The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan 9781644692882

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THE HISTORY OF THE CIVIL WAR IN TAJIKISTAN

Central Asian Studies

Series Editor: Timothy May, University of North Georgia

THE HISTORY OF THE CIVIL WAR IN TAJIKISTAN IRA J BASHIRI

BOSTON 2020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Bashiri, Iraj, author.   Title: The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan / Iraj Bashiri.   Description: Boston : Academic Studies Press, 2020. | Series: Central Asian studies | Includes bibliographical references and index.  Identifiers: LCCN 2019051150 (print) | LCCN 2019051151 (ebook) | ISBN 9781644692875 (hardback) | ISBN 9781644692882 (adobe pdf)   Subjects: LCSH: Tajikistan--History. | Tajikistan--Politics and government. | Tajikistan--History--Civil War, 1992–1994. | Tajikistan--Social conditions. | Bashiri, Iraj. | Kenjaev, S. Classification: LCC DK928.6 .B38 2020  (print) | LCC DK928.6 (ebook) | DDC 958.6086--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019051150 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019051151

Copyright © 2020 Academic Studies Press All rights reserved. ISBN 978-1-64469-287-5 (hardback) ISBN 978-1-64469-288-2 (adobe pdf) Book design by PHi Business Solutions Limited. Cover design by Ivan Grave. Published by Academic Studies Press. 1577 Beacon Street Brookline, MA 02446, USA [email protected] www.academicstudiespress.com

Contents

1.  2.  3.  4.  5.  6.  7. 

The War Year The Emirate of Bukhara The Sovietization of Tajikistan End of an Era The Government of National Reconciliation Reinventing the Wheel The Path to Recovery

1 51 88 139 181 216 235

Appendix291 Glossary299 List of Abbreviations 307 Bibliography309 Index317

CHAPTER 1

The War Year INTRODUCTION

T

his chapter covers my acquaintance with Tajikistan (1990–2016), focusing on 1993 when, as the IREX resident scholar in Dushanbe, my wife and I spent a year in the city, at the time the only relatively safe place in the republic. The chapter begins with the preliminary steps that I took while looking for a suitable place in Central Asia to carry out research. For the purpose, I traveled to Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan to become acquainted with the region, and learn about the options that existed for carrying out research. The intention of the chapter is not to provide a comprehensive study of life in Dushanbe, but to understand how middle-class Tajiks lived under war circumstances, feeding their relatively large families, coping with low, stagnant salaries and constantly rising prices. It was also important for me to gather some facts about pre-Soviet Tajikistan in order to assess the impact of Soviet rule on Muslim Tajiks, an impact that over the decades had led to civil war.1 The chapter ends with my general thoughts about Tajikistan, the result of twelve trips I have made to work with Tajik academicians, colleagues, and friends, my supporters for nearly thirty years. I stayed abreast of the developments in the republic in order to follow the careers of people who were popular in 1993 but followed different paths soon after. More importantly, I wanted to assess the lives of those who made a difference through their own thoughts and assertions. Only then, I thought, would I be able to present the extent of their involvement, the amount of their contribution, and their strengths and weaknesses.   1 Cf. Asliddin Sohibnazar, Subhi Sitorakush (Dushanbe: Donish, 1997), 29.

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THE PREPARATION My acquaintance with the Tajiki language began in Ann Arbor in 1967 when I took a course on linguistic typology. I learned that Tajiki was an Indo-European language like the Persian of Iran. I also learned that it was spoken in one of the republics of the Soviet Union that at the time was behind the iron curtain. The first time I heard Tajiki and talked to actual Tajiks was in 1989 when movie director Marvorid Kosimova brought her movie Rohi Sapid to Minneapolis for screening.2 The theme of the movie was a gentle goodbye to both Tajikistan’s traditional culture and to the moribund Soviet state. Over a cup of coffee, Ms. Kosimova asked me if the Ministry of Education of Tajikistan were to invite me to Tajikistan for a short visit, would I consider traveling to Dushanbe. I said that I would. In subsequent months, her assistant, Vosse, kept in touch with me and, eventually, an invitation arrived. Extremely interested to see that part of the world, I began preparation for the trip. I also tried to learn as much as possible about the little known republic of Tajikistan. My most memorable recollection of Dushanbe at that time was the following description of the Varzob gorge: A sea of green among the highlands that have given birth to the Iranian race; where the Persian language is in its purest form and where tall Tajik men court gazelle-eyed beauties carrying jugs of water on their shoulders from the purest springs; the home of Rustam in the neighborhood of the legendary castle of Afrasiyab.

Oddly enough, at the time, I was involved in a study of Ferdowsi’s Shahname (book of kings), looking for elements that could distinguish the Central Asian Turks from the descendants of the legendary warrior prince, Tur. In any event, I decided to undertake the trip for three reasons. First, I had branched out of Iranian studies into Central Asian studies where I intended to develop courses that informed the students about events in Soviet Central Asia through hands-on research and observation. In that context, I wanted to examine the status of Islam in Central Asia after seventy years of conflict with communist ideology. Second, I had written a novella called the Black Tulip. Between Kosimova’s visit and the coming of the invitation, Vosse had translated the Persian version of the   2 Rohi Sapid (lit. “white road”) means “bon voyage.” It is said to a person who is embarking on a long journey.

The War Year

novella into Tajiki, but the censors would not allow its publication. The publishers thought my presence in Dushanbe might give them leverage to publish it. Third, I was looking for a place outside the Islamic Republic of Iran to continue my study of developments in Iranian identity. Tajikistan seemed an ideal place for that. I found the Tajiks to be extremely kind. They had not had much contact with people from the West, so both they and I were experiencing a new encounter. Although the Ministry had invited me only to participate in the Borbad celebration, soon after arrival I was separated from my colleagues who were going to conference venues. Instead, I was taken to Varzob and Hisor, the beautiful places that I had read about. I was worried, however, that I was not present at the meetings that I thought I should be attending. Saif Rahim explained. “Ustod,”3 he said. “Technically you are invited by the Ministry of Education to participate in the Borbad celebration. But in reality the Ministry invited you at the request of Kinostudio, our organization. So, we thought we should be the ones to set the agenda for your visit.” I was not aware of that arrangement. It turned out that during the last couple of decades, with the help of Davlat Khudonazarov and before that, with the assistance of Bentsiion Arievich Kimiiagarov, the studio had produced a series of films based on the stories in the Shahname. They wanted to bring those productions to the world market, and they thought I might be able to help in that. After a meeting with Davlat Khudonazarov and others to secure funds for dubbing the films into English, or adding subtitles as required, my work with the group ended for the time being. Thereafter, I joined my colleagues and presented my scheduled paper on the “Role of the Farr in Ferdowsi’s Shahname.” Furthermore, I was informed by the Academy that, in 1994, they intended to present my study entitled Ferdowsi’s Shahname: 1000 Years After at the forthcoming international congress on “The Shahname and Our Time.”4 Before leaving Tajikistan, at the airport, an old man approached me and asked me if I was Dr. Iraj Bashiri. I said I was. He introduced himself as Albert Khoromov.5 I did not know the name. When he asked, why I have come to   3 The term ustod means master, teacher, or professor. Here it is used as an honorific term establishing scholarly status for a guest.   4 Muhammad Osimi wrote “The Boundless Sea of Spirituality,” in Firdowsi’s Shahname: 1000 Years After, ed. and trans. Iraj Bashiri (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 1994), xxi, as an introduction to the volume.   5 Iraj Bashiri, Prominent Tajik Figures of the Twentieth Century (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 2002), 163–164.

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Tajikistan, I said, “I am here for the Borbad festival and am increasingly attracted to Sadriddin Aini and the revolution. I might come back to study Aini’s works.” “But I know you as a linguist, not a historian.” “Before I was in linguistics,” I said, “I was in literature. We live only once. During the past seventy years, something extremely significant happened here. I want to understand that. And I have a feeling that Aini can help me do that.” “There is definitely something here to understand, but it is not the revolution.” “What is it then?” I asked, out of curiosity. “Yaghnob,” he said. “Be the first to tell Americans about the people of Yaghnob.”6 “Like what?” “Like they look at your face and tell you what kind of a person you are. If you have a large mouth, they say you are clever; if you have a small mouth, you are shy and cowardly; if you have small teeth, you are a tightwad; and if your teeth are set far apart, you are a womanizer …” “So, it seems that when you talk to them they scan your face?” “They do,” he agreed. “If you have a long head, they consider you a liar; a round head, a rude person; and a large head, you are generous and wise.” “I guess,” I said jokingly, “all that is left out are the ears!” “No, they are not left out,” he said. “If you have large ears, you are a fraud …” Later, in 1993, I learned that Professor Khoromov passed away. He really did his best to focus my efforts on the people of Yaghnob, instead of on Tajiks as a whole, and he was quite persuasive. He even offered me a room in his house where I could stay and work with him on Yaghnob. Over the years I have learned how much he loved the Yaghnobis. In his honor, I wrote a short account on the Yaghnobis, their migration, and their language, but that was not what he was asking for. Back at the time, I returned from Tajikistan to Minneapolis with a buoyant air of accomplishment. After over twenty years of teaching about Samarqand and Bukhara without access to those ancient sources of cultural identity, there was an opportunity now to learn about them firsthand. The Tajiks, both in Kinostudio and at the Academy of Sciences of Tajikistan, met me with open arms, took me sightseeing, and suggested programs of cooperation. It was up to me now to decide what the next twenty years of my career should look like. 6 For more information on the beliefs and customs of the Yaghnobis, see Taghoimurod Yorzoda, Bavarha va Ta’birati Mardumi dar Zaboni Yaghnabi (Dushanbe: Payvand, 2010).

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I did not want to devote all my time to Tajikistan simply because of a visit. The other Central Asian republics, especially Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan were similarly interesting and, potentially, more fruitful for scholarship. A good part of the history of medieval Iran, all the way to the nineteenth century, was tied to the area. More importantly, the city of Samarqand that I had recently toured and the city of Bukhara that was still not ready to be presented to tourists, were now in Uzbekistan. I continued studying the region while keeping an eye on the events in the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics. Momentous events were reshaping lives in Eastern Europe, Russia, and Central Asia. Sometime in 1991, I had a visitor who introduced himself as Erlan Sagadiev, son of the president of the Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan. He asked if I had some time to talk to him about Central Asia. I said, talking about Central Asia was my job, and added that my guest seemed himself to come from those parts. I was correct: Sagadiev came from Kazakhstan, one of the republics that had recently gained their independence from the former Soviet Union. He traveled to the United States because he wanted to talk to scholars dealing with the region and explain a project that the Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan was considering to launch. He wanted to see if I would be interested in contributing to the project. I said I was already working on a project with the Academy of Sciences of Tajikistan, but I would be glad to listen to his project as well. It consisted of spending the summer of 1992 in Alma-Ata (now Almaty) as the guest of the Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan and writing an overview about life in the newly independent republic, covering its history, literature, and culture. The article was going to be an informative and unbiased piece about the republic and present Kazakhstan the way it was. Travel expenses were not covered, he said, but everything else for my stay would be provided by the Academy. I told the young man that the project was reasonable and that I would give it some thought before deciding whether it fit my future plans. The idea of writing about a republic I did not really know was intriguing. There were six Muslim republics all undergoing the same processes. More importantly, each of those republics presented a different set of issues and could give a different array of experiences. Would it not be great to write overviews about all of them and introduce them in the manner that the young man had put it, in an informative and even-handed way. Sagadiev was persuasive and urged me to give the matter due consideration. Eventually, I decided that Kazakhstan was the largest and richest of the Muslim republics of the former Soviet Union. Spending a summer there and

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learning about Kazakh life might be exactly what I needed to do at that juncture in my career. At the least, it would provide a point of contrast to any of the other republics on which I might choose to concentrate. I accepted the project. It was decided that the Academy would send my wife and me invitations, and we would fly to Almaty on our own. Before leaving Minneapolis, I would let them know the itinerary. For continuity, however, suffice it to say that we arrived in Almaty and found temporary lodgings in the Alatoo hotel. I was informed that the president of the Academy wanted to see me as soon as possible. The day that had started with arrival and accommodation in Alatoo ended quite differently than expected. Late in the afternoon, we left the hotel and went to the bazaar, where we asked for the way to the mosque. Most passersby either were unaware that the mosque was nearby or simply said they did not know. We decided to look for the mosque the next day. On the way to the hotel we stopped at a yurta and bought some rice and kabob for dinner.7 After eating, I felt sick. First we thought it would pass, but it got worse. I remember my wife Carol sitting on the bed saying, “What happens if something happens to you? I don’t know anyone here,” and I said, “This has happened before. Don’t worry.” It was most likely a reaction to something in the food, we never found out, what exactly. But it passed. The guide that was assigned to me helped me register at the entrance to the Academy. We then walked up two flights of stairs, past a large, white statue of Lenin, and through two beautifully carpeted halls and decorated walls. At the end of the corridor, the guide knocked on an exquisitely wrought mahogany door, ushered me into a large office, and remained behind the door. President Sagadiev met me in the middle of his office, shook my hand, and motioned to some chairs near a table, where we talked about my trip from Minneapolis, life in the United States, the University of Minnesota where I worked, my scholarly contributions, teaching, and publications. I answered all his questions and gave him some of my books that I had brought with me for the purpose. At the end of the meeting, the president said something that intrigued me. Never before had I been asked a question like that. “There is a custom in Kazakhstan,” he said, “to ask the guest a particular question. Can I ask you that question?” “By all means,” I said. “Please go ahead and ask.” “Is there a single thing,” he asked, “that the Academy could do for you to make your trip memorable? If there is, this is your chance to make it happen!”   7 Yurt or yurta is a round tent that can be pitched within a short time.

The War Year

As I said, this was an intriguing question—something that a genie in an Arabian Nights story would ask. What could I ask for? More practically, what was there to ask for? Then, without thinking what I was saying, I blurted out, “You have invited me to Kazakhstan to learn about Kazakh history and culture and to write about it. Is it possible to show me Kazakh life before it was changed by the Russians and the Soviets?” The president sat back, looked at me intently, and told me I was asking for the impossible. That life came to an end seventy years ago. Now the Kazakhs were settled people. No one lived in yurtas the way their forefathers did, not any more. I felt somewhat uncomfortable for having said what came to my head without restraint and was about to apologize. However, I stopped myself. I was a foreigner trying to understand their culture. How else was I going to learn their ways! A hush fell on our conversation. He got up, went to his working desk, and dialed a number, all the time drumming with his fingers on the desk as he waited. It took some time before a connection was made. He talked to someone in Kazakh and returned to the table with a smile. “It seems like something can be arranged,” he said. “They will let you know when. Meanwhile, have a good time in Almaty and learn about our history and culture. We seem to have been left out of things for too long.” After I returned from the Academy, Carol and I talked about the meeting and we decided to put some time aside every day in case there was a meeting or a party or something dealing with old Kazakh ways. But nothing of the sort happened. Days went by and I fell into the routine of going to the Academy and talking to various cadres (officials) who dealt with educational efforts of the Academy and their contributions to the improvement of Kazakh society and its global elevation. Working with the Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan and becoming familiar with its many branches, especially learning about the many exciting projects of the Kazakh scholars, was much more interesting and informative than I had expected. My objective, of course, was to see if there was enough substance in what I saw that could sustain my research for at least the next twenty or thirty years. In search of an answer to that question, I asked for information on people who had made a difference in shaping the Kazakh identity. In that regard, I studied Abai Kunanbayev’s life8 and his volumes, Abai’s Way, edited by   8 Iraj Bashiri, “Abai Kunanbayev,” in Encyclopedia of World Literature in the 20th Century, ed. Steven Serafin, 3rd ed. (Detroit: St. James Press, 1999), 677–678.

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Mukhtar Auezov. I looked into the works of Chokan Valikhanov, and visited the institute dedicated to Jambul Jabayev.9 I also visited the Muftiyyot of Kazakhstan and talked to the Mufti about the state of Islam in the republic. Everything was going smoothly and I was learning a lot, but still I saw no arrangements to show me Kazakh life as it had been in pre-Soviet times. Then, one morning, with just a few days left before our departure for Minneapolis, out of the blue, two cars pulled up in front of the apartment and we were told that the Academy had arranged for us to spend these last several days in the village of Shiyen. Several families in Shiyen had agreed to take time off and show us the old ways of life in Kazakhstan. The very thing I had asked for! One of three men, who were waiting for us by the cars told me that he was Iskandar Bek, my interpreter. The other two men were older than Iskandar Bek. One was introduced as Apsamat from the Department of Philosophy, the other as Joltas Khan from the Department of Journalism. Later, from the way they were received in Shiyen, I learned that they both were not only experienced scholars, but also from among the trusted friends of the president. Soon after this brief introduction, the cars headed east and, before long, left Almaty, moving along the foothills of the Alatoo range. The road was good. In the distance, on the body of Alatoo that resembled a sleeping panther, there were some irregular lines drawn up and down. I asked for an explanation. I was told that those were trails used by herders as they move their herds of horses in search of good grazing land. Also, they said, Issyk Kul is right across from where we were, only on the other side of the mountain. “You mean we could go on horseback from here to Issyk Kul in Kyrgyzstan?” I asked. “You surely can,” was the answer. On the way, Iskandar Bek briefly described our host family in Shiyen. Until not long ago this family had lived a nomadic life. Now they were settled. Their son still took the horses up the mountain for six months and stayed up there with them for the duration. The family was in charge of several milk stations located on the mountainside near the village. In Shiyen, the cars were parked next to a light gray metal wall. A wide, blue metal gate opened and a smiling young Kazakh lady stepped out and greeted us in English with a pleasant British accent. Her name was Altin Kiz (translated as “golden girl”). Iskandar Bek had mentioned her name but had not said that she spoke English. I was surprised and delighted at the same time. It was wonderful, I thought, especially that Carol now had someone to talk to.   9 For information on Auezov, Valikhonov, and Jabayev see Glossary.

The War Year

In the yard, we ritually washed our hands at a tap and dried them with towels offered by the host. We were then ushered into a room with a long table in the middle and chairs arranged as if for a seminar. Iskandar Bek explained that in the old days you would sit on the floor with a pillow supporting your back. I was about to sit somewhere in the middle of table, but they did not let me. Even though I was not the oldest male, I was asked to sit at the head of the table, in the place of honor farthest from the door. Carol was seated to my left and ­Joltas Khan to my right. Iskandar Bek, who needed to be close to me to interpret, was placed next to Carol. Apsamat was next to Joltas Khan. The host sat next to him. The older ladies in the family, who were allowed to participate, were at the far end of the table attending to the tea. First I thought this was a casual arrangement but, in time, I learned that it was traditional for family and guests to sit in this way when a guest of honor visited With the first round of tea, Joltas Khan began telling legends about the lives of Kazakh batirs (heroes), enumerating the exploits of many men and women who contributed to the shaping of the Kazakh nation. Every now and then Iskandar Bek translated the important parts of the narrative but, in general, he just told me Joltas Khan was recalling the deeds of the ancestors: batirs, beys (noble men), and biis (judges) well known throughout Central Asia. He systematically enumerated the exploits of each group and moved on to the next. That, Iskandar Bek explained, is how Kazakhs kept a record of their history. For me the whole narration was fascinating. But as hard as I tried, I could not provide a satisfactory context in which I could place those wonderful thoughts and keep them in my memory. I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information, all of it passed down orally by generations of Kazakhs to each other. After about two hours or so, there was a break. We left the room to stretch our legs and take some fresh air. In the yard, ladies were preparing lunch and children were playing next to them. Their working tables were in a line, and each lady had a particular task. The first one made the dough, rolled it out and cut it into the right sizes. The next one flattened it on the back of a very large tray and cut it into concentric circles beginning on the outside. The third lady cut the circles into specific lengths and folded them into a particular pattern. When enough shapes were ready, she took them to the cook who sat near a vat of very hot oil over an open fire pit. The cook put the cakes in the vat and watched them cook on one side then turned them over and browned them on the other side. At the end, she removed them and placed them on a tray ­covered with paper.

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At about 1:00 pm the main part of the lunch was placed on the table. When we returned to the room, everyone sat in their previous places. After the host said grace, which consisted of just a few words, including Allahu Akbar (“God is great”), and running the palms over the face, we began eating. The absence of vegetables and fruits was noteworthy. Tea was served with generous amounts of sugar and milk fresh from the cow. There was more milk than tea, but it was delicious. After lunch, the morning routine was repeated. This time, Apsamat talked about al-Farabi and his contributions to medicine, philosophy, and music. He emphasized the Kazakh government’s plan to create a medical university in the name of the sage and staff it with an international team of physicians and nurses. He also told us that, once back in Almaty, he planned take us to a particular museum where we could see all types of musical instruments, including the qopuz10 and large war drums. There, we would listen to reproductions of the sounds of all those instruments as if we were in a tuy (festive gathering) or in the battle field. At the end, he played the qopuz and sang a beautiful Kazakh ditty for us. During the break, in private, Altin Kiz talked informally about her life in the village. She had studied English on her own and was genuinely attracted to Shakespeare’s plays. More than anything, she was interested in StratfordUpon-Avon and the Old Vic. Fortunately, as an undergraduate student, I had majored in English literature and studied Shakespeare under British professors at Pahlavi University in Shiraz, Iran, and later at the University of Liverpool. I happily shared with her the information I had. Her real predicament, however, was something else. She was married to a young herder, who spoke neither Russian nor English, and even could not speak Kazakh well. Consequently, she had no one to relate to and spent most of her time with her children, educating them in the best way possible under Shiyen circumstances. I also got into a conversation with Iskandar Bek. His English was very good. Unlike Joltas Khan, was politically conservative. He did not say quite what his standing at the Academy was, but it was obvious that he had the respect of President Sagadiev. Our conversation was interrupted by the host who burst in through the front gate carrying a sheep. “He is going to kill that sheep in your honor,” Iskandar Bek said to me as the host walked by. I was taken aback. “No,” I said, “that can’t be. I won’t allow it.” “You have nothing to say about it,” Iskandar Bek said. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You said it is in my honor. What if I don’t want a poor animal to be killed for me?” 10 Qopuz is a fretless string instrument used by the Kazakh and Kyrgyz people.

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Iskandar Bek looked puzzled. Then in a calm and collected manner he said: “You claim that you don’t want to accept the sacrifice. Fine. But do you remember what your one request from the president was? Now, this butchering is the custom here. Forty households in Shiyen have been asked to host you each day until your tour as a guest of honor is over and you become a regular member of the community. Each family is going to kill a sheep in your honor. Are you planning to refuse to accept those offers, too?” I had no more to say. Iskandar Bek said, “Then let us go and watch.” We walked to the back of the house, stood in front of the barn and watched the poor creature butchered. Carol, with our bulky video camera, documented the event. Late in the afternoon, we were taken to the village cemetery. It was on a small hill a couple of blocks from the house. In fact, most of the cemeteries in the area that we passed during the visit were located on top of hills. A number of Kazakh youth, the casualties of the Soviet-Afghan war, were buried on that hill. Unlike the houses in Almaty, the houses on both sides of the main road in Shiyen did not have an air of permanence. Some of them had yurtas set up in the backyard, very much like garages. Here and there, more solid structures were being built. The landlord had stayed back to singe the sheep’s head and prepare it to be cooked for dinner. When we returned, he was about done with the singeing. He showed Carol and me to our room, where we stayed until about eight o’clock. Then the meeting began. This time I answered their questions about life in the United States, mostly about jobs, salaries, best places to live, the weather, and the like. Dinner, we were told, was served at midnight. While we were waiting, they began playing a game that could best be called an “ancestor’s game.” Everybody in the circle had to name as many members on his family tree as he could. Every Kazakh, I was told, must remember the names of at least seven ancestors. For some, it seemed, the game was easy and joyful. For some others, the younger generation in particular, it was not. Some could not go beyond the third or fourth generation. That made them embarrassed, frustrated, and at times abusive. At about 11:30, trays of food were brought in and placed in pre-determined places on the long table. Most of the food was the same fried cakes that were prepared in the morning. This time, however, there were trays of tomatoes, cucumbers, parsley, and other greens grown in their garden. There were also trays and plates full of meat, ostensibly from the sheep killed in the afternoon, with noodles around the edges. At the end, a special tray was brought in. On it, in the middle, was the singed head of the sheep that I had tried to save. The tray

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was placed directly in front of me, with the eyes in the head looking me directly in the eyes. I sat back and uncomfortably adjusted the tray. The host asked Apsamat to welcome us to his house on his behalf. Others, too, chimed in. I, in, turn thanked them for giving us the opportunity to visit their home, especially for going out of their way to recreate the old Kazakh way of life for us to see. Then I moved to fill my plate. Iskandar Bek drew my attention to himself. When I looked at him, he said, “Professor, it is your job as the guest of honor to divide the parts of the head among the guests. Before that, however,” he added, “put your finger in the right eye socket, pull the eye out, and eat it.” Even though Iskandar Bek’s gestures were quite expressive, I was not sure that I heard him right. “What?” I said. He repeated the same thing. I felt overwhelmed. The stress made my left hand shake visibly. Whenever I see the video that Carol made of the occasion, I am filled with amazement. “Why don’t you ask Joltas Khan to do that?” I asked. “He is the oldest.” Iskandar Bek said firmly, “He may be the oldest, but he is not the guest of honor.” Then without letting me add a word, he added, “Professor, I know this came as a surprise, but consider the case. This family has undergone a lot, doing things that they no longer do in their routine life to recreate a world that no longer exists. …” “All right,” I said. “It is the way of the land.” “Yes,” he said, “it is the way of the land.” Then, without thinking about what I actually was doing, I thrust my finger in the eye socket, took the eye out and placed it in my mouth. It did not have a distinct taste, but felt like chewing on an olive. Iskandar Bek then calmly said, “Now cut the left ear and place it on your wife’s plate.” I did that. “Now,” he continued, “cut the skin on the head and divide it among the people around the table according to how much you like each. …”

THE PATH FORWARD The trips to Tajikistan and Kazakhstan gave me an opportunity to review my activities of the past couple of decades and draw up a plan for my future. Twenty years of work on Iranian studies had provided me with a foundation in Iranian linguistics, literature, history, and culture. But I expected more. For instance, reading about Abai Kunanbayev of Kazakhstan had opened a new road before me. I wanted to know more about him, his tribe, his links with the Russian culture, and a whole host of other subjects. What motivated Abai to take on a task like familiarizing the Kazakh nation with European ways? However, that was

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only one side of the issue. The other side was my connection with Kazakh culture. How could I relate to the joys and sorrows, especially the aspirations of the protagonists in Abai’s world? I recalled the morning in Shiyen when Joltas Khan enumerated the exploits of Kazakh batirs, biis, and beys. I could not know how long it would take me to adjust my Turkish and speak the Kazakh language properly so that I could hold a meaningful conversation with Joltas Khan about the brave sons of Kazakhstan of whom he was so proud. Similarly, Chingiz Aitmatov from Kyrgyzstan showed lives absolutely unknown to me. His characters, Muslims, atheists, and communists, were unforgettable. They, too, belonged to a world that was extremely attractive for me. Yet I had difficulty relating to them as well. More exactly, I could not identify with them. They, too, belonged to a world that I felt comfortable to visit, but not a world in which I wanted to live. The review, eventually, brought me back to Tajikistan and the life of Sadriddin Aini. Aini was the type of individual with whom I could walk down the back alleys of Samarqand and Bukhara, chat over a piyolai choi (cup of tea) in a choikhona (teahouse) in Dushanbe, and exchange ideas about madrasas (theological school) in Isfahan. My world gravitated to his world, as it had gravitated before to the worlds of poets and intellectuals such as ‘Umar Khayyam, Jalal al-Din Rumi, Shams al-Din Hafiz, Muslih al-Din Sa’di, and Sadeq Hedayat. Aini’s experiences, I thought, would be able to do for me what Abai and Aitmatov’s stories could not. They could show me a way forward, helping me to uncover the layers that had obscured my vision of my own identity. Finally, I decided that I would dedicate a good portion of my life to the study of the Tajiks, concentrating on two things. First, I wanted to understand the dynamics of their struggle with communism. Second, I wished to know more about their unending struggle to maintain their identity in the face of centuries-long assault by Arab invaders propagating Islam. This complemented well my efforts to study Iranian identity by investigating all its facets including cosmology, mythology, and history. With this new vision, I prepared a proposal and submitted it to The International Research & Exchanges Board (IREX) for funding. I requested a one-year stipend so that I could carry out preliminary research to understand the process usually referred to as Sovietization. Once the application was accepted, Carol and I began preparation for the year-long trip before heading for Tajikistan. The preparation for going to Tajikistan for a year took some time. Being there for ten days as a guest was different from moving there to stay for a year. Besides, on that trip I was alone, but now Carol was accompanying me. The

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difference between living alone and living as a family had to be considered. For instance, we had to decide whether we should live in the “American” part of Dushanbe where there were supermarkets, continuous electricity, water, and comfortable furnished housing, or in the less affluent part of town where, in addition to possible lack of these amenities, there was a glaring lack of security to worry about. After looking at all those factors and the fact that I was interested in seeing the interactions between the Muslim Tajiks, Soviet (that is, communist and atheist) Tajiks, and non-ethnic Tajiks, we decided that we should live in the city but away from the “American” section. With all that figured out, we set about preparing the things we thought we will need to sustain us for a fortnight, while we were getting our bearings and getting used to the climate and the food. There were some things that were difficult to find in Dushanbe at the time. Those included things like powdered milk, toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo, and the like. In general, we had to think about things that usually do not come to mind first. Then, there were gifts. I did not know many people there, but my understanding was that, generally, even acquaintances expected gifts, especially from visitors coming from the United States. Those days, travel from Minneapolis to Dushanbe was not as easy as it is today or as it has been during the last couple of decades. From Minneapolis, we went to New York, from New York to Frankfurt and from there to Moscow. In Moscow, we went from the international airport (Sheremet’evo) to the provincial airport (Domodedovo). Eventually, we arrived in Almaty, and had to find our own way to Dushanbe. Our travel to Almaty on the whole went without any problems, except an unusually long delay in the airport in Aktau, a small town in Kazakhstan, on the east bank of the Caspian Sea. When flying over the Caspian, for a few seconds, it felt like the plane was pulled up momentarily and released. Then it became steady until it landed at Aktau. When our stay in Aktau took longer than expected, passengers became inquisitive. It was cold and uncomfortable, because the airport was not equipped for a large number of people. It turned out that the airplane that had brought us to Aktau had a malfunction and would not continue on to Almaty. A different plane, we were told, was on the way from Almaty to complete the trip but would take about three hours. When boarding the new plane, we saw that a good part of the tail of the disabled plane was missing. From Almaty we took the bus to Bishkek. In Bishkek, with the help of Vosse in Dushanbe and the Academy of Sciences of Kyrgyzstan we got visas

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for Tajikistan. For whatever reason, the visa specified that we should travel from Bishkek to Charjou, in Turkmenistan, and from there to Dushanbe. We therefore went to the Manas Airport, some distance from Bishkek, and bought two Bishkek-Charju-Dushanbe tickets. Then, at the hotel, I called Vosse to let him know the itinerary. He agreed to meet us at the airport. Then, a while later, Vosse called back and asked whether we had booked two Bishkek-Charju-Dushanbe tickets. Vosse was sure there was no such thing as a Charju-Dushanbe flight! Just to be on the safe side, he asked us to go to Manas airport and verify that there was a flight. At the airport, the girl who had sold me the tickets said, “Sir, you asked for two tickets with that specification and I gave you two tickets. Now you are saying there is no flight. That is a different issue. You need to talk with the manager about that.” I looked for the manager, who was nowhere to be found. When he appeared at last, he repeated the same line, as if I was at fault asking for that particular ticket. After a lot of back-and-forth with the airport authorities, they returned half the price of the tickets. The rest, they said, had already been spent. Since there was no direct flight to Dushanbe, the next option was taking the bus to Khujand with a changeover in Tashkent. The difficulty was that we could not buy bus tickets with our American passports. Out of necessity, I called a friend I knew at the Academy of Sciences of Kyrgyzstan. She bought two bus tickets for us. I knew that the problem with buying bus tickets will come up again in Tashkent, but I kept it to myself. The trip to Tashkent took twelve hours, including half an hour for fixing a puncture. We arrived in Tashkent at 6:00 am. The next bus was at eight o’clock. I asked Carol to stay with the luggage and went to buy two tickets for Khujand. The ticket seller asked for identification. I gave him our passports. He looked them over and said, “I don’t see a visa for Uzbekistan.” “As you can see,” I explained, “we have Bishkek-Charjou-Dushanbe visas. But we found out that there is no flight from Charjou to Dushanbe. We found that out only yesterday. Therefore, we had to buy bus tickets for Tashkent.” The man insisted on the visa. He handed the passports back to me and instructed us to wait until the offices opened at 8 am. The government authorities would come and decide what we needed to do. We told him that we were not planning on staying in Tashkent, we were in transit. If we could get the tickets, we would just get on the Khujand bus. He did not react. All that time, another man in the room was listening to us, but was not a part of the conversation. Seeing my despair, he joined the conversation.

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Addressing the ticket-seller, he said, “Remember, we did not have this visa business until recently. So people haven’t got used to it yet. He (pointing to me) is a guest. Give him the tickets.” Then he took me to the corner of the room and said, “If the authorities get involved, this can become complicated. Give the man something for his kindness and get your tickets.” I agreed to give the ticket-seller a small amount of dollars, took the tickets, thanked both men for their help, and joined Carol in the yard. Passengers for the Khujand bus were already gathering under the “Khujand” sign. Unlike the Bishkek-Tashkent bus, this was a smaller bus but not as crowded. We took two seats in the middle. Next to me across the aisle was a young man. He was talking with two others, who were sitting right behind him, about their experiences in Russia. I was glad that the problems in Tashkent did not prevent us from getting on this bus. The trip was not supposed to be long and the countryside was beautiful. Near Khujand, the bus was stopped for inspection. An officer boarded the bus and walked all the way to the end of the bus, observing the passengers. On his way back, he tapped me on the shoulder and told me to follow him. Outside the bus, he walked towards the luggage compartment that was already open and stood there. A couple of soldiers carrying guns stood at a distance. A couple of others were inspecting the passengers’ luggage. The officer asked me to identify my luggage. I pointed to one of the suitcases and, following his direction, opened it. He inspected the contents very carefully and told the conductor it could be returned to its place. I thought the inspection was completed and I could go ahead and board. But the officer said he was not done with me yet. Then, looking me intensely in the eyes, he asked, why I was going to Tajikistan. I said, “I am a scholar doing research on the works of Sadriddin Aini.” “Why in Tajikistan at this time? You know there is a war going on in Tajikistan?” “I am aware of it,” I said. “But I have nothing to do with the war. I am planning to stay in Dushanbe. And the books I need are found only in Tajikistan.” “You have not chosen a good time,” he said. “Good luck. You can board.” On the bus, the young men were curious about what the officer wanted. I told them he wanted to know why I am going to Tajikistan. “Why are you going to Tajikistan?” One of the two sitting in the back asked. “I’m going to Dushanbe to carry out research on the works of Sadriddin Aini.”

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“Why Aini?” He asked. “Why not Donish?” “It is a long story,” I said. “Maybe I will tell you about it sometime in the future.” “Where are you staying in Dushanbe?” They were a curious bunch and their questions kept me busy until we reached the next inspection post. I did not even get to tell Carol about my encounter with the inspector. At the second inspection post, I also had to go out, open the suitcase, answer the same questions, and board. Back on the bus, I simply said, “The same questions.” At the third and last inspection post, when the officer asked me to follow him, the young men stopped him. “Officer,” they said. “He is one of us. A guest of the Tajiks. He studies Sadriddin Aini. He wants to tell the world about him. You don’t worry. We will take care of him.” The officer put his right hand, open, on his chest, bowed down slightly, and left the bus. I thanked the young men. Before leaving the bus, they gave me their telephone numbers and asked me, once I have settled down, to call them to show me Dushanbe. Throughout all that, Carol sat next to me and did not utter a word. Nobody identified her as an American. They all, including the officers, thought she was Russian. From Khujand to Dushanbe we flew in a small propeller plane with fifty passengers. The fifty-five-minute flight took us over the turquoise blue water of the Syr Darya river. From there, the plane steadily climbed upwards until we were flying over some very high snowcapped mountains shimmering under the sun. We had just started to enjoy the majestic sight of those mountains before us, when the plane began to descend and the outskirts of the city of Dushanbe became visible. Vosse met us at the airport. As soon as he spotted us, he approached and after greetings said, “I have a taxi waiting over there. I will take care of everything. You just sit in the backseat and don’t say a word. I will explain everything at the hotel.” The questions of the inspectors at the checkpoints echoed in my head: “Why do you want to travel into a war zone?” As soon as Vosse got in, the taxi headed for the hotel. The Dushanbe going by us was not the city of two years ago. The streets were mostly deserted and the crossroads were full of gun-toting militia. As the taxi driver picked the safest route to Hotel Tajikistan, I was filled with apprehension. The hotel was in a miserable shape. The floor was dirty, couches and chairs were out of shape and out of place. At the desk, they took our passports, registered us and said that the registration would be good until we move out of the hotel. In the room, Vosse said, “Ustod, I am sorry about not warning you about the situation in

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Dushanbe. The war has taken a turn and has entered the city. People are afraid. They lock themselves up and avoid the streets even during the daylight hours. That’s why the streets are deserted!” This explained the tension that I first felt at the Manas airport. It continued with the ticket-seller in Tashkent, the checkpoints on the way to Khujand, and the taxi ride to the hotel. Together, it was all quite overwhelming. “What happened?” I asked Vosse. “I thought that the war was in Kulob-Qurghonteppa region in the south. I thought Dushanbe was safe.” “That’s how it was until recently Ustod. But things have quickly changed. A Kulobi-Khujandi coalition was formed. It defeated the opposition and pushed them north into Dushanbe and beyond. Everything outside the city is in their control. Then he added. “You are both tired. It has been a long day already. Rest for a while. I will come back and we can talk.” “Vosse,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me a week or so ago that the situation was fluid?” He said, “I thought you would change your mind about coming. Please don’t worry. We will take good care of you.” He then added, “Ustod, there are some changes that you need to make to your picture of Dushanbe. First, your movement in the city. You can go only as far as the Oktiabr’ Hotel. Aini, Varzob, all the way to Romit, all those areas are out of bounds. There is a curfew between 10:00 pm and early morning. During the day, the safest time to leave the hotel is between 10:00 am and 3:00 o’clock.” “What about housing for us?” I asked. “Did you see to that?” “I will get to that, but first things first. First and foremost, Davlat Khudonazarov has left Dushanbe. Do not mention him to anyone for any reason. Saif Rahim has separated himself from Kinostudio, or what is left of it, and is developing his own project. Jamshid and I, too, are no longer friends. He is making a documentary and I am working on the films that I have taken in various locations about the war.” When I met the employees of the Kinostudio two years ago, they were all exemplary friends. Everybody supported everyone else, or so it seemed. They cooperated very closely on various projects. It was hard to be a friend with one of them and not treat the others the same way. Hearing Vosse say all that in one breath made me extremely bewildered and sad. “Jamshid and you were very good friends. I’m sorry to hear that. Is there something I can do to reconcile you?” “No, Ustod,” Vosse said. “We were not really friends the way you understand friendship. We were comrades. All of us were comrades. But our comradeship

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was a façade. Behind that façade, friends took advantage of each other, but the custom dictated that we all keep quiet about such things. That state of affairs has ended and each one of us has to fend for himself, and that is what we are doing.” Since I was not familiar with the nuances of the culture yet, I did not pursue the subject any further. Instead, I asked about the housing arrangements again. “One last thing before the housing arrangement,” he said. “I have been reviewing in my mind the things to tell you when you arrive so that you become aware about the situation here. This one is about your work. You said that you intend to carry out research about the interaction of the Muslims and communists in the republic. My advice is that for the time being you do not use the word ‘Islam’ in your conversations.” “What should I do then?” I asked. “I have an IREX grant for which I have agreed to carry out this research.” “I don’t know, Ustod,” he said. “I am merely familiarizing you with the situation as it stands this minute. Tomorrow things may be different. I am sure you will work it out. Now, about the housing,” he continued. “The easiest of all. Near this hotel, there are a number of high buildings. One of my friends, whom we also call Ustod, has an apartment in one of them. It is available for rent. You can stay in that apartment for the year, or for as long as you wish. I have asked him to come here some time later. We can go over and see the apartment.” Ustod Sorbon came late in the afternoon to take us to the apartment. We had tea and talked. At about 7:00, we went to look at the apartment. The high-rise buildings were all painted in blue with a white trim. A cursory look showed that they had seen better days. Each had its own yard and playground, but there were no swings or, in fact, any kids there to play. The door to the building was also somewhat old and, from a security point of view, unreliable. Beyond the door there was a flight of stairs that went up all the way to the twelfth floor. Ustod Sorbon assured us that we will not need to use those stairs. “The building,” he said, “has two elevators and both are always in good working order.” The apartment, on the eleventh floor, was nice. It was carpeted, had a sofa and two chairs. Sorbon said the electricity was turned on, but there were no lights in the living room, bedroom, or the kitchen. However, Sorbon promised to bring a few bulbs tomorrow and fix the lights. The small bedroom had a middle-size bed and a small chest of drawers. The kitchen was equipped with a gas stove and bowls, plates, and utensils enough for the two of us. There was no refrigerator. The most attractive feature of the apartment was its picture window. It opened into a very beautiful panorama of snow-capped mountains. Sorbon

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boasted that we could sit at that window day in and day out and observe the seasons change! Nevertheless, he promised to bring a curtain for the window. When we came to negotiate the price, Sorbon said there was a shortage of gas. “As soon as there is gas,” he promised, “I will bring a refrigerator and a television that works.” At the end he added, “If you come to the conclusion that you do not want to move into this apartment, I have a different apartment, fully furnished with constant water, electricity, and gas that I can show you tomorrow. That apartment, however, is not in the city center, but a bus goes by every hour or so.” On the way out of the apartment I noticed that the apartment did not have either a solid door or a reliable lock. I mentioned that to Sorbon. He said he intended to replace the door altogether and install a heavy wooden door and a solid lock. At the door of the high building, Sorbon said goodbye and left. Vosse explained that Ustod Sorbon was a novelist and a research worker. He could, perhaps, help me with the first stages of my work by providing books from his private collection and possibly even guide me until I became acquainted with the Dushanbe Academy and the library. At the hotel, Carol and I weighed the pros and cons of moving into the apartment. The fact that it was on the eleventh floor was a concern. What if the elevator breaks down? We decided to look on the positive side and cross that bridge if and when we get there. Another concern was the uncertain situation with the refrigerator. Summer was on the way and we could not risk getting sick in a place that did not have adequate medical facilities. Then again, Ustod Sorbon had said that he would bring a refrigerator. We decided to trust him on that. On the positive side, the apartment was located in the type of neighborhood that I wanted and, more importantly, it was close to the center of the city and the embassy, which added security. When Vosse was leaving, I mentioned that something about the residents of the building bothered me, something vague that I could not put my finger on. “Your feelings are right,” he said. “And there is a reason for that. Before the war, even before that, some things happened that frightened the original occupiers of these buildings. They were mostly Russian, Ukrainian, or other Soviets. One reason was the language law that made Tajiki the official language, the other was the war that pitted them against the opposition. As a result, they abandoned their properties, or entrusted them to friends, and fled to their original homeland. In their absence, people from Kulob in the south moved into their apartments and made them their own. The Kulobis are not familiar with urban life. Maybe that is what your unconscious picked up. As

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for security, Kulobis are gentle. They will not harm you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bring you here.” After Vosse left, Carol and I had a frank conversation. I told her I was sorry to admit that the Tajikistan in which I made her interested was no longer there. Instead, we have come to a violent place. Even the friends that I talked about so much were no longer on good terms with each other. In fact, I am not sure how safe is that apartment on the eleventh floor of a high building occupied by Kulobis. I don’t know if I can trust some of the neighbors that I saw there. I suggest that maybe, as difficult as that might be, you take the first plane to Khujand. From there I can arrange things so you get to Almaty and, eventually home. Carol refused to listen to the rest of my arguments. “I do not agree, she said. We came here together, we will stay together here and, God willing, in a year we will leave here together. After all, you need someone to make sure that you are safe.” With that said, I had nothing to add. We decided to move to the apartment, establish a routine, and go about doing the job at hand.

THE WAR RHYTHM One of the drawbacks of living in a war zone is the inability to establish a routine and hold on to it. Several days after we moved to the apartment, we tried to set up a routine. The time before 10:00 am, was already decided. We were advised not to leave the apartment until then. So we decided to begin work after breakfast, which is usually early, and keep working until 10:00. My job was to read Aini’s Yoddoshtho (Reminiscences), a copy of which Sorbon had lent me from his private collection, take extensive notes, and provide a summary of the book. This was necessary because, once I gave the book back, I would not have access to it. I could not find the book in the bookstores. Carol’s job, among other things, was to type the notes on the computer. She also made sure to keep a separate copy in case the computer was lost or stolen. The choice of Aini as the first author to study was very good. When I received the book I thumbed through it to make sure that reading it would not be a waste of my time. It looked promising. I was looking for a book that dealt with the dynamics of the interaction between Islam and communism. The Yoddoshtho indirectly dealt with that subject, concentrating on life in Bukhara between 1868 and 1920. Aini showed that the ruler (amir), in order to protect his throne, had awarded special privileges to the ulema (religious authorities) and the army. Using those privileges, and helped by the army, the ulema introduced restrictive measures to deprive the masses from access to education.

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Those measures then had prompted a group of young Bukharans, Aini among them, to form a secret society to oppose the measures. Following the example of the Young Turks and the Volga Tatars, the young Bukharans also had called for reform in the bureaucracy, including land reform. Furthermore, Aini explained that at the time Bukhara was a Russian protectorate, the tsar chose a dual strategy. In the open, he sympathized with the reformists, but in secret, he strove to eliminate both the reformers and their foreign agitators. Russia’s increasing administrative involvement in Central Asia, accentuated by the conflict between the reformists and the traditionalists, forced the amir to introduce even more restrictive measures so that the mere reading of a newspaper incurred indefinite incarceration and seventy-five lashes. What I wanted to know was whether Aini discussed how the October Revolution affected those young people. It turned out that both the traditionalists and the reformists were catapulted into Central Asian and world politics. While the amir, in order to safeguard the integrity of the Shari’a (Islamic law) and to assure his own influence, as well as that of his ulema and army, joined the Basmachi bands in the east,11 the reformists joined the Soviets as Muslim socialists and nationalists. This overview assured me that the Yoddoshtho, along with the other contributions of Aini, will provide me with a proper background regarding the social, political, economical, and religious dynamics prevalent in Bukhara before and after the fall of the Russian Empire and the Emirate of Bukhara.

LIFE IN DUSHANBE By now we had walked around the neighborhood and I had shown Carol the places with which I was familiar, places that I had thought I might not see again. We walked down Rudaki Boulevard, saw Ferdowsi’s statue that had replaced Lenin’s, and visited the Academy of Sciences. We had already become familiar with the Barakat market where we bought bread, “greens,” fruit, and other things. We also looked for milk. There was no milk to be found. They said milk was brought to the buildings in the neighborhood early in the morning. We needed to keep an ear open for it. In subsequent days, I went to the Academy, and met Professors Askarali Rajabov and Kamol Aini, Sadriddin Aini’s son, who welcomed me and offered 11 For the Basmachis, see Glossary; see also A. Ahat Andican. Turkistan Struggle Abroad: From Jadidism to Independence (Harlem, The Netherlands: SOTA Publications, 2007), 132–140.

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assistance. I was also told that the vice-president of the Academy wanted to see me. I said I would be glad to meet him at any time. That was the routine set up for the mornings, at least until reading the Yoddoshtho was complete. I spent a good deal of the afternoons on writing a number of articles commissioned for the Encyclopedia of World Literature in the 20th Century. In order to gather information for this work, I had to use the library within the short time that was available. As far as the general state of things was concerned, everything was going well. It was late April, and most types of food were available. We did not have to go out of our way to buy the things we needed. The prices, too, were reasonable. 450 rubles for 30 eggs; 70 rubles for a kilo of meat; 80 rubles for a kilo of sugar; 185 rubles for a kilo of rice; and 15 rubles for a kilo of flour. Compared to prices in Almaty the previous year (150 rubles for 30 eggs and 40 rubles for a kilo of meat), they were somewhat high but acceptable.12 What was making life a bit difficult was that we still did not have a refrigerator and in the middle of the plenty, we had to go shopping almost every day. The milk situation, too, was becoming a concern. We were practically out of powdered milk that we had brought. No milkman visited the building. At the building we were told that the milk truck had not shown up recently because of a gas shortage. Finally, the milk truck appeared. It went around the block as the driver blew a big horn, announcing its arrival. Soon, a long line of people, pasuda (container) in hand, was formed. The elderly, who had been waiting there before the first sound of the horn, were at the head of the line. The truck served some fifty people, so the chance of not getting any milk was quite low. Again, without a refrigerator we could not keep milk beyond one day and the milk truck came erratically. Sorbon had been trying to bring us a refrigerator, but a car with a driver was not available, and there was no gas to be found. In addition to the refrigerator, he intended to bring us a television set, fix the door and lock, and put up the curtains. None of that happened. Seeing the workers in the bazaar, and on the streets of Dushanbe, reminded me of Aini’s portrayal of the laborers of Bukhara. He said the laborers were divided into two groups, the ozod (free) and the bonak (enslaved). The ozod were not tied to an owner, so, if work conditions were not satisfactory, they could seek employment elsewhere. The bonak, due to some need, had received 12 Ruble prices fluctuated a great deal in 1993. Here is an estimate: in January, one dollar was worth 417 rubles, in April 684, in June 994, and in December 1,231.

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an advance, so they were now indebted to the factory owner. Unable to cope with expenses and persuaded by the owner, the workers requested more advance and hence added to their debt. At the end, they became slaves of the owner. Bonak workers were bought and sold like animals. According to Aini, professions were attached to guilds, which themselves were grounded in religion. Each guild had a patron saint. The patron of the water carriers was Abbos13 who, in Karbala, had brought water to the party of al-Hussein.14 The patron of the horse groomers was Qanbar,15 who had served as a groom to Imam Ali’s horse.16 Religion also permeated the rules that governed the conduct of the professions. The clergy wrote the risolah (rulebook) which showed the workers and the members of the guilds how to execute their tasks. Transgression of these rules resulted in a fine. The activities of the guild were supervised by a bobo or aksakal (elder). In 1890 Bukhara, one could join the shoemakers’ guild, the water carriers’ guild, the horse groomers’ and carters’ guild, the jewelry guild (mostly Jews), or the weavers’ guild. I knew that the Soviet system had eliminated the ways by which the rich of Bukhara exploited the poor. But I was not sure whether the guilds still existed in some form. I asked the merchants in the bazaar. Their answers were confusing, which was understandable. Some sounded as if there were guilds in Dushanbe and they could not talk about them. Others jokingly referred to the whole Soviet system as a large guild. I felt that this issue needed exploration. Undoubtedly, some form of exploitation existed, but nobody wanted to discuss it in the open. In these circumstances, I remembered Vosse’s admonition regarding discussing Islam in public and changed the subject. Since the merchants worked for privately-owned farms (kolkhoz), state-owned farms (sovkhoz), and factory systems in a secular state, it was clear that the methods of exploitation would be drastically different. The question was, what were they? For me, at this juncture, the task at hand was to distinguish the new customs brought by the secular Soviet system from the traditional Islamic ways of the old system so that I could unmask the exploitative nature of the rules that controlled Soviet Tajiks. In other words, I needed to know, whether the Soviets restored the freedom that Islam had supposedly taken away from the people 13 For Abbos, see Glossary. 14 For al-Hussein, see Iraj Bashiri, Modern Iran: Caliphs, Kings, and Jurisprudents (San Diego, CA: Cognella, 2017), 51–52. 15 For Qanbar, see Glossary. 16 For Imam Ali, see Bashiri, Modern Iran, 30–33.

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of Tajikistan, or whether they had imposed new rules of their own with the same outcome. Fortunately, after seventy years of labor of love, the Tajiks had been awakened to the reality of Soviet exploitation. They had realized that the game stayed the same. Only the euphoria of the new system has masked its real appearance.17 With that said, it must be admitted that the Soviets contributed immensely to developing healthcare, education, and law and order in ­Tajikistan. A comparison with neighboring Afghanistan proves that. But the Soviets also became the impetus that drove the Tajiks to arts and agriculture and away from science and technology. A war raging among the people of the same nation cannot claim a winner, but it can generate hostilities that might last for generations. In Tajikistan, in 1993, the actual civil war had ended, but the consequences of the war, the settling of scores, went on for much longer. The Tajiks were settling their interregional, inter-ethnic, inter-faith, and inter-personal scores. There were rumors that young Badakhshanis in small groups stopped buses traveling between Badakhshan and Kulob. They asked all the Kulobis to get off before they allowed the bus to continue. The bodies of some people they had asked to leave the bus were found on the outskirts or in the alleys of their hometowns. Some were never found. Similarly, Kulobi youths were accused of eliminating Badakhshanis. It is noteworthy that the Kulobis and Badakhshanis have distinct dialects and distinct native clothing and, therefore, not difficult at all for one to recognize the other. This blood feud, I was told, went back all the way to the 1960s. The war atrocities taking place in Dushanbe were shocking, actions of a society that had lost its grip on education. Throngs of students gathered in front of colleges and schools. Their teachers had joined import and export businesses or other activities. Unhappy with the system, the youth joined gangs and mounted raids on the unwary populations of towns and villages. They had lost hope and did not see anything beyond the money they could make on the street. The libraries were deserted, the factories were empty, fields were abandoned, and schools were without teachers. Tajik youths were let loose on society.18 How different were those youths from their counterparts who lived before Sovietization in the Emirate of Bukhara? To begin with, what kind of education was available to them in that earlier time? According to Aini, the Bukharan schools did not confer diplomas and they did not train specialists,

17 For further discussion, see passages on nomenklatura and cadre systems in Chapter Six. 18 Emomali Rahmonov, Tojikon dar Oinai Ta’rikh (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1997), 58.

