPT as the only political force capable of maintaining the right balance between the secular and religious camps and containing radicals within both of them. [67]

The debate between the government and Islamists on core national values was sidelined by political acrimony in the lead-up to the presidential elections scheduled for November 2013. The authorities launched a well-coordinated campaign to weaken the IRPT using legal and administrative measures of dubious constitutionality. An effective ban on public sector employment, harassment of Islamist-friendly businesses, and arrests of activists on trumped-up charges led to the hemorrhaging of members from the IRPT in 2012 and 2013. The head of the IRPT organization in the Isfara district estimated that over the twelve months since February 2012, government pressure on his party had increased by 60 percent.[68] This was complemented by a ferocious media campaign in the state-controlled media.[69] Whether a positive dialogue on the essence of Tajik nationhood could resume after the elections remained to be seen at the time of the writing. Kabiri, for one, was hopeful, suggesting the CSS as a possible venue.[70]

CONCLUSION Tajikistan is unique among the Central Asian republics in having a legally functioning Islamist party. Yet, in Khalid’s poignant words, “the ‘secular-religious compromise’ in Tajikistan does not keep the state from acting like any other post-Soviet state.”[71] The authoritarian government of Emomali Rahmon has viewed political Islam with suspicion, barely tolerating the IRPT as an essential element of the post-war settlement. It has not engaged the IRPT in a serious and constructive conversation about the best ways to consolidate the Tajik nation. The state has imposed its agenda of nation building upon society with arrogance and self-assuredness. The Islamists have played a secondary yet constructive role in this endeavor, by adding legitimacy to the existing political system and providing a counter-narrative of nationalism that moderated the excesses of the official story. In the process, the IRPT’s own discourse has evolved from that of a fundamentalist Islamic state to an Islamic society operating under a secular political system and guided by national values to a liberal polity with Islamic overtones, Turkish-style. As of 2013, national unity in Tajikistan either as a discursive construct or as a practical reality of daily life remains elusive. The title of a recent article by a prominent Tajik political scientist oozed with a sense of desperation—“It Is Impossible to Consolidate the Tajik Nation.”[72] There is a broad agreement that for a viable Tajik identity to overcome sub-ethnic cleavages it must rest on a mix of national, Islamic, and modern political values, but the exact formula has not been worked out yet. As far as Muhiddin Kabiri is concerned, time is running out: “Our generation still can understand one another; we all share the Soviet past and have much in common. The onus is on us to find consensus on the main parameters of Tajikistan’s future and draw our views together to the maximum.”[73]

NOTES

1. Craig Calhoun, Nationalism (Buckingham: Open University Press, 1997), 99. 2. Umut Özkirimli, Contemporary Debates on Nationalism: A Critical Engagement (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 33. 3. Sergei Abashin, “Nation-Construction in Post-Soviet Central Asia,” in Soviet and Post-Soviet Identities, ed. Mark Bassin and Catriona Kelly (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 159. 4. Anthony D. Smith, Nationalism (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2010), 154. 5. Charles Lindholm, The Islamic Middle East: An Historical Anthropology (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1996), 134. 6. John Obert Voll, Islam: Continuity and Change in the Modern World (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1994), 346. 7. L.A. Chvyr’, “O strukture tadzhikskogo etnosa (nauchnaia i narodnaia tochka zreniia),” in Rasy i narody. Sovremennye etnicheskie i rasovye problemy, ed. G. P. Vasilieva (Moscow: Nauka, 2001), 12. 8. “Act on Mutual Forgiveness,” in Politics of Compromise: The Tajikistan Peace Process, ed. Kamoludin Abdullaev and Catherine Barnes (London: Conciliation Resources, 2001), 79 (emphasis added). 9. Graham Day and Andrew Thompson, Theorizing Nationalism (Basingstoke: PalgraveMacmillan, 2004), 79. 10. Sobir Hojaev, Ta’rikhi khalqi Tojik. Kitobi darsi baroi sinfi 7-um (Dushanbe: Sarparast, 2002), 19-80. 11. Hojaev, Ta’rikhi khalqi Tojik, 29. 12. S.A. Nuri, Dar on suyi siyosat (N.p.: Intishoroti kumitai farhangii nahzati islomii Tojikiston, 2006), 18. 13. Arne C. Seifert, The Islamic Factor and the OSCE Stabilization Strategy in Its Euro-Asian Region (Hamburg: CORE, 2001), 12. 14. Mujaddidi asr (Dushanbe: Devashtich, 2007), 123. 15. Sayid Abdulloh Nuri, Nazare ba huquqi bashar (Dushanbe: N.p., 2001), 13–14. 16. Epkenhans produced a fascinating analysis of the concept of “Islamic values” in the writings of Hoji Akbar Turajonzoda, a former head of the Islamic establishment in Tajikistan (qozikalon) who used to be close to the IRPT and whose ideas overlapped with those of Nuri (Tim Epkenhans, “Defining Normative Islam: Some Remarks on Contemporary Islamic thought in Tajikistan—Hoji Akbar Turajonzoda's Sharia and Society,” Central Asian Survey, 30 (2011), 81–96). After an exhaustive textual analysis, his verdict was that “key concepts of Islamic values and national culture are unclear [in Turajonzoda’s thinking] whilst remaining central to [his] work” (Epkenhans, “Defining Normative Islam,” 87). 17. Nuri, Nazare ba huquqi basher, 140. 18. Sayid Abdulloh Nuri, Imruz va fardoi Tojikiston (Dushanbe: Surush, 2000), 25. [Emphasis added]. 19. Vitalii V. Naumkin, Radical Islam in Central Asia: Between Pen and Rifle (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2005), 208–15; Martha Brill Olcott, The Roots of Radical Islam in Central Asia (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for

International Peace, 2007), 11–31. 20. Abdullohi Rahnamo, Ulamoi islomi dar Tojikiston (Dushanbe: Irfon, 2009), 91–92. 21. Mujaddidi asr, 26–32. 22. “Diskussiia vtorogo zasedaniia seminara,” in Dinamika razvitiia natsionalnykh i religioznykh proektov v Tsentralnoi Azii, ed. P. D. Shozimov and R. J. Haidarov (Dushanbe: Irfon, 2006), 111. 23. “Diskussiia vtorogo zasedaniia seminara,” 130. 24. Steven Wagner, Obshchestvennoe mnenie v Tadzhikistane, 1996 g. (Washington, D.C.: IFES, 1997), 107–108. 25. Wagner, Obshchestvennoe mnenie, 83. 26. Saodat Olimova and Anthony Bowyer, Political Parties in Tajikistan. Facts, Figures, and Analysis (Washington, D.C.: IFES, 2002), 30. 27. In 1998, the government replaced the quasi-autonomous Muftiyat, which theretofore exercised oversight over imams and mullahs, with the Council of the ‘Ulama that performed strictly advisory functions. In 1999, the presidential decree “On traditional national festivities, rites and rituals in the Republic of Tajikistan” sought to curb the spending on weddings, funerals, and other community events. 28. Zumrat Salmorbekova and Galina Yemelianova, “Islam and Islamism in the Ferghana Valley,” in Radical Islam in the Former Soviet Union, ed. Galina Yemelianova (London and New York: Routledge, 2010), 238. 29. For a concise account of IMU and HuT activities in Tajikistan, see Fredholm, Islamic Extremism as a Political Force, 19–39; Emmanuel Karagiannis, Political Islam in Central Asia. The Challenge of Hizb ut-Tahrir (London and New York: Routledge, 2010), ch. 4. 30. Mujaddidi asr, 191–92. 31. Cited in International Crisis Group, “Tajikistan: An Uncertain Peace,” ICG Asia Report No. 30, December 24, 2001, p. 6. 32. S.A. Rajabov, “Islam i tsivilizatsionnyi podkhod k resheniiu konfliktov na primere Respubliki Tadzhikistan,” Tojikiston va jahoni imruz, 2 (2007), 49. 33. Rajabov, “Islam i tsivilizatsionnyi podkhod,” 49. 34. Emomali Rahmon, “Sukhanroni ba munosibati 17-umin solgardi istiqloliyati davlati,” last modified September 8, 2008 www.president.tj/node/269. 35. Vohid Gaffori and Zafar Saidov, Vdokhnovitel’ natsionalnogo renessansa (Dushanbe: NIAT Khovar, 2007), 22–34. 36. The Ministry of Culture published a small compendium to assist officials, journalists, and teachers in taking cognizance of Abu Hanifa. It contained a few entertaining anecdotes from his life, a range of quotes from other famous people praising the Great Imam, and a list of books and journal articles on the subject, most of which happened to come from media outlets friendly to the government. See Abdullojon Yunusov and Muzaffara Umarova, Imomi A’zam: fehristi adabiyot (Dushanbe: Ejod, 2009). 37. Emomali Rahmon, ”Imomi ‘Azam va guftugui tamaddunho,” in Vahdat, davlat, prezident, ed. Firdavs Vosiev, Vol. IX (Donish: Dushanbe, 2009), 52.

38. Emomali Rahmon, “Sukhanroni dar simpoziumi bainalmilali dar mavzui ‘Imomi A’zam va jahoni muosir,’” last updated October 5, 2009, www.president.tj/node/2521. 39. For a concise analysis, see United States Commission on International Religious Freedom, “USCIRF Annual Report 2012—Countries of Particular Concern: Tajikistan,” last updated March 20, 2012 www.unhcr.org/refworld/docid/4f71a67137.html. 40. M.M. Khudoyerov, “Islamilizm v nezavisimom Tadzhikistane: vozrozhdenie i reforma,” Etnograficheskoe obozrenie, 2 (2011), 16–27. 41. Cf. Nurali Nurzod, “Andeshai milli va istiqloli farhangi,” Jumhuriyat, September 9, 2010. 42. Safar Safarov, “Raisi hizbi mo me’mori vahdat va peshvoi millat ast,” Minbari khalq, February 7, 2013. 43. “Universal human values” (arzishhoi umumibashari) has been a common code for liberal values in Tajikistan since Gorbachev. 44. Quoted in Rahnamo, Hizbi dini va davlati dunyavi , 76–77. 45. Barnomai Hizbi Nahzati Islomii Tojikiston, accessed December 12, 2012, www.nahzat.tj/home/barnomai-hnit. 46. Quoted in Viktoria Panfilova, “Rogun liboi tsenoi,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, December 8, 2009. 47. Muhammadsharif Himmatzoda, one of the most knowledgeable faqihs in Tajikistan and the IRPT leader in 1990, published no less than thirteen articles on the subject in Najot during 2008–2009. 48. Abdusharifi Boqizoda, Fiqhi Islomi bar asosi mazhabi Hanafi. Qismati ibodot va ahvoli shakhsi (Lahore: Lahoria Book Banding In Company, 2011), 50–52. 49. Dilovari Mustafo, “Arobai kholii ‘Tojik budan,’” Faraj, March 12, 2009. 50. Mustafo, “Arobai kholii ‘Tojik budan.’” 51. International Federation for Electoral Systems, Public Opinion in Tajikistan 2010: Findings from an IFES Survey (Washington, D.C.: 2010), 41. 52. See Yaacov Ro'i and Alon Wainer, “Muslim Identity and Islamic Practice in PostSoviet Central Asia,” Central Asian Survey, 28 (2009), 303–22; and especially Manja Stephan, “Education, Youth and Islam: The Growing Popularity of Private Religious Lessons in Dushanbe, Tajikistan,” Central Asian Survey, 29 (2010), 469–83, for a comprehensive empirical and theoretical discussion. 53. International Federation for Electoral Systems, Public Opinion in Tajikistan 2010, 42. 54. Rahnamo, Ulamoi Islomi, 227. 55. See Hakim Zainiddinov, “The Changing Relationship of the Secularized State to Religion in Tajikistan,” Journal of Church and State (2012), 10–11, accessed January 3, 2013, doi:10.1093/jcs/css051. 56. Michael Taarnby, Islamist Radicalisation in Tajikistan: An Assessment of Current Trends (Dushanbe: OSCE, 2012), 39. 57. Epkenhans, Defining Normative Islam, 92. 58. Zainiddinov, “The Changing Relationship,” 13. 59. International Federation for Electoral Systems, Public Opinion in Tajikistan 2004

(Washington, D.C.: IFES, 2004), 30; International Federation for Electoral Systems, Public Opinion in Tajikistan 2010, 33. 60. Leonid Proskurin, “Islamskaia Respublika . . . Tadzhikistan. Chem grozit tsentralno-aziatskomu gosudarstvu 2010 god?” TsentrAzia, last amended January 5, 2010, accessed December 28 2012, www.centrasia.ru/news2.php?st=1262640840. 61. Vohid Ghaffori and Zafari Sherali Sayidzoda, Emomali Rahmon dar oinai zamon (Dushanbe: Kontrast 2013). 62. Quoted in Shoh Abdi, “Judo kardani ziyoiyon ziddi manofe’i millist,” Najot, May 2, 2012. 63. A. Rahnamo, “Tafakkuri davlati: zamina va tashakkuli on,” Tojikiston va jahoni imruz, 1 (2013), 24–25. 64. Safarov, “Raisi hizbi mo.” 65. Barnomai Hizbi Nahzati Islomii Tojikiston. 66. Muhiddin Kabiri, “Transcript of Mr. Kabiri’s speech and discussion at the Central Asia Program, George Washington University, October 16, 2012,” Voices From Central Asia, 8 (2012), 8–9. 67. M. Kabiri, “Yakravi ba fojia va in’itofpaziri ba najot mibarad,” Najot, June 20, 2013. 68. Khairullo Mirsaidov, “PIVT: predvybornaia gonka nachalas’s Isfary?” Asia-Plus, February 28, 2013. 69. One typical article warned voters that Kabiri’s references to the Turkish path were a fake, and in fact his dream was about turning Tajikistan into another Afghanistan or Pakistan. See Valijoni Kamol, “Ittihodi ideyahoi lenini bo arkoni islomi,” Jumhuriyat, August 8, 2013. 70. M. Kabiri, “Vazhno, chtoby vlast’ posle vyborov imela polnuiy legitimnost’,” AsiaPlus, June 13, 2013. 71. Adeeb Khalid, Islam after Communism: Religion and Politics in Central Asia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007), 187. 72. O. Zahidov, “Tadzhikskuiu natsiiu konsolidirovat’ nevozmozhno,” Asia-Plus, June 6, 2013. 73. Kabiri, “Yakravi ba fojia.”

Chapter 6

Eye on the International Image Mariya Y. Omelicheva Turkmenistan’s Nation Branding Several years after the sudden death of Saparmurad Niyazov in December 2006, Turkmenistan’s reputation as one of the most repressive countries in the world remains largely unchanged. Its deeply entrenched authoritarian regime keeps a tight lid on independent scrutiny of the republic’s politics and social relations. The press and Internet are tightly controlled, and access to social media is banned. Human rights organizations have repeatedly condemned the oppressive rule of the new government of President Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov who brooks no dissent. However, even this authoritarian regime has been susceptible to international opinion. Recognizing the importance of reputation for attaining foreign investments and maintaining the desired bargaining position in global politics, the Berdymukhamedov cabinet has tried to repair Turkmenistan’s international image and break with the cycle of international isolation. The process of image making has become a means of public diplomacy for the Turkmen elite who seek to raise Turkmenistan’s prestige, primarily in international business circles and within the global political community. As discussed in the introduction to this volume, national identity is both multi-level and multi-dimensional. Domestically, it is created and maintained through sustained, imaginative, and unavoidably contentious efforts of political elites, individuals, and various societal groups who draw on the available material and symbolic resources to effectuate the nation. Internationally, national identity is formed through interactions with other states, international organizations, and non-state entities and, therefore, contingent on their recognition. The internal dimension of national identity gives it a subjective quality, while the external one—a relational or “intersubjective” quality.[1] Since state identity has both subjective and relational properties, a process of identity formation features domestic- and international-level dynamics and interplay between them.[2] This chapter shifts its focus from the efforts of the Turkmen leadership at creating a cohesive national identity and image for domestic consumption and social regulation to the construction of the international image of Turkmenistan. The creation of unique international images, also known as “national brand identities,” is a new venture for the Central Asian states. Kazakhstan has spearheaded these efforts by investing into an intelligent public relations in the Western media. Since recently, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Turkmenistan began implementing measures for capturing the attention of foreign corporations, governments, and tourists. Through the authorized publications, speeches, presentations at international exhibitions, and highly publicized cultural events, the governments of these states construct attractive narratives that trumpet their countries’ potential, embellish their accomplishments, and disguise negative events.

The business of international image making has become a new form of communications marketing to the needs of various international audiences— governments, businesses, and tourists.[3] To examine international image building by Turkmenistan, this chapter utilizes the concept of nation branding. It describes a process of constructing a favorable state image and disseminating it to the rest of the world with the goal of forming or changing external perceptions of the nation.[4] A nation brand represents a snapshot of the state’s desirable image formulated in a series of favorable associations and descriptions about its culture, political institutions, the nature of its economy, and foreign policies. It is usually communicated through the means of public diplomacy and mass and social media. The chapter begins with a brief discussion of the importance of a state’s international image in its international politics followed by the introduction of the concept of nation branding and ways of examining Turkmenistan’s nation brand. The subsequent sections offer an analysis of several elements that make up Turkmenistan’s international image, namely, Turkmenistan’s foreign policy, economic potential, tourist attractions, and ongoing political reforms and modernization.

THE ROLE OF NATION BRANDING IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS States’ images and reputation have been salient features of nations throughout history but came to play an increasingly important role in international relations since the end of the Cold War. The processes of accelerated economic globalization and rapid dissemination of information accompanied by the spread of neo-liberal values and rise of commercialism encouraged the emergence of new norms and expectations about the proper forms of governance and economic development, among other things. Using the metaphor of world politics as marketing, whatever states try to attract— investments, foreign aid, or tourists—and whatever they try to export—products, services, or culture—can be done with a bigger premium if the state’s image is positive and strong.[5] The upswing of scholarly interest in the questions of state image and reputation coincided with a constructivist or sociological turn in international relations theory that brought the topic of state identity into the limelight of academic attention.[6] Constructivists of all genres view states as social actors entangled in the webs of relations and intersubjective meanings that render their “reality” meaningful. These intersubjective understandings include norms, identities, expectations, and other forms of shared knowledge and information.[7] This social embeddedness limits states’ choices in the roles they can adopt for themselves and their national identities and images. Today, for example, an international environment demands conformity to at least minimal democratic procedures, and even authoritarian states claim adherence to a nominal democratic rule.[8]

States’ images serve an important diagnostic function. They provide succinct, if limited, information that shapes other actors’ expectations about their likely actions. In the crowded informational space, where people and organizations are besieged with new data, there is limited time and ability to seek and acquire in-depth and informative views about other states. State images are used in the navigation of the complex world of modern international relations. They often become internalized prior to the most rudimentary factual knowledge about other places.[9] States’ images and reputation thus become the repositories of factual and evaluative knowledge—positive or negative, true or untrue—affecting other actors’ perceptions of other places as well as attitudes and behavior toward them, their products, and people. State image is also an important national power resource helping a state to achieve its policy goals in international relations. States that are successful at projecting a favorable international image through the pull of popular culture, attractive political institutions, or levels of economic and technological development will be more adept at exercising their national power as well. With the positive image comes legitimacy and positive reputation. If a state’s popular culture and political values are attractive, others are more willing to follow this state. If a state makes its influence legitimate in the eyes of others, it encounters less resistance to its foreign policy decisions and actions.[10] In this way, state identity manifests a kind of post-modern “soft” power, which most important asset is its ability to reach desirable outcomes without force, threats, or payment. This power has a discursive rather than coercive nature, and, as Joseph Nye who coined the term “soft power” once confided, “in an information age, it is often the side which has the better story that wins.”[11] For many “unmapped” states that are unheard of or unfamiliar to the majority of people beyond their borders, state image serves yet another important function of “putting the unknown nation on the map.”[12] In other words, it helps to promote obscure, distant, and, therefore, unattractive places into reliable, welcoming, and attractive destinations. This function is particularly relevant for the newly independent states. Even today, more than twenty years after the breakup of the Soviet Union, very few people, apart from real specialists, can tell the five Central Asian “stans” apart. The little that is known about these former Soviet republics is dominated by caricature, such as the satirical and grotesque representation of Kazakhs in Sasha Baron Cohen’s movie Borat—or bad news depicting the region as mired in corruption, despotism, and stalled political and economic reform. The Central Asian governments are now well aware of the importance of positive perceptions of their countries that get translated into various economic ratings, rankings, and other influential tags attached to these states by international organizations. The Central Asian governments, therefore, have tried to enhance, reverse, adapt, or otherwise manage their countries’ international image and reputation.[13] Image making has become recognized as an essential part of these states’ strategic capital, whereas a positive image and reputation are now viewed as the important elements of these states’ strategic equity.[14]

To examine international image building by Turkmenistan, this chapter utilizes the concept of nation branding. Introduced into the toolkit of states’ public relations (PR) campaigns in the mid-1990s, it describes a process of constructing and promoting a favorable image about a state and its people to the rest of the world with the goal of forming or changing external perceptions of the nation.[15] A nation brand can be thought of as a shortcut for a state’s desirable image that encapsulates its complex reality, including culture, history, politics, people, and other distinguishing features in a set of potentially valuable associations and descriptions.[16] Conceptually, nation branding is compatible with the notion of national image and identity construction. Both nation brand and national image are facets of states’ soft power, and both combine foreign policy goals with soft power strategies of noncoercive nature. The strength of state image and its national brand is partly determined by how it accords with international expectations and norms. Nation brand is, thus, a form of image capital. It embraces a set of potentially valuable associations that help a state to accomplish its foreign policy goals, secure favorable political decisions from other states and international organizations, attract tourists and capital investments, and drive the sales of national products.[17] Recognizing the importance of nation brands, the vocation of nation branding has flourished in recent years spawning a popular Nation Brands Index ranking countries on a number of reputational factors.[18] Democratic and non-democratic states alike resort to the assistance of PR firms for manufacturing impactful promotional materials, designing intelligent advertising campaigns, drafting press releases and speeches, and even monitoring the online reports about a country and limiting the negative media coverage on the Internet.[19] In Central Asia, Kazakhstan has pioneered the nation branding efforts through its work with the PR specialists on developing promotional advertisements about the country. After the release of Borat, the Kazakh government hired a Western public relations firm to counter the movie’s representation of the country and improve its national image. Since then, ads about “Kazakhstan—The Heart of Eurasia” have appeared on multiple international channels (BBC, CNN (International), Euronews, and others) or published in the international print media. Whereas domestically governments are in greater control over the ideas and images circulated for internal consumption, they have limited leverage over the external image of their country as it is anchored in the international norms, knowledge, and expectations floating in an uncontrolled environment and scrutinized by more skeptical and unattached politicians, journalists, tourists, and investors. Furthermore, nation branding takes place in a highly competitive environment where many other states offer the same “product”—cultural assets, functioning institutions, educated people, and stable and effective government. To be successful in this international marketplace, not only do states have to meet the expectations of “quality” for their political institutions, business environment, and tourist infrastructure, but also exceed them by offering an “edge” attractive to potential investors, tourists,

and other power holders on a global and regional scale.[20] To analyze external image construction, or nation branding, by Turkmenistan, I examined international communications of the Turkmen government targeting other governments, international organizations, international business community, and potential tourists. These communications have been delivered at the meetings of various international and regional organizations, on the sidelines of international business expositions and conferences, and in the context of international forums. These communications have been published as texts in the international and Turkmenistan online media and press. To identify and download these texts, I used LexisNexis Academic database and EastView database in addition to several official and diplomatic sites supported by the Turkmen government.[21] These texts were downloaded and scrutinized to discern specific presentations of Turkmenistan’s political structure, economy, cultural heritage, as well as any unique markers that its government highlights for distinguishing Turkmenistan from other countries.

