Uzbek feelings of ethnicity [A study of attitudes expressed in recent Uzbek literature] - Persée
been the most interesting and at the same time the most complex fou within a single . author notes: The objectively progressive role of Russia in relation to the. The literature on language planning in Uzbekistan has focused primarily on to a more complex relationship between language use and language planning. Russia–Uzbekistan relations are the bilateral relationship between Russia and Uzbekistan. Contents. 1 Overview; 2 See also; 3 References; 4 External links.
This story is about an Uzbek girl, Matluba, who has a pen-pal in Berlin. Matluba wonders about what kind of gift she might send this German friend; she first considers a pen which writes in three different colors.
Matluba rejects this idea. Trying to help her make a decision, Matluba's father tells her, "A person doesn't give something to a friend which he himself doesn't need; one should give something which he himself likes very much.
What do you like the best? Matluba decides to send her friend in Berlin her own favorite piyala— one which had the great "Uzbek" poet Xavoi's picture painted on it. These feelings are most frequently found in poetry, although they also occur in prose.
After all, even if Soviet peoples merged overnight, the natural setting of Uzbekistan would not be substantially altered. The odes to the beauty of the homeland are, however, significant in that they represent a form of attachment of the inhabitants of Uzbekistan to their land.
It is clear that some of this "patriotic Uzbek" poetry is written more to produce cotton rather than to strengthen their attachment to their native land. For example, a short poem by Ma"ruf Qariev entitled "You are my Uzbekistan" Ozbekistanimsan begins, "Hail, my republic, charming flowering meadow, home of the white gold. A particularly interesting example of this type of verse because of the focus of the sentiment is a short poem by Fazil Zahid entitled "Yashulli yurt.
Russia–Uzbekistan relations - Wikipedia
She sees that this region, which for ages has been downtrodden, now flourishes and yields record cotton harvests. The focus of this poem is significant because people of Khorezm, more than those in any other part of Uzbekistan, still maintain a separate sense of identity: One composition of this type is Nazira Salamova's "Uzbekistan.
Salanova coins words in her poem using the suffix "stan" land of and in this way calls Uzbekistan "Land of peace" Aramistan and "Land of spring" Baharistan. Some leave the boundaries of the homeland unstated. This is significant because many Uzbeks feel a greater attachment to " Western Turkestan" or "Central Asia" than they do to Uzbekistan. This is in addition to any feelings of Soviet patriotism which individual Uzbeks may or may not feel.
One example of verse with the "unstated homeland" is Madamin Davran's "In the embrace of my homeland" Yurtim quchaghida. This poem speaks of the "unequalled beauty" of the meadows of the homeland in the moonlight, of the brooks, streams and hills, the groves and gardens. This poet's "homeland" does not appear to be the USSR as a whole, but what exactly it is, each reader decides for himself.
Davran seems to be saying that those who share the admiration of this homeland with him should express their feelings. He ends each verse by asking, "If I do not write them, who will write these ghazal? Nevertheless, "homeland" is the most important word in the poem. In the first stanza of the work Annadurdiev observes birds flying and landing on tree branches; he thinks of how fascinating it would be to fly like a bird; in the second verse the poet writes of how a strong wind which blows tree branches startles the birds and sends them flying off.
In the third verse are Annadurdiev's reflections after the birds have flown away. Man has been inspired to build houses just as birds do and to fly and make music, he concludes, "But let us not learn, no let us not learn to abandon our homeland [Vatan, spelled with a capital "V"] as they do. This would also explain the logic of translating the poem from Turkmen and publishing it in an Uzbek newspaper. On the other hand, there is at present no possibility of a large migration of Turkmens outside of the USSR, although there is the chance that many could leave for other non-Central Asian republics of the Soviet Union.
In this light, the translation and publication in Uzbek appears an expression of regional attachment. This second explanation seems even more plausible, given the extreme difficulty which a poet would face in attempting to publish a more direct expression of regional pride. There are longer poetic works which sing praises to the Uzbek or Central Asian homeland.
Such longer works are bound to contain a required number of bows to Moscow, such as reminders that Uzbekistan has achieved greatness thanks to Lenin and the October Revolution, and that Uzbekistan is part of a larger country — the Soviet Union. A good example of this sort of work is Barat Bayqabilov's dastan epic "Child of the sun" Ouyash farzandi which is composed of one hundred sonnets. To imply that these verses are included by Bayqabilov merely to insure that the whole work would be accepted for publication would be misleading; there are undoubtedly many Uzbeks in whom at least some of sentiments find a genuine resonance.