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except in religious matters.19 The feudalist nature of the society presented the school environment in such a way that on the outside it appeared progressive; but, on the inside there were inadequacies in both instruction and lodging. Even though the system was supported by the awqof (endowments), which necessarily meant free education, students had to either buy or rent their quarters.20 Such was the influence of the bazaar on the educational affairs of Bukhara. Ironically, it all had started as a benevolent gesture on the part of the merchants and the clergy who had proposed to repair the dilapidated structures and provide adequate housing. The curriculum consisted of morphology and syntax of Arabic; logic; kalom (theology); hikmat (wisdom), both tabii (natural) and ilahi (divine); fiqh (jurisprudence); pillars; transactions; and altercations.21 Mathematics was optional and literature was left to individual discretion. The Tajiki and Uzbeki languages, used as tools for teaching the above subjects, were not taught by themselves. They were considered a part of the student’s life experience. The academic year was six months long (September 22 to March 22), which allowed students who came to Bukhara from the surrounding villages to help their parents with work in the fields. The school week was three or four days long depending on the health of the aged teachers. As a rule, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were off days. The prerequisite for attending classes was completion of the elementary level. The first level (three years), taught by a lecturer, was spent on the Arabic language. The second level (five years), taught by a professor, was spent on advanced Arabic and logic. The third level (eleven years) was spent on logic, kalom, and phenomenology. In sum, after nineteen years the students gained mastery of the Arabic language and memorized the commentaries presented by their instructors.22 The differences between the two educational systems were apparent. While during the rule of the amirs only the male progeny of the upper echelon of society attended school, during the Soviet era education was available to all. There were questions regarding the type of education, but not regarding its availability. In fact, education for all was an integral part of the articles of the Communist Manifesto, and the Soviets adhered to it very closely. 19 Sadriddin Aini, Yoddoshtho, ed. Saidi Sirjani (Tehran: Agah Publishers, 1984), 159. 20 Ibid., 160. 21 Pillars, transactions, and altercations are a major part of the Shari’a. For details, see Bashiri, Modern Iran, 16–17. 22 Bashiri, Modern Iranian Philosophy (San Diego, CA: Cognella, 2014), 87.

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It was clear from the Yoddoshtho that the amirs were using the theological, jurisprudential, ethical, educational, and political aspects of Islam in innovative ways such as purchasing, renting, and selling school property, which helped them keep the various levels of society under their full control. Fear of the executioner made sure that the will of the amir was paramount. What I needed to understand, after analyzing Aini’s meticulous description of Bukharan life before Sovietization, was to what degree atheism and the CPT had been able to retain the levers of power that the amirs had used to control their subjects. It turned out that although the Soviets criticized the amirs for backwardness, tyrannous acts, and exploitation of the masses, their own governmental rules left much to be desired.23 It was fascinating to sit in the corner of the choikhona and listen to people discuss the war. To them the war was a feud between the Wufchiks and the Iurchiks. Wufchik was a reference to Muslims. It included all Muslims (Sunni Hanafi, Shafi’i, Shi’ite Isma’ili, Twelver, and Sufi) as a whole. This crude reference identified all Muslims in Tajikistan with a small community of strict Muslims, the Wahhabis, who lived in the Tavildara area in the south. Iurchik was a reference to communists and atheists. The Iurchiks claimed that the Wufchiks kidnapped individuals, took them down to basements of certain buildings, and tortured them to death in a most gruesome manner. At the end, mutilated bodies were thrown out into the alleys for the next of kin to find and bury. Similarly, the Wufchiks talked about how Iurchiks tortured opposition members, questioning them about their leaders and associates. Listening to them, I could see a clear analogy to the struggle between the Sunni and the Shi’i Muslims of Bukhara, which paid great dividend to the treasury of the amirs. During the time of the amirs, the Sunni majority vanquished the Shi’ite minority every time. In the 1990s, when the Tajiks were talking in the choikhonas (teahouses), Islam was no longer a divided ideology. Soviet social engineers, therefore, had to create a Wahhabi monolith as the menace that threatened the very existence of the Soviet State. Wahhabism, of course, is well known throughout of the world as the strictest variety of Islam. What communist would want to be ruled over by a Wahhabi? Hence the animosity with which the civil war was fought and the ferocity with which the Muslims and the communists decimated each other’s ranks.24 23 For further information, see passages on perestroika and glasnost′ in Chapter Six. 24 For further information, see discussion of Islam in Chapter Six.

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Comparing the era of the amirs as described by Sadriddin Aini with post-Soviet era as described by Jalol Ikromi25 and Akbar Tursunov,26 it becomes clear that all the social, ethical, and aesthetic levers necessary to keep the Tajiks away from advancement in scientific fields already existed in Tajik society. The Soviets needed only to find innovative techniques to mask their exploitative ways and, using the same levers, exploit the same human and material resources for another seventy years. In the past, I had worked with the sonnets of Hafiz and the odes of Rumi. Those pieces were mostly understood on two distinct levels—a mundane level for which the public at large revered their creators and a mystic level that attracted the intense attention of the scholars. Aini’s works do not have a mystic level. Nevertheless, they speak to the reader in a similar manner. They can be read as the best discussion of life in the Bukhara of the amirs, describing its bazaars, madrasas, social mores, and socio-political interactions. As such, they can also give a basis for understanding the Soviet life that followed. On one side, Aini’s condemnation of the amirs paints the darkest picture possible of pre-Soviet Bukhara. On another side, his unbridled praise for the Soviet system, especially in his lyrics, shows how bedazzled he was regarding the Soviet system and how uncritical he remained in the face of Soviet atrocities in southern Tajikistan. After all, for the ordinary Tajik, the Soviet life was not much different than for the ordinary Kyrgyz. Yet, Aini and Chingiz Aitmatov saw the lives of the ordinary people in their republics in very different lights. In other words, Aini, who was so unhappy about the schools of Bukhara and considered them a waste of the students’ life, saw no harm in an educational system that trained students only for work in kolkhozes and sovkhozes and gave them no access to aspects of education that could make them active contributors to an independent, progressive society. These were some of the thoughts that occupied my mind during those early days and weeks in Dushanbe. The specter of war became more visible when we went to the United States embassy to register. The first question was, “Have you registered with the city?” I said that the Academy of Sciences was taking care of that. The next question was, “Didn’t anyone tell you that there was a war going on in Tajikistan? How 25 For Jalol Ikromi’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 125–128. 26 Akbar Tursunov, “From the Ashes,” in End of Empire: 15 New Works for the 15 Republics of the Former Soviet Union, trans. Iraj Bashiri (New York: Rosen Publishing Group, ICARUS 16, Winter 1995), 97–108.

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did you get here?” I repeated the story of IREX and my research, and once again stated that I did not have any intention of going outside Dushanbe. The embassy officers told me, “Not going out of Dushanbe would have made sense a month or so ago, but now Dushanbe is the battlefield.” I said, “I am aware of that. We can always take the next plane to Khujand and go back.” “No. No need for that. Welcome to Tajikistan. In the next room, they will register you and give you security directions. Follow the directions closely.” In the next room, the security officer told us to keep a low profile. On days that the embassy called us and alerted us of possible danger, we were to stay in place and not appear on the street. We had to keep a working telephone near us at all times. If the embassy asked us to appear at a certain place at a certain time, we had to leave whatever we were doing and come to that place. Otherwise, the officer claimed, we would be left behind and we would be on our own. Once all instructions were given, the officer told me to make sure to wear a tie at all times. Then, before we left, he asked, “You are familiar with the history and culture of this place, are you not?” “I am,” I said. “The American and European communities here will appreciate it if you could run a couple of information sessions. We can make the arrangements.” “That’s fine with me,” I said. “You have my telephone number.” “By the way,” he said. “We do not have a hospital, but if you need any firstaid type medicine, our doctor will be happy to help. Also, if there are any other similar needs, especially during winter, make sure to let us know. We will try to help.” Talking to the security officer heightened my worries, especially as we still lived on the eleventh floor in an apartment with a flimsy door and a broken lock. Not even a curtain to keep us from sitting in the middle of the street. Whether or not, under the circumstances, we should stay in the apartment and, following our plan, experience Tajik life as it is lived by middle class Tajiks, or move to the “European” side remained a question. Needless to say, each option had positive and negative points. Then an incident happened that helped us make up our mind. For a while we kept perishables in the bathtub filled with cold murky water. But, as the weather warmed up, that option became unworkable. First, the meat went bad, then the milk, and finally, the vegetables. One morning, standing in the milk line, Carol had mentioned the refrigerator problem to one of the ladies who lived across from us in the next building. The neighbor repeated it to the

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lady who lived directly below us. The next day, the latter offered us to use a part of her refrigerator. This was a great help because it was hard to find meat every time that we went to the bazaar. Now, when there was meat, we could buy a larger amount. Vegetables were available, and the milk truck visited, even if irregularly. The only problem with getting milk was getting to the truck in time. A task that became difficult once the Ukrainian man in charge of the elevators locked the door to his office and left. No one could get in to maintain the elevators. From then on, every time we went out we had to make sure that we had everything we needed. There was no going back to get something. In the case of milk, whoever went down eleven flights of stairs in the dark had to climb up them right after getting the milk. Taking the meat downstairs and picking it up gave Carol a chance to befriend the neighbor. She was a nice Uzbek lady, an architect who worked from home. Her husband was Tajik, a doctor of biology and a graduate of Tajikistan University. He dealt with snakes, especially poisonous types, and taught ecology. They had three children. The couple grew organic plants and vegetables in their dacha (private garden) on the edge of town. Carol also got to talk to the oldest child and found out that he was struggling with his English. One night we were invited downstairs for a Tajik dinner. The husband, I found, was well versed in the workings of socialism in Tajikistan. He agreed to talk to me about local culture, especially how Tajiks related to each other. In exchange, they requested that Carol spend some time with the kids and help them improve their English. By this time, I had finished reading the Yoddoshtho. I asked Sorbon to bring me a book dealing with Tajikistan in post-Soviet times. He brought me another book by Aini, called Ghulomon (Slaves). He handed me the book and said, “Ustod, Aini’s books are interpreted differently by different individuals. The interpretation of this book by present-day Tajik intellectuals is interesting. You asked for a book that deals with Tajiks in post-Soviet times and I have brought you one: Ghulomon. Enjoy reading it.” I found Ghulomon to be a semi-historical novel, showing a less gentle aspect of life in Bukhara between the era of Amir Haidar (1802–1826) and the establishment of Soviet power leading to the formation of the kolkhoz system. The titular slaves were captured by Turkmens from among the Sunni population of Khurasan. They were taught Shi’i customs and rituals, and sold in the markets of Bukhara, Shahrisabz, Qarshi, and Khiva. Aini not only described the lives of the slaves, but also talked about slave traders, caravaneers, and the relationship of each to the amir, and to the amir’s ra’is (mayor), amlokdor (land manager),

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and mirshab (police). The slaves were exploited sexually. For instance, the boi (master) has four nikohi (concubine) wives and many sufi (divorcée) wives who double as laborers in his fields. By marrying their male slaves to the females, the bois increased the number of their house-slaves. Then a time came when slavery was banned. The slaves moved out of the owners’ houses and created slave colonies to fend for themselves and raise their children. The children of the slaves ended up serving the descendants of the bois, this time as peasants and workers. The slaves that tried to provide for their families independently were hunted down and eliminated. As values in society changed, masses in Bukhara sought access to the sources of knowledge and political dexterity as opposed to trying to become land owners. Consequently, the schools in Bukhara became targets of the bois who bought into them in order to control the direction of the education of the masses. By promoting the ishons (clergy) and the rituals they perpetrated, the bois kept the masses ignorant. New ideas, however, seeped in and set the stage for a real confrontation between the old and the new. Eventually, Aini’s story reached the time of Amir Olim Khan and the 1917 revolution. Frightened by the rise of the Jadidist (modernist) movement, especially between 1917 and 1920, Olim Khan targets the sources from which the Jadidists and the Bolsheviks could draw human resources. The slaves, now mostly small landholders, workers, and vagrants, became targets of manhunts and extermination. Former slaves were summarily executed to diminish the threat of a possible change of power in Bukhara, in the same way that it happened in Russia. The children of the slaves, however, were saved by the children of the intellectuals, administrators, and landowners who saw the prosperity of Bukhara not in suppressing the people, but in a genuine renewal of the educational system of the kingdom and in infusing new blood into Bukharan life. I finished the reading, but saw nothing in this book that related it to contemporary Tajik society. Yet Sorbon’s words regarding the Tajik intellectuals’ interpretation of the novel remained fresh in my mind. In addition to the books that Sorbon brought, I also spent a part of the morning on finding newspapers. They did not appear regularly or on time. So, while looking for food and visits to the Academy and the library, I also looked for Tajikiston, Sadoi Mardum (Voice of the People), and Adolat ( Justice), just to keep abreast of the developments in the country and, of course, taking notes on events and issues of importance. The afternoons were devoted to books brought by Ustod Sorbon, mostly dealing with Tajikistan during the early Soviet days.

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Carol, in addition to housework and typing my notes, helped me prepare some work that was commissioned by the Academy. She was also working on the publication of the Russian translation of Persian for Beginners as it came to us from the translator Volodia Bozukin. Returning an answer to the neighbors regarding teaching and discussions of Soviet life, I talked to Ustod Sorbon about his promise to send someone to take care of the door. He promised that someone would come to do it within the week. Satisfied with security and with Carol’s agreement to teach the kids, we stayed in the apartment for as long as we felt safe. Khurshid, that was the doctor’s name, and I began a series of conversations about developments in the country centered on Soviet achievements in northern and southern Tajikistan, especially in education, agriculture, and industry. Unfortunately, he refused adamantly to discuss ideology, the war, or anything that was outside our agreement. The conversations were taped. I translated them gradually as they were concluded and Carol typed them. One of the topics that we discussed was the relationship between the Soviets and the Tajiks. In those conversations I could formulate a contemporary interpretation for Aini’s Ghulomon. Further discussion with Khurshid, even though he did not openly agree, confirmed my interpretation. Khurshid was not happy with the treatment that the Tajiks had received over the centuries and were receiving at the hand of their present rulers. He explained how the Russians, after Muzaffar’s defeat in the 1880s, had enslaved the Tajiks and how they had assigned the Turks, their henchmen, as governors and supervisors. The coming of the Soviets, he said, was a breath of fresh air. But soon, the new regime also became oppressive. The Soviets drew new borders, which deprived the Tajiks of their cultural centers of Samarqand and Bukhara, curtailed their access to their sources of knowledge, and transformed their agriculture into monoculture, concentrating on cotton. “Am I correct to think that you are saying that the enslavement that the Russians started in the late nineteenth century continues today?” “I am not saying that,” he replied. “I am merely providing some facts about Tajik history. You can draw your own conclusion.” “Fair enough,” I said. In May 1993, prices began to change by the week. Thirty eggs went from 450 to 750; meat went from 70 rubles a kilo to 500 rubles. Similarly, sugar went from 185 rubles a kilo to 500. The price of staple commodities like rice, flour, and carrots did not rise as much. Rice went from 185 rubles a kilo to 200 rubles, flour from 15 to 20 rubles, and bread from 20 to 30 rubles. Since it was a part of

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our plan to stay within a reasonable budget, we began to feel the pinch. I discussed the situation with Khurshid. I asked him how people managed, given the salary that Tajik workers receive, and the lack of any salary adjustment? Tajiks, he said, in spite of all the efforts of the Soviets to divide them, always lived in tight family groups, so in difficult times, they supported each other. “It is not easy to explain how that works. You should be an actual participant in family life, a contributor for a while to see how the system works. Look at our family. We are five. We cannot live on my salary alone. I have a dacha where I grow vegetables. When we harvest the vegetables, we keep as much as we need for the rest of the year, and we sell the rest. My family also helps. That’s why I am going to give you a friendly warning. In a couple of months, the two of you will not be able to live in that apartment the way you are living today. Life will become difficult. You will face scarcity.” I tried to find out why he thought that, but he did not respond. I think this is one of the distinguishing factors about the Tajiks: they always throw the problem at you, but rarely offer a clue towards a solution. They leave you on your own to solve it and learn from the experience. Another topic that we discussed was shortages in the markets and the reasons for them. We looked at shortages in general terms first. One of the reasons for the shortage is scarcity of water. We heard reports that the level of the water at the dam that fed the fields and the city was low. If that shortage continued, we might be facing a famine. Another reason was the war. Of course, we did not have the type of war in which armies confiscate the citizens’ resources to feed soldiers. Nevertheless, something like that was going on as food stuff continued to be sent from Dushanbe to Qurghonteppa and Kulob. The major reason at that time, however, was that the government lost control over the country’s economy and the local mafia became the sole producer and dispenser of commodities. On top of that there was hoarding. All these factors have contributed to the situation we found ourselves in. The Tajik society of the 1990s was the inheritor of the society that, for seventy years, abided by rules set by the Soviet state. Needless to say, that earlier society itself had inherited practices from the Russian Empire of the tsars. Under the Russian colonizers (1889–1914), the area of present-day Tajikistan processed 32,300 tons of cotton alongside other produce. The Soviets introduced the concept of monoculture in Tajikistan, switching all agriculture to produce exclusively cotton. As a result, Tajikistan gradually decreased the amount of its traditional produce and used its land and water for cotton. The 32,300 tons of 1913 became 38,600 tons of cotton in 1928, 50,600 in 1932,

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174,400 in 1938, and 903,000 tons in 1980. The cotton was shipped to centers designated by Moscow. There it was processed and sent to other republics for the production of cotton-based products and goods. In exchange for its cotton, Tajikistan received the produce that it needed from the center. “Isn’t that the reason for the shortage? Tajikistan does not have a market for that much cotton; consequently, it is poor. And now, the countries that used to send produce to Tajikistan are stuck with their own produce.” “That, too,” Khurshid replied, “is a reason. In fact, it is one of the more meaningful reasons for the shortages.” “When I visited Tajikistan in 1990,” I said, “the government-run stores were full of everything. People had jobs in offices, at farms, or in industries. It was so easy to access commodities and information that I was convinced to choose Tajikistan as the site of my research. I even persuaded Carol that traveling to Tajikistan and living there for a year would be an experience of a lifetime that she should not miss.” “You are right,” Khurshid said. “The fall of the Soviet Union disrupted the channels of communication between the center and the satellites like Tajikistan. As a result, Tajikistan was left with a large amount of cotton and no market for it, as well as a need for produce and no financial ability to import.” “I cannot go outside Dushanbe,” I said, “but even here in Dushanbe, I see many factories are not operating at full capacity. Is that the reason for all those Korean and Chinese wares in the shops?” “Yes, it is. The disruption was so quick that it puzzled some, even astounded some old administrators. After independence in 1991, some Tajik administrators continued the hope that Moscow would continue its assistance to Tajikistan. How else, they wondered, could they produce funds equivalent to 32 percent of the republic’s gross domestic products (GDP)? But no assistance was forthcoming. Consequently, Tajikistan suffered a decline in GDP to the tune of 8.5 percent in 1991. The shortfall increased to 31 percent in 1992.”27 This monumental blunder caused the decline of the cotton fields in the south and the scarcity in the government-run stores, compared to the recentlyallowed private markets and shops. The government-run stores were virtually empty. The privately-run stores and the bazaar had been taken over by the local mafia, who set the prices according to customer demand. As a result, only the affluent could buy what they needed. 27 Cf. Kamoludin Abdullaev and Shahram Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary of Tajikistan (London: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 2002), 60.

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The shortages did not begin in 1992. They started when the importing of goods and products from the brother republics to Tajikistan stopped and the national production came to a halt. Moreover, in 1991, the communist government and its Islamic opposition refused to settle their differences and concentrate their efforts on improving the economy. Instead, a civil war erupted in the south and disrupted everything. The war divided the people and disrupted their normal way of life. Young and old, farmers and workers joined contending groups and shifted their economic profile from producer to consumer. The more people demanded produce, the tighter the grip of the mafia on society became. Hoarding, although a demeaning act, became prevalent and caused all prices to rise. However, when we arrived in Dushanbe in 1993, shortages were not apparent. My 1990 experience still had me convinced that all would be well. I should have remembered that my first trip was fully funded by the government. Outside the official visits, too, the Tajiks generously paid for everything. Moreover, the trip was in April, when the bazaar was full of vegetables and fruits. In Varzob, we met many young people who were selling tulips they had just picked in the mountains. There was prosperity overall. The second trip, on the other hand, was characterized by shortages and restrictions. Varzob was off limits and in the hands of the opposition. We could not go even near there. The bazaars were not as full as before. Additionally, there was talk about a continuous rise in prices and of shortages. Nevertheless, we thought we could manage. We went to the market and bought eggs, meat, potatoes, and whatever else we needed. Except for meat and eggs, everything else was brought fresh from private farms and sold at black market prices. 150 rubles for thirty eggs, 40 rubles for a kilo of meat, 40 rubles for a kilo of potatoes. This was in early April. By the end of April, the prices had gone up sharply. We now had to pay 450 rubles for thirty eggs, 70 rubles for a kilo of meat, 80 rubles for a kilo of potatoes. Sugar was 185 rubles per kilo, and so was rice. Only flour, bread, and carrots were within the reach of the ordinary Tajiks. Elderly men and women, even children, who were selling their cherished worldly possessions in impromptu markets to earn a few rubles and purchase necessities for a week or a day. We had seen those sad scenes in Moscow when we were going to Almaty and they were still present in Dushanbe two years after that. As summer reached its end, the amount of produce in the market diminished. What remained was often stale or wilted. Rice, flour, cooking oil and sugar became scarce and, eventually, unavailable. For those items we depended on friends who knew someone who knew someone who sold cooking oil or rice or flour, or sugar out of their basement at exorbitant prices.

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This situation, too, did not last long and a day came when the stalls in the market that used to be full with produce, and the shops that used to sell meat, sugar, and flour were closed. One day we walked through both the Barakat and Shomansur markets and returned home with very little. In addition, our friends gradually informed us that they could not provide what we needed on a regular basis. I thought our only option when that time came was to give up living in self-imposed austerity and join the Europeans and the Americans in the center. That, however, was left as the very last option. How did the Tajiks themselves live under these circumstances, especially that they did not have money like we did? I continued to ask that question and continued hearing, the only way I could find an answer to that question is to be a part of a Tajik family, exactly what Khurshid had said. By August 1993, the bazaars were pretty much closed. No produce was brought from the villages to sell in the stalls. Small shops, too, ran out of flour, sugar, meat, and other things. We had bought flour through a friend. It was fine when he brought it, but by mid-August it was infested with bugs. We made all efforts to buy new flour, but we could not find any. We also could no longer find chicken, cooking oil, and rice. Out of necessity, we borrowed a sieve and sifted the flour to separate the bugs. Then, before baking, we heated the rest of the flour assuming that it would become bug-free. It did not.

THE TRIP TO TASHKENT The trip to Tashkent is the story of our acquaintance with Khanom Zulfiya Rahimova, who at the time worked in the International Relations Department of the Ferdowsi Library. On Wednesday, June 16, we had gone to the Ferdowsi library to find Khanom Zibo Rahimova, Saif Rahimov’s wife. She had not come to work that day. The clerk at the information desk said there was another Rahimova, Khanom Zulfiya, who could possibly be the person we were looking for. I was sure that her name was Zibo, but I could be wrong. So she took us to Khanom Zulfiya who, we hoped, would be the Zibo we were looking for. She was not Zibo, but she was also a very nice young lady. She welcomed us to the library and gave us a short tour of their displays of old books, especially rare manuscripts of the Shahname. When she heard that it was difficult for me to access books, she offered to get whatever books I needed from Ferdowsi library, check them out under her own name, and leave them with me, even though she did not know me from Adam.

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It turned out that Khanom Zulfiya knew Ustod Sorbon. They had visited Tehran together as members of a government delegation to mourn the death of Ayatollah Khomeini. She checked out two books for me, Sotim Ulughzoda’s Vose’, covering the unhappiness of Tajik peasants in the Kuhiston and their struggle for their rights against Amir Abdulahad, and Aini’s History of the Manghit Amirs of Bukhara, a very interesting subject for me.28 Altogether, there were nine amirs. The most important for my purposes were four: Nasrullah, Muzaffar, Abdulahad, and Olim Khan. The way they treated their family members, officials, and the public was frightening. The more I read about the atrocities that they perpetrated, the more apprehensive I became about the society in which we lived. At times it felt that killing a person to own his property was an act of mercy. Its gloomy subject notwithstanding, Aini’s book was a valuable source of information. I used the notes that I took at that time as the basis for the second chapter of the present volume. We did not see Khanom Zulfiya again until July 7, when we went to the library to take back the two books and ask for two more. She was there and said she would get the books to me by the next day. On July 13, Khanom Zulfiya invited us to lunch that she had made at home and brought to work. We talked about life in Dushanbe as compared to Bukhara where her father came from. We also talked about the difficulties we experienced in the apartment—shortage of electricity, water, and a host of other things. Before leaving, I gave her the two books that I had borrowed. Our friendship with Khanom Zulfiya grew. Next time Carol brought her perfume, lipstick, nail polish, and earrings. We learned that she was the granddaughter of Abbos Aliev, one of the architects of Soviet rule in revolutionary Bukhara. Three of her sisters lived in Dushanbe, two others lived in Bukhara and Tashkent. She said she would ask her sisters to see if they could help us get visas for Uzbekistan to visit the cities of Bukhara and Tashkent before returning to Minneapolis. On Sunday, August 29, Khanom Zulfiya invited us to their house to meet “Dadajon,” as she referred to her father, Hussein Rahimov. The bus to her house was extremely crowded. There were times we wondered how one more passenger could get inside, and three or four more would enter. Zulfiya met us when we got off the bus. They lived on the first floor so we didn’t have to worry about

28 For Sotim Ulughzoda’s biography, see Iraj Bashiri, “Satem Ulughzada,” Encyclopedia of World Literature in the 20th Century, 357–359.

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the lift working or not. She had eggplant slices, sambuse,29 meat and cheese, something like yogurt with greens. The main dish was dolmah30 instead of the usual osh. She had a pie and small cakes with tea for desert. The food was really good and a change from the osh.31 Her father was a jolly fellow who told some really good jokes, mostly related to his childhood and early days in Bukhara. The family was originally from Hamadan, Iran, but Zulfiya’s grandfather moved to Bukhara. Eventually, her father moved from Bukhara to Dushanbe in the late 1940s. When we met, he was sixty-eight. He had been on pension for eight years. He went to the market, did all the shopping, and returned, before others got out of bed. When I was talking to acquaintances to see if there was a way that we could spend a couple of months with a Tajik family until the situation in the bazaar changed, Khanom Zulfiya overheard me. She said she would talk to Dadajon about our staying with them. She was sure that he would agree. By September, the weather changed. Some nights were very cold. One night there was a storm so intense that living on the eleventh floor with a picture window felt like being in a lighthouse in the middle of a tumultuous sea. As the weather got colder and the apartment did not have any heat, at night we moved the mattress into the small kitchen and slept with the oven door open. At that time, I reminded Khanom Zulfiya about talking to her father. She said that she had talked to him and they are getting ready for us to move in. By that time, the situation in the apartment was such that even if everything was available, we no longer wanted to live there. A particular incident helped us make up our mind. Imagine standing in a very long line for forty-five minutes after you have come down eleven flights of stairs just to get a jar of milk. This is something you don’t want to do every day. Sometimes, however, it was worth the effort. You felt that you did not need to live in Dushanbe to experience Dushanbe life first-hand. People in the milk line spelled it all out for you. One complained that everything was cut back and nothing was delivered on time any more. They blamed it on fuel shortage. Most of the buses that ran on gas were cancelled. Only the trolley buses were running now, and on work days, they were packed. It was not just no fuel and no buses, another would say. Everything was getting more expensive while the salaries were staying the same. Some people had to 29 Sanbuse or sambuse: triangle pastries stuffed with meat and spices. 30 Dolma: vine leaves or tomato, eggplant, and other vegetables stuffed with meat and herbs. 31 Osh: rice dish with meat and carrots.

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decide which one thing they could buy with their salary. And then there were their kids going to the university … A lot more, however, happened around us that we were not aware of. It started, like every other event as a rumor among the people in the milk line. They were telling each other that a man had been found dead out there on the street. More people coming from the apartments confirmed it. Then a car came in the courtyard with a member of the family, probably the wife of the dead man. She was in hysterics. The police arrived, examined the corpse, and talked to some individuals. Then the body was taken away. The people dispersed and the milkman went about his business as if nothing had happened. Carol got more information about it when she went downstairs for English. Azim and Khurshid both had seen the dead man. Azim said two men came to his apartment (the second one on the first floor) and took him out with their hands over his mouth and stabbed him by the brook (juy) at the side of the road. Further discussion in the milk line revealed that the man had been involved in drug trafficking and that everyone had been aware of his activities. We were not. What was frightening from an outsider’s point of view was the casual nature of the heinous act. We could just as easily be killed up there on the eleventh floor for our money, passports, computer, or cameras. Curious people would gather and gawk at our bodies before they were taken away. This episode and many others, about which I had heard and read, gnawed at me. I was sure the same was true with Carol, but we each kept it to ourselves. Gradually, Khanom Zulfiya’s suggestion regarding the trip to Bukhara became a reality. Her sister in Bukhara sent invitations for the three of us. Using the invitations and some aid from the embassy, we received visas for the visit. The next issue was transportation. Dadajon had said that his friend could help. This friend promised to get tickets for a coupe on the Volgograd train. Zulfiya told him, if he couldn’t get good seats on the first train, to wait for the next train. The Volgograd train was not running due to fuel shortage. So he tried the Qarshi train, which also did not work. With the chaotic situation in Dushanbe, the Bukhara people volunteered to drive halfway to Qarshi and pick us up there. This, we thought, was a better deal because from the car we could get a better sense of the situation in the two republics. They planned for us to stay in Bukhara for a while, then go to Tashkent. From Tashkent we could take the train back to Dushanbe. The Qarshi-Bukhara-Tashkent-Dushanbe part of the trip was now certain. What was left was how to get to Qarshi from Dushanbe. Khanom Zulfiya had counted on the Dushanbe-Qarshi train but was told that that train was not

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going to Qarshi anymore. At the end, the Bukharans agreed to make a trip to Dushanbe and pick us up. That was great news. The two from Bukhara arrived at about 3:00 pm. They were in a hurry to leave and get out of Tajikistan before dark because of so many check points. There were about ten check points and every time I had to get out and open one of the suitcases. At the final one, they asked me if I had any guns. Jokingly I said, “Not this time.” The statement created instant havoc. The Bukharans convinced the officers that I am a professor and a researcher and that my words were an out of place joke. After much haggling, they let us go. After the checkpoints, in order to bypass Termez, they took the route that went through the mountains. At Qarshi, they stopped at a house and changed cars. The road to Bukhara from there was straight and fairly wide, so we could go at 120–125 kph. On the side of the road, at a far distance, we could see the fires of the gas refineries. We got to Bukhara at 11:25 pm. The family was still up and waiting for us. They had called Dushanbe at 4:00 and had been told we were on our way. We talked until almost 1:00 am. Yusef Aka, his wife, Munavar Khanom, and their kids: Malika, twelve, Omida, eleven, and Aziza, nine, were all fantastic. A detailed narrative about the trip to Bukhara and Tashkent is outside the scope of this book. The difficulties of getting out of Dushanbe are just a small example of the hardships that the people of Dushanbe and Tajiks in general, experienced. The trip to Dushanbe, too, was fraught with similar or even more difficulties. In Tashkent, there was a gas shortage; therefore, we didn’t get to go anywhere. Muzaffar Aka scoured the whole district for gas to fuel his car and take us to the train station, but to no avail. At the end, because it was getting late, a neighbor agreed to take us there in his car. We boarded the train in Tashkent early in the afternoon of that day and got off in Dushanbe at about seven in the evening of the next day. All the time the train was on the way we could not leave our compartment. The train was so full of passengers that people were sitting, lying, and sleeping in the aisle. Their situation was so desperate that we allowed some of them to enter our compartment and stretch their legs there. The T ­ ashkent-Dushanbe train experience was the most miserable twenty-seven hours of our lives, to say the least.

LIFE WITH THE RAHIMOVS The idea of life with the Rahimovs for the winter of 1993–1994 began to take shape when circumstances forced us to look for an alternative to our apartment.

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It became a reality after the trip to Tashkent when we got to meet the rest of the family and became certain that moving away from the center would not create security issues. In addition, when we returned from Tashkent and entered the apartment, we found that someone had clearly been using it while we were gone. In fact, there were indications that someone had rummaged through our stuff, taking socks, ties, and other small things. In spite of his continuous promise to change the door or even the lock, Sorbon had either failed to see to the security of the apartment or had allowed someone to live in the apartment while we were gone, despite the fact that the rent was prepaid in full. I had the books I needed from the library of the Dushanbe Academy and the Ferdowsi library. Additionally, after school began in September, the downstairs kids no longer paid attention to their English lessons. I explained the situation to Khanom Zulfiya. For us it was either move to their house or to an apartment in the center. I preferred living with a family just to see how things work. Khanom Zulfiya talked to Dadajon over the phone and said that he was waiting for us to move in. Without telling Sorbon, we hired a taxi, carried the suitcases eleven flights down, and left the apartment. For a while, no one other than the Rahimovs and the embassy knew where we were in Dushanbe. Living with a family was not new to me. When I went to Liverpool in 1964, for nearly a year, I lived with the Mantovas, a family originally from the Isle of Man. I regularly paid for room and board and they treated me like a member of their family. I thought living with the Rahimov’s would be a similar experience, but I was wrong. The discussion with Khanom Zulfiya in the taxi was like my visit to the office of the president of the Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan in Almaty. There I made a request, when I did not exactly know what was involved, and had to abide by the rules that followed. Here, again, I had asked for a similar thing, thinking that the arrangement would work out as it was in Liverpool. It did not. As soon as the taxi moved, Khanom Zulfiya said, “I did not tell Dadajon about your situation in the apartment. I said you are colleagues that I have invited to live with us for a while. Therefore, when we get there you are guests of the family and Dadajon would not have it any other way.” I protested that it placed us in an untenable situation. “But you were in an untenable situation, you said yourself,” said Khanom Zulfiya. “You asked for a family that would share its resources with you. I talked to Dadajon and that is where we are. You are guests. I cannot explain it in any other way. So, please, when you meet Dadajon remember what we talked about.”

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As I said, Dadajon was a jovial old man. He had lived through five decades of Soviet life and had a lot of stories and experiences to talk about. I did not say a word about expenses, sharing, or compensation. Rather, we allowed ourselves to be gradually integrated into the family. This could have been a dangerous move. But the few months working with and observing Khanom Zulfiya had convinced me that her family was upright and that our safety was a major concern of theirs. In fact, every day we left the house, Dadajon made sure that he knew our schedule. After discussing the situation between the two of us, Carol and I decided to end the austerity program and contribute to the household as other members did in whatever way possible. We also decided one way or another, to pay them the rent that we would have paid Sorbon. Life with the Rahimov’s followed almost the same routine as our life in the apartment. The difference was that I had more time to carry out research. Khanom Zulfiya and Carol did the cooking and Dadajon, through his network of friends, brought the necessities of life not only to this house but to the houses of his other daughters, at times even to neighbors. The system he used did not require cash money; it required knowledge of resources and the way to get to them. His system, except for some items, bypassed stores, shops, and the bazaar. In a way, Dadajon and Khanom Zulfiya took over the role of Ustod Sorbon. Sorbon taught me about life in pre-Soviet times and the transition to the Soviet system over a piyola (cup) of choi (tea). I will be grateful to him for that forever. Dadajon taught me about the intricacies of the socialist system over a bardak (Turk. shot glass) of vodka. Nearly three months later, we became blood brothers. The Rahimovs did not use money in the same way that money is spent in western societies. They put much value on sharing commodities. But more importantly, there is no shame in asking for things you need but cannot access. For instance, if one sister and her family were given a few kilos of apples, rather than keeping all the apples and using them gradually, they divided the apples and took portions to the other families. If another family had come across some honey, it would send part of the honey to the other members. This was especially the case when an animal was slaughtered or bread was baked. At the beginning, this system of sharing created a problem for us because we did not have anything to contribute and it was inappropriate to offer money, which was the only thing we had. But we discovered other ways. Certain things were paid for with money. Those included milk that was brought in every morning and paid for at the end of each week in cash. There were bills for gas,

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electricity, telephone, and the like. We took over those. We also accompanied the Rahimovs to the market and whenever they allowed, paid for some things. This shift in value from individual capital to community sharing was very interesting. Contribution was voluntary. Nobody kept track of the contributions. One could live with the Rahimovs as one of them, first as a guest, thereafter as a member of the family. For how long that connection would last, I could not tell. In Kazakhstan of yore the custom was to keep the guests for forty days. When we were living with the Rahimovs, Khurshid’s statements regarding our stay in the apartment made sense. He predicted that we would not be able to continue living in the apartment after about two more months. He also said we would not be able to learn how the Tajiks cope with the changing state of their economy unless we become contributors to a family. Talking to Dadajon, and the rest of the family—professors and government officials—made me curious about the current political issues in Tajikistan. But no one was ready to talk about them. Nevertheless, with the help of the Rahimovs, I came in touch with the very people that I needed to know. I met with people who worked with the government and with the opposition, at the same time. They answered my questions just to make me feel confident about my own assertions, whether in lectures or as a book author. Towards the end of 1993, the situation was close to normal, if life in Dushanbe could ever be considered normal. Now I could ask more pointed questions about the government: not only whether it was good or bad, but who some of the major officials were and how it operated. To understand the activities of major Tajik politicians, religious leaders, and commanders I asked Vosse, who knew some of the figures in Dushanbe well, for some preliminary information. I began with Sangak Safarov and Faizali Sa’idov; two commanders who had very recently killed each other. He described Sangak as an organizer and Faizali as a warrior. Apparently, he said, Faizali disobeyed Sangak, his superior. I then asked him about Safarali Kenjaev and Akbar Turajonzoda, two other figures who dominated the Tajik political scene at the time. He talked about Kenjaev as a controversial head of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan and of Turajonzoda as a reformist leader dedicated to the Hanafi cause. I asked him about Emomali Rahmonov and why they chose him as the head of government. He said that his knowledge on Rahmonov was limited.32 Vosse was very understanding and helpful. At the end of each 32 For the text of the conversation, see the Appendix.

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question, he always asked if there was anything else on my mind. That made asking the next question much easier. To get a better perspective about people and events, I asked different individuals the same questions. In essence, their answers were close to each other. Some people, however, were better informed about certain issues and could explain some concepts better. Jamshid, whom I met very early in my acquaintance with Tajikistan, for instance, was good at explaining international issues. A major question on my mind at the time was why Tajikistan fell apart while other republics in the Union, such as Kazakhstan, prospered. Jamshid explained to me the dynamics of Tajik society, especially how individuals were tied to their own interests rather than to the well-being of the republic as a whole, and said that this was the major cause of Tajikistan’s downfall.33 For a while I wanted to write a well-rounded account of Rahmonov’s life. As a result, I gathered a great amount of information on Tajik leaders and influencers either through interviews or by filling out questionnaires. The next step was to, at some point, ask President Rahmonov, or, as he was now known, Rahmon, for permission, for access to resources, and for interviews. That was still in the future. Eventually, I decided to concentrate my efforts, at least partially, on Tajikistan. Consequently, I planned to visit the republic on a regular basis. The trips between Minneapolis and Dushanbe were long and tickets were becoming increasingly expensive, but I decided to stay on the course. Authorities, especially those related to the academy, appreciated my contribution. I was granted an honorary doctorate in history and culture and made an honorary international academician of the Academy of Sciences of Tajikistan. I was the second person to receive this title. The first was the president of Iran Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani. Furthermore, whenever I was in Dushanbe, I received event invitations together with the Ambassador of the United States in Tajikistan and his staff and was seated in the visitors’ section close to them. This section also included an elevated space for the president. I  should add that at that time the republic did not yet have an elaborate bureaucracy and the president mingled with the guests, some of whom he knew by name. As the bureaucracy grew, and fear of terrorists increased, both the ambassador and the president became less accessible. Nevertheless, I still received invitations to meetings as well as to the palace for dinner. Often I was 33 For the text of the conversation, see the Appendix.

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somewhere near the president, but I did not have any contact with him. I also travelled in the same bus or plane as the president, saw him give talks and bestow gifts, and participated in some scholarly meetings he chaired. On one occasion, I was invited to go to Khujand as a part of the president’s entourage. Since I had already been to Khujand, but not to Kulob, I asked if I could go to Kulob instead and see the war zone firsthand. It was approved. While everyone else went to the airport to go to Khujand, the Minister of Grain (read: agriculture) took Khanom Zulfiya, who came as my interpreter, and me to Qurghonteppa in a ministry car. After viewing the war damage from afar, it was deemed too dangerous to go to the town itself at the time, we proceeded to Kulob where we met with the governor, visited the tomb of Mir Sayyid Ali Hamadani,34 and returned to Dushanbe via Danghara, Rahmonov’s place of birth, and Norak. We arrived at the hotel about 5:30 PM. The minister and his driver said goodbye and left. Khanom Zulfiya also went home. At the desk, I was told that a gentleman had been looking for me. No sooner than was I told that, the gentleman in question approached me and asked to talk for a few minutes. I agreed, and he guided me to the other side of the lobby. “I came earlier to see you,” he said, “but you were not here.” “I left for Kulob early in the morning,” I replied. “Alone?” He asked. “No,” I said. “With the Minister of Grain, his driver, and Khanom Zulfiya.” “Who is Khanom Zulfiya?” “She helps me with my work.” “Is that her job?” “Her actual job is at the Ferdowsi Library. She is the Head of International Relations.” “Were you not scheduled to go to Khujand?” “I was,” I said. “But I requested for a change of venue. It was approved.” “Why Kulob?” “Because I am a researcher. I intend to write an account about Tajikistan …” He continued questioning me on every point and took notes. I answered in detail, but I did not mention Qodir, whom I had met at the Muftiyyot in Dushanbe previously. Meeting Qodir unexpectedly and talking to him in Kulob 34 For Hamadani, see Glossary; Iraj Bashiri, “Islam in Kashmir,” in Mir Sayyed Ali Hamadani, His Significance in the History of Civilization of the Peoples of Central Asia (Dushanbe: Donish, 2015), 218–282.

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became the highlight of the trip. I knew from our previous conversation that he was on the mark with his understanding of things in the south.35 Every time my interrogator returned to his original question, “So, why didn’t you go to Khujand?” I explained again, “I had been to Khujand already. So instead, I went south to see the war zone.” “But you were scheduled to go to Khujand. Next time you are scheduled to travel with His Excellency the President to go to a particular place, do not change the schedule.” I promised to do that. He then thanked me for giving him my time and left. At dinner, I did not see any of my colleagues, who apparently were still on the way from Khujand. At midnight, a knock on the door awakened me. I was frightened. I had often heard about midnight knocks on the door, and thought that this had something to do with that interrogation. At first, I decided to say nothing hoping that whoever it was would leave. But there was another knock. I opened the door. A man carrying a carpet and a few other things was on the other side. He apologized for the intrusion at such an untimely hour: “We just arrived back from Khujand. The president had gifts for the participants. Since you were not present, I am bringing yours to your room.” “That is exceedingly kind of the president and thank you for taking the trouble.” The next morning at breakfast, I learned that during that trip, on April 30, 1997, the president had survived an assassination attempt in Khujand. The knock on my door last night was needlessly frightening. The next meeting with the president was needlessly stressful. Here is how that happened. It was about 10 o’clock in the morning. I was sitting in the lobby of Hotel Tajikistan, waiting for a colleague. A middle-aged gentleman approached me and, somewhat hesitantly asked, “Are you Professor Bashiri?” I said I was. “Do you have a couple of minutes to talk about something?” He asked as he sat next to me on the sofa. “Sure,” I said, “What about?” “We are a group of literary scholars that meets regularly and discusses aspects of the works of the great Tajik poets. Tomorrow we are meeting in the Aini Opera and Ballet Theatre to talk about Kamal Khujandi. I would like to invite you to the discussion there. Will you come?” “I would,” I admitted. “But due to long-distance travel I still don’t feel well …” “Do not worry about that,” he said. “I will arrange it so you do not have to stay long.” 35 See Appendix for the discussion.

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“In that case,” I replied, “I agree to meet with your group.” He thanked me and said that tomorrow someone would meet me at the door and direct me to the meeting. I never saw him again. When my friend arrived, I told him about the invitation. My friend did not know anything about that particular group, but he said it was odd for them to meet in the Aini Opera and Ballet Theatre. There was a place for such gatherings in the Writers Union, he said. What had prompted the request, I thought, was a book I prepared about Kamal Khujandi. It contained my own study of Hafiz alongside a number of articles about Kamal Khujandi by Tajik colleagues that I translated from Tajiki into English. The book did not have any claim, as I was not a Khujandi scholar. In any event, I prepared some preliminary notes along the lines that he had indicated, to present to the group as a gesture of collegiality. The next morning, notes in hand, I went to the Aini Opera and Ballet Theatre. There was an unusual amount of coming and going around the place, as if a performance was about to begin. At the door, the person who was assigned to help me find the meeting spotted me and indicated to follow him across the rotunda. When we came to a rather small, closed door, he knocked lightly. I thought that was the door to a side room, fit for a small gathering. The door was opened and I was ushered in. I saw a hall, narrow but long and well-lit. A line of people stood in front of me. I was directed to stand at the end of that line. At the other end I recognized President Rahmon greeting those in the line one by one. Each individual, after a few words with the president, went through a large door and disappeared. Just to make sure I was in the right place, I asked the individual in front of me whether this was where the gathering for Kamal Khujandi was held. He said that it was. Eventually, I found myself about five or six feet away from the president. He welcomed me, and as he shook my hand he asked, “What was the Americans’ reaction to our visit there?” “Your Excellency,” I said, “I was here in Tajikistan at the time. But everything that I have heard indicates that it was a positive visit.” “Welcome to Tajikistan,” he said, as he let go of my hand. “Thank you, Your Excellency,” I replied and headed to join the others. The door opened to a large panel facing an audience. I sat where my name was indicated. After a few more minutes, the president joined the panel, sat in the place of the chair, and opened the proceedings. The first presenter gave a comprehensive account of Kamal Khujandi’s life and works. His forty-five-minute account

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made my introductory words absolutely useless. Apparently, I was expected to present a paper or discuss an aspect of Khujandi’s life, but no one had warned me. Neither had I sent in any abstract or article, or any indication that I was ready to present anything. In normal situations, these things would follow a protocol. At times, panelists are identified, and approached a year prior to such a meeting. They know ahead of time that they will appear as an expert, in front of a gathering, in a panel chaired by a colleague. The audience, too, consists of scholars dealing with the same subject. But this was a panel chaired by the president, a republic forum. I was baffled and confused. I listened to the presenters, doodled, and tried to strategize a way out. I had three options: tell the audience that I was misled and, therefore, did not have a presentation to offer; say I was not feeling well and preferred to pass; or, during the change of presenters, get up and leave without a word. After all, that was an appropriate response to what was happening. However, none of those options seemed satisfactory. As others presented their papers, I became more and more anxious and helpless. They say, in moments of despair, people reach far and deep into their brains to find a solution. I felt true despair, as I was sitting there, waiting for my name to be called. I scanned mentally every topic on which I could speak and uphold my position as a researcher. Then it dawned on me. Due to the initial shock, I concentrated on Khujandi’s life, and not his era, the era of Hafiz from Shiraz. I recalled reading that there were conversations, even letters, exchanged between the two. Thus far, nobody had talked about that aspect of Khujandi’s life. After all, the book I had prepared dealt with Hafiz, Khujandi, and their Sufi interpretations of existence. This “discovery” opened a wide vista in front of me. Thoughts about Khujandi, Neo-Platonism, and the allegory of the cave gave warmth to my body. Then I heard the announcer proclaiming, “Now we will hear from Professor Iraj Bashiri, America’s expert on Kamal Khujandi …” All I remember was that I got up, took my notes and, as if walking on air, came to the podium. There, I said calmly, “Rosti gap [to tell the truth], the first speaker exhausted my notes on Kamal Khujandi; so I put them aside and will talk about the difference between Khujandi’s Neo-Platonic approach to Sufic poetry and the divinity-based approach of Shams al-Din Hafiz Shirazi. …” The proceedings appeared several times on radio and television in Tajikistan and once, I was told, in Moscow. The only comment I heard about my presentation was not so much regarding what I said but that I had delivered a lecture spontaneously from memory—no notes. After returning to Minneapolis, I became involved in administrative work at the College and prepared new courses around the theme of Iranian identity.

The War Year

Tajikistan as such was put on the back burner. I designed four new courses on ancient Iran, modern Iran, Islam and the West, and the cultures of the Silk Road. The latter focused on the Silk Road corridor in Central Asia, a large part of which was in modern-day Tajikistan. In 1995, I learned that the former head of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan, Safarali Kenjaev, had published a three-volume work about the civil war. I contacted Khanom Zulfiya and asked her to reach Mr. Kenjaev and request a set for my research. She mailed a set of Tabadduloti Tojikiston (The Tajikistan Coup) to me at the beginning of 1996. The dedication to the three volumes reads: To the very dear and esteemed friend Mr. Iraj Bashiri! I wish you good health, well-being, happiness and good fortune in work and life. I am pleased that my insignificant book has attracted your attention. May you remain in God’s grace and under the shadow of Prophet Muhammad. With greatest respect, Safarali Kenjaev. 9/12/1996.

The arrival of those volumes had a special meaning in relation to my longterm plans for understanding Iranian identity. However, I did not have a chance to look through the volumes until after Kenjaev was assassinated in 1999. In 1999 and 2000, I taught at the Kyrgyz National University, where I had ample time to think through the materials I had on Iran and Tajikistan and come up with a plan for writing a volume or set of volumes dealing with the history of the Iranian peoples. My final plan included two volumes on ancient and modern Iran and one on Tajikistan. Regarding Tajikistan, my planned volume was tentatively called The Third Force. Emomali Rahmon was to be the main figure in the third force. I followed Rahmon’s efforts for many years and participated in meetings that he chaired, either as a panelist or as part of the audience. I always commended him for his untiring efforts and felt that he deserved a careful study. As early as 1993, I gathered information on prominent Tajiks either through interviews or by asking individuals to fill out questionnaires. I also had a couple of notebooks filled with notes and the volumes I received from Kenjaev. With all that information and some additional data that I hoped the president’s office would supply, I thought I could do the job. In 2001, I looked through the Kenjaev volumes and took extensive notes for my planned life of Emomali Rahmon. Then, I felt that at some point I should

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approach President Rahmon and ask for his blessing. That opportunity came in 2009. When I met President Rahmon at the Ponghoz palace, I asked for his permission to write an account of his life. He responded positively and ordered two of his aides to see to it that I received the assistance I needed. Later, when I asked for some documents and an interview with the president, I realized that the account that I had in mind and the president’s version of events, at least as I understood it, were at odds. The aides expected that my writing would be closely supervised and approved at each stage, so that the resulting volume would be more a coffee-table piece than a history. I could not do that. I abandoned the idea of making the president my major participant and decided to write a history of the civil war in Tajikistan using Safarali Kenjaev’s work.

CHAPTER 2

The Emirate of Bukhara INTRODUCTION

T

his chapter deals with the Emirate of Bukhara. It shows how the medieval kingdom was transformed from a land with an insufficient economy, a poor educational system, and virtually no military into a nation with a standing army, trade relations with the Russian Empire, and a progressive youth ready to face the challenges of socialism. Those changes took place under the last four Bukharan rulers. Amir Nasrullah (r. 1827–1860) reorganized the social structure and established a standing army. Amir Muzaffar (r. 1860–1885) used that army against the mighty Russian Empire and lost not only the war, but also the independence of the Emirate. Amir Abdulahad (r. 1885–1910) struggled to pay the war indemnity, as well as to accommodate Russian administrative impositions that made the amirs virtual tax collectors for Imperial Russia. And the last ruler, Amir Olim Khan (r. 1911–1920), fought the Jadidists, the Young Bukharans, and the Bolsheviks ostensibly to safeguard Islam. At the end, Olim Khan and his entourage fled to the safety of Afghanistan, where he died and was buried in 1944. As for the struggle between Islam and the progressive forces coming from the West, socialist as well as democratic, it continued until the end of the twentieth century. The remainder of this chapter lays the foundation for the outcome of that struggle that did not materialize fully until 1997. The chapter is crucial for understanding the process that transformed Eastern Bukhara into the Tajik Soviet Socialist Republic.