INTERNATIONAL IMAGE PROMOTED BY TURKMENISTAN Turkmenistan is a latecomer to the enterprise of nation branding. The eccentricities of President Niyazov’s rule combined with the tight societal control of his administration bestowed a highly negative image on Turkmenistan. President Niyazov cared little about his regime’s unflattering reputation. The Turkmen government reacted to the criticisms of foreign governments and international organizations with more strenuous effort to insulate Turkmenistan from international pressure and demands for democratization. The erratic foreign policy and dictatorial management style of the Niyazov administration also contributed to the country’s growing international isolation. A home to considerable hydrocarbon reserves, Turkmenistan failed to capitalize on its endowments with natural resources and attract foreign capital. As a consequence of very cautious, controlling, and secretive energy policy most of the major investors and corporations left Turkmenistan, and the country was designated as “inhospitable to investment” by international financial organizations. At the end of Niyazov’s sixteenyear rule Turkmenistan was known to the outsiders for all the wrong reasons: Pharaonic architectural projects of the president, his book of spiritual guidance Rukhnama, and Niyazov’s personality cult most visibly defined by the golden statues of the president built across the country. Western publications portrayed Turkmenistan as the most repressive of all post-Soviet states. The international community denounced the country’s arbitrary judicial practices and deplored the deteriorating human rights situation.[22] In stark contrast to Niyazov, President Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov, who became acting president following Niyazov’s death and subsequently won the February 2007 and February 2012 presidential elections, has made numerous overtures to international leaders and the international business community in an effort

to improve Turkmenistan’s reputation. The growing dynamism of Berdymukhamedov’s foreign policy has been quickly dubbed as “the Great Era of Rebirth,” “The Epoch of Happiness,” and the new “Golden Age” in Turkmenistan.[23] Turkmenistan’s foreign policy of positive neutrality has been showcased as the country’s national brand. Turkmenistan as a new “Central Asian Kuwait” has become a conspicuous theme emphasizing Turkmenistan’s energy potential and attractiveness to foreign investors. The country’s age-old heritage of monumental culture and crafts has been creatively woven into its international identity. References to these cultural assets appear frequently in the image-making rhetoric of the official representatives from Turkmenistan. Even the theme of a progressive democratic development has become a part of the country’s national brand, although it has been diluted in references to modern advances made by the Berdymukhamedov’s government in its urban design and architectural constructions.

Remaking Foreign Policy of Positive Neutrality The doctrine of permanent neutrality has comprised a key element of nation building for post-Soviet Turkmenistan. Introduced in 1994 by President Niyazov as a doctrinal breakthrough in Turkmenistan’s foreign policy, it was recognized by the UN General Assembly Resolution in December 1995.[24] Positive neutrality has been presented as a grand strategy that organically corresponds to the Turkmen mentality and “the specific historical features of Turkmen people, who have always distinguished themselves by their peacefulness, good neighborliness, diligence, and originality.”[25] In reality, however, it was a pragmatic choice of the Niyazov government designed to break free from the Kremlin’s stranglehold over Turkmenistan’s exports of gas. Throughout the 1990s, Turkmenistan’s neutral status allowed the Niyazov government to do away with uncomfortable political alliances and binding economic commitments that threatened to limit its foreign policy alternatives. It also enabled the governing regime to shrink Turkmenistan’s army and considerably reduce the republic’s military expenditures. Overall, the Niyazov regime failed to capitalize on the country’s pivotal position as one of the world’s major natural gas exporters and realize the “positive” and “constructive” dimensions of Turkmenistan’s neutrality. Under Niyazov, the constructive side of “positive neutrality” was merely a rhetorical device as his government cautiously sought bilateral agreements and recoiled from multilateral ties. This entailed a nearly complete disengagement of the country from international affairs and organizations and gave rise to the perception of its neutrality as a blueprint for self-isolation of Turkmenistan. The Berdymukhamedov government turned the policy of permanent neutrality into a national brand of Turkmenistan and a linchpin of its ample international projects. Framed as an integral part of the “new era” for a “new country,” in this way symbolizing a change from the isolationist tendencies of the past, international

initiatives of the Berdymukhamedov government have been designed to not only improve Turkmenistan’s international relations and facilitate its acceptance in the world community, but also raise the global awareness of the benefits of positive neutrality in the areas of international stability and peace. In other words, the Berdymukhamedov government has endeavored to create a stronger international appreciation for the principle of “positive neutrality” in international affairs and, with it, a greater recognition of Turkmenistan exemplifying it. The foreign policy dynamism of the new Turkmen leader has been frequently pointed out as a token of active and constructive engagement of Turkmenistan with the world. After assuming the president’s post, Gurbanguly Bedymukhammedov has signaled a desire to engage more actively with Russia, to repair mistrust and damaged relations with the neighboring states, and to reach out to the Western states and institutions. In the first year of his rule, President Berdymukhamedov accepted delegations from all neighboring states and representatives of the United States and EU. He extended invitations to the leaders of many other countries and paid official visits to Russia, China, Kazakhstan, Iran, United Arab Emirates, and other countries, and spoke at the UN and NATO.[26] Turkmenistan’s chairmanship of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) in 2012 became a pinnacle of its renewed efforts at constructive and multilateral engagement in regional and global affairs. President Niyazov, who thought of regional cooperation as dangerous and useless, held deep antipathy toward the regional projects and boycotted all regional groupings and initiatives. Turkmenistan became an associated member of the CIS in 2005, but its participation in the CIS activities was nominal. The 2012 chairmanship of the CIS by Turkmenistan was an unprecedented event in the twenty-year history of this organization. The CIS summit chaired by Berdymukhamedov and a series of meetings and events organized by the Turkmen government during 2012 were designed to signify “a new chapter in the relations of friendship and cooperation that have been existing for centuries” among the CIS states.[27] Berdymukhamedov’s ascendance to the leadership role has been framed as a historical opportunity for turning Turkmenistan’s neutral status into true multi-vectorism.[28] Together with the preparation of Turkmenistan’s capital for hosting the CIS meetings and summits, the Turkmen government published several glossy volumes about the country advertised as the passport to modern Turkmenistan and a comprehensive guide into the rich world of its national traditions and culture. In the years preceding the Ashgabat meetings of the CIS, Turkmenistan redoubled its image-making efforts. To dispel myths about the republic and close the “gaps” about Turkmenistan’s politics, culture, and society in the neighbors’ informational space, the Turkmen government launched a unique electronic resource —Turkmenistan.ru—and an international magazine Turkmenistan published in English and Russian and registered in Russia. Serving the function of an official informational news agency for Turkmenistan, Turkmenistan.ru and the magazine Turkmenistan claim to provide timely news and news analyses on foreign policy, politics, economic development, and the culture of Turkmenistan prepared by the Turkmen and Russian

correspondents. Turkmenistan’s government has played up their country’s pivotal position in the realm of global energy security in their international image-making projects. In 2008, the Turkmen government launched the inter-regional energy dialogue under the UN auspices with the goal of creating an international framework for safe and uninterrupted supply of hydrocarbon resources to international markets. The same year, Turkmenistan proposed a draft UN resolution called “Reliable and Stable Energy Transit and Its Role in Sustainable Development and International Cooperation” that was approved by the UN General Assembly on 19 December 2008. Turkmenistan’s energy diplomacy culminated in the most recent proposal in still another UN resolution on the transit of energy adopted by the UN General Assembly in May 2013. The aim of the resolution is to facilitate international cooperation for ensuring reliable transportation of energy to the international markets using the pipelines infrastructure or other systems of energy delivery. As part of the resolution, the government of Turkmenistan proposed to convene a meeting of international experts in 2014 in Ashgabat devoted to the implementation of the resolution as well as recommendations of the earlier conference on the topic of reliable and stable energy transit held in Ashgabat in 2009. Overall, the capital of Turkmenistan has seen a torrent of international activity in 2012-2013. The government of President Berdymukhamedov supported conferences, forums, and diplomatic summits on a variety of topics ranging from energy and sustainable development to environmental risks, conflict and refugees in the Muslim world. These meetings accompanied by the energetic participation of Turkmenistan’s leader in the activities of international and regional organizations have been portrayed as a symbol of growing international trust and respect for Turkmenistan as well as the recognition of its constructive role in international affairs.[29]

Enhancing Market Attractiveness of Turkmenistan Strengthening Turkmenistan’s market image is one of the priorities of the Berdymukhamedov government, if judged by the sheer number of references to Turkmenistan’s steady rates of economic growth, rapid infrastructure development, changes in financial policies, and new measures of protection of investors’ rights. The government has publicized these economic accomplishments to attest to Turkmenistan’s compliance with the international requirements and standards. Strong economic reputation is paramount for Turkmenistan. The country’s gas deposits are vast but difficult to access and transport to foreign customers. Subsequently, the Turkmen government has regularly expressed enthusiasm for attracting more foreign investment. In addition, petroleum and petroleum products account for nearly 80 percent of Turkmenistan’s exports making it susceptible to the world energy price fluctuations and changes in the supply and demand of energy products. Various programs of economic development approved by the Turkmen leadership in recent years recognize the importance of the creation of a more diverse, reliable and stable

system of deliveries of Turkmen energy products to international market and diversification of Turkmenistan’s economy. During the first year of his presidency, Berdymukhamedov commissioned the first independent audit of the South Yolotan-Osman Field, which ultimately showed that the field’s gas deposits stand between 13.1 and 21.2 trillion cubic meters of gas, second only in size to Iran’s South Pars.[30] The first energy conference hosted by Ashgabat in November 2008 following the announcement of the gas field’s audit attracted some 230 companies from thirty-five countries.[31] Welcoming the conference’s delegates, Berdymukhamedov proclaimed a new “Open Door” policy in the energy sector and invited foreign companies to invest their capital into the development of Turkmenistan’s vast reserves of gas. The president also promised a legislative foundation that is consistent with international norms and offered “equal conditions and possibilities to all those wishing to do business in Turkmenistan.”[32] The same year the government of Turkmenistan launched a new international journal Oil, Gas, and Mineral Resources of Turkmenistan, which mission was defined as “positioning Turkmenistan’s oil and gas industry as a dynamic, promising, and highly significant element of the global energy system; propagating energy policy of Turkmenistan’s leadership and its achievements in the international arena; forming a positive investment image of Turkmenistan; and providing up-to-date information and analyses about the situation in the oil and gas industry of Turkmenistan.” In the following years, President Berdymukhamedov inaugurated a new National Bureau of Statistics and Institute for Strategic Planning and Economic Development. In April 2011, the Turkmen government unveiled a new oil and gas research center housing several laboratories for the Turkmengas Oil and Gas Institute, the Oil and Gas Institute Professional Training Center, and the state-owned TurkmenGeology Exploration Institute.[33] This project is one of the latest initiatives of a wide-ranging energy export program, which also prioritizes improvements in the technological process of energy production and enhancement of energy infrastructure. Although almost all foreign direct investments have been earmarked for projects related to energy, the government of Turkmenistan has sought opportunities for expanding its foreign trade and attracting foreign capital in other domestic industrial sectors. Turkmenistan’s carpets, unique fabrics, and jewelry have been the age-old trademarks of the Turkmen material culture. The Berdymukhamedov government has been actively popularizing Turkmen textiles through the frequent participation of the representatives of the textile industry in the international and European trade, textile, and fashion exhibitions. The Turkmen textile industry received a boost from the increase in the domestic cotton and wool production but requires considerable investments for refurbishing its outmoded enterprises. It is not surprising that Turkmenistan’s imports structure has been dominated by technological equipment for production purposes. In addition to textile and other products of the cotton-producing industry (yarn, knitting and denim fabrics, bedding, and clothing), the Turkmen government has been promoting its agricultural products grown in the favorable

climate of Turkmenistan. Melons, watermelons, and a great variety of seasonal fruits and vegetables and the products of their processing have been recently showcased in the European trade fairs. Lastly, as a patron to the country’s horse breeding industry and a head of the International Akhal-Teke Horse Association, President Berdymukhamedov has been seeking opportunities for reviving the ailing horse breeding industry including through partnerships between Turkmen and international horse breeders.[34] The Turkmen people share a great devotion for the Akhal-Teke horse, the proud national symbol of Turkmenistan adorning its state emblem. Increasing the population of the Akhal-Teke horses and gaining international recognition for this desert racehorse breed has been named as one of the Turkmen government’s priorities. The Berdymukhamedov cabinet undertook numerous efforts to enhance the international fame of Akhal-Teke horses including through the regular conferences and other events to encourage horse-breeding activities. The revitalization of the horse breeding industry has a significant symbolic meaning for Turkmenistan, whose motto is “the country that was able to harness a mythical race horse.”

Turkmenistan: Destination Branding Images of foreign countries are affected by not only perceptions of their foreign policies, economic development and business climate, but also knowledge of their culture. The tourist industry, therefore, plays a vital role in nation branding. The carefully selected tourist destinations, images, and unique place identifiers serve as a microcosm of a country’s rich cultural heritage and people. Destination branding that refers to the creation of a positive image of the place with the goal of turning a potential visitor into an enthused ambassador for the place is crucial to the national image. The government of President Berdymukhamedov recognizes the importance of tourism for the country’s international image and its socio-economic development. Turkmenistan’s tourism industry has suffered from underdevelopment, visa restraints, and excessive government’s control and red tape. As a consequence, tourism has amounted to less than 1 percent of Turkmenistan’s GDP. The government’s Tourism Development Program for 2012-2016 sets an ambitious goal of the formation of a competitive tourist industry in Turkmenistan, and emphasizes the importance of creation of an attractive tourist image of the country as pivotal for international tourism in Turkmenistan, which is the most profitable tourist sector. A new State Committee for Tourism created in 2012 is now tasked with the expansion of geography and diversity of tourist routes, improvement of quality of services and tourist infrastructure, training of specialists for the tourist and hotel industry, and running effective promotional campaigns about tourism in Turkmenistan.[35] The descriptions of Turkmenistan displayed at the world tourism fairs and on the government and tourist websites reveal several strategies used by the Turkmen authorities for increasing the attractiveness of their country for potential visitors. First,

the Turkmen government and representatives of the tourism industry have promoted unique cultural markers—Turkmen carpets, jewelry, the Akhal-Teke horse breed, ancient ruins, and the “city of white marble,” Turkmenistan’s capital Ashgabat—that allow Turkmenistan to differentiate their country from other tourist destinations. Turkmenistan’s culture has been reduced to its simplest and completely depoliticized folkloric expressions emphasizing Turkmen material and monumental culture (ancient ruins, traditional crafts, clothing, and food customs) and less so the corpus of its epical texts, tales, and legends.[36] The Turkmen carpet pigeonholed as the “soul of the Turkmen” has become a centerpiece of the national cultural brand of Turkmenistan.[37] Designated as a national symbol, it has been ascribed the same importance as the pyramids for Egypt on the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ sites around the world. Both the Turkmen government and tourist agencies have been actively promoting Turkmen carpets and the carpet-making art among the foreign audiences for the “magical beauty,” “artistic expressiveness,” rich tapestry of colors, and longevity achieved over the centurieslong tradition of carpet-weaving. To commemorate the tenth anniversary of independence of Turkmenistan and one of its oldest cultural traditions, Turkmen carpet-makers produced the largest handmade carpet in the world. Weighing about 1.5 tons and covering the area of 301 square meters, this masterpiece entered into the Guinness Book of Records and is now kept along with thousands of other unique carpets in the Carpet Museum in Ashgabat, a main contemporary tourist destination. [38]

In addition to carpets, Turkmenistan likes to play up its “most unexplored” antiquity. The ruins of the ancient city of Nisa, the first capital of the Parthian Empire, spectacular Islamic monuments, deserted caravan cities, and various artifacts of the nomadic and Shaman traditions have been presented as “a lost world of Central Asia” and a “must-see” destination. In the simplistic historiography repeated on the tourist and governmental websites, the modern Turkmen are portrayed as the indigenous inhabitants of the area with a millennium-old history. The Turkmen state is presented as the descendant of the ancient Parthian civilization and, therefore, a rightful successor to its historical legacy.[39] Along with conveying the expectations of a memorable and rewarding travel experience uniquely associated with Turkmenistan’s cultural sites and traditional handcrafts, the tourist information posted on the tourist agencies’ websites have been designed to create a perception that a visitor’s needs and desires will be met and there will be no risks associated with travel to the country. The hospitality of Turkmen toward foreign guests has been repeatedly stressed as well as the availability of the developed tourist infrastructure corresponding to the highest Western standards. Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan, has been utilized as the country’s tourist and business card. The Turkmen government has spent billions of dollars on modernization of the capital city flaunting high-rise luxury hotels, smooth highways and avenues, fashionable restaurants, and manicured parks. The modern hotel infrastructure has been built in the regions across the county, especially the areas rich

in natural resources and cultural sites. Avaza, a tourism zone on the Caspian coast, has become the centerpiece of President Berdymukhamedov’s plans of building world-class tourism infrastructure in Turkmenistan. Most of the state investments in the tourism industry have been allocated toward the construction of this luxurious resort town. The idea of Avaza is supposedly emulating Kazakhstan’s projects in the port towns of Aturau and Aktau and is designed to enhance Turkmenistan’s international prestige.[40] Among the many incentives to attract foreign investment into the Avaza projects, the Turkmen government introduced simplified visa rules, tax breaks, custom privileges for imported construction materials and equipment, and attractive land lease contracts.