Perhaps even Bayqabilov is sincere in his expression of them. However, there are numerous verses which focus on the particular wonders of Uzbekistan or parts of it and state clearly that the poet would not be happy anywhere else on earth. Nevertheless, this verse does seem to indicate a form of attachment by Uzbeks to their part of the USSR.
In the event immigration from Central Asia to another part of the Soviet Union receives more active encouragement at some future date, this kind of writing could be a clue of Uzbek sentiment to watch. Another theme which has appeared in Uzbek literature is related to pride in Uzbekistan but should be considered separately.
This is a warning that economic expediency in agriculture and industry may cause health problems for the residents of Uzbekistan and permanent damage to the Uzbek land and other natural resources. A recent decision of the Supreme Soviet of the Uzbek Republic, for example, reprimanded kolkhozes and sovkhozes for disregarding the norms set for use of chemicals on farms;51 potential buyers of melons were warned that the fruit from certain farms contained dangerously high amounts of chemicals.
One way in which this is treated is through highlighting the work of a minor character — a specialist who favors "biological control" of insects over chemical control.
At one point this person is even locked up by a short-sighted brigade-leader who does not want anyone interfering with the spreading of the chemicals. The greatest champion of environmental protection in the novel, however, is the chief protagonist himself, the irrigation specialist, Namurad Sha- muradov. One of Shamuradov's chief worries throughout Diyanat is the potential irreparable damage to the soil if the waters from the Ob are diverted to Uzbekistan; he is particularly distressed that many of the younger generation are not interested in the problems of conservation.
Shamuradov is not unequivocably opposed to diverting water from Siberian rivers, but he feels that not nearly enough research has been done on the subject to conclude that this project is safe.
In one of his books Shamuradov proposes not to allow rainwater to run off and evaporate, but rather to redirect it and keep it in the "reservoirs built by Uzbeks' ancestors. Mirabidov is one of the chief proponents of the water diversion project, and consequently his student's dissertation expresses similar views. Shamuradov goes to his great-nephew's dissertation defense and criticizes the conclusions that are presented.
Another of the major conflicts in Diyanat is between Shamuradov and his nephew Atakozi Khaydar's father. Atakozi is the president of a very successful collective farm; he is hard-working and ambitious, but often ignores problems which disturb his uncle.
Plans have already been drawn up for this and Atakozi is convinced of the economic benefits which this complex would bring to his farm. Shamuradov is so strongly opposed to the project that he writes a letter to the raion first secretary about it.
Yaqubov, the author, describes in detail the beauty of Mingbulaq Thousand springsthe area which is to be sacrificed for the new building; he presents the reader with the many fond memories of this area which Shamuradov has. As a child Shamuradov had come here and played; as an adult he had returned to rest here on periodic trips from Tashkent. As Shamuradov recalls this, his attention is suddenly diverted by the smell of exhaust fumes emitted by a truck loaded with building materials on its way to Mingbulaq.
Mentally Shamuradov accuses those who insist on building the livestock complex as "enemies of the people," but then, remembering the circumstances in which the label was pinned on him by others in the 's, he corrects himself; no, these people are merely short-sighted. They do this because they are ignorant people who "do not know the value of their own homeland, natural wealth or land and water. Ghaffariy entitled "Grief of the mother soil" Ana yer qayghusi.
Most of the short piece is devoted to the problem of raising cotton yields on the farms, and it is not until near the end of it that the jaundice and cotton are linked. At this point someone tells Bakhshulla-aka that last year jaundice was very widespread in his the speaker's raion because workers in a neighboring raion had improperly used certain chemicals.
Soon after this Bakhshulla- aka finds out that his son's condition is improving. When asked by a friend whether his son is well, he responds, "He's well, thanks to the doctors.
If only the doctors who heal our mother soil would work so well. Waste water from factories, when used for irrigation without proper purification, may for the first few years help achieve increased yields on a given plot of land, but in the long run chemicals from the untreated waste will collect in the soil and ruin it.
On one level this criticism is directed against a certain group of agricultural workers who ignore possible undesirable consequences of practices which they may allow. Perhaps, indeed, this is the primary focus of Ghaffariy's sketch. However, in a country such as the USSR where production goals are set by leaders in Moscow who have less concern for local health problems than for other goals a sketch like this may raise questions in some readers' minds about where the pressure comes from and how the decision is made to ignore everything except short-term production targets.
Ruining the soil of one's native land and sacrificing the health of children are high costs to pay for fulfilling this year's plan. This is particularly true because of the widespread Russian attitude that Soviet power has brought "civilization" to Turkestan. The usual Soviet history of Central Asia includes a description of the backwardness of the region which prevailed until the dawn of Soviet power.