BACKGROUND After the dissolution of the Golden Horde in 1380, the region to the northeast of the Caspian Sea was occupied by the descendants of Genghis Khan’s eldest son, Jochi Khan. They, along with the Turkish people of the region, are the

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present-day Uzbeks and Kazakhs. In the sixteenth century, after the Kazakhs refused to cooperate with them, the Uzbeks invaded and occupied Transoxiana, thus becoming the uncontested rulers of the region. Upon their arrival in Transoxiana, the Uzbeks changed the governmental structure that had existed in Bukhara under the Timurids into the hierarchical mode that distinguished the rulership of Batu Khan and Shaiban Khan.1 They also implemented the court organization of the Altin Orda (golden horde), an elaborate system with specific positions for every chief, administrator, and religious figure.2 Based on the law (yassa) of Genghis Khan, the system was unsympathetic to the needs of the common people; in fact, it ignored them. The norm was: those who do not have a standing in the tribe do not have a standing in society. However, the Islamization of the Uzbeks under the rule of the Golden Horde had tempered the attitude of their rulers. Between 1599 and 1753, the Ashtarkhanids, also stemming from the line of Jochi, ruled the southern regions, Transoxiana and Khurasan. The Ashtarkhanid kingdom complemented the territories of the Crimean Tatars and the Khanate of Kazan. Its boundaries consisted of Turkistan to the north, the Khanate of Khiva to the west, and the territory of Merv to the south. The capital of the kingdom was the city of Bukhara. The Ashtarkhanid dynasty had seven rulers. The founder of the dynasty, Boqimuhammad (r. 1599–1605), harmonized the foreign and domestic policies of Bukhara to meet the requirements of the landowners and merchants who had propelled him to his position. Additionally, he strengthened the military and introduced a new system of taxation. These reforms, due to the great burden that they placed on the people of Bukhara, resulted in a series of rebellions against him. Five rulers that followed not only maintained the achievements of the founder, but also consolidated and enhanced his legacy. Not so the seventh ruler, Abulfaizkhan (r. 1711–1747) under whom both the authority and the viability of the dynasty were undermined. Before long, the region of Samarqand seceded from Bukhara and, in the Ferghana valley, the Khanate of Qoqand broke away and declared independence. In 1740, Nadir Shah Afshar (r. 1736–1747), the ruler of Iran, captured Bukhara.3   1 Zeki Velidi Togan, “The Origins of the Kazaks and the Ozbeks,” in Central Asian Reader: The Rediscovery of History, edited by H. B. Paksoy (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 1994), 36.   2 Cf. ibid., 36–37.   3 For more information on Nader Shah, see Iraj Bashiri, Modern Iran, 132–133.

The Emirate of Bukhara

After Nader Shah’s death, the future of the region changed. Nader’s commanders divided his empire among themselves. In the east, a large portion of Khurasan, Balkh, and Quetta went to Ahmad Shah Durrani. The country of Afghanistan was later established in those territories. In the west, the Ottoman Empire retook the western regions of Armenia and Bain al-Nahrain, and the Oman sultanate became independent. Seizing the opportunity, Muhammad Rahim Manghit captured Bukhara (1743), killed the Ashtarkhanid ruler, and established the Emirate of Bukhara. The Emirate of Bukhara was viewed differently by different observers. To Western eyes, the Emirate was a sleepy, backward nation ruled by tyrants. The state was considered to be immobile and the society only moderately evolving.4 The Bukharans rejected this narrow view. To them, noble Bukhara, although not technologically advanced, was a center of trade, commodities exchange, and political intrigue. More importantly, it was at the heart of the Silk Road. Its Islamic theological schools (madrasa) were attended by students from all over Central Asia. After the addition of Eastern Bukhara, and Badakhshan to the Emirate, it became an even more dynamic, albeit relatively oppressive, kingdom.5 To Islamic scholars, Bukhara represented one of the three jewels of the Orient. Samarqand and Khiva were the other two. They adored Bukhara profusely in both prose and poetry. Shams al-Din Hafiz Shirazi bestowed Samarqand and Bukhara for the Indian mole on the face of his Beloved.6 Located on the Zarafshon river, Bukhara had been known since the eleventh century as the center of Islamic learning. Its pre-Islamic history placed it at a much earlier date. As the seat of Islam in the East, it rivaled the city of Baghdad. Many mosques and madrasas dotted its cityscape and many students and scholars studied, and carried out research, at its unique madrasas. The administrative center of Bukhara was the Arg, a medieval citadel with a Byzantine history of pomp, glory, cruelty, and tyranny. It was the seat of government but not the residence of the ruler. Located in the middle of the city, like a city within the city of Bukhara, during the era of the Chaghatai rulers, the Arg was occupied by Chaghatai khans. Later it became the residence of amirs. During the rule of Olim Khan, the last Manghit ruler, it had a population of   4 Hélène Carrère d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire: Reform and Revolution in Central Asia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), 7.   5 For mountain Tajiks, see Ronald Wixman, The Peoples of the USSR: An Ethnographic Handbook (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 1984), 183.   6 Cf. Iraj Bashiri, “Hafiz’ Shirazi Turk: A Structuralist’s Point of View,” The Muslim World 69, no. 4 (1979): 178–197 and 248–268, especially 248–250.

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nearly 3,000. The prominent figures of the Emirate lived in the Arg. The ruler resided either in Sitorai Mohi Khosa, a complex of gardens and residential buildings outside Bukhara, or in Karmina, a resort town to the northeast of Bukhara. Sitorai Mohi Khosa was also used for royal festivities, and for receiving foreign, primarily Russian, dignitaries. The population of the Emirate, a mix of Tajiks and Turks, was estimated at about two million.7 The Tajiks, an Indo-European (more specifically Iranian) people, were the original inhabitants of the region. During the seventh and eighth centuries, they lost their authority to Arab invaders who, among other things, forced their religion on them. After the eleventh century, the Turks displaced the Arabs and became the Tajiks’ overlords. Then, as a result of centuries of interaction, especially under Mongol and Shaybanid rulers, the line between Tajik, Arab, and Turk, especially in the Samarqand and Bukhara regions, became blurred and gave rise to the term sart.8 During the Manghit era, to an astute observer, it was obvious that the settled population, mostly urban, was primarily Tajik. The Turks preferred the life on the steppe. In general, however, there existed no credible census on the basis of which one could determine which population held majority status.9 The amir had two secretaries (mirzo) who attended to his personal correspondence. The first mirzo was known as katib (scribe), the second was called mushrif (informer).10 The qushbegi (prime minister) was the amir’s first assistant in the administration of the state. His job specification included meeting with those who had complaints against the amir, and the needy of Bukhara. He also executed the amir’s orders and attended to foreign relations, especially in meetings with Russian envoys. Next in rank was the collector of religious dues (zakatchi). He was in charge of cattle taxes, exports and imports. There was also a semi-judiciary and semi-religious position called mayor (ra’is). He made sure that the dictates of the Islamic law (Shari’a) were followed correctly.

  7 Cf. d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 14.   8 During the thirteenth century, the Tajiks, mostly tradespeople, as opposed to the tribal Turkish population, were called sart. The tsarist administrators used sart to identify the sedentary population of Central Asia exclusively. The Soviets discontinued the use of the term. See also Abdullaev and Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary, 187.   9 Rahim Masovich Masov, History of a National Catastrophe, edited and translated by Iraj Bashiri, https://experts.umn.edu/en/publications/the-history-of-a-national-catastropheby-rahim-masov, retrieved on December 22, 2018, 3–7. 10 The Arabic term mushrif means inspector and examiner. The Manghits used it to mean a spy or an informer.

The Emirate of Bukhara

Below the amir and his11 cabinet, the Emirate was divided into provinces (bekdom). The provincial governor (bek), appointed by the amir, was supervised by the qushbegi. Each bekdom was divided into several districts (amaldori). The amaldoris served as the centers for the payment of taxes. The amaldor was in charge of ascertaining the amount of annual tax for each household. He also supervised the police chief (mirshab), water distribution chief (mirob), and the head secretary (mirzoboshi). The latter was in charge of the bek’s correspondence center. The Bukharans were almost exclusively Sunni Muslims belonging to the Hanafi school. Many Isma’ili Shi’ites, Jews, Zoroastrians, and Hindus also lived in the Emirate.12 The affairs of the Muslim community were under the supervision of the clergy (ruhoniun) led by the chief judge (qozikalon). The qozikalon received all the criminal cases and appointed experts on the Shari’a law (muftis) to adjudicate them. As we shall see, this social class, which contributed judges (qozi), muftis, theological scholars (ulema), descendants of the Prophet (sayyid), descendants of the first three of the Rashidun Caliphs (khwaja), and clerics (ishon) to the system was a powerful element, especially when it came to safeguarding Islamic traditional values threatened by Russification under the Russian Empire and later, Sovietization imposed by the Socialists. The only law that existed in Bukhara was the Islamic Shari’a law. The interpretation of the Shari’a depended on the whim of the amir and the discretion of the clergy. Ordinary citizens did not have any type of security. Whenever the amir desired, an individual could be arrested and his property could be confiscated. The affairs of State were the responsibility of the amir’s appointees.13 Language played a dual role in the Emirate. Persian was the official language. As the language of administration, it was spoken at the court by the amir and his mostly Iranian officials. All decrees to the citizenry and official foreign correspondence were issued in Persian. Being an ethnic Turk and the leader of Turkish chieftains and tribesmen, the amir used Turkish as well. He addressed his chiefs of tribes (ilkhan) in Turkish and bestowed gifts of land (ulus) in Turkish. 11 For the structure of the bekdoms, the number of administrators, and the responsibility of the bek vis-à-vis the amir, see H. Pirumshoev, Ta’rikhi Omuzishi Shurishi Vose’ (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1992), 12–14. 12 For a brief description of Bukhara and Khiva, see Seymour Becker, Russia’s Protectorates in Central Asia: Bukhara and Khiva, 1865–1924 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1968), 7–10. 13 B. Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro dar Davrai Vassali (1868–1917) (Khujand: Matbaai Avval, 1998), 8.

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Due to the mixed nature of the population that it ruled, the Manghit State had a dual administration: a council of tribal chiefs, the members of which were drawn from among the ilkhans and chiefs of uluses, and a civil administration. This latter consisted of the following: qushbegi, who headed the cabinet (divan) of ministers and the qozikalon, who headed the judicial branch of the government. The qozikalon organized the affairs of the clergy, including all lower judges and teachers; and the office of the chief of the police (mirshab). This latter office was of particular importance. Although serving as the head of the police, the mirshab coordinated the activities of the thieves and cut throats in the Emirate with the wishes and requirements of the amir and his administrators. A delicate responsibility that at the same time could be burdensome, profitable, and lethal. The treasury of the Emirate belonged to the amir. The amir’s expenses, therefore, were paid from the public treasury. The amirs were rich. Olim Khan’s savings in Russian banks, in 1913, amounted to 34 million rubles. The government employees were not paid a salary from the treasury. The public was responsible for their upkeep. In 1917, Amir Olim Khan tried to institute a payment system. But the amount the government paid was paltry in comparison to what officials had received from the people. In response to the officials’ complaints, the amir cancelled the order. Bukhara’s economy was feudal, based on agriculture and live-stock breeding. In this context, all land and water belonged to the amir, who usually parceled them out to his high officials for cultivation. These portions of land and water, usually given as gifts to chieftains, were further divided and given as gifts to the lower echelon. As the last member of the chain, the farmer was assigned a piece of land and an appropriate amount of water. He was required to till the land, irrigate it, and bring it to fruition. At harvest, the yield was divided into either five or eight portions, taking into account the contributions made by each side. The landlord provided the land, water, seed, equipment, and draught animals. At harvest, he received a portion for each contribution. The farmer received a portion for his labor, on which he paid an income tax. Similarly, the amir portioned out his animals among his tribal chiefs to be cared for. Known as “trust” (amonat), the system worked very much like the one for land. The amir contributed the animals, pasture, and shelter. The tribesperson contributed his own labor, as well as the labor of his family. At the end of the year, the amir took back the original animals and their offspring. The herdsman received the milk and wool, on which he paid an income tax.

The Emirate of Bukhara

Neither system was as simple as it sounds. Both systems had variants, and both involved the contributions of the chieftains, officials, tax collectors, and others. To indicate the depth and breadth of the state system, it is sufficient to point out that from these simple transactions an elaborate social, political, and military order emerged that provided security, and accountability for all. The reliability of the state system and its viability would be tested when Bukhara started its inevitable transition from a medieval kingdom into a modern state. Trade between Bukhara and Russia had existed as a result of the Emirate’s location on the Silk Road. After Bukhara became a Russian tsarist protectorate (see below), movement of capital, as well as goods, such as bread, sugar, and raw materials, like cotton and Karakol hides was accelerated.14 Education was a low priority in the Emirate. Only the sons of the amir and the courtiers were allowed to receive an education. The educational system included two types of schools known as the maktab (elementary school) and the madrasa. At the maktab, the Arabic language and the fundamentals of Islam were taught through the medium of Persian. At the madrasa, higher levels of Islamics, including the Qur’an, the word and deeds of the Prophet (hadith), commentaries (sharh), beliefs, rituals, and practices were instructed in Arabic.15 Subjects such as mathematics, physics, and chemistry were not included. After some eighteen years of attending school, with the approval of the amir, the graduates of the madrasas were assigned by the qozikalon to teaching positions in either Bukharan or provincial schools. Industry in the Emirate consisted of cottage industry using wool, cotton, and silk thread to produce various types of fabrics. Other facets of industry included seed-oil extraction, dairy products, hides, carpets, wooden implements, and uncut precious stones. Mining was limited to salt, sulfur, coal, and iron ore.16 One of the less known institutions in Bukhara was slavery. It lasted until 1884–1885. Slaves were considered a commodity and were traded as such. The amir was the biggest slave owner with thousands of male and female slaves at his court. Here are some of the prices in the Bukhara market in the 1860s:

14 Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 9–10. 15 Iraj Bashiri, Modern Iranian Philosophy: From Ibn Sina to Mulla Sadra Shirazi (San Diego, CA: Cognella, 2014), 93–94. 16 O. Bazarov and R. Majidov, Boqimondahoi Dini Eslom va Rohhoi Bartaraf Namudani Onho (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1968), 6.

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The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan Small boy, 10–15 years old

35 gold tangas17

Young man, 16–25 years old

45–50 gold tangas

Man, 26–40 years old

80 gold tangas

Girl, 10–15 years old

70 gold tangas

Girl, 16–25 years old

50–60 gold tangas

Woman, 26–40 years old

40 gold tangas

The slaves performed the hardest tasks. Their price was tied to their sex and age. Young girls were much easier to sell because they had the potential to marry the master, or to serve as nurses.18 The organization of the military, during the periods that the Emirate enjoyed such a luxury, was very poor, especially compared to Russia. The amir commanded warriors who still carried swords into wars where the enemy used rifles and cannons. Below the commander in chief were the chiefs of the tribes and high-ranking administrators. The tribal chiefs usually gathered the young men of the tribe (mostly the oldest boy in each family) and led them into battle. Similarly, the high-ranking administrators gathered the sons of the landlords and farmers and led them into battle. There was no formal training. In special situations, the amir and the qozikalon jointly issued a decree (fatwa) for holy war (jihad). In that case, all males were mobilized and were led by the amir to fight the infidels. The 1868 confrontation between Amir Muzaffar and Russia is a prime example of the ineffectiveness of the army of the Emirate. As we shall see, the amir challenged the might of the Russian Empire twice and was defeated both times.19 The political dynamics of Bukhara rested on land tenure and water rights. The amir, the clergy headed by the qozikalon, and the tribal chiefs all drew on the same land and water for power and authority. The amir, as the chief administrator, owned all the land and the people that worked on the land. He could tax the people any amount he wished. Whenever necessary, he also could use them in his military. Similarly, the qozikalon, exerting his religious and spiritual authority, could oblige the faithful to pay their religious taxes (zakat) to him and work on endowment (waqf) lands. The third source of authority, albeit limited, belonged to the tribal chieftains. Drawing on the land, the water, and the loyalty of the people assigned to them by the amir, the chiefs exerted a great 17 In 1920, in Bukhara, a Russian ruble was worth 5 tangas. 18 Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 39–40. 19 See further below for descriptions of the battles and their outcomes.

The Emirate of Bukhara

deal of influence. For instance, they levied their own taxes, formed their own armies, and whenever they deemed it feasible, sought independence. The crucial interactions took place among the amir, the chief judge, and the intellectuals of Bukhara. After the fall of the Emirate in 1920, these conflicts assumed modern guises and plagued the nascent Soviet state. Whether they had any influence over decades on the 1992–1997 civil war in Tajikistan is debatable. The circumstances that gave rise to the Basmachi movement20 and the situation that gave rise to the political movement in southern Tajikistan against the Soviet state in the 1990s were not the same. Life in Bukhara was disrupted twice, each disruption leaving its own distinct mark on the history of the Emirate, weakening it in a particular manner. Due to the importance of those watershed events in Bukharan history, in what follows, they will be mentioned briefly, but later they will be dealt with in more detail in proper context. At the present, a concise history of the Emirate to indicate that Bukhara remained a feudal kingdom will suffice. It should be noted, however, as Ismoilova makes it clear, that there was a small educated minority, which tried to modernize the kingdom.21 The first major disruption was Amir Nasrullah’s attempt at centralization. His actions tore the traditional bonds between the farmer and the land asunder. In the end, it made the society more diverse, the amir impotent against external foes, and the chieftains less content. The only benefit of Nasrullah’s centralization effort was the institution of a small army. This disruption and its consequences will be discussed below, in the context of Amir Nasrullah’s life. The second disruption, a direct result of the first, was Amir Muzaffar’s confrontation with the Russian Empire. The confrontation tested the strength of Bukhara’s military against the Russian forces.22 This confrontation placed the ruling class of the Emirate at the mercy of a foreign power, the Russian Empire. Furthermore, Russian involvement in the affairs of the Emirate introduced modernization, the initial steps towards the formation of an urbanizing bourgeois society which, eventually, led to the Bukharan intellectuals’ call for reform. The host of officials that flooded the Kuhiston region, the atrocities of those officials against poor Tajik peasants, and the number of taxes that the peasants had to pay propelled the peasants to revolt against the amirs.23 We shall 20 For the Basmachi movement, see the Glossary. 21 Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 57–65. 22 For more information on those issues, see further below. 23 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, report up to eighty types of taxes. See also Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 13–18.

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return to this subject when we deal with Amir Muzaffar’s life and with the Vose’ uprising under Amir Abdulahad.

THE MANGHIT AMIRS OF BUKHARA The Manghit dynasty (1753–1920) had nine amirs.24 Of those, four are of significance for understanding the structure of the Islamic opposition in the region that began under the Russian Empire, grew during Soviet times and, eventually, contributed, albeit partially, to the disruption and fall of the Soviet State. Further below, it will become clear that only the ideological conflict between Islam and communism remains, the circumstances surrounding the conflict, including motive, approach, and possibilities for resolution differ. Below, we shall examine the lives of the four amirs.25

AMIR NASRULLAH Amir Nasrullah ascended the throne in 1826. His rule coincides with the rivalry between Russia and Britain in Central Asia.26 To secure his rule, he killed his three brothers, their wives, and children.27 Thereafter, he either eliminated, or displaced, the influential figures who had enjoyed high places at the court of his predecessor by confiscating their property and adding to his own property that included caravanserais, mills, and steel works.28 The Manghit rulers were not born into Islam. They “inherited” their Islamic identity from their grandmother.29 Being distant from the true faith, they lacked a thorough understanding of the Shari’a and the role that it played in a Muslim’s everyday life. This lack of understanding is most prominently visible in the way 24 Since the Manghits were not related to Genghis Khan directly, they could not call themselves “khan.” Therefore, they chose “amir” as their title. 25 For the lives of Amirs Rahimbii Atalik, Abulqozikhon, Mirma’sum Shohmurod, Amir Haidar, as well as Amir Hussein and Amir Umar, see Iraj Bashiri, “The History of the Manghit Amirs of Bukhara,” in The Samanids and the Revival of the Civilization of the Iranian Peoples, ed. and trans. Iraj Bashiri (Dushanbe: The Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 1998), 243–249; see also Ahmad Makhdum Donish, Risolah yo Mukhtasari az Ta’rikhi Saltanati Amironi Manghtiyah, ed. Abdulghani Mirzoyev (Stalinabad: Nashriyyoti Davlatii Tojikiston, 1960), 12–30. 26 Sadriddin Aini, Ta’rikhi Amironi Manghiti Bukhoro (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1966), 31. 27 Ahror Mukhtorov, Khotirahoi Amir Olim Khan (Dushanbe: Adib Publishers, 1992), 35–36. 28 Ismoilova. Amorati Bukhoro, 15; Donish, “Risolah,” 31–34. 29 Cf. Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 18–19; 27–28.

The Emirate of Bukhara

Amir Nasrullah, aided by his court and clergy, exploited the poor of Bukhara. He could secure a fatwa for almost anything he desired. For instance, he requested a fatwa from the ulema that he could purchase and sell madrasas. As a result, the quality of education in the institutions deteriorated. But more importantly, many talented, but poor students were deprived of receiving an education. Similar fatwas forced the poor to give up their property, wives, and children to the amirs.30 This statement should not be interpreted that Muslims themselves or, for that matter, the Mongols to whom the Manghits related most, were good models of behavior. It tells that in undue killings and rape of locals Amir Nasrullah occupied a special place. Another sorry casualty of the same alliance was the library system of Bukhara, which contained many unique manuscripts about Central Asia and Islam. Those manuscripts had been collected over the centuries for the use of scholars studying aspects of Islamic civilization. Each library, attached to a madrasa, specialized in a different branch of science. For instance, the “Dar al-Shifa” library held the manuscripts on medicine. The city of Bukhara spent large sums from waqf funds for copying manuscripts and repairing torn books. The “Govkushon” library alone spent over 15,000 tangas annually for those purposes.31 Amir Nasrullah’s policies undermined the authority of the custodians of the libraries, and his withdrawal of funds stopped all repairs and canceled all new acquisitions. In addition, Rahmanberdi, the ra’is of Bukhara at the time, divided the manuscripts among the influential ulema and transferred some into a vault for the personal use of the Amir. The books in the vault, due to a lack of use and fresh air, became moldy and had to be discarded. The books given to the ulema, after many years of confinement in private collections, were sold to European book collectors and dealers. The library buildings were repurposed for use by the sons of the khans and bais. When Amir Nasrullah ascended the throne in 1826, the Emirate was a divided agricultural kingdom moving in the direction of becoming an urban kingdom. Its agricultural output was diminishing because many of the workers were either moving to the towns or were joining the military. The urban centers were poor, unsanitary, and crowded. The steppe people, too, were divided and dissatisfied. This state of affairs prompted the Amir to centralize the kingdom. Since Bukhara did not have a standing army to serve as a deterrent against aggression from the neighboring kingdoms, Amir Nasrullah decided to create 30 Cf. ibid., 98. 31 Ibid., 36–37.

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an army for Bukhara. As a result, the centralization of the country and the creation of a standing army became the top priorities for both the kingdom and the Amir. A majority of the population of the Emirate was involved in agriculture.32 This meant that three elements, land, water, and the peasants who worked with them formed the core of the society’s economic output. In order to fulfill his wishes, Amir Nasrullah manipulated those elements which, traditionally, belonged to the state and the amir was the sole distributor of the power they generated. Before this, the amirs bestowed gifts of land to the Uzbek chieftains (other than the Manghits) in appreciation of their contributions to the well-being of the state. Large parcels of land, along with water rights and peasants, were assigned to tribal chiefs. As the owners of the land and those who worked on the land, the chiefs could treat their subjects in any way they wished. They could tax them exorbitantly, as many did, and confiscate their beautiful daughters for their harems. The chiefs even had the right to use the peasants’ sons as attendants in their households, or as officials and infantrymen in their armies. Between the 1750s and 1850s, enjoying the wealth, authority, and the power that such indirect autonomy had placed at their disposal, some Uzbek chieftains, especially three of the Kinegas tribes, had become immensely wealthy, powerful, and increasingly unruly. This to the point that, by the 1850s their power had to be curtailed before the Manghit emirate disintegrated into small fiefdoms ruled by Uzbek chieftains other than the Manghits. In order to stem proliferation of authority in the kingdom, Amir Nasrullah deprived the Uzbek chiefs of their traditional sources of power. Advised by his Tajik and Arab advisors, he undermined the economic and military abilities of the Uzbek chiefs. Rather than awarding gifts of land with families attached, he awarded gifts of land only. As for the youth who would otherwise serve in the armies of the chieftains, he included them in his own newly established regiment of 800 men. This regiment included 250 artillerymen, and the rest were infantry. The core of the army consisted of Russian prisoners.33 Using this military might, Amir Nasrullah undermined the power of the chiefs and displaced them. In this way, the threat of disintegration was averted. Centralization necessarily meant dislocation of the peasants, especially the youth. Rather than working on the land, they came to Bukhara and other towns either to join the army or to find jobs in the growing industrial centers. Many 32 Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 29–32. 33 Ismoilova. Amorati Bukhoro, 46–47.

The Emirate of Bukhara

who came to the urban centers to attend school stayed and were absorbed into the life of the cities and towns. The more enterprising individuals went into independent business and opened stores. They even employed others who shared their ideals and aspirations. They became involved in local and international trade and promoted the arts and crafts of the region. Those who joined the schools became judges, teachers, administrators, and army commanders. For some, life in the village became an experience to which they did not wish to return. Amir Nasrullah was not much liked by his countrymen. They characterized him as a “cruel and bloodthirsty Amir who took nothing and no one into account.”34 Neither was he a perceptive ruler aware of the political dynamics of the world of his time. For instance, during his rule, a growing rivalry emerged between Britain and Russia in Central Asia. After crossing the Orenburg border, the Russians sent ambassadors to Nasrullah’s court to follow up on Amir Haidar’s earlier contact.35 Similarly, the British, having entered Afghanistan with the intention of blocking Russia’s movement in the direction of India, sent ambassadors to Nasrullah’s court to foster political relations. Rather than using those opportunities to promote the region as a whole, Nasrullah engaged his neighbors in petty squabbles. The ambassadors were either killed or held hostage in the Arg prison.36 Only towards the end of his rule (1857) did Nasrullah send a mission to Russia to assess the military might of the country and examine the possibility of establishing commercial relations. Three missions (1869– 1870, 1873–1874, 1875) headed by Ahmad Makhdum Donish, the Amir’s astrologer, were sent to Russia. They all failed both in establishing relations with Russia, and in providing a realistic measure of the military might of the Russian Empire. The chief reason for the failure was that the Amir was interested in getting information about the Russian army much more than in trade and political negotiations. The missions, nevertheless, were beneficial; they acquainted Donish with the reformist thought prevalent in the Russia of the time.37 34 Edward Allworth, “The Modern Uzbeks: From the Fourteenth Century to the Present,” in Studies of Nationalities, ed. Wayne S. Wucinich (Stanford: Hoover Institute Press, 1990), 113–114. For Nasrullah’s treatment of his subjects, see Abdura’uf Fitrat, Davrai Hukmronii Amir Olim Khan (Dushanbe: Palatai Davlatii Kitobho, 1991), 13; see also Donish, Risolah, 30–34. 35 Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 26. 36 Ibid., 31–34. 37 For an account on the life of Ahmad Donish, see Iraj Bashiri, “The Era of Sadriddin Aini,” in Ahmad Makhdum Donish and the Historical Phenomenon of Tajik Culture, ed. Askarali Rajabov (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 2017), 67–109; Iraj

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Donish’s knowledge, as we shall see, was later propagated by his disciples Aini and Fitrat. Amir Nasrullah died in 1860.

AMIR MUZAFFAR Amir Muzaffar was born in 1824 or 1825. At the time of Amir Nasrullah’s death, he was the governor of Karminah. The major event during the reign of Amir Muzaffar was Russia’s advance into Central Asia. Many reasons are provided for Russia’s decision to turn her attention away from Europe to focus on Central Asia. One reason was that Russia intended to satisfy Peter the Great’s wish to reach the warm waters of the Indian Ocean.38 Another view held that Russia, defeated by the Ottomans who were assisted by the British and the French, sought small victories to get over the trauma of the Crimean defeat of 1856.39 Economic incentive was also reasonable: advance into Asia could provide access to raw materials as well as a lucrative future market in Central Asia and further trade opportunities along the Silk Road.40 Lastly, some evaluated the situation socially. They contended that the Russians preferred being lords in the eyes of the Asians rather than slaves in the eyes of the Europeans.41 Those more practical suggested that Russia could not tolerate Britain’s intention to harness the raw materials and human resources of Central Asia. Their rivalry ended in the Great Game, a race to seize control of the Asian territories. As a result, Britain and Russia jointly administered the political and cultural affairs of Afghanistan.42 Of all those factors, the economic incentive is the most compelling. Russia needed to expand its markets, both for the sale of commodities and acquisition of raw materials for the production of new commodities. In 1863, therefore, Tsar Alexander II issued an order for the Russian army to move on Central Asia. In 1864, General Konstantin von Kaufman, the commander in chief of the Russian forces dispatched Colonel M. G. Cherniaev with 2,500 troops and Bashiri, Prominent Tajik Figures of the Twentieth Century (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 2002), 78–81. 38 Louis Dupree, Afghanistan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 363. 39 Salim Ayoubzod, Tojikiston dar Qarni Bistom, ed. Iraj Bashiri (Prague: Post Scriptum Imprimatur, 2002), 11–12. 40 Ayoubzod, Qarni Bistom, 13. 41 Henry S. Bradsher, Afghanistan and the Soviet Union (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1983), 159 42 On the subject of the Great Game, see Bradsher, Afghanistan and the Soviet Union, 9ff.

The Emirate of Bukhara

Colonel Zarevkin with 1,500 troops to Chimkent for the purpose. Von Kaufman intended to expand Russian power gradually and capture the areas bordering the Emirate of Bukhara first and the Emirate itself at the end. As a result of this initial foray into Central Asia, von Kaufman’s troops captured the Qoqand fortress and the cities of Avlia-Ata, Chimkent, and Turkistan. The city of Tashkent surrendered in 1865.43 At the time, Amir Muzaffar was involved in a dispute between Bukhara and the Khanate of Qoqand. Russia suggested negotiations and proposed to mediate. Amir Muzaffar, uninformed about the military designs of Russia, refused this offer of assistance. The partition, the Amir felt, was a Bukharan concern. He felt he could vanquish not only the Khanate of Qoqand, but also the Russian army.44 Disregarding the Amir’s refusal, von Kaufman’s troops continued their march at their own pace and engaged the Amir’s army at Irjar (1866) and defeated it. Bukhara was forced to yield the cities of Khujand, Uroteppa, in present-day northern Tajikistan, and Jizzakh to the Russians. With the fall of the fortress of Yange-Qurghon to the Russians, this phase of von Kaufman’s assault on the Emirate of Bukhara came to an end. Meanwhile, the Russians created a government unit (guberniia) in the region, the Turkistan guberniia, in 1867. It was centered around the city of Tashkent and headed by von Kaufman. In 1868, with 3,500 soldiers, von Kaufman resumed his assault on Bukhara and captured the city of Samarqand. Following the fatwa of the Bukharan ulema, Amir Muzaffar tried to stop von Kaufman from acquiring more territories, but fell short. He was defeated a second time at Zirabuloq. As a result, the Emirate became vulnerable on three fronts. First, politically, Bukhara became a protectorate ( June 2, 1868). The foreign affairs of the Emirate became a concern of Russia, and the Amir’s own authority and activities were drastically curtailed.45 Second, willingly or otherwise, Bukhara had to implement the wishes of the Russian authorities, including reforms in Bukhara’s educational system, judiciary, and religious institutions. Most of those reforms were against the wishes of the Bukharan populace. Third, the Amir himself was reduced to a tool for expanding Russian interests in the southern provinces of the Emirate (that is, the Kuhiston regions of Baljuon and Darvoz, as well as the Badakhshan 43 Donish, Risolah, 39; N. A. Khafin, Politika Rossii v Srednei Azii, 1857–1868 (Moscow: Izdatel′stvo Vostochnoi Literatury, 1960), 201. 44 Cf. Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 43–47. 45 See also d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 37–38.

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highlands, also known as GBAO), even to areas in which the Manghit amirs themselves had not had any prior jurisdiction.46 The terms of the treaty reveal Russia’s long-term plan not only for Bukhara, but also for the entire region. Russia demanded the right to navigate freely down the Amu Darya river. In other words, Russians could move their forces, for whatever purpose, anywhere in the region without having to ask permission. Furthermore, they were adamant about retaining all the land that their army had acquired prior to the treaty. This included the cities of Tashkent, Samarqand, Khujand, Uroteppa, and Katta-Qurghon. They acquired the right for citizens of Russia to buy land in Bukhara and to pay taxes equivalent to those assigned by the Shari’a. They also received the right to establish an embassy and promote trade. Henceforth, Russian merchants could sell their wares in all the cities and towns of the Emirate. Additionally, Russian citizens who committed crimes could not be tried by the Bukharan courts. They had to be extradited to Russia. The weightiest item, however, was the payment of a war indemnity to Russia47 in the amount of 125,000 gold coins (tillo). The loss of control over its foreign affairs, economy, and military was not the only setback for Bukhara. Russia’s determination to “Russify” Central Asia, including Bukhara, was even more disturbing to the Amir. In its efforts to bring Central Asia, Bukhara in particular, out of the Middle Ages, Russia began preparation for the modernization of Bukharan education. The plan included introduction of printing presses, followed by availability of newspapers, magazines, and journals to an increasingly educated populace. Along the same line, labor, both in industry and agriculture, was to be mechanized and systematized. Russian authorities were convinced that a new, dedicated, enterprising, and daring generation of Bukharans would realize that Bukhara, in spite of its dynamism, was backward and needed to be pulled out of its medieval mold. What role the amirs should play in Bukhara’s future was uncertain. Bukhara was to be reformed either with the assistance of the amirs, or despite it.48 With these measures in mind, Russia carefully monitored the instability that resulted from the humiliation of the Amir. In the south, the Amir’s son, Abdumalik Tura, rose and captured the town of Qarshi.49 In this, he was aided by the khans of 46 For details, see Becker, Russia’s Protectorates, 89–92. 47 Cf. Becker, Russia’s Protectorates, 40–41; Ismoilova. Amorati Bukhoro, 11; Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 70–71. 48 This delicate balance is discussed later in the context of the lives of Amirs Abdulahad and Olim Khan. 49 For further detail, see Becker, Russia’s Protectorates, 46–47.

The Emirate of Bukhara

the Manghit tribe, the very tribe on which Amir Muzaffar had planned to draw to defeat his son. In the north, two Kazakh princes, who had been allowed to enter Bukhara and who had been given administrative positions, rose against the Amir. Calling themselves the true descendants of Genghis Khan and the rightful claimants to the throne of Bukhara, they captured Karminah. According to Mirzo Abulazim Somi, a hidden clause in the peace treaty between Russia and the Emirate helped Amir Muzaffar to ask Russia for assistance. The hidden clause allowed Amir Muzaffar to apply for assistance from the Russian government to settle internal problems that he could not tackle on his own.50 Even though during the signing of the 1868 treaty, Amir Muzaffar had intended not to allow Russian troops south of the occupied territories, he now asked for Russian military assistance. Friendship with Russia, Amir Muzaffar’s letter read in part, has created the present disturbance. The Russian army can easily put an end to it. The Russians responded quickly by sending 10,000 soldiers and ten cannons. Strengthened by the Russian aid, and helped by General Aleksandr K. Abramov, Muzaffar attacked Qarshi, overwhelmed Tura’s forces, and returned the region to Bukhara.51 In the Russian Empire, Amir Muzaffar found the force with which he could tame the rebellious tribes of the south, especially the Kinegas, the Qunqurat, and the Serai. By the same token, in Muzaffar, the Russians saw the means for furthering their expansionist plans and harnessing the natural and human resources of Eastern Bukhara, possibly even northern Afghanistan. After all, at the time, the two kingdoms of Bukhara and Afghanistan were not officially separated. This relationship with Russia enabled Amir Muzaffar to bring Hisor and Sherabad, at large since his 1868 defeat, into the fold. His brutal treatment of the Hisoris shocked all of Central Asia. In one day, in front of his own tent, he had a thousand Hisoris beheaded. Reportedly, he watched every individual executed.52 An hour before sunset, four hundred prisoners were still left. The Amir threatened the executioner with death, if the job was not finished by sunset that day.53 By 1870, the principalities of Kulob and Baljuon were also included in the Emirate of Bukhara, and Turkish provincial governors were dispatched there as 50 Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 11. 51 Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 75–76. 52 Fitrat, Davrai Hukmroni, 14. 53 Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 42–43.

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tax collectors. The inclusion of Baljuon, and later Darvoz, is significant in that these regions, inhabited by Tajiks, had never before been associated either with Turkish rule or with Russian administrative practices. In that sense, their inclusion into the Emirate opened a new phase in the history of the Emirate itself. As a part of his reforms, Amir Nasrullah had demoted the Uzbek chieftains and replaced them with Iranian officials. This demotion had created enmity between the Uzbeks (a Turkish people) and the Tajiks (people of Iranian origin). More importantly, it had weakened the power of the Turks and made them vulnerable. To control the Manghits, Russia drew on this division and vulnerability.54 This hierarchy is important. The Uzbeks weakened the Manghits who, to stay on the good side of Russia, did their best in collecting taxes from native Tajiks. Recall that Amir Nasrullah’s efforts at creating an army and arresting the tide of disintegration resulted in the creation of a less rural, more urban and, altogether a more enlightened society. The arrival of Russian officers, administrators, and consultants accelerated the move so that by the end of Amir Muzaffar’s rule, the Bukharan society was unevenly divided. On the one hand, there were intellectuals who sought new-method schools, western-style institutions, and access to information about the activities of the amir and the governmental officials. On the other hand, there were individuals who, following the decrees of the ulema, opposed anything that smacked of secularism, modernism, or Russification. Amir Muzaffar’s legacy for his son, therefore, was a divided community, divided along social, ideological, and economic lines. Like his father, Muzaffar did not avail himself of the assistance extended to Bukhara by Russia and paid dearly for it. Neither did he listen to the advice of his own ambassadors to Russia, like Ahmad Donish. In other words, in spite of the information that was provided to him to strengthen the Emirate’s use of technology, he continued the practice of fomenting discord among the Bukharans and unrest among Bukhara’s neighbors.55 Amir Muzaffar was considered to be a despicable, unethical ruler, devoid of historical understanding and of human consideration. He was uncultured, ruthless, and ideological.56 He died in Bukhara in 1885 and was buried there.57 54 See also d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 89. 55 Allworth, Modern Uzbeks, 114. 56 Ibid., 114. 57 O. Vohedov and U. Bozorov. “Muzaffar,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 4, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1983), 527; see also Donish, Risolah, 34–37 and passim.

The Emirate of Bukhara

* * * Since the events during the rulership of Amir Abdulahad are intimately bound with the dynamics of the lives of the Tajiks in the rural regions in the southern parts of the Emirate, it is important to examine the rural life of the region. In the middle of the nineteenth century, before the coming of the Turkish governors and tax collectors, the people of the Kuhiston were predominantly Tajik farmers. In this, they differed from the populations of Samarqand, Bukhara, and Khujand, who were mostly urbanized Tajiks, Uzbeks, or a mixture of the two (sarts). There were some Uzbek tribes, primarily the Laqai, in the Kuhiston region, but they had very little social contact with the Tajiks.58 Consequently, the governors and the local administrators of the region, too, were Tajiks. Thus, as oppressive as life often was for the peasants, the oppression was from the people they cared for as ethnic kinfolk; in fact, they took pride in serving their own local leaders. Amir Muzaffar’s ignominious defeats, allowed the Russians, with the assistance of the Turks, to push the Tajiks as far south into the mountains as possible. The new Tajik territory was not of any use to the by-then semi-sedentary Turks. The move to Eastern Bukhara, however, disrupted the Tajiks’ ancient traditions. They could no longer resolve their problems their own way. The rule of the region, divided into districts (viloyat), was taken away from independent Tajik governors who were familiar with the needs of their people. Additionally, corruption and oppression displaced the special rhythm, the Tajik rhythm that had made living in the most inhospitable place on the face of the earth bearable. Additionally, according to the Anglo-Russian Convention of 1872, the Amu Darya river was recognized as the boundary between the Emirate and neutral Afghanistan. This decision denied the Tajiks on both sides of the Amu Darya the right to gather together, maintain family relationships, and develop socio-economic and socio-political ties. Economically, the Kuhiston was a reservoir of hardy workers who, as taxpayers, contributed to the treasury in St. Petersburg. Strategically, the stretch from Hisor to Darvoz and the Pamirs provided a buffer against British advances north from India. After the Anglo-Russian Convention, this region, too, became a part of the larger Russian domain. The Emirate was now crown territory. 58 For a different perspective on Tajik-Uzbek relations, see Muhammad Ali, “Let Us Learn About Our Heritage: Get to Know Yourself,” in Central Asian Reader: The Rediscovery of History, ed. H. B. Paksoy (New York: M. E. Sharpe, 1994), 11.

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Expansion and exploitation of its resources were placed among the priorities of St. Petersburg’s political and economic strategy. These circumstances altogether had made Amir Muzaffar the best instrument for the task. And he acted upon it. How else could he pay the war indemnity to Russia?59 To govern the region, a new method of administration was introduced into Eastern Bukhara. Beks were appointed as supervisors of large numbers of administrators all of whom had to be paid, housed, and fed, free of charge, by the Tajik peasantry. In addition, a tax system was introduced according to which each farmer had to pay a certain percentage of his income to the government of the amir who would, in turn, pay the war indemnity imposed on Bukhara, along with appropriate gifts for the Tsar. Those were the circumstances in the Emirate when Amir Muzaffar passed away and the affairs of the realm became the responsibility of crown prince Abdulahad.

AMIR ABDULAHAD Amir Abdulahad was born in 1859 in Bukhara.60 As a youth, in 1881, he participated in the coronation of Alexander III (r. 1881–1894). Later he studied in Russia and was appointed the crown prince of Bukhara by the new Tsar. Abdulahad ruled alongside his father until 1885 when the latter passed away. Abdulahad was proud of his Russian military training, especially of the numerous awards and medallions that he had received as the commander of the Fifth Orenburg Cossacks division. A Sunni Muslim, Abdulahad continued to wear those medallions even though he knew that their artistic compositions included the Christian Cross.61 The rule of Abdulahad was different from the rule of his predecessors. He was the first of the Manghit rulers whose authority, from the beginning of his rule, was not overarching—for every action, he had to consult with Russia— and whose kingdom was divided. Nevertheless, the ninth Manghit ruler was on good terms with both Alexander III and Nicholas II (r. 1894–1917). He maintained a palace in Yalta and visited Russia annually. Russia’s involvement in the affairs of the Emirate had made governance difficult for Amir Abdulahad. Regarding the Russians’ push for modernization, he had to decide whether to join the conservatives and sustain the status quo, 59 Cf. H. Pirumshoev, Ta’rikhi Omuzishi Shurishi Vose’ (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1992), 11–12. 60 Donish, Risolah, 157–174. 61 Mukhtorov, Khotirahoi, 37.

The Emirate of Bukhara

or side with the reformists that Russia supported and challenge the authority of the chieftains and the ulema. The decision as to which social direction the kingdom should take had economic, political, and ideological ramifications. In order to challenge the authority of the Uzbek chieftains, it was necessary for the Amir to decrease the authority of the Uzbeks in his administration. This action further entailed replacing Uzbeks, who had traditionally held prominent positions, with Iranians. Raising Shi’ite Iranians to prominent positions at the expense of the select members of a primarily Sunnite community did not sit well with the Sunni clergy, who themselves were losing influence among the people, as well as at the court. Abdulahad’s inability to resolve these social and political issues divided the Emirate: socially, between the reformists and the traditionalists (not all clergy); politically, between the Iranians and the Uzbeks; and ideologically, between the Shi’ites and the Sunnites. As mentioned, Abdulahad’s Bukhara was dominated by Russia. As it seemed, the Russian Empire was not much concerned about either the well-being of the people, or their security, as long as the population performed the tasks assigned and paid taxes regularly and without incident. In other words, Abdulahad was not only the ruler of a poor Bukhara, but also a figurehead. For instance, he did not have the right to form his own army. When Russia finally allowed Bukhara to maintain an army of 12,000, Abdulahad could raise an army of only 5,000. The equipment for the army consisted of discarded Russian arms. Two small cannons, a gift, crowned the old rifles that took twenty minutes each to reload.62 Two events, both of which had their origins in the rule of his father, were of particular significance during the rule of Abdulahad. One was an insurrection led by Vose’ of Khovaling, the other was the push for opening and maintaining new-method schools in Bukhara. In what follows, we shall discuss the Vose’ uprising in detail and relegate a fuller discussion of the push for newmethod schools to Amir Olim Khan’s rule. The reasons for the Vose’ uprising were diverse. At the heart of them, however, was the Amir’s obligation to pay war indemnity to Russia. For this reason, he appointed his cruelest agents as beks for the Eastern Bukharan bekdoms. The new beks imposed heavy taxes on the primarily-peasant Tajik society, including a separate tax for defraying war indemnity. The beks took away the peasant’s total output and most of his following year’s crop. But they did not spend a cent on providing education, medical care, even roads. Worse yet, to “buy” the silence of the landowners and the merchants, they were officially exempted 62 Aini, Amironi Manghit, 131–133.

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from paying taxes. These circumstances placed the full burden of heavy taxes on the shoulders of the peasants.63 In July 1870, unable to bear the burden any longer, the peasants took action. They approached the bek of Baljuon amicably and asked for a reasonable reduction in taxes. The bek refused their request. In response, some 2,000 peasants, from thirteen villages, invaded the bek’s fort, put it under siege, and, eventually, took it over. The takeover did not last long. Soon after entering the fort, the majority of the peasants were satisfied with taking what little they could carry. After that, they returned to their homes and resumed their normal life. Only a small, revolutionary core remained to face the bek. Receiving reinforcement from the Bekdom of Hisor, the bek suppressed this, as well as a number of similar revolts. Each defeat, of course, added to the discontent of the increasingly suppressed peasantry of Eastern Bukhara. The ascension of Amir Abdulahad (1885) had inspired the farmers with the hope that the new Amir would not require them to pay taxes for the past years of drought. But the Amir and his managers (mir) and foremen (amaldor) disappointed them. The Amir called the peasants who sought a reduction of their taxes “rebels” and ordered his mirs and amaldors to continue the practice established under his father. The ruling specified that farmers who could pay in cash or with crop must pay for three years in full (that is, the payment had to include all the taxes and fees required by the provincial governor and the local bekdom). Peasants who could not pay the full amount should “sell”64 their sons and daughters to the government to serve the new Amir or his beks.65 Another major contributor to the peasants’ problems was the emergence of new organizations like banks that had been created by the Russians to promote trade. Banking began in Bukhara in the 1890s with a Russian bank that facilitated Bukhara’s trade with Turkistan and other regions. It also served the institutions that were in charge of production, export and import. During the protectorate era, Russia dominated Bukhara’s economy.66 Two phases can be distinguished in the development of Russian economic policy 63 For the amount of tax sent to St. Petersburg from Qurghonteppa, Baljuon, and Kulob, see Dosti Sharifov, Ta’rikhi Mukhtasari Baljuon (Kulob: Vazorati Matbu’at, 1993), 62. 64 In fact, a fatwa was issued in this regard. See Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 36. 65 For the relationship between heavy taxes imposed on peasants and the latter’s rebellion, see Piromshoev, Ta’rikhi Omuzish, 16. 66 For a study of the overall setting in which the Vose’ uprising took place, see Sharifov, Ta’rikhi Mukhtasari Baljuon, 54–67.

The Emirate of Bukhara

towards Bukhara: 1860s to 1890 and 1909 to 1917. In phase one, Russia was interested in exporting its commodities in exchange for cotton. There was no indication of any intention on Russia’s part to change the structure of the Bukharan economy. In phase two, Russia not only increased its demand for raw materials, but also added supervisors, equipped with new technology, to push its plans forward.67 Additionally, by adding more organizations and banks, the Russians attracted the farmers, helped them produce more, and made them get deeper and deeper in debt to the Russian banks and organizations. Lending money played a major role in the economic relations between the Russians and the Bukharans. Trade between Russia and Bukhara first took place after Bukhara became a protectorate. It was a simple transaction whereby Russia sold Bukhara bread and steelworks and bought cotton in return. However, trade grew at a considerably good pace, especially when, in the 1890s, Bukhara and Khiva joined the customs system of Central Asia. The following is a record of the progressive nature of the state of trade between Russia and Bukhara during the rule of Amir Abdulahad: Year

Export to Russia

Import from Russia

1907

27 million sums

21 million sums

1908

29 million sums

23.5 million sums

1909

30 million sums

25 million sums

The reason for the growth in trade between the two countries included migration of farmers to the cities to work, expansion of the cotton fields, and entrance of capital from Russia to Bukhara. The above activities had created such new professions as mining, minting, weaving, hide work, soap making, building, and the food industry.68 These demands caused the farmers a great deal of distress, forcing them to seek various avenues by which to contend with the beks’ foremen and the banks’ officials. In order to make their wishes known, the farmers used a whole spectrum of methods, including collective protests, refusal to pay taxes, sending delegates to Bukhara to ask for clemency from the Amir, and leaving Baljuon and Kulob to take refuge in neighboring lands, such as Afghanistan. They could not make any headway. In Afghanistan, they tried to persuade their legendary overlord from the pre-Manghit-era, Miri Zard, to return and 67 Ismoilova, Amorati Bukhoro, 55–56. 68 Ibid., 25–35.

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destroy the power of the exploitative Manghits. But that, as well as the 1855 uprising in which the peasants of Mu’minobod, Mullo Mirza, Mullo Barat, Sa’id, Mullo Davlat, Rahmon, Mullo Nazri, Muhammad Alim, and Odina Muhammad had participated against the beks of Baljuon and Kulob, was of no avail. Then an episode involving Vose’’s blood brother happened and served as a catalyst. It united the people of the Kuhiston under Vose’, the region’s most memorable hero. Also referred to as Abduvose’ and Mullo Vosecha, Vose’ (1845–1888) grew up in the Mukhtor valley of Khovaling, near Baljuon, north of Kulob in the Khuttalon region. While helping his father harvest wheat, he met Anorgul, a Badakhshani farmer’s daughter. They fell in love. The girl’s father, intent to “sell” his daughter to the highest bidder, refused Vose’’s request for his daughter’s hand. Vose’ and Anorgul eloped, settled down, and eventually had three children. Vose’ worked as a farmer during summer and as a juvozkash in his own cotton-seed-oil extraction factory during winter. In 1884, in his absence, Vose’’s blood brother, Nazir, accused of murder was imprisoned in Shahrisabz. Hearing about the circumstances, Vose’ set out on a long journey through Khovaling, Baljuon, Norak, Dushanbe, Hisor, Dihnau, and Ghuzor in search of his blood brother. Along the way he worked as a horse attendant for a bek. After much difficulty, he finally found his blood brother, who was ill at the time. He had fled from prison and was living in Samarqand, in the care of a certain Mullosafar. With the help of Mullosafar and Vose’, Nazir regained his health and accompanied Vose’ home. Mullosafar regarded himself a student of Ahmad Donish.69 Having read Donish’s Vaqoyi’ al-Hikoyot, he openly criticized the shortcomings of Abdulahad’s government and the clergy’s teachings. In the course of their conversations, Mullosafar communicated much of what he had learned about human rights and the power of the peasants to Vose’. Before long, Mullosafar’s “lectures” changed Vose’’s outlook on both government and religion. He, too, began to believe in the collective power of the farmers, and in their ability to reshape their own collective destiny and lives. When he returned to Baljuon from Samarqand, Vose’ talked to his neighbors about his trip to Samarqand. But, more importantly, he talked about Mullosafar and his views regarding amirs and the clergy. From that time forward, every time that the peasants experienced an injustice, Vose’ was sure to gather them together and talk to them about the need to stand their ground against Turkish overlords and to seek independence from Bukhara and Russia. 69 For a brief discussion of Donish’s views, see Becker, Russia’s Protectorates, 201–202; Bashiri, “The Era of,” 76–80.

The Emirate of Bukhara

In late 1885, accused of an assault on a minor official, Vose’ was arrested. While waiting for the bek to punish him, he tamed one of the bek’s restive horses. In response, the bek set Vose’ free. Rather than thanking the bek, Vose’ insulted him and incited the farmers against him. The bek withdrew from the public banquet that was being given in his honor and retired to the safety of his fort. The dissatisfied farmers appointed Vose’ as their leader against the oppressive Manghits. Assisted by a number of brave young men, including Reza, his own adopted son, Vose’ captured a number of villages and mobilized their populations against the government in Bukhara. He also captured the two important towns of Khovaling and Baljuon. The villagers, however, as before, took what they thought was their due and returned to their homes, forcing Vose’ to abandon his plan to attack the Hisor fortress. Vose’ and his core of supporters retired to the mountains and hid there. The bek of Kulob became the first to respond to the bek of Baljuon’s cry for help by sending a large military contingent. The bek of Hisor, too, sent an even more substantial number. Laqai tribesmen, landowners, and others, who felt threatened by Vose’, also marshalled their forces against him. At Vose’’s camp, the rumor that the ranks of the united beks were swelling by the hour, demoralized Vose’’s allies and fractured the uneasy ethnic alliance that had defeated the bek of Baljuon.70 To eliminate Vose’’s growing threat to Hisor and Darvoz, the government used the good offices of Mullosafar. The mullah was promised that Vose’’s surrender would not end in Vose’’s punishment; rather, he would be given land and, possibly, a good job. Mullosafar, a simple mullah, communicated this to Vose’ and convinced him to give himself up. Vose’ accepted. After Vose’ surrendered, Ostonkul Qushbegi, the Bek of Hisor, captured around a hundred and thirty of the rebels. After killing forty of them in Baljuon, he dispatched the rest to Shahrisabz for punishment. As for Vose’, he and two of his close aides were put to death in Shahrisabz in the presence of Amir Abdulahad.71 The extent of the revolt was kept a secret. Vose’’s death put an end to the unrest in the villages of Eastern Bukhara. Now, Abdulahad could attend to other issues in the kingdom, especially, the increasing demand for establishing new-method schools.72 Interaction with Russia had allowed young Bukharans like Ahmad Donish (1827–1894) to become familiar not only with technological advances in 70 See Pirumshoev, Ta’rikhi Omuzish, 7 and 8. 71 See ibid., 9. 72 I. Sharipov, “Jadidiyya,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 8, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1988), 441–442.