Creating an Image of a Modern and Democratic State Since the fall of communism and the so-called “third wave” of democratization in the countries of East and Central Europe and former Soviet Union, there has been a steady trend toward the acceptance of democracy as the only system which confers legitimacy upon a government.[41] As a result, even the most undemocratic regimes now unabashedly portray their countries as law-governed and democratic.[42] Turkmenistan under the Berdymukhamedov government has been no exception to this practice. President Berdymukhamedov has trumpeted stability, democracy, and the rule of law as the building blocks of his governance and vowed to continue democratization as a guarantee of peace and well-being for all. Many analysts concur that political reforms carried out by the Berdymukhamedov government have been externally driven, cursory, and inconsistent. In the run-up to the February 2007 presidential elections, Berdymukhamedov announced that these elections would be held on a democratic basis. His electoral agenda included a number of promises indicative of an imminent relaxation of the regime’s grip over Turkmenistan’s political landscape. In an unprecedented gesture, Berdymukhamedov accepted the Needs Assessment Mission of the Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR) of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) in January 2007, but this initiative did not materialize into a standard Electoral Observation Mission of the OSCE due to a very quick turnaround for the election. Many other political statements also failed to translate into operational policies.[43] Following the elections, Berdymukhamedov initiated a series of constitutional changes approved in September 2008. These reforms entailed the abolishment of the Halk Maslahaty (People’s Council)—the highest legislative and deliberative body of Turkmenistan consisting of about 2,500 members, some of whom were elected. Its powers were transferred to the president and the Turkmen Parliament (Majlis), which size was expanded from 65 to 125 members. The system of elections of provincial and district governors was terminated. The revised version of the constitution also established the right of any individual to own private property, including land and real

estate, and to form small and medium-size businesses. This measure was explained as consistent with the goal of complete transition to market economy and demonstrating state support for entrepreneurship and small and medium business.[44] Following the enactment of the constitutional changes, a new law on the parliament went into effect in January 2009 that expanded the de jure competencies of Turkmenistan’s parliament.[45] Since its independence, Turkmenistan has been a single-party state with the Democratic Party of Turkmenistan being the only officially registered political entity. Upon his accession to the post of the president, Berdymukhamedov expressed interest in introducing political pluralism in the republic. In 2010, he announced the creation of a new party—the Agrarian Party (Daikhan) of Turkmenistan—to demonstrate his country’s progress on “the path to democracy.” Many speculated that the announcement came in the wake of March 2010 report by the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development, in which the financial institution expressed concern with Turkmenistan’s failure to make progress toward political pluralism and multi-party democracy.[46] It has been surmised that the announcement about the creation of a two-party system in Turkmenistan was made to encourage foreign states and financial institutions to provide assistance to Turkmenistan. Little progress in the creation of a space for real political competition followed these public proclamations and almost no information has surfaced about activities and operations of the Agrarian Party of Turkmenistan since 2010. The initiative at forging a two-party system was repeated two years later when the president announced the creation of another political party—the Party of Industrialists and Entrepreneurs—following the adoption of a new act on political parties by the Turkmen Parliament. The new party was officially registered in August 2012 and took part in the special elections for five vacant parliamentary seats the following summer. This landmark event in the political history of Turkmenistan resulted in the election of the chairman of the party—Ovezmammed Mammedov—who was not a member of the ruling Democratic Party of Turkmenistan to the Turkmen Parliament. President Bredymukhamedov hailed these accomplishments as consistent with the goals of democratization of the Turkmen society and gradual transition of Turkmenistan to a multi-party system.[47] In the area of human rights where the Turkmen regime has had the most abysmal record, the Turkmen government has also shown interest in improving its record. In its report to the UN Human Rights Commission submitted in compliance with the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which Turkmenistan acceded to in 1997, the Turkmen government trumpeted progressive changes in various areas of political and social life and vowed to move forward with a package of the new laws approved by Turkmenistan’s legislators for protecting human rights.[48] The UN Human Rights Committee acknowledged Turkmenistan’s new willingness to improve its troubling human rights record and commended its government for allowing the Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Religion to visit Turkmenistan. Still, the final

report noted that much work needed to be done as torture, appalling detention conditions, and lack of judicial independence continued to be major problems in Turkmenistan.[49] Commenting on political reforms unfolding in his state, President Berdymukhamedov frequently stresses “a natural and harmonious nature of [the] process” of Turkmenistan’s democratization. Rapid democratization or blind following of the democratic experiences of other states have been ruled out as inappropriate for Turkmenistan. According to the Turkmen leadership, the so-called “gradual and evolutionary” approach to democratization has been necessary to ensure that political and socio-economic reforms in Turkmenistan are consistent with “the centuries-old democratic traditions” of Turkmen and their “ancestors’ spiritual precepts.”[50] In other words, the shape and speed of democratization has been explained by the imperative of harmonizing political reforms with the people’s historical experiences and their philosophical and moral values. The latter have been frequently referred to as the binding principles of state building and determinants of the national peculiarities in the social and political processes in Turkmenistan. The Council of Elders—a consultative assembly of elders from all provinces of Turkmenistan assisting the president in addressing issues of state importance—is one such peculiar organ designed to embody the Turkmen tradition of reverence to the authority of elders and reliance on the advice of senior members of society in matters of importance. Consisting of several hundred Turkmen citizens over sixty years old and enjoying prestige and respect in their communities, the Elders’ Council functions on a voluntary basis convened by the president. In addition to presenting their state as democratic, the leadership of Turkmenistan has been eager to present the country as a modern and rapidly developing state. References to modernity often go hand in hand and even supersede the Turkmen government’s remarks about democratization. President Niyazov’s determination to reshape the architecture and landscape of Turkmenistan has been viewed as an extension of his personality cult and manifestation of his personal megalomania. Berdymukhamedov’s monumental projects, on the other hand, have been framed as the epitome of national historical heritage combined with the highest modern standards. The official presentations of Bedymukhamendov’s architectural and other innovations emphasize how these modern projects exemplify the unique qualities of the Turkmen. The height of skyscrapers peppered around Turkmenistan’s capital are said to symbolize high aspirations and hope for the future shared by the Turkmen people. Modern factories, medical, culture, and sport facilities, new schools, and establishments of higher education epitomize the economic might of Turkmenistan. The speed and spread of the new construction projects are posited as a testament of the “nation’s horse speedy developments.”[51] Four architectural projects overseen by President Berdymukhamedov entered the records of the Guinness Book of World Records. These include the fountain complex of Oguzhkan and his sons featuring the greatest number of fountains; the tallest unsupported flagpole; the largest indoor Ferris wheel built inside of the new

entertainment center; and the largest architectural stair built on the façade of the 692foot television tower. According to the president, the entry of these projects into the Guinness Book “signifies the triumph of the country’s grandiose reforms.” “It proves that the Turkmen people’s architectural art has been raised up to the top level.”[52]

CONCLUSION A new company that enters a marketplace immediately faces tough competition that can not be sustained on the price factors alone. The company must demonstrate its compliance with the internationally recognized benchmarks for corporate performance and public expectations concerning its social responsibilities. Doing so will allow the company to build a positive and recognizable image, strong reputation for quality and customer service, encourage customers’ acceptance, increase market share, and boost sales and profits. If the company refuses or fails to embrace the corporate norms, it risks losing customers’ trust in its financial, operational, and social soundness. New states as well as those that have recently experienced a principal shift in their identity, usually through the regime change, find themselves in a similar situation. They need to promote their names and reputation for securing global recognition and attracting positive global attention. This is partly accomplished through nation branding and anchoring their practices in the existing global expectations and norms. The government of President Bedymukhamedov clearly recognizes the importance of international image for Turkmenistan’s development and foreign relations. Today more than ever before it is concerned with their state’s reputation. As this chapter showed, the Turkmen authorities have been actively engaged in nation branding to present Turkmenistan as a modern, democratic, rapidly developing, and hospitable state. In its foreign policy, high stakes have been placed on Turkmenistan’s renewed constructive engagement with other states and international organizations and leadership in the area of energy security and transportation. Positive neutrality— a central tenet of Turkmenistan’s foreign relations—has been elevated to the vital principle of international relations capable of fostering international development, conflict resolution, and peace. To increase its market attractiveness, the Turkmen government has flaunted the country’s stable political and social situation, sustained economic growth, strong resource potential, and the availability of legal guarantees for foreign investments established in accordance with international requirements. To promote Turkmenistan’s destination brand abroad, the Turkmen authorities and tourist firms have been playing up the country’s unexplored antiquity and the little known world of unique monumental art and Turkmen cultural heritage. In addition to shaping expectations of a memorable and rewarding travel experience associated with Turkmenistan’s cultural sites and traditional handcraft, the government has pointed up the availability of modern tourist infrastructure. Even in the realm of politics, the Berdymukhamedov regime has portrayed the country as modern, law-governed, and democratic.

How successful has Turkmenistan been in revamping its image and refurbishing international reputation? Just like a successful marketing campaign requires a company to “live the brand,” the international recognition of the state-promoted image is contingent on the consistency of the nation brand identity with its practices. National reputation is buried in the perceptions of governments and peoples around the world. It can only be rebuilt slowly and painstakingly by eliminating or altering practices that are inconsistent with the promoted image, and nurturing traditions that correspond to international expectations and norms. Many reforms implemented by the Turkmen government in recent years for repairing the country’s international image have been superficial and externally driven by a need of attracting foreign capital. Despite the few improvements made in the socio-economic, political, and foreign policy realms since the presidency of Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov, Turkmenistan remains a closed and secretive territory. The access to its bountiful natural resources and cultural riches is hindered by cumbersome bureaucratic procedures of acquiring visas and permits as well as stringent requirements and restrictions imposed on the movement of foreigners inside Turkmenistan. The low penetration of credit cards and mobile phones, scant connectivity to the World Wide Web, and high Internet fees remain the main obstacles to the development of online services and payments. In the area of politics and governance, a precarious situation with regard to personal liberties and political rights persists. The political competition is paralyzed throughout the country, and freedoms of the press, assembly, religion, and speech are suppressed. Endemic corruption and legal uncertainty detract from the attractiveness of Turkmenistan as tourist or business destination. As a result, its international image remains bleak. The future development of the country’s energy sector, foreign relations, and tourism industry will largely depend on the decisions and practices of the Berdymukhamedov cabinet and future Turkmen governments.

NOTES 1. Alexander Wendt, “Anarchy is What States Make of It: The Social Construction of Power Politics,” International Organization 46, no. 2 (1992): 391–425. 2. Peter L. Katzenstein, “Introduction,” in The Culture of National Security, ed. Peter L. Katzenstein (New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1996), 22; Yücel Bozdaglioglu, Turkish Foreign Policy and Turkish Identity: A Constructivist Approach (New York & London: Routledge, 2003), 24. 3. Erica Marat, “Nation Branding in Central Asia: A New Campaign to Present Ideas about the State and the Nation,” Europe-Asia Studies 61, no. 7 (2009), 1123. 4. Simon Anholt, Competitive Identity: The New Brand Management for Nations, Cities and Regions (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 3–6. 5. Simon Anholt, “Beyond the Nation Brand: The Role of Image and Identity in International Relations,” Exchange: The Journal of Public Diplomacy, Syracuse University (2011), 8.

6. It should be noted, however, that the notion of state identity is not excluded from the purview of other theoretical perspectives. According to classical realists, favorable image and reputation have an inherent value and a type of demonstrative power (Hans Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace, 4th edition (New York: Knopf, 1967), 36. For many other theorists of international relations, national image has an instrumental value. Governments care about their reputation because it has a dispositional quality, that is, other actors may rely on it for predicting and explaining states’ behavior (Jonathan Mercer, Reputation and International Politics (Cornell University Press, 1996), 16. Reputation, therefore, matters for assessing the likelihood of conflict, conflict resolution, or international cooperation. 7. Ted Hopf, “The Promise of Constructivism in International Relations Theory,” International Security 23, no. (1998), 177. 8. Mariya Omelicheva, “Central Asian Conceptions of ‘Democracy’: Ideological Resistance to International Democratization,” in The International Dimensions of Authoritarian Persistence in the Former Soviet Union, eds. Rachel Vanderhill and Michael E. Aleprete, Jr. (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2013), 81–104. 9. David J. Farley, Ole R. Holsti, and Richard R. Fagen, Enemies in Politics (Chicago: Rand McNally & Company, 1967), 26. 10. Sheng Ding, “Branding a Rising China: An Analysis of Beijing's National Image Management in the Age of China's Rise,” Journal of Asian and African Studies 46, no. 3 (2011): 293–306. 11. Joseph Nye, “Springing Tiger,” India Today, October 2 (2006), 11. 12. Wally Olins, Trading Identities: Why Countries and Companies are Taking on Each Other’s Roles (London: The Foreign Policy Center, 1999). 13. Marat, “Nation Branding in Central Asia.” 14. Peter van Ham, “Place Branding: The State of the Art,” Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 616 (March 2008), 126–49. 15. Anholt , Competitive Identity, 3. 16. Zala Volcic and Mark Andrejevic, “Nation Branding in the Era of Commercial Nationalism,” International Journal of Communication 5 (2011), 598–618. 17. Zala Volcic and Mark Andrejevic, “Nation Branding.” 18. Simon Anholt, “Anholt-GMI Nation Brands Index, 2006 Q4 General Report.” Nation Brands Index, accessed June 1, 2013, www.nationbrandsindex.com. 19. Shana Marshall, “Polishing the Police State: PR Campaigns and Authoritarian Image-Building in the Middle East,” Paper Prepared for the 2011 Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, Seattle, WA, 1–4 September, 2011. 20. Marshall, “Polishing the Police State.” 21. In particular, I analyzed presentation of Turkmenistan on the websites of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Turkmen embassies, and on Turkmenistan.ru, an official informational news agency of the Turkmen government. 22. Luca Anceschi, Turkmenistan’s Foreign Policy: Positive Neutrality and the Consolidation of the Turkmen Regime (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), 76,

124. 23. ITAR-TASS, “Turkmen Leader on a Visit to France to Boost Horse Breeding Ties,” October 7 (2012). Accessed through the EastView Database. 24. Anceschi, Turkmenistan’s Foreign Policy. 25. Boris O. Shikhmuradov (Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Turkmenistan), “Positive Neutrality as the Basis of the Foreign Policy of Turkmenistan” (2012), accessed August 1, 2013, sam.gov.tr/wpcontent/uploads/2012/01/BORIS-O.-SHIKHMURADOV.pdf. 26. Viktoriya Panfilova, “Turkmeniya Menyaet Imidzh” [in Russian], Nezavisimaya Gazeta 30 August (2007), accessed August 1, 2013, www.ng.ru/cis/2007-0830/1_image.html. 27. Jean-Christophe Peuch, “Turkmenistan: New President Modifying Niyazov’s Neutrality Policy,” Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, 11 May (2007), accessed August 3, 2013, www.rferl.org/content/article/1076405.html. 28. ITAR-TASS, “Turkmenistan Marks Neutrality Day,” 12 December (2012). Accessed through the EastView Database. 29. Gubanguly Berdymukhamedov, Speech of the President of Turkmenistan at the Inauguration of the New Building of the Institute of International Relations of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” 1 September (2011), accessed August 3, 2013, www.untuk.org/files/news/090911_Gurbanguly_Berdimuhamedov_speech.pdf. 30. James Kilner, “Turkmenistan Holds World’s Second Largest Gas Field,” The Telegraph, 11 October (2011), accessed August 1, 2013, www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/turkmenistan/8820509/Turkmenistanholds-worlds-second-largest-gas-field.html. 31. Sebastien Peyrouse, Turkmenistan: Strategies of Power, Dilemmas of Development (Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 169. 32. Eurasianet.org, “Turkmenistan: Leader Proclaims ‘Open Door’ Investment Policy,” 26 March (2008), accessed August 1, 2013, www.eurasianet.org/departments/insight/articles/eav032708.shtml. 33. Central Asia Newswire, “Turkmenistan Unveils New Oil and Gas Research Center,” 5 April (2011), accessed August 1, 2013, www.universalnewswires.com/centralasia/viewstory.aspx?id=3737. 34. IRAR-TASS, “CIS People Have Huge Spiritual Heritage—Turkmenistan’s President,” 15 October (2012), accessed through the EastView Database. 35. State News Agency of Turkmenistan, “Reforms of the Epoch of Progress: Tourist Industry,” Turkmenistan.gov, 19 September (2012), accessed August 3, 2013, www.turkmenistan.gov.tm/_eng/?id=1290. 36. Peyrouse, Turkmenistan, 59. 37. Ashgabat—In the Guinness Book of Records (Ashgabat: Turkmen Dowlet Nesiryat Gullugy, 2013), 13. 38. Ashgabat—In the Guinness Book of Records. 39. Metahaven, “Brand States: Postmodern Power, Democratic Pluralism, and Design,” E-flux (2008), accessed August 3, 2013, www.e-flux.com/journal/brand-

states-postmodern-power-democratic-pluralism-and-design/. 40. Peyrouse, Turkmenistan. 41. Carl Gershman and Michael Allen, “The Assault on Democracy Assistance,” Journal of Democracy 17, no. 2 (2006), 36. 42. Omelicheva, “Central Asian Conceptions of ‘Democracy.’” 43. Anceschi, Turkmenistan’s Foreign Policy, 44. 44. “Constitutional Reforms Take Shape in Turkmenistan,” The Journal of Turkish Weekly, 24 July (2008), accessed July 30, 2013, www.turkishweekly.net/news/57834/constitutional-reforms-take-shape-inturkmenistan.html. 45. Peyrouse, Turkmenistan, 115. 46. Roger Kangas and Brianne Todd, “Berdimuhamedov’s Campaign for Political Pluralism and the Daikhan Party: Farmers of Turkmenistan Unite,” Eurasia Daily Monitor 7, no. 111 (2010), 9 June. 47. ITAR-TASS, “Turkmenistan’s Industrials, Entrepreneurs Establish Political Party,” 21 August (2012). Accessed through the EastView Database. 48. UN Department of Public Information, “Turkmenistan Poised to Move Forward with New Laws to Broadly Protect Human Rights after Implementing ‘Progressive Changes’, Human Rights Committee Told,” Human Rights Committee, 104th Session, 15 March (2012), accessed August 3, 2013, www.un.org/News/Press/docs/2012/hrct742.doc.htm. 49. UN Department of Public Information, “Human Rights Committee Notes Turkmenistan’s ‘New Willingness’ to Improve Human Rights Record, but Says Gap Remains between Legal Framework, Implementation,” Human Rights Committee, 104th Session, 16 March (2012), accessed August 3, 2013, www.un.org/News/Press/docs/2012/hrct743.doc.htm. 50. Trend H. Hasanov, “Turkmenistan Establishes Political Party of Industrialists and Entrepreneurs,” 21 August (2012), accessed August 1, 2013, en.trend.az/regions/casia/turkmenistan/2057744.html. 51. Ashgabat—In the Guinness Book of Records, 31. 52. Ashgabat—In the Guinness Book of Records, 31–32.

Chapter 7

Identity Theft? Reuel R. Hanks Ethnosymbolism, Autochthonism, and Aryanism in Uzbek and Tajik National Narratives A fundamental concept lying at the core of any national identity is that each national group, whether unified by a shared religion, language, history, or other characteristics, possesses a distinct historical origin, what John Breuilly terms “historicism.” Drawing heavily on the work of Johann Gottfried von Herder, Breuilly points out that a linguistic identity reaches far beyond simply the use of unique sounds and grammatical constructions; rather a language becomes a kind of “communal property,” along with other manifestations of identity, including obvious cultural identifiers like heroic figures, distinctive cuisine, modes of dress, ceremonies, and so on.[1] These are symbols that are claimed and “owned” by the group displaying them. Challenges to that ownership are typically perceived by the group as an existential threat, for the loss of control over such symbols erodes the very legitimacy of the identity itself. Sociologists studying identity theory make a closely related argument. The notion of “structural symbolic interaction” has gained traction among identity theorists over the past decade, suggesting that the existing social limitations and expectations that an individual redundantly encounters from birth serve to frame identity at the full range of scales, from individual to national.[2] This network of symbols and behavioral patterns “define boundaries . . . [and] will also affect the likelihood that persons will . . . have particular symbolic resources for defining situations they enter.”[3] These structures, representing both vertical and horizontal hierarchies, provide a frame of reference for all subsequent encounters. Through the application of “agency,” a theoretical concept shared with political science, sociologists using structural symbolic interaction theory have postulated that the motivations of actors within this system are reinforced and shaped by the structure itself. In the case of national identity, this falls quite close to Michael Billigs’s famous formulation concerning “banal nationalism,” in which quotidian exposure to the symbology of national identity leads to reinforcement —very much a process of structural symbolic interaction.[4] Symbols, especially those articulating and supporting a specific historical narrative, carry enormous weight in the legitimization of national identity. Elsewhere in this volume Galym Zhussipbek proposes that the “exclusivist” identities emerging in Central Asia since Soviet collapse are problematical on a number of levels. This is a compelling perspective when viewed through the prism of regional integration and cooperation, which is the issue that Zhussipbek confronts. However, the very nature of identity at almost any scale, from personal to national, involves the imposition of exclusivist boundaries, in the process that Foucault famously

labeled “Othering,”[5] which is itself simply an iteration of the process involving symbolic interaction described above. This process of creating “out groups,” Anthony Marx points out, is amplified in a post-colonial context where the “states make nations, rather than the reverse.”[6] Rejecting the key assumptions of instrumentalist scholars like Ernest Gellner and Benedict Anderson, as well as the deterministic arguments of the primordial school, Marx distills nationalism down to its structural symbolic core: “Instead, nationalism is often purposefully exclusive, with such exclusion emerging . . . to serve the explicit requirements for solidifying core loyalty to the nation.”[7] Indeed, this is but an attenuation of the argument made by the anthropologist Fredrik Barth almost half a century ago in his classic study of group interaction.[8] Succinctly put, under conditions in which post-colonial territorialized states are tasked with functionalizing an assigned national identity, such identity is encompassed by exclusionary boundaries that define the “in” and the “out” groups.

