The legacy of Central Asian writers who lived during the Soviet era is, at times, controversial. Their willingness to become part of the Soviet system -- and, in some cases, praise it -- troubles some people in the Central Asian states today.
But these writers appeared during a time when the majority of people in Central Asia became literate, and the Central Asian writers of the Soviet period played huge roles in developing alphabets and codifying the region's languages. It was they who put into words the thoughts and feelings of Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, Tajiks, Turkmen, and Uzbeks at a time when, for the first time, most of their populations could read.
"Few places on Earth have given literature the importance it has attained in Central Asia, where mighty and meek have for centuries composed, recited, listened to or read, and lived with the poetry which remained their constant companion."
-- Professor Edward Allworth, Columbia University
Allworth was one of the leading authorities on Central Asia and one of his great passions was Central Asian literature. So, when he penned the above quote in his book Central Asia: A Century Of Russian Rule (the 1967 edition, it's been updated a couple of times since then), his assessment carried significant weight.
His words still ring true, as the writers, poets, and bards of the region remain prominent today. In fact, anyone passing through any of the major cities and towns of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan would become familiar with the names of local literary greats, great and small.
During the time I was Allworth's student, I did not share his interest in Central Asian literature, which in hindsight I realize was a huge mistake.
The Central Eurasian Studies Society conference in Seattle in October 2017 featured a panel devoted to, and honoring, Allworth. Some of his former students presented papers.
I was one of them and, as a tribute to Allworth, I decided to do mine on Central Asia's writers and how they are remembered today. This piece essentially counts as my latest and/or last homework assignment for Allworth.
I make no claim to being an authority on this subject, and the few writers highlighted barely scratch the surface -- there are great number of worthy writers, poets, and bards. But it would be a mammoth work to compile information on even half of them.
I did have some fantastic help, though, and I acknowledge here those who were kind enough to share with me their extensive knowledge:
-- Begmyrat Bayryyev, MA in Media, Culture and Society from the Polish Academy of Sciences' Institute of Philosophy and Sociology;
-- Amanmurat Agha Bugayev, a member of Turkmenistan's Union of Writers from 1982 to 2001;
-- Hamid Ismailov, currently writer in residence at the BBC and formerly head of the Central Asian services at the BBC;
-- Tyntykbek Tchoroev, a Kyrgyz historian currently teaching at Kyrgyzstan's Jusup Balasagyn University;
-- And, of course, my colleagues in the Kazakh, Kyrgyz, Tajik, Turkmen, and Uzbek services at RFE/RL.
-- Bruce Pannier
Kazakhstan's great poet Abai died in 1904. He was from a well-to-do family and, had he been born 25 years later, might easily have been branded a "kulak" by Soviet authorities, who initially rejected Abai's work, referring to it as "semifeudal.'
But Abai had supporters among a younger generation of Kazakhs.
One was Mukhtar Omarhanuly Auezov (1897-1961). He lived in the Semey area, the same region of northeastern Kazakhstan as Abai. In fact, the two families were neighbors and had known each other for several generations. Auezov's father and grandfather often spoke about the poet and recited his verse to Auezov.
Auezov would be instrumental in changing Soviet authorities' opinion of Abai, and in 1932 he played a role in convincing Soviet officials to name the highest mountain outside Almaty Abai Peak.
Auezov was a prominent writer also, winning several Soviet awards for literature, including the Lenin Prize in 1959 for his most successful work, Abai Zholy (The Path Of Abai), which told the story of Abai's life. The work also became the core of the unofficial Kazakh national code, according to one Kazakh familiar with Kazakh literature.
The M.O. Auezov Kazakh State Drama Theater is in Almaty. There are streets and schools named after Auezov in Almaty, Astana, and Semey.
Auezov made another important contribution to Kazakh literature: He helped develop an alphabet for the Kazakh language.
However, it was Akhmet Baitursynov (1873-1937) who played the larger role in developing and codifying the Kazakh alphabet, first into Arabic script, then into Latin script. Baitursynov was the founder of a newspaper, Kazakh, that came out several years before the Bolshevik Revolution. He was a regular target of tsarist police, who considered the publication's nationalist message to be subversive. Baitursynov helped write and develop the platform for the Alash-Orda Party, which included a call for Kazakhs to be granted autonomy within the Russian Empire.
A teacher by training, Baitursynov also wrote textbooks for schools as well as other works on the cultural heritage of the Kazakh people.
His anti-tsarist material helped Baitursynov find favor within the communist regime and he occupied several positions in the Soviet regime in the 1920s, including deputy chairman of the Revolutionary Committee of the Kazakh Krai. But his early days as a Kazakh nationalist caught up to him in 1929, when he was arrested and exiled to Archangelsk Oblast in far northern Russia. He was released in 1934, but in 1937 he was arrested again for harboring "nationalist sentiments" and was executed.
Besides having a university named for him in Kustanay, which took part in recent efforts to revise the Kazakh alphabet, there is also a museum there dedicated to Baitursynov's life. His works, including Masa (Mosquito) and Qyryq Mysal (40 Proverbs), are taught in Kazakhstan's high schools.
