Empire's Fall

August 20, 2012 marked twenty one year anniversary of the day when tanks rolled through the streets of Moscow. It was a fateful day indeed, which caused a disastrous chain reaction within the bolshevik empire when each of the Soviet republics declared their sovereignty. Unlike the American colonies of the British crown in the 17th Century, who chose to fight for their independence, for the former Soviet republics, especially those of southern peripheries, independence came reluctantly. None of the "istans" were ready for it, but they declared their separation one after another, effectively bringing the collapse of the empire to its completion.

If recent Olympic achievements are any indication, Kazakhs have fared better than their cousins in Central Asia since the end of Soviet rule in the region. Interesting to note that people whose ethnonym carries the most nomadic meaning, as qazaq means "wanderer" in Turkic languages, should be more progressive as independent country, while the earliest sedentary people, i.e. Tajiks, should behave so barbarically as to wage war with their own kind (both immediately after the declaration of independence and as recently as a month ago). I never liked politics and Soviet history is current events for me; it is not past enough, as the effects of the entire regime can still be felt throughout the current republics. For that reason, I find it difficult to talk about it all, and prefer to write about the ancient histories of the people who inhabit Central Asia. But the events of summer of 1991 are imprinted on my mind forever for several reasons, so perhaps I will comment on this after all.

Most immediate result of the independence was the need for each people to have individualized identities. Under the Soviet rule, there was one history for all fifteen republics, with the pre-1920s histories rarely discussed publicly or positively. Since 1991, every republic in Central Asia has been re-writing its own myth of origin and defining its identity. The paradox, for me, is how far everything is from reality, with the late Turkmenbashi's Ruhnoma as the most obvious example. In search of their identity, each republic began building of mosques in order to connect the people with their Muslim past. Interestingly, presidents of each of the republics kept the Soviet style of ruling, rather than returning to the old forms of emirates or khanatas. 

In the case of Tajikistan, the government searched in the 10th Century of what it came to call the Tajik identity. The year 999 (I bet numerologists are having a field trip with this) was the end of the Samanid rule, last Iranian speaking dynasty in the region, whose capital was in Bukhara. This period actually marks the formation of Tajik cultural identity, with the earliest known use of the word "tajik" and the completion of Shohnoma of Firdawsi, the book of origins of the Iranian peoples. Ironically, the 10th Century of modern era (BC, BCE, etc.) also marks the end of Sogdian culture in the region, where this ancient language is replaced completely by the Persian language infused with Arabic script. 

After numerous houses of prayers, building of statues seemed to be the next obvious choice for the newly independent republics.  The saddest thing in search of identity was the Tajik government's building of statue of the most prominent Samanid ruler in the capital of Tajikistan, whose face, as people noticed, oddly looks like the current president's. People are becoming aware of their past, but to built a large statue, with golden crown at the time when most of the population is in dire poverty is negligence in direct sense of the word. Ismoil Somoni was known to have been a good ruler and people of his domain stood on his shoulders; thousand years later, descendants of Somoni's subjects carry their president on their backs, young and old alike.

There is a statue of Amir Timur in Samarqand who is sitting on a throne with his menacing gaze onto the main boulevard of the city. Another statue of Timur riding a horse stands on a square in Tashkent. Karimov, the president of Uzbekistan, did not do what his neighbor did and make the face of Amir Timur look like his own, but he did sanction the building of the statues for the same reason. That is to say to establish the Uzbek identity by linking it to a well known historical figure. Amir Timur is indeed well known in the region, and around the world; who doesn't know Tamerlane? Even Chaucer wrote about him, so did Poe. But what is so bad about linking Tamerlane with the Uzbek people?

For one, Tamerlane was not Uzbek at all, he was only born on the territory of Uzbekistan. Timur was a Mongol from a clan known as Barlas. They were related to the Borjigin into which young Temujin was born, who later came to be known as Chingizkhan. Timur admired Chingizkhan so much that he wanted to be just like the Mongol conqueror, this was one reason several of his wives belonged to the Chingizkhanid house. Mongolian rulers were chosen by a kuriltai, a form of a nomadic council not unlike the modern majlis. Timur was never able to attain the full vote of the council, as he was not a direct descendant of Chingizkhan. So he humbly accepted the title of amir rather than khan, where the former is a subordinate to the latter.

In reality, Timur's militaristic abilities were unparalleled at the time, so he could have easily call himself Khan Timur. He had other abilities to be admired or despised, but the point I am trying to make is that his empire was overrun by the nomads from the north. They called themselves Shaybans, descendants of the fifth son of Jochi, the eldest son of Chingizkhan. Shaybanids, as they came to be known after they formed their kingdom over that of Timurids, were the "original" Uzbeks. That the president of Uzbekistan chose to built a statue to Amir Timur (Mongol) and not to the earliest known Uzbeks is a paradox to me (Uzbeks are also Mongols, but this is best left for another post). Karimov's choice is even more striking because almost no Uzbek I know will want to be associated with the Mongols, but they will admire the achievements of a figure without knowing who exactly Timur was. As 25% Uzbek (there's my mathematical inclination again), I admire Chingizkhan more than Amir Timur, and prefer calling the latter Tamerlane.

This post may seem like ranting of a mad student, but when I learned about the late Turkmenbashi's building of a statue in his own liking, made of gold, I can't think of any sensible person who wouldn't go mad at such news. The statue has been removed by the new president of Turkmenistan, but at one point it showed the "Father of Turkmen" pointing to the sun as it rotated. There are many such examples of selfish extravagant behavior exhibited by the leaders of Central Asian republic, and it depresses me every time I think about them all. So, I rather continue talking about ancient histories of our people, something that we can find useful for our future.

The last thing I will say is that I admire the achievements of the Kazakh people, even if those achievements were due to "better" geography. I also take my hats off to the Kyrgyz, who upon being dissatisfied with their president, ousted him from his position (I can't say I have a positive view of the events in Osh in 2010 between the Kyrgyz and Uzbeks). The poet Saadi once wrote that "only his name remains of the Tyrant," so we can only hope. May we all have the strength and patience of our ancestors.