THE “INS” AND “OUTS” OF ETHNOSYMBOLISM In the post-colonial era, the scholarly discourse regarding the nature, and particularly the origins, of national identity has been polarized into the theoretical camps of the instrumentalists (constructionists, modernists), and the primordialists.[9] The former hold that national identity and its logical extension, nationalism, were not manifest until the modern era, defined in this case as no earlier than the seventeenth century. Liah Greenfeld, for example, holds that nationalism as recognized today did not appear until the arrival of Cromwell and the English Civil War.[10] In the 1980s new perspectives appeared in response to the dominant discourses of the instrumentalists. Scholars like John Armstrong, Anthony D. Smith and John Hutchinson developed a body of theory that rejected the notion that national identities and nationalism were phenomena produced strictly by capitalism and associated processes of the modern era. This new approach, “ethnosymbolism,” acknowledges that national identities may be modified by modern political, social, and economic systems, but these forces are not derivational. Rather, the origins of collective national consciousness lie in the constructive use of symbols. Smith eloquently draws the distinction between the two camps: “for ethno-symbolists, it is the community of the nation [emphasis in the original] that must occupy centre stage and, as a result, symbolic resources merit much greater attention.”[11] The institutions frequently employed by the modern nation state may indeed be drafted to sanctify what David Lowenthal has termed a “unifying web of retrospection,”[12] but public education, militaries, shared print and media, and common economic systems are vehicles to reinforce established symbols and myths, that are themselves derived from culture. A scholar who approaches a case study in national identity and who is an acolyte of the ethnosymbolic model as well, searches for the “cultural resources” that underlie that identity, according to Smith. These resources may include what Armstrong labeled the “mythomoteur,” a kind of creation myth, frequently based on an heroic

figure (who might be fictional or a composite) from antiquity, which defines the historical and cultural parameters of identity.[13] Smith describes the collective identity stemming from this symbology as an “ethnie,” a “named human population with myths of common ancestry, shared historical memories and one or more common elements of culture, including an association with a homeland, and some degree of solidarity, at least among the elites.”[14] Coupled to this conceptual framework is the notion of the longue duree, a precept borrowed from the Annales school of French historians, which represents the most dramatic departure from modernist theory. Ethnosymbolists argue that ethnies have evolved and matured over a much longer span than suggested by modernist theory, and a central element of identity, encapsulated in the application of the longue duree, is the advancement of a “golden age.” It is this reappropriation of and continuity with the past, over the longue duree and typically embodied in the mythomoteur, that establishes a unique identity.[15] Shared culture and the acceptance of historical myth are not the only factors that determine the character of the “in-group,” to borrow Anthony Marx’s terminology. The territorialization of identity plays a vital part, as Smith’s emphasis on “an association with a homeland,” reveals. The landscape itself, if incorporated into the mythomoteur, may constitute a component of identity,[16] but is not simply the geographical qualities of the landscape that are important in identity formation, but the duration the ethnie has been associated with the territory. Claims of autochthony associated with a specific territory legitimate and memorialize the presence of the ethnie. Such designs also serve as a response to any competing territorial claims, which often degenerate into a simplistic “we were here first,” a priori argument. Indeed, a territorialized identity bolstered by historical “proof” of occupancy via the longue duree may function as the raison d’etre of a nation-state. The most obvious example of the relevance of autochthonous territorialization of identity is that of the Jewish homeland, the state of Israel. The Zionist movement’s calls of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries for a return to Palestine and the establishment of a Jewish state there sprang directly from the autochthonous claims of a “promised land” that had been previously occupied by the Jewish ethnie from the time of Abraham.[17] This example alone should serve to underline the perils of conflicting national narratives and overlapping claims of autochthony between ethnies, regardless of whether they are spatially bounded or stateless.

UZBEK AND TAJIK IDENTITIES IN THE SOVIET ERA When national groups who have been historically co-joined, either voluntarily or by external powers, are unexpectedly presented with circumstances that demand separation, the result is frequently a reclamation, sometimes spirited, of those “cultural resources” which obsess the ethnosymbolists. Just in the space of the former Soviet bloc examples abound, including ethnies granted a state (Czechs/Slovaks) and ethnies who are stateless (Chechen/Ingush). For the past fifteen years what has been euphemistically termed “discursive encounters” between

scholars and government officials in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan concerning the ethnogenesis and historical antecedents of each newly emerged national identity have raged in the academic and popular literature published in each country.[18] The discussion in this chapter will use the conceptual frame of ethnosymbolism to analyze the evolution that has led to a fierce debate between Tajik and Uzbek commentators regarding who “owns” certain culture resources employed in the construction of national identity. The case of the post-Soviet Central Asian states illustrates Anthony Marx’s axiom of the post-colonial reversal: the new states must take the leading role in creating identities. This is necessary for several reasons. A coherent identity must be established in order to build loyalty and answer challenges to state survival, or at least to potential alternative forms of organization and governance. One such challenge in the view of all of the Central Asian regimes is the so-called “Islamic factor.” As Kirill Nourzhanov suggests in his contribution to this collection “officially sanctioned national narratives do not exist in a vacuum. They have to fight for the hearts and minds of the people against alternative conceptualizations of group solidarity.” Compounding the issue is the fact that Soviet nationalities policy expected that ethnically based loyalties would be ephemeral, giving way to a broader community that would root its identity in the egalitarian values of socialism. Within this historical context then, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan must establish the unique “cultural resources” that buttress the collective identity of the ethnie. Confusion and contradiction concerning identity and who might qualify as an ethnie in Central Asia are not confined solely to the post-Soviet environment. The division of the region known as “Turkestan” to Russian colonial administrators into titular, ethnically territorialized “republics” was haphazard and chaotic, and the premise that the boundaries that obtained followed the contours of indisputable "national" identities was false. On occasion, the thin foundation of these identities was revealed even in official Soviet documents and studies. For example, the All-Russian Academy of Sciences Commission for Studying the Tribal Composition of the Peoples of Russia and Adjacent Countries, a government-appointed body led by I.I. Zarubin, an accomplished specialist on Persia and Central Asia, in 1925 struggled with the notion that a distinctive ethnie that might be considered as “Uzbek” actually existed, and was even less sanguine concerning the existence of “Sarts.”[19] The year the Commission published its findings is quite significant, since this was the year following the delineation of the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic, a territory allegedly encircling a “nationality,” to use the Soviet nomenclature, that held a definitive collective consciousness. In other words, there was still considerable uncertainty among Soviet experts about whether the “Uzbeks” possessed a functional group identity, a year after the Soviet administration awarded them a specific territory based on that identity.[20] Soviet scholars and authorities were quite certain Tajiks were distinct from Uzbeks, although exactly who belonged to which group became problematical, since a tremendous amount of cultural cross-fertilization, as well as outright assimilation

had taken place over the centuries between the two groups. In the urban areas, many if not most of the elite were bilingual, although by the late nineteenth century Turki, the colloquial Turkic language in use at the time, was displacing Persian as an administrative language, a sign of the gradual imposition of Turkic culture in what Maria Eva Subtelny has designated the “symbiosis of Turk and Tajik.”[21] The eminent Russian ethnographer, Vasili Barthold, who traveled widely in Central Asia and was conversant in the languages of the region, reported that he encountered only a single administrator who did not speak Turki, even in cities where Tajik was used by a large proportion of the population.[22] The process of linguistic assimilation of Tajik speakers was observed by anthropologists well into the 1960s,[23] although this was occurring only among relatively isolated communities. The Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic appeared in 1924, and the Tajik Soviet Socialist Republic followed in 1929. The latter had held the status of an “Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic” from 1924 until its elevation to full-union status. Thus, both an Uzbek and a Tajik ethnie had been territorialized and assigned a homeland only a handful of years after the promulgation of the first Soviet Constitution in 1922. The creation of ethno-national entities magnified perceptions among the Central Asian elites that indeed, two distinct identities had emerged, although some persisted in arguing that Uzbeks were simply “Turkified Persians,” or Tajiks were “Iranianized Turks.” The assignation of homelands to identities that had not previously been territorialized made little sense unless it could be “proven” that the two peoples had in fact developed along separate historical and cultural paths. Tracing out the ethnogenesis of the Uzbeks and Tajiks would therefore occupy a good deal of the time of scholars in both republics throughout the Soviet period. The process would prove to be contentious and remains so, leading to the “discursive discourses” referenced earlier. In the wake of the establishment of the titular republics in Central Asia, Uzbek and Tajik historians immediately diverged on the specific principle that was to serve as the basis for distinctive national identities. Uzbek scholars held that Tajik identity could not be based on a so-called “ethnic principle,” but rather should be linked to the “territorial principle,” meaning that Tajik identity was not to be associated with the broader space of Central Asia, but limited only to the dimensions of the newly formed Tajik SSR. Defining distinct identities between the two groups was made more problematic by the fact that a hybrid identity with both sedentary Turkic and Iranian antecedents, the so-called “Sarts,” had existed in the urban areas of Central Asia for at least a millennium. Until the 1970s, official Soviet sources suggested that the origins of both Uzbeks and Tajiks extended to the time of the Sogdian empire.[24] The Tajiks found it necessary to respond to what many among the Tajik intelligentsia viewed as Turkic chauvinism and dominance. The greatest of the Tajik writers of the early Soviet period, Sadriddin Aini, held that forebears of the Tajiks had heroically resisted the aggression of waves of barbaric Turkic nomads, an early claim of cultural and historical superiority that continues in the current debate.[25] It must

also be pointed out that the Tajik population was much smaller than the Uzbek (as remains the case today), and moreover Tajik intellectuals were reacting to the PanTurkic movement that had numerous advocates among the Turkic-speaking elites in Central Asia, prior to the Bolshevik Revolution. The fact that the Tajiks were greatly outnumbered undoubtedly contributed to anxiety regarding their future along with what they perceived to be encroachment, both physically and culturally, by the Turkic groups surrounding them in the Soviet Union. The historiographical paradigms offered by both Uzbek and Tajik scholars were firmly anchored in an ethno-symbolic framework, and both states attempted to craft an officially sanctioned national narrative. These national myths promulgated in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan today, although it is rarely acknowledged by those articulating and promoting them, share much with Soviet approaches to ethnogenesis. Moreover, conflict over the “proper” philosophical basis of national identity for each people dates to the early decades of Soviet aegis in Central Asia, in the wake of the division of the region into constituent ethnic republics. Through the Soviet period, scholars from both sides attempted to clarify the patterns and processes of ethnogenesis that legitimized their respective identities. For example, in June of 1936 specialists from both sides met in Dushanbe to sort out the appropriate approach to the writing of Tajik history. Uzbek historians held that the articulation of Tajik history must be restricted to the spatial parameters of the newly created republic, that is, Tajik identity could only be recognized within the geographic confines of the territory directly and officially associated with it. Thus, the attributes of Tajik identity would be neatly packaged within the boundaries of “Tajik” territory. The “ethnic principle” was unacceptable to the Uzbek specialists, since it presented the potential by Tajik scholars of expanding claims of Tajik ethnogenesis to territory within the Uzbek SSR, primarily the cities of Bukhara and Samarkand.[26] On the Uzbek side, the mythomoteur of ethnogenesis shifted significantly across the decades of Soviet rule. Interestingly, the Shaybanids, the first group to use the ethnonym “Uzbek” as a collective identifier and to be linked to this name by outsiders, were never accepted as the progenitors of the Uzbek ethnie by Soviet-era Uzbek scholars.[27] Claims to this effect, made frequently by Western scholars of the region, were condemned as inaccurate and driven by pernicious bourgeois motivations. Edward Allworth, as well as other scholars, made a compelling case for the Shaybanids as the foundation of Ozbekchilik (Uzbekness), but Soviet sources had rejected this argument decades earlier.[28] Interestingly, the official history of the Uzbeks published in the 1960s categorically stated that it was not the nomadic Shaybanids who represented the wellspring of Uzbek identity, but rather the urbanized denizens of the ancient Sogdian empire.[29] The official account failed to note that the Sogdians spoke an Eastern Iranian dialect related to Middle Persian rather than a Turkic language, and never utilized the self-reference “Uzbek,” nor did external writers refer to them using this term. The Shaybanids were so thoroughly discredited that Uzbek scholars in the post-Soviet period have mistakenly believed

that those promoting an ethnogenesis through the Shaybanids are offering a “new reference point for Uzbek ethnic identity formation.”[30] The process of ethnogenesis was especially important to those articulating Uzbek national emergence in the context of the longue duree. If “Uzbeks” had resided on the territory of the Uzbek SSR from ancient times, then this presence must be “historicized,” in the terminology of Graham Smith,[31] a notion identical to Armstrong’s mythomoteur. Allworth puts it succinctly: Ethnogenesis mainly analyzed and explained people occupying a given piece of territory. . . . To validate the scheme, “land of Uzbeks,” (Uzbekistan) had to exist from time immemorial. Presumably, the multitudes of people whose lives could have touched that territory . . . contributed to the makeup of the eponymous ethnic group that occupied it. . . . Russian scholars were obliged to say that the people from whom the Uzbeks mainly derived . . . were ‘the whole Turkic population’ of what later became Uzbekistan. . . . [The] arbitrary exclusion of the considerable Iranian component . . . seemed to undermine [the] explanation for Uzbek ethnogenesis.[32] Some scholars early in the Soviet period questioned whether “Uzbek” had any functional value as a national identity,[33] but by the late 1930s Uzbek historians and ethnographers were actively presenting the early framework and symbols of the Uzbek national myth. Evidently the Shaybanids were denied a role in this process because their relatively recent arrival in the region in the sixteenth century would undermine Uzbek autochthonous claims to the homeland. A more ancient origin for Uzbek national identity was necessary, and appeared in the writings of Alexander Yakubovskii, a prominent historian and member of the Uzbek SSR Academy of Sciences. Yakubovskii’s opus, entitled in English translation “On the Question of the Ethnogenesis of the Uzbek People,” appeared in 1941.[34] Yakubovskii postulated that the origins of the Uzbek ethnie in fact could be found in the Karakhanid Empire of the tenth century, thus placing the “Uzbeks” in Central Asia half a millennium prior to the appearance of Shaybani Khan and the nomadic warriors Persian historians called “Uzbeks.” The Karakhanids were without question Turkic and had occupied Bukhara and other cities in the homeland, but a potentially vexing problem with this theory was that no writer from the Karakhanid period ever used this ethnonym in any document. Yakubovskii dealt with this matter by contending that collective identity could emerge before a group self-identified under a unified name. Dramatic shifts in the historiography and cultural foundation of Ozbekchilik continued through the Soviet period, as formerly vilified historical figures were identified as “Uzbek,” or at least became conflated with the “Uzbek” mythomoteur. The two most prominent, Mir Alisher Navoi and Amir Timur (Tamerlane), continue as symbols of an heroic “Uzbek” golden age in independent Uzbekistan. At precisely the same time Yakubovskii was anchoring the foundations of Uzbek identity in the

Karakhanid era, Navoi was officially heralded as the “Father of Uzbek Literature.”[35] The incongruous, confusing and ahistorical nature of these claims did not deter those promoting them—that the Karakhanids reigned in the tenth century, and Navoi did not sire an “Uzbek” literary tradition until the fifteenth was of little concern to Uzbek historians. Navoi’s elevation to the pantheon of “Uzbek” luminaries was made more facile by declaring that Chagatay, the Turkic literary language favored by Navoi and other Timurid writers, was in fact “Old Uzbek.”[36] This linguistically questionable linkage was, like chronological distortions in the nascent myth, was accepted without critical evaluation. Timur had been viewed as brutal and feudalistic by Soviet scholars during the 1920s and 1930s, and his place in Uzbek history was tightly linked to the alleged depredations and feudal tendencies of the Mongols. Yakubovskii in the 1940s discovered that this interpretation of Timur was simplistic, and that indeed the great conqueror had been viewed by Karl Marx as a reformer, and his rule was more benign than those who preceded him, that is, Mongol overlords.[37] This re-evaluation of Timur’s place in Uzbekistan’s history and national identity continued to gradually evolve in the late Soviet period, and by the late 1970s Timur was viewed more positively.[38] Timur’s incorporation along with his Timurid descendants into the Uzbek mythomoteur finalized the exclusion of the Shaybanids, since it was Shaybani Khan himself who ended Timurid rule in Central Asia, and including both as founding heros could not work, even within the convoluted plot of Uzbek ethnogenesis. In the 1970s the Uzbek mythomoteur experienced yet another major revision, as Uzbek scholars determined that in fact the Karakhanids were inadequate, and pushed the autochthony of the Uzbek ethnie back another three centuries to the Karluk tribe, a Turkic people who settled parts of the Fergana Valley in the early eighth century. This theory of ethnogenesis was advanced by Karim Shaniazov, who Marlene Laruelle aptly describes as the most influential ethnographer in Uzbekistan between the years of 1970 and his death in 2000.[39] Shaniazov’s theories also held that a Turkic culture existed in Central Asia prior to the advent of Iranian settlement and suggested that Sogdians, Scythians, and other peoples had in fact been Turkic peoples who were assimilated by Persian-speaking invaders.[40] The era of glasnost’ allowed for a more open debate regarding Shaniazov’s positions and those of other Uzbek ethnographers as Tajik scholars openly challenged what they viewed as hegemonic distortions by Uzbek historians, designed to undermine Tajik identity.[41] Tajik scholars drew upon the seminal Soviet-era work defining the Tajik approach to longue duree, Bobojon Gafurov’s exhaustive account originally published in 1970, entitled The Tajiks: Archaic, Ancient and Medieval History.[42] Tajik intellectuals virtually universally acclaimed Gafurov’s book a tour de force, notable for the author’s reliance on physical evidence of the antiquity of the Tajik presence in Central Asia. Gafurov’s effort, at least from the perspective of its Tajik admirers, ineluctably connected the antecedents of a definable Tajik civilization to the spatial concept of an ancestral homeland in the heart of Central Asia. The work emerged as the standard

reference for those championing the notion that Iranian culture had pre-dated Turkic in the region. While not particularly well-received by Uzbek historians, Gafurov’s account did not generate the level of condemnatory invective from Uzbekistan that the works of some of his successors would spark.