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­ ussia, but also with the revolutionary thinking outside Bukhara.73 During the R last years of the rule of Abdulahad, Donish, Abduqodir Khojai Savdo (1823– 1873), Shamsiddin Shohin (1859–1894), Vozihi Bukhoroi (1818–1894), and later Sadriddin Aini (1878–1954) promoted the idea that the type of education delivered in the outdated schools of Bukhara would impact the future lives of all Bukharans, especially the merchant class, adversely. As a result, during the last years of Abdulahad’s rule, particularly between 1905 and 1907, efforts were made to change the educational system of the Emirate from traditional schools (maktabi usuli qadim) to new-method schools (maktabi usuli jadid). The conservative Bukharan clergy opposed the introduction of such subjects as mathematics and geography into schools and rejected the concept of new-method schools altogether. Nevertheless, in October 1908, Amir Abdulahad sided with the reformists and authorized the opening of some reformed schools, in which the teaching was to be in Persian.74 Soon after, however, making a complete reversal, he ordered all new-method schools to be closed (1910).75 The decree also closed the avenue to reform, and to the introduction of technology into the Emirate. This forced the concerned Bukharans to resort to clandestine activities.76 They created an organization called Tarbiai Atfol (Children’s Education). Established in 1910, the organization, intended to educate Bukharan children in arithmetic, geography, and other subjects that were not taught in the regular Bukharan schools. The school was funded and supervised by twenty-eight prominent Bukhara mullahs, teachers, and merchants. Tarbiai Atfol even provided scholarships for the deserving youths of Bukhara to continue their education in Turkey. The closing of the new-method schools in Bukhara coincided with the entrance of a new movement in Bukhara. Called the Jadidist movement, it was the brainchild of Isma’il Gasprinski (1851–1914), a Crimean Tatar.77 An intellectual, educator, and politician, Gasprinski recognized that the Muslim world was in need of educational and cultural reform and modernization. The movement began in the 1880s and continued into the twentieth century. It had both a socio-political and an educational aspect. Helped by the Russians, the educational aspect was carried into Central Asia by reformists like Mahmud Khoja. 73 Donish, Risolah, 140–156. 74 d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 84. 75 Ibid., 85. 76 Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 146–47. 77 For Gasprinski (also Gaspirali), see Charles Warren Hostler, Turks of Central Asia (London: Praeger, 1957), 100–104.

The Emirate of Bukhara

In subsequent years, as mentioned, the followers of Ahmad Donish, including Said Ahmad Khoja Siddiqi (Ajzi), Mirzo Siroj Hakim, Sadri Zio, and Sadriddin Aini promoted the idea among the Bukharan intellectuals.78 We shall return to Jadidism later in the context of Amir Olim Khan’s life. Amir Abdulahad owed much of his success with Russia to his wazir, Nasrullo Qushbegi. Qushbegi had traveled abroad and was in favor of reforms. His stay in Russia had acquainted him with the Russian language. He had access to the newspapers published in St. Petersburg, as well as those published by the Muslim Tatars. In short, unlike the others in the Amir’s entourage, he was familiar with the issues of his time and felt Bukhara could rise to the occasion and pull itself out of its medieval slumber. To maintain a firm control over the affairs of the state, Qushbegi attended all state affairs personally, even if it meant an infringement on the domains of the ra’is and the qozikalon.79 Similarly, the Amir owed his success with the reformists to Damullo Ikrom.80 The followers of Muhammad Ikrom ibn Abdussalom, known as Damullo Ikromcha, were the enlightened population of Bukhara. The Damullo, born in 1847 in Bukhara, was a product of the Bukhara schools but, as an individual, he kept an open mind. In 1896, he traveled extensively and acquainted himself with new social values. With new thoughts and a changed world view, he returned to Bukhara and became its social reformer and ardent critic, especially of its educational system. The weight of his criticism rested on the method of instruction that was employed in the traditional Bukharan madrasas. Ikrom was greatly influenced by the works of Ahmad Donish, a member of the first group of intellectuals that endeavored to enlighten the Bukharans. Ikrom not only rose in support of the Jadidist schools, but also gave them Islamic sanction.81 Using realism as a weapon, in 1910, in a tract (risolah) entitled Fayz al-Naimin wa I’lam al-Jahilin (the awakening of sleepers and a warning to the ignorant), he criticized the superstition pervasive in Bukharan society and lauded the efforts of those who combated ignorance by introducing change. As for Amir Abdulahad, in spite of the socio-political and ideological clashes prevalent in the kingdom, he sought his own comfort. In order to buy 78 Lawrence Krader, Handbook of Soviet Central Asia, vol. 3 (New Haven: Human Relations Area Files, Inc., 1956), 107. 79 Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 143–144. 80 For Ikrom’s biography, see Iraj Bashiri, “Ikrom, Muhammad Ikrom ibn-i Abdussalam,” in The Modern Encyclopedia of East Slavic, Baltic and Eurasian Literatures, vol. 10, ed. Peter Rollberg (Gulf Breeze, FL: Academic International Press, 1996), 76. 81 For a discussion of the Bukharan Jadidists, see Becker, Russia’s Protectorates, 205–209.

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himself solace and comfort, he played the various factions in the kingdom against each other. For instance, he was aware that his own debauchery did not sit well with the ulema. Rather than mend his ways he appointed Qozi Badriddin ibn Qozi Sadriddin of Kulob as the qozikalon of Bukhara. Abdulahad knew that Badriddin, if anyone, could muzzle the clergy and give the Amir the leisure that he thought he deserved. As his first action, to intimidate the rest, the new qozikalon had a number of the prominent ulemas executed in public. He then black-listed many others, offering their high positions, when they became available, to younger, more submissive ulema, who would carry out his behest without question. To further humiliate the old ulema, he offered the new ulema rooms in the madrasas and scholarships (dahyak). The new ulema that entered Bukharan society were neither a threat nor a potential source of discontent and disruption. They were slaves of Qozi Badriddin. Having reached his goal, Amir Abdulahad retired to Karminah and left the affairs of the state to the Wazir Ostonkul Qushbegi and Qozi Badriddin. Badriddin, however, died soon after. His position, rather than to his son, Burhanuddin, was given to Baghokhoja.82 Angered at the appointment, Burhanuddin, the hereditary claimant to the position of the qozikalon of Bukhara, orchestrated a social clash between the traditionalists and the reformists. In reality, it was a political conflict between the Iranians and the Uzbeks, as well as an ideological conflict between the Shi’ites and the Sunnites. For the first time, the reformists, represented by the Qushbegi and Baghokhoja, found themselves in direct opposition to the traditionalists, represented by Burhanuddin. The situation was not an easy one to resolve. Ostonkul Qushbegi and Qozikalon Baghokhoja were of the opinion that the new-method schools would open the way to the new thinking that was increasingly entering Bukhara from Russia. They were willing to allow the new generation of Bukharans to learn Russian and read about the changes in the newspapers that often appeared in the capital. Burhanuddin, on the other hand, opposed the establishment of the new-method schools. He used the disgruntled traditional ulema, especially Mullo Qamariddin, to label his opponents pro-Russian, or pro-Iranian, or proShi’ite and eliminate them. Abdulahad who, as mentioned, had initially accepted to introduce reforms, changed his mind and sided with the traditional ulema. He feared that his real enemies were a group of young Bukharans determined to

82 Aini, Ta’rikhi Amiron, 113–115.

The Emirate of Bukhara

put an end to Manghit rule altogether.83 Their squabbles with the traditional clergy, and their claim of reform of society, he felt, masked the true nature of their intention. Until the time of Amir Nasrullah, Bukhara was monolithically Muslim, bound to the rules of the Shari’a and the dictates of the Qur’an. The mullahs, led by the ulema saw to the proper execution of the laws. Their actions, in turn, were supervised and sanctioned by the amir. Amir Muzaffar’s 1868 defeat changed that situation substantially. The rule of Abdulahad, to a great extent, exemplifies a major problem: the recognition of the role of Russia in Bukhara at the political, economic, and social levels. In a manner of speaking, Bukhara, its amir, and its people faced a catch twenty-two situation. On the one hand, modernization mandated by faroff St. Petersburg had to be heeded and a hefty war indemnity had to be paid by levying heavy taxes. On the other hand, traditionalism was keenly promoted by the ulema who demanded the retention of the traditional madrasas, the teaching of the Qur’an and the hadith, and maintenance of the traditional economic system. As mentioned, Abdulahad placed personal pleasure above all else. Even though the Emirate was already in debt, he continued to borrow from Russia to meet his promises in Yalta. He sold administrative positions to the highest bidders, Shi’ite or Sunnite. His reckless decisions fueled the Sunni-Shi’ite struggle for power, resulting in a massacre in Bukhara. Against instructions from Russia, rather than personally going to Bukhara to settle the matter, he sent Olim Khan, his inexperienced crown prince and governor of Karminah, to settle the conflict. Were it not for Russian intervention, and the actions of General Lilienthal, the situation would have been much worse than it already was.84 In both religious and socio-political affairs, Abdulahad was a conservative.85 Siding with the superstitious views of the ulema and of the population of Bukhara, he opposed the Russians’ decision to exterminate the locusts that ruined the harvest. He reportedly said, “How can we destroy locusts that have been sent by God?”86 Abdulahad died in 1910. His legacy—the thorny issue of the new-method schools, the demands of the Jadidists, modernization, and Europeanization—remained for crown prince Olim Khan to manage. 83 Ibid., 116–117. 84 d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 89. 85 Ibid., 68. 86 Ibid., 51.

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AMIR OLIM KHAN Amir Olim Khan, the last Manghit amir of Bukhara, was born in 1880. He completed his early education in the theological schools of Bukhara. At the age of thirteen, he was sent to the Nicholas Cavalry College in St. Petersburg to study government and become acquainted with new military techniques.87 Due to his father’s request, he finished the course that usually took seven years to complete in three years. He spent his summers in Bukhara. At the conclusion of his studies, in 1896, Olim Khan, who had been appointed the Crown Prince of Bukhara by the government of Russia, returned home and joined his father. After receiving further training from Amir Abdulahad, Olim left Bukhara for Nasaf. He governed that region for twelve years before he was transferred to the northern province of Karminah. Two years after that appointment, Amir Abdulahad died. By the time he assumed the rulership of Bukhara ( January 1911), Olim Khan was already an accomplished administrator. His kingdom, however, wracked by strife, was on the verge of collapse. As a result of the 1910 massacre, Russia, prompted by Petr Stolypin, could have confiscated Bukhara’s uncultivated lands and brought them into cultivation, but it did not. After all, Bukhara was the seat of Islam in the East, and Russia, still stunned by the 1905 defeat at the hands of the Japanese, was not ready to take on the Muslim world over Bukhara.88 This does not mean that Bukhara could take action but that Russia did not want to attract the attention of the Pan-Islamists who were gaining strength in the Middle East and India. Olim Khan’s rule began on a note of optimism. Initially he declared that he would no longer expect or accept any gifts and that he would prevent his officials from demanding gifts from the public, especially from the peasants. He also announced that his subjects would not be solicited for one year,89 and that his officials would no longer be allowed to impose taxes on their own. Furthermore, he informed his subjects that the judges and the clergy would no longer assign fees according to their own wishes and that all state employees would be paid a regular salary by the government. In other words, the population was no longer obliged to provide provision for governmental officials on duty. The public, whose annual income was spent on gifts to the ruler and his 87 Sh. Yusofov and N. Hotamov, “Olim Khan,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 5, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1984), 331. 88 d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 90. 89 Mukhtarov, Khotirahoi, 12–14.

The Emirate of Bukhara

hierarchy of officials, welcomed those measures. They also were happy that they no longer had to satisfy the demands of the mullahs and administrators. They demonstrated their appreciation by sending letters to the Arg, filling the new Amir with pride and joy.90 As the realities of rulership set in, the Amir’s attitude towards gifts, taxes, and salaries changed. Three months after the issuance of the decree, he not only began to accept gifts, but also turned a deaf ear to people’s cries of injustice and discrimination.91 Olim Khan’s rule can be divided into two parts. Part one, 1911 to 1917, coincides with the period of the overlordship of the Russian Empire over Central Asia. During this time, Bukharan affairs, especially Bukhara’s military needs, were Russia’s concern. Bukhara did not have an army of its own. The 12,000 Russian troops stationed there assured the Bukharans’ security against internal and external threats. Part two deals with Olim Khan’s struggle with the Jadidists and the Russian counter-revolutionaries, on the one hand, and with the Javonbukhorion, the Basmachis, and the Soviets, on the other hand. In what follows, we shall examine Olim Khan’s encounter with those movements and groups. We shall begin with the Jadidists. Who were they? The Jadidists were a reformist group that came into existence during the last years of Amir Abdulahad’s rule and were present during the whole length of Amir Olim Khan’s rule. They were mostly Turkish intellectuals who wanted to modernize Bukharan society in general, and the Bukharan educational system, in particular. They intended to accomplish that by introducing technology and other cultural advancements through the establishment of new-method schools and introduction of a new curriculum. As we shall see, in order to reach other intellectuals, especially the parents of children who were to be taught in the new schools, they published the first Persian-language newspaper called Bukhoroi Sharif (Noble Bukhara), which began publication in Kogon, in 1912. In their essays, the Jadidists made sure that the citizenry understood: they did not intend to modernize Bukhara at the expense of the kingdom’s Islamic heritage and way of life (see below). The Jadidists criticized the degree of emphasis that Bukharan schools placed on memorization. They wanted the pupils to understand the import of the text of the Qur’an and of the hadith that they were taught. Summarizing the inadequacies of the traditional system, they charged that the Islamic system had failed to produce graduates with skills necessary to navigate the modern world. 90 Cf., d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 90. 91 Ibid., 91.

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But it was hoped that, following Gasprinski’s method, students would become equipped with tools necessary to deal with the future needs of Bukhara. Predictably, the opinions of the Jadidists and the ulema of Bukhara were at variance. The Jadidists’ opinion of the ulema was that they inhibited modern reform, that their ranks consisted of corrupt elites, and that they were harmful to society. The ulema’s opinion of the Jadidists was the reverse. They thought the Jadidists were un-Islamic heretics whose programs and ideologies should be strongly opposed. Unlike the concerned citizens of Bukhara, the Jadidists made certain demands on the government of the Amir.92 Their demands included abolishment of religious dogmatism; establishment of a new educational system that could respond to the future needs of the Emirate; transforming the medieval cultural norms into modern cultural norms; relaxing censorship; providing freedom of the press; tax reform and, most importantly, acceptance of Jadidist representatives in the legislative and executive branches of the government. The Jadidists even approached the Russian government for assistance so that they could fulfill their task of introducing meaningful change in Bukhara. Between 1911 and 1914, Olim Khan sided with the reformists. He became acquainted with their goals and assessed their aspirations. All that was reflected in the first Tajik newspaper, Bukhoroi Sharif that began publication in Kogon, in 1912, and ended publication, after its 135th issue, in 1913. As, Amir Olim Khan learned, the scenario supported by the reformists did not envisage a place either for him, or for his descendants, as rulers of future Bukhara. He then turned to the traditionalists and secretly supported them. He maintained that position until his flight to Afghanistan in 1920. Supporting the traditionalists, of course, was the Amir’s policy. His strategy differed. On the surface, he reacted to the demands of the Jadidists positively. In fact, on April 7, 1917, he issued a manifesto outlining the changes that he intended to introduce into the Emirate. Elated, the Jadidists, except for some skeptics like Aini, who distrusted the Amir, welcomed the reforms. After all, they were the very reforms that they had been advocating for years. To thank the Amir, the Jadidists threw a celebration in the Rigistan in honor of the Amir and invited him to participate. On the day of the celebration, when the Jadidists were all on hand to welcome the Amir, instead of the Amir, the Amir’s 92 Some sources, like Ismoilova, identify the concerned citizens as Young Bukharans. As we shall see, Young Bukharans who emerged towards the end of Olim Khan’s rule were a separate group with their own particular mission.

The Emirate of Bukhara

henchmen entered the Rigistan and beat up the Jadidists with clubs. The Amir then ordered his officials to hunt down those Jadidists, like Aini, who had avoided the celebration. They were to be captured, imprisoned, and tortured. This, however, did not put an end to the Jadidist movement. The future of the Jadidists, as we shall see, is decided by themselves and the Soviet State. During World War I, Olim Khan acted on the side of Russia. He clandestinely sent both funds and man power to Russia. In Bukhara, too, he contributed to the empire’s survival as much as he could. For instance, it is reported that guided by Russian agents, he used the clergy and his militia to suppress all anti-Russian voices. In 1918, during the month of March, he is reported to have eliminated close to four thousand Russian citizens of Bukhara as well as counter-revolutionaries (see below).93 While Olim Khan was dealing with the Jadidists, another movement grew within the Jadidist movement and threatened the Amir’s rule. Called the Young Bukharans (Javonbukhorion), the movement emerged in 1916 by establishing the Central Bureau of Turkistani Javonon. Its task was expressly to prevent Bukharan rule from falling into non-Bukharan hands. Rather than a government from the outside, they intended to install a democratic republic of their own that respected the traditional trappings of the Bukhara governments of the past. In 1918, the Young Bukharans formally separated from the Jadidists and formed their own organization. The leader of the group was Faizullo Khojaev (1896–1938), who became a major leader in the Bukharan Revolution (1920). The organization supported Fiodor Ivanovich Kolesov (see below). After Kolesov’s defeat, Young Bukharans fled to the Turkestan Soviet Republic. They joined the Communist Party (1920) and, in the long run, contributed to the growth of the Bukharan People’s Soviet Republic. Kolesov, head of the Soviet Turkistan government, came to the aid of the Young Bukharans against Olim Khan. In Bukhara, Kolesov demanded that the Amir should accept Soviet rulership over his kingdom. The Amir stalled Kolesov’s forces by engaging him in a prolonged negotiation. Meanwhile, he marshalled his forces, defeated Kolesov, and forced him to sign a peace treaty between the Soviet Turkistan government and the Emirate. In March 1918, the Amir punished those who had invited Kolesov into the Emirate, especially the Young Bukharans, as well as the Russian citizens of Bukhara who had created problems for the court and the populace. 93 Yusofov and Hotamov, “Olim Khan,” 332.

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One of the major events of Olim Khan’s rule was the rise of the Basmachi movement in the Ferghana valley.94 In 1914, Emperor Nicholas II had promised the Turkistanis that Central Asian youth would not be required to participate in World War I. In 1916, however, due to war necessity, he commanded that Central Asians should enter the war but work behind the front. The reversal caused the Muslims of Turkistan to retaliate and marshal their forces to create an autonomous regional government centered on Qoqand. The Bolsheviks’ efforts to stem the tide of Muslim uprising in the region only strengthened the movement. In March 1917, the first political Muslim association called Shawroi ­Eslamia was established. It supported the provincial government of Turkistan as well as the Jadidist movement. The Shawro’s hope was that the governorate of ­Turkistan would become an independent Muslim state in a democratic Russia. Once R ­ ussia lost its struggle against the Soviets, the Shawro set up a new government called the Qoqand Autonomy in 1918, joining forces with the Jamiati Ulema, a conservative group that originally was established in June 1917. As conservatives, the Jamiati Ulema followed the usuli qadim—the old method—rather than usuli jadid—the new method. They rejected Soviet rule and supported the Basmachis. In November 1917, Soviet rule was established in northern Tajikistan. It also became involved in the conflict between the two factions (the supporters of political reforms and the traditionalists) that vied for supremacy in Bukhara. Originally, the Basmachi movement had little to do with Bukhara but, in the long run, after the departure of Olim Khan from Bukhara, it used the river valleys of Tajikistan as one of its major strongholds.95 At that time, as we shall see below, Olim Khan played a major role in organizing and training the ­Basmachi fighters that fought the Soviets in southern Bukhara. Rather than Olim Khan, however, Soviet power continued to gain momentum. In 1918, it toppled the Qoqand Autonomy and established the Communist Party of Bukhara (Bolshevik) in Tashkent. It also put an end to the Muslims’ aspiration of retaining even a semblance of authority in the region. In spite of 94 For the Basmachis, see Dilip Hiro, Between Marx and Muhammad: The Changing Face of Central Asia (London: Harper Collins Publishers, 1994), 18–20; see also Fazl al-Rahman Marwat, The Basmachi Movement (Peshawar: Emjay Books International, 1985), 1ff.; B. G. Ghafurov, ed., Materialy k istorii tadzhikskogo naroda v sovetskii period (Stalinabad: Institut Istorii Akademii Nauk Tadzhikskoi SSR, 1954), 139. 95 For Soviet retaliation against the Tajiks regarding the use of Dushanbe by the Basmachis, see Michael Rywkin, Moscow’s Muslim Challenge: Soviet Central Asia (New York: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 1982).

The Emirate of Bukhara

a setback as a result of the Kolesov defeat at the hand of Amir Olim Khan, the party held six congresses before it was incorporated into the Russian Communist Party in 1920 and completely dissolved in 1922. The year 1920 began with the formation of the party of Young Bukharans. The group joined the Communist Party and the Soviet government.96 Its members included F. Khojaev, A. Qadiri, A. Muhammadinov, and others. The year also witnessed the departure of Amir Olim Khan to Eastern Bukhara and the establishment of the People’s Soviet Socialist Republic of Bukhara, with F. Khojaev as its first administrator. Some Young Bukharans did not agree with their colleagues who had joined the Soviets, so they joined the anti-Soviet Whites and the Basmachis. During the revolutionary years, the kingdoms of Afghanistan and Bukhara shared the same goal—independence from the superpowers. They exchanged favors in the sense that the Amir of Bukhara expelled the British from Charjou, in present-day Turkmenistan, and the king of Afghanistan helped the Amir fight the Bolsheviks and maintain the independence of his Emirate. The alliance, of course, threatened the new Bolshevik regime which moved to eliminate the Emirate. Between 1917 and 1920, Olim Khan tried very hard to retain a semblance of independence for Bukhara. But his efforts were futile. Russia was no longer able to help, the British were decreasing their influence in the region, and the Soviets were averse to the existence of a semi-independent, Muslim kingdom among their growing union republics. In spite of signing a treaty to stay away from the railroad and ports, the Bolsheviks mounted a surprise attack and, after four days and nights of battle, captured Bukhara. The war between the Soviets and the Amir of Bukhara was not even. The Bukharans fought with medieval weapons against the Soviets’ airplanes that dropped bombs on helpless citizens. That is not to mention that the Russian Empire had not allowed Bukhara to develop an army of its own. Altogether, they had been allowed 12,000 troops. The actual defense of the Emirate had been guaranteed by the Russian Empire that, at the time, no longer existed. Olim Khan left Sitora-i Moh-i Khossa, his private palace, for Ghijduvan. From there, he proceeded south to Hisor. Hoping that Britain and the Ottomans might come to his rescue, Olim Khan stayed in the Hisor fortification 96 F. I. Kolesov (1891–1940) was the chief of the Sovnarkom of Turkistan. In 1918, he led an army against Amir Olim Khan.

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for about six months. But no assistance arrived. On the other hand, General Mikhail Vasilievich Frunze was determined to capture the Amir and send him to St. Petersburg. His relentless pursuit forced the Amir to leave Hisor for Kulob and, eventually, for Afghanistan. Amir Olim Khan spent the rest of his life near Kabul. Most of the early years of his exile were spent on organizing and training the Basmachi armies against the Bolsheviks.97 Like his predecessors, Olim Khan was a traditional ruler. He toyed with the idea of reform only as long as it kept the clergy in line, and as long as he saw the possibility of reshaping Manghit rule to fit the new world. When the price became dear, he did not antagonize the clergy; rather, he walked with them to the end of the line—exile to Afghanistan. The first and only Manghit ruler to add the title of caliph to his name,98 Olim Khan died in 1944 in Kabul, Afghanistan. He was survived by his daughter Shukria Raad Alimi, and three sons Shohmurod, Abdusattor, and Sayyid Umar Alimi. After the Amir’s departure, the wealth of the Emirate was taken over by Soviet overseers; it was assessed and transferred to the treasury.99 Commissions were deployed and every aspect of life in Bukhara was brought under control.100 As for the territory of the Emirate, it was divided among three new republics of the Soviet Union. Samarqand and Bukhara were given to Uzbekistan, northern and eastern Bukhara were given to Tajikistan, and a small portion in the far west was given to the territory of present-day Turkmenistan. The inclusion of the territory of the Emirate in the Soviet empire resulted in both gains and losses for its inhabitants. The fact that the territory was modernized and became prosperous all around was no doubt a gain. A comparison with the situation in the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan proves the point. Conversely, the fact that the Soviets changed the alphabet that the Tajiks had used since the founding of the Samanid dynasty, to which they referred as the ancient ancestors’ alphabet, was a great cultural loss. According to Sohibnazar, the only thing that approaches that calamity in recent times is when the   97 Mukhtorov, Khotirahoi, 16–18.   98 d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 17.   99 For an account of the holdings of Bukhara taken by the Soviets, see Qosim Odinabeki Ghorifi, Amorati Bukhoro: Takhti Vozhgun yo Istiloi Bolsheviki (Dushanbe: Vazorati Matbu’ot, 1992), 10–11. Ghorifi also provides data for the amount of destruction incurred, taxes collected in various provinces, military structure, and the like. 100 M. I. Irkaev, Istoriia grazhdanskoi voiny v Tadzhikistane (Dushanbe: Ministerstvo Narodnogo Obrazovaniia Tadzhikskoi SSR, 1963), 136.

The Emirate of Bukhara

Soviets introduced atheism and tried to distance the Tajik youth from attaining democracy for their people.101 Regarding alphabet change, it should be noted, Sohibnazar forgets that we are talking about the Bukharan society that Ahmad Donish describes and the school curriculums that Sadriddin Aini writes about. Bukhara of the amirs was a relic of the past. It was a testament to what Ash’ari Kalom, on the one hand, and prohibition of philosophy, on the other hand, had done to the legacy of al-Razi, al-Farabi, Ibn Sina, and al-Biruni. In other words, the change of the alphabet first to Latin and thereafter to Cyrillic was an attempt to bring in a semblance of modern education to Bukhara, not the other way around (i.e., distancing the Bukharans from their study of the Qur’an and hadith).

101 Sohibnazar, Subh, 17; For Soviet efforts in familiarizing the Tajiks with atheism, see Muriel Atkin, The Subtlest Battle: Islam in Soviet Tajikistan (Philadelphia: Foreign Policy Research Institute, 1989), 47–53.

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CHAPTER 3

The Sovietization of Tajikistan INTRODUCTION

T

his chapter deals with the establishment of the Autonomous Republic of Tajikistan within Uzbekistan SSR, followed by the inclusion of Tajikistan SSR among the republics of the Soviet Union.1 The intrusion of socialist forces into the Emirate of Bukhara divided the population of the Emirate into defenders of the Soviet way or Soviet Tajiks as opposed to anti-Soviet or simply Muslim Tajiks. Until the advent of World War II the two communities lived apart. During this time, towards the fulfillment of the promise of the dohi (V. I. Lenin), Soviet Tajiks created collective farms including kolkhozes and sovkhozes and paid great attention to industry. The anti-Soviet Tajiks continued their Shari’a-based life in the isolated mountains of Qarotegin. During World War II, war necessity brought the two communities in contact. After the war, the efforts of the Soviet Tajiks materialized in the form of agro-business complexes, hydro-electric stations, and promise of a comfortable life for the ordinary Tajik. The efforts of the Muslim Tajiks culminated in a general awakening of the Tajiks to their lost identity and to hopes for its retrieval. During the last decades of the Soviet Union, a confrontation between Soviet Tajiks and Muslim Tajiks regarding the nature of the constitution of the republic of Tajikistan resulted in a civil war, elimination of the achievements of Soviet Tajiks in agriculture and industry, and passage of the rulership of the republic to the Islamic side.

1 For a thorough study of the dynamics that created Tajikistan SSR, see Masov, National Catastrophe, 51–73.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

FROM EMIRATE TO REPUBLIC The early historical development of Tajikistan into a republic under Soviet rule can be summarized as follows. After the October Revolution, Amir Olim Khan fled to Afghanistan (1920) and the Emirate of Bukhara was dismantled (1921). In its place, the Autonomous Republic of Turkistan and the People’s Republic of Bukhara were established (1917–1924). Both republics accommodated a considerable number of ethnic Tajiks. During these first administrative divisions, the Uzbeks were granted a republic of their own.2 Then the Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic of Tajikistan was placed within the Uzbekistan SSR (1924).3 Through hard work, the Tajiks gained their independence and endeavored to restore Khujand, Qashqa Dariyo, and Surkhon Dariyo to Tajikistan. But their success was limited: only Khujand was returned to Tajikistan, but Samarqand and Bukhara, the traditional cultural centers of the Tajiks, as well as Qashqa Dariyo and Surkhon Dariyo remained in Uzbekistan. During this time, the affairs of the Autonomous Republic of Tajikistan were the responsibility of Executive Secretaries who were assigned by Moscow. It should be mentioned that, in general, the treatment of the local inhabitants by those sent from Moscow left much to be desired.4 For instance, the People’s Commissariat of Nationalities denied the very existence of the Tajiks as a nation in Turkistan.5 After 1929, Tajikistan became an independent republic. During the transition period, many Tajiks changed their ethnic identity from Tajik to Uzbek and remained in Uzbekistan.6 Many more migrated to Eastern Bukhara where they established the Soviet Socialist Republic of Tajikistan with Stalinabad as its capital. During this period, the affairs of independent Tajikistan were the responsibility of the First Secretaries of the Communist Party of Tajikistan (CPT) assigned by Moscow.7 2 H. Tursunov, Obrazovanie Uzbekskoi Sovetskoi Sotsialisticheskoi Respubliki (Tashkent: Izdatel′stvo Akademii Nauk Uzbekskoi SSR, 1957), 76. 3 N. D. Degtiarenko, Razvitie sovetskoi gosudarstvenosti v Tadzhikistane (Moscow: Gosudarstvennoe Izdatel′stvo Iuridicheskoi Literatury, 1960), 31–32. 4 Tsentralnyi partiinyi arkhiv Instituta Marksizma-Leninizma pri TsK KPSS, f. 17, оp. 65, D. 380, l. 2. 5 Degtiarenko, Razvitie, 31–32. 6 See Hassanboi Sharifov, Tojikoni Borunmarzi (Khujand: Rahim Jalil Publications, 1999), 295 and 300. 7 For the status of Tajiks in Uzbekistan, see H. Sharifov, Tojikoni Burunmarzi, 296; see also Sh. Z. Urazaev, V. I. Lenin i stroitel′stvo sovetskoi gosudarstvennosti v Turkistane (Tashkent: Fan, 1967), 225.

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During World War II, the grip of Moscow on Tajikistan was relaxed. The era of Bobojon Ghafurov witnessed an upsurge of cultural activities, allowing the Sovietized Tajiks (hence Soviet Tajiks) to enjoy the results of their accomplishments in various fields of endeavor. This era also witnessed the flowering of the efforts of non-Soviet Muslim Tajiks (hence Muslim Tajiks) both within and outside Tajikistan. Their unexpected involvement in Soviet centers of culture and economy provided them with an opportunity to influence affairs and, in time, take the Soviet authorities to task. The era of Jabbor Rasulov witnessed the full fruition of the Tajiks’ efforts in bringing agriculture and industry together. The Tajiks under discussion are the mainstream Hanafi Soviet Tajik Muslims, as well as radical Hanafi Muslims who, in the past, had been systematically left out of the system. In the 1980s, these discrepancies set the scene for a major confrontation between the Muslims and communists of the republic.

THE TRANSITION ERA After the departure of Amir Olim Khan from Bukhara, his legacy remained for the Bukharans and the Soviets to sort out. Among other things, Olim Khan’s legacy consisted of two unresolved issues: the Basmachi movement in southern Bukhara, and the fate of the Jadidist reformers and the Young Bukharans. In the past, the Basmachis had fought against the Russian Empire for the cause of Islam. After the revolution, they continued the fight against the Soviets. The Jadidists intended to modernize Bukhara by changing its educational system while the Young Bukharans intended to overthrow the ineffectual government of the amirs and install a democratic government. With the end of the Russian Empire approaching, the Jadidists and the Young Bukharans recalculated their options and took sides; some sided with the Basmachis against the Soviets, while the others sided with the Soviets.8 Unlike the Russians, who did not wish to become involved in a war with the Muslim world over Bukhara, the Soviets were not averse to confronting the Muslim world. In fact, they welcomed such a confrontation. They intended to defeat the Basmachis and to force the Jadidists, Young Bukharans, Pan-Turkists,9

8 9

Cf. Serge A. Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism and Islam in Russia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960), 239. For Pan-Turkism, see Hostler, Turks of Central Asia, 93–99.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

Pan-Islamists,10 and Central Asian nationalists to follow Soviet dicta. The question is: Was the fledgling Soviet Union capable of carrying out the task?11 The groups that constituted the leadership core of the Basmachi movement had a single cause: retaining and modernizing the Islamic and national values and institutions of Bukhara within a modern and democratic framework. During its fight with the tsar and with the early Soviets it drew on Central Asians for help, in later years it received assistance from Amir Olim Khan, the Afghans, and the Turkish warriors seeking fame and fortune outside the Ottoman Empire. One such warrior was Enver Pasha, a prominent figure of the Ottoman army. Enver Pasha (1881–1922) arrived in Bukhara, via Ashkabat and Merv, in October 1921, to assist the Soviets. In November, he left Bukhara, joined the Basmachis and, in January 1922, with two thousand poorly armed troops captured Dushanbe. He used Kofarnihon as his headquarters. In April 1922, Enver Pasha refused the Soviets’ offer of peace and, by July, drew the various Basmachi groups together, creating a united force. His soldiers were no match for the Red Army. On August 4, 1922, Enver Pasha’s soldiers were surrounded by the Red Army near the village of Abi Dara and eliminated. Enver Pasha, too, was killed.12 In a way, Enver Pasha’s effort was a revival of the Basmachi movement that, after the Soviets’ elimination of the Qoqand guberniia, had lost momentum. After this victory, Lenin continued his strategy of divide and conquer and, as soon as the report of the Territorial Divisions Committee on administrative divisions reached him, implemented it. As a result, the Turkish peoples of Central Asia were divided along distinct ethnic and linguistic lines. The Tajiks, as mentioned, were placed as an entity within the Republic of Uzbekistan.13 Lenin’s strategy debilitated the Basmachi movement. Its supporters were scattered; some rejoined their kin groups in Tajikistan, while others either fled to neighboring countries, or stayed away from the Soviet centers. The only areas that remained restive and created difficulty for the Soviets were the southern regions of present-day Tajikistan and northern Afghanistan. They, 10 For Pan-Islamism, see ibid., 78–79. 11 See Charles Warren Hostler, Turkism and the Soviets (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1957), 193. 12 For a detailed study of Enver Pasha’s life, see Iraj Bashiri, “Enver Pasha,” in Great Lives from History, ed. Frank N. Magill (Pasadena, CA: Salem Press, 1990), 651–657. 13 For a comprehensive study of the administrative divisions, see Masov, National Catastrophe, 19–50.

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too, eventually calmed down. Southern Tajikistan did not accept Soviet rule right away, but it did not oppose it as openly as it had done during the heyday of the Basmachi movement. As for the Jadidists, those who accepted conformity did much better under the Soviets than under the amirs. Jadidist leaders, influenced by political movements elsewhere in the Muslim world (for example, in Egypt, the Ottoman Empire, Iran, and Afghanistan), and the anti-colonial struggles in India, communicated with Soviet authorities with much more ease than the Basmachis. After all, the programs, organizations, and beliefs of the Jadidists had originally been supported by the intellectual and ideological forces unleashed in Russia. Some Jadidists went as far as becoming card-carrying communists. This, however, did not mean that the Soviets and the conforming Jadidists and Young Bukharans trusted each other. Distrust existed on both sides. The Soviets were aware of the latent power of the Turkistanis, especially in its Pan-Turkic/Pan-Islamic context. They knew further that the Turkistanis intended to overthrow Soviet rule by using Soviet institutions. On the other hand, the Soviets needed the services of the Jadidists and Young Bukharans like Faizullo Khojaev to consolidate their grip on Central Asia. For the time being, they promoted Khojaev to the position of the first leader of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Bukhara.14 Similarly, the Jadidists and Young Bukharans were aware that the Soviets had needed their services to organize the affairs of Central Asia. They also knew that once the Soviets overcame that hurdle, the Turkistanis would become expendable. Their experience in Qoqand had taught them not to trust the Soviets. The Soviets had not only eliminated the Qoqand governorship, but they had targeted and punished the unions and the tribal organizations that had supported it. The administrative divisions of 1922–1924 were yet another direct indication of the precarious positions of the Basmachis, the Jadidists and the Young Bukharans within the Soviet system. Lenin’s actions indicated very clearly that Central Asians should either abandon their dream of creating an independent democratic state within—or outside—the borders of the Soviet Union, or face the consequences of their actions. By the 1930s, when Soviet rule was established (see the section on the era of the executives below), the administrative divisions were implemented fully. The Turkish tribes were accommodated in the newly established republics: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan. The Tajiks, because of 14 For Khojaev’s life, see Abdullaev and Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary, 113–114.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

their Iranian roots, but more importantly, due to their Basmachi ties, were shorn of their cultural wealth; they were assigned to far-off mountainous regions. In the mid-1930s, Young Bukharan elites like Khojaev, labeled nationalists, were eliminated without remorse.15 Other prominent leaders of Tajikistan who had not been faithful to the system, like Husynov and Shadunt (see below), were also eliminated. Conversely, figures like Sadriddin Aini and Abulqasim Lahuti, who did not dream about building a different nation than the Soviet Union, were promoted and allowed to prosper in Stalinabad. In fact, their works were published widely and their names graced theaters and opera houses dedicated to them. In what follows, we shall discuss some of the events that took place in the early days of the Soviet Union that shaped the lives of the Soviet and Muslim Tajik communities. The study will concentrate on the dynamics of change as the various ideologies, like Islam, supported by different Muslim communities, Soviet Islam, imposed by the communists, and atheism tried to coexist.

SOVIET AND MUSLIM TAJIKS The religious map of Tajikistan includes Muslims (Soviet, radical, Wahhabi, Isma’ili) and non-Muslims (including large and small populations of Christians, Jews, Hindus, and other faiths). For this study, the dominant Soviet Tajiks are defined as mainstream Hanafi Muslims on whom Islam sat lightly. They could be practicing or non-practicing Muslims who regarded religion and politics separate from each other. They followed the direction of the muftis assigned by the Soviet system. The majority of Soviet Muslims learned the Russian language and followed the dictates of the socialist order. Muslims who did not accept Soviet dicta and who tried to live outside the system were either radical Hanafi Muslims or Wahhabis belonging to the Hanbali sect of Islam.16 Radical Muslims were pious, practicing Muslims who believed in the rule of the Shari’a dispensed by an Islamic judge (qodi) under the supervision of a caliph. On the surface, the radical Hanafis and the Wahhabis looked the same and acted similarly, but in reality they were distinctly different both in their practice of the religion and in their creed. Isma’ilis were 15 Shoshana Keller, To Moscow, not Mecca: The Soviet Campaign Against Islam in Central Asia, 1917–1941 (Westport: Praeger, 2001), 235. 16 For Wahhabis, see Amirsho Khatloni and Abdulali Istaravshani, Tufon: Sangak Safarov va Faizali Saidov (Dushanbe: Matbai Avvalini Vazorati Matbu’ot, 1993), 5, 12, passim.

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a minority among the Shi’ites who lived in the river valleys of Badakhshan, but also in Dushanbe.17 They will figure prominently in the political life of Tajikistan in the 1990s. We shall return to Islam in Tajikistan further below.

ESTABLISHMENT OF SOVIET AUTHORITY Between 1921 and 1925, under socialism, almost all the energy of the new Tajik society was spent on two issues: establishment of Soviet rule and elimination of the Basmachi resistance. It was clear that as long as the Basmachis were not defeated, that is, brought within the fold, or forced into exile to join their supporters in Afghanistan, there would be no opportunity for the implementation of progressive measures in what used to be the southern flank of the Emirate of Bukhara. In fact, freeing the countryside from brigands and anti-revolutionaries became a prerequisite for serious consideration of reform in the region. The Basmachi movement, however, continued for much longer than the Soviets had expected, especially with the implementation of Stalin’s assault on Islamic institutions. The prolongation of the fight with the Basmachis proved detrimental to the well-being and growth of the Tajiks because they had allowed the Basmachis to move about freely in their river valleys and, to a degree, because they had assisted the Basmachis in their anti-Soviet efforts. Therefore, a long delay occurred before any Soviet plans for progress were developed for Tajikistan. Whereas plans for the other republics were implemented as early as 1924, similar plans for Tajikistan did not begin until 1927. Additionally, due to its restive nature, Tajikistan was deprived of its right of nationhood. During the 1924 national-administrative divisions, rather than being granted independence, for the next five years, Tajikistan was placed under the auspices of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Uzbekistan. Plans for rebuilding Tajikistan that were approved at the national level after the Basmachi wars, were either delayed by Uzbekistan, or were not initiated. The funds allotted for Tajikistan were spent on Uzbekistan’s pressing needs.18 The executive secretaries sent from Moscow, not being ethnic Tajiks, were more worried about Sovietizing the population than fighting for Tajikistan’s rights and identity. In 1927, when the development 17 For impact of Wahhabism and Salafism on Hanafi Tajiks, see Martha Olcott, Roots of Radical Islam in Central Asia (Washington DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2007), Policy File 77, 10–12. 18 Sharifov, Tojikoni Borunmarzi, 294.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

of natural and human resources of the region was considered in the Fifteenth session of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU), Tajikistan was treated as a divided nation. Planners adopted the existing north-south geographical division. The fact that the natural resources of the north and south were mutually exclusive made the division easy; in fact, it made it logical and thereby justifiable. The north (Leninabad) was targeted primarily for industrial development, while the south (Kuhiston) was slated for agricultural development. The north-south division plays a major role in the future socio-political and cultural dynamics of Tajikistan (see below). The Soviet authorities, especially social engineers, were either totally uninformed about Tajikistan’s ancient and medieval heritage—the legacy of Cyrus and Darius, on the one hand, and Ismo’il Somoni, Ibn Sina, al-Biruni and many more, on the other hand—or they were aware but closed their eyes to it.19 It is also possible that they allowed themselves to be influenced by the Uzbeks who misinformed them about the Tajiks. In any event, in devising and implementing plans for the republic, the Soviets treated the Tajiks as ignorant participants who had to be educated about the most obvious aspects of life. Perhaps they felt that the Islamic mindset of the Tajiks had to be altered.20 The Soviets explained that their plan for Tajikistan included two major components: the people of Tajikistan (regarded as mainstream Soviet Muslims) and the land of Tajikistan, primarily territories in the south and the center. They explained that both components already existed, albeit in their original, uncontrolled, and unorganized shapes. The Tajiks were taught how to expand the function of those components and how to redesign their form and usage. Thus far, they were told, they had exploited elements in isolation and had been satisfied with limited yield. In addition to milk, for instance, they could have provided various milk products, or in addition to wool and hide, they could have provided wool and hide products, respectively. In the case of water, they pointed to the establishment of fisheries and the use of water for the production of hydroelectric energy. In the case of land use, in addition to foodstuffs, they could extract minerals and create petrochemical products. By putting the good land of Tajikistan and its abundant water resources to good and proper use, they said, the Soviet Tajiks could create orchards capable of feeding into factories producing countless consumer goods. 19 See Iraj Bashiri, Ancient Iran: Cosmology, Mythology, History (San Diego, CA: Cognella, 2016), 5–12, 15–46, passim. 20 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 20.

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Those plans sounded constructive, especially when they obviated the shortcomings of traditional practices enshrouded in ignorance and fed by superstition. The question for the Tajiks was: What steps should they take to realize the potential that the authorities foresaw? At the least, the response was disconcerting and, at the most, outrageously alarming. To build the ideal society outlined above, the Tajiks were told, they must abolish their religious practices, close their traditional Islamic schools, and attend modern ABC schools. Graduation from the ABC schools, they were told, would open new vistas in their lives. More importantly, the instruction provided by the ABC schools would connect them with the rest of the civilized world. Similarly, attending lectures on atheism would make them knowledgeable about their affairs and liberate them from the influence of the Muslim clergy. In medicine, rather than following the prescription of traditional ishons, they would follow the advice of expert physicians and nurses in health-care centers and, in matters of law, they would use Soviet courts presided over by experts in jurisprudence.21 Those steps, the Tajiks were told, would transform their society from a hierarchical, exploitative, capital-oriented society into a classless society of sharing. They would become members of a classless society populated with ordinary workers, simple peasants, and knowledgeable scientific workers. In that society, every individual was granted free housing, free education, free healthcare, and lifetime employment. For labor, individuals would join a sovkhoz, a kolkhoz, a factory, or an institute. Funds would be allocated centrally, on the basis of proven need. Provision of expertise for various fields would be the responsibility of the scientific workers in the academies of science. Experts who graduate from the academies would enter such unions as union of writers (including novelists, short-story writers, and poets), union of textile workers, union of cinematographers, union of metal workers, or union of miners. The European Soviets who were imposing those limits on the Muslim societies of Central Asia were aware that their conduct was inappropriate. They knew that the rules devised by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels in the Communist Manifesto were intended for transforming industrialized Europe into a socialist state. They were also aware that the rules, as they stood, were too advanced for most European countries, including Russia that, at the time, was still primarily a rural country.22 Most importantly, they knew that for Muslim 21 Atkin, Subtlest Battle, 58–59. 22 Gregory J. Massell, The Surrogate Proletariat: Muslim Women and Revolutionary Strategies in Soviet Central Asia 1919–1929 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1974), 38–43.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

Central Asia, especially for Tajikistan, those rules were totally unworkable. The situation required improvisation. To deal with the situation, Soviet planners devised new rules and strategies such as a strategy of tolerance. Rather than force the Central Asians to become communist, socialist, or atheist by fiat, they decided to convince the Central Asians to choose socialism as a better alternative on their own. In this, they intended to avoid the mistake that the Muslims had made when they had tried to Islamize Bukhara. Narshakhi explains that process: At the end, the army of Islam conquered Bukhara. But, every time that the army left the city, the people returned to their pagan ways. Qutaiba ibn Muslim converted the Bukharans three times to Islam and every time they reverted to their pagan ways. The fourth time, Qutaiba fought his way into the city and installed Islam in peoples’ hearts. When the situation became difficult, the Bukharans accepted Islam overtly. In their heart, however, they remained faithful to idolatry. In search of a solution, Qutaiba ordered that each Bukharan family should give up half of its home and household to an Arab family so that Arabs become an integral part of the life of the Bukharans. In that way, Qutaiba thought, the Bukharans become Muslim by necessity, because the Arabs would know if they were not keeping the faith.23

As a result of their tolerance plan, the Soviets allowed limited religious activities in the republic. For instance, they allowed mosques in the large cities to operate on a limited basis. Mosques in townships and villages were either closed or converted. More importantly, in order for their activities to proceed smoothly, they kept the Islamic religious authorities away from the centers of power.24 Next, they targeted family and family relations for change. Young women were incited to rebel against the traditional order, become conversant in Soviet culture, and recruit other like-minded women for the cause.25 The idea was that Tajik women, indeed Muslim women in general, are more religious than Tajik men. Changing their worldview on Islam, they thought, would facilitate the task at hand.26 Tajik men, on the 23 Gh. Ashurov and M. Dinorshoev, “Islam,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 3, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1981), 22. 24 Sohibnazar, Subh, 18. 25 Massell, Surrogate, 96–120. 26 Atkin, Subtlest Battle, 11–12; R. M. Madzhidov, Osobennosti formirovaniia ateisticheskogo mirovozzreniia zhenshchin (Dushanbe: Donish, 1977).

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other hand, felt that it was their responsibility to gather women together and direct them.27 The Soviets’ persistence to disrupt the family infuriated the aksakals. Calling the Soviet’s assault on their traditional ways (hujum) aggressive, they set out to suppress it. But the Soviets were determined to make their plan work. They assisted the women in their inevitable confrontation with their male relatives by providing legislation that protected family life against male aggression. In addition to working as social workers, the Soviets needed the women to work in cotton fields and factories. In order for women to work shoulder-to-shoulder with men they had to be educated.28 The Soviets had the attention of most of the Tajiks as long as they proposed progressive and innovative plans for building a better Islamic community with better use of resources and man power. But once the Tajiks realized that the Soviets’ plans contradicted the sacred tenets of Islam, that they threatened the divinity of Allah, the prophethood of Muhammad, the authority of the Qur’an, and the centrality of prayer in their daily lives, their tolerance, especially the tolerance of the Tajik ulema gave way to uncompromising resistance. The Soviets’ attitude towards kalym (bride purchase price), levirate (marrying a deceased brother’s wife), marriage age, number of wives, divorce rights, emancipation of women, and educating girls pushed some Tajiks away from Soviet centers and into Basmachi hands.29 But, before long, the Basmachi wars ended and the Tajiks’ opposition to change became impossible. The turn of events also affected the Soviets’ attitude regarding the imposition of their laws. The authorities became rigid and uncompromising. In the process, they abolished the office of the qodi and deprived the ishons of their previously held respected positions in the community. In fact, the ishons became tantamount to ignorant parasites and objects of ridicule. The Soviets also burned almost all the religious literature, including the holy Qur’an, closed almost all mosques, maktabs, and madrasas, and separated education and politics from each other and from religion.30

27 M. S. Dzhunusov, Ob istoricheskom opyte stroitel′stva sotsializma v ranee otstalykh stranakh (Moscow: Gospolitizdat, 1958), 224. 28 Cf. ibid., 226–246. 29 Massell, Surrogate, 136–137; see also Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 43. 30 Alexandre Bennigsen and S. Enders Wimbush, Muslims of the Soviet Empire: A Guide (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986), 90–93.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

TRANSFORMING TAJIKISTAN At the beginning of the Soviet era, Tajikistan faced two major problems. First, it was a backward, medieval state in which caravan roads connected the towns with the neighboring villages (qishloq). It was also a land enmeshed in intrigue ruled by an assorted group of traditionalists (qadim), modernists (Jadidist), Pan-Islamists, and Pan-Turkists. The second problem was larger than the first. Basmachi units had placed their anti-Soviet personnel in the towns and qishloqs of Tajikistan, they used the mountainous terrain, and the innocent peasants living there, as their main sources of provisions, security, and strength. The European Soviets, fully cognizant of the potential of the region for development, did not waste any time putting their social engineers, educators, mechanical engineers, agronomists, and psychologists to work. These cadres replaced the old elite (that is, the Turkish hierarchy of khans, biis, and beys), as well as the aksakals that had administered the affairs of the region since the late 1860s. At the cost of undermining the reliable traditional management that had sustained order in the region over centuries, these new cadres set about surveying the resources of the region and drawing up plans for their systematic exploitation, irrespective of the views or concerns of the indigenous population. By late 1920s, when the era of the executive secretaries was drawing to an end, this efficient cadre had examined the nature, value, and benefit of the traditional order; and had decided what elements of that order were worth keeping, what parts should be replaced with functions in keeping with the socialist order and what parts should be discarded. At the end, a blueprint was provided indicating a different manner of deployment of the same natural resources, man power, and loyalty. All that, of course, for a greater yield, a higher benefit, and creation of unbending obedience to the system. The new rules and regulations imposed by the Soviets in order to carry out their mission put a great deal of pressure on the Muslims of the region. The pressure was intense enough for many to emigrate to neighboring countries, including Afghanistan, China, and India. In fact, a large number fled to the Middle East, especially Turkey. The descendants of the Amir of Bukhara and his friends and associates, for instance, took refuge in Pakistan for a while before they settled in Turkey, Germany, and the United States. Those who remained in Tajikistan were subjected to inquisition and purge. Consequently, by the end of the 1930s, Islam disappeared from Central Asia, including Soviet Tajikistan.

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At least, that was the picture that the Soviet authorities of the time painted regarding the battle between Islam and atheism.31 Based on the Communist Manifesto, the Soviet’s plan projected a harmonious process for the integration of agriculture and industry. The principles of the plan included: reorganization of the traditional resources irrespective of their urban or rural orientation; introduction of collectivization with state and collective farms;32 integration of the duties of farmers with those of administrators, supervisory personnel, party functionaries, teachers, and clerks.33Also included were introduction and building of machine tractor stations (MTS) to meet the needs of mechanized farming; introduction of technology and utilization of scientific techniques for the extraction of underground resources, promotion of light industry, and reclamation of potentially arable land; in addition, the building of appropriate canals, dams, and factories in each region based on the recognized needs of the region in the larger context of the nation; building a narrow-gauge, local system of rails; harnessing the rivers for the production of hydroelectric energy needed by factories, institutions, and for the electrification of the collective farms; conversion of appropriate towns and qishloqs to industrial centers, and building of new urban centers as needed. What the planners saw in southern Tajikistan was a stretch of land with access to a substantial network of rivers. These rivers included Vakhsh and Kofarnihon with their tributaries; Varzob and Qaratoq; and Panj and its branches, including the Qizilsu. The planners were aware that a main canal on Vakhsh alone had the potential of operating up to eight hydroelectric stations including Norak, Boighozi, Sarband, Sharshar, and Markazi. With just this network, they could meet the energy needs of southern Tajikistan. With the addition of the Panj and its vast network of tributaries, they could electrify the entire republic of Tajikistan, as well as a good portion of the southern republics of the Soviet Union. The building of the structures outlined above required a large body of management workers. It also required lower-level industrial workers, as well as amenities that would persuade industrial workers to join the operation, and contribute their skills and ingenuity to the development of the region. To meet 31 M. Khalmukhamedov, “O chem govoriat musul′manskie propovedniki,” Nauka i religiia 6 (1969): 56–58. 32 Krader, Handbook of Soviet Central Asia, vol. 3, 912. 33 Ibid., 914.