Emphasis is usually placed on the "progressive" nature of the conquest of Turkestan by Russia and the eventual inclusion of the former Bukharan emirate and Khivan khanate in the USSR. By stressing the achievements of prominent native scientists and philosophers, Uzbeks refute the notion that they had no culture or glorious history until the arrival of Russians. Numerous articles about ibn Sina have appeared in all types of publications including those printed in Moscow and a competition was recently held for the best project of a monument to him.
An important detail about ibn Sina's works which has frequently been included in the recent articles is that these works were valuable not only to Eastern philosophers and scientists, but to those in Europe as well. One treatment points out that a treatise by ibn Sina on medicine was translated into Latin in the twelfth century; subsequently medicine in Europe was taught based on the Eastern scholar's writings.
Some of ibn Sina's thoughts were ignored by his contemporaries, only to be "rediscovered" by modern science. One of ibn Sina's works was considered so important that soon after the invention of the printing press it was published in Strasbourg; later editions appeared in Rome, Cairo, Teheran, and other cities.
Why not consider biographical sketches and even fictionalized accounts of the lives of great men of the past "just history? In the USSR, however, where there are "correct" and "incorrect" histories, the details of biographies of men like ibn Sina acquire significance which an American biography of Thomas Edison, for example, does not carry.
Given the context in which Uzbeks are constantly reminded of the ways in which European culture mostly through Russia has benefited them, glowing accounts of their own heroes stand out all the more; they give Uzbeks reason to feel that indigenous Central Asians contributed to world civilization long before "progressive" modern ideas arrived from Russia. This is not the first time in modern Uzbek history that attention has been focused on heroes of the distant past.
The native literati in the 's were also intrigued by the writers and philosophers of Central Asia. They, however, were criticized for their excessive fascination with these subjects, and after many were forced to cease work in this field.
Today there is a large interested population which is well-supplied with historical literature. Time constraints did not allow close examination in this study of individual works of the recent belles lettres literature which fictionalize the lives of historical figures; nevertheless, it is clear that there is a considerable body of such literature.
In addition to The Ulughbek treasure by Adil Yaqubov, there are such works as Mirmuhsin's novel The architect Me''mor ,ei which lauds the accomplishments of fifteenth- century Uzbek architects. A collection of short stories and short novels by another popular Uzbek writer, Mirkarim Asim was published in ; these works, too, were set in the distant past and portrayed the lives of great Uzbeks.
Works about the second half of the nineteenth century and the first thirty years of the twentieth might be particularly revealing. One issue which has many implications concerns the benefits which Central Asians received from the arrival of Russian power in Western Turkestan and its costs.
Here I will cite one interpretation of an event which uncovers the rather unorthodox feelings of the author.
The existing unsanitary conditions greatly contributed to the spread of the disease; moreover, the native population of the city understood neither the reasons for cholera nor measures which might be taken in order to halt its spread. The official history of this incident today does place some of the blame on the Russian administration for the usual colonial mistreatment of subject peoples, but it also scores the inciting of the ignorant masses by the local religious leaders.
We learn in Sharif Yusupov's treatment of this incident, however, that several of the leaders of the native uprising were friends of the Uzbek writer Furqat. This in itself is important because Furqat is a "progressive" native writer who is often cited in Soviet sources for his recognition of the benefits of European culture which were brought to Turkestan by the Russians. Moreover, in his article Yusupov emphasizes more than usual the mistreatment of the native population by the Russian colonizers as a cause of the cholera riots; he also points to the lack of understanding of the natives by the colonial administrators.
Yusupov's technique is particularly effective because he cites a letter from the Russian newspaper editor V. The cause is not just the cholera: Their dissatisfaction had been growing for some time and it had [all] been building up; then more dissatisfaction was added and suddenly the riot began. The last comment is not Ostroumov's; rather, it is Yusupov's.
It is totally extraneous except to express a rather strong personal opinion about the cause for the disturbance. In the context of Soviet historiography concerning the colonization of Western Turkestan by Russians, this comment is very significant.
It is probably not only a commentary on the Russian behavior in Central Asia at the end of the nineteenth century, but in the second half of the twentieth century as well. A look at the values of pseudo-modern and traditional Uzbeks Let us now turn attention to two themes which have frequently been treated by Uzbek authors in the same composition — religion and the "modern" Uzbek who has no understanding of his own cultural roots. Probably because of the Soviet government's attitude toward tradition and particularly religion the safest way for Uzbek authors to treat the subject in a positive light has been in an indirect manner.