UZBEK AND TAJIK NATIONAL DISCOURSES AFTER INDEPENDENCE Soviet collapse and unexpected independence led to state-sponsored efforts by both administrations to crystallize and rationalize the raison d’etre of the national myth of origin, frequently exemplified by monumental productions. The Uzbek Academy of Sciences in 2000 commissioned The History of Statehood of Uzbekistan, a series of tomes purporting to trace the longue duree of the Uzbek ethnie to the prehistoric era in Central Asia, and pre-dating the arrival of Iranian (Tajik) elements.[43] Even a decade after independence, and almost eighty years after the Uzbek homeland was territorialized, the central question that continued to plague Uzbek historiography was centered on the ethnie’s autochthony in the region. The Uzbek historical narrative serves as etiological myth, amplifying the official ideological discourse and reifying the “national idea.”[44] In independent Uzbekistan, the transformation of Timur symbolically into an “Uzbek” hero is complete, as his visage stares down from colossal monuments, and is found on the country’s coinage and in the museum dedicated exclusively to him in downtown Tashkent, constructed in 1998. Islom Karimov, the president of Uzbekistan, has publicly lavished praise on Amir Timur, decrying his previous denigration as a “second Genghis Khan,” and offering a virtual paean: “A man cannot be a creator and a barbarian simultaneously. . . . A man who can recite the Koran from memory cannot be a barbarian. Can [a villain] craft such a wise saying as “The strength is in justice?”[45] Uzbek academicians took the hint, and histories produced in the postSoviet era uniformly present a kinder, gentler Timur, including school textbooks.[46] The sociologist Laura Adams has argued that Karimov’s endorsement of Timur is actually the construction of a cult of personality by proxy.[47] Andrew March contends that the invoking of Timur’s legacy is an “abuse of history” that Karimov wields as an instrument not only of identity construction, but also to secure his own political agenda and justify his authoritarianism: This use of Tamerlane succinctly combines not only anachronism (fatherland) and speculation . . . not only to identify himself with a world-historical figure, but to do so by making a point highly conducive to the regime’s purposes: the decontestation of “constructive, noble ideas” as the construction of a strong, centralized state. This is the true value of the Tamerlane myth in post-Soviet Uzbekistan: Not only is it the rehabilitation of a national hero in the attempt to inspire national pride and invent a national history after a long period of

colonization, but it is the deliberate elevation of values associated with . . . a political order achieved through the manipulation of an untouchable symbol.[48] Similarly, for Tajik commentators, both within and external to academic circles, the main concern of historical study remains the ethnogenesis of the Tajik people, connected to the “golden age” of the Samanid period, rooted in the historical constructs of Aryanism and pan-Iranianism.[49] Like Karimov in Uzbekistan, the Tajik President, Emomali Rakhmonov, rather than wait for the dilatory Tajik academy to take up the baton, published his own historical pamphlet in 1997 entitled The Tajiks in the Mirror of History. Rakhmonov argues that the Tajiks achieved the heights of sovereign statehood long before the arrival of the Mongols in Central Asia, and in fact are the successors to an Aryan tradition reaching at least to the Samanid Dynasty. In a thinly veiled reference to the work of Uzbek writers (and likely to Islom Karimov himself), Rakhmonov refers to “enemies” who seek to deny the Tajik people their identity and rightful place in Central Asian history.[50] In the 1990s the Tajik scholar Rahim Masov published the first two volumes of an historical trilogy, attacking the outcomes of the delimitation of the Central Asian republics. Masov, not mincing words, entitled the work History of a Crude Division, arguing that although the separation of Central Asia into ethnic homelands was an historical necessity, the process had been hijacked by pan-Turkic chauvinists, who methodically denigrated Tajik identity and actively worked to physically isolate the Tajik people, or when possible, assimilate them into the dominant Turkic (i.e., Uzbek) cultural milieu.[51] Indeed, according to Masov, the Uzbeks and their allies had vigorously worked to destroy Tajik national identity from the inception of the Soviet Union in the 1920s. Moreover, those committed to this nefarious goal had managed to alter the geographical and political conditions that should have held sway in 1924: a Tajik SSR should have been created that contained an Uzbek ASSR, rather than the reverse. Masov’s most controversial claim was that the proponents of “pan-Turkism” had engaged in a program of cultural “genocide” against his people, deliberately attempting to erase their ethnic distinctiveness, historical presence, and appropriate Tajik cultural achievements.[52] The charge of genocide struck a nerve not only among the Uzbek intelligentsia, but also among government authorities, and shortly after its publication, Masov’s book was officially banned by the Uzbek government. The Rakhmonov regime’s announcement in 2001, declaring that 2006 would be recognized as the “Year of the Aryan Civilization,” triggered another round of intense academic debate, marked by increasingly strident nationalist rhetoric. Uzbek scholars produced a spate of responses obviously intended to undermine the Tajik linkage to Aryanism and the Samanids before this could be officially sanctified, and accused the Tajiks of racism and chauvinism. In 2003 an Uzbek scholar branded attempts to link Aryan culture to modern Tajik identity as racist, linking the theory to Nazi notions of racial superiority.[53] This was followed the next year by the publication of The Downfall of the Samanids [Krushenie Samanidov] by the Uzbek historian Goga

Hidoyatov. Hidoyatov rejected outright any connection between Persian and modern Tajik culture, holding for example, that the concept of “Tajik-Persian literature” was a non sequitur and that Persian literati such as Rudaki, Firdawsi, Omar Khayyam, Jami, and others had no relation to classic Tajik literature.[54] Uzbek historians have even attempted to usurp the Tajik claim to Aryan origins and adopt this mantle for Uzbek ethnogenesis. The Uzbek scholar Ahmadali Askarov has argued in a revisionist piece that in fact it is Uzbekistan that may rightfully claim the Aryans as a component of the Uzbek ethnie. Askarov, clearly responding directly to the charges leveled by Masov, accuses Tajik discourse of following a “pan-Iranist path,” proposes that the Achaemenid empire was in reality a Turkic civilization before conversion to Persian culture, and holds that the Aryans did not speak an IndoEuropean language, but rather were Turks who were later assimilated by Iranian groups.[55] Askarov suggests that a review of archeological evidence supports his “new approach” to the “Aryan problem,” but few scholars outside of Uzbekistan accept his argument. As might be expected, Askarov’s work evoked a heated response from the Tajik intelligentsia, both in the academic literature and on various Internet sites.

CONCLUSION The “historiographic war” (this is Suyarkulova’s phrase) currently raging between academics in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan is of course an extension of the political friction between the two states, as well as the personal rivalry between Islom Karimov and Emomali Rakhmonov. But there a more fundamental issue at stake in this conflict, beyond the overt jockeying of the political leadership directed at legitimizing the identity-building strategies each has employed since independence. To again use the jargon of post-modernism, each state is “othering” its rival as it attempts to develop the symbolic capital required to construct a national ideology based on an ethno-symbolic framework. All national ideologies engage in this process to a certain degree, as it is necessary to separate the basis of identity from competitors while carving out a unique historical niche for identity to support the basis of longue duree, substantiate mythomoteurs, and inculcate national myth. In the case of the Tajiks and Uzbeks, the process has been made both more complex and competitive for several reasons. The differing philosophical positions concerning the basis for national identity, dating to the natsional’noe razmezhevanie in Central Asia, still stand as the rationale underlying conflicting historical myths. From the Tajik side, anchoring identity in Aryanism and the Samanid era serves several purposes. First, this can be used to draw a clear linkage to a distinctive European heritage via Farsi/Tajik linguistic characteristics. Secondly, the “Aryan connection” places the Tajik ethnie much earlier in Central Asia than any proto-Turkic/Uzbek presence. Uzbek commentators recognize the challenges this inherently presents to their efforts to secure their own myth of antiquity in the region, and thus have attempted to subvert and even integrate the Tajik myth.

Finally, Aryanism provides the fundament for historical notions of a “Greater Tajikistan” with its concomitant suggestions, sometimes implied and sometimes overt, of the necessity to reconfigure the “crude divisions” wrought by Soviet authorities, especially in regard to those regions of Uzbekistan where Tajiks predominate. From the Uzbek side, it is apparent that the Karimov regime recognizes the necessity of imposing the conceptual tropes of the longue duree, mythomoteur, and a “golden age” inculcated through an inescapable public culture, although of course, it may not address the process in these terms. The Karimov regime utilizes a legitimized violence that directs the population to a revised concept of national identity. This is achieved by controlling the educational and academic spheres of society, and by establishing an iconic, pervasive presence of the mythomoteur that is engaged on a daily basis. Moreover, the achievement of independence for the “Uzbek” nation, within its associated sacralized borders, confirms the continuity of an ages-long drive that is historically inevitable. This has two advantages from the perspective of the Karimov regime. First, it authenticates the spatial parameters of Ozbekchilik, not a small matter in a state where the inhabitants of several large cities speak Tajik as their first language, and where the largest regional subunit, the Karakalpak Autonomous Region, represents an alternative, if not competing, ethnic consciousness. Secondly, it allows the regime to draw a direct line of descent to its historical antecedents (at least those claimed to be of ancient provenance), equating the glory of the past to the promise of the future. “Identity theft” is a serious transgression, especially when committed at the level of national identity. But such a violation is also difficult to prosecute, especially when it is unclear who is the thief and who is the victim. Yet challenges to the distinctiveness and validity of the identity must be answered, because: Nations and national identity cannot be taken for granted. Although national identity may have roots in a distant past or in commonalities of language and faith, it is something that is formed and negotiated within the structure of the world as it exists today . . . It is protean enough to construct itself from other sources of identity and other points of grievance . . . but there is nothing hard and fast about the endurance of national identity. . . . There is no reason why future touchstones of identity might not become increasingly manifold, so that our monogamous relationship to nation will splinter.[56] The dispute over “dueling identities” is perhaps inevitable between Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, as the geographical reality of Soviet disintegration, bringing with it the established boundaries of territorialized ethnonyms, forces each side to accentuate historical, cultural, and even physical distinguishing characteristics that differentiate it from its rival. This process is radicalized by the historical symbiotic relationship between Uzbeks and Tajiks in Central Asia, who as late as the 1960s were described in Soviet sources as being no more than “two great branches of a single tree.”[57] The overlapping cultural, historical, and physical boundaries of the two ethnie make the

divorce contentious, as each uses similar, and in some cases identical symbols to reinforce its mythomoteur and identity. The fact that each new state seemingly views identity construction as a “zero sum” process does not bode well for mutual relations, nor for the future stability of the broader region.

NOTES 1. John Breuilly, “The Sources of Nationalist Ideology,” in Nationalism, eds. J. Hutchinson and A. D. Smith, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 104–5. 2. Peter J. Burke and Jan E. Stets, Identity Theory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 35. 3. Sheldon Stryker and Keven D. Vryan, “The Symbolic Interactionist Frame,” in The Handbook of Social Psychology, ed. J. DeLamater (New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum, 2003), 22. 4. Michael Billig, Banal Nationalism, (New York: Sage Publications, 1995). 5. I am aware that Sarte or Lacan is generally credited with originating the concept of the “Other” as it is approached by postmodern scholars, but Foucault, perhaps along with Edward Said, is most frequently associated in the literature with the concept, as well as the term. 6. Anthony W. Marx, “The Nation-State and Its Exclusions,” Political Science Quarterly, Vol. 117, No. 1 (Spring, 2002), 106. 7. Marx, “The Nation-State and Its Exclusions,” 107. 8. See Fredrik Barth, ed., Ethnic Groups and Boundaries (Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1969). 9. I have previously mentioned some of the most prominent members of the modernist school. Certainly, Gellner, Anderson, and Hobsbawm are considered among the most influential thinkers in this group. See Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1983) and Encounters with Nationalism (Cambridge, Mass. and London: Blackwell Publishers, 1994); Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1983); Eric Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism Since 1780 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). Leading lights who fall under the umbrella of “primordialists” and their seminal studies would include Clifford Geertz, “Primordial Ties,” in Ethnicity, ed. A. D. Smith (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996); Adrian Hastings, The Construction of Nationhood: Ethnicity, Religion and Nationalism (New York and London: Cambridge University Press, 1997); and Edward Shils, “Primordial, Personal, Sacred and Civil Ties,” British Journal of Sociology, Vol. 8, No. 2 (1957). 10. Liah Greenfeld, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992). 11. Anthony D. Smith, Ethno-Symbolism and Nationalism. A Cultural Approach (London and New York: Routledge, 2009), 82. 12. David Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 1985). 13. John Armstrong, Nations Before Nationalism (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1982), 12–14. 14. Anthony D. Smith, Myths and Memories of the Nation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 13. 15. Anthony D. Smith, Ethno-Symbolism and Nationalism. A Cultural Approach (London and New York: Routledge, 2009), 82. 16. For a fascinating presentation of the relationship between landscape and identity, see David Lowenthal, “European and English Landscapes as National Symbols,” in Geography and National Identity, ed. D. Hooson (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1994). 17. I am making no judgments with this observation as to the value or legitimacy of the claim. A quick read of Theodor Herzl’s Der Judenstaat, the work generally credited with initiating the drive to territorialize Jewish national identity in the modern era, will confirm the analysis. 18. Mohira Suyarkulova, “Statehood as Dialogue: Conflicting Historical Narratives of Tajikistan and Uzbekistan,” in The Transformation of Tajikistan: the Sources of Statehood, eds. J. Heathershaw and E. Herzig. (London: Routledge, 2013), 163–65. Although she is not concerned to any degree with the theoretical foundation of identity in these states, her analysis is very much anchored in ethnosymbolism. 19. Ivan Ivanovich Zarubin, Spisok narodnostei turkestanskogo kraia [A listing of the peoples of the Turkestan kray] (Leningrad: Rossiiskaia Akademiia Nauk, Trudy Komissii po Izucheniiu Plemennogo Sostava Naselenia Rossii i Sopredelnikh Stran, 1925), 16. 20. During the Soviet period, almost all Western specialists on Central Asia agreed that the division of the region into national republics was premature, and could only be explained as a policy of “divide and conquer,” designed to alleviate Moscow’s concerns over pan-Turkic and pan-Islamic tendencies among the intelligentsia. I continue to subscribe to this view, but for a counter argument, see Francine Hirsch, “Toward an Empire of Nations: Border-Making and the Formation of Soviet National Identities,” The Russian Review, 59 (April 2000); and Yuri Slezkine, “The USSR as a Communal Apartment, or How a Socialist State Promoted Ethnic Particularism,” Slavic Review, Vol. 53. No. 2 (Summer 1994). 21. Maria Eva Subtelny, “Symbiosis of Turk and Tajik,” in Central Asia in Historical Perspective, ed. Beatrice F. Manz (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994), 45–61. One might suspect that many Tajiks would not accept the conclusion that the relationship is symbiotic, but rather parasitic. 22. V.V. Barthold, Sochineniia [Essays] (Moscow: Izdatelstvo vostochnoi literaturi, Vol. 2, 1963–1977. 23. See Gerhard Doerfer, Turkische Lehnworter im Tadschikischen [Turkic Loan words in Tajik] (Weisbaden: Franz Steiner Publishers, 1967). 24. M. Vakhabov, Formirovannie uzbekskoi sotstialisticheskoi natsiia [The Formation of the Uzbek Socialist People] (Tashkent: “Fan,” 1961), 21; and Istoria Uzbekskoi

SSR [History of the Uzbek SSR], Vol. 1 (Tashkent: “Fan,” 1967), passim. 25. Quoted in Muriel Atkin, “Religious, National and Other Identities in Central Asia,” in Muslims in Central Asia: Expressions of Identity and Change, ed. Jo-Ann Gross (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1992), 53. It is interesting that Aini’s comments appeared, as Atkin notes, originally in an obscure publication, but were reprinted in a leading Tajik-language journal in 1986 after the imposition of Mikhail Gorbachev’s glasnost policy. 26. G. Ashurov, “Ideinaiia borba vokrug knigi akademika B.G. Gafurova ‘Tajiki’,” Merosi Niyogon No. 6, 75. 27. John Schoeberlein-Engel, Identity in Central Asia: Construction and Contention in the conceptions of “Ozbek,” “Muslim,” “Samarquandi,” and other groups. Doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, 1994, 61-64. The appellation of “Uzbek” was widely applied in the chronicles of Timurid and Persian historians when referring to the nomadic Turkic confederation led by Shaybani Khan, which evidently coalesced in the region between the Aral and Caspian Seas in the early 1500s. 28. Edward Allworth, The Uzbeks (Stanford, California: Hoover Institution Press, 1990). 29. Istoriia Uzbekskoi SSR [History of the Uzbek SSR] (Tashkent: “FAN,” 1967). 30. P. Shozimov, “Rethinking the Symbolic Scope of Uzbek Identity,” Anthropology and Archeology of Eurasia, Vol. 44, No. 4, 48. 31. Graham Smith, “Post-Colonialism and Borderland Identities,” in Nation Building in the Post-Soviet Borderlands. The Politics of National Identities, ed. G. Smith, V. Law, et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 15. 32. Edward Allworth, The Uzbeks (Stanford, California: Hoover Institution Press, 1990). 33. See Evgenii Polivanov, Etnograficheskaia kharakteristika uzbekov [Ethnographic Characteristics of the Uzbeks] (Tashkent: Uzbekskoe Gosudarstvennoe Izdatelstvo , 1926). Polivanov’s view did not support the official ideology concerning the question of Uzbek identity, and he does not appear to have published any further work. 34. Alexander Iakubovskii, K voprosu ob etnogeneze uzbekskogo naroda (Tashkent: Izdatelstvo “FAN,” 1941). 35. A. Abdurahmanov, et al., Rodonachalnik uzbekskoi literatury. Sbornik statei ob Alishere Navoi [The procreator of Uzbek literature. A handbook of articles about Alisher Navoi] (Tashkent: “FAN,” 1940). This work was still being assigned as the primary reading in Uzbek literature courses in a number of universities in the early 1990s. 36. Modern literary Uzbek was not standardized until after the creation of the Uzbek SSR in 1924, and was based upon the dialect spoken in Tashkent. Edward Allworth has argued that in fact the connection between literary Chagatay and standardized Uzbek is tenuous. See E. Allworth, Uzbek Literary Politics (The Hague: Mouton, 1964). 37. Alexander Iakubovskii, “Timur: opyt kratkoi kharakteristiki” [Timur: research on brief characteristics], Voprosi istorii, 8/9, 1946, 70–72.

38. A. Novoseltsev, “Ob istoricheskoi otsenke Timura” [On the historical assessment of Timur], Voprosy istorii, No. 2, 1973. 39. Marlene Laruelle, “National Narrative, Ethnology, and Academia in Post-Soviet Uzbekistan,” Journal of Eurasian Studies, 1 (2010), 105–7. Laruelle also provides in this piece a detailed description of the controversy surrounding the Soros-sponsored Ethnic Atlas of Uzbekistan. The publication of the atlas in 2002 elicited a prolonged backlash from Uzbek scholars, who strongly rejected the work, contending that the entry on the Uzbeks in particular was fallacious and biased. 40. Karim Shaniazov, Kang davlat va kanglilar [The Kang state and the Kang people] (Tashkent: “FAN,” 1990). 41. James Critchlow, “Tajik Scholar Describes a Source of Ethnic Discontent,” Report on the USSR, Vol. 2, No. 8, (1990), 19; Ann Sheehy, “Tajik Party First Secretary Addresses Concerns of Local Intelligentsia,” Report on the USSR, Vol. 1, No.3 (1989), 22. 42. Bobojon Gafurov, Tadzhiki: Dreveneishaia, drevniaia i srednevekovaia istoria (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1989). 43. Dilnara Alimova, and E. Rtveladze, eds., Ocherki po istorii gosudarstvennosti Uzbekistana (Tashkent: “Sharq,” 2001), 5–7. 44. Ibid., 3. 45. Islom Karimov, Tarixiy xotirasiz kelajak yoq [There is no future without historical memory]. (Tashkent: Sharq, 1998), 16. 46. N. Djuraev and T. Fayzullaev. Istoriia Uzbekistana: period natsional’noi nezavisimosti (uchebnik dla uchashchikhsia 11 klassov obschheobrazovatel’nykh shkol) [The history of Uzbekistan in the period of national independence (a textbook for students at the eleventh grade)], (Tashkent: Sharq, 2002), passim; Dilnara Alimova and E. Rtveladze, editors. Ocherki po istorii gosudarstvennosti Uzbekistana (Tashkent: “Sharq,” 2001). 47. Adams, Laura. The Spectacular State: Culture and National Identity in Uzbekistan. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2010. 48. Andrew March. “The Use and Abuse of History: ‘National Ideology’ as Transcendental Object in Islam Karimov’s ‘Ideology of National Independence,’” Central Asian Survey, Vol. 21, No. 4, (2002), 375–76. 49. Kirill Nourzhanov, “Chasing an Ephemeral Bloc: Discourses of Pan-Iranian Alignment in Tajikistan,” unpublished paper presented at the Third Global International Studies Conference (WISC 2011), Oporto, Portugal, August 17, 2011. 50. Emomali Rakhmonov, Tadzhiki v zerkale istorii (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1997), 46–47. 51. Rahim Masov, Istoriia topornogo razdeleniia (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1991). 52. Ibid., 11. 53. A. Gershenzon, “Ariiskaia mifologiia i Tsentral’naia Aziia” [Aryan mythology in Central Asia], available at www.centrasia.ru/newsA.phpst=1063811340. 54. Goga Hidoyatov, Krushenie Samanidov, (Tashkent: “Sharq,” 2004). 55. Ahmadli Askarov, “Ariiskaiya problema: novye podkhody i vzgliady” [The Aryan problem: new approaches and points of view] Istoriia Uzbekistana v

arkheologicheskykh i pis’mennykh istochnikakh (Tashkent: “Fan,” 2005). 56. David Kaplan, “Territorial Identities and Geographic Scale,” in Nested Identities. Nationalism, Territory and Scale, eds. G. Herb and D. Kaplan (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 1999), 45–46. 57. Maria Eva Subtelny, “Symbiosis of Turk and Tajik,” in Central Asia in Historical Perspective, ed. Beatrice F. Manz, (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1994), 53.