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those needs, the planners took several important steps. They distinguished one of the major cities of each region (viloyat) as a regional center. Lesser cities were slated to become district centers, while the qishloqs would become industrial towns (posiyolka).34 The viloyats were urged to integrate their agricultural and industrial resources and were allocated funds accordingly. They also established the foundation of a new educational system as well as a series of modern communication, administration, and commercial centers. The planners realized that the building of factories would necessarily attract untold numbers of workers to the viloyat centers and posiyolkas. Those people, of course, would want to work in the factories close to their qishloqs, and more importantly, they needed accommodation. The educational varieties (ABC schools and maktabs) have their roots in the efforts of the Soviets at educating the nation at this time. Consequently, an elaborate system of urbanization, raising the status of appropriate qishloqs to posiyolkas, was introduced. These urban centers were planned to sustain the needs of their inhabitants from childhood until they enter society as contributing members. Even the recreational needs of the future inhabitants of the region were planned. This entailed the refurbishing of the old fortifications, restoring places like Hisor and Kulob to their ancient glory, and excavating around Norak for the remains of ancient Sughdiana. In this same context, the city of Stalinabad was to receive a large number of monuments dedicated to such eminent figures of Tajik culture as Abu Abdullah Rudaki, the pioneer literary genius of Persian poetry,35 Abu Ali Ibn-i Sina, the celebrated physician and philosopher,36 and Abulqasim Ferdowsi, the national epic poet of the Iranian peoples,37 as well as such major figures from the Soviet era as Sadriddin Aini, Abulqasim Lahuti,38 and Grigorii Potovskii.39 In addition, eight restricted areas were selected in which various types of rare animals and plants could be safeguarded, studied, and appreciated. 34 Posiyolka is the Tajik version of the Russian poselok. 35 See Glossary; Iraj Bashiri, “Abu ‘Abd Allah Rudaki: An Appreciation,” in Rudaki: sarchashmaho, an’anaho va tamaddun, ed. A. Rajabov (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the ­Republic of Tajikistan, 2007), 348–352. 36 See Glossary; Iraj Bashiri, “Ibn Sina,” in The Modern Encyclopedia of East Slavic, Baltic and Eurasian Literatures, vol. 10, ed. Peter Rollberg (Gulf Breeze, FL: Academic International Press, 1996), 52–56. 37 See Glossary; Iraj Bashiri, Firdowsi’s Shahname: 1000 Years After, 3–12. 38 See Glossary. 39 See Glossary.

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Transportation within the region was planned to be carried out by rail. The Termez-Qurghonteppa-Yovon line would carry raw materials to Yovon, and would move manufactured goods from Yovon to the other industrial centers and abroad. Due to the mountainous nature of the terrain, automotive transportation was not to eclipse the use of animal transport. The Panj and Amu rivers, too, were included as contributors to aspects of transportation. The idea was that the provinces, after they underwent transformation, would create a network of shared agro-business interactions whereby they would provide mutually exclusive commodities and exchange them among themselves. The centers were organized to produce foodstuffs, as well as specialists in one or two exclusive commodities for which they would be known. For instance, while all the centers produced dry fruits, grain, and animal feed, only specific centers would contribute silk, karakul lamb, and rock salt. It was this network, but more so the agricultural and mineral resources of this region, that had attracted the attention of the Soviet planners and moved them to action. With the planning phase completed, the building of the new socialist republic began in earnest, each decade adding its own contributions. In the early stages, a casual observer would not perceive the change immediately. Many of the ancient cities continued to resist change. Besides, many peasants preferred the plow to the tractor and many others advocated a return to the old ways. For rural women, it took twenty years to discard their veils (faranji). The number of nonconformists, however, was decreasing as were the number of donkeys, mules, and carts that carried the produce to market. Eventually, the Eastern Bukhara of the amirs became increasingly engulfed in the throngs of Soviet engineers, managers, and agronomists attracted to Tajikistan by the republic’s natural beauty and potential for development. The following are some of the gains of the Soviet Tajiks during the early years of Sovietization. Before the October Revolution, the Tajiks did not have any real industry. There were small factories for cotton production, cotton-oil extraction, and glass making.40 During 1925/1926, for instance, the Soviet government provided 90% of Tajikistan’s budget.41 Three years later, in 1929, Tajikistan began building MTS centers. By the end of the second five-year plan, there were 45 40 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 10. 41 Ibid., 11.

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MTS centers. Their contribution included 3,217 tractors, 44 combine harvesters, 1,692 plough tractors, and 158 harrow tractors.42 By the early 1930s, Tajikistan was becoming a modern republic with a growing industrial base in the north, and a burgeoning agricultural enterprise in the south. The record of production of devoted Tajik workers, driven by ideology, confirms this view. The record includes 2,200 units of labor and 19 MTS centers with 1,284 more tractors. Cotton production expanded from 38,000 tons (1928) to 50,000 tons (1932), and Tajikistan became the sole source of long fiber (daroznakh) cotton in the Soviet Union. The Tajiks’ hard work was rewarded by opening a textile factory (kombinat) for shohibofi43 in Dushanbe. The kombinat created more work and more jobs. The addition of the Termez-Dushanbe railroad boosted commerce. The combination of the dedication of certain Tajiks to the communist ideology, and their hard work paid off. Within a short time, the net income of the inhabitants rose from 65 million sums to 112 million sums. In 1929, these gains were crowned by independence from Uzbekistan. With assistance from the Center, Tajikistan, which before the Revolution had spinning, weaving, tile work, metal work, and woodwork as its main industries, began to produce fuel, foodstuffs, textiles, and construction materials on a large scale and on its own.44 By building a brick factory in Dushanbe in 1932, the Tajiks paved their way to partial economic independence within the Union. The growing needs of agriculture required the generation of more and more electric power. In the south, the Varzob Hydroelectric Station and a series of lesser stations at the district (raion) level were completed and put into operation. In 1937, plans were made for the first mechanized textile factory (kombinati bofandegi) to be built in Dushanbe. In addition, by 1938, another group of 45 MTS centers, with 3,217 more tractors, were added to the work force. With the development of the Vakhsh valley, and the institution of several more kolkhozes and sovkhozes, a good portion of rural Tajikistan was transformed into an agro-industrial region, leaving only traces of its feudal past. It is important to note that as the number of kolkhozes grew, so did the farmers’ understanding of 42 B. Antonenko, “Kolkhoz Kononii Khojagii Qishloq,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 3, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1981), 375; see also Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 15. 43 See Glossary. 44 Cf. Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 6.

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the new system. By the 1930s, kolkhozes were well established and the class of kulaks,45 who had been the greatest stumbling block in the way of progress, were exiled or eliminated.46 Sohibnazar distinguishes the early years of Soviet rule as the era that all Tajiks remember because many of their ancestors, especially the rich, were divested of their properties and killed.47 A growing nation is always in need of upgrading its agro-industrial base. Tajikistan was no exception. As foreseen in the 1927 all-Union plan for the region, it was necessary for Tajikistan to move, albeit slowly, from a light industry region to a complex oriented towards heavy industry. As a result, more hydroelectric stations dotted the Varzob river and the Kuhiston region in the south. More importantly, the entire region became an exclusively cotton production center equipped with its own small textile and local industries. By 1942, 51 MTS centers with 3,844 more tractors were added to the work force.

THE EXECUTIVE SECRETARIES Between 1924 and 1930 Tajikistan was ruled by Nusratullo Makhsum Lutfulloev, Shirinsho Shotimur, Chinor Imomov, Abduqodir Muhiddinov, and Abdurrahim Hojiboev. In 1924, when Nusratullo Makhsum became the ruler of Tajikistan, the newspapers Ovozi Tojik (Tajik Voice) and Shu’lai Ingilob (Flame of Revolution) were published for the first time. This was also the year that Lenin passed away and the Soviet Republic of Bukhara was divided into the Republics of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. In view of this, Nusratullo Makhsum traveled to Tashkent to inquire the reasons for keeping the Tajiks from influencing the decisions made by the Territorial Divisions Committee, but his efforts were futile. In September 1924, the Bukhara Soviet Socialist Republic displaced the People’s Republic of Bukhara and the Tajik Autonomous SSR was created within it. In 1925, Abulqasim Lahuti was appointed head of the Soviet State Literature. He brought a printing press to Tajikistan from Termez and began publishing textbooks and newspapers. Altogether four books were published in the Tajiki language in the Autonomous Republic of Tajikistan within Uzbekistan as opposed to 268 books in Uzbeki in the same year. The newspapers Bidorii Tojik (Tajik Awakening) and Donish/Binish (Knowledge/Foresight) were published for the first time. 45 Those who did not report their wealth to the collective. 46 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 15; Sohibnazar, Subh, 31. 47 Sohibnazar, Subh, 10.

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Soviet authorities began familiarizing the Tajiks with the new world awaiting them. Cars were seen in Dushanbe for the first time in 1926. In 1927, a committee was set up to Latinize the Arabic-based Tajiki alphabet within five years. The old script was referred to as a relic of the Jadidist past. The Soviet Tajiks, especially those who had given up their privileges as natives of the land, protested, but to no avail. The change to Latin, the Tajiks were told, would bring them within the sphere of the technologically-oriented West. The Tajiks, however, interpreted the change as a ploy to distance them from their unique source of ideology (that is, Islam). It was also a means to prepare them for the next stage in their development as Soviets and potential communists. In 1928, Abduqodir Muhiddinov confessed that he had compromised his Tajik identity by following the dictates of the Pan-Turkists. By 1929, first airplane flew from Dushanbe to Bukhara and the first train, radio, and wireless appeared in Tajikistan. On September 1929, Khujand, the future center of culture and politics of the republic, was added to Tajikistan, raising the republic’s population to one million and its status to that of an independent republic within the USSR. Stalinabad became the capital of Tajikistan SSR on October 15.48

EARLY LEADERS OF TAJIKISTAN SSR The early first secretaries of Tajikistan SSR were leading members of the CPSU. The first secretary of the Communist Party of Tajikistan (CPT), Mirzo Dovud Huseinov, was from Azerbaijan. He served in the position of first secretary between 1930 and 1933. Similarly, Grigory Broydo was first secretary from 1933 to 1934. Suren Shadunts, an Armenian, served between 1934 and 1937. This era ended with Urumbai Ashurov, a Tajik, who was first secretary for one year (1937–1938) and Dmitrii Protopopov, an ethnic Russian, who was first secretary for eight years (1938–1946). The early leaders implemented strict Soviet rules irrespective of the traditional dynamics of the milieu in which they operated. They had several features in common. Except for Ashurov, none was ethnic Tajik. Trained in agriculture and industry, they were very good sovkhoz and kolkhoz organizers and managers. Under their supervision, in spite of sharp differences between the Soviets and the Muslim Tajiks, the difficult task of Sovietization proceeded with success. They changed the Tajiks’ lifestyle as well as work habits. Additionally, using their capability in the management of 48 For the state of Bukhara in the 1930s, see Ayoubzod, Qarni Bistom, 161–166.

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a­ griculture and industry, during their short tenure, they earned much capital for both the Soviet Union and themselves. Unfortunately for them, while the Soviet Union prospered on those gains, the first secretaries experienced the reverse. Huseynov was executed in 1938 on charges of plotting against the Soviet state and Shadunts was executed in the same year for counter-­revolutionary activities. In the 1930s, Tajikistan underwent a profound transformation from a collection of medieval cities, rural towns, and qishloqs into a republic with a considerable industrial and agricultural economy. People’s mindset, too, changed from predominantly rural to urban with its concomitant sense of national pride expressed in such publications as Namunahoi Adabiyyoti Tojik (Samples of Tajik Literature) by Sadriddin Aini. The work was banned by Nikolai Bukharin, the Russian revolutionary theorist who labeled it “detrimental to socialist thought.” Thanks to Tajikistan’s first executive secretaries, the Tajiks found their way into the new Soviet society. In 1931, the first Tajik motion picture called Vaqti Amiron Mimirand (When the Amirs Die) was released. With the execution of the rebel Ibrahim Beg, in spite of incursions that occurred in the Maschoh and Gharm regions, the Basmachi movement was totally destroyed. Thus, a new era began. The ban on Aini’s work was a prelude to more sinister acts to follow. Between 1932 and 1937, incredible purges took place in the communist parties of the newly formed republics. On June 23, 1933, Janis Rudzutak, an appointee of the Central Communist Party Committee, began reforms of the Bukharan administration by replacing some of its prominent figures. Abdullo Rahimbaev was appointed Central Committee Secretary. In 1937, Nusratullo Makhsum was sentenced to death. Thereafter, the people of the republic began to betray their colleagues to save themselves. For instance, the twenty-eight members of the Union of Writers of Tajikistan, founded in 1937, were divided into two groups of fourteen. Each group wrote articles detrimental to the other. In spite of turmoil at the top, the lower echelons faithfully carried on with their work. The Second World War demanded that. Between 1939 and 1945, Tajikistan’s total agricultural and industrial output was devoted to the front and to victory. Government officials, artists, and literary personnel were exempt from war duty. European citizens, especially children, as well as factories, plants, and industries were moved east. Tajikistan received Mosfilm, which produced some incredible films in Dushanbe, as well as other smaller art-oriented institutions. Uzbekistan became a center for the production of airplanes. During the same time, the secret city of Chkalovsk was built near Khujand to process

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uranium. Some of the most distinguished Soviet scientists were among its 30,000 inhabitants. The uranium was used in the creation of atom bombs. The city of Chkalovsk was not included on the map of the USSR until 1985. By 1940, entire regions, like Tavildara, Gharm, Vakhsh, and Qurghonteppa chose to respect their ancient traditions of land management and Islamic traditions.49 Labelled Wahhabis, even though technically they were radical Hanafi Muslims, they instituted their own schools, hired their own teachers, and organized their own society. Those were the communities that in the 1970s, began the Muslim resistance against Soviet authorities and, in the 1990s, crippled the governmental structure of Tajikistan.

ISLAM IN TAJIKISTAN Thus far, we have discussed the Soviets’ assault on the Islamic institutions in Tajikistan. Their main goal was to put an end to the apparent vestiges of Islamic worship. But there is more to Islam than its apparent vestiges. To understand the role of Islam in the communist/Muslim conflict in Tajikistan, we need to cast a deeper look at Islam in the region. Before the advent of Soviet rule, Tajiks were not conscious about their religious identity. This does not mean that other populations did not exist or were unimportant. Rather, it means that tolerance and respect gave the community a degree of homogeneity. Among others, there was an Isma’ili population and a Jewish community. The latter had lived in Central Asia since the sixth century BC. Many lived in Samarqand, Khujand, and Bukhara. The Khanate of Kokand imposed strict rules on Jews, which banned them from buying land and riding horses and altogether gave them less rights than the Muslims. On the other hand, the Emirate of Bukhara engaged in trade and developed the Jews’ talents in music and the arts.50 As for Muslims, there were clashes between the Shi’i and Sunni branches, or disagreement between the Hanafis and the Hanbalis, but those were all within the framework of Islam. In other words, all Muslims believed in the 49 For Qurghonteppa, see M. Abdurahimov and E. Mirkamolov, “Qurghonteppa,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 8, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1988), 333. 50 See Abdullaev and Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary, 104; Y. E. Kalontarov, “Yahudioni Bukhoro,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 8, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1988), 241; for a different view, see d’Encausse, Islam and the Russian Empire, 20.

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oneness of Allah, the authority of the Qur’an, the prophethood of Muhammad, and the Prophet’s words, deeds, and silent approval (sunna). Those were established facts about which there was no dispute. It was beyond those established facts that differences regarding ethnic, regional, and ethical issues, as well as challenges regarding the interpretation of religious texts and the legitimacy of the various types of rulership arose. Usually, theological, psychological, economical, and political issues were not discussed by ordinary people. Differences, where they existed, were about the fundamentals of the schools (madhab) that the faithful in Tajikistan followed. The madhabs under discussion are Hanafi (mainstream and radical), Hanbali and, within the Hanbali sect, Wahhabi ideology. In the 1960s, Sufism, too, was marked as a religion to be eliminated. The region of present-day Tajikistan accepted Islam at an early date. The branch of Islam that took root in the region and prospered was the Hanafi sect, one of the earliest, largest, and most tolerant of the four schools, comprising about one half of the world of Sunni Islam.51 Hanafism was introduced by Abu Hanifa al-Nu’man ibn Thabit ibn Zuta. He was born in Kufa, Iraq, in 702, and died in prison in Baghdad in 767. By profession he was a merchant and by descent a Persian. He was forceful and bold in his assertions and fatwas, but where necessary, he took refuge in the principle of analogical deduction (qiyas). Abu Hanifa’s contribution was in expanding the domain of Islamic jurisprudence beyond the rigid limits of the Qur’an and the hadith, as well as in preparing the way for acceptance of reason and deduction in the application to law. Another Sunni school, followed by a small minority, especially during the early years of Soviet rule in Central Asia, was the Hanbali school. The adherents of Hanbalism had existed in the Ferghana valley from the time of the Tsars. At that time, smaller numbers could be found in Tajikistan as well. The Hanbali school was founded by Ahmad ibn Hanbal (d. 885), who studied under Abu Yousef, a companion of Imam Abu Hanifa. Ibn Hanbal is said to have had deep insights into jurisprudence. He was well known as the author of the encyclopedic collection of hadith known as al-Musnad, as well as his stand against the Mu’tazilites.52 Hanbalism is the strictest of the four schools.53 Its adherents recognize the Qur’an as the only source for the rule of law and for assigning 51 Olcott, Roots, 3. 52 James Wynbrandt, A Brief History of Saudi Arabia (New York: Facts on File, 2004), 89–90. 53 William Montgomery Watt, trans., and C. Hillenbrand, ed., Islamic Creeds: A Selection (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1994), 7.

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punishments.54 The adherents of the Hanbali school reject the use of philosophical argument. There exists no place for reason whereby to interpret, adjust, or change the meaning of the Holy Word.55 In the 1730s, Muhammad ibn Abdul Wahhab revived the Hanbali school under Wahhabism,56 the basis for the legal system of contemporary Saudi Arabia.57 Today Wahhabism is propagated widely with funds from Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States. It affects the social, political, and economic aspects of many Muslim countries, including Tajikistan. During the Soviet period, as it was mentioned, some Hanafis were radicalized in the sense that they rebelled against the social changes that were being imposed. As a result, they separated themselves from Soviet Muslims. Some of the anti-Soviet actions of this group resembled the actions of the Wahhabis. The difference was that the Wahhabis’ bias had deep Qur’anic reasons while the bias of the Hanafis was rooted in social protest. During the years leading to the civil war in Tajikistan, Soviet social engineers tried to blur the distinction outlined above and identify all Tajik Muslims as Wahhabis. In communist minds it sounded as if Tajiks, who were Wahhabis, were trying to transform Tajikistan into a Muslim state ruled by Wahhabi elites. No communist would want that to happen. More on this will follow. Previously we discussed how the Soviets tried to attract the Tajiks to their side through a policy of tolerance and how, when that policy did not give the desired results, they became rigid and uncompromising. The preamble to their new rules showed clearly that they were devised to nullify the Islamic spiritual values of the Tajiks, as opposed to the earlier rules that targeted their Islamic institutions. The new rules emphasized that the aim of the state was to create “one land and one law.” It specified clearly that in the new system, there was no place for Allah, a projection of the individual faithful’s conception thrown to the heavens.58 Safarov reports: The most advantageous way to eliminate the remnants of religious worship in our republic is to turn the minds of the worshipers against those 54 Carol L. Riley, “Hanbali,” in Riley, Historical and Cultural Dictionary of Saudi Arabia (London: The Scarecrow Press, 1972), 50. 55 Wynbrandt, Brief History of Saudi Arabia, 91. 56 Riley, Dictionary of Saudi Arabia, 117. 57 Wynbrandt, Brief History of Saudi Arabia, 91. 58 See Karl Marks and F. Engels, Asarhoi Muntakhab, vol. 1 (Dushanbe: Gospolitizdat, 1955), 440.

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Soviet authorities also rejected the Qur’an. They argued that the rules in the Qur’an, underpinning the Shari’a, belonged to the Arabia of the seventh century.60 How could seventh century rules that had lost their efficacy centuries ago be beneficial to twentieth-century Soviet society? Many of the dictates of the Soviets were perplexing to Soviet Muslims. For instance, they accepted that Prophet Muhammad could have been a charismatic and learned man, but they questioned whether it was reasonable to emulate him, when such worthy heroes as Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin existed in the Soviets’ recent history.61 Similarly, they said the Muslims were free to remain Muslim, but prevented them from teaching their children,62 a sizable part of the population, about Islam and warned them against building maktabs or madrasas. Regarding the Hajj pilgrimage, the Muslims were told that pilgrimage to Mecca was an economically unreasonable act. It transferred Soviet assets to Saudi Arabia. Nevertheless, the Muslims could make the pilgrimage provided they had a visa issued in Moscow. The actual hurdle was getting an official pass from the faithfuls’ place of residence to travel to Moscow. Fasting and prayer were left to the discretion of the individual. There was, however, a general rule that workers should not leave their work station at specific hours for any purpose. There were also admonitions that fasting weakened the body, slowed down work, and caused absenteeism. That is not to mention the fact that the Ramadan feast invariably ruined the family financially.63 59 Cf. A. Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastishi Ishonho va Rohhoi Bartaraf Kardani Onho dar Tojikiston (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 1965), 23. 60 For the Soviet view regarding the appearance of the Qur’an and the difference of opinion among the Islamic sects regarding its interpretation, see S. Ahmadov, Mukhtasari Tafsiri Qur’an (Dushanbe: Irafon, 1989), 4. 61 For the Soviet view regarding the life of Prophet Muhammad, see ibid., 10–15. 62 T. I. Fedorova, Goroda Tadzhikistana i problemy rosta i razvitiia (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1981), 39. 63 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 34.

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The Soviets were determined to destroy the bases of the Muslims’ Islamic identity summed up in the education, economy, ethnic identity, and cultural values of the Central Asian people. The situation in Tajikistan was not any different. For instance, they undermined the family system by refusing to accept the bonds of marriage not sanctioned by the state. This was particularly true about marriages that involved kalym.64 Only civil marriages registered in appropriate departments in the state were recognized as legal. Divorces,65 too, were governed by similar regulations, as were the rites of passage such as circumcision. Even though there was a law specifying that all mutilations of the human body were illegal, Soviet authorities insisted that they were not interfering with the parents’ decision to circumcise their boys. In short, Soviet scholars studied Islam carefully and thoroughly and found subtle ways to undermine its principles, in ways that Soviet authorities would not be held responsible. Knowing that Muslims pray communally and in large numbers, they restricted the number of individuals at all events, to a set number not to exceed five individuals. Additionally, they discouraged young people from aspiring to join the clerical profession. If they did, they could not stand for elected office; could not vote in elections; could not rent a home from those who worked, or from the state; could not teach in schools; and could not receive zakat. In Islam, zakat is the economic base of the mosque. Alongside waqf, it supports the community as a whole, especially the higher levels of education. Endowments also funded the building of maktabs, madrasas, mosques, bridges, bazaars, and the like. Loss of private property, therefore, affected Islamic education directly.66 Another way that the Soviets undermined the flow of funds to the mosque was by depriving the mosque from fees for services in weddings and wakes. The Soviets’ refusal to accept the legality of Muslim weddings undermined the Muslims’ ability to help the mosque perform its duty. Taxing the mosques was another way by which the Muslim community was deprived of access to its traditional sources of support and to its places of education and worship. The issues that created protests and conflicts in the republic were not limited to the items outlined above, or to marriage at age nine (instead of sixteen) for girls, and twelve (instead of eighteen) for boys. Neither were the protesters 64 Massell, Surrogate, 111–114; Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 43. 65 Massell, Surrogate, 119. 66 Keller, To Moscow, not Mecca, 86–87.

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in favor of retaining the right to marry four wives instead of one, and the right to divorce one or all wives at will. The protests were a reaction to the arrogance that exuded from Soviet authorities and permeated the Tajik society. Even after death, Muslims were persecuted. They were not allowed to bury their dead in a separate graveyard. That, the Soviets claimed, would make of the deceased an elite.67 Another reason was the careless attitude of the Soviet authorities to the past civilization and heritage of the Tajiks, including both their legacies, Iranian and Islamic.

WAR NECESSITY The Soviets’ education of the Tajiks was interrupted by World War II. In fact, war necessity changed the very dynamics of the relationship that was being established between Soviets and the Muslim Tajiks. By 1940, both the Soviet Tajiks and the Muslim Tajiks had made a great deal of progress. The Soviet Tajiks had cultivated large fields of cotton, built factories, power plants, roads, and expanded the domain of Soviet education. The Muslim Tajiks had established a network of Islamic schools, formed educational ties with Afghan Tajiks, and prepared themselves for an opportunity to displace the Soviets who had occupied Tajikistan, especially the southern regions. War necessity gave them that opportunity. In the 1940s, Stalin was forced to send more and more of the Soviet Tajiks who were engaged in agriculture and industry to the front. To fill those vacancies, he drew on the Muslim Tajiks who, thus far, had been refused any Soviet assistance. To accommodate them, 233,000 houses, many schools, health centers, and recreation areas were built. The more talented were trained to work in factories and low-level jobs. Some were allowed to enter Soviet schools and become acquainted with aspects of western education. After the war, many of those who had been sent to the front did not return. Those who returned faced stiff resistance from the Tajiks who took their former jobs. Since the majority of those Tajiks had come to Tajikistan from other republics in the Union, the Muslim Tajiks directed them to go back to their homelands and seek employment there. They also discriminated against them on religious grounds. For instance, the ishons agitated the faithful against them and persuaded those who had had young fighters on the front to visit sacred tombs and thank Allah for safely bringing their loved ones back. All that resulted in the intensification of 67 Cf. Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 43.

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the worship of sacred places, closer adherence to the rules of the Shari’a, and firm resistance against atheism.68 In 1949, a severe earthquake shook Hait. Total villages were devastated to the point that large communities were transferred from Hait to Vakhsh. Again, because of the war, Moscow needed to recruit soldiers from among the Muslim population and, therefore, the atheism issue was not fully pursued.69 Consequently, the scientific reasons for the occurrence of the disaster were not explained to people in terms that they could understand (that is, in pre-war terms). As expected, the ishons seized the opportunity again and explained the event as a “punishment from God” on His unruly subjects. The faithful were directed to worship, visit the tombs of the friends of God (awliya’) regularly, give to charity, and prevent women from entering the work force.70 Returning to the veterans and their confrontation with the Muslim Tajiks. The veterans insisted on their right to work and that the Muslim Tajiks’ refusal to let them back to their pre-war positions was illegal. The civil conflict that ensued had to be resolved in court. But what court? Should it be a Soviet court using the Soviet constitution or a Muslim court using the Shari’a law?71 Since the Shari’a law was not officially recognized, the state used force to suppress the Muslim Tajiks. The confrontation went beyond the 1940s. As we shall see, in the 1950s the Muslim Tajiks set up resistance cells and recruited Muslims from Afghanistan and Russia to join their cause in a clandestine society that existed in hiding until the 1970s. See further below for explanation.

BOBOJON GHAFUROV With Bobojon Ghafurov’s appointment as first secretary (1946), Tajikistan entered a new era.72 Ghafurov was second secretary from 1944 to 1946 and first secretary from 1946 to 1956. In several ways his era was different from the 68 Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 15. 69 For various types of propaganda in Soviet Tajikistan, see Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 53. 70 Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 14. 71 For the background of development of Soviet constitutions in the republics, see Lawrence Krader, “Peoples of Central Asia,” Research and Studies in Uralic and Altaic Languages 26 (1963): 112–113. 72 For a biography of Ghafurov, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 96–97; see also Bobojon Ghafurovich Ghafurov, Tojikon (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1998), the most comprehensive account on the emergence, development, and flowering of all aspects of Tajik culture.

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previous eras. Ghafurov was an ethnic Tajik born in Isfara. In addition to being an administrator, he was an Orientalist, an academician, and the founder of modern Tajik historiography. In fact, foreigners’ first acquaintance with Ghafurov is through his authorship of a roster of publications, particularly his Tojikon, a comprehensive history of the Tajik people, rather than his twentyone-year tenure as the director of the Institute of Oriental Studies of the Academy of Sciences of the Soviet Union. His twelve-year service as second and first secretary of the CPT take third place among his accomplishments. Ahror Mukhtorov, a close friend and the editor of the Russian version of Tojikon, described a session in which Ghafurov was receiving reports from district secretaries regarding the accomplishments of their districts and their requests for financial assistance.73 When the secretary of Norak district stood up to present his report, Ghafurov stopped him and asked, “Why is it that you are not clean shaven?” The Norak secretary responded, “There was no time to shave. I had to hurry to reach Stalinabad. I will see to it right away.” Ghafurov viewed the audience meaningfully, then quietly said, “We shall not listen to this comrade today. We will review his case in the Central Committee, where he will appear clean shaven.”74 Where Soviet social behavior was concerned, Mukhtorov concluded, Ghafurov did not differentiate among his colleagues in the academy, his students, and the individuals who worked in the agricultural and industrial sectors. Mukhtorov also provides information about Ghafurov’s friends and interests, especially in music, subjects that do not concern us here.75 If we consider the era of the executive secretaries as the era of training the cadres, and the era of the early leaders as weeding out the unwanted and moving from theory of socialism to practice, Ghafurov’s era can be regarded as reaping the benefits of those efforts. Additionally, the gap between the graduates of the ABC schools and students from the maktabs, who benefited from the Shari’a schools taught clandestinely by ishons, became palpable in this period. The ABC graduates were concerned with the mechanical aspects of things irrespective of any spiritual connotations, whereas the maktab graduates were concerned with the spiritual aspect. The practical aspect took second place in their assessment of worldly matters. It was stated earlier that World War II changed the dynamics 73 For Mukhtorov’s life, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 201–202. 74 Mukhtorov, Bobojon Ghafurov, 71. 75 Ibid., 78–85.

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of Soviet-Muslim relations. The onset of those changes was best seen during the rule of Ghafurov, when the Muslim community began to think seriously about a revival of Islamic rule in Tajikistan. The contributions of future leaders like Hindustoni, Nuri, and Turajonzoda, have their roots in Ghafurov’s tenure as the first secretary. Hindustoni (full name Muhammadjon Hoji-Domullo Rustamov) was a distinguished Central Asian Muslim, a graduate of the maktabs. He worked with Muslim student groups and prepared them for an eventual confrontation with Soviet authorities. He lived between 1892 and 1985, meaning, he was an eye witness as well as an informed participant in all the stages that the Soviet Union, including Tajikistan, experienced before perestroika and glasnost′. Hindustoni was born in the village of Chorbog, near Qoqand, in the Ferghana valley.76 He received his early education at home and at the village maktab. Before going to Qoqand in 1904, he studied under Muhammad Amin and Toshbolta Damullo. In Qoqand, he studied Arabic syntax and the Qur’an. At the outbreak of World War I, he was in Bukhara. From there, he fled to Balkh where he studied Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), as well as the works of Jalal al-Din Rumi, Shams al-Din Hafiz, and Abdul-Qadir Bidel. In 1916, during the outset of the Basmachi war, he returned to the Emirate of Bukhara. There, he accepted a teaching position in Tashkent and taught there for a while. In 1919, Hindustoni traveled to Kashmir to learn Hindi and Urdu and to become acquainted with the Muslims of Kashmir. In Kashmir he was known as “Hindustoni,” a title that remained with him for the rest of his life. In 1929, Hindustoni returned to Chorbog, settled in Qoqand, and opened a class to teach those interested in learning about his experiences. Perceiving his teaching as harmful to the state and, therefore, illegal, Soviet authorities arrested Hindustoni in 1933 and sentenced him to two years in prison. He was arrested again in 1937 and spent three years in Siberia. Returning to Qoqand in 1940, he worked in an oil extraction plant. In 1943, he was sent to the front where he remained until 1947. Hindustoni’s life to this point mirrors the experiences of the Muslim children of Central Asia, their educational training, and their confrontation with Soviet law and the Soviet law’s treatment of them. Early in their lives, they learned about the difficulties that their parents had undergone and that now looked them straight in the face. They held their parents’ conformity against them and vowed not to follow their example. In other words, they became 76 For more on Hindustoni’s life, see Olcott, Roots, 17.

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radicalized in a political sense as opposed to the earlier generation that were called radical because they refused to learn Russian and obey Soviet dicta. In 1947, one year after Bobojon Ghafurov became first secretary, Hindustoni returned from World War II and was appointed prayer leader (imomkhatib) of the Mawlono Ya’qub Charkhy mosque in Dushanbe, Tajikistan. He was arrested again in 1948 and spent four years in prison. After Stalin’s death in 1953, Hindustoni was released from prison. Interestingly enough Ghafurov allowed him to join the Institute of Oriental Studies of the Academy of Sciences of Tajikistan as an instructor of Arabic and Urdu languages. The urge to reach the Islamic community in Dushanbe to discuss his ideas about socialism and communism overcame Hindustoni. Alongside teaching for the Academy, he also set up an illegal religious school in which he instructed his version of Islamic learning. He had developed this version over the years during his travels. When speaking to Muslim audiences beyond Central Asia, he learned that knowledge of the Shari’a alone was not sufficient. A perfect Muslim, he learned, must know as much about the natural world as about the spiritual world. He remedied the situation by introducing variety into his teaching. His lectures on the Qur’an, hadith, fiqh, ethics, and oratory were always full. His lectures on astronomy, medicine, and Arabic linguistics (morphology and syntax) distinguished his approach from the normal madrasa lectures. The impact of his teaching is reflected in the contributions of his students to relations between the Muslims and the communists in Tajikistan.77 A good example is the life and contributions of Hindustoni’s follower Abdullo Nuri, one of the chief architects of the peace talks that led to the presentday unified Tajikistan. Said Abdullo Nuri was born in Tavildara on March 15, 1947.78 His family settled in the Turkmenistan Sovkhoz in 1953. Nuri studied geodesy in Qurghonteppa’s Geodesy Technical College and graduated in 1964. In 1965, Nuri’s father introduced him to Hindustoni who, in the future, became Nuri’s mentor. Unlike his mentor, Nuri lived a dual life. He followed Soviet dicta and carried out his duties as a land surveyor. He also carried out his duties as a strict Muslim and follower of the Shari’a. Given the various approaches of the Soviet authorities to extinguish Islam, Nuri was much concerned about the survival of the Hanafi sect. Consequently, on April 20, 1973, he became one of five individuals who cooperated and established the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan (IRPT) in Qurghonteppa. 77 See Olcott, Roots, 21. 78 For a biography of Nuri, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 235.

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The aim of the group, at least according to Nuri and Himmatzoda, was to create an Islamic state with democratic values. Nuri’s activities as a member of the revivalist movement resulted in his arrest by the KGB in 1986. He was exiled to Siberia for eighteen months and released in 1988. A comparison of the lives of Hindustoni and young Nuri shows that Soviet education under the executive leaders delivered two types of students: the ABC students, the majority of whom were trained in various fields of natural sciences to deal with the future issues faced by the socialist state, and students like Hindustoni who were dedicated to the cause of Islam and ready to promote Islam at any cost. During the rule of the pre-Ghafurov first secretaries, this latter group expanded their areas of proselytization (da’wah) and promoted their version of Islam worldwide. Among others, Hindustoni took his teachings to Kashmir and, in the 1950s, to Dushanbe. Towards the end of the Ghafurov era, the authorities came to two distinct realizations. The first was that the ishons were relentless in their efforts to hamper the progress of socialism. They accomplished that by forcing the Muslim faithful to refrain from carrying out their work for the government, by refusing to do bodily work, and by preventing their children from receiving a proper education.79 The second realization was that Islam was not an ideology that could be refuted by words and driven out of the society. Rather, they found it to be similar to Lenin’s exemplary corpse that never dies. By putting the body in a coffin and burying it, Lenin had said, people think they have got rid of the corpse. But they were in error. The body stays under the ground, decays, and contaminates the soil for generations.80 During the Ghafurov era, the ABC students matured into major contributors to various sectors of Tajik economy, an aspect of Soviet Tajikistan that this book will discuss later, in the context of Rasulov’s era. The followers of Hindustoni, rather than paying their full attention to Islamic studies, combined ABC training with study of the Shari’a. Said Abdullo Nuri and Haji Akbar Turajonzoda are cases in point. Turajonzoda was born in 1954 to a prominent religious family in Kofarnihon.81 He studied in Bukhara’s Mir Arab Madrasa (1976–1980), the Islamic Institute of Tashkent, and the Amman University of Jordan (1982–1987), where he studied jurisprudence. After graduation, he worked at the Department of International relations in the Spiritual Administration of the Muslims of 79 Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 6. 80 Ibid., 470; V. I. Lenin, Asarho, vol. 27 (Dushanbe: Nashre Tojik, 1925), 470. 81 For a biography of Turajonzoda, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 351–352.

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Central Asia in Tashkent. Thereafter, he taught at the Islamic Institute of Tashkent (1987–1988). In 1988, against all odds, he was appointed the qozikalon of Tajikistan. This was unusual because qozikalons were usually chosen from among the scholars in the Ferghana valley and were affiliated with the Naqshbandiyyah order. Turajonzoda was a follower of the Qaderiyya order and a Kofarnihoni. In Dushanbe, Turajonzoda became acquainted with Hindustoni and Nuri. He also became involved in the politics of the republic. When the regional harmony imposed by the Soviets ended and regions began to compete against each other for resources, Turajonzoda remained neutral. Nevertheless, he was much closer to Hindustoni in his organization of affairs than to his peers. He dealt with both the communists and the democratic minded Muslims with fairness. His main objective was to make sure that the Hanafi sect of Islam in Central Asia, in general, and in Tajikistan, in particular, remained vibrant. This concern, at times, gave his opponents a reason to label him a Wahhabi. Wahhabism, however, is what he was afraid of, especially in view of the fact that the state was trying to blur and, when possible, obviate the line that separates the Hanafi sect from the Wahhabi creed (see below). During World War II, both Soviet Tajik men and women contributed to the war effort. Their contributions changed the very structure of Tajik society, especially with respect to building large industrial centers and hydroelectric stations.82 In fact, different Soviet and Islamic groups had their own agendas and were working toward realizing them at all costs. The ABC graduates, the majority, wanted to build a progressive socialist state moving towards the heights of the communist ideal; the hardline Islamists, like Hindustoni, wanted to create a strict Islamic state with the Shari’a as its constitution; and the moderates, like Abdullo Nuri and Turajonzoda, wanted to establish a secular, democratic state with a moderate Hanafi faith. The Ghafurov era is also known for its contribution to the arts. Tajiks distinguished themselves in Moscow in 1941, when, for ten days, they had performed their version of Shakespeare’s “Othello.” Their six-hundred-actor cast comprising singers and dancers had attracted the praise of Stalin and the attention of foreigners living in Moscow. In fact, Stalin’s positive reaction filled all the newspapers of the day. In 1947, the second ten-day Tajik Festival of Culture and Art was held in Moscow. This festival, centered on “Layli and Majnun,” was also a major contribution to the art world of the day. 82 Cf. G. Panichkin, “Tojikiston,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 7, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1987), 398–399.

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During Ghafurov’s rule, mining, fuel, textile, foodstuffs, building, and production of materials, in general, was a priority. For example, cotton production, especially the different types of cotton, like the thick fiber (mahinnakh), was increased immensely. A comparison of the industrial output of the republic in 1956 with the prewar output showed an increase of 2.8 percent. Similarly, electric capacity was increased 4.8 percent. Improvement in lifestyle, both materially and psychologically, was also given attention. In order to accommodate war veterans, two cotton processing factories were built in Qurghonteppa and a third hydroelectric station was built on the Varzob. In the latter part of the 1950s, large tracts of marshland around Qurghonteppa, Kulob (lower Vakhsh), and Dushanbe were recovered and cultivated; the Sharshar and the foundation of the Sarband hydroelectric stations (both on the upper Vakhsh) were completed. A watershed in the building of socialism, this period provided much of the infrastructure required by the agricultural sector’s grand plans for agro-business. A major feature of the era, as far as Muslim lives were concerned, was that the pro-Islamic policies dictated by World War II were reversed. In fact, the Soviet government of the time dealt harshly with all dissident voices within its borders. The new policies affected Tajikistan’s intellectuals adversely. Conversely, Tajiks who had conformed were assigned high positions. For instance, in 1953, Nuriddin Akramovich Muhiddinov was appointed the First Secretary of the Central Communist Party. This, in view of the fact that high-level positions had been given exclusively to Russians since the late 1930s. More importantly, Muhiddinov was soon after (1957) nominated for the Politburo or the Executive Committee of the CPSU. A significant feature of this time was the Soviets’ organized propaganda apparatus in dealing with Muslims collectively and individually. Here is how the dialog was to take shape. The intention was to convince the Muslims that scientific atheism was a better option for creating a prosperous life in ­Tajikistan than the Shari’a proposed by Islam. The group that disseminated political and scientific knowledge explained that the leader in charge of scientific-atheist propaganda should be knowledgeable about the sources of the information, especially with regard to the most recent discoveries. He should analyze the issues to be discussed in meetings in great detail. The specific person who is scheduled to debate an issue with a prominent religious leader must be aware of all the issues that discussions might entail. He must be fully familiar with the arguments of the other side and must be able to draw out the exploitative nature of those arguments and expose them in public. Furthermore, in the discussion session, the religious head must begin the dialog. He should be given an

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opportunity to respond to the questions posed without any restrictions. After that, the atheist should pick up on those answers and continue the discussion.83 A subject on which the Soviets concentrated most was the Sufi contention that not only Allah existed and was in everything, but also that individuals in this life could contact Allah and receive His blessings for themselves and for their followers. The details of those discussions, however, are outside the purview of this study. The Ghafurov era was also a sad one. On July 15, 1954, Sadriddin Aini (b. 1878), Tajik historian and literary scholar, passed away. Founder of Tajik Soviet literature, Aini grew up in rural Bukhara, studied in Bukharan schools, and wrote about Bukhara at the turn of the century, especially its religious schools, government, and law. Aini’s Yoddoshtho (Reminiscences) is a most valuable book written about the Sovietization process in Central Asia. Aini’s death was followed with the death of Abulqasim Lahuti on March 16, 1957. Lahuti passed away in a hospital in Moscow. Born in Kermanshah, Iran, the future Tajik poet fled Iran in 1922 and joined the Tajiks in their quest for grand achievements. He developed such themes as “Kremlin,” “Victory,” and “Revolution.” His death was observed by a single elderly woman.84 The era of Ghafurov is followed by the short and ignominious rule of Tursun Oljaboev (May 24, 1956–April 12, 1961). Oljaboev was an ethnic Tajik from the Sughd province. In 1969, accused of falsifying state documents related to cotton production, he was expelled from the Party. He retired as a farm director in 1986 and died in 1988.

JABBOR RASULOV The next era under First Secretary Jabbor Rasulov, similar to Ghafurov’s era, is significant. Rasulov was born in Khujand.85 He grew up on a cotton farm and graduated from the Central Asian Cotton Institute. He became First Secretary in 1961 and remained in that position until his death in 1982. He was buried in Dushanbe. Rasulov was the first Secretary to appear on Tajik television that had started operation in 1959. During his tenure, light industry of lower Vakhsh was expanded and developed. In fact, as we shall see, the hydroelectric plant on 83 Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 38. 84 Ayoubzod, Qarni Bistom, 137, passim. 85 For Rasulov’s life, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 294.

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the Vakhsh, the Pamir refrigerator factory, and the Hisor Hydrozal were only some of the prominent examples of Rasulov’s prosperous era. Between 1965 and 1980, three major Tajik figures—Sotim Ulughzoda, Ghaffor Mirzoev,86 Jum’a Odina—were persecuted by Ivon Koval, the real power in Tajikistan’s leadership.87 The trio was the main body defending Tajik identity. The sudden defection of Ulughzoda’s son and the publication of Odina’s Guzashti Ayyom (Passage of Time) were factors influencing Moscow’s decisions regarding the new generation of intellectuals in Tajikistan. In 1966 Soviet Tajiks had a major achievement. Their textile kombinat was included among the textile production outlets of the USSR and in 1971, they received the Red Banner of the Central Committee of the CPSU for the creation of the Vakhsh complex in southern Tajikistan. Tajikistan annually produced four tons of gold, 200 tons of silver, 500,000 tons of aluminum, and 1,000,000 tons of cotton. With the rise in industrial development, there was a call to return to the basics of the socialist roots of the Party. In 1971, the Central Committee of CPSU called for an increase in atheistic work and vigorous enforcement of Soviet anti-religious laws. Accordingly, Soviet holidays replaced Muslim holidays. On September 24, 1977, Mirzo Tursunzoda (b. 1911), a Tajik Soviet poet, passed away. Influenced by Aini and Lahuti, Tursunzoda produced some of the most memorable marches of early Soviet times. Unlike his predecessors, however, he addressed international issues, especially those dealing with India. On April 2, 1982, Secretary Rasulov passed away. Rahmon Nabiev, a communist determined to curb the Islam promoted by the Pamiris and Gharmis, became First Secretary.

ISLAM AND ATHEISM Although, in the 1940s, the authorities were trying to convince the Tajiks that Islam had seen its last days;88 in reality, they knew that that was not the case at all. A deep gap existed within Tajikistan between the Soviet Muslims and the radical Muslims. Entire regions, like the mountains of Qarotegin, Tavildara, Gharm, and the lower Vakhsh, all the way to Qurghonteppa, continued to 86 For Mirzoev’s life, see ibid., 192–193 87 For Odina’s life, see ibid., 240. 88 Khalmukhamedov, “O chem govoriat,” 57.

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respect their ancient traditions of land management and endeavored to uphold their Islamic way of life. Like the Amish in the United States, they stayed clear of all technological developments, continuing their existence as if the Soviet Union did not exist. They instituted their own schools, hired their own teachers, and organized their society with the help of their aksakals and the ishons. Contrary to the statements of Soviet authorities, in the 1940s, two entrenched and opposing ideologies operated in Tajikistan. Socialism and radical Islam. Socialism, the dominant ideology, had the upper hand. Able to provide food stuffs, shelter, jobs, and security, it attracted the majority of the Muslim population (that is, the mainstream Hanafi Soviet Muslims). According to Soviet sources, by this time socialism was fully established in the farthest qishloqs of the Kuhiston in Tajikistan. For proof, they pointed to the speedy process of urbanization, the inflow of villagers into the towns for factory work, and the number of institutions of higher learning like the Tajikistan State University in the Name of Lenin (opened in 1948) as examples. As for the Muslim population, it was losing some numbers to socialism but, at the same time, it was gaining strength through contacts with the Muslims from outside the Union. Access to knowledge for Tajiks in general remained limited. Rather than meeting future Tajik needs by training native experts who would occupy some of the positions thus far held by European Soviets, more and more factories and low-level jobs were created. These included the trikotazh89 factory and the armature (armatura) factory named after Sergo Ordzhonikidze, in Dushanbe. Additionally, six new MTS centers were added, increasing the number of tractors from 3,884 in 1940 to 4,111 in 1950. Skilled workers were brought in from Russia, or from the European parts of the Soviet Union, to work in the cotton processing factories in Qurghonteppa and Kulob. Youth who were not interested in agriculture, instead of being allowed to enter scientific fields, were directed towards the arts.90 The treatment of the Muslims was altogether poor. For instance, they were not engaged in the war effort as much as the other populations of the Union had been. By the same token, isolating Muslims had resulted in the isolation of the Soviet Union from the Muslim world. In 1943, therefore, it was decided to improve inter-Muslim relations both within the Union and with the Muslim communities throughout the world. Such changes, it was thought, would open the way for Soviet Muslims to travel outside the USSR and interact with other 89 The trikotazh factory produced such accessories as scarves, gloves, and socks. 90 Sohibnazar, Subh, 17.

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Muslims. For instance, Soviet Muslims could visit Mecca and Muslims of the Middle East could visit Russia and the other republics of the Soviet Union. In addition, rather than viewing Islam as a monolith, they began to differentiate between the Sunnis and the Shi’ites, giving the latter a voice of its own by appointing a Shi’ite jurist (mujtahid), instead of a Mufti. And in order to attend to the needs of the Muslims of a vast empire that spanned eleven time zones, and the logistics needed for them to receive proper spiritual guidance, they raised the number of the directorates to four. In 1944, therefore, four directorates were established; the one for Central Asian Muslims was located in Tashkent.91 Alongside SADUM (Spiritual Administration of the Muslims of Central Asia and Kazakhstan), they also opened more mosques and revived the region’s major madrasas. The Mir Arab Madrasa, for instance, was reopened in 1945. This move was a watershed in the sense that, henceforth, the republics of Central Asia were guided by Muslims from Tashkent. Following Tashkent’s lead, the Muslims of Central Asia accommodated the rules imposed by the atheists by adjusting their rituals. In other words, on the surface, it appeared as if they had abandoned Islam. Accordingly, they changed the order of some rituals, disguised the appearance of some, and curtailed the amount of time spent on prayers. In tight situations, they practiced defensive dissimulation (taqiyyah). They adhered to the official Soviet line so well that by the 1950s, most vestiges of Islam seemed to have disappeared from Tajikistan. Still, to their chagrin, the Soviet researchers realized that Islam, in addition to the set of rituals that had been denied the worshipers, has a set of abstract principles that flow from the Qur’an, the hadith, and the schools of law. More importantly, they came to the conclusion that their manipulation, far from bringing about the demise of Islam, had led to its resurgence. In other words, over the decades, the aksakals had successfully passed on the faith to the new generation. More than that, the post-World War II generation of Muslims had used its access to western education carefully and meaningfully. The realization gave rise to new anxieties and new regulations. In order to prevent Islam’s progress, SADUM became the single center of Islamic activity and guidance in the region. The ishons and teachers who managed the religious life of the faithful were now guided by this center. Obviously, the guidance that SADUM dispensed carried a great deal of information with which the conservatives in the far-off religious establishments, such as in Tajikistan, did not agree. 91 Bennigsen and Wimbush, Muslims, 14–16.

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A relatively dormant ideology in Tajikistan of the 1940s was Islam in its Hanbali (Sunni) form, usually referred to as Wahhabism. As we have seen, in the early days of the Union, these nonconformist Muslims moved into the rather inaccessible river valleys of the upper Vakhsh and virtually cut themselves off from mainstream Soviet Tajik life. Were it not for the war necessity, they would have continued their reclusive existence there for a much longer period. But, as mentioned, Soviet authorities needed assistance for the war effort from all the people of the Union, including radical Hanafis and Wahhabis. To engage the families in the effort, in Gharm and Tavildara, as well as in the major cities and towns of the republic, new maktabs were opened, and nearly forgotten mosques were rehabilitated. Additionally, as a result of opening four directorates for overseeing Muslim affairs in Ufa, Tashkent, Baku, and Makhach-Kala, the Muslim clergy allowed Muslim women to work in the cotton fields and Muslim men to undertake behind the front activities. Many Muslim youths participated in the war in whatever capacity they were assigned. Viewing the progress of the Muslims over the past few decades, the atheist scientists decided to focus the intellectual power of the nation and bear it on the resolution of the only problem that had perennially impeded the rapid rise of socialism: Islam. In this regard, Nikita Khrushchev declared that although Islam was no longer a viable force against the progress of communism, those in charge of SADUM should not allow past practices to resurface. He also cautioned about the complexity of international relations, especially between Soviet Muslims and the Muslim world at large. Khrushchev’s efforts to reverse the policies of the previous decade (that is, pro-Islamic policies dictated by World War II) only accelerated the interaction between Soviet Muslims and their brethren elsewhere. A glaring example of it was the Soviet Muslims’ exposure to new waves of Wahhabism, not from the Ferghana valley, but from Saudi Arabia. After the establishment of Soviet relations with Saudi Arabia, the Saudis were generous with their contributions, both materially and in terms of man power. Over the next decades, conservative Tajiks, especially those radicalized against socialism, traveled to Mecca, attended school, and were trained in the Saudi version of Islam. On their return to Tajikistan, as maktab teachers, the new instructors incorporated Wahhabi practice into their Hanafi curricula. Similarly, Wahhabi teachers and proselytizers, coming from the Ferghana valley and Saudi Arabia, intensified their activities in Uzbekistan and southern Tajikistan. The teachers and the proselytizers had easy jobs, as many of the superficial aspects of radical Hanafi Islam and inherent Wahhabi practices were similar.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

The main difference, as mentioned earlier, was in the area of creed, which did not figure prominently in the instructors’ communication with their students and the general public. In the 1960s and 1970s, two major forces were at work in Tajikistan. One was an effort by the Soviets, Russian Soviets in particular, to put an end to the aksakals, ishons, and imperialists who prevented Tajik youth from grasping the full intent of Soviet education.92 The other was a decidedly militant response by Tajik Muslims to anti-Muslim activities of the communists. They intended to perpetuate the traditions of the Prophet and, in the long run, establish Shari’a law in the region. The conflict, for which the Muslims had spent much time and effort almost exclusively in hiding, was reaching a boiling point. In order to better understand the interactions between the Muslims and the communists in Tajikistan, let us review the Soviets’ plan for the eradication of Islam and the Tajiks’ responses to it. The anti-Muslim activities that had started in the late 1950s and early 1960s were intensified in the 1970s. In 1971, the Central Committee of CPSU called for an increase in atheistic work and vigorous enforcement of Soviet anti-religious laws in Tajikistan. Following that, Soviet holidays replaced Muslim holidays and a House of Scientific Atheism was opened in 1972. Also in the 1960s, the interaction between Soviet Muslims and the greater Muslim world became more intense. Books from outside the Union found their way into the hands of Soviet Muslims. But more importantly, the same literature found its way into clandestine circles in the Ferghana valley and in southern Tajikistan, among the radical Muslims in Qurghonteppa, Gharm, Tavildara, and other regions. The works of Sayyid Qutb (1906–1966) and Sayyid Abul Ala Maududi (1903–1979) were widely studied and discussed.93 We shall discuss the influence of this literature on young Tajiks and the impact of that literature on the conflict between the Muslims and communists of Tajikistan further below. During the rule of Rasulov, the efforts of the Soviet Tajiks to make southern Tajikistan a major agro-industrial complex came to fruition by building the Regional Productions Complex. The efforts of the radical Muslims (radical Hanafi as well as Wahhabi), too, came to fruition in a network of like-minded parties and movements. In what follows, we shall look at the final preparations made by Soviet Tajiks before work on the RPCT could begin. 92 Cf., Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 16. 93 Olcott, Roots, 12.