Aaly Tokombaev (1904-1988) played a major role in standardizing the Kyrgyz alphabet.
Tokombaev graduated from the Central Asian State University (now the National University of Uzbekistan) in Tashkent in 1927 and later that year started publishing poetry. Among his early works were On Lenin (1927) and Flowers Of Labor (1932).
In the early 1930s, Tokombaev worked on his novel Urkun about the 1916 revolt against tsarist forces in what is today Kyrgyzstan. The communist government at first made use of the book as an example of tsarist abuse of the Central Asian people, but later the Kremlin worried about the anti-Russian sentiment it aroused in the Kyrgyz. Tokombaev was arrested in 1937 but was freed in 1939.
His future works were more cautious, but the history of the Kyrgyz people remained his favorite topic and much of the research being done in Kyrgyzstan today concerning the history of the Kyrgyz people builds on work Tokombaev started.
Chingiz Aitmatov (1928-2008) is simply one of the greatest contemporary authors and an obvious source of national pride for Kyrgyzstan. Aitmatov is so well known that we'll simply note there is an abundance of information about him out there.
Sadriddin Ayni (1876-1954) is credited with writing the first novel in the Tajik language, Dokhunda (Mountain Villager), in 1931. Other works such as Ghulomon (Slaves) and Jollodon-i Bukhara (The Executioners Of Bukhara) condemned the rule of the emirs of Bukhara, something that pleased the Soviet authorities, who were always quick to point to what the Soviet government regarded as the despotic rule of morally impoverished local governments of Central Asia's pre-Soviet period.
In Ayni's case, it was personal. He was a prisoner in Bukhara in 1917 and endured torture during his confinement, until he was liberated when Red Army troops seized the city.
He wrote about the Tajik national character, but he was more cautious than Tokombaev had been in writing about Urkun. Ayni was a member of the Supreme Soviet of the Tajik Soviet Socialist Republic for 20 years. He was the recipient of the Order of Lenin three times.
But Ayni's works on Tajik identity took on a special importance after the 1991 independence and have played a role in developing the Tajik national character. There is an Ayni district in Tajikistan's northern Sughd region, an Ayni Street in Dushanbe, and a military airport near Dushanbe is also named for Ayni.
The Uzbek government's treatment of Fitrat and Hamza is a statement on the policies of the late President Islam Karimov.
Abdurauf Fitrat (1886-1938) was inspired by the Young Turks movement in Turkey during his studies at Istanbul University in 1909-13. He returned to Bukhara in 1914 and became active in the Yeni Bukharlyar (Young Bukharans), a group based on the Young Turks that opposed the rule of the emir of Bukhara.
Fitrat also wrote dramas based on the lives of historical Central Asian figures, as in his 1919 play Oghuz Khan. He is known for writing about those particularly closely associated with Uzbek culture -- for example, Temurning Saghanasi (Temur's Mausoleum) and Ulugh Beg (the legendary Uzbek astronomer, also Emir Timur's grandson).
Fitrat's opposition to the Soviet Union's policy of stamping out religion, his association with the Young Turks, and later Young Bukharans proved to be his undoing. He was arrested in 1937 and executed in 1938.
He is well regarded in Uzbekistan today, with streets named after him in Tashkent and Bukhara. Karimov bestowed posthumous awards on Fitrat in the 1990s.
Hamza Hakimzoda Niyoziy, or simply Hamza (1889-1929), is credited with being the first Uzbek playwright but also with having made great contributions to modern Uzbek musical forms. During the 1920s, he also standardized the literary Uzbek language to replace the aged Chagatai language.
While other Central Asian writers may have found ways to work within the Soviet system, Hamza seemed to embrace it. His works in the 1920s chided Uzbeks for their superstitions and espoused topics such as women's rights and social equality. He was named a National Writer of the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic in 1926.
Hamza became an early Soviet martyr when he was stoned to death by a group of Islamic supporters in the town of Shohimardon in 1929.
Hamza was revered during Soviet times. Parks, streets, and even a metro station in Tashkent were named after him. But after 1991 independence, his name was removed from everything.
Turkmenistan has degenerated into an absurd state as concerns contemporary literature since independence.
Even the great Magtumguly has been moved into the background to make way for the books of Turkmenistan's presidents. Both the country's first president, Saparmurat Niyazov, and his successor, Gurbanguly Berdymukhammedov, have allegedly authored numerous works on a range of topics.
The apex of Niyazov's writings was Ruhnama (The Book Of The Soul), a collection of moral principles and guidelines for the Turkmen people, which in Niyazov's last years was praised by Turkmen officials as second in importance only to the Koran.
According to official claims, Berdymukhammedov has written more than 40 books on topics ranging from traditional Turkmen medicines (Berdymukhammedov was trained as a dentist), to tea, to the native Akhal horse, and so on.
These attempts to eclipse the classic Turkmen writers have not, at least so far, led to the removal of their names from places all around the country, however.
So there it is, a greatly abridged version of my presentation but hopefully something to pique the interest of other Central Asian scholars to provide more in-depth works on these important figures.