Chapter 8

Exclusivist Identities in Central Asia Galym Zhussipbek Implications for Regional Stability and Cooperation On June 10, 2010, a violent crisis broke out in the Fergana valley, southern Kyrgyzstan, resulting in massive property destruction, a death toll ranging from three hundred to over six hundred, and a stampede of displaced persons. The ethnic clashes involved two communities—Kyrgyz and Uzbek—practicing the same religion, speaking similar languages, and sharing cultural and historical experiences. In the neighboring Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, Uzbeks and Tajiks, who have lived for centuries in the intermingled communities, began showing signs of alienation toward each other. Outside their homeland, the Central Asian migrant workers and students have staged occasional fights with representatives of other Central Asian ethnicities. These interethnic tensions inside and outside Central Asia have been compounded by the emergence of religious fundamentalists and radical secularists across the region that added new cleavages and points of disagreement across and within Central Asian ethnic communities. This chapter focuses on ideological sources of inter-ethnic frictions in Central Asia and examines their impact on regional cooperation and stability. First, it shows how the Central Asian political and intellectual elites have adopted exclusivist discourses of national identity premised on primordial understanding of nation and ethnicity. These exclusivist identities have been constructed in reaction and even opposition to the identities of neighboring others. As a result conflicts have emerged over the legitimacy of narratives and myths that make up the national identities of states in Central Asia. Second, the Central Asian version of orientalism has become the ideational force for exclusivist identities. The Central Asian orientalism is defined by the claims to autochthony, that is, supposedly pre-historical roots of the modern populations and their connection to the “homeland,” and appeals to cultural superiority of one ethnic group and the nation that this group epitomizes over the neighboring Central Asian nations. These claims are reproduced by a number of (pseudo-) academic publications and textbooks, and furthered in political agendas of incumbent regimes. In the most extreme cases, these intensive orientalist discourses dehumanize the others, thus contributing to incidents of inter-communal violence. Third, the Central Asian orientalism is a product of Soviet social engineering and combative atheism. Together with rigid planning, collectivization, and centralized regulation, these policies led to a considerable erosion of classic sedentary and nomadic Central Asian society, which kept Central Asians united within shared communities. At the same time, a common geographical and political space secured their cultural and linguistic differences and offered immunity against serious intercommunal tensions. Ultimately, the establishment of exclusivist identities and

subsequent difficulties with fostering civic nationalism empowered by passive secularism has become a root source of inter-ethnic and inter-state problems. These same exclusivist national identities continue positing a formidable challenge to regional integration and security in Central Asia. I begin this chapter by discussing the exclusivist identities in Central Asia and analyzing their roots in the phenomenon of Central Asian orientalism. Next, the chapter illuminates the mechanisms and driving forces for building exclusivist identities in the region. It also touches on the role of instrumentalization of Islam in generating exclusivist identities. Finally, the chapter explores the impact of exclusivist identities on cooperation and security in the region. This study is an example of experiential research, a new research paradigm that breaks down the traditional distinction between the role of the researcher and the role of the subject of investigation. “In the new paradigm, this separation of roles is dissolved. Those involved in the research are co-researchers and co-subjects. They devise, manage, and draw conclusions from the research; and they also undergo the experiences and perform the actions that are being researched.”[1] In line with this new paradigm, I researched the complexity of processes taking place in Central Asia not as an external observer, but as a person “experiencing them.” The conclusions of this chapter are derived from personal communications with the Central Asian people of different ethnic and social backgrounds (including students, ordinary people, scholars, and immigrants living outside the region) supplemented with interviews of experts on Central Asian politics and societies. I also carried out content analysis of the textbooks and academic and pseudo-academic publications published in Central Asia with the goal of shaping people’s perceptions of their national histories.

CENTRAL ASIAN EXCLUSIVIST IDENTITIES AND ORIENTALISM To simplify their perception of complex phenomena, people resort to categorization. Individuals, groups, objects, and processes get ascribed to pre-formed categories that guide individuals’ judgments and help them make sense of the world. In the context of post-Soviet Central Asia, ethnicity and language have become the primary categorization criteria for people. A hangover of the Soviet time, the primordialist approach to nation and ethnicity that treats them as objective entities with inherent features such as territory, language, and religion continues weighing heavily on nation building processes in the Central Asian region. For instance, the following categorization (identification) patterns became part of life in Central Asia: Russianspeaking vs. native language-speaking, (prosperous) Kazakhs vs. (losers) others; “shala-Kazakh” (who don’t know the language or many of the Kazakh traditions) vs. “nagyz Kazakh” (who speaks the language fluently and is considered to be “authentic” Kazakh); (descendants of Amir Timur) Uzbeks vs. others; (descendants of Manas) Kyrgyz vs. others; (of Aryan origin) Tajiks vs. others (Turkic nomads); (descendants of Ogyz Khan, 5,000-year-old nation) Turkmens vs. others; and Kyrgyz vs. Uzbek.

The main problem with these kinds of categorizations is that they serve more than a “sense-making” purpose. Rather, a particular category representing the other is ethnically determined and homogenized. It is also presented as a comprehensive category, which becomes essentialized through discourse and concomitant practice. The systematic and deliberate process of “othering” of those who are not part of “ingroup” or “we-group” is known as orientalism.[2] In its original meaning, the term was used by Edward Said and post-colonial scholars—Anouar Abdel Malek and Ziauddin Sardar, among others—to critique Western science and its patronizing and negative, if fictionalized, perception of the outside world, especially the so-called oriental (eastern) societies.[3] Recently, a number of scholars began using this concept in relation to the “oriental” (non-Western) societies themselves, and their perceptions of others and their own selves. This diffusion of orientalistic thinking became a byproduct of modernization and westernization of non-Western societies, which embraced some of the orientalistic patterns. In Central Asia, the modernization of traditional societies with the concomitant destruction of the classic sedentary and nomadic lifestyles occurred under the Soviet regime. The Central Asian orientalism, which is an ideational force for building exclusivist identities, is, therefore, a direct result of Soviet policies and powerful evidence of the considerable erosion of the Central Asian traditional civilization. The discursive construction of negative and homogenous identities of others can be witnessed across Central Asia. This process, which builds upon the described patterns of categorization (identification), is consistent with the classical definition of orientalism. For instance, more affluent Kazakhs, especially those who have made their fortunes in state and private business, orientalize other Central Asians who endure economic hardships and perform unqualified work as “inferior, unskilled, and non-progressive.” Uzbeks orientalize Kazakhs and Kyrgyz, who are perceived as both more Russified and more nomadic, as “inferior, carefree, and lazy.” Russians and other Russian-speaking groups tend to orientalize other Central Asians as “inferior, archaic, backward and undeveloped.” Some Uzbeks orientalize other Turkic ethnicities by claiming their central place in Turkic history. These claims are grounded in the historical interpretations presenting Uzbeks as “aristocrats of all Turkic nations.”[4] On the other hand, some Tajiks appropriated the role of “providing civilization and sciences to the Turkic-speaking nomadic tribes” for themselves and began orientalizing other Central Asians of Turkic origin.[5] Still, many Kyrgyz and Tajiks believe in the uniqueness and antiquity of their culture and language and claim that their nations are among the most ancient in the world.[6] They, in turn, orientalize other Central Asian nations as “artificial and uprooted.” Turkmen orientalize everyone else by claiming their own unique five-millennia-old nationhood and culture that goes back to the times of Prophet Noah.[7] Internet forums, individual blogs, and posts on social media vividly illustrate how Central Asians employ orientalizing discourses and practices in relation to others. The orientalistic discourses transpire in heated altercations over a wide range of social

and political issues, such as trans-boundary watercourses, the construction of hydrostations, and others. The othering is particularly noticeable in Central Asians’ attitudes toward mixed marriages, which are often regarded as a disgrace by members of different ethnic groups. Furthermore, Central Asian orientalism fuels inter-ethnic tensions within the communities of Central Asian migrant workers, and students, and contributes to systematic hazing and harassment of ethnic minorities in the military establishments across Central Asian states.[8] The perpetrators of these types of violence tend to view their ethnic opponents through the orientalistically homogenizing prism as inferior, stupid, and treacherous.[9] It is not surprising, therefore, that ethnic minorities in all Central Asian republics—Uzbeks in Tajikistan, Tajiks in Uzbekistan, Uzbeks in Kyrgyzstan, and so on—attempt to evade draft at any cost. In addition to the discussed dichotomous categorization of ethnicities into developed/underdeveloped, civilized/uncivilized, and superior/inferior, the Central Asian orientalism involves debates about ethnicities and nations that are more autochthonous to the region. At a deeper level, the content of these debates concerns claims to cultural superiority of individual Central Asian nations. The cultural superiority, in turn, is gauged by the antiquity of a nation and its ties to the region. Consequently all Central Asian ethnic groups—Uzbeks, Tajik, Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, and Turkmen—lay claims to their autochthony. In these debates, “an ethnic group’s antiquity alludes to its cultural richness and superiority.”[10] “Cultural supremacy is understood as being proportional to how long a people have been present on their national territory.”[11] In general, a theme concerning the immemorial history of a nation’s presence on the territory that it inhibits today has become a vital element of national identity-building discourses.[12] These discourses have been employed by not only “titular” ethnic groups (i.e., those ethnic groups that constitute majorities within the Central Asian republics), but indigenous and migrant minorities as well. To summarize, Central Asian orientalism provides an ideational basis for building exclusivist identities, which are based on the prejudiced perception of the superiority of one’s own nation, fanatical glorification of one’s own culture, language, and history, and militant patriotism. Exclusivist identities are constructed in opposition to and, in the extreme cases, against the other(s). In other words, to be Kazakh means not to be/or be against the Russians, and to be Uzbek means not to be/or be against the Tajik.

MECHANISMS AND DRIVING FORCES IN ESTABLISHING EXCLUSIVIST IDENTITIES The local and native (pseudo-) intellectuals have played an important role in bolstering the orientalizing discourses through their “scholarship” aimed at re-writing the national histories of Central Asian states. The new historical accounts gloss over the shared history of Central Asian peoples in favor of the history of a particular ethnic group. While this group’s historical experiences get glorified in the modern historiographies of

the Central Asian nations, the role of other ethnicities is downgraded or completely excluded from the new historical narratives. This process of re-writing national histories has become the primary mechanism for fostering Central Asian orientalism. The uncritical acceptance of the new “truths” about Central Asian history has been happening on the backdrop of rampant politicization of historical scholarship and science to serve the exigencies of governing political regimes. The practice of politics interfering with scientific enquiry for political gains is not new to the region. During the Soviet time, science was a captive of the Communist regime. Scientific inquiry was carried out under strict ideological control. Serving the Soviet regime’s ideological goals was considered part of the scientific mission. Although it is contrary to the principle of academic freedom, the practice of state interference in science survived the Soviet time. The Central Asian academicians continue playing an important role in imparting “scientific” legitimacy to dubious political initiatives and programs. Participating in the creation of narratives about exclusivist (ethnicity-based) national identities is one way in which local intelligentsia assist in the legitimization of the Central Asian regimes. Certainly, not all states of the region pursue this policy to the same degree. For instance, Kyrgyz and Kazakh scholars have more academic freedoms than their counterparts in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan offer a greater space for independent intellectual pursuits than Tajikistan. The Turkmen and Uzbek governments exercise the utmost control over the national narrative-creation. Still, even in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, the heads of the state attempted to rewrite the history of their own nations.[13] The governments of Central Asian republics describe their relationship with academia as “patronage” over science, which in practice appears under the guise of the policy of “Gos-zakaz.” The latter stands for “state order” and refers to projects that are initiated and funded by the state. These projects, therefore, are inevitably ideologically driven. For instance, all Central Asian governments support historical and anthropological research, which supports claims of the titular nations to their autochthony and cultural superiority, or studies that derive the lineage of their nations from prominent historical figures—scholars, religious leaders, and warriors. Some of the examples of historical debates featured in the state-backed publications are those that concern the national origin of al-Khorezmi, al-Farabi, and Avicenna. “Was Biruni Uzbek?” “Was Ulugbek Uzbek?” “Was Yassawi Kazakh?” Debates over these and similar questions began in Soviet times but have intensified after the independence of Central Asian republics. The never-ending process of determining who of the common ancestors were Uzbek, Kazakh, Tajik, or Kyrgyz is futile since the contemporary ethnic divisions are a creation of the modern time. Still, many scholars and politicians in Central Asia ignore calls for avoiding the imposition of “present-day national categories on earlier periods.”[14] The myths of origin are merely a tool for claiming autochthony over the territory and cultural supremacy, and a method of building exclusivist identities. In general, the contemporary Central Asian intelligentsia hardly resembles the idealist and humanist Jadid, that is, the native Central Asian intelligentsia of pre-Soviet period,

either in their ideas or ways of life. The prevalence of post-Soviet mentality and materialistic values (including power and status aspirations) among the academicians diverts their attention from concerns with the so-called post-material values, such as protection of human rights, environmental issues, and the like. Alongside the “scholarship” that aims at rewriting the histories of individual Central Asian states, the national history curricula in schools across Central Asia have been instilled with the content conducive to fostering exclusivist perceptions of national identity among the new generation. For instance, historical texts used in the school curricula in Uzbekistan promote the idea that Uzbek nationhood embraces Amir Timur’s imperial achievements. History textbooks instruct Uzbek students that before the Russian colonization of Central Asia, the region’s population was divided into three Uzbek khanates and spoke predominantly Uzbek language. These assertions conflict with conclusions of the renowned historians who maintain that the population of khanates was extremely heterogeneous and many people were bilingual. Furthermore, ethnicity and language did not play a dominant role in the social structure and forms of governance in the political entities across pre-Soviet Central Asia. The geographical expanse of the khanates encompassed swathes of land of today’s Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and some parts of Kazakhstan.[15] Official efforts at building an exclusivist national identity through schooling are particularly conspicuous in Turkmenistan. The book Rukhnama authored by the late Turkmenbashi is still compulsory reading across all levels of the educational system in Turkmenistan. It represents a framework for official Turkmen history and a primary source for writing and teaching national history. Rukhnama teaches that “Turkmen people have a history of five thousands years.”[16] “Turkmen were founders of more than seventy great states and principalities. . . . The history of the Turkmen nation can be traced back to the Flood of Noah . . . Oguz Han is the national prophet of the Turkmen, but his name is not listed among the names of the prophets. He is only referred to by the word Torg in the old Hebrew books like the Torah.”[17] Similar, if less flagrant, claims to the uniqueness, greatness, and special place of the titular nation in the history of all humankind can be found in school textbooks in Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan. On the whole, the content of educational curricula across Central Asia provides a breeding ground for orientalism and exclusivist identities. The unique forms of governmentality in Central Asia function as another mechanism for furthering exclusivist identities and orientalism in the states of the region. For instance, Assel Rustemova points out that Uzbekistan’s mode of governmentality based on the cult of Amir Timur “supports the concept of Uzbekistan’s cultural superiority over its neighbors” and “defines the essential traits of what it is to be an Uzbek.” The cult of Amir Timur “sets out strong divisions domestically and abroad.” It “erects mental barriers and fosters divisions.”[18] The official national historiography and school curriculum embracing the cult of the political leader and military conqueror lends itself to the process of orientalizing the others. Finally, some ethnic groups in Central Asia represent themselves as historical

victims and employ the rekindled perceptions of victimhood for constructing exclusivist identities. In Central Asia this phenomenon manifests itself in different ways. For instance, in Tajikistan the victimhood of Tajiks is asserted at the highest political level through the discourse condemning the millennium-long yoke of Turkic tribes followed by the modern rebirth of the Tajik nation. As a result of intermarriages and cultural and linguistic intermingling of Tajik and other Turkic tribes over centuries, their communities became more alike, according to the official view in Tajikistan. In Kazakhstan, Kazakh nationalists tend to cultivate the sense of victimhood against Russians, even though Russian people cannot be held directly responsible for injustices and cultural onslaught against Kazakhs. The suffering of Kazakhs, as well as millions of Russians and their culture, religion, and traditions, was the fallout of the totalitarian system. Many ethnic Kazakhs themselves were implicated in the workings of totalitarianism in their republic. The victimhood of Turkmen against “ruthless cruelties and destructions of Amir Timur and Chengis Khan” (who have been privatized by the Uzbek official historiography) has been asserted in Rukhnama.[19] Politicians and scholars heralding exclusionary identities purport to create homogeneous national identities corresponding to their standards. Although these exclusivist ideas are commonly presented under the guide of new patriotism, they represent the remnants of the Soviet-style thinking. The latter kind of thinking is distinguished by its unwillingness and inability to accept ideological and paradigmatic diversity or ideational pluralism. Ethnic groups masterminding exclusionary identities feel deep suspicion toward others including ethnic and religious minorities, diasporas, and even those in-group members who show dissent because disagreement is viewed as a threat of the social cohesiveness of the society.

THE ROLE OF THE INSTRUMENTALIZATION OF ISLAM IN THE CONSTRUCTION OF NATIONAL IDENTITIES Religion, particularly Islam, is indispensible to national identities in Central Asia, where the majority of locals identify themselves as Muslims. After the collapse of the Soviet ideological edifice with concomitant beliefs in virtues of atheism, Central Asia witnessed a revival of Islamic traditions manifested in the growing number of people perceiving Islam as their “way of life” and practicing the religion. Two trends that undermine both the traditional forms of Islam in Central Asia and transnational Islamic currents have been underway in the region in response to the Islamic renaissance. On the one hand, some representatives of local intelligentsia and political elites have tried to diminish the role of Islam in national identity by prioritizing pre-Islamic practices and traditions such as Zoroastrianism, Shamanism, and Tengerism. There are also those propagating combative secularism that downplays the role of any religious beliefs in the identity structure. On the other hand, governments and religious leaders handpicked by the governing regimes have exploited state-controlled Islam for both shaping national identities and also legitimizing their own exclusionary perceptions of national identities.[20] The deliberate discursive representations of Islam that package

references to the religion with various themes and emotional appeals for highlighting some selected aspects of religion while muting or disparaging others, all for accomplishing distinctive political aims, is known as the instrumentalization of religion. [21]

The governments of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, for example, have actively promoted the localized Muslim identities. Turkmenistan’s Rukhnama, which represents both a historical and religious source, describes Turkmen as “Türk-iman” defined as “asli nur.” The latter can be translated as “Turk-faith-divine light essence,”[22] that is, “essential, fundamental (divine) light,” and interpreted as sanctification of ethnic Turkmen. In Kazakhstan, a pseudo-Sufi community has propagated an interpretation of Islam comprised of a mixture of Sufism and Kazakh nationalism in recent years. The community members of this Sufi “order” believe that the Kazakh perception of Islam, Kazakh traditions, and their way of life are not only the best, but they are also the only “truth.”[23] One of the primary reasons for using Islam in support of nationalistic sentiments is the acceptance of Islamic practices and traditions in all Central Asian communities and, therefore, the potency of Islam to serve as a mobilizing force. For some Kazakhs, the nationalization of religion serves an important psychological function by offering a consolation for the supposed loss of the Kazakh nomadic civilization during the Soviet period. Furthermore, attempts at controlling and managing religious activities through the states’ bureaus of religious affairs or the government-backed religious authorities impart legitimacy to nationalistic policies, despite the fact that religious teachings, by and large, do not tolerate nationalism. The claims about religious superiority just like the claims about the superiority of secularism over various forms of religiosity feed into the orientalizing discourses in Central Asia. The orientalistic binaries that counterpoise pious Muslims with not pious or corrupt Muslims, and fundamentalists with nominal believers and Shamanists have become commonplace in Central Asia. The susceptibility of the Central Asian people to this kind of dichotomous thinking explains the popularity of binary opposites that translate into the orientalization of others and construction of exclusivist identities. For instance, the older generation of Central Asians who were brought up during the Soviet period and who are currently at the helm of Central Asian politics regard Islam as part of local traditions. It is perceived as a cultural artifact, rather than a framework of moral and ethical values that shape and direct the lives of individuals and whole communities. This generation interprets the spread of Islam through the lens of “narrow traditionalism,” which excludes an understanding of Islam as the “ethical and enlightened” religion based on tolerance, inclusiveness, good morality, and trustworthiness. One of the distinct processes of instrumentalization of Islam is known as securitization of religion. Securitization entails a discursive practice of defining a phenomenon that does not necessarily belong to a security realm as security threat. [24] The securitization of Islam in Central Asia contributes to the rise of exclusivist identities in the region by strengthening the position of those social and political forces

that advocate for homogeneous national identities based on arbitrarily (if deliberately) selected features, including an understanding of religion that fits the agendas of the ruling elites. Fears of radicalization of Islam certainly contribute to its securitization by the Central Asian governments. However, the spread of perceptions of Islam as a threat is also enabled by the increasingly diversified social fabric of the Central Asian societies and the emergence of religious groups that are not extremist or violent but “alien” to the host states and societies. A simplistic and narrow perception of religion, in general, and Islam, in particular, is still prevalent in Central Asia. Subsequently, any non-local and, therefore, non-traditional religious group engaged in lawful practices that appears in the communities of Central Asians is habitually perceived as alien and labeled fundamentalist.[25] Under the lasting impact of the Soviet period, many representatives of the contemporary political and intellectual elites in Central Asia continue interpreting the Islamic awakening as an inherently political and dangerous phenomenon, despite the fact that the Hanafi school of Islamic jurisprudence that has been the prevalent form of Sunni Islam in Central Asian focuses primarily and predominantly on the moral and spiritual upbringing of a believer and his community.