It is inconceivable that a Soviet author in the 's would be allowed to have a work published in which he openly supported religious traditions and customs which the Soviet government has been opposing for decades.
There have been some hints, however, of a more flexible policy toward Islam in the USSR in recent times; for example, a review of a recent Soviet author's work on Islam noted that after having lost support in the leading areas of social life, "Islam has become a matter of personal conscience and affects only the sphere of personal life in the believer.
Two techniques used by Uzbek authors to urge a more tolerant attitude toward traditions including religious ones have been 1 portraying believers and other characters who are interested in traditions as good, honest, hardworking, patriotic Soviet citizens and 2 mocking Uzbeks who have tried to become "modern" men and women for their intolerance and for their ignorance of their own culture.
In Ibadinov's "By the lakeside"65 two girls go to a remote mountain village to record songs and tales. They stay there in the home of an old religious man and his wife. The loud call to prayer by the old man seems very strange to Gulnara, one of the girls; she asks the man's grandson, "Is he calling the stones to prayer? Those who drink the water of the lake to some extent thus also supposedly benefit. No, a modern Utopian, that's what your grandfather is.
And no one has the right so lightly to judge things which he doesn't understand. There are, however, much more subtle ways in which other authors accomplish the same effect. A short story by Mirmuhsin — "A pitcher of gold" Bir khumcha tilla 66 describes the thoughts of an old man who has found a vessel of gold coins in rubble after the Tashkent earthquake. Throughout the story the man carries on a mental argument whether he should keep the gold he has found or turn it in to the police.
Among the reasons which come to mind not to report the find of the treasure is that the government shares the money with all people — even the dishonest ones and those who try to model themselves after West Europeans. Many of the latter push their way down the street saying, "Pardon" in its English, French, etc.
In the end, though, the man recalls the ways his family has benefited from the Soviet government's generosity and therefore he decides to take his find to the police. Nevertheless Mirmuhsin appears to agree that the old man's concern about these young people who push along speaking foreign languages is legitimate. Mirmuhsin calls for respect for the Uzbek historical treasures through a television program which the hero of this story watches.
The speaker on the program criticizes architects who have allowed modern buildings to be constructed right behind the age-old architectural monuments in Bukhara and Khiva; this, the announcer says, has been to the detriment of the monuments.
Hearing this, the old man exclaims, "Bless your father. This the Koran is an entirely superfluous piece of information except to indicate that the man is in some way religious. Perhaps in a story like this one published in Pakistan or Turkey the detail would be of little importance; in the Soviet context, the linkage of the Koran to the honest old man — a loyal citizen of the USSR who was a model worker and lost a son in World War II — is significant.
Far from propagating atheism by depicting a greedy religious individual who takes advantage of others, Mirmuhsin suggests that the old man is not a worse Soviet citizen for being a believer. Adil Yaqubov in his novel Diyanat also addresses the question of religion. The title of the work itself has a double meaning. It can be understood as "honesty" or "with good conscience," but it also can mean "religiousness" or "piety. Yet on another level Shamuradov displays an inner piety.
In several places Yaqubov reminds the reader that Shamuradov at one time studied in a medresseh higher religious school. In his criticism of his nephew concerning the qari, Shamuradov claims that he is not opposed to qari in general, but just to semi-literate ones.
Moreover, Qudratkhoja, who is religious, is not portrayed as dangerous. Once again, an analysis of the use of Russian loanwords in context allows us to observe the multiple ways in which corpus planning and status planning are connected.
In this case we observe how the distribution of a particular morpheme across jumhuriyat vs. The main claim here is that the use of Russian loanwords in Uzbek language newspapers post-independence functions less as a means of modeling appropriate language use and more as a means of modeling appropriate linguistic and national ideology.
That is, the complex negotiation of loanword distribution across semantic fields and discourse contexts contributes to the ideologically loaded processes of iconization and erasure, which promote a particular vision of national identity and language ideology.
By demonstrating that the use of Russian loanwords can be used to discursively create a non-soviet Uzbek identity, this study has added to our understanding of why the use of a particular language cannot be equated to the endorsement of that language. While corpus planning may result in status planning, the relationship is not a direct, one-to-one correlation. Rather, as demonstrated in 5. The exploitation of the indexicalities of Russian discussed in this study is also informative in conceptualizing Russian in post-soviet Uzbekistan.
Although Uzbekistan was more aggressive in its de-russification than any of the other Central Asian States Pavlenkothe findings here suggest that Russian did not entirely lose its role in constructing national identity. This study focuses on the functions of Russian in government-controlled newspapers, which expands understandings of how language planning occurs across multiple levels of governmental and community authority, and how top down processes are mediated in highly censored contexts.