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As a part of these preparations, the Soviet Tajiks expanded and developed the light industry of lower Vakhsh in the 1960s. Following that, automotive industry responded to the immediate needs of engineers, managers, and farmers and a combination of automation and the brigade system led to the expansion of irrigation and the development of some 13,615 hectares of land. Production of automotive tools, electricity, and foodstuffs boosted both light industry and trade. Naturally, those advances also improved the lifestyle of the individual Tajik tremendously. Labor input and output increased twofold. Over one hundred new factories, plants, and workshops were added to those already in existence. These included the hydroelectric factory on the Vakhsh, the “Pamir” refrigerator plant, the Hisor hydro-facility, and the inauguration of mining in Anzob. Furthermore, the production of cotton, milk, meat, and grain increased manifold and 54,000 hectares of new land was reclaimed. A major contribution of the decade, the largest irrigation system in the Kuhiston, the Yovon-Abkik Irrigation System, was completed. This project brought very large tracts of land into cultivation. The other major contribution of the decade was the Kombinati Bofandegii Dushanbe (Dushanbe Textile Conglomerate) that became fully operational at this time. In 1966, the conglomerate was included among the largest textile production outlets of the USSR. During the same decade, the Soviet Tajiks made great progress in automobile manufacturing, electric technology, and chemical industry. There were 225 large institutions, factories, and branches built, including the Tajik Textilemash, Tajik Atlas, the Isfara light industry, the Vakhsh mineral factory, the Pamir refrigerators, the Anzob Kombinat, among others. In spite of the social upheavals taking place in the republic, Soviet Tajiks continued their efforts in promoting Tajik agriculture and light industry. A gigantic hydroelectric station with the capacity of 2.7 million kilowatts of energy appeared on the Vakhsh river and boosted man power to its limits. The resulting agricultural surplus raised the Tajiks’ purchasing power, benefited the economy, as well as the government. Agricultural surplus and new commodities, such as furniture made in Dushanbe, formed the basis of inter-republic trade between Tajikistan and her neighbors. At the Union level, the march toward socialism continued with an overhaul of the educational system to reflect the rapid changes in the social life of the people. At the level of the individual, a quarter of the people received new housing, salaries were automatically raised, and life conditions, in general, improved in a meaningful and substantial manner.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

THE REGIONAL PRODUCTIONS COMPLEX The major contribution of the late 1960s and early 1970s was the Regional Productions Complex in Tajikistan (hence RPCT) the foundational stone for which had been put in place in the late 1920s. The largest production center in Central Asia, RPCT was also one of ten such mega production centers in the former Soviet Union. These complexes were located mostly in the eastern parts of the former USSR where natural resources were abundant. The complex was especially mentioned in the proceedings of the twenty-fifth meeting of the CPSU.94 Covering over 34,000 square kilometers, the complex was limited to the north by the Leninabad oblast′95 and the Hisor mountain range; to the west by the Republic of Uzbekistan and the Babataq range; to the east by GBAO (Badakhshoni Kuhi) and the Hazrati Shah range; and to the south by Afghanistan and the Panj and Amu rivers. The RPCT served as a framework for future progress in the Kuhiston region for the Soviet Union and, in a general way, for Tajikistan. It was mandated, following the directive of the 1971 meeting of the CPSU, whereby the Norak Hydroelectric Station, the Yovon Electrochemical Station, and the Tajikistan Aluminum Plant were approved as the cornerstone of a major complex with the potential of realizing the dreams of the original planners (such as the integration of agriculture and industry in a harmonious manner; while, at the same time, controlling the main body of Tajikistan’s economy). Required by the rapid development of the Soviet Union as a whole, and the demographic projections of the time, especially for Central Asia, the complex was a virtual necessity. It was built in two phases. Phase one upgraded the existing factories, plants, communication systems, irrigation canals, and water reservoirs. A good portion of the area, especially in the Vakhsh valley and the Hisor region, had already been developed. The task at hand, therefore, was to modernize those factories and mechanize the agricultural sectors that fed them. This included the completion of the three Norak hydroelectric stations; the first unit of the Tajikistan aluminum plant; the mining operation in Anzob; the Termez-Dushanbe railroad, a must for the smooth operation of the needs of the RPCT; and the gas 94 Kh. Saidmurodov, “Kompeleksi Mintaqavio Istihsolii Tojikistoni Janubi,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 3, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1981), 412. 95 An administrative division in the former Soviet Union.

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distribution center of Dushanbe. All these units went into operation at about the same time.96 The utilization of much of the unused land had started during the first five-year plan in connection with the Vakhsh irrigation system, itself originally created for the production of mahinnakh cotton. Now, related industries—oil extraction and textile production—were added to make the operation efficient and to utilize the byproducts that otherwise would be discarded as waste. It was also decided to add new, urgently needed factories and plants to complement those upgraded and refurbished. As a general assessment, it could be said that the first phase made southern Tajikistan self-sufficient. Phase two included major stations, reservoirs, and land reclamation schemes that went beyond republic self-sufficiency and into the realm of exporting energy, and other commodities, to the neighboring republics nationwide. These developments generated a considerable amount of revenue, a part of which was devoted to the improvement of Tajik education, economy, and other aspects leading to complete self-sufficiency. In the geographic limits outlined above, the RPCT encompassed four major provinces, each with administrative raions and urban centers with small town status (posiyolkai tipi shahri). Both the province and the raion had their own centers with the center of the province serving as the liaison between the region and the capital at Dushanbe. The RPCT included the following four major regions: the Hisor/Qarotegin region, which included Dushanbe; the Darvoz and Gorno-Badakhshan region; Kulob; and Qurghonteppa.97 The provinces and their major cities often shared the same history. Some of these local histories date back to the time of the Achaemenids while others belong to the era of the Kushanids, or even the Arab invasion. The preliminary steps for the unification of agriculture and industry took place in towns like Kulob. This sleepy town near the border of Afghanistan, once elevated, became the center of both the raion and the province. Gradually, it became the center for the production of foodstuffs, building materials, and metallurgy. As the metallurgical center, it produced spare parts for combines, as well as for machines used in the cotton factories and the many textile mills of the area. Additionally, it housed an oil-extraction factory, a plant for the 96 Saidmurodov, “Kompleksi Mintaqavi,” 413. 97 After the 1992 Civil War, the Kulob and Qurghonteppa regions were combined into one region: Khatlon. Here, for historical accuracy, the two will be treated as separate regions.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

production of butter (maska), and several plants for processing meat, baking bread, and producing other commodities.98 Located in the south, the terrain of the province is mountainous; the elevation decreases as one moves south, giving rise to the Kulob (a tributary of the Yakhsu), Panj, Surkhob, Abinkav, and Yakhsu rivers. These rivers contribute to agriculture, the mainstay of life in the river valleys, and to the production of hydroelectric power. As part of their redeployment efforts, especially in view of the use of the rivers for generating electric energy, the Soviets built two water reservoirs in this area: Mu’minobod and Selbur. Kulob does not have a shortage of flora. Its mountainsides and river valleys abound in various types of orchards and vineyards. Pistachio nuts, pomegranate, walnut, and plum trees are as abundant as are willow and plain trees. So are mulberry trees for feeding the silk worm, as well as rice plantations and cotton farms. Even though the higher elevations are given to animal husbandry, one still finds major centers for the production of cumin (zirah), wild rue (ispand), and onion (anzir). But, by far, the major commodities in the province are cotton, grain, fruit, and medicinal plants. Cotton was cultivated before the October Revolution in moderate amounts. After the Revolution, it became a virtual monoculture, feeding four major cotton production centers in Kulob, Farkhor, Maskva, and Panj. In 1978, the province had thirty-four kolkhozes and thirty-one sovkhozes dedicated to cotton production. To begin with, the Soviets took two steps: an assessment of the resources that already existed and a reorganization of the systems of production and delivery of those resources as products to the people of the republic and, in the long run, to the nation. Once that phase was complete, and efficient use was assured, the exploitation phase began. This phase consisted of extraction of gold, asbestos, coal, natural gas, oil, salt, and other minerals. As was the case with agriculture, in order to refine these minerals and make them marketable, special factories were required. The Soviets built those factories, as well as wine, beer, salt, and cotton oil plants. As mentioned in the general statement above, one of the purposes of introducing science and technology into the republic was to assure the wellbeing of the citizenry, and to provide a comfortable work environment devoid 98 Saidmurodov, “Kompleksi Mintaqavi,” 413.

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of discrimination among the kolkhoz farmers, industrial workers, engineers, intellectuals, and artisans. The Soviet Tajiks believed that building an agro-industrial complex in Tajikistan would involve the population of the Kuhiston in building a model Soviet city, a complex in which urban and rural features would merge and everyone would have access to all the amenities of life. The efforts of the agriculturists and chemical engineers in the agro-industrial complex were focused on an efficient use of the natural and human resources of the republic. The Kulob region, to a great degree, illustrates those efforts. The Qurghonteppa province, established in 1944, showcased the accomplishments of the era on a large scale. The province center was the city of Qurghonteppa. The province had eleven raions, three cities, and thirteen posiyolkas in the Vakhsh and Kofarnihon river valleys. Three main irrigation canals—Vakhsh, Sherabad, and Juybar—served its agricultural and industrial needs. Among them, the main Vakhsh canal was noteworthy. An agro-industrial province, Qurghonteppa rested at the heart of the RPCT complex.99 Its agriculture was multi-faceted, especially with respect to the mahinnakh variety of cotton. The province had numerous orchards, vineyards, and citrus groves. It also had a long-standing tradition of silk-worm industry, raising karakul lamb, and beekeeping. In addition to those special features, the province produced various types of grains (wheat, barley, corn, and rice) and exported large amounts of vegetables. A good portion of the prosperity of Qurghonteppa was due to the efforts of those who, in the 1930s, put the Vakhsh irrigation system into operation and modernized and mechanized the region’s agriculture. To that, at the end of the 1960s and the beginning of the 1970s, many stretches of land were added. Pieces of marshland were recovered in Yovon, Abkik, Qaravuti, Tashrabat, Qaradum, and Beshkent valley. Their addition boosted the contribution of the agricultural sector to the highest levels of production. In 1986, for instance, the province had fifty kolkhozes, seventy sovkhozes, and twenty-five inter-agricultural institutions. As mentioned, the builders of the Vakhsh complex planned for efficient use of resources. The capacities of the hydroelectric stations on the Vakhsh river alone bespeak the importance attached to this facet of rural and urban development in the region: Sarband (210,000 kWh), Markazi (18,000 kWh), Sharshar (30,000 kWh), and Boiqozi (600,000 kWh). The energy produced at these stations was fed to such large industrial factories as the Vakhsh mineral (nitrogen) 99 Abdurahimov and Mirkamolov, “Qurghonteppa,” 333.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

factory in Kalininabad, the electrochemical factory at Yovon, and the transformer factory at Qurghonteppa. In turn, these factories satisfied not only the basic needs for which they were built, but also boosted the production capabilities of eight cotton factories, numerous foodstuffs production centers, and several oil extraction factories, as well as canning and meat processing plants. At lower levels, they also contributed to the production of building materials like concrete, bricks, and steel beams. The city of Qurghonteppa, circa the end of the 1960s and beginning of the 1970s, exemplifies the type of urban development that the early Soviet planners had in mind and allows us to measure their success. The city is located on the left shore of the Vakhsh river. Its distance from Dushanbe is about a hundred kilometers. Qurghonteppa’s population grew from 33,000 to 250,000 by 1950 and 650,000 in 1970. By 1989, Qurghonteppa had a population of more than one million.100 Qurghonteppa served as the main center of the province’s industrial, economic, and civic base of activities. In its industrial sector, it housed a plant for the production of transformers, a factory for the production of mechanical spare parts, numerous factories for the production of bread, cotton oil, milk, beer, meat, and various types of grain products. The Tajik Atlas, Dilorom, and Fiftieth Anniversary of the USSR Textile Branch factories all operated in this city. The cityscape included a number of micro-raions as well as numerous tall buildings. The Teachers Training Institute, Energy Technicum, three professional schools, twelve middle schools, and a school of music contributed to the education of the population of Qurghonteppa. In short, Qurghonteppa could educate its children, train them in Soviet culture and, when they entered society, provide them with viable jobs. Between the 1920s and 1980s, the efforts of the Soviet Tajiks were spent on the realization of the socialist dream, communism. In this effort, some Tajiks were more dedicated to the cause than either their Russian brothers or the other comrade republics. At the end, two cities, Dushanbe and Qurghonteppa, exemplified their contributions. Both cities were built in 1924, after the fall of the Emirate of Bukhara.101 Neither city, therefore, had claim to an ancient, or 100 Aziz Niyazi, “Migration, Demography and Socio-Ecological Processes in Tajikistan,” in Migration in Central Asia: Its History and Current Problems, ed. H. Komatu (Osaka: Japan Center for Area Studies, 2000), 169–171. 101 There were some variations in establishment and dissolution of districts and oblast′s, but most were negligible.

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even a medieval past. The individuals who populated them had their original homes elsewhere in the country or the nation. In other words, in Dushanbe and Qurghonteppa, the sense of belonging that holds populations together and incentivizes individuals to protect their place of birth did not exist. That is perhaps why, when calamity struck in the 1990s, Dushanbe became the tinder box that set itself and Qurghonteppa ablaze. The following sums up Tajikistan’s share in USSR production for 1984: Cotton production

10.8%

Cotton yarn

11%

Silk yarn

9.2%

Plant oil

3.1%

Canned fruits and vegetable

1.7%

THE CONFLICT DEEPENS In the 1940s, after World War II, a confrontation occurred between the Soviet Tajiks, especially those who were not ethnic Tajik, and the Muslim Tajiks. As mentioned, the conflict could not be resolved due to the nature of the courts that the opponents adhered to. Consequently, the state used force and suppressed the Muslim Tajiks. The situation remained unresolved but not forgotten. The Soviets went about finding new ways to break up the solidarity of the Muslim Tajiks and the Muslim Tajiks persevered and found new ways to weaken the Soviet system. What follows covers some of the activities of each side as Tajik society becomes less secure, economically bankrupt, and politically polarized. Towards the end of Rasulov’s rule, in the late 1970s, the Soviets intensified their overall anti-Islamic efforts with a program called merging (sliianie). The goal of the program was achieving a desired amount of mixing among Tajiks and non-Tajiks. For this reason, the Soviets invited large numbers of Russians to Tajikistan. As a result, a considerable number of Russian settlers were injected into Tajik society. Taking advantage of Tajik hospitality, the new immigrants gradually moved into the homes of the Tajiks and took their property. In addition, they seized control of the lucrative positions that opened up at the hydroelectric plants, factories, mechanized farms, and industries. Finally, they pushed the Tajiks out of their own public housing facilities. According to Bazorov and Majidov, who

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

wrote a report about the activities of the Soviet officials in the rural districts,102 and Safarov, who wrote a similar report on their treatment of the Sufi ishons,103 the new arrivals intended to eradicate Islam systematically from Tajik culture. Additionally, a rigorous program of Sovietization, similar to the ones in the early days of the republic was established. In schools, in addition to attending seminars and conferences,104 the teachers were forced to teach atheism and to emphasize the advantages of the new advances in astronomy, physics, chemistry, biology, and physiology. Similarly, Soviet doctors and interns were instructed to “enlighten” the masses with discussions about the marvels of new medicine, especially emphasizing the healing power of the new drugs as opposed to the lack of efficacy in the remedies prescribed by the ishons.105 Those who refused to participate in the process or continued to visit the ziyorats (tombs of saints) and mazors (graveyards) were summarily dismissed. Journalists, radio and television broadcasters, publishers, and writers were asked to participate in the process by broadcasting, writing, and disseminating news that exposed the misdeeds of the ishons. The government itself published and widely distributed materials in Tajiki, refuting the claims of the ishons regarding the existence of barakah (a type of blessing).106 Again, as they had done during the early years of dealing with Tajiks, the Soviets sought help in carrying out those programs from several segments of the Tajik population, including the elderly and the talented women.107 Trusted clerical converts and pensioners who had fought in the Basmachi and the world wars were persuaded to exert their influence on Tajik youths. Women brought from the qishloqs were trained in urban centers and returned to the qishloqs where the elderly were already working. They were to influence those young men whom the elderly and the clergy had failed to reach. Books were written about the degradation of the clergy, most of whom were respected aksakals, as well as about the suppression of Islamic rituals, and the enforcement of mandatory language laws. The Soviets’ ban on the cultural 102 O. Bazarov and R. Majidov. Boqimondahoi Dini Eslom va Rohhi Bartaraf Namudani Onho (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1968). 103 A. Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish Ishonho va Rohhoi Bartaraf Kardani Onho dar Tojikiston (Dushanbe: Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan, 1965). 104 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 62–63. 105 Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 25, 31. 106 Ibid., 32–33. 107 Bazarov and Majidov, Boqimondahoi Din, 67–68.

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festivals (an’anah)108 distressed the aksakals the most. After all, the aksakals were the custodians of the nation’s ancient heritage and were obliged to celebrate such rites of passage as circumcisions. But the fear that they might lose the custody of their children to the State prevented them from carrying out their duties.109 All ceremonies (tuys), therefore, were held in absolute secrecy. The program, having accomplished its purpose, was concluded in 1976–1977.110 As expected, the Muslim Tajiks did not remain neutral to this assault on their cherished values. Actually, there was reaction from the Tajiks themselves, as well as from the Muslim countries in general. In 1973, a program called “Islam Against Communism” was introduced in Central Asia, supported by the United States, Britain, Saudi Arabia, and other countries. In Tajikistan, that program boosted the covert activities of the Tajik Muslims. In fact, their activities were strengthened financially by the Saudis (1975). The most effective response in the republic, however, appeared in 1976. In that year, the first anti-communist protest by a Muslim group in Central Asia was staged in Qurghonteppa by Mullo Abdullo Nuri. Actually, the group had been formed in response to the type of oppressive measures outlined above, in the mid-1970s. The group called Liberated Youth Organization (sozmoni javononi ozod) or LYO, began operation in Qurghonteppa, shortly after its formation. Led by Nuri, the clandestine group intended to perpetuate Tajik ethnicity, while establishing ideological ties with Islamic organizations outside the Soviet Union. By linking up with Hikmatyar’s Hizbi Islomii Afqoniston (Islamic party of Afghanistan),111 it provided teachers to promote ethnic pride and Islamic ideology in the Tajik countryside. Nuri’s 1976 protest was followed, in 1978, by a covert Islamic movement in the Soviet Union called the Islamic Resurgence Party (IRP). The existence of clandestine orders in Central Asia had been known since the 1970s.112 The information gathered, however, did not become fully meaningful until the 1980s and 1990s. At that time, Soviet researchers, who were unable to penetrate the veil of secrecy that masked the true nature of the inner 108 Ibid., 47ff. 109 Dimitry V. Pospielovsky, “A History of Marxist-Leninist Atheism and Soviet Religious Policies,” in Pospielovsky, A History of Soviet Atheism in Theory and Practice, and the Believer, vol. 1 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1987), 87. 110 Alexandre Bennigsen and Marie Broxup, The Islamic Threat to the Soviet State (London: Croon Helm, 1983), 51, 54. 111 Ibid., 111–113. 112 Bennigsen and Wimbush, Muslims, 4.

The Sovietization of Tajikistan

sanctum of those “closed societies,” interpreted their activities variously as misguided educational efforts set forth to poison the minds of the youth and to perpetuate superstition. Some attributed the activities of the ishons to charlatanism, distribution of illegal drugs, writing prayer wheels, and praying for the dead.113 Bennigsen and Wimbush, who studied the Sufi orders in the Soviet Union in 1983, evaluated the situation differently. They singled out the activities of the Naqshbandiyyah order on both sides of the Tajik/Afghan border, emphasizing the importance of the clandestine alliance between the LYO and Hikmatyar’s Mujahiddins. The doctrinal, as well as the political ramifications of the alliance, they thought, were germane to a thorough understanding of the growth of Islamic movements in the region.114 It is due to their efforts, for instance, that we know why in spite of the drastic measures taken by Soviet authorities to secure the southern borders, Afghan Mujahiddins traveled in the Soviet countryside unencumbered.115 The activities of the LYO, of course, were not totally hidden from the authorities in Moscow. Dealing with the spread of the message, however, was a different issue, requiring a degree of caution. There were two options open to the policy makers. The group could be banned, which would give rise to a general feeling of anti-Islamism and destroy what had been achieved since the inauguration of the Directorates and the initiation of renovation programs set in motion after World War II. Alternatively, the group could be discredited publicly and its membership purged officially. As we shall see, Mikhail Gorbachev chose the latter approach. Responding to the demonstrations in Qurghonteppa (October 1986), he, along with Yegor Ligachev, and Alexander Yakovlev voiced their uncompromising stance in speech after speech against religious resurgence in the Union.116 The major events of the 1970s in the region, of course, were those that led to the Soviets’ invasion of Afghanistan (December 24, 1979). From the time that Afghanistan had gained its independence from Britain (1919), the Soviets had aided Afghanistan and developed it as a potential new Soviet republic, and 113 Cf. Safarov, Boqimondahoi Parastish, 7. 114 Khatloni and Istaravshani regard the 1986 uprising, as a result of which Nuri was imprisoned, as the beginning of the confrontation in the south. See Khatloni and Istaravshani, Tufon, 23. 115 Bennigsen and Wimbush, Muslims, 111. 116 Allen Hetmanek, “Islamic Revolution and Jihad Come to the Former Soviet Central Asia: The Case of Tajikistan,” Central Asian Survey 12, no. 3 (1993): 366.

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a showcase for the viability of Communist International.117 In the late 1970s, frustrated at their inability to stem the tide of religious zeal in their southern republics and threatened by a possible Iranian takeover of the region, including Afghanistan, they invaded Afghanistan and remained there until 1989.118 By 1988–1989, half of the children in the primary schools in the Soviet Union were Muslim. A perestroika or an Islamic revolution was all that they needed in order to rise against communism. The 1990s provided exactly that. Riots began in Alma Ata and moved into other capitals including Dushanbe.119 In Tajikistan, the upholders of the Shari’a took the supporters of the Soviet constitution to task.120 In the 1980s, while the CPT was fractured and was undermined by antiParty elements at the top, the Islamic Renaissance Party was controlled by leaders who held positions of importance in various districts, towns, cities, and provinces. Most of them, on the surface, supervised by the clerical establishment sanctioned by the Soviet system. The appointment of Haji Akbar Turajonzoda (1988) made their grip so much tighter. Turajonzoda replaced all but one of the heads of the mosques that so far had been following Soviet dicta, with radical Hanafi clergy (not to be mistaken with Wahhabi clergy). Additionally, he chose the heads of the mosques from among the eligible clergy from the regions. These choices brought cohesion and uniformity to the leadership of the spiritual affairs of the Muslims of Tajikistan. Furthermore, the activities that the traditional clergy had discouraged in the past became the practice. For instance, Muslims could participate in the affairs of the government, interest groups could promote democracy, and nationalists could voice their opinion. Most importantly, groups appeared that on the surface looked quite independent while, in reality, they served the same purpose, upholding the Shari’a. The membership of those groups included workers, teachers, students, government employees, and intellectuals. Put 117 Charles McLane, Soviet-Asian Relations (London: Central Asian Research Center, 1973), 11–23. 118 For details, see Iraj Bashiri, “Soviets Invade Afghanistan,” in Great Events from History: Human Rights, ed. Frank M. Magill, 4th edition (Pasadena, CA: Salem Press, 1992), 2262–2267. 119 Iraj Bashiri, “Muslims Riot Against Russians in Kazakhstan,” in Great Events from History: Human Rights, ed. Frank M. Magill, 5th edition (Pasadena, CA: Salem Press, 1992), 2298–2303. 120 Geoffrey Stern, Atlas of Communism (London: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1991), 214.

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differently, at the time that the CPT was losing ground, the IRPT had the potential of spawning a considerable number of political, cultural, and ideological parties. Soon after the Tajik government recognized the IRPT, other parties, movements, and fronts appeared and, supporting IRPT, demanded change. Unlike the divided communists, however, the Muslim opposition consisted of government officials, intellectuals, politicians, and influential figures who had set themselves the task of reshaping the governmental structure of Tajikistan.121 In addition, in their efforts, they were supported by such religious leaders as Abdullo Saidov (Vakhsh), Qalandar Sadriddinov (Qurghonteppa), Abdulhossein Jalolov (Bokhtar), Mahmadrasul Salomov ( Jilikul), Mahmadsharif Qalandarov (Ghozimalik), Qorbonboi Otajonov (Kolkhozabad), and Qosim Rahimov. They were not only the chief organizers and promoters of radical Hanafi thought in their regions, but also the organizers of the religious schools. At the same time, they carried out preaching tasks, attended tuy celebrations, and, in wakes, performed prayer for the dead. Whenever there was an opportunity, they also distributed anti-socialist and anti-communist teaching materials and videos. Some of the materials were produced in the country while some others were imported.122 The next two leaders are Rahmon Nabiev and Qahhor Mahkamov. In what follows, a brief account of their lives is provided. A fuller account of each life, including activities, rulership capabilities, and personalities will emerge in the course of discussions in the chapters that follow.

RAHMON NABIEV Jabbor Rasulov died on April 2, 1982. Rahmon Nabiev replaced him as first secretary. Nabiev was born in Khujand in 1930 and joined the CPSU in 1961. Nabiev, who had been minister of agriculture and longtime chair of the council of ministers (1973–1982) and a Moscow favorite, was appointed first secretary in 1982. Nabiev’s tenure was turbulent from the beginning. All, of course, due to the regulations that the authorities had imposed on Muslims of Tajikistan during Rasulov’s tenure. Tajikistan, like Uzbekistan, was a special case due to its Muslim communities in Gharm, Qarotegin, Qurghonteppa, Kulob, and Badakhshan. In addition, in the new round of assault on Islam, Russian settlers had been moved to the Muslim republics to literally force the Muslims 121 Cf. Khatloni and Istaravshani, Tufon, 8–15. 122 See ibid., 16.

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to accept communism as a necessity (resembling the Islamization of Bukhara under Qutaiba ibn Muslim). The new Russians were determined to obviate all the vestiges of Tajik culture from the republic. The move, as it was discussed earlier, created difficulties for the authorities. But, in general, they considered it a hurdle that could be overcome. Rather than a glasnost′ reformer, Nabiev was a strict Brezhnev cadre. He was determined to curb Islam promoted by the Pamiris and Gharmis at any cost. In January 1985, people from those regions put on anti-Russian demonstrations in Dushanbe. Their presence shook the city that, was not used to such a blatant breach of the law, but it did not phase Nabiev. In the face of intense Moscow-supported anti-Islamic activities in the Republic, Said Abdullo Nuri urged his followers to petition the 29th Congress of the USSR Communist Party to establish an Islamic republic in Tajikistan. The self-educated technician was imprisoned. In March 1985, Mikhail Gorbachev became the General Secretary of the CPSU. He banned certain behaviors, like consumption of alcoholic drinks, by officials. Nabiev did not heed Gorbachev’s orders. He was ousted as the head of the Supreme Soviet on charges of corruption in 1985123 and replaced by Qahhor Mahkamov in 1986.

QAHHOR MAHKAMOV Qahhor Mahkamov was born in 1932, in Khujand. He joined the USSR Communist Party in 1957. In 1986, after Nabiev was dismissed (1985), he was appointed First Secretary of the Communist Party of Tajikistan by the Supreme Soviet.124 In March 1991, when Tajikistan became independent of the Soviet Union, Mahkamov became the first president of the republic. In September of the same year, he was accused of supporting the plotters in the August Coup.125 Unable to bear the intense public pressure generated, he resigned.126 Qadriddin Aslonov became the next president.127

123 For a more comprehensive account of Nabiev’s life, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 210–211. 124 For the decree dismissing Nabiev due to illness, see Hikmatullo Nasriddinov, Tarkish (Dushanbe: Afsona Publishers, 1995), 18. 125 For information on the August Coup, see Martin Sixsmith, “The August Coup,” in Soviet Communism from Reform to Collapse, ed. Robert V. Daniels (Lexington, MA: D. C. Heath and Company, 1995), 253–268. 126 For an account of Mahkamov’s life, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 174–175. 127 For an account of Aslonov’s life, see Bashiri, ibid., 43; Fedorova, Goroda Tadzhikistana, 39.

CHAPTER 4

End of an Era INTRODUCTION

T

his chapter deals with the events that, after the fall of the Soviet Union, culminated in the fall of the CPT. Events covered include the February 1990 riots and their cause, the toppling of Lenin’s statue, and the creation of the Government of National Reconciliation (GNR) dominated by Islamists. The chapter also covers the emergence of new political parties, cultural movements, and their potential for bringing about change. The major event during this time is the battle for the presidency of Tajikistan but, more importantly, an assessment of the nature of the body of laws that should support the presidency. Should those laws be based on the Islamic Shari’a, or should the Soviet laws that had been in force prior to the presidency stand? The chapter ends with an account of the activities of the leaders of the IRPT that led to the formation of the GNR. The GNR failed because it could not gain the support of Khujand, Kulob, and Hisor, the major centers of communist power.1

THE FEBRUARY RIOTS In 1985, the First Secretary of the CPT, Rahmon Nabiev, was ousted on corruption charges. Qahhor Mahkamov succeeded him. Mahkamov authored the 1989 “Language Law” that made Tajiki the official language and Russian the language of inter-ethnic communication in Tajikistan. The decision to propose the new language law grew out of the frustration of Tajiks who, for seventy years, had been deprived of the use of their native language for free expression of their thoughts and feelings. The implementation 1 David T. Twinning, The New Eurasia: A Guide to the Republics of Former Soviet Union (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1993), 165.

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of the law led to tension between the Russians who resided in the republic and the Tajik inhabitants. That tension soon grew into a conflict between the communists of the republic versus the Islamic (mostly radical Hanafi, Wahhabi), as well as the democratic, and reform-minded inhabitants. In addition, Qahhor Mahkamov sat through the February riots, which broke out in Dushanbe between February 11 and 15, 1990, resulting in the death of a number of innocent citizens. The untenable situation that obtained caused the departure of many non-Central Asians, especially Germans, Jews, and Russians from the republic. Some citizens moved north to Khujand and Chkalovsk to stay out of harm’s way, others left the republic permanently for the Russian Federation and the European republics of the Soviet Union. What follows is an outline of the February riots. On February 9, 1990, rumors circulated in Dushanbe that the government of Tajikistan had secretly provided housing for refugees fleeing the conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh. Rumors in the Tajik capital were not a new phenomenon. For example, a rumor regarding Russians being moved to the state had come true. There already existed an acute housing shortage in the city, which made the rumor more compelling. Thus, even though there was no hard evidence, many believed the rumor and wanted to question the appropriateness of the government’s housing decision. More importantly, they wanted to know why their government should keep the information from them.2 The Tajik youth and the Islamic radicals that had started the rumor took advantage of the situation and turned demand for answers led by the emerging democratic and reformist forces into a riot. The crowd gathered in front of the Central Committee building on Rudaki Boulevard. It was confronted by the Dushanbe police and the 201st Russian Rifle Division soldiers.3 They demanded information about the housing crisis in the city and asked whether, indeed, Armenian refugees had been given preferential treatment. Throughout that day, Mahkamov and his government, as had been the practice for seventy years, ignored the demands of the demonstrators. Eventually, late in the afternoon, he appeared in a corner of the square and, addressing the demonstrators, said, “By the pure milk of my mother, I have not given any housing or any position to Armenians.” The crowd shouted obscenities. One even threw an old shoe at Mahkamov that hit him in the face.4 2

Karim (also referred to as Karimov, but we shall call him Karim for the sake of consistency), Fariodi Solho. Moscow: Transdornauka Publishers, 1997, 92–93. 3 For the 201st Russian Rifle Division, see Mandelbaum, Michael, ed. Central Asia and the World. New York: Council on Foreign Relations Press, 1994, 212. 4 For details, see Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 68–70.

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Worried about the situation, Mahkamov called on Haji Akbar Turajonzoda, in his capacity as the qozikalon, to persuade the crowd to disband. Turajonzoda’s role, at this juncture, was religious in nature and not politically motivated. The crowd disbanded, after receiving assurance through Turajonzoda that its demands would be met within the next twenty-four hours. The next day, the crowd returned and demanded that Mahkamov appear before them and answer their questions. Rather than Mahkamov, they were met by guards who threw tear gas canisters at them. Before long, tear gas canisters changed to live ammunition ending in the death of six and wounding of twenty-seven protestors. The protestors retaliated. In their rage, they destroyed twenty-four stores, twenty-two restaurants and hotels, six buildings, two movie theaters, two banks, and a number of private and official vehicles. At 8:00 pm, a curfew under General Navjuvonov went into effect.5 February 13, 1990, began very much like the previous day. The crowd, mourning the deaths that had occurred the previous day, was confronted with force of arms and disbanded. Hours later, however, it returned in full strength. On the surface, the government continued to ignore it, but otherwise, it busied itself organizing guards and military units to isolate known groups and arrest their ringleaders. As for the demonstrators, they talked among themselves and formed a seventeen-member commission to meet with government authorities to put an end to the unrest. With Mahkamov’s approval, Buri Karim, a reformist and the Chairman of State Planning Agency (Gosplan), was chosen as people’s representative. Early in the evening of the 13th, Karim met with Mahkamov and his Tajik and Soviet aides in the Politburo. After an intense night of negotiation, the Politburo indicated that it would meet the demands of the demonstrators: it will shed light on the Armenian situation, end the curfew, stop factories from polluting the air, and end unemployment, as well as ask Pallaev,6 Hayoev,7 and Mahkamov to tender their resignations.8 With this assurance, Karim agreed to end the protests. The Politburo, however, did not allow the report of that night’s discussion, especially the promise regarding the resignation of Mahkamov, Pallaev, and Hayoev, to be broadcast by radio and television. Instead, it submitted 5 Tim Epkenhans, The Origins of the Civil War in Tajikistan: Nationalism, Islamism, and the Violent Conflict in Post-Soviet Space (New York: Lexington books, 2016), 115–120. 6 For Pallaev’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 250–251. 7 For Hayoev’s biography, see ibid., 113. 8 Karim, Fariod, 103.

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its decision directly to the Plenum for ratification. The next day, the Plenum rejected the protestors’ demands and decreed that matters in the republic should proceed as they had been prior to the riots. At the same time, it prepared the ground for Buri Karim’s subpoena. In a post-Mahkamov administration, it was argued, Buri Karim would have had a good chance of becoming first secretary. Furthermore, the government, in order to show the public that it will not tolerate actions that end in innocent casualties and deaths, established a commission of inquiry to investigate the February events. On February 25, 1990, the Supreme Soviet elected a number of Muslim representatives that, in a normal situation, would not have found their way into those positions. Elected for the five-year legislative term, they were the registered religious figures from Kofarnihon (Turajonzoda), Isfara (Hadyatullo Odilov), and Kulob (Haidar Sharifzoda),9 as well as four democrats (Tohir Abdujabbor,10 Gulrukhsor Safieva,11 Asliddin Sohibnazar, and Bozor Sobir).12 There were also some vocal, non-Tajik representatives from the Uzbek, Russian, and Kyrgyz minorities. Those changes indicated that after the February 11 event, the Communist Party had not only lost some of its prestige, but also many of its members. Worse yet, as Islamists and reformists were moving in, more and more Communist Party members were leaving their governmental positions for the freedom of the public sector. April 12, 1990, was an important date in Mahkamov’s chairmanship of the Communist Party. On that day, the Supreme Soviet had to decide whether the incumbent Ghoibnazar Pallaev should continue for another term as the chairman of the Supreme Soviet, or whether he should be replaced by Qadriddin Aslonov. Pallaev was a veteran communist firmly grounded in the tradition of the Party, while Aslonov, although a communist, leaned heavily towards the Islamists and the emerging democratic forces. In the past, Mahkamov had been supportive of the veteran who had been at helm for twenty years. Under the prevailing circumstance, however, he opted for a fresh start with Qadriddin Aslonov. Whether that was the right choice for him remained to be seen. Although, according to the old rules, Pallaev was to be the victor hands down, he received only 36% of the vote. Aslonov became the chairman of the Supreme Soviet. With Aslonov at the helm, Mahkamov’s position as first secretary became   9 10 11 12

For Sharifzoda’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 319. For the biography of Abdujabbor (same as Abdujabborov), see ibid., 1. For Safieva’s biography, see ibid., 301. For the biography of Sobir (same as Sobirov), see ibid., 329–331.

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increasingly precarious. Here and there, he was referred to as the leader incapable of understanding the message of perestroika and glasnost’. Before long, not only Mahkamov’s presidency, but the nature of the office of the president, and the governmental apparatus working with him, came under scrutiny. In future Tajikistan, it was asked, what role should the president play? What role, if any, should the Supreme Soviet play? On November 30, 1990, Mahkamov’s role in the republic became more prominent. Following Gorbachev’s structural changes, Mahkamov’s position was automatically elevated to that of president. In an atmosphere of distrust, his presidency lasted for about nine months. Following his feeling that the CPSU was bound to rise above the demands of the reformist democrats in Moscow, Mahkamov supported the August 1991 Coup. His instincts were wrong. Repeating the February riots, protestors took to the streets of Dushanbe again. This time, they were asking for the resignation of Qahhor Mahkamov. On August 31, 1991, Mahkamov stepped down as president and resigned his position as first secretary. Qadriddin Aslonov became both acting first secretary and acting president. The February events revealed much about the character of the Tajiks and about their understanding of the roles of communism, Islam, and democracy in their government and society. It also revealed a great deal about Mahkamov as an individual and a politician. Tajiks are a Muslim people dedicated to their land and language. Their ideas about government are reflected in books such as the Siyasatname (Book of Government) by Khwaja Nizam al-Mulk (1018–1092). Copies of these books are on sale at every bookstore in Dushanbe. Mahkamov, who grew up in an orphanage, spoke only Russian, and paid particular attention to the rules of the Communist Party, was unaware of this heritage. As the power of the Muslims in the republic grew, and new attitudes towards rulership emerged, he became concerned about several individuals around him, especially Safarali Kenjaev and his like.13 He needed to know whether the suspected dissenters were affiliated with the new trends and movements that were increasingly permeating Tajik society. Kenjaev was a lawyer. A cursory look at his Suzi Dil (Heartache) indicates that he was a just and knowledgeable professional, brought up in the tradition of the highly centralized government-run Soviet schools. He spent his early life

13 For Kenjaev’s biography, see ibid., 156–158.

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as a Soviet youth excelling in the positive points of Soviet education.14 He used his instincts and knowledge of the law to prosecute difficult cases. His Suzi Dil, a collection of cases dealing with people from all walks of life, especially administrators who find themselves on the wrong side of the law, is indicative of that. As a political leader, he believed that all important issues should be reported to one’s superiors. He endeavored to define and clarify issues related to the present and future of the republic and encouraged others to scrutinize and solve problems through the application of the existing laws. Unlike many of his peers, who practiced nepotism, Kenjaev used the merit system exclusively. As a result, those he promoted were intellectuals skilled in various professions. In short, he believed in the sanctity of law, integrity of the administrative hierarchies, and safeguarding of the rights of individuals. He placed loyalty above nationality, ethnicity, religion, and place of origin. During his presidency, Mahkamov chose Kenjaev as his source of information on his assistants, especially their affiliation with the newly-formed parties and movements. But first, he had to learn more about Kenjaev and his views on the current state of affairs. He, therefore, summoned Kenjaev to his office and asked him whether the rumor that he was a member of the Rastokhiz (Renaissance) Party was true. Kenjaev refuted the rumor categorically and stated that it was beneath his dignity to join a party that had scum like Tohir Abdujabbor and Mirbobo Mirrahim as its director and assistant director, respectively. Kenjaev then advised the president not to be swayed by baseless allegations.15 Mahkamov found Kenjaev a no-nonsense type of individual, dedicated to the enforcement of the law and improvement of the welfare of the common Tajik, and a person who, if necessary, would not shy away from addressing the shortcomings of his colleagues to their face.16 Mahkamov was particularly curious about Islam as a rising force in Central Asia. More than that, he was intrigued by the spectrum of beliefs and practices (Hanafi, Hanbali, Sufi, Isma’ili, and Wahhabi) that coexisted in the republic. Two or three months after the above discussion, Mahkamov consulted with Kenjaev again, this time in relation to the IRPT that had recently been seeking to be registered by the state. Kenjaev told Mahkamov that the IRPT was an illegal party and that its registration in Tajikistan was out of the question. He reminded the president that, according to Soviet law, religion 14 Kenjaev, Suzi Dil, 5–9. 15 Safarali Kenjaev, Tabadduloti Tojikiston, vol. 1 (Dushanbe: Fonde Kenjaev, 1993), 15. 16 Ibid., 13–14

End of an Era

cannot interfere in the affairs of the government and vice versa. In subsequent days, Kenjaev summarized the legal issues related to Mahkamov’s query regarding the future status of Islam in the republic in a six-page document and left it with Mahkamov. In this document, based on Soviet law, Kenjaev indicated that the IRPT had ominous intentions for the republic.17 As a result, for a long time, Mahkamov refused to allow the IRPT to be registered in Tajikistan, even though the other Central Asian republics had registered Islamic parties, and an all-Islamic Renaissance Union Party existed. In June 1990, the IRPT was registered, but its activities were banned immediately after registration. The February events also showed that, unlike other leaders of Central Asian republics, Mahkamov was neither a versatile president, nor one with a vision for Tajikistan. He was an atheist internationalist whose forte was moving affairs with the help of Soviet aides. So, when he came face to face with fresh forces demanding immediate change, he became absolutely baffled. During the February riots, he acted in a most cowardly fashion. From the onset of the riots, he refused to meet with the protestors. Had he met with them face to face, listened to their complaints in their language, and promised cooperation, the chances are that they would have respected his office and would have disbanded. Instead, he acted like an arrogant technocrat. It took Turajonzoda’s political skills to channel the crowd’s frustration, dejection, and confusion away from vandalism and chaos. Unlike Rahmon Nabiev, Asliddin Sohibnazar, and many others, Mahkamov was not fully familiar with the evolving cultural, political, and economic dynamics of rural Tajikistan. He was educated as a mining engineer. Before becoming first secretary, he was the director of a coal mine near Isfara. This discrepancy was manageable when dealing with the kolkhoz and sovkhoz systems in which government employees presented the annual output, and the authorities, often without proper investigation, verified the amounts presented by the agro-business personnel. That kind of knowledge was insufficient for responding meaningfully to the needs of suffering masses oppressed by the cadres of an exploitative and flawed system. The problem was exacerbated by the fact that the Soviet Union was increasingly distancing itself from its former satellites. This does not mean that Mahkamov was not aware that Tajikistan’s economy no longer received any subsidies from the center. It means that he lacked the vision necessary to propose a solution for the problems that inevitably would arise. 17 Ibid., 16.

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As time went by, those with special skills, mostly Soviets from other republics, left the Party and the country. Their place was filled by Tajiks from the heartland, mostly individuals looking for better ways to enrich their lives. Mahkamov was not blind to the existence of the problem but, as mentioned, did not have a solution for it—at least a workable solution. Rather, he waited for orders from above; orders that never materialized. The more economic difficulties mounted, the more Mahkamov’s inability to cope with the pressing problems of the republic became obvious. Towards the end of his presidency, Mahkamov appointed Kenjaev consultant to the president on issues related to law, presidential decrees, the activities of the cabinet of ministers, and anticrime activities. To carry out this task properly, he gave Kenjaev a dozen assistants. When the opposition protested that the president did not have the right to create such a position, Mahkamov responded by changing the name of Kenjaev’s unit to President’s Supervisory Committee.18 With the attributes outlined above for Kenjaev, he probably was the wrong choice for Mahkamov to head that committee. Within a short time, the committee uncovered much corrupt activity at the city and state levels. It even discovered some connections to international mafia. The intermittent reports of the committee caused many to lose their lucrative positions, some of them were prominent community leaders. The committee also delved into the depths of Soviet shortfalls during the seventy years of the rule of the Communist Party, leading to corruption at high places. At the end, the committee uncovered immorality and fraud at the office of the president, a discovery that dismayed President Mahkamov.19 Kenjaev provided figures accumulated by the investigators of the President’s Supervisory Committee (1989–1991). Most of the fifty-nine firms and companies that were involved in money exchanges, carried out their transactions with foreign companies through middle men who were not completely upright: the money that was received to repair company equipment or to buy new machines was spent on the officials’ private cars, video players, and audio cassettes.20 Several cases indicated that those firms continued giving Tajik money to foreign companies even during the time when the economic situation in the country was at its worst (1989–1990).21 The committee sent several 18 19 20 21

Ibid., 16. Ibid., 16–17. Ibid., 16–17. Ibid., 18.

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reports to President Mahkamov, the Cabinet of Ministers, and the Supreme Soviet directorship, but it did not receive any response.22 At the end, the Supreme Soviet singled out Mahkamov as the main cause of the recent difficulties, and called for a vote of non-confidence. In that session, Kenjaev claimed that Mahkamov was incapable of solving the smallest of the problems. Mahkamov’s status among the people was diminishing daily and during his presidency national and international mafia established roots in the republic and were gaining strength.23 Nasriddinov provides an account of Mahkamov’s corrupt activities. His account, which confirms Kenjaev’s assertions, is credible because he knew Mahkamov over a number of years and had worked with him closely. He provides ample examples of Mahkamov’s attempts at destroying the cadres in the south in order to open space for his associates from the north. He also illustrates how Mahkamov gained independent one-man control over the ministries in the government.24 Although the opposition against Mahkamov in the south was centered in Qurghonteppa, its roots were extensive. They went as far as Qarotegin, Gharm, and the Pamirs.25 Neither was this lack of popularity only among the Tajiks. Mahkamov was equally unpopular among the Uzbeks of Tajikistan who openly rebuked him to his face and called him incompetent. Something that the Tajiks dared not do.26 Mahkamov’s presidency was evaluated by his own supporters as the worst presidency possible. They held him responsible for the economic collapse. They were curious as to why the very cadres whose duty it was to provide security for the public should themselves rob the public. The cadres, people complained, confiscated their property and, whenever there was an opportunity, robbed the government as well. They wondered why, after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Mahkamov did not make any attempt to establish meaningful relations with the countries of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) and of the world at large.27 Under his rule, they complained, the nation had become 22 Ibid., 18–19. 23 Ibid., 19. 24 Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 35–38. 25 Ibid., 47–48. 26 Ibid., 44. 27 For the role of the CIS in post-Soviet era, see Robert V. Daniels, “The End of the USSR,” in Daniels, Soviet Communism from Reform to Collapse (Lexington, MA: D. C. Heath and Company, 1995), 311–319.

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poorer and the public, following the example of their peers in the government, had become a mafia unto themselves.28 But was all that Mahkamov’s fault? A good deal of it was. Mahkamov could have strengthened the republic by using some of the democratic trends that were reshaping the Russian society of the time. He could have used the diverse concepts set forth by fledgling parties and improve the economy, stem regionalism, promote international relations, and human rights. But, instead, he spent the first six months of his presidency fighting those same democratic forces. He hoped, in the end, that the Communist Party would triumph and prosperity would return.29

THE WRONG ADVISOR Why was Kenjaev, at that juncture, the wrong advisor on Islamic affairs for ­Mahkamov? Kenjaev was a brilliant Soviet student of Islam. He knew the Qur’an very well and was well versed in the hadith. This was required of good Soviet students of Islam because, in their profession, they had to deal with hard core Muslims. Their job was to convince Muslim leaders of the benefits of socialism and, as we have seen earlier, the harms that Islam, especially following the Islamic Shari’a, incurs on them physically (with fasting) and financially (for example, the hajj pilgrimage and the Id al-Fitr).30 Both his Suzi Dil and Tabaddulot testify to the fact that Kenjaev was proficient in the atheists’ scientific reaction to Islamic tenets. The issue is not so much Kenjaev’s knowledge of Islam, or whether he was fully aware of the differences between the Hanafi and Hanbali branches of Islam, but rather his perception of Islam. Arising from atheist teachings, his perception was at odds with his knowledge. To him, the mainstream Hanafi Soviet Muslims, the radical Hanafi Muslims, the Wahhabis, the Sufis, and the Shi’ites were all the same (meaning, they were anti-­communists). That fact, automatically equated them with the Basmachi-type rebels or kulaks of the early days of the Soviet rule. By advising Mahkamov to keep the IRPT outside the government, he was basically protecting communism, in his opinion the only legitimate source of power in the Union. That, however, was not the full extent of Kenjaev’s flawed handling of Islam in Tajikistan in the 1990s. He also misguided the uneducated Muslims 28 Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 135–137. 29 Ibid., 140–142. 30 Id al-Fitr is the celebration held at the end of the month of fasting (Ramadan).

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themselves as to who they had been and what their logical and apt options were under the prevailing circumstances. Seeing how close in practice radical Hanafis, a large majority, were to the Wahhabis, he labeled all anti-Soviet Muslims Wahhabis. This generalization created a great deal of confusion in the Tajiks’ perception of each other and of their collective actions both before and during the civil war. I went to Tajikistan for the first time in 1990 expressly to study the Tajiks’ understanding of Islam after seventy years of Soviet rule. Naturally, one issue of interest was for me the degree of knowledge the Tajiks had about Wahhabism and the influence of the Wahhabis in contemporary Tajik society. Most of the people, even those claiming knowledge about religion, did not know much about Wahhabism. Some confused Wahhabism with Baha’ism, a religion that, at the time, was making inroads in Tajikistan. Wahhabism, in considerable strength, appeared in the south when Pallaev was head of the Executive Committee of Qurghonteppa (early 1980s). At the time, Wahhabi leaders held meetings openly and the first clandestine Islamic schools were established. The schools’ curriculum included religious subjects as well as denunciations of the Communist Party. Children from ten to fifteen years of age were taught to hate communists. They were also taught which religions were friendly and which were foes.31 The most important event of the time is the struggle between Nabiev and Pallaev with regard to the placement of the cadres. This struggle eventually morphed into a struggle among Badakhshani students in Dushanbe, some supporting the policies of Nabiev, and some the policies of Pallaev.32 In support of Nabiev, Kenjaev frightened the Tajiks (that is, mainstream Soviet Muslims, Russians, Ukrainians, Koreans, and others) by demonizing radical Hanafis as Wahhabis. This strategy was effective for the following reasons. First, there was no question that both the Wahhabis and radical Hanafis were anti-Soviet. Second, many of the rituals that the radical Hanafis performed, as opposed to the principles that they followed, were similar to those of the Wahhabis. Third, as explained earlier, the number of Wahhabis in Tajikistan had increased. Some Wahhabis from Ferghana had moved to southern Tajikistan. Again, as explained, the government facilitated the movement of the Wahhabis into the Soviet Union through cultural exchanges of students and faculty with Saudi Arabia. Students returning from Saudi Arabia and Saudi 31 Ibid., 24–25. 32 Ibid., 24–28.

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teachers, invited by their students to southern Tajikistan, promoted the Wahhabi way of life. At the time, Mahkamov needed someone with a better understanding of the demands of the people as a whole, especially in view of the decline of interest in communist ideology. Kenjaev was a Nabiev loyalist and a staunch defender of atheism. He was incapable of hearing the voices that cried for reforms set forth by perestroika and glasnost′, the very voices that Mahkamov had hoped to hear from his advisor.33

THE LENIN STATUE In August 1991, members of the Russian government attempted to take control of the Soviet Union from President and General Secretary of the country, Mikhail Gorbachev. The attempt variously referred to as Coup d’état, Putsch, and August Coup, was unsuccessful. It led to the establishment of the Russian Federation with privileges similar to the other Soviet Union republics. During the short period that the coup was in progress, the peoples of the former Soviet Union tried to understand the impact of the coup on their governments and their own lives. In Dushanbe, these concerns were summed up in the destruction of Lenin’s statue. The statue, erected in the center of Dushanbe in 1926, stood in front of the Supreme Soviet building. Lenin’s outstretched arm indicated the Tajiks’ ascent to the peak of communism. Lenin’s statue, and indeed Lenin’s contribution to Tajik society, was viewed differently by different Tajiks. Some, especially the communists, looked upon Lenin as their eternal guide to the peaks of communism. They were convinced that the dohi could not make mistakes. They did not see any evil in his words and deeds. In fact, they regarded him as the leader who had made human beings out of Tajiks. This was particularly true when they compared Tajikistan of the 1990s with neighboring Afghanistan and the squalor in which the Afghans lived. Others, primarily radical Hanafis, Wahhabis, and democratic-minded Tajik reformers regarded Lenin as the agent of destruction. They accused him of dismantling the Islamic polity that had supported and guided the Tajiks from the time of the Samanids of Bukhara. They chided Lenin as one who had confiscated the properties of their forefathers by force, and one who had either eliminated those who had refused to comply or, as kulaks, had banished them to Siberia. Furthermore, they accused him as the person who prepared the way 33 For the role of the Wahhabis in Tajikistan in general, see Bashiri, “The Era of,” 95–96.