THE IMPACT OF EXCLUSIVIST IDENTITIES ON REGIONAL SECURITY AND COOPERATION Post-Soviet Central Asia is a region where nearly all integration projects that were launched following the breakup of the Soviet Union have failed. This is not what one would expect of a group of states with common pre-Soviet and Soviet history and cultural, religious, and linguistic affinities of indigenous populations. Some Central Asian ethno-es have common ancestry—Kazakh, Kyrgyz, and Uzbek, for example, draw their origins from the same Qipchak, Kongrat, and Nayman tribes. Turkicspeaking and Persian-speaking peoples have intermingled over the course of centuries of living side-by-side, while the inter-ethnic marriages have fostered close blood relations. The fallout of regional integration and cooperation is a complex problem with multiple factors contributing to it. Central Asian states have adopted different models of economic development. Their foreign policy goals and domestic political agendas often go contrary to those of the neighboring states. Regional integration is hindered by a host of unresolved problems concerning water rights, disputed borders, and contested territories. Until these latter problems are resolved, meaningful integration and sustainable regional security will not be attained. While the listed above factors are important for understanding the failings of regional integration, they emphasize the role of “material” considerations and exclude ideational concerns. I take a position that foregrounds the importance of perceptions of the Self and Others in explaining relations among the Central Asian republics including the prospects for sustainable regional cooperation. Specifically, the discussed categorization (identification) patterns that construe the “other” in negative and homogenous terms can serve as a catalyst for inter-communal conflicts.[26] In

other words, the discourses of exclusivist identities foster inter-ethnic and intercommunal tensions and, therefore, should be regarded as one of the biggest stumbling blocks in furthering stable and harmonious relations within and across Central Asian republics. As demonstrated in this chapter, all Central Asian states have engaged in the process of building exclusivist national identities centered on the so-called “titular” (or majority) nation defined in ethnic terms. The intensity of this process has varied across the states of Central Asia from unofficial and concealed efforts to official endorsements of ethnocentrism of a titular ethnic group. Ethnocentrism typically entails glorification of the ethnic group’s culture, traditions, and values and perceptions of inferiority of other ethnic groups and accompanying negative evaluations of these ethnic groups.[27] A Russian analyst summarized the alarming prevalence of ethnocentric tendencies in Central Asia in the following way: The national intelligentsia and authorities have discovered in ethnicization a way of fighting for political and other dividends. Increased conflict between states of the region can be accounted for in the following way. Today, Uzbeks and Tajiks are not ‘brotherly nations” in the “friendly family” of the Soviet Union, but competitors, rivals for influence, economic resources and capital investment . . . Tajik “national” ideology rivals and contradicts Uzbek ideology. The Uzbeks declared that the Tajiks were their “historic rivals”; the history of Tajikistan is presented in school textbooks and monographs as an alternative to the Uzbek account of Central Asian history.[28] Regional integration is not possible on the backdrop of the ethnocentric orientalist discourses representing a particular ethnic group as exceptional and superior to all others. As long as these discourses are perpetuated in national myths of cultural superiority and official histories defending the claims of ethnic groups to the land, intellectual heritage, and leadership in Central Asia, regional cooperation and integration will hardly be achievable. The construction of exclusivist national identities impedes any effort at building peaceful and harmonious relations within individual Central Asian republics, and also in their relations with the neighboring states. It is not only a broad range of economic and social problems, such as high rates of unemployment and shortage of water resources and arable land that can trigger ethnic hatred and sentiments, but “the ways in which people form perceptions of themselves and others” that constitute the most important root cause of conflict.[29] By manipulating the concept of identity, people have fomented hatred and instigated violence, including genocide, against people who were previously neighbors, friends, and even relatives living together in peace.[30] Bosnia of the early 1990s offers an extreme example of a place where different ethnic groups, which had been neighbors for generations, turned violent toward each other. Committed on an unprecedented scale, this violence was enabled by the

process of dehumanization of the other (e.g., dehumanization of Bosniaks by Serbian Chetniks) unleashed by the nationalist intelligentsia and, later, accepted by the segments of the population.[31] The inter-communal conflicts that erupted in the postSoviet Central Asia, primarily the civil war in Tajikistan and a series of violent clashes in the Fergana valley region of Uzbekistan and southern Kyrgyzstan, also shocked the observers by the scale of violence aimed at innocent people who were chosen deliberately as targets. Neither standing armies nor foreign mercenaries were involved in these violent acts of killing and torture, and other types of bodily harm. For these massive and indiscriminate atrocities to take place, perpetrators must be desensitized to killing and mutilating others, who come from the neighboring communities. The manifest orientalist thinking that underlies the process of othering is indispensible to the creation of dehumanizing perceptions of others. This is not to suggest that the host of social, economic, and political problems in Central Asian have not contributed to the volatile situation in the region. Rather, my intent is to highlight the role of the creeping Central Asian orientalism, which leads to demonization and dehumanization of the others, in destabilizing inter-ethnic relations. In other words, the negative perceptions of neighboring communities solidified by exclusivist identities reproduce inter-communal tensions and trigger inter-ethnic clashes in Central Asia. The construction of exclusivist identities based upon the Central Asian orientalism can be thought of as the ideational source of failed efforts at integration and cooperation in the region. If minds and hearts are not ready to embrace and accept others and, in extreme cases, perceive others in derogatory terms, even the best political initiatives will be futile. Competing claims to historical legacy and cultural supremacy of the nations accompanied by the systematical process of orientalizing the neighboring others will continue posing the major challenge to the resolution of inter-state problems with disputed borders, minorities, and trans-boundary rivers and trade. As one commentator from Uzbekistan noted, nobody else but Central Asians themselves hinder the process of regional integration.[32] A saying that “neighborhood does not mean to be close to each other” describes post-Soviet Central Asia. Individual Central Asian states have stronger affinity to states outside the Central Asian region—Russia, Turkey, and South Korea are prime examples of these states —than to their immediate Central Asian neighbors. To sum up, the construction of exclusivist identities in Central Asia bears negative implications for regional integration and security in the region. At its “best,” it obstructs regional cooperation. At its worst, it may engender inter-ethnic and intercommunal enmity, which can evolve into violent conflict. The most extreme cases of orientalistic thinking support the emergence of extreme exclusivist identities, which embrace the denial or maltreatment and dehumanization of the other. This, in turn, constitutes a serious threat to the regional security. There is another dimension of the phenomenon of exclusivist identities in Central Asia, which also undermines the process of regional integration. It concerns the formation of exclusivist identities at the local level in all Central Asian republics. These exclusivist identities are based upon either sub-ethnic and sub-regional categories,

such as clans, tribes, and regional networks, or ethnic and religious categories, such as local religious communities, minority groups, and diasporas. Even when the official policy of a Central Asian republic purports to build comprehensive nationalism, some segments of its population will still prefer mostly exclusivist local identities. For example, in Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, despite the rigid state policy, intense official propaganda, and strict school curriculum that are aimed at building comprehensive national (ethnically based) identity, the sub-ethnic and regional groups are still very powerful.[33] In Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, and Tajikistan where the space for relative pluralism of ideas and choices exists, democratic institutions are exploited for sustaining sub-ethnic and regional cleavages. For instance, it is commonplace for the rural Central Asians to vote based on their clan affiliations. In these circumstances, opposition emerges due to the exclusion of the representative of the same or different group from power and access to resources, rather than due to democratic pluralism or the maturity of civil society.

CONCLUSION What are the sources of interethnic and inter-communal tensions in Central Asia? This chapter illuminated one of these sources, namely, the processes of constructing exclusivist identities in Central Asian states. Built at the state level and below, these exclusivist identities engender inter-communal peace and also undermine efforts at regional cooperation and integration. Both exclusivist identities and Central Asian orientalism are an unfortunate product of the Soviet-era policies that transformed the sociological and psychological fabric of the Central Asian societies. The pre-Soviet identities of the Central Asian peoples had little to do with contemporary ethnic identifications, which were imposed by the nationalities policy of the Soviet Union as a necessary step toward socialism. However artificial these ethnic and national definitions are, the fact remains that Central Asian peoples have come to perceive them as real and identify themselves and others according to these categories. This, in turn, has opened the space for ethnic-based exclusivist group identities. It can be argued that the construction of exclusivist identities in Central Asia has resulted from the pervasiveness of post-Soviet mentality across the region. The post-Soviet mentality, in the context of this chapter, refers to a unique mind-set, which accepts primordial ethno-centric understanding of national identity and relegates religion to the position of a cultural artifact. This mindset is also overwhelmed with the orientalistic patterns of thinking that construe “others” in negative terms, neglect the heterogeneity of “others,” and represent the categories used to describe “others” as comprehensive descriptions of diverse groups. Finally, the post-Soviet mentality embraces legal relativism and domination of materialistic values over non-materialistic and postmaterialistic considerations. The fact that different ethnic groups and communities experienced more or less peaceful relations during the Soviet period did not translate into stability in the postSoviet era. As the history of inter-ethnic and inter-state relations in Central Asian has

shown, the formal acceptance of pluralism by the Soviet regime did not result in interethnic peace in the post-independence period. The peaceful co-existence of “brotherly nations” during the Soviet era was unsustainable in the post-Soviet period, because in the past it was held together by an ideology intolerant of other paradigms and ways of life. The social cohesion began breaking down even before the dismemberment of the Soviet Union; the inter-ethnic peace held by the ideological glue was shuttered by the nascent ideological pluralism of the late 1980s. I argue that the classic Central Asian civilization or traditional Central Asian ways of thinking and perception of the other would have offered a more constructive basis for the creation of national identities had it not been destroyed during the Soviet time. The reason is as follows: the pre-Soviet patterns of identification and political organization, such as the multi-ethnic Central Asian Khanates or the inter-ethnic “Six Alash” tribe of Kazakh Turks, did not tie ethnicity with statehood and culture with territory.[34] The Central Asian identities at different levels—from familial to regional—were defined and maintained within the larger context of an Islamic moral order[35] and nomadic, seminomadic, or sedentary ways of life.[36] The Central Asian civilization served as an immune system against any kind of social conflict. By destroying it in Central Asia, the Soviet system laid grounds for building exclusivist identities and subsequent interethnic tensions in the region. Under these circumstances, the prospects for regional integration in Central Asia are very slim, and the future of regional organizations seems to be murky. Historically, only those states that have been able to overcome mutual mistrust and orientalizing tendencies have succeeded in building viable integration projects and fostering regional stability. It is well established that education and scholarship play a crucial role in the formation of national identity. Using education and science as its tools, the Soviet regime was able to transform the patterns of life and mentality of the whole Central Asian societies. As a result of the Soviet-era education, many in the older generation of the Central Asians became alienated from their very own traditional civilization. The educational legacy of the Soviet period and problems that emerged from it could be remedied with a new kind of education and scientific inquiry. The academic institutions in the Central Asian region have to be liberated from politics, and the whole system of education, especially higher education, which places greater emphasis on the humanities, should undergo critical reappraisal. The humanities curriculum should promote the ideas of pluralism that support the creation of inclusive identities. The latter are more human-centered and, therefore, will be more apt to foster tolerant political culture and patriotic commitment to a state. The comprehensive secular education funded by the state, which nurtures respect for the rule of law and acceptance of the cultural and ideational pluralism and democracy, is necessary for preventing the emergence of any comprehensive othering and curbing the rise of ethnic, communal and religious intolerance. In addition, Islam in pre-Soviet Central Asia that combined classical Central Asian Islamic understanding with the Hanafi doctrine and Sunni Sufi tradition can be best described as “ethical and enlightened.” This kind of interpretation of Islam should be

promoted in contemporary Central Asia. Viewing Islam as an ethical and moral code can greatly contribute to overcoming the problem of Central Asian orientalism and exclusivist identities, and help in building peace, stability, and cooperation in the region. In the past, to be a Central Asian, whether of sedentary or nomadic origin, meant to be hospitable, inclusive, and tolerant. Truly the civilizational and cultural heritage of the region is antithetical to building exclusionary identities. Therefore, Central Asian societies should strive to develop positive nationalism, which implies serving one’s own country and society by developing them in terms of global competitiveness and getting one’s own history, language, and culture loved and respected in the world. Central Asians must regard ethical and cultural differences and ethnic diversity as unifying factors.

NOTES 1. John Heron, Empirical Validity in Experiential Research (London: Sage, 1982). 2. Fuat Keyman, “Globallesme, Oryantalizm ve Öteki Sorunu. 11 Eylül Sonrası Dünya ve Adalet,” Dogu Bati no. 20 (August-October 2002): 18. 3. Edward Said, Orientalism (New York, NY: Vintage Books, 2004). 4. Rustamzhon Abdullaev, “Uzbeks are Aristocrats of Turkic Nations,” IA REX, accessed August 1, 2014, www.iarex.ru/articles/20548.html. 5. Marina Stukova, “The Light from the East (Anniversary of Aryan Civilization),” Zavtra 53, No. 580 (December 29, 2004), accessed February 3, 2013, zavtra.ru/cgi//veil//data/zavtra/04/580/51.html. 6. Erica Marat, National Ideology and State-building in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Silk Road Papers, Central Asia-Caucasus Institute (2008), 10, accessed February 3, 2013 www.isdp.eu/images/stories/isdp-main-pdf/2008_marat_national-ideology-andstate-building.pdf. 7. Rukhnama, accessed August 3, 2014, www.ruhnama.info. 8. See, for example, Radio Azzatyk, “The Cadets in Moscow Fought,” accessed February 1, 2013, www.centrasia.ru/newsA.php?st=1346955060. 9. Personal communications with former solders of different ethnic origins. 10. Marat, National Ideology and State-building in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, 10. 11. Marlene Laruelle, “The Return of the Aryan Myth: Tajikistan in Search of a Secularized National Identity,” Nationalist Papers 35, no 1 (2007): 56. 12. Laruelle, “The Return of the Aryan Myth”; Marat, National Ideology and Statebuilding in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. 13. Marat, National Ideology and State-building in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, 8–10. 14. Adrienne Edgar, Book Review of Frontiers into Borders: The Transformation of Identities in Central Asia by Anita Sengupta, Central Eurasian Studies Review 5, no.1 (2006): 48. 15. Uzbekistan History, textbook for 9th grade [in Russian] (Tashkent, 2010). 16. Rukhnama.

17. Rukhnama. 18. Assel Rustemova, “Economics of National Ideas in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan,” Paper presented at the Changing Europe Summer School (2008), accessed February 3, 2013, www.changing-europe.org/download/Summer_School_2008/Rustemova.pdf. 19. Rukhnama. 20. Personal communication with Uzbek and Turkmen academicians working abroad. 21. Mariya Y. Omelicheva, “Mapping out Islams in Central Asia: From Popular Practices to Official Representations,” Paper presented at Islam in Central Asia: Politics, Society and Resistance, Institute of Arab and Islamic Studies, University of Exeter, UK, November 24–25, 2012. 22. Rukhnama. 23. Personal communication with one of the leading members of this community. 24. Mariya Y. Omelicheva, “Islam in Kazakhstan: A Survey of Contemporary Trends and Sources of Securitization,” Central Asian Survey, 30, no. 2, (2011): 249. 25. For the assessment of Kazakhstan’s case, see Omelicheva, “Islam in Kazakhstan,” 252. 26. Nikki Slocum-Bradley, “Introduction: Borders of the Mind,” in Promoting Conflict or Peace through Identity, ed. Nikki Slocum-Bradley (Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing, 2008), 1. 27. Onola Derbisheva-Sutherland, Russian Ethnocentrism and the West: Cultural and Historical Dynamics of Perception of the West in Russia. PhD Dissertation, University of Canterbury, 2009, 8–9. 28. Sergei Abashin, “The Transformation of Ethnic Identity in Central Asia: A Case Study of the Uzbeks and Tajiks,” Russian Regional Perspectives Journal 1, no 2 (2003): 34. 29. Slocum-Bradley, “Introduction,” 1. 30. Ibid. 31. See Mohamed H. K. Al-Mahfedi and P. Venkatesh, “Darwinist Premise in the Orientalist Construction of the ‘Other,’” Journal of Postcolonial Cultures and Societies 3, no 1, (2012): 5. 32. V. Ponomarev, “We Have the Common Aim to Perish Ourselves,” Svoboda Slova, no. 44 (290). 33. Personal communications with anonymous Central Asian experts of Uzbek and Turkmen origin living abroad, April 2013. 34. Edgar, Book Review of Frontiers into Borders, 48. 35. Nazif Shahrani, “From Tribe to Umma: Comments on the Dynamics of Identity in Muslim Soviet Central Asia,” Central Asian Survey 3, no. 3 (1984): 30. 36. Shahrani, “From Tribe to Umma,” 29.

Conclusion Mariya Y. Omelicheva Every year Central Asian republics hold festive celebrations of their national independence. Yet, more than twenty years since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Central Asian states continue to reexamine and debate who and what they represent. Their nation-building process is ongoing, and their national identities are being redefined in the changing domestic and international contexts. By its nature national identity should unite people around common histories, values, sentiments of a common fate, and other aspects of the national imagery. National identity, however, can also be divisive by erecting symbolic boundaries that separate people into groups. The latter situation is characteristic of national identities in Central Asia. Not only are they subject to domestic contestation and rivalry between individual Central Asian states, national identities also separate Central Asian people into the essentialized, if still constructed, categories of in-groups and “others,” which are often pitched against each other, as discussed in the final chapter of this volume authored by Zhussipbek. How can new nations arise without being brought into being by nationalisms, as exemplified by the republics of Central Asia? What kinds of nationalisms unfold in these states, and what determines the nature and dynamics of national identity construction in Central Asia? This collection engages with these questions. The original studies featured in the volume scrutinize the nature and discourses of nationalisms and identity construction in the post-Soviet Central Asian republics, and elucidate the main strategies and tactics employed at various levels of identity construction in these states. While no comprehensive analysis of nationalism and identity has the capacity to cover all aspects of these complex phenomena, jointly the chapters illuminate some of the new ways in which nationalisms and identities have come to manifest themselves in the Central Asian states. Along with the analysis of the old and new dimensions of nationalisms and identities in Central Asia, the studies addressed the driving forces of nationalisms and circumstances that have engendered specific discourses and practices of identity formation. They also considered the implications of fragmented and contested identities and ethnic nationalisms for the future of governance, security, and other issues in Central Asia. This goal of this conclusion is to highlight some findings discussed in the chapters of this book. Independence was thrust on the Central Asian republics in the wake of the Soviet Union’s collapse. Subsequently, the nationhood of the newly independent states was neither the result of a mobilization by local elites and intelligentsia nor the expression of the nationalist sentiment by the Central Asian people. Although the rhetoric of struggle for independence, national unity, resistance to foreign oppression, and historical continuity of the nation often appears in the new historiographies of the Central Asian states, there has been a limited number of national movements in the

history of the region, with the most prominent ones engaged in anti-colonial revolts against the Tsarist regime or opposition to the Soviet government in the aftermath of the Bolshevik revolution. In the late 1980s, when parts of the crumbling U.S.S.R. saw a deluge of nationalist movements, national and civic activism was comparatively weak in Central Asia and concerned itself with issues other than national selfdetermination. Laruelle’s chapter discusses how the 1986 Zheltoksan riots in Kazakhstan and the first nationalistic parties that were formed in the country in 1989– 1990 exemplified political opposition to the Communist regime rather than a strong nationalist agenda. Burkhanov and Shapirova’s chapter in this volume discusses another example of the Central Asian civic activism—environmental protests against the Semey nuclear test site, also in Kazakhstan, and the devastation of the Aral Sea. All in all, the interpretation and memorialization of significant historical experiences has been selective and politicized in service of broader ideological agendas, as exemplified in Chobotayeva’s contribution illuminating the changing politics of memory in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan. The contradictions of representations of the key historical events have come to signify both political and ideological contradictions in the Central Asian states and attempts at interpreting and defining the place of the legacies of the Soviet past in the contemporary national building projects. Similarly to the nationalities policies of the Soviet Union that were designed to instill national consciousness after the creation of territorial units and political structures to govern them, the nation building policies of the Central Asian governments unfolded within the established territories led by the former Communist party functionaries who reinvented themselves as nationalists. As a result, the postSoviet nation building in Central Asia has had much in common with the erstwhile practices of the Soviet Union, if not in content, then definitely in strategies and form. The resultant forms of nationalism were distinct in that they were not designed to bring about independence from a colonial power or to reinstate a historical nation.[1] Instead, nationalisms were promoted and aimed to address the issue of stateness and desire for unity threatened by the ethnic and cultural diversity, geography, the availability of natural resources, and complex geopolitical situation that these countries faced on independence. Ernest Gelner’s argument about nationalism aptly describes post-Soviet Central Asia: “nationalism is not the awakening of an old, latent, dormant force though that is how it does indeed present itself. It is in reality the consequence of a new form of social organization, based on deeply internalized, education-dependent high cultures, each protected by its own state. It uses some of the pre-existing cultures, generally transforming them in process, but it cannot possibly use them all.”[2] The leadership of the newly independent states rushed to put in place new symbols of nationhood and identify new identity contents in the process of identity construction. The Soviet and Communist symbolic paraphernalia were outright rejected in all states but Kyrgyzstan, but all Central Asian republics, in the end, replaced the Soviet markers of identity with the national ones. Despite the officially professed commitment to building an inclusive civic national identity, the political elites