However, to more fully understand the ways in which post-soviet newspapers mediate language ideologies, as well as the functions of Russian within post-soviet Uzbekistan, it would be necessary to examine how the ideologies outlined here are taken up or resisted by the readers of newspapers.
Thanks also to the anonymous reviewers for their valuable feedback. All errors and omissions remain my own. Milliy tillar rivoji [Rebuilding: The development of ethnic languages]. Soviet Media in Transition: Structural and Economic Alternatives. Icelandic Legends of the Kraftaskald. Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, ed. The Linguistic Ideology of a Scholarly Tradition.
Strategies from the Periphery. Focus on English ed. John Benjamins Publishing Company. Language Planning and National Development: Problems of Language Law Implementation in Uzbekistan.
Nationalities Papers, 23 3: Essays in Honor of A. Language Planning from the Bottom Up, ed. Irvine, Judith and Susan Gal. School of American Research Press. Kaplan, Robert and Richard Baldauf Jr. Language Planning from Practice to Theory. Studies in the History and Culture of Soviet Uzbekistan. Nauk and Tashkent University Press. University of California Press. Research Possibilities on Group Bilingualism: International Center for Research on Bilingualism.
Landau, Jacob and Barbara Kellner-Heinkele. Politics of Language in the ex-Soviet Muslim States: University of Michigan Press. Turks and Tajiks in Central Asian History. Everyday Life in Central Asia: Past and Present, ed.
Glasnost, Perestroika and the Soviet Media. Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon: Lessons from Colonial Language Policy. Focus on English, ed.
The Uzbek Modernist, Abdullah Qodiriy. A Writer and His Novel
The New Central Asia: The Creation of Nations. Linguistic Culture and Language Policy. Language policy and Language Development in Multilingual Uzbekistan.
The Changing Politics of Language Choice, ed. Metapragmatic discourse and metapragmatic function. It is taught in schools throughout Uzbekistan, but it really takes a specialist to capture the aspects of the novel that go deeper than the romantic love between Otabek and Kumush.
Many descendants of the Jadids are still alive today. Among the descendants of reformers— historians, actors and actresses who knew Cholpan and acted out Othello for audiences in Tashkent in the s—can be counted patrons of the arts in Uzbekistan.
In Kokand, the son and grandson of Abidjanov, who established the first printing press in that city and agitated for the Kokand Autonomous Republic, are both alive and well.
In many senses, the intellectual elite of all former Soviet republics—both descendants of the Jadids and otherwise—found themselves engaged in an extremely dangerous balancing act. The tragedies of Soviet history were still very much a part of collective memory. Bad things could happen to good people. In many respects, the Jadids are symbolic of the first generation of Central Asians to articulate that pain. I therefore view the Jadids as one of the many groups of intellectuals that paid the ultimate price for the free expression of ideas.
Miniatures by Kamollidin Mirzaev and Qahramon Shoislomov. Did you receive any support? How do you like the film versions of the book produced during the Soviet era and during independence? I honestly think that I must be mentally ill to have pursued this project for so long…The language is dense and archaic, for one. So on a technical level, the opaque language used is a real pain to put into the proper context and intent of the author. Qodiriy was first and foremost a humorist: He was a modernist and a realist—if I can use those terms—and he wanted to create something that encapsulated the loss of all aspects of Central Asian culture.
So a translator has to capture that spirit but know when to break the rules and when to follow them! In terms of help: I am grateful to all of those who rendered aid. The book will have a huge acknowledgements page, but for now, the two editors— Umida Khikmatellaeva and Umida Hashimova—are first and foremost in my mind for immediate thanks. They held different roles as editors.
Umida Khikmatellaeva worked with me from the very beginning, even giving me grammar lessons in Tashkent in ; she has been the Oi Mullah of the project, offering advice and corrections. She is an institution and has helped legions of students over the years. Umida Hashimova has a genuinely scary level of persistence and talent. She would be the female Yigit of the project. You must always remain humble about and suspicious of your work.
That is the great challenge. What are your thoughts on how modern states preserve, alter, or censor Central Asian culture? I have 23 years of experience in Central Asia and I want to get it all out there in a format that is easy for people to access. I would like the site to become a platform for those interested in writing articles about Qodiriy and other Central Asian authors. Literature is sorely neglected in Central Asian studies and I want to contribute.
So I am happy to accommodate scholarly submissions! These experiences are deep-seated in the generation that lived it and should not be dismissed outright. After independence, some elites put certain heroes on pedestals for altruistic reasons, others not so much.