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for drastic changes in their culture. Changes like replacing the alphabet of their ancestors (alifboi niokon), an act that they thought had made all Tajiks illiterate. Other accusations included burning religious texts, killing scholars, and the like. Altogether, they distinguished Lenin as a leader who had distanced them from the sources of their Islamic heritage. After the August Coup, these two groups, by this time subdivided further into interest subgroups, were deciding the fate of the republic. Mahkamov’s adherence to the Communist Party dismayed many. It meant that the might of the Party was transferred to the previously decorative Supreme Soviet. However, this Soviet would legislate according to a set of as yet to be written laws and regulations. More importantly, in this Soviet Islamists, rather than communists would set the agenda. As mentioned, on August 31, 1991, Mahkamov, who supported the coup, resigned both his positions. The resignation was accepted on September 4. Qadriddin Aslonov was moved to the position of the chairman of the Supreme Soviet and acting president (August 31 to September 23, 1991). His presidency, even though short in duration, had weighty consequences for the future of the republic, especially for the Communist Party. As a first step, on September 9, 1991, Aslonov declared Tajikistan an independent republic, suspended the Communist Party, and froze its assets. Following his lead, the Supreme Soviet changed the names of many streets, squares, and institutions from Soviet names to Tajik names. More importantly, the ban on the IRPT was lifted and many members of the Communist Party, including Aslonov and Ikromov,34 resigned from the Communist Party and burned their Party identification cards in public. This was a decisive moment during which the republic was vulnerable. At a time that it suffered from a lack of political, economic, and cultural unity, the republic had to cope with a lack of decisive leadership, a leader who could talk to the people and invite them to build a unified, constitution-based, secular, democratic government. But alas, the leadership was divided. Compounding the division were the actions of some politicians who, by promoting brotherhood among the communists in Leninabad and Kulob, were alienating the democratic and Islamic groups who hailed from Qarotegin, Badakhshan, and Gharm. In other words, the old communists were labelling the democratic and Islamic groups in the republic as an Islamic “other,” or Wahhabi (see above). This perception that 34 For Ikromov’s life, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 128–129.

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rang true in the society at large had its roots in the thoughts and activities of such social engineers as Safarali Kenjaev. It was this Islamic other that, after Mahkamov’s resignation, became the opposition and remained so in one form or another until the end of the civil war and creation of a unified Tajikistan. During the February events, the true opposition leaders were hidden from sight and worked from behind the scenes. For instance, leaders like Turajonzoda, Abdujabbor, Himmatzoda,35 and others did not participate in the early meetings. Nevertheless, it was clear from their actions that they had set themselves the task of crippling Tajikistan’s moribund communist institutions and introducing their own brand of democratic Islamic rule, possibly in the form of a caliphate.36 On September 21, 1991, visiting the Qoziyyot, Kenjaev was in the company of Haji Akbar Turajonzoda and some of his associates. There, he overheard a conversation between Turajonzoda and President Aslonov. In the course of the conversation, the Qozi encouraged Aslonov to proceed and sign the document. He assured Aslonov that the Qoziyyot would support him fully. When Kenjaev realized that the document under consideration was in relation to the dismantling of the Communist Party, he pleaded with the Qozi not to persuade Aslonov to commit such a grievous, illegal act. The Qozi responded that during the past seventy years, the Party had sucked Tajik blood, killed Tajik religious leaders, and burned the Muslims’ sacred texts. Now, the turn of the Tajiks had come!37 Later the same day, a large crowd gathered in front of the Supreme Soviet building. They demanded a ban on the Communist Party and the confiscation of its assets. Aslonov, Turajonzoda, Shodmon Yusuf,38 Muhammadsharif Himmatzoda, Davlati Ismon, Tohir Abdujabbor, Otakhon Latifi,39 Maqsud Ikromov, Bozor Sobir, Izatullo Hayoev, and others appeared before the crowd and sympathized with the people. Mirbobo Mirrahim praised Aslonov and invited him to address the crowd.40 Aslonov said the exact things that the crowd was waiting to hear. He said, “Comrades, I hereby read the text of the presidential decree about putting an end to the activities of the Communist Party in the entire area of the Republic of Tajikistan. As of today, all the assets and properties of the Communist Party will be taken over by the state.”41 35 For Himmatzoda’s biography, see ibid., 113–114. 36 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot 1, 29. 37 Cf. ibid., 21–22. 38 For the biography of Yusuf (same as Yusupov), see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 376. 39 For Latifi’s biography, see ibid., 173. 40 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot 1, 23. 41 Cf. ibid., 23.

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Within minutes of Aslonov’s speech, Muhammadjon Kholiqov asked Kenjaev to prepare the official decree for the dismissal of the Party and the confiscation of its assets and properties for the president to sign. Kenjaev asked Kholiqov what Aslonov had read. Kholiqov said that was a rough draft written by Tohir Abdujabbor. Kenjaev told Kholiqov that perhaps the president should ask Tohir Abdujabbor to prepare the final official version, too, so that he can sign it.42 After Aslonov’s lecture, Maqsud Ikromov read the decree of the Executive Committee of the City of Dushanbe on the removal of Lenin’s statue from the square. The people reacted very positively and praised Aslonov and Ikromov for their courage. Within a short time, the statue of the dohi was broken up into pieces and removed from the square. Ikromov’s action took the Communist Party by surprise. But it did not prevent Kenjaev from contacting pro-communist representatives to organize an extraordinary session. The extraordinary session reviewed Aslonov’s actions and dismissed him as the president of the republic. Rahmon Nabiev, with 182 votes was appointed chairman of the Supreme Soviet and acting president. The opposition complained that the appointment would give Nabiev incumbent advantage in the upcoming election for president. But the Party did not heed these warnings. The election was to be held in October 1991.

THE LENINABAD-BADAKHSHAN RIVALRY Before the presidential election, Rahmon Nabiev and the opposition agreed to move the date for the election from October 27, 1991, to November 24, 1991. In November, ten candidates and ten running mates participated. At the end, Nabiev and Davlat Khudonazarov43 became the final contenders. Nabiev was portrayed as a future president who would work with the directors of institutions, leaders of kolkhozes and sovkhozes, and with the new and upcoming heads of emerging parties, movements, and associations. His campaign was supported indirectly by criminal networks and racketeers as well. Khudonazarov relied on the votes of the Badakhshanis, the radical Hanafi faithful, and the democrats. On November 24, Nabiev won with 56.9% of the vote. Khudonazarov gathered 30.7%. Initially, Khudonazarov rejected the outcome but, once the results were confirmed, he tacitly went along. On December 2, 1991, Nabiev was inaugurated. The only reaction was on the part of the La’li Badakhshon 42 Ibid., 23. 43 For Khudonazarov’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 164–165.

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Movement. On December 9, the members met in Khorugh, Badakhshan, and demanded independence for Badakhshan. Their demand fell on deaf ears. Three influential figures: Safarali Kenjaev, Narzullo Dustov, and Akbar Mirzoev held up Nabiev’s presidency and all three figured quite prominently in the opposition’s future plans. The opposition felt that those three should somehow be brought to its side. If that was not possible, it thought, grounds must be prepared for their dismissal at the hands of the president himself. The last option was elimination. As a person, Mirzoev was very much like Nabiev, noncommittal, quite disorganized, and easy to deal with. Dustov acted upon his own instincts, irrespective of Nabiev’s wishes, while Kenjaev closely followed the republic’s constitution and defended it. As mentioned earlier, from the beginning of Soviet rule in Tajikistan the real authority in the land was in the hands of the Leninabadis. After 1990, the Leninabadi wing of the government became crippled. It no longer could act resolutely, decisively, or strongly. There were several reasons for that. The most important was that it did not have an army. The only force that could be called an “army” in the republic was under the control of the Ministry of Internal Affairs (MIA). The Minister, Navjuvonov, was from Pamir. He was the reason, for instance, why those who destroyed peoples’ properties in the February riots in Dushanbe (1990) were not punished. His alleged mafia connection emboldened hooligans and racketeers to take matters into their own hands without regard for law and order, or fear of it. As outlined above, in 1991, Khudonazarov, Nabiev, and Turaev emerged as prominent figures in Tajik politics among those who participated in the presidential election. After the election, everyone hoped that the trio would agree on a program that would usher in normalcy to Tajik society. But that was not to be. Part of the problem had to do with the personality of the participants. Nabiev relied heavily on the communists; Khudonazarov was surrounded by the lesser parties (the Democrats, the Rastokhiz, La’li Badakhshon, and the IRPT), and Turaev on the business sector. All those parties, especially the Democrats and the Rastokhiz, were newly formed. They did not have the necessary experience, or followers, to be useful in community building. Khudonazarov had hoped to lead them to victory, but he did not succeed. The rivalry between Nabiev and Khudonazarov did not end with the vote for president, as is the case in democratic countries. It went on to divide the Tajikistanis into two camps: Nabiev and his supporters (Leninabadi and Kulobi communists, as well as those who used communism as a mask) versus Khudonazarov and his supporters (the Badakhshani, Gharmi, and Qarotegini

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radicals and the Wahhabis). Both camps drew on a pool of Tajik intellectuals (zioi), who came from all over Tajikistan. For instance, the heads of the Democrats and the Rastokhiz party were both ziois.44 The August 1991 Moscow Putsch helped both candidates. Khudonazarov gained prominence because of his closeness to glasnost’. In fact, the glasnost’ efforts brought up his name to the national level where people realized that Tajikistan had its own favorite son. Glasnost’ also helped Nabiev. His support of the coup had helped him displace Mahkamov, whom the public had marked as indecisive and cowardly. Khudonazarov was young. Youth, however, was not an advantage in a society that associated wisdom with age. For instance, Khudonazarov thought all along that he was in the forefront of the opposition; but in the eyes of his supporters, he was not. The majority considered the head of the IRPT, Haji Akbar Turajonzoda, who was supported by outside forces, such as Iran, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and Libya, to be the strongest individual. Khudonazarov and his Pamiris occupied the second and Rastokhiz and the Democratic Party occupied the other ranks, respectively. After Nabiev was elected, the opposition accepted the outcome as a reality and unwillingly pulled its forces back. Nabiev then formed a cabinet that included Dustov, assistant to the president, Kenjaev, the head of the Supreme Soviet, and Mirzoev, the chairman of the Cabinet of Ministers. There was a tradition in the country going back to the 1950s and earlier that assigned these positions according to predetermined regions.45 According to that arrangement, the position that Kenjaev, a Hisori or Yaghnobi, was occupying should have been offered to a Badakhshani or Gharmi.46 After Khudonazarov’s defeat in the presidential election, the appointment of Kenjaev was a second blow to the honor of the Badakhshanis, a blow that could not be overlooked. The Badakhshanis, as mentioned, had strong connections in the government. Head of the MIA, Mamadayoz Navjuvonov, was from Badakhshan. As a first step, Nabiev tried to diminish the power of his opposition and check its momentum. With the help of Kenjaev, he closed down a number of newspaper 44 For information on the ziois in the 1990s, see Muhammadjon Shakuri, Istiqlol va Khudshinosii Ijtimo’ivo Ma’navi (Dushanbe: no publisher, 1999), 37–39. 45 Cf. Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 32. 46 It was a tradition for the head of the Supreme Soviet to be from Gharm, the head of government from Khujand, the chief religious personality from Hisor, and the Minister of Interior Affairs from Badakhshan. There were variations, of course, but the tradition was always followed. Cf. Sohibnazar, Subh, 93.

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offices and arrested and imprisoned many progressive, open-minded people. He made it clear to everyone in the republic that his government intended to go as far as necessary to eradicate anti-communist forces in the republic. Communist forces had accomplished that task through force many times before and Nabiev was not averse to repeat the process. The opposition looked for an opening to rise against Nabiev and Kenjaev in a legal battle. The following episode provided a legitimate excuse. On March 25, 1992, in an open session of the Supreme Soviet, Kenjaev, apparently prompted by Nabiev, accused Navjuvonov, the Head of the MIA, of distributing government cars among his relatives. The unusual thing was that the entire process was televised. As a result, Navjuvonov was humbled before the Tajiks, Badakhshanis in particular, and was nearly dismissed from his position.

THE CONFRONTATION BEGINS The next morning, many Pamiris gathered in front of the Central Committee of the CPT, also referred to as the president’s office building, and demanded an apology. According to Kenjaev, Dustov talked to them and convinced them to end their demonstration and go back to their homes. They did as they were told, but on March 27, again according to Kenjaev, a second group appeared in the same place. Unlike the previous group, this one was led by a number of prominent opposition figures, including Shodmon Yusuf, head of the Democrat Party; Muhammadsharif Himmatzoda, head of the IRPT; Davlati Ismon, Himmatzoda’s assistant; Haji Akbar Turajonzoda, chief Judge of the Republic; Tohir Abdujabbor, head of Rastokhiz People’s Movement; and Amirbek Atobek, head of La’li Badakhshon People’s Movement. The group set up loudspeakers in the square and addressed the crowd.47 Before describing the well-known confrontation between the government and those gathering in front of the Central Committee building (hence referred to as Shahidon square), let us identify the players and find out why they were gathering there. More importantly, what would be the consequences of their staying in the square for a relatively long time? What would their stay mean for a republic that had agriculture as the mainstay of its economy? In reality, a republic that had capitalized nearly seventy years of its people’s labor in cotton farming with the hope of building a progressive, functional society. 47 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 29.

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Within a short time after they appeared in the square, it became obvious that the crowd had not come to the square just to voice an opinion and leave. As the names and the party affiliation of the leaders indicate, they had an agenda. Indeed, they were there to put that agenda into action. The leaders, like the people in the crowd, belonged to a mix of radical Hanafi Muslims, Wahhabis, and disenchanted Soviet Tajiks pinning their hope on democracy. They were responding to the call of their religious leaders, who themselves were controlled by various parties and movements, some allegedly by foreign powers. Recall the structure of the RPCT, especially the role that the Tajiks played in its organization and operation. On the surface, their role was miniscule. As a body of workers, however, the complex could not operate without their active participation. Departure of large numbers of those low-level workers from various work stations was likely to slow down or, altogether, stop work at all those complexes. If the absence was for a long period of time, it meant total shut down of all operations, because raw materials for the plants and factories to work with would not be available. In other words, those who had orchestrated the appearance of that crowd in the square were fully aware what their actions meant to the Supreme Soviet, the president, and the whole country. It was therefore the responsibility of the government authorities to return those groups to normal life as soon as possible. In contrast, the leaders of the crowd intended to keep them in the square until government paralysis set in and Nabiev became forced to seek their advice, a process that would end in his downfall. It was with that future in mind that the leaders of the gathering, at times, behaved in unexpected ways (such as forming army units out of people in the square). As a part of their fact-finding mission, Kenjaev and Dustov talked to four of the leaders to find out the reason for their appearance in the square. They were told that the Navjuvonov issue was not related in any way with their demands. They complained that the session of the Supreme Soviet, held on March 25, 1992, was originally scheduled for April 12, 1992.48 The government, in spite of knowing that Navjuvonov played a major role in the Ramadan Id celebration, had planned to dismiss him in order to ruin the celebration. It was for that reason, they said, that they demanded to see the president. In reality, however, the Navjuvonov affair and the Id celebration served the same objective: they were excuses for the opposition to challenge the legitimacy of Nabiev’s government and derail it before it began operation. The 48 Ibid., 29.

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government’s treatment of Navjuvonov and its treatment of the Badakhshanis the next day prompted the opposition to transform a social protest into a religious dispute and use that dispute to confront the government. The demands of the group were not always the same. Depending on their assessment of the possibilities for reaching their political end, their demands changed.49 They increased, however, when the citizens of Dushanbe, and indeed the republic as a whole, reacted to the government’s anti-constitutional behavior. When the government did not act decisively, the group created a national guard under the cleric Qiyomuddin and assigned military ranks to various individuals.50 Nabiev’s government followed the old Soviet blueprint, exactly as Mahkamov’s government had done. Realizing that Nabiev intended no reforms, the opposition closed Rudaki and Potovsky streets to transportation and began to harass the Kulobi and Leninabadi citizens of Dushanbe. Then the first minor cracks appeared in the government’s shield. Nabiev, as usual, played the old man who could not be easily moved by events.51 Mirzoev, who normally attended to issues related to security, took sick and only handled urgent matters from his hospital bed. That left Dustov and Kenjaev to deal with the increasingly difficult situation on their own. One of the major demands of the opposition was to activate the strict rules that the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet had passed against those who had abused their office and who owned shares in major companies.52 Other demands came from various sectors. As a result, the opposition, trying to listen to those demands, often changed its conditions regarding the evacuation of the square. At the beginning of the sit-in, the opposition wanted the parliament to be disbanded. No one, not even the president, had the right to do that. Then, even though they did not have any credible reason, the opposition asked for the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet to be disbanded.53 When two major figures of the government, Nasriddinov and Ashurov, announced that they might resign, an emboldened opposition asked that a general meeting should be held.54 On August 11, 1992, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet met. The agenda included writing a new constitution; assessing the political, social, and 49 50 51 52 53 54

Ibid., 19–20. Ibid., 30–31. Ibid., 32. Ibid., 33. Ibid., 34. Ibid., 35.

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economic situation of Tajikistan; and responding to the opposition’s demand regarding the disbanding of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet. But the meeting could not proceed. The opposition leaders failed to honor their word: they did not stop the gathering in Shahidon and did not withdraw their demand for the resignation of the Parliament and the Presidium so that the discussions could proceed.55 Every day, more people, either due to intimidation, or through payment by the Qoziyyot, joined the Shahidon protesting group. This included citizens and clerics from outside Dushanbe. Some contributed funds. At some point, a rumor started indicating that a “shadow” government ruled from within the current Tajik government. As for the members of the government, some were incapacitated, while others were joining the opposition in large numbers. In short, the opposition began to take over governmental positions and government offices. Sadly, the government authorities acted as if they were not responsible for keeping the government safe.56 That was the situation at the republic level. At the city level, affairs were not different. The Mayor had lost control. His subordinates were either joining the opposition, or declaring neutrality.57 At this point, demand for the resignation of the head of the Supreme Soviet, Safarali Kenjaev, appeared for the first time and became the focal point. Without any expressed reason, he was identified as the major culprit for all the shortages in the republic. For example, the accusations stated that the kolkhoz workers had not received their salaries for six months, that the cost of living was high, and that there was a lack of bread, sugar, flour, meat, and shoes. Technically, battling shortages was the responsibility of the government rather than the Supreme Soviet, a legislative body, was not given any weight. Rumor became fact when the accounts of shortages were broadcast republic-wide on radio and television, without any mention of the atrocities committed by the opposition.58

DESPERATE MOVE As days went by, the situation in Dushanbe became precarious and, gradually, paralysis set in. Out of desperation, Narzullo Dustov met with the various 55 56 57 58

Ibid., 35. Ibid., 35. Ibid., 36. Ibid., 36.

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officials responsible for law and order and expressed concern that the Islamic militia might try to take over the government. The generals—Rahmonov, Niozov, and Mahmadov—were not moved. They intimated that their hands were tied. Major-General Martovitskii distinguished himself from the rest by stating that the border guards were not allowed to interfere in internal affairs. General Qahhorov, assistant to the Head of the MIA, and A. Rajabov, executive manager of the MIA, also did nothing. Their employees, they said, were from Badakhshan and Qurghonteppa, respectively. That meant, according to the jargon of the time, that they, most likely, already supported the opposition.59 When the news of this meeting reached the opposition leaders, they intensified their pressure on the government. Like his officials, the president, too, remained neutral despite the opposition’s insistence and refrained from issuing any orders. The Supreme Soviet was also left up in the air.60 Twenty-nine days into the sit-in, Kenjaev met several times with Akbar Turajonzoda, Said Abdullo Nuri, Davlati Ismon, Hoji Said Qiyomuddin, Shodmon Yusuf, Safar Abdullo, and Abdunabi Sattorov. He asked them expressly to accompany him to the gathering so that he could explain the government’s position. They agreed to do so on one condition: that Kenjaev denounced Nabiev and demanded his resignation. His reward for that would be that he would retain his position and his dignity. Kenjaev declined.61 Failing to convince Kenjaev to denounce Nabiev, the opposition directed its attention to Nabiev. Kenjaev and Dustov might be staunch Nabiev supporters, but Nabiev could not be expected to hold on to them strongly, if he were promised that no harm would come to his presidency and himself. Before long, the president arranged a meeting to review the demands of the opposition. The leaders of the opposition gave written promise that they would not interfere with the work of the meeting and that they would turn the loudspeakers in the square off.62 The meeting of the Supreme Soviet was held on April 20, 1992, with the following agenda: 1. the president’s report about the socio-political and economic state of the republic; 2. the resignation of the head of the Supreme Soviet, Safarali Kenjaev; 59 60 61 62

Ibid., 41–42. Ibid., 42–43. Ibid., 43. Ibid., 44.

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3. the addition of opposition representatives: S. Qahhorov, Akbar Turajonzoda, Asliddin Sohibnazar, and Saifiddin Turaev to the membership of the Supreme Soviet; 4. abolition of constitutional restrictions on marches and gatherings.63 All items, except for Kenjaev’s resignation, were accepted with a simple raising of hands. On Kenjaev’s resignation, the opposition asked for a formal secret vote. The result of the vote was 59 (dismiss) versus 131 (retain).64 Disappointed with the outcome of the vote, the opposition leaders Shodmon Yusuf, Davlati Ismon, and Muhammadsharif Himmatzoda left the hall. Some 30 to 35 minutes later, the crowd in Shahidon moved on the parliament and, after some struggle, abducted seventeen representatives and two vice-ministers (Kh. Saidmurodov and S. Khairulloev). Davlati Ismon was left in charge of the hostages.65 Kenjaev and Dustov tried unsuccessfully to convince Ismon to set the deputies and the vice-ministers free. He would release them, Ismon said, on condition that Kenjaev should tender his resignation right there and then. When Kenjaev and Dustov were leaving, news reached Ismon that the opposition’s deal with the president had born fruit and that the president had dismissed Kenjaev. The next day, Kenjaev tendered his resignation from the chairmanship of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan.66 On April 24, 1992, Nabiev replaced Stroybin, the head of the Security Committee of the republic with Kenjaev. A few days later, Kenjaev was replaced with Rizo Tursunov. During the short period that he was Major General, Kenjaev reviewed some of the files that carried the label “agents.” The files belonged to Mirbobo Mirrahim, Tohir Abdujabbor, Haji Akbar Turajonzoda, Dustmuhammad Dust, Muhammadsharif Himmatzoda, Said Abdullo Nuri, Davlati Ismon, and several others. Each file contained 350–400 pages. Kenjaev paid special attention to two files, which belonged to Turajonzoda, also referred to as “Abdukarim,” and Tohir Abdujabbor.67 He immediately let Nabiev and Dustov know the contents of the files that he had reviewed.68 On the same day, April 24, state television announced the report of the dismissal of Kenjaev by the Supreme Soviet. During the report, the television 63 64 65 66 67 68

For items 5–8, ibid., 44–45. Ibid., 44–45. Ibid., 45–46. Ibid., 49–52. Ibid., 52–54. Ibid., 53.

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camera caught a glimpse of Turajonzoda and Iskandarov69 exchanging a wink, indicating their victory over Kenjaev (and Nabiev). The episode disturbed the communists immensely. People in Kulob, Leninabad, Yovon district, Hisor, Shahrnav, Tursunzoda, Lenin and Varzob, Faizabad and Kofarnihon were shocked. In order to express their unhappiness with the situation in the Supreme Soviet, they came to Dushanbe in droves. They intended to occupy the square in front of the Supreme Soviet and demand that Kenjaev should be reinstated and that S. Turaev, A. Sohibnazar, and A. Turajonzoda should be expelled from the Supreme Soviet. Similarly, those who had abducted the representatives and the vice-ministers should be brought to trial. Their activity caused law and order in cities and districts, especially in the south, to break down, so that people took the law into their own hands. Communists forced the radical Muslims who lived among them out of their homes and out of the regions. The members of the Democratic Party were similarly affected. Then, on April 25, 1992, the supporters of communism and the Soviet constitution occupied the square in front of the Supreme Soviet and renamed it Freedom (Ozodi) square.70 Calling the crowd in the Ozodi square godless communists, the Shahidon organizers, Qur’ans in hand, moved their supporters from houses and mosques to the Shahidon square. They alleged that those gathered in Ozodi square intended to destroy Islam, imprison the clergy, and kill the learned men of the faith. In other words, they were preparing the population for civil war. In contrast, Kenjaev advised the people in Ozodi square to stay calm. Iskandarov, who had replaced Kenjaev, announced that the Supreme Soviet would next meet on April 28, 1992.71

SELF-INFLICTED WOUNDS On April 28, 1992, Nabiev addressed the crowd in the Ozodi square and told them that he sympathized with them. Following that he announced that he was about to order the establishment of a national guard. Then, on May 2, 1992, Kenjaev and Dustov distributed arms among the Ozodi participants, ostensibly a counter measure against the possibility that the opposition might arm its members. 69 For Iskandarov’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 131–132. 70 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 53–54. 71 Ibid., 55.

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In a meeting in which Nabiev, Kenjaev, Turajonzoda, and some opposition leaders participated, it was decided that the Ozodi people would leave the square that night and that the Shahidon people would follow the next morning. The main discussion, however, was focused on the removal of Kenjaev from his new position. Turajonzoda addressed the president as follows. Your Excellency, Rahmon Nabiev. You yourself are the main cause of the disturbances in the republic. The Communist Party has made a liar out of you. You have created division among the people. I remind you about what you said to me about Safarali Kenjaev a long time before these gatherings came into existence. Didn’t you, in your office, tell me that Kenjaev does not comprehend affairs, that he does not follow orders, and that he is stubborn (takrav)? Didn’t you say that, as soon as possible, you would remove Kenjaev from his position and send him as an ambassador to some place? Didn’t you tell me not to say anything about that to Kenjaev? Why is it then, that at this juncture, suddenly you are identifying the opposition as the cause for your removal of Kenjaev from his position?72

Sohibnazar confirms Turajonzoda’s remarks when he says Nabiev never supported Kenjaev. He had a very low opinion of him as a politician.73 Then he asks rhetorically, why, for such a long time, Nabiev did not react to the demands of the people?74 In fact, he goes as far as saying Nabiev deceived Kenjaev to question Navjuvonov so that he could force them both to leave the scene.75 This statement indicates that the opposition’s strategy to refocus its efforts from Kenjaev to Nabiev had been effective and that it had successfully undermined Nabiev’s shaky confidence in Kenjaev. To what degree the opposition had been able to undermine Nabiev’s confidence in Dustov remains to be seen. Neither the crowd in Ozodi, nor the one in Shahidon, vacated the squares. During the six days that followed, the numbers in both squares increased dramatically. The opposition took over the president’s office, and the offices of the cabinet of ministers.76 They even took possession of the Tajik television studio. But neither the Prime Minister, nor the head of the Supreme Soviet reacted to

72 Ibid., 57. 73 Sohibnazar, Subh, 26. 74 Ibid., 28. 75 Ibid., 23. 76 Hetmanek, “Islamic Revolution,” 368.

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this aggressive move, and the president remained silent.77 As a result of those actions and, more importantly, lack of any counteraction, the government collapsed78and the city of Dushanbe sank into chaos and fear. On May 4, 1992, the pro-communists, who had assembled in Ozodi square, demanded that Kenjaev should be reinstated as the chairman of the Supreme Soviet. In the Presidium, Kenjaev requested permission to meet with the Ozodi protestors and explain his situation to them, but his request was denied.79 In the Supreme Soviet session, he spoke three times trying to forge a response to convince the Ozodi protestors to leave the square. Kenjaev offered three alternatives: first, to discuss the matter in the next session; second, to remove it from the agenda; and third, to amend article 109 of the Constitution so that in December, along with the electing members of parliament, people would elect the chairman of the Supreme Soviet as well. These suggestions were put to a vote.80 The representatives tabled the first, supported the second, and rejected the third proposition. Moved by A. Habibov, and supported by Haidarsho Akbarov, a formal vote on Kenjaev’s returning to the chairmanship of the Supreme Soviet was taken. The vote was almost unanimous—only two representatives voted against this decision.81 Kenjaev then formed a propaganda group comprised of Badakhshani youths and commissioned it to advise their fellow young men and women to become familiar with the state of affairs in the republic. More importantly, to prevent them from listening to the lies of the opposition against their own people and, most importantly, not to join the opposition. Kenjaev also met with the members of the Writer’s Union and chose Otakhon Latifi and Muhammadjon Shokurov82 to talk to the leaders of the opposition and convince them that they should put an end to the killing of their own fellow countrymen.83 All that time, the bodies of people who had been killed in and around Dushanbe were being brought to Ozodi square agitating the people. Mullohaidar Sharifzoda, Sangak Safarov,84 Rustam Abdurahimov, Muharrama Mirzoalieva, and others

77 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 63. 78 Ibid., 59. 79 Ibid., 76. 80 Ibid., 79. 81 Ibid., 83. 82 For Shokurov’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 326–327. 83 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 84–85. 84 For Safarov’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 299–300; Khatloni and Istaravshani, Tufon, 37–40, passim.

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took it upon themselves to sympathize with the crowd and calm it down.85 All in all, the situation was grave. People were being killed in the Yovon and Lenin regions. Nabiev was nowhere to be found, and his office was taken over by the opposition. In reality, he worked from an office in the building of the Supreme Soviet. On top of leadership crisis and hooliganism, Murodullo Sheralizoda, a reporter of Sadoi Mardum, was killed.86 On May 5, 1992, Major-General Rahmonov left the side of the government and joined the opposition. He also took with him 450 Kalashnikov rifles, more than 26,000 bullets, four tanks, and other weapons.87 That evening, opposition leaders Davlat Khudonazarov and Davlati Ismon entered the inner sanctum of the presidential building and ordered that all the ammunition and weaponry should be moved from the presidential building to the opposition headquarters that same night. Under the prevailing circumstances, Dushanbe entered its worst days yet.88 Now both squares had access to weapons. In fact, many of the members on both sides were armed. The fear that civil war might break out was palpable. The opposition made an attempt to capture the Oktiober militia center but failed. Ignoring the failure, it attacked the Kofarnihon branch of the MIA and captured 750 machine guns (avtomat), 180 revolvers, and ten vehicles.89 The weapons were distributed among the opposition members. As for the government, it was utterly helpless. It could not even provide drivers to mobilize the thirty-seven tanks that it had recently purchased. They were parked in the Qarotegin army headquarters waiting for drivers.90 Helped by officers who operated from within the government, the opposition captured the airport, closed the railroad, and blockaded the entrance to Dushanbe. The MIA, responsible for security of the airport, was overwhelmed. Its employees merely watched the takeover.91 The opposition then formed an armed group of 100 to 150 members and sent them to key positions in, and outside, Dushanbe. The atrocities that this group committed resulted in many casualties and deaths. Throughout all those exchanges, President Nabiev remained indecisive. He refused to either announce an extraordinary situation, or set a time for 85 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 92. 86 Ibid., 91–92. 87 Ibid., 64. 88 Ibid., 65–66. 89 Ibid., 69. 90 Ibid., 69. 91 Ibid., 74.

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curfew, as he was of the opinion that the whole matter could be resolved through mutual agreement. Unfortunately for the republic, the staff around the president also shared his opinion. But they were all wrong.92 The opposition took control of Dushanbe and the surrounding areas. The indecisiveness was a new feature in Nabiev’s career. Before being installed as president, when he was vice-minister, and later as the Minister of Interior Affairs, Nabiev was a decisive individual.93 Now, even for orders which he could issue independently, he consulted others and secured their signature. The order to declare an emergency situation and the announcement of curfew were obtained only after long consultations. After those decisions were reached, Nabiev was not sure who should enforce the curfew, in spite of the fact that according to the constitution, this right would automatically go to the head of the MIA.94 The history of the gathering in the Shahidon square goes back some fifteen years, when the Islamist faction began to collect foreign weapons and stash them in their homes and mosques. It was obvious and, therefore, expected that one day these weapons would be used, but that did not happen. The opposition leaders were astute and experienced. They allowed themselves and their operatives time to infiltrate the MIA, and bring its head, Mamadayoz ­Navjuvonov, under their control. As their inside operator, Navjuvonov committed activities that persuaded the other organs of the government, like the Supreme Soviet, to question the legality of his actions. Rajabov, the officer next in line to become the head of the MIA, paved the way for the opposition so that it could set ­Kenjaev up for dismissal.95 An examination of the books in the MIA indicated that 139 Ministry vehicles had been sold to the public sector at low prices, leaving MIA members with inadequate transportation. As for Navjuvonov himself, he had three houses, two dachas, a privately owned three-story house, and many more amenities.96 When the government warned Navjuvonov that it had received information about his illegal activities and asked him to step down quietly, he had refused. The opposition controlling him would not allow it. Consequently, he was brought to trial in the Supreme Soviet and the trial proceedings were televised.97 92 93 94 95 96 97

Ibid., 74–76. Ibid., 108. Ibid., 98–99. Ibid., 105. Ibid., 100–102. Ibid., 102–103.

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At the time, there was a debate regarding who knew about the trial prior to the television broadcast. Some claimed that even Navjuvonov, the culprit, was unaware of the impending trial.98 Others said that all those who needed to know about the trial, including the president, were apprised of it.99 It was concluded, somebody should have known about it to contact the media to document the unusual event.100 It is interesting to note that, even though they should have been present that day, Dustov and Mirzoev had absented themselves from the Supreme Soviet meeting. On the eve of the event, Dustov went to Shahrtus on some business and Mirzoev took sick. Additionally, after the trial, Navjuvonov took sick, went home, and tendered his resignation. Nabiev refused to sign the resignation document.101 He feared that the opposition might react violently. All of that left Kenjaev with some disturbing questions. Why were all whom he considered his supporters in the government absent from the meeting? Why did Nabiev ask Kenjaev to bring Navjuvonov to trial in the first place and why was Nabiev himself not present at the meeting?102 Over the last few months before Navjuvonov’s show trial, the opposition influenced Nabiev, Navjuvonov, Mirzoev, and Rajabov, each in a particular way. We talked briefly about Navjuvonov’s gains as a result of his cooperating with the opposition. Mirzoev’s words and actions indicated his degree of insincerity. In his speeches, for instance, he enumerated the shortcomings of the Supreme Soviet and its chair, but he never criticized either the cabinet of ministers, or the president, or the opposition. Then, at a very crucial time, when his signature was needed, he tendered his resignation. The question is, why did not Nabiev pay attention to the activities of the likes of Navjuvonov and Mirzoev?103 Did he choose to ignore them? The fact is that Nabiev was not in control. For instance, he appointed Muhammadjonov as the Curfew Commander. Similarly, he assigned Qahhorov and Rajabov to remove the opposition from the Shahidon square, take the radio and television studio back from the opposition, and restore order.104 None of those officials

  98 Epkenhans, Origins, 223.   99 For a full discussion of the proceedings, see Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 104. 100 Ibid., 104, ff. 101 Ibid., 109–105. 102 Ibid., 105; cf. Sohibnazar, Sobh, 22. 103 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 107–108. 104 Ibid., 109–110.

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carried out his orders. Everything pointed to the fact that Nabiev had lost authority over his subordinates. When the situation deteriorated enough that he felt he no longer could deal with it, Nabiev decided to discuss the problem with the president of the Russian Federation Boris Yeltsin. He intended to convince Yeltsin that the 201st Russian Rifle Division should be allowed to protect the assets of the government in Dushanbe. Yeltsin did not meet with Nabiev. Instead, he referred the matter to the division commander. The division commander refused to cooperate with Nabiev. At this juncture, Nabiev could have taken the responsibility and mobilized the 201st Russian Rifle Division on his own authority, but he demurred. Sohibnazar criticizes Nabiev’s actions, especially this one. He says Nabiev could have prevented the difficulties of February 1990 and September 1991 if he had taken over the 201st Russian Rifle Division.105 As a last resort, Nabiev contacted the MIA, but there was no one at the ministry to take his call. As for the Prime Minister, he was in a meeting with the leaders of the opposition, especially Davlat Khudonazarov. Nabiev wondered about the subject of discussion between the Prime Minister and the leaders of the opposition. More importantly, he wondered why the Prime Minister had not consulted with him.106 President Nabiev’s helplessness became apparent in a meeting to which the Prime Minister, his vice-minister, other ministers, even some members of the president’s own consultative committee had been invited, but did not show up. The only ones present were Vice-President Dustov, head of the Supreme Soviet Safarali Kenjaev, and some staff members who had remained in the Parliament to take care of last-minute business.107

THE OPPOSITION TRIUMPHS Once again, on May 6, 1992, there were explosions in the capital and several people were wounded. While the ex-terrorist Bakhtior Beloyusov had been apprehended and turned into the authorities, others were free in the city and the countryside. Unbeknownst to Kenjaev and Dustov, the Prime Minister and the vice-ministers had prepared an agreement regarding the shape of the immediate future of the government of Tajikistan to be signed by the president. The agreement was between the government and the opposition. 105 Sohibnazar, Subh, 22. 106 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 120–124. 107 Ibid., 125–128.

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Kenjaev and Dustov, who also thus far had been kept in the dark, accidentally arrived at the place where the document was being signed. Upon realizing what was transpiring, they questioned the legality of the document. They were told that the situation was beyond matters of legality. Additionally, they were told that because they were present at the signing of the document, they should sign it as well. Regarding legality, the answer was simple. The supporters of signing the document argued that giving in to the opposition was the only avenue left open. The leaders in the squares, they said, needed the document in order to convince the protestors to leave the squares safely. Protocol Agreement between the president, the Cabinet of Ministers, political parties, organizations, and movements of the people of Tajikistan, signed by: on behalf of the government, 1. R. Nabiev

President of the Republic

2. S. Kenjaev

Chairman of the Supreme Soviet

3. N. Dustov

Vice-President

4. A. Mirzoev

Prime Minister

5. Kh. Saidmurodov

Vice-Minister

6. S. Khairulloev

Vice-Minister

7. I. Davlatov

Member of Cabinet of Ministers

8. Sh. Khairolloev

Assistant to the Minister of Interior Affairs

9. D. Nazirov

Assistant to the Prime Minister

on behalf of those in the Shahidon square and the political parties, 1. M. Himmatzoda

Head of the Islamic Renaissance Party

2. Sh. Yusufov

Head of the Democratic Party

3. T. Abdujabbarov

Head of the Rastokhiz People’s Movement

4. D. Khudonazarov

Head of the Union of Cinematographers

5. A. Amirbekov

Head of the La’li Badakhshon Organization

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Member of Academy of Sciences of the Republic of Tajikistan Reporter

3. Loiq Shirali 4. R. Rahimov

Poet Academic

This Protocol was signed on May 7, 1992, in Dushanbe, and contains the following articles: Being responsible for the security of the republic, the president, in order to prevent a political crisis and to establish peace and freedom, and in view of the demands of the political parties and people’s movements, decrees: I.

Taking the structure of the political, national, and religious forces into account, a government of national reconciliation with far-reaching rights and executive power should be established. The said government will act according to the following principles: 1) No use of force. Firstly, the government of national reconciliation will not use weapons to disband the gatherings and, secondly, it will not prosecute the participants in the squares on criminal charges, national affiliation, or in any discriminatory manner. The following is a quick solution for enacting that principle: a) An immediate cease fire should be declared between the two forces. b) The president’s order regarding the formation of a special force should be cancelled. c) All the opposing forces should be disarmed without any questions asked. d) The siege on the airport and the train station should be lifted. e) The president’s palace, the offices of the cabinet of ministers, as well as the television studio should be vacated. 2) Preparations should be made for the establishment of a national, constitutional, democratic government, which does not interfere in the affairs of the Qoziyyot. Accordingly, the Qoziyyot should not interfere in the affairs of the government. 3) Legal and active participation of all parties and popular movements in social affairs. The ban on political parties, as long as their activities are within the law, should be lifted.

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4) Provision of coexistence among all the peoples of the Republic irrespective of ethnicity, religion, and so forth. 5) Provision of freedom of speech, media, including the television, as well as Sado va Simo, that will be recognized as a free forum. II The present presidential system of government that has not been responding effectively to the needs of the republic should be replaced by a supreme consultative assembly, consisting of governmental, scientific, cultural, and respected individual representatives. The assembly will work under the supervision of a president and a government of national reconciliation. III. The National Security Committee, the Defense Committee, and the Sado va Simo Committee will be under the auspices of the GNR. IV. Due to the volatile political situation obtaining, N. Dustov, F. Niozov, and A. Saifulloev should resign their positions effective immediately. The cases of N. Huvaidulloev and S. Kenjaev should be relegated to the meeting of the Supreme Soviet.108 V. Upon signing this protocol, the GNR and the heads of the political parties and People’s movements, will resolve the following issues: 1) Finding a solution for disbanding the protestors in both squares. 2) Suspension of all gatherings until the end of 1992 (except for those that occur before elections). Note: articles a, b, c, d, and e are to be carried out at the same time as the signing of the protocol.109 This victory by the opposition weakened the positions of both Nabiev and N. Huvaidulloev, the Attorney General of Tajikistan.110 On May 7, 1992, the Ozodi square participants stopped their meeting. Davlat Khudonazarov and Ishon Qiyomuddin accompanied the protestors to Kulob. The participants did not give up the guns that the president had handed out and took the

108 For Huvaidulloev’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 121–122 109 Karim, Fariod, 427–429 110 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 42.

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weapons with them to Kulob. May 10, 1992, was set as the deadline for returning the guns to the government.111 After the establishment of the GNR, N. Dustov, F. Niozov, and A. Saifulloev resigned.112 The president’s special battalion, too, was disbanded. There were also two arrests in the Ozodi square: Rustam Abdurahimov, the chair of the Kulob Oshkoro Organization and Sangak Safarov, a cook turned activist with a twenty-three-year record of incarceration. Although the crowd in Ozodi left the square, the crowd in Shahidon lingered. On May 12, Rustam Abdurahimov and Sangak Safarov promised that they would help to disarm the crowd in Shahidon square, as well as promote reconciliation and peace, so the kidnappers released them. Additionally, the new chairman of the Supreme Soviet, Akbarsho Iskandarov, accepted the Protocol and pledged to support and implement it. The fate of Kenjaev, who did not have an active role in the establishment of the GNR, was left to be decided by the Supreme Soviet. Recognizing that the opposition had not honored its promise and that the Shahidon protestors were still in the square, the Ozodi protestors reacted from back in Kulob. On May 13, Kulob was in turmoil. Rustam Abdurahimov, Sangak Safarov, and Haidar Sharifzoda were unable to calm the angry crowd down. Besides, the turmoil went beyond the borders of Kulob. On May 13, the Tenth extraordinary session of the Soviet of the deputies of the Leninabad region (the Twelfth convocation) met in Khujand and discussed the political situation in the republic. Various leaders condemned the illegal actions of the opposition.113 They also regarded the actions of President Nabiev regarding the establishment of the GNR, and the Supreme Consultative Assembly, as well as the actions and statements of some of the leaders in the Supreme Soviet, illegal. Those issues, they thought, should be fully discussed in an appropriate meeting of the Supreme Soviet of the Republic, which should not be influenced or supervised by the leaders of the opposition. Among those who spoke in the session of the Soviet of the deputies of the Leninabad region was the people’s representative and Attorney General of Tajikistan, Nurullo Huvaidulloev. He admitted that there had been a coup d’état in the Republic. As a result, individuals who should have been brought to justice long ago now usurped the government and were at the helm. According to Huvaidulloev, both the Coalition Government and the National Parliament are established against the rules of the Republic’s Constitution. None of the 111 Karim, Fariod, 439. 112 Ibid., 426–427. 113 For detail see the notes of the session.

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representatives of Leninabad should be permitted to participate in it. Yet, the twelve-points agreement (qaror) issued by the session, did not address any illegal actions of the opposition.114 Sporadic reports began to pour in regarding the infringement by government officials and the Communist Party on the rights of the Muslims. For instance, on May 15, it was reported that over ten IRPT members had been killed, many more had been harassed and wounded and that the government and members of the Communist Party had set fire to many homes.115 By June the turmoil that had started in Kulob reached Vakhsh and Bokhtar ( June 13–14). The Kulobis took Qori Ibrohim of Kalininabad hostage. People assembled in front of the government center and demanded that Qori Ibrohim should be released. The incident plunged the whole Qurghonteppa region into lawlessness.116 Those who had received guns in the Ozodi gathering now could use their weapons against their neighbor or neighbors. For instance, on June 16, gunmen entered the city of Lomonosov, forced the population out of the city, shot bullets into the air, and scattered the people. Many left Lomonosov for other places never to return to their homes. On June 20, the GNR, headed by Akbarsho Iskandarov, along with Islamic and democratic forces, held a discussion session in the city of Qurghonteppa which, until that point, had been under siege by the forces of Sangak Safarov. As a result of the meeting, Sangak agreed to lift the siege and allow the city to return to normalcy.117 During that clash, Qurghonteppa, once a major industrial center in Tajikistan, lost much of the gains it made since the early 1930s. The rapid change of events, along with a lack of accurate information in the hands of ordinary people, brought about many confrontations that otherwise would have been resolved through mutual understanding. On June 21, for instance, there were many skirmishes between the troops of Sangak Safarov and factions opposing the activities of the GNR. Those small skirmishes soon led to larger conflicts. For instance, on June 27, in Vakhsh, thirty-four people were killed, eighteen were wounded, and sixty were taken hostage. Nabiev, almost completely powerless at this point, tried to use regionalism as a force against his opponents who had forced him into signing the protocol

114 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 293–294. 115 Karim, Fariod, 453. 116 Ibid., 465–466. 117 Ibid., 466–467.

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leading to the establishment of the GNR.118 He persuaded the chairman of the Democratic Party, Shodmon Yusuf, to establish Sitodi Najoti Vatan (Homeland Liberation Front). That strategy also backfired. As a result, not only many innocent people were killed, but the whole of Vakhshonzamin became involved in the turmoil.119 The war then moved to Kirov, Vioni, and Kuibyshev.120 After a meeting in Khorugh on July 26, the Fifteenth session of the Supreme Soviet was held on August 14, where the political situation in Tajikistan as a whole was discussed. Bloodshed continued in the Qurghonteppa region. N. Qurbonov, the head of the Executive Committee of Qurghonteppa requested that a curfew be imposed in both Qurghonteppa and Kalininabad, but no one paid any attention to him. At this point, each representative was looking after his own individual interest. Nabiev even tried to fault others, especially those who opposed him, for his own shortcomings. However, it was clear in the meeting that Nabiev had lost all his prestige. The deputy Sharifov even referred to him, in a derogatory manner, as Mr. Chub (wood). “Those who elected Mr. Chub,” he said, “should now obey him.”121 Although Huvaidulloev’s name had been included in the agenda of the Fifteenth Supreme Soviet as a representative to be asked to resign, the opposition did not bring his name up. This made Kenjaev wonder. He called Huvaidulloev from Anzob, where he had started to work as a regular miner, and shared his fears with him. Huvaidulloev informed Kenjaev that recently four armed men had visited his office and ordered him to resign. Apparently, Huvaidulloev was on the watch-list of the Badakhshanis and that they were watching him very closely. Huvaidulloev claimed that he had had to curtail his activities and stayed home most of the time. The opposition had created a terrorist group in the Romit gorge of the Kofarnihon region.122 The members of the group were armed with the newest weapons and were paid for every act. The terrorists did not ask either who was being killed or for what crime he was being killed. All that mattered to them was that they receive their payment upon the termination of their contract. In hindsight, all this must have been preparation for the murder of Huvaidulloev.123 118 Aleksei Malashenko and Vladimir Malashenko, “Proigralo li religioznoe dvizhenie v Tadzhikistane?” Nezavisimaia Gazeta, January 2, 1992. 119 Adolat, 26, no. 38 (1992); Khatloni and Istaravshani, Tufon, 35. 120 Ibid., 35. 121 Karim, Fariod, 501. 122 See list of names in Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 76. 123 Ibid., 72–104; for Huvaidulloev’s life see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 121–122.

End of an Era

On August 24, 1992, Nurullo Huvaidulloev and his driver were gunned down in Dushanbe in front of his house. Huvaidulloev was born in Ponghoz, Asht, in 1940. He graduated from the Department of Law of Tajik State University and, in 1989 became the head of the enforcement division of the Central Committee of the CPT. In 1990, the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan appointed Huvaidulloev as the People’s Representative and Head of the Consultative Committee of the republic dealing with legislation. In 1991, he became the Attorney General of the republic. Huvaidulloev was well known for his arrest and imprisonment of the Mayor of Dushanbe, Maqsud Ikromov, on charges of embezzlement and illegal use of public property. In spite of his impeccable record, due to his opposition to the establishment of the GNR and the National Consultative Assembly, Nabiev had dismissed him.124 The GNR was accused of his murder. In Ponghoz, all the mosques and places of worship were closed. Huvaidulloev’s murder was a watershed in the relationship between the opposition and the GNR. Using Navjuvonov, the opposition, led by the IRPT, had succeeded in bringing about the dismissal of Dustov and Kenjaev. Huvaidulloev was the next hurdle. The opposition did not like Huvaidulloev because he was not only knowledgeable about the law, but abided by it. Besides, he was very truthful in his statements to the president. With him eliminated, Nabiev did not have anyone that he could turn to for support. In this way, after the elimination of Huvaidulloev, the president himself became expendable. He could be forced to resign. In that case, the opposition leaders could take full control of the affairs of government and the opposition could carry out its master plan: the implementation of Shari’a law. Nabiev undermined his own presidency: he inspired Kenjaev’s resignation from the position of the head of the Supreme Soviet, dismissed Dustov without cause, and tolerated the murder of Huvaidulloev. As a result, he had to singlehandedly deflect barbs form the Qoziyyot, the Supreme Soviet, the various parties and movements, and the population at large. The fact that he himself had armed all the factions acerbated the agony.125 On August 28, refugees from Kulob, Qurghonteppa, and Dushanbe gathered in front of the office of the president and informed him that armed groups from Kulob and Qurghonteppa had invaded Vakhshonzamin. They demanded that the president force the invaders to return to their homes. The population 124 Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 121–122. 125 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 62–64.

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held the president responsible for the situation in the south because he had provided arms to thousands of inexperienced young people. The crowd in front of his office threatened that if the people armed by the president did not leave, the citizens would form their own militia groups and hurry to the aid of their Vakhshonzamin brethren. In addition, they said, if they did not hear from the president in three days, they would no longer respect him or carry out his orders. Nabiev did not have any answer for them. He took the only option left: through a back door, he fled from his office in the Supreme Soviet building to the headquarters of the 201st Russian Rifle Division. The armed groups, headed by Mullo Abdughaffor, entered the parliament and took thirty-two deputies, ministers, and high-ranking officials, including Jamshid Karimov,126 hostage.127 August was a month of sorrow for the people of Vakhshonzamin. Hundreds of people were reported missing and thousands had fled from their homes. Weapons were changing hands with ease. There were reports that as many as 10,000 to 15,000 guns were in peoples’ hands. Huvaidulloev and Turaev’s efforts to disarm the people had made little impact.128 So far, Turajonzoda had insisted that Nabiev, as the mainstay of law and order in the republic, should stay, while expendable pieces such as Kenjaev, Dustov, and Huvaidulloev should leave the scene after they play out their parts. By August 28, Nabiev had become, rather than an asset, a liability that Turajonzoda could no longer support. Since the opposition felt strongly enough that it could take the reins of power in its hands, the fate of Nabiev’s presidency, too, was sealed. Nearly one year after the achievement of independence (September 1), the Supreme Soviet, and the government (that is, the cabinet of ministers of Tajikistan) issued a notice regarding their lack of confidence in the presidency of Rahmon Nabiev. The notice included the following points: 1. inability to follow the decree of the Fifteenth session and stop the war; 2. inability to restore socio-political and economic well-being; 3. inability to network with international partners, establish trade relations and security; 4. inability to depend on the Tajik people for his own security rather than seek protection from Russia; 126 For Jamshidov’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 150–151. 127 Abdullaev and Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary, 109. 128 Karim, Fariod, 502.

End of an Era

5. inability to unite the many factions in the republic and make the country whole.129 After Kenjaev left the Supreme Soviet for good, Akbarsho Iskandarov took over his role. As a first step, Iskandarov, a Badakhshani, established “the Republic of Badakhshan,” and ordered the establishment of a “National” Guard with full specifications for it.130 In the rest of the republic, as law and order broke down, elected officials, including the president, became targets for retirement and elimination. The fact that the president of Tajikistan and his assistant were elected by the people did not carry any weight. The same was true for the members of the Supreme Soviet and the Cabinet of Ministers.131 It became apparent now that a lack of attention to law and order at the top had caused the governmental structure around the president to fall apart and make the president vulnerable. Increasingly, the commander in chief found himself alone. He felt he was abandoned by all.132 No doubt, the president was not the only reason for the governmental system to be crippled. Akbarsho Iskandarov and his supporters in the ministries and other branches of government also shared some of the responsibility.133 In his Tabaddulot, Kenjaev presents comprehensive lists of people who left the government, an estimate of the amount of damage that their departure caused,134 and a list of people who were killed during the 1992 civil war.135 On September 1 and 2, Sangak Safarov and Langari Langariev came to Qurghonteppa and held a meeting. Sangak’s intention was to capture Qurghonteppa, put Kofarnihon through the sieve, and invade Dushanbe.136 But when he spoke to the crowd, he tried to create an atmosphere of friendship and cooperation. Two members of the opposition opposed him and one shot a bullet, which injured his hand. Sangak Safarov’s first attempt failed. Following that, a battle between the Wufchiks and the troops of Sangak Safarov and Langari Langariev ensued. The long battle was tough for Safarov and Langariev, but at the end, they were successful.137 129 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 132–134. 130 For details, especially the list of munitions provided, see ibid., 136–137. 131 Ibid., 137. 132 Ibid., 138. 133 Ibid., 139. 134 See ibid., 140. 135 The list is not reproduced here. See ibid., 142. 136 Karim, Fariod, 504. 137 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 146–147.