in all Central Asian states decided to implement a nation building policy based on ethnicity. Inevitably, the official nation-building narratives have been contested at different levels. At the sub-national level, for example, identities have been constructed through intermingling and amalgamation of different non-national elements, such as clan, tribe, and religion. At the national level, too, Central Asian states have shown greater or lesser ability to switch between alternative discourses of national identity. Kazakhstan has been particularly adept in this regard. As the chapter by Laruelle demonstrates, there are at least three national identity-building repertoires that coexist in Kazakhstan. This hybridity is a hallmark of the Nazarbayev government’s pragmatism and a vivid illustration of the instrumental character of official ideologies. Several chapters of the volume highlighted the new ways in which identities have come to manifest themselves in Central Asia. Radford’s chapter discussed new dimensions of identity construction that are taking place in Kyrgyzstan where Kyrgyz Christians build upon traditional aspects of Kyrgyz identity while blending them with non-traditional aspects. Radford questioned the widely accepted association between Kyrgyz ethnicity and Islam and showed some of the ways in which Kyrgyz Christians have discursively constructed and lived out Kyrgyz Christian religious ethnic identity. Omelicheva’s chapter gave prominence to the external aspects of national identity examined through the lens of the nation branding paradigm. While the chapter focused on the efforts of the Turkmen government to create and disseminate an image of Turkmenistan as a modern, democratic, rapidly developing, and hospitable state, it also discussed other Central Asian states’ efforts at improving their international reputations and increasing their market attractiveness. Laruelle’s chapter, too, elucidated an international dimension of Kazakhstan’s nation building through the discussion of the transnationalist “repertoire” stressing the ideas of interconnectivity, globalization, and integration of Kazakhstan into the world community in the national discourse of the Kazakh government. While the novel ways of conceiving of identities are becoming prominent in Central Asia, the dominant national narratives continue to present identity in “old” fashion. A major legacy of the Soviet nationality policy, the dominant national identity narrative continues territorializing the nation and ethnicizing the identity. According to Bukhanov and Sharipova, a primordialist vision of identity still largely dominates in Central Asian identity discourses and policies. Why did ethnic nationalism become the key mechanisms of political process in these states? Ethnic nationalism was an expedient and promising strategy capable of providing a sense of social cohesiveness and stability by uniting the majority groups around the shared and powerful link of ethnicity. In the process of constructing new national identities, Central Asian leadership sought to revive traditional ethnic identities and make them the core of new national identities. To mobilize the majority groups’ support and foster their attachment to the new national identities, the Central Asian regimes assisted by the local academics, embarked on the task of rewriting national histories and creating appealing myths impressing on the majority groups a feeling of

strong attachment to the present geographical location of the country. This is the practice termed as autochthony by Zhussipbek in his contribution to the volume. The majority group’s language, which had inferior status during the Soviet time, was recognized as the official language in the new constitutions. The Russian names of cities, streets, administrative divisions, and other landmarks were replaced with the ethnic names. The governments chose key historical figures—Tamerlane in Uzbekistan, Manas in Kyrgyzstan, the ruler of the Samanid Empire Islamil Saman in Tajikistan, and the spiritual leader of Turkmen Magtymguly Pygary—to boost the national pride of the majority group and spotlight the attractive features of the majority group’s national character.[3] Among other nation building strategies employed by the Central Asian governments are the re-interpretation of selected historical events and appeals to traumatic memories, and comprehensive “othering” of other ethnic groups. Chokobaeva’s chapter examined the communal remembrance of Urkun—the Turkestan uprising of 1916—on the backdrop of efforts at national identity construction in the modern Kyrgyzstan. The chapter’s conclusions about collective memory as “an instrument and an objective of power” apply to all Central Asian republics where both histories and memories are “socially constructed, collectively shared, and selectively exploited.” The memories of historical injustice, in particular, contribute to the narratives of victimization of an ethnic group binding its members and cementing their unity against all others, particularly, the perceived offender. The building of the nation necessarily entails the identification of the relationships with the other in terms of both cooperation and hierarchy. Continuing with the theme of “otherness,” Zhussipbek’s chapter showed how Central Asian regimes forged exclusivist national identities that understate, if not completely dismiss and denigrate, histories, cultures, and other identity markers of other ethnic groups. According to Zhussipbek, these exclusivist identities focused on what individual Central Asian nations were not, rather than what they were. In other words, ethnicity-based national identities have been constructed in reaction and even opposition to the identities of neighboring others. Kazakhness (or Kazakhstanness), Uzbekness, Kyrgyzness, Tajikness, and Turkmeness were superimposed over an array of internal differences and sub-national identity markers in response to contact with the Other and, especially, in response to conflict with the Other. Thus, nationalisms and dominant national identities in Central Asia have been promoted by the governing political regimes. Nationalisms have been the top-down process with the ruling elites rather than the populace playing the role of the main architects in the national identity construction. These elites (as well as their opponents) have resorted to all available tools and resources, including the geographical and geopolitical assets, for instituting greater social cohesiveness, legitimizing their power, and garnering international support for their rule. Even Islam —a major competing marker for national identity of states with the predominantly Muslim population—has been pushed to the background of public identity discourses. The balancing act of embracing religion without allowing it to dominate the contents of

national identity or supersede ethnic nationalism has been tricky at times, but Central Asian regimes, all of which declared their secular nature, have shown profound capacity and creativity in achieving the desired secular-religious comprise in the official national ideology. Even when Central Asians wanted otherwise, political elites have not allowed Islam to supplant nationalism or to challenge their legitimacy. In no way has Islam been allowed to participate in politics of Central Asian republics. Even in Tajikistan, the government of President Rahmon evaded any serious and constructive conversation with the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan about the best ways to build and consolidate the Tajik nation, as Nourzhanov’s chapter illustrates. What lies ahead for nationalisms and identity building in Central Asia? While the volume did not proffer any definitive answers about its future, several contributors conjectured about the developments in national identity discourses and policies in the Central Asian republics in short- and medium-term. Laruelle surmised that in Kazakhstan, the discourse of civic national identity—“the Kazakhstaness repertoire”— will ultimately vanish, and its government will seek to articulate a synthesis between an ethnic version of the national identity—“the Kazakhness repertoire”—and the international one—“the transnationalism repertoire.” Hanks holds that the rivalry between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan regarding their “dueling myths” of ethnogenesis and national legitimacy is unlikely to subside under the current leadership, and will continue to color the relations between them. Chokobaeva expressed greater uncertainty about the course of the political future of Kyrgyzstan, which has gone through several regime changes since its independence, suffered from inter-ethnic violence, and which is the first experiment with parliamentary democracy in Central Asia. Omelicheva noted that international environment with its expectations of the proper forms of governance and levels of development would continue shaping nation building discourses and national images prepared for domestic and international audiences in all Central Asian states. Here, Laruelle’s conclusion about the deliberate conflation of the state and the regime in Kazakhstan’s transnational repertoire of identity applies to other Central Asian republics as well. Their international reputation crafted through the nation branding strategies is supposed to reap political and economic benefits in relations with other states and to strengthen the regimes’ political legitimacy at home. What is also certain is that the geopolitical situation will continue affecting these states’ performance of two seemingly contradictory tasks, namely, the consolidation of national sovereignties and independence at home and accomplishing greater regional integration.

NOTES 1. Dagikhudo Dagiev, Regime Transition in Central Asia: Stateness, Nationalism and Political Change in Tajikistan and Uzbekistan (Abington, Oxon: Routledge, 2014), 68. 2. Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 2nd edition (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1983), 46.

3. Kazakhs have been promoting nomadic culture and traditions. See Vladimir Fedorenko, “Central Asia: From Ethnic to Civic Nationalism,” Rethink Paper (March 2014), accessed August 1, 2014, www.rethinkinstitute.org/files/Fedorenko%20%20Central%20 Asia%20Nationalism.pdf .

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Index T The 1916 Great Revolt in Turkestan, 1 , 2 accounts of, 1.1-1.2 contestation over interpretation, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 Urkun reference to, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2

“ “3D” perspective on nationalisms and identity construction, 1

A Abu Hanifa, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 Alash See nationalist movements Amir Timur as identity marker, 1 as Uzbek hero, 1 , 2 , 3 place in Uzbekistan’s history and national identity, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 Anderson, Benedict, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 Armstrong, John, 1 , 2 Aryanism, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 See also Tajiks, ethnogenesis of Astana, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 autochthonism, 1 , 2 , 3

B Berdymukhamedov, Gurbanguly, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 government of president, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 political reforms, 1.1-1.2 See also Turkmenistan branding See nation branding Breuilly, John, 1

C Central Asia, 1.1-1.2 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 history of nations and nationalism in, 1.1-1.2 Islamization of, 1

Christianity, 1 , 2 , 3 Protestant, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 See also religious conversion CIS See Commonwealth of Independent States Commonwealth of Independent States, 1 , 2 constructivism, 1 , 2 See also modernism

D December 1986 riots See Zheltoksan riots

E ethnic groups, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 , 6.1-6.2 categorization of, 1 dominant, 1 in Kazakhstan, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 , 5.1-5.2 majority, 1 , 2 , 3 titular, 1 , 2 See also Kazakhs See also Kyrgyz See also Tajiks See also Turkmen See also Uzbeks ethnic identity See ethnic groups ethnie See Ethnosymbolism Ethnosymbolism, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5 ethnie in, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 la longue duree in, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6.1-6.2 See also Smith, Anthony D. Eurasianism, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 as foreign policy of Kazakhstan, 1.1-1.2 Nazarbayev’s, 1 See also Kazakhstanness repertoire See also Nazarbayev, Nursultan

G Gellner, Ernest, 1 , 2 , 3

H heroes national, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 See also Amir Timur See also Manas Hutchinson, John, 1

I identity markers of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 Muslim, 1 , 2 , 3 pan-Turkic, 1 , 2 , 3 sub-national, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 See also national identity in-groups See othering inter-ethnic conflict, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 international image, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5.1-5.2 See also branding Islamic movements, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 renaissance, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 , 5 Islamic identity See Muslim identity Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5.1-5.2 , 6.1-6.2 , 7.1-7.2 , 8 See also Kabiri, Muhiddin See also Nuri, Sayyed Abdullo Islam in Central Asia Hanafi (madhab) in, 1.1-1.2 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 , 5 instrumentalization of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 official, 1 , 2 political, 1 , 2 popular, 1 , 2 role in nationalism, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5.1-5.2 , 6 , 7 , 8 securitization of, 1 Sufi, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 Sunni, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 See also Islamic renaissance See also Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan See also religious conversion IRPT See Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan

K Kabiri, Muhiddin, 1.1-1.2 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5 Karimov, Islam, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 Kazakhness repertoire, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5.1-5.2 , 6 , 7 and regime issue, 1.1-1.2 See also Astana Kazakhs, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 identity of, 1 , 2 repatriation of, 1.1-1.2 Kazakh SSR, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4

Kazakhstan architecture, 1 the Assembly of People of, 1 , 2 , 3 the Bolashak program of, 1 Central Asian state narrative of, 1 civic-national identity of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 , 5 Concept for the Formation of a State Identity, 1 Congress of World and Traditional Religions, 1 Constitution of 1995 of, 1 , 2 Doctrine of National Unity of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 ethnic nationalism in, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 ethnic Russians living in, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 “hybrid” state identity of, 1 , 2 ID cards in, 1 , 2 identity “brand” of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 inter-ethnic relations in, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 language policy of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 , 5.1-5.2 multi-nationalism rhetoric in, 1 national symbols of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 in OSCE, 1 revenge nationalism in, 1.1-1.2 state-sponsored cinema in, 1 , 2 Strategy 2050, 1 See also Astana See also Eurasianism See also Kazakhness repertoire See also Nazarbayev, Nursultan See also transnationalism repertoire Kazakhstanness repertoire, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 See also Eurasianism Kirgiz SSR, 1 Kyrgyz cultural traditions of, 1 , 2 ethnic identity of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 religious identity of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 See also religious convergence Kyrgyzstan historiography of, 1 history of, 1.1-1.2 Kyrgyz Christians in, 1 national symbols of, 1 politics of memory in, 1 , 2 , 3 Russian imperial rule of, 1 See also The 1916 Great Revolt in Turkestan See also Manas See also religious convergence

M Manas, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 Marx, Anthony, 1 , 2 , 3 modernism, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 myths creation of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 mythomoteur, 1.1-1.2 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4 of origin, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 See also ethnosymbolism

N national identity civic, 1 construction of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 dimensions of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 dynamics of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 ethnicized, 1 exclusivist, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 external aspects of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 impacts of, 1.1-1.2 , 2.1-2.2 perspectives on, 1.1-1.2 in pre-Soviet Central Asia, 1.1-1.2 in Soviet period, 1.1-1.2 , 2 See also Kazakhstan See also Kyrgyzstan See also Tajikistan See also Turkmenistan See also Uzbekistan nationalism, 1 dimensions of, 1.1-1.2 dynamics of, 1.1-1.2 in Central Asia, 1 , 2.1-2.2 explanations for, 1.1-1.2 See also constructivism See also modernism See also primordialism nationalist movements, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 national memory See politics of memory in Kyrgyzstan nation branding, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 international, 1 in Kazakhstan, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 in Turkmenistan, 1 , 2 , 3 See also Turkmenistan destination brand See also Tukrmenistan foreign policy nation building, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 See also Soviet Union national delimitation policy Navoi, Alisher, 1

Nazarbayev, Nursultan, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4.1-4.2 , 5.1-5.2 , 6 conception of Eurasianism by, 1 , 2 “Nazarbayevism” of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 See also Eurasianism See also Kazakhstan Niyazov, Saparmurad, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 See also Turkmenistan Nuri, Sayyed Abdullo, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4.1-4.2 See also Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan

O Oralmans See Kazakhs orientalism, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 othering, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 Ozbekchilik. See Uzbekness of Uzbeks

P Popular Front of Tajikistan See Tajikistan’s Civil War primordialism, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8

R Rahmon, Emomali, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5.1-5.2 , 6 , 7.1-7.2 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 regime of, 1 See also secularism in Tajikistan Rakhmonov See Rahmon regional cooperation, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7.1-7.2 , 8.1-8.2 , 9 religious conversion, 1 and issues of identity, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 Renan, Ernest, 1 , 2 Russia, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 Tsarist, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5 , 6 , 7 See also Soviet Union

S Said, Edward, 1 , 2 See also orientalism Samanid Dynasty See ethnogenesis of Tajiks Shaybanids See ethnogenesis of Uzbeks Smith, Anthony D., 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7.1-7.2 , 8 See also ethnosymbolism

Soviet national delimitation policy See Soviet Union nationalities policy Soviet Union, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 , 13 “friendship of people” ideology in, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 Korenizatsiia policy in, 1 , 2 , 3 nationalities policy in, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 Russification policy in, 1.1-1.2 Soviet historiography of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5 , 6

T Tajikistan Civil War in, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 historiography of, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 nation-building in, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 official national narrative of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5.1-5.2 , 6.1-6.2 , 7 relationship with Uzbekistan, 1 , 2 state sanctioned religious holidays, 1.1-1.2 ‘ulama in, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 , 5 Year of the Great Imam, 1 , 2.1-2.2 See also Aryanism See also Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan See also Samanid Dynasty Tajiks, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ethnogenesis of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 Tajik SSR, 1 , 2 Tamerlane See Amir Timur transnationalism repertoire, 1 , 2.1-2.2 , 3 , 4.1-4.2 See also Astana See also Nazarbayevism of Nazarbayev Transoxiana See Central Asia Turkistan See Central Asia Turkmen, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5.1-5.2 Turkmenistan Ashgabat, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 , 4 carpets as national brand of, 1.1-1.2 destination branding of, 1.1-1.2 energy policy of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 foreign policy of Positive Neutrality as national brand of, 1 , 2.1-2.2 foreign trade of, 1 horse breeding, 1 human rights in, 1 , 2 international image of, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 Rukhnama, 1 , 2 tourism in, 1 , 2 , 3 See also Berdymukhamedov, Gurbanguly; nation branding in Turkmenistan

Turkmen SSR, 1 Turks See ethnogenesis of Tajiks

U United Tajik Opposition See Tajikistan’s Civil War Urkun See The 1916 Great Revolt in Turkestan U.S.S.R See Soviet Union Uzbekistan, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 historiography of, 1.1-1.2 , 2.1-2.2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4.1-4.2 , 5.1-5.2 , 6 , 7 national narrative after independence, 1.1-1.2 , 2 , 3 See also ethnogenesis of Uzbeks; Shayvanids Uzbeks, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7.1-7.2 , 8 ethnogenesis of, 1 , 2 , 3.1-3.2 , 4.1-4.2 , 5.1-5.2 Uzbekness of, 1 , 2 , 3 See also historiography of Uzbekistan Uzbek SSR, 1 , 2 , 3 , 4

Z Zheltoksan riots See nationalist movements

About Contributors Aziz Burkhanov is an assistant professor at the Graduate School of Public Policy at Nazarbayev University (Astana, Kazakhstan). His research interests include nationalism and identity theories, national identity politics, and their perceptions in the public narratives in the former Soviet republics. Aminat Chokobaeva is a doctoral student at the Centre for Arab and Islamic Studies (Middle East and Central Asia) at Australian National University, where her research focuses on the politics of memory in Soviet Kyrgyzstan. Her dissertation examines early Soviet historiography of colonial Central Asia, looking in particular at the history of the 1916 revolt in Semirechye. Reuel R. Hanks is professor of geography at Oklahoma State University, and serves as the editor of the Journal of Central Asian Studies. Dr. Hanks was a Fulbright Scholar in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, in 1995. He has published more than twenty articles and book chapters covering the Central Asian realm on ethnic conflict and resolution, Islam, national identity construction, and political geography. He is the author of Uzbekistan (1999), an annotated bibliography in the World Bibliographical Series published by ABC-CLIO, Ltd; Central Asia: A Global Studies Handbook (2005); and Global Security Watch: Central Asia (2010). Marlene Laruelle is research professor at the Institute for European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies (IERES), the Elliott School of International Affairs, George Washington University and director of the Central Asian Program at IERES. She is a member of PONARS (Program on New Approaches to Research and Security in Eurasia), associate fellow at the Post-Soviet Studies Department at the Institute of Political Studies (Sciences Po) and at the Center for Russian, Caucasian, and EastEuropean Studies (CERCEC) at the School of Advanced Social Sciences Studies (EHESS), Paris, and researcher at EUCAM (Europe-Central Asia Monitoring), Brussels. Laruelle's research focuses on political and social evolutions, identity issues, critical geopolitics, nationalism, citizenship, and migration in Russia and Central Asia. Kirill Nourzhanov holds a PhD from the Australian National University and an MA from the Moscow State University. He is currently a senior lecturer at the Centre for Arab and Islamic Studies (The Middle East and Central Asia) at Australian National University. Dr. Nourzhanov’s areas of expertise include Russian and Eurasian history and politics, the strategic and security environment in Central Asia and the Caucasus, and Islamic radicalism. Dr. Nourzhanov has published widely in refereed academic journals, and contributed chapters to books on Central Asia. His most

recent book is Tajikistan: A Social and Political History (2013), co-authored with Christian Bleuer. Mariya Y. Omelicheva is an associate professor in the Department of Political Science and director of the Center for Russian, East European, and Eurasian Studies at the University of Kansas. Her primary research interests are human rights and counterterrorism, Russia’s foreign policy, regionalism and geopolitics in Eurasia, and democracy promotion in post-Soviet space. She has published extensively on these subjects. She is the author of Counterterrorism Policies in Central Asia (2011), which won an Outstanding Academic Title Award by Choice. David Radford is a research fellow and member of the Directorate at the Hawke Research Institute, University of South Australia, where he is also a lecturer in the Division of Education, Arts, and Social Sciences. Having completed his PhD in 2011, Dr. Radford’s research interests focus on identity and mobilities studies including ethnic and religious identity transformation in Central Asia, regional migration and national identity within Australia, and contemporary mobile lives. Dina Sharipova is an assistant professor of political science at KIMEP University in Almaty, Kazakhstan. She received her PhD from Indiana University, Bloomington in 2013. Dr. Sharipova’s research interests include state-building, formal and informal institutions, identity politics, and political parties and party systems in Central Asia. She published articles on political parties, elections, and security issues in Central Asia. Galym Zhussipbek is an independent scholar based in Almaty (Kazakhstan), a faculty member at Faculty of Economics and Administrative Sciences, Private Kazakh-Turkish Suleyman Demirel University in Almaty. Dr. Zhussipbek also works as an independent editor and expert in several analytical institutions. Dr. Zhussipbek’s main research interests are European security, security of the post-Soviet area, economic, social and religious situation in Central Asia, and state-religion relations.