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Between September 2 and 4, the GNR eliminated the main officials at the top that had been affiliated with Nabiev. The lower-level officials were taken hostage and their properties were confiscated. In the process, the properties belonging to the presidency, too, were taken over by the opposition; they became opposition property. Additionally, opposition groups were armed, accompanied by trucks carrying weapons, and sent to Kulob and Qurghonteppa to fight Sangak Safarov.138 Kenjaev also provides a list of fighters who had contributed to the struggle against the opposition in the South since May 7, 1992.139 The Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet in Dushanbe, designed to end the presidency of Nabiev, failed. Sixty-six representatives from Leninabad and Kulob left the session. They indicated that the session should be postponed. They also indicated that in the future, the session should be held in a location other than the city of Dushanbe. This move saved Nabiev and the old government of the republic temporarily.140 On September 7, 1992, at 14:45, the young people from Dushanbe and those who had fled the atrocities in Kulob and Qurghonteppa were informed about Nabiev’s intent to escape from Dushanbe to Khujand. They hurried to the Dushanbe airport and, using several cars, blocked the runway. Nabiev, unaware of the events around him, left the VIP hall to ride the car that would take him to the plane. The sound of two rounds of bullets filled the air and the president, limping, returned to the building. Following that, three young people came to him and asked him to explain for how long the situation in the republic was going to be so chaotic. Representatives of the Supreme Soviet and the Cabinet of Ministers joined them and a long and serious discussion ensued. In the end, Nabiev became convinced that he lacked the capability to restore order and willingly, for the sake of preventing bloodshed and ending the civil war, resigned his position.141 The following is the agreement that put an end to Nabiev’s presidency. Agreement Between the President of the Republic of Tajikistan Rahmon Nabiev and the Representatives of the “Youth of Tajikistan” 138 139 140 141

For list, see ibid., 145. Ibid., 143. Ibid., 149–150. Charoghe Ruz, 58; Karim, Fariod, 507–508.

End of an Era Today, on September 7, 1992, at 15:30, in the reception hall of the Dushanbe airport, the Honorable Rahmon Nabiev and the representatives of the “Youth of Tajikistan” agreed to the following. 1. From this moment, the president of the Republic of Tajikistan Rahmon Nabiev, in the presence of the representatives of the “Youth of Tajikistan” and senior members of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan, willingly resigns his position as president. 2.  As a citizen of the Republic of Tajikistan, the president of the Republic of Tajikistan will exert every effort to stabilize the situation in the country. He promises not to engage in actions detrimental to the republic, either from within or from outside its borders. 3.  The “Youth of Tajikistan,” under the leadership of Ismat Habibulloev promises to contribute to peace and the tranquility of the city of Dushanbe. 4.  The representatives of the “Youth of Tajikistan,” under the leadership of Ruslan Muborakqadamov, accept the responsibility of safeguarding Rahmon Nabiev until the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet. 5.  Nabiev requests to retain his governmental distinctions after his retirement. The senior members of the Supreme Soviet and of the government of Tajikistan participated in the writing of this agreement. Signatures: Rahmon Nabiev, Ismat Habibulloev, Ruslan Muborakqadamov, Faiz Gulov, Pirmahmad Ali, Mahmadkarim Mahmadali, Bozor Shoev, Faizali Asoev, Tohir Bobiev, Kukunu Gulbek, Abdughaffori Soleh. Representatives of the Supreme Soviet and government: 1. I. Davlatov, 2. A. Iskandarov, 3. S. Turaev, 4. D. Ashurov, 5. A. Sohibnazar, 6. A. Habibov, 7. Davlati Ismon, 8. U. Gh. Usmonov, 9. Sh. N. Sharifov, 10. M. Nazarshoev, 11. S. Khairulloev, 12. Ch. Karimov, 13. T. Ghafforov, 14. H. Nasriddinov, 15. A. Imomov, 16. F. Abdulloev, 17. Ch. Aminov. City of Dushanbe, September 7, 1992.142 142 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 155–156.

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A glance at the constitution of Soviet Tajikistan shows that this document does not meet its standards. However, as the names under the document indicate, major political, governmental, and prominent figures of Tajikistan have attached their signatures to it. On the strength of their conviction, Rahmon Nabiev, the first popularly elected president of the Republic of Tajikistan, was dismissed from his position, denoting the end of legal, Soviet government in the republic.143

143 Ibid., 156.

CHAPTER 5

The Government of National Reconciliation INTRODUCTION

T

his chapter deals with Safarali Kenjaev’s activities between late August, 1992 and the sixteenth Supreme Soviet meeting in Khujand on November 16, 1992,1 including the formation of two fronts in the Hisor valley and Tursunzoda to support the efforts of the commanders in the south. Kenjaev stayed in touch with those commanders with the help of Rustam Abdurahimov, a wellknown musician, and Jonkhon Rizoev, the head of the Executive Committee of Kulob. Communications broke down when Safarov and Saidov, who had been scheduled to support Kenjaev and his troops in Dushanbe, failed to come to his aid. The chapter also covers the activities of Rahmon Nabiev, especially his role in the GNR, his forced resignation, and Kenjaev’s relentless efforts, with the help of the Russians, to convince Akbarsho Iskandarov to hold the sixteenth meeting of the Supreme Soviet in Khujand. The chapter ends with Nabiev’s official resignation, Kenjaev’s temporary house arrest, and his address to the Supreme Soviet in Khujand.

A LAST-DITCH EFFORT After Huvaidulloev’s funeral, Kenjaev returned to Khujand. From there, he contacted the commanders in the south—Sangak Safarov, Langari Langariev, Faizali Saidov,2 and Rustam Abdurahimov—and solicited their cooperation 1 For an appraisal of the activities of the Sixteenth session in Khujand, see Karim, Fariod, 541–544. 2 For Faizali Sa’idov’s life, see Khatloni and Istaravshani, Tufon, 56–61.

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in establishing a united national front against the opposition. This initial contact resulted in a temporary, verbal agreement to be formalized into a contract in a subsequent meeting where all the commanders would be present in person. At that time, they agreed, a protocol would be issued and signed by all commanders. However, this meeting never happened. Still, Rustam Abdurahimov and Jonkhon Rizoev became the mediators between Kenjaev and the commanders in the south listed above. Strange as that might sound, especially in a military context, Kenjaev believed from then on that he had a firm pledge from the commanders in the south and was involved in planning their activities. It turned out that Kenjaev was not as good a politician or commander, as he was a lawyer. On the political arena, President Nabiev took advantage of him in the Navjuvonov matter. Kenjaev states that he learned a great deal from that experience. But now he had a great deal to learn about the communication skills necessary to run an effective military command, especially when it came to personal contacts and negotiating agreements. The only instance when the commanders in the south spared some attention for Kenjaev was when they reacted to the news that the opposition had formed two terrorist groups, planning to eliminate Kenjaev. Even though they were shorthanded and even pushed back by the opposition, the southern commanders sent five fighters from Khatlon to safeguard Kenjaev. Kenjaev moved temporarily to Hisor, his birth place, and sent the fighters back to the southern commanders. On August 28, 1992, Kenjaev decided to formalize his thoughts on the proposed union and disseminate them for feedback and revision. He wrote a draft constitution for a front that he tentatively referred to as the Fronti Khalqii Tojikiston (People’s Front of Tajikistan). Rather than discussing his draft with the other commanders, as was his original intention, Kenjaev instead consulted with several major figures in Khujand. He asked them to read his proposal, amend it where necessary, and, when acceptable, sign it.3 He chose that route, Kenjaev said, to legitimize the document and, by extension, his military activities.

CONSTITUTION OF PEOPLE’S FRONT OF TAJIKISTAN (PFT) The constitution consisted of an introduction and twenty-four articles. The introduction stated the goals of the front and specified its possible location. 3 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 104–105.

The Government of National Reconciliation

The objective of the front was explained as creating understanding between the non-Islamic factions in and outside the Tajik government and the opposition, that consisted for the most part of religious leaders. The following are the reasons provided for the creation of the front. Tajiks, Kenjaev said, are ignorant about contemporary affairs and indifferent to law, order, and authority. For instance, they attached themselves to the Islamic Shari’a and democracy, and, at the same time, ignored the human values that those concepts represented.4 The PFT could become an instrument to prevent the Tajiks from unwittingly destroying the fabric of the contemporary Soviet Tajik society, which had developed during the past seventy years. The constitution claimed that many groups had already acted outside the law, disabled the organs of the government, and attempted to disassemble the presidency, an office voted into existence by the people. PFT, the introduction claimed, was established to prevent aggression. The members of the PFT, as the introduction concluded, desired to create a unified and prosperous Tajikistan.5 The body of the Constitution included ten articles dealing with the aims of the PFT, nine dealing with membership, four with leadership, and one with the headquarters of the front. The front was to be headquartered in the city of Tursunzoda.6 On September 8, 1992, Kenjaev invited his friends and associates (ostensibly those who legitimized the draft constitution) to a meeting. They gathered in Sarboda, Aini province, and discussed the war. The main item on the agenda was how to put an end to the raging civil war.7 It was decided to create three fronts, two immediately and a third in the near future. The first front, with headquarters in Tursunzoda, was to cover Dushanbe, Tursunzoda, Shahrnav, Hisor, Varzob, the Leninskii raion, Kofarnihon, and Faizabad. Its commander was Amirqul Azimov. The second front covered Ghozimolik, Jilikul, Qabodion, and Sharitus. Its headquarters was located at Qizilqal’a, and its commander was Taghoikhon Shukurov. The two fronts started operation on September 10, 1992. In the Sarboda meeting, rules and regulations governing the fronts were discussed. The objective was to prevent those without a pass (yet to be created) from entering the regions controlled by the two fronts. The commanders in the south did not have 4 5 6 7

Ibid., 106. Ibid., 107. Ibid., 110–111. For lists of participants, see ibid., 186–190.

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any direct involvement in the discussions or any input in the decision-making processes that went into the formation of the PFT fronts. Only after the meeting, they were apprised of the decisions made. As for a chairman to oversee the overall activities of the PFT, Kenjaev’s name came up. He did not accept chairmanship outright. He said he preferred, if possible, that the position be offered to one of the commanders in the south. On that note, the chairmanship issue was tabled. After the meeting, Kenjaev went back to Khujand and then traveled to Russia on urgent business.8 Meanwhile, the situation in the south went from bad to worse. PFT members were fearful of the outcome. A connection between the PFT fronts and the forces under the southern command was still to be established. On October 6, 1992, a meeting was organized between the PFT representatives and the commanders in the south. Of the four commanders, only Rustam Abdurahimov participated. In the meeting, Kenjaev was elected as the leader of the PFT. He then issued a proclamation announcing the establishment of the PFT to the nation. The participants of the meeting promised to persuade the GNR to hold the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet as soon as possible and to chart a new direction for the country.9 In the proclamation, the objective of the PFT was specified as struggling against any group or groups that sought dictatorship as opposed to a government of law, order, and tranquility. The proclamation was translated into Russian and Uzbeki and was distributed widely. The people of Hisor and its environs welcomed the PFT. But once again, the leadership of the front failed in creating a meaningful connection with the commanders in the south. The PFT assisted those commanders indirectly by preventing the opposition from gaining ground in Dushanbe and its environs. In that sense, the PFT strengthened the position of the fighters in Kulob and Qurghonteppa. In spite of that, the opposition was gaining ground in the south.10 On October 15, 1992, Faizali Saidov defeated the opposition and freed the city of Qurghonteppa. The viloyat, however, remained in the hands of the opposition. The opposition looked for recruits from among the youth of the region, intending to send them to Qurghonteppa viloyat and fight Faizali. But people from various ethnic groups, aware of the aims of the opposition, turned   8 Ibid., 185–190.   9 Ibid., 266–268. 10 Ibid., 271–276.

The Government of National Reconciliation

down the opposition recruiters. In fact, they shunned the opposition in large numbers and joined the PFT.11 Kenjaev presents the following as factors that affected the outcome of the war in Qurghonteppa. First, he notices that the opposition put all its faith in Tajik fundamentalists, while the PFT drew on all segments of society making no distinction in terms of ethnic origins or ideological preferences. He also mentions that the PFT was gradually gaining ground in Tursunzoda and its environs because the opposition lacked experienced commanders and politicians. In fact, earlier on, the leaders of the opposition had tried to attract Kenjaev to their side by offering him any position that he desired, but he had turned them down. In that regard, the following discussion in Turajonzoda’s book is interesting: After Nabiev informed me that he intended to remove Kenjaev as the head of the Supreme Soviet, he asked me to break the news to Kenjaev. So I informed Kenjaev about my meeting with Nabiev and his decision. I then tried to convince Kenjaev that he should abandon Nabiev’s side and join the Islamists. “I have been telling you,” I said, “the communists will sell you down the road.” Kenjaev did not agree to join the Islamists. “My dismissal,” he said, “is a matter between Nabiev and me. …”12

Furthermore, Kenjaev noticed that PFT prevented fighters from various parts of the republic from joining the opposition. More importantly, fundamentalists in key positions in the opposition, officials, and members of the Department of Internal Affairs, were leaving their posts as well as the areas freed by the PFT. Individuals in the PFT ranks who continued to support the opposition were replaced with people who were loyal to the PFT. Unlike the opposition, the PFT leaders and members tried to acquaint the general public with the principles of the Hanafi faith and issued proclamations, inviting them to join the PFT. As an evidence of their popularity, people in the regions loyal to the PFT refused to carry out orders issued by the GNR. As a part of their peace-keeping activities, the PFT prevented shipments of arms from reaching the opposition in Dushanbe and in the south. In addition, the PFT redirected provisions destined for Dushanbe to Kulob to help the Kulobis who were going 11 Ibid., 276–277. 12 Akbar Turajonzoda, Mioni Obu Otash Tarhi Sulh Andokhtam, Ammo (Dushanbe: no publisher, 1998), 41–45.

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through hard times. When the opposition claimed that the PFT intended to create chaos in Dushanbe, the PFT issued an account of its activities in three languages and distributed it among the people. Additionally, the PFT leaders met with the village soviets in various places and explained that the PFT intended to make the situation in the republic normal again.13 The PFT was officially registered in Tursunzoda on October 16, 1992. In the areas vacated by the opposition, the PFT found tunnels, command rooms full of books, instruction manuals, supplies, and instructions for acquisition of supplies, locating manpower, and conduits for training recruits before they were sent to the front. They also found an account that enumerated the shortcomings of the Soviet system. Obviously, those were the type of materials that during the past fifteen years had been used for recruitment purposes in key communist kolkhozes and sovkhozes. There were also accounts about Islam before fundamentalism, and after the Hanafi faithful were radicalized against the Soviet system.14 There was even a comprehensive description of how the opposition, often referred to as Wufchiks, went about their daily lives, worked, held power, accused, and eliminated Iurchiks.15 According to Kenjaev, the opposition did not collapse by itself. Several key features and activities of the PFT contributed to the opposition’s demise. First, the PFT was open to people of all ethnic and religious background, providing equal access to training and the use of weapons. Importantly, PFT also distributed information about the true nature of the Hanafi sect. This knowledge convinced the supporters of the opposition that they were no longer welcome in the south. Consequently, the opposition left the periphery and moved to Dushanbe. Additionally, the PFT forces surrounded the opposition troops, leaving them no option but to vacate Qurghonteppa. Once the opposition left, the governmental organs in the region took over and Safarov set free all the prisoners held by the opposition. After this defeat, the leadership of the two PFT fronts organized discussion sections, where they requested the opposition to cease its activities and return to the traditional Islamic ways, as their supremacy has already been proven. The opposition was erratic in its reaction. It would agree in the morning to a proposition only to disagree with it at night by taking hostages and killing more innocent people in the mosques. Discussions, however, continued. On the twelfth day of discussion, a piece of paper fell out of the hand of an old teacher who was being interrogated. Kenjaev picked up the paper and 13 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 2, 277–295. 14 Ibid., 302–304. 15 Ibid., 310ff.

The Government of National Reconciliation

looked it over. It was a map containing vital information about the PFT, the locations of its headquarters, and its military strength.16 At about the same time, the opposition captured two young men and put them on trial. They did not have any information about the PFT. The PFT members pleaded with the opposition to release the innocent young men. The opposition claimed that they had already been freed, but it was a lie. Their lifeless bodies were found that very night in the alley. In retaliation, the PFT mounted an attack on the fundamentalists of Tursunzoda. Those leaders and their supporters, too, fled to Dushanbe. Many of those who fled were familiar with Dushanbe because they had been among the supporters of Kenjaev who had come to the Ozodi square. Now they found themselves fighting the GNR, or the illegitimate authorities ruling the country.17 Ironically, circumstances had made them enemies of Kenjaev as well. Such are the dynamics of civil wars. As the war continued, many were killed and many more were displaced. That made the situation in which the GNR had to operate precarious. More and more people realized that the current rulers placed themselves in key positions in the government, taking advantage of the political ignorance of the multitude. The people saw now that the communist government and the radical Islamists both had separated them from their original Hanafi faith. Seeing those atrocities, Kenjaev, on behalf of the PFT, called Iskandarov and Davlati Ismon and raised his objections against the untenable situation in which the people were placed. He pleaded with them to begin the Sixteenth session in Khujand as soon as possible. He threatened them with military action on the part of the PFT, if they did not stop the bloodshed. In turn, the two commanders tried to calm Kenjaev down and assure him that there was no cause for alarm, that Dushanbe was tranquil, and that the infidels supporting the PFT would soon be eliminated. Additionally, they informed Kenjaev that even if they wanted to proclaim the Sixteenth session, they did not have the authority. Only the Supreme Soviet had this right. Their advice to Kenjaev was that he should disassociate himself from Sangak Safarov, Langari Langariev, and other people who were seeking high positions. Once those commanders reached those positions, warned Iskandarov and Ismon, they would abandon Kenjaev. Kenjaev was unfazed, as he had heard that before.18 On October 12, 1992, the PFT members convened in Tursunzoda, to which Jonkhon Rizoev and Rustam Abdurahimov were invited. In the meeting, 16 Ibid., 22. 17 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 3, 23–24. 18 Ibid., 66–68.

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the dire situation in Dushanbe was discussed. It was explained that the Kulobis, Hisoris, Russians, and Uzbeks were being systematically sought after and killed. Rizoev informed the group that the situation in the south, too, was dire and that Langari Langariev and the other commanders were in a very difficult situation, except Sangak Safarov, who was doing well. The heads of the PFT fronts reported on the situation in their parts of the Republic. The shocking revelation was that the republic’s MIA had been arming the opposition. Worse than that was the revelation that Iskandarov had given the government troops permission to shoot and kill PFT members.19 Another topic that was discussed in detail was the legal procedure for convening the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet through the GNR. Two ideas surfaced. I.

The first option considered was to invade Dushanbe with the intention of toppling the illegal GNR. This variant did not have many supporters. Those opposed to this idea gave the following arguments. 1) Dushanbe is the capital of the republic and, as such, it is a sacred heritage. It is not proper to subject its inhabitants to a military invasion. 2) Both sides are armed. The invasion would not only ruin the city, but it would also create a threat for its 700,000 citizens, many would become homeless. 3) PFT aggression will be interpreted as a coup d’état, placing the contending sides on a par. 4) Neither the people of Tajikistan nor the people of the world would support such an action. It would cost the PFT and its leaders dearly. II. The alternative was to enter Dushanbe quietly from four sides, take over the radio and television station, inform the MIA, the National Security Committee (NSC), politicians, and religious personalities that PFT has come to Dushanbe to facilitate the convening of the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet in the city of Leninabad. In this case, Dushanbe will be spared the fighting.

The group also investigated the logistics, were an invasion to take place. In that case, it was decided that the second front would stay in Ghozimalik, Jilikul, and other cities in the region, to prevent the opposition groups from gathering 19 Ibid., 68–70.

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there. The first front and the southern command will carry out the mission: 2,000 soldiers led by Faizali Saidov, Langari Langariev, and Sangak Safarov would take over the Supreme Soviet building, the railroad, and the center of the city; 1,100 soldiers of the first front would take over the president’s palace, radio and television station, and the Frunze region; while a group of 500 militias would come to Dushanbe from Leninabad via Anzob. Jonkhon Rizoev, without consulting the commanders in the south, accepted the plan. He agreed that Kulob would send 2,000 soldiers to Dushanbe for the operation. However, he asked for some ammunition before he could proceed with the plan. PFT had five hundred guns at hand. Of that, four hundred were given to Rizoev and the remaining hundred to the fighters of the second front. Rizoev and Abdurahimov then left for Kulob to brief the others regarding the thoughts and planned actions of the PFT.20 It is significant to mention once again that there was no direct, official contact between the three major commanders in the south and the PFT command. Rustam Abdurahimov was present but, as it becomes increasingly clear, he did not act as a commander. A well-known musician, he took the duties of a propagandist. Rizoev’s role and reliability were totally untested. On October 14, 1992, generals, professors, and other experts met with Rizoev, Abdurahimov, a representative from Russia, and Husseinov in Tursunzoda to review the plans suggested for the movement of the troops.21 Speaking on behalf of the first front, Azimov described the situation in Dushanbe as critical. Kulobis, Leninabadis, Hisoris, Zarafshonis, Ghozimalikis, Uzbeks, and Russians were being killed in the city and its environs. The representative of Russia stated that the Russian Federation will do all it can to safeguard the 400,000 Russians in the republic. Rizoev reported that he had discussed the situation with Sangak Safarov, Langari Langariev, and others, who all confirmed their readiness to enter Dushanbe on October 17 with the 1,500 soldiers led by Langari Langariev and the media group under Abdurahimov’s supervision and direction. The experts had prepared the plan of attack, including the details regarding the movement of the troops within the city. The Faizali group was to enter through Kofarnihon. At the same time that those soldiers and the PFT headed by Kenjaev would enter Dushanbe, the 201st Russian Rifle Division was to surround the city and block all entrances. The soldiers were given pieces of fabric to attach to their arms so that they could identify each other and not 20 Ibid., 73–74. 21 Ibid., 92.

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shoot each other. After all the arrangements were made, the Kulob duo left Tursunzoda and returned to their headquarters in the south in order to brief Sangak Safarov, Langari Langariev, and the others. It was decided that Rizoev should come to Tursunzoda on October 16 and that Abdurahimov should accompany the troops of the first front.22 A meeting on October 15 finalized the logistics for the movement of troops to Dushanbe.23 Meanwhile, the war continued in Qabodion, Jilikul, Shahrtus, and other regions. The opposition received aid and arms from the GNR as well as from Afghanistan. Kenjaev, on the other hand, drew on the diversity of the people of the region, especially the Uzbeks, for strength. When facing a common enemy, Kenjaev believed, the Hisoris would set aside regionalism and, Tajik and Uzbek alike, would fight for Tajikistan.24 Again, Kenjaev as a commander did not have any solid evidence regarding the assertions of the two from Kulob. Surprisingly, he did not undertake any fact finding in that regard until it was too late. On October 16, Abdurahimov and his company did not arrive in Tursunzoda as expected. Their delay worried Kenjaev. The PFT in Dushanbe had been ordered to begin operation on time on the 17th. If the others were either late, or worse, did not join them at the scheduled time, their lives would be in jeopardy. Everyone was worried about the consequences of such a turn for the whole operation. Since Kulob could not be reached by telephone, it was decided to send Kenjaev to Kulob to investigate the situation.25 In Kulob, Rizoev and his associates welcomed Kenjaev and took him to lunch, where they talked about almost every subject except the scheduled invasion. When Kenjaev brought up the subject, Rizoev explained casually that the schedule had been changed due to readiness issues and logistical matters. He also added that he had sent a message to Tursunzoda but, apparently, it had failed to reach Kenjaev. Kenjaev found himself in a very difficult situation. He had to somehow alert the PFT headquarters that the operation has been cancelled. He tried to fly back, but due to adverse weather conditions, he could not. Later that night, through a friend in Dushanbe, he contacted the PFT headquarters and explained the situation.26 22 23 24 25 26

Ibid., 93–98. Ibid., 74. Ibid., 79. Ibid., 98–99. Ibid., 101–104.

The Government of National Reconciliation

As for Rizoev and others, who had changed the PFT orders on their own, the Front decreed that they should stand trial for transgression in Tursunzoda. Trial was tentatively scheduled for October 19, 1992.27 During the meeting on October 19, 1992, Jonkhon Rizoev was accused of changing the date of the invasion of Dushanbe without permission. Rizoev defended his decision, stating that it was impossible to mobilize the mostly untrained troops (1,500 soldiers of Langari Langariev, and 500 soldiers of Faizali Saidov) within the two days allotted for the operation, considering that they were located between 200 and 250 kilometers from the city of Dushanbe.28 Rizoev did not explain on what basis, or according to what authority, he had agreed to move the troops in the first place. At the end, no decision was made about Rizoev’s insubordination. Instead, Rizoev and Abdurahimov suggested to reschedule the invasion of Dushanbe for October 23, 1992, at 5:00 am. According to the new plan, Langari Langariev and his 1,500 soldiers were to cross the Sharshar gorge and reach Yovon. Abdurahimov would arrive in Tursunzoda on the October 22, where the Kulobi media would join him. Together, they would accompany Saidov and the 500 soldiers of the first front on their way to Dushanbe. At this last meeting, Kenjaev suggested that Sangak Safarov should accompany Faizali Saidov to Dushanbe, because Safarov was one of the first founders of the Ozodi meeting, whose name intimidated the opposition. Kenjaev thought that Safarov’s input would be crucial during the discussions that would ensue after their entrance to Dushanbe, at the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet. The troops entering Dushanbe were instructed to refrain from shooting their guns under all circumstances. Such an action would start a war, which was not the PFT’s intention. As the troops were told, the plan was only to persuade the authorities in Dushanbe to convene the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet. The group rejected Kenjaev’s suggestion that Sangak Safarov should come to Dushanbe with Faizali Saidov. In fact, the group was against Safarov’s participation in the session at all, because his involvement could instigate conflict where the intention was to settle differences through discussion and mutual understanding. Kenjaev, however, insisted on Sangak Safarov’s involvement because he felt the Hisoris should not be the ones to end a war that the Kulobis had started. Kenjaev’s attitude, it should be mentioned, slighted the Kulobis present in the

27 Ibid., 104–105. 28 Ibid., 110.

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meeting.29 Before the meeting ended, Rizoev asked for more weapons and received four hundred out of the five hundred guns in possession of the PFT at the time. Only a hundred guns remained for the establishment of the third front. The PFT commanders were not happy with Kenjaev as a commander. They felt that by giving almost all the ammunition to the Kulobis, Kenjaev had discriminated against the Hisoris. The next item on the agenda was the role of the 201st Russian Rifle Division. It accepted the responsibility of preventing a war.30 Lastly, the commanders assigned specific armbands to each regiment so that the various troops could recognize each other. After emphasizing the necessity for a new meeting the day before entering Dushanbe, the meeting was adjourned.

DOUBLE-CROSSED After his Kulob trip and his conversation with his colleagues there, Kenjaev became worried about the relationship between Sangak Safarov and Jonkhon Rizoev. He discussed his feelings with Rustam Abdurahimov. Abdurahimov assured Kenjaev that there was no reason to doubt Rizoev’s sincerity. This was heartening in one way and quite unsettling in a different way. In the past, Abdurahimov had consistently supported Rizoev a hundred percent, yet Rizoev had fallen short.31 On October 22, 1992, the Cabinet of Ministers of Tajikistan issued the following decree: The Cabinet of Ministers of the Republic of Tajikistan Decree October 22, 1992, No. 395, Dushanbe About the establishment of numbers and units of the Republic of Tajikistan’s national guard The Cabinet of Ministers of the Republic of Tajikistan decrees: 1.  A regiment of national guard shall be established and quartered in Qurghonteppa and a national guard battalion shall be established and quartered in Kofarnihon. 29 Ibid., 110–112. 30 Ibid., 116. 31 Ibid., 118.

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The following units with the following numbers shall be created: a)  Regiment of national guard of the Republic of Tajikistan, with 1,200 members (100 officers, 35 ensigns, 1,037 soldiers and sergeants, 28 workers and servants) b)  Battalion of national guard of the Republic of Tajikistan, with 350 members (25 officers, 15 ensigns, 301 soldiers and sergeants, 9 workers and servants) 2.  The basis for the creation of the regiment and the battalion are the signed decrees of the Cabinet of Ministers of the Republic of Tajikistan No. 309, dated June 23, 1992, and No. 364, dated ­October 1, 1992. 3.  The Qurghonteppa and Kofarnihon executive committees shall supply transport and victuals for the national guard. 4.  The regiment and battalion of the Republic of Tajikistan’s national guard shall receive funding from the state treasury and the ­Ministry of National Defense. 5.  The Ministry of Economy and Revenue of the Republic of Tajikistan will see to the needs of the numbers and units with respect to weaponry, military technical assistance, and other equipment. 6.  The ministries and the offices of the Republic of Tajikistan will provide all the necessities required by the regiment and batallion. Prime Minister, Republic of Tajikistan    A.Abdullojonov32 Director of Internal Affairs of the Cabinet of Ministers, Republic of Tajikistan

R. Mirzoev33

Between October 20 and 22, the PFT expanded its activities in Dushanbe, disseminating information about the organization. Among the people contacted were also members of the opposition.34 On October 22, 1992, the group met again. The Kulob duo suggested October 23, 1992, as the new entry date. Kenjaev was not happy with the change. He wanted to know the exact reason or reasons for the delay proposed by the Kulobis. The commanders 32 For Abdullojonov’s biography, see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 8–9. 33 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 3, 119. 34 Ibid., 121.

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discussed the matter among themselves and concluded that the field commanders in the south and the duo who had been in contact with the PFT were not on the same wave length. Perhaps, Rizoev was too involved in his own job, or possibly other business, and did not have sufficient time to spend on this assignment. Or perhaps the duo was not on friendly terms with the field commanders, at least as much as was believed. The PFT commanders decided that they should contact the southerners directly, without intermediaries. After four hours of discussion, the date of entry to Dushanbe was set as October 24, 1992,35 and the meeting disbanded. The commanders were told to inform the soldiers that the objective was to remain at the stations shown on the map. They were also informed that on October 24, the 201st Russian Rifle Division would block all entrances to and from Dushanbe.36 Later that day, confirmed by Jonkhon Rizoev, information was received that the opposition, using its forces in Qarotegin, was planning to invade Dushanbe on October 27, 1992 and establish an Islamic state in Tajikistan. There also were indications that for the planned invasion the opposition was receiving assistance from the GNR, Tavildara, and other places.37 In view of that information, an order of “ALL GO!” was issued to forestall the opposition’s plan. The order went to both PFT fronts, as well as to Langari Langariev, Sangak Safarov, and other commanders. The date for the invasion of Dushanbe was confirmed as October 24, 1992.38 Jonkhon Rizoev was asked to send Rustam Abdurahimov and the media group to Tursunzoda on October 23, 1992. They were to announce the takeover and explain the PFT’s intent to Dushanbe citizens. However, Rustam Abdurahimov came to Tursunzoda without the expected media accompaniment. He said that the media was scheduled to accompany Faizali Saidov and Sangak Safarov to Dushanbe on the 24th. Meanwhile, J­ onkhon Rizoev had gone to Danghara to discuss upcoming affairs and sent troops to the Norak region lest the opposition tries to create problems in that area. Rustam Abdurahimov spoke very highly of Faizali Saidov, but he was not as enthusiastic about Sangak Safarov. He felt that rather than a warrior, Sangak ­Safarov was an organizer, who lacked military training and did not have any 35 36 37 38

Ibid., 122–124. Ibid., 127. Ibid., 123–126. Ibid., 126.

The Government of National Reconciliation

­ ilitary achievements. In fact, Abdurahimov revealed that Safarov had not been m an active and engaged participant in the war in the south.39 This statement is in contrast to Kenjaev’s description of Safarov in earlier discussions. At no point had Abdurahimov contradicted those supporting Safarov, at least in those terms. Very early on October 24, 1992, Kenjaev and his soldiers left their headquarters for Dushanbe. They were on the Potovsky bridge, where they were scheduled to meet up with Langari Langariev at 6 am. But there was no sign of either Langari Langariev or Faizali Saidov. Kenjaev wondered what could have happened. He asked Rustam Abdurahimov for more information about the relationship between Faizali Saidov, Langari Langariev, Yusuf Saidov, and Sangak Safarov. Abdurahimov did not have an explanation for their delay and lack of contact. Kenjaev’s thoughts oscillated between accident and treason.40 For the first time, he regretted being blind to the ruses of Rizoev. More so because he had promised to equip his five hundred compatriots in Anzob with weapons. They were ready to join his operation, but he had had to turn them away empty handed because he had given the guns to Rizoev.41 The only encouraging news that day was that Abdumalik Abdullojonov, previously affiliated with the GNR, had joined the PFT. Kenjaev’s PFT troops were organized by region. Coming out of training, they shot their way into Dushanbe with ease and captured the radio and television station. Still there was no news of Langari Langariev who, by that time, was supposed to have seized control of the Ozodi square.42 As Kenjaev was filled with helplessness, the 201st Russian Rifle Division, following the plan, appeared at the radio and television station. Their leader reported that all was well: all entrance points to the city of Dushanbe were blocked. Kenjaev analyzed the situation in his mind looking for the reason for Langariev’s blatant breach of trust. Eventually he concluded that, after all, the war they were fighting was a regional war. He was in command of the Hisor force. Were that force to win, it would become the dominant force in the republic with the potential of party leadership. The Kulobis, he thought, would not want the Hisoris to rule over them. Therefore, he concluded, it was natural for the Kulobis to abandon the Hisoris and fend for themselves. The unfortunate part 39 40 41 42

Ibid., 128. Ibid., 139–140. Ibid., 113. Ibid., 141.

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of this for Kenjaev was the realization that he had made a colossal military blunder. The Kulobis were using the very weapons that he had given Rizoev to push their own agenda forward.43 Kenjaev and Rustam Abdurahimov entered the radio and television station in Dushanbe. Announcing the arrival of Kenjaev and the PFT troops in Dushanbe, Abdurahimov introduced Kenjaev, wrongly or otherwise, as the “president of Tajikistan.” Both Kenjaev and Abdurahimov were criticized profusely for the incident. Abdurahimov’s statement was interpreted as proclaiming not only presidency for Kenjaev, but also as the leadership in the Supreme Soviet for the “position-seeking” Abdurahimov. After Abdurahimov’s introduction, Kenjaev addressed the citizens of Dushanbe, explaining the reasons for the establishment of the PFT, its function, and most importantly, its plan for the future of the Republic.44 In the Islamic Republic of Iran, Kenjaev’s lecture was published in the weekly Kayhane Hawai, in its world politics section, under the title “Tajikistan: Ephemeral Changes and Obscure Future”: Several times, in his brief statement, Kenjaev held Turajonzoda, the qozikalon of the republic, responsible for the bloodshed in the recent events. Whereas, according to the residents of Kulob and Qurghonteppa the atrocities were committed by the opposition (that is, fronts against the GNR). The government did not have the military strength required to counter the opposition (meaning the major opposition against the government). It is important to note in this context that Kenjaev and Turajonzoda are stepbrothers. Kenjaev was an orphan, Turajonzoda’s father took him from the orphanage and brought him up as if he were his own son. After the appearance of the political upheaval in the Republic, Turajonzoda, who enjoyed the support of the people of the republic, helped his stepbrother, Kenjaev, who feigned adherence to Islam, ascend to high places in the administration. The Tajiks believe that Kenjaev was chosen by Turajonzoda to be the Head of the Supreme Soviet of the Republic. Now this very stepbrother is holding Turajonzoda responsible for the current bloody events in the country.45

43 Ibid., 142. 44 Ibid., 143–144. 45 Ibid., 144–147; Kayhane Hawai, 1004, 32, Tehran, November 11, 1992.

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Kenjaev rejected the account reported by Kayhane Hawai and called it a fabrication. In order to discredit the rumors that appeared around his name, he presented the following detailed account about his childhood. My parents moved from the Takob region, Aini district, to Hisor in 1933. I was born in 1942, in the household of a farmer in Choryakkoron village, subordinate to the soviet of the Ispijak village, in Pobeda administrative unit, Lenin district. I grew up under the tutorship of my father Kenja Rajabov and my mother Qimat Sharifova. They were regular farmers and cattle herders in the Pobeda Kolkhoz, Lenin administrative unit. My mother died in 1957 and my father in 1967. My elementary schooling was at the Chorkor village and my high school was at the Aini school of Ispijak. At fifteen I began to work for the kolkhoz where I was paid. After finishing high school in 1960, I registered at the Faculty of Law of the National University of Tajikistan in the Name of Lenin.   Regarding the alleged family tie to Akbar Turajonzoda, as the account above indicates, I have never lived in an orphanage from where the Ishon of Turajon could have brought me to his house to bring up as his son. Additionally, the Honorable Haji Akbar Turajonzoda Ishon Tura is only fifteen or eighteen years older than me. How could a fifteen- or an eighteenyear-old young man take me from an orphanage and bring me up?   Besides, fortunately I was born into a Muslim family, continuously abided by the Shari’a and the teachings of the noble Qur’an, and prayed to Allah to die a faithful. … I did not change my belief and did not pretend piety in order to become a representative of the people of Tajikistan. I did not deceive anyone, I did not lie, I did not betray my faith, and I never received any support from Haji Akbar Turajonzoda. Furthermore, God is witness. The representatives of the people elected me to the position of the Head of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan from among three candidates. The vote was unanimous, first ballot. Haji Akbar Turajonzoda had nothing to do with my election. In fact, on the day that the vote was taken, both the Haji and Davron Ashurov were absent. They did not vote. Those who do not believe me, can check the records at the Supreme Soviet.   Finally, if the Honorable Haji Akbar Turajonzoda Ishon of Tura had taken me from an orphanage and brought me up as his son, why did my “brother” Akbar create so many problems for me? Why did he set up people in squares against me to bring me down from my position? Why did he lace his preaching with lies to turn the poor, illiterate, and ignorant people

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That account is important because it shows how eager Kenjaev was to defend himself against the accusations brought by the much-believed statement in Kayhane Hawai.46 Stranded in Dushanbe with his “allies” nowhere in sight, Kenjaev was frustrated and wanted to make the best of a situation gone awry. Eager to find a way out, Kenjaev visited the 201st Russian Rifle Division and explained the situation to the Russian authorities. He reminded them that in an earlier meeting, the Russian representative had promised that the 201st Russian Rifle Division would come to the assistance of his troops. The Russian officials offered to confront any force that would try to enter Dushanbe.47 Kenjaev then called Iskandarov and Navjuvonov and explained the nonviolent nature of the PFT’s entrance to Dushanbe. He demanded that the Sixteenth session be held in Khujand. Iskandarov agreed to this proposal on October 26, 1992.48 There was still no news from the Kulobis! Kenjaev thought about his recent short visit to Kulob. In the meeting, Mahmadsaid Ubaidulloev was an active participant.49 In fact, he explicitly agreed to the proposed arrangements regarding troop deployment schedule. But now, for unknown reasons, he was silent and never explained why Langari Langariev’s troops had failed to reach Dushanbe as scheduled.50 At about 1:00 pm, news came that, in three hours, a force led by Iskandarov, Navjuvonov, and Turajonzoda would enter Dushanbe. Kenjaev called the 201st Russian Rifle Division and alerted them to the invasion. They met the force at the seventh kilometer, along the Dushanbe-Kofarnihon highway.51 What Kenjaev did not know was that, on October 23, 1992, Langari Langariev, when trying to cross the Sharshar region, had been shot and transferred to the hospital. According to Jonkhon Rizoev, Langariev had been shot by one 46 Cf. Epkenhans, Origins, 170–171. 47 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 3, 147–148. 48 Ibid., 151–152. 49 Ibid., 154. 50 For Ubaidulloev’s biography see Bashiri, Prominent Figures, 356. Ubaidulloev will become a prominent figure in later development of Rahmonov’s career. See below. 51 Kenjaev, ibid., 160–161.

The Government of National Reconciliation

of his own soldiers. Rizoev regretted that he had not spent sufficient time with the field commanders in the south in order to know them better and to vet them more closely.52 He promised, however, that Faizali Saidov and Ya’qubjon Salimov would be in Dushanbe on October 25, 1992. At this point, Kenjaev’s troops were low in provisions. Kenjaev made a quick trip to Tursunzoda to arrange the deliveries. When he returned to Dushanbe, he was informed that an unknown young man, driving a Zhiguli car, had come to the radio and television station and taken Rustam Abdurahimov away from the Front’s headquarters with no further news about his whereabouts. The information stunned Kenjaev and made him uneasy. He wondered why those in the headquarters should have allowed some unknown person to take one of the leaders in his command away, especially as they knew that some of the Kulobis were not friends of the PFT?53 He sensed that, in some way, Rizoev must have a hand in the abduction. In an extensive telephone conversation, he accused Rizoev of being less than candid about the coming of Langari Langariev, Faizali Saidov, and Sangak Safarov to Dushanbe at the scheduled time. Among other accusations, Kenjaev also claimed that Rizoev was keeping the PFT away from Dushanbe and systematically dispossessing the PFT of almost all its weaponry, which also prevented Kenjaev from arming his five hundred Anzobi fighters. When all his efforts to locate Rustam Abdurahimov failed, Kenjaev called Iskandarov and pleaded with him to make sure that Rustam Abdurahimov was not harmed.54 After reviewing the situation, especially in view of the PFT occupation, the generals of the 201st Russian Rifle Division invited Iskandarov and Kenjaev to a meeting. Both Tajik leaders explained and defended their positions. Kenjaev explained that, just that morning, he promised to pause the activities of the PFT, in exchange for Iskandarov agreeing to hold the meeting of the next Supreme Soviet on the 26th. But, Kenjaev added, at 4:00 p.m. of the same day, Iskandarov invaded Kenjaev’s positions. Therefore, Kenjaev demanded, first that the Sixteenth session be held in Khujand, and second, that both Iskandarov and Abdullojonov should resign their positions in the GNR. For his part, Iskandarov agreed to hold the meeting on October 26th, but refused Kenjaev’s demand regarding the two resignations.55 52 53 54 55

Ibid., 163. Ibid., 171–174 Ibid., 175–177. Ibid., 175–183.

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Among other figures present at the meeting, Lieutenant-General Eduard Vorobiev fully supported Kenjaev’s position. He called Iskandarov’s actions unwise and warned him that the forces of Langari Langariev, Sangak Safarov, and Faizali Saidov would soon join the PFT in Dushanbe. Their entrance, he said, would raze the city to the ground. Russia, the general said, will not allow that, but neither will Russian forces aid Iskandarov before the soldiers enter the city. The general also stated that he would contact the CIS forces and apprise them of the outcome of the present meeting, in particular, commenting on Iskandarov’s lack of cooperation.56 Following that, Poyandashoev, supporting General Vorobiev, persuaded Iskandarov to agree with Kenjaev’s terms. Iskandarov, fearful of the consequences including the reaction of his Islamist extremist allies, was puzzled. Never before had he been forced by circumstances to make tough decisions on his own. In the end, he agreed to both of Kenjaev’s demands. The Supreme Soviet was to meet in Khujand on the 26th, and the resignation of himself and Abdullojonov was now on the agenda.57 Iskandarov then placed a batch of documents that he had been holding during the discussion, on the table. Those documents, he said, were the very documents that they had been demanding, the letters of resignation signed by himself and by Abdullojonov. Iskandarov then clarified that, after his discussion with Kenjaev, he had asked for and received Abdullojonov’s resignation. He also confirmed that the meeting on October 26, 1992, will take place at 16:00. He concluded with hopes that Kenjaev would honor his words and order the PFT forces to leave Dushanbe immediately. Kenjaev changed the time from16:00 to 18:00 and proposed to keep half of the PFT forces in Dushanbe until October 26th, but he was overruled. Then, in order to keep the two sides from using the radio and television station as their individual propaganda tool, the station was placed under the supervision of the CIS. Against the wishes of his commanders, Kenjaev removed all the PFT forces from Dushanbe. He later admitted that it was the biggest mistake of his leadership.58 As a result of the agreement between Kenjaev and Iskandarov, the PFT fighters were disarmed, their weapons were collected and put away, to be returned to them later. Meanwhile, several episodes of friendly fire took place between the CIS and the PFT forces and some soldiers were killed. 56 Ibid., 184. 57 Ibid., 184–185. 58 Ibid., 185–187.

The Government of National Reconciliation

After the meeting, it was announced on television that the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet will be held in Khujand on October 26, 1992, and that the agenda will include two resignations, those of Iskandarov and Abdullojonov. All deputies were asked to attend.59 But on the 26th, none of the leaders of the GNR showed up in Khujand to participate in the meeting. Instead, in spite of Iskandarov’s promise, the opposition began a campaign against Kenjaev, calling him the killer of the Tajik youth. Even though there were enough representatives in Khujand to hold the meeting, the session was cancelled. The meeting could not begin without Iskandarov, who was the Soviet’s chair.60 Meanwhile Rizoev got in touch with Kenjaev and explained why Faizali Saidov did not meet Kenjaev on the Potovsky bridge. Sangak Safarov had prevented Faizali Saidov and others from going to Dushanbe. Rizoev also told Kenjaev that Langari Langariev had been wounded.61 Initially, Kenjaev did not believe Rizoev’s explanation, but subsequent discussion with others helped to change his mind.62 Finally, when Safarov killed Rizoev in front of all the commanders, Kenjaev became convinced that Safarov had prevented the forces from leaving their positions!63 After mulling over the matter for a while, he concluded that, in order to keep the GNR alive a little longer, the commander had resorted to regionalism and taken the side of the Kulobis against the Hisoris. Kenjaev also realized that the alleged troop movements, the forced resignation of Iskandarov and Abdullojonov, and the promise to hold the sixteenth Supreme Soviet meeting in Khujand on the 26th, had all been a ruse. Iskandarov, following the dictates of his bosses, intensified the killings in Dushanbe and environs, almost to the point of going from house to house, identifying Kulobis, Ghozimalikis, Hisoris, Zarafshonis, Uzbeks, and Russians as infidels, and eliminating them.64 For example, Boturjon Ishoqov, one of the founders of the PFT, and his sons were killed at this time.65 On November 1, 1992, the PFT held a meeting, reviewed the events between October 22 and November 1, evaluated the actions of its leaders, and provided numbers of the dead, wounded, and refugees. It also issued a 59 60 61 62 63 64 65

Ibid., 188. Ibid., 189–194. Ibid., 195–197. Ibid., 198–200. Ibid., 200. Kenjaev provides a list of those killed with details, ibid., 229–236. Ibid., 205.

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document describing the state of affairs in Tajiki, Uzbeki, and Russian, which explained the history of PFT, the actions that it had taken, and the actions that people needed to take on behalf of the Republic for the war to end. The document also clarified the differences between various shades of Islam: the mainstream Hanafi, radical Hanafi, and Wahhabi. At the end, it addressed Akbarsho Iskandarov, asking him to honor the signature that he had put on the resignation document submitted during the meeting with Kenjaev and the Russian generals. Iskandarov was advised to give up his role in the GNR and return to the safety of his homeland of Badakhshan.66

THE END OF THE GNR After the Dushanbe fiasco, the leaders of the PFT, unable to achieve their military goal, returned to their headquarters. Their next move was to prepare the ground for another confrontation with the GNR. This one on the floor of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan. My analysis of Kenjaev’s interactions with the southern command mediated by the Kulobi duo indicates that the southern command consisted of two wings rather than one: a visible military wing and an invisible political wing. The military wing, without any binding contract or treaty, was responsible for returning the rebellious southern provinces to a state normalcy. The political wing, in secret, was responsible for bringing total change to the social, political, and cultural aspects of Tajikistan by strengthening the military wing, harnessing local, national, and international assistance, and presenting a viable legislative agenda to the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet. The GNR was a divided body consisting of a number of prominent opposition figures in its leadership, as well as a large number of Soviet representatives among its ranks. Its aim was to dismantle the old Soviet system and replace it with an Islamic government. It used logic, force, and all other means available to stay in power and move its agenda forward. To understand the dynamics of the situation, it will be helpful to examine the interaction of these forces before the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet convened. After the Dushanbe events, the officials of the PFT gathered as much information about the invasion as possible and analyzed the data. As a result, Safarali Kenjaev was censured for his poor performance as a commander. He did not realize that while Kulob and Hisor were on the same wave length 66 Ibid., 236–241.

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militarily, politically they were miles apart. He later saw his mistake, but only after he had given away almost all available weapons to the Kulobis. Additionally, he failed to create a solid, legitimate base for the command in relation to the GNR and the total body of the southern command. Instead, he had relied on the words of expendable liaisons who were no more than messengers. He realized that Rizoev had been working with Sangak Safarov, who served the political wing of the southern command. Only after Rizoev and Abdurahimov had been eliminated, leaving no trace of any relation between the PFT and the southern command, did Kenjaev realize his mistake. Rizoev skillfully guided the actions of the PFT, following the dictates of the southerners’ political wing. He set the exact days and times for the PFT to appear in Dushanbe and meet disaster.67 At the same time, the PFT contacted local officials, and international leaders, for assistance. For instance, on November 1, 1992, a telegram (barqia) was sent to A. M. Homidov, the head of the Executive Committee of Leninabad, reminding him of his responsibilities. Homidov was asked to investigate the illegal activities of the GNR and act upon them. The telegram also claimed that the multiethnic PFT was ready to displace Iskandarov, but to accomplish the task, it required Hamidov’s assistance.68 A copy of the document was sent to Davron Ashurov, the head of Tajik radio and television, to be broadcast to the nation.69 Similarly, the command sent a telegram to Yeltsin with copies to the heads of the countries of the CIS. This telegram described the history of the Wahhabi takeover of Tajikistan, as well as the opposition’s plan to take over the 201st Russian Rifle Division and use it against helpless, unarmed Tajiks, Uzbeks, and Russians. More precisely, it emphasized that the opposition intended to establish an Islamic republic in Tajikistan, like the one in Iran.70 They requested Yeltsin to review the case of Tajikistan carefully and to reject Iskandarov’s proposals, especially the one regarding the appointment of Muhriddin Ashurov as the commander of the 201st Russian Rifle Division. They reminded Yeltsin that Tajikistan was an independent state and Ashurov, a Russian citizen, could not hold two positions of authority in two independent countries at the same time.71 67 68 69 70

Ibid., 243–246. Ibid., 241–242. Ibid., 242–243. According to Sohibnazar, no one was ready to admit that, for the next thirty to forty years, the Tajikistanis were not ready to accommodate a government organized by clerics. Sohibnazar, Subh, 25. 71 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 3, 270–308.

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The command also published a proclamation aimed at the population of the republic, familiarizing them with the history of the struggle and the motives of the Islamists, such as the creation of an Islamic Republic modeled on the Wahhabi model in Saudi Arabia. It explained that the PFT planned to return peace and stability to all religions and ethnic groups. The most important part of the plan was to hold the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet session in Khujand. To achieve their goals, the PFT commanders asked all regions to contribute by sending young men who could be trained and armed to fight the opposition.72 What PFT needed to do most urgently was to prove to the people of Tajikistan and the Russians involved in the conflict that it had sufficient strength to take on the GNR, by force, if necessary, and win. In that context, a report from Abdukarim Qurbonov, the first deputy of the Minister of Natural Resources of Tajikistan was very timely. He reported that the government had a large cache of arms in Hisor.73 While some of the weapons were taken and used in Sharshar and Fakhrabad, the bulk of the ammunition was still in Hisor, secured with mines to prevent the PFT and Kulob-Qurghonteppa forces from accessing the cache. With Qurbonov’s help, the PFT took those weapons and used them to strengthen its forces. When Muhriddin Ashurov and two colonels of the Russian Federation visited Hisor (Akbarsho Iskandarov, fearing for his life, did not accompany them), the PFT commanders could display the front’s military capability and its superiority over the GNR in terms of weaponry and personnel. After the visitors expressed their satisfaction, the command demanded to disband the illegal National Assembly, have its head, General-Major Muhriddin Ashurov, the cabinet of ministers (led by Abdumajid Abdullojonov), and the leadership of the Supreme Soviet (headed by Akbarsho Iskandarov) resign and the news of the resignations be broadcast widely in Tajikistan and the world. Additionally, Jurabek Aminov should be removed from the position of vice-president of the National Security Committee. The PFT also demanded that the Supreme Soviet session, originally scheduled to be held in Khujand on October 26, 1992, be held in Khujand as soon as possible. In terms of security, they asked that all the military hardware and other governmental properties taken to Badakhshan and elsewhere should be returned, and the illegal opposition groups from Qarotegin and Badakhshan that are currently in Dushanbe should be disarmed immediately. Their headquarters should be destroyed to prevent them from invading the Hisor Shodmon. The illegally established 72 Ibid., 270–303. 73 Ibid., 250–251.

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“Najoti Vatan,” “Gardi Khalqii Tojikiston,” and the “Artishi Demokrati” should be disarmed and disbanded. Finally, the PFT suggested that the state should accept responsibility for the security of all the inhabitants of the republic. After the meeting, Ashurov returned to Dushanbe where he addressed the National Assembly and, as a military man, provided information regarding the strength of the Front. He revealed that the front was stronger than the 201st Russian Rifle Division. He also explained that the leaders of the PFT were unhappy about the turn of events after October 25, 1992, when the opposition reneged on its promise to hold the Sixteenth meeting of the Supreme Soviet in Khujand. If PFT were to return to Dushanbe, Ashurov warned, the city would be destroyed. As the person responsible for the security of the Russians who live in the republic, he could not allow that. He suggested that the National Assembly should accept the demands of the PFT and begin preparations for holding the meeting in Khujand very soon. Iskandarov and his associates discussed the situation and concluded that it would be to their advantage to comply with the demands of the PFT provided that they remain in power until the meeting of the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet publishes its decisions.74 On November 9, 1992, the Supreme Soviet issued a decree, signed by Iskandarov, confirming the meeting of the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan, twelfth convocation, to be held on November 16, 1992, in the city of Khujand.75 The decree was followed by a report issued by the GNR explaining the situation in the republic, the reasons for its resignation, and its hope for a prosperous Tajikistan: Report of the Head of the Supreme Soviet and the Government of Tajikistan to all the residents of the republic Dear Countrymen! The situation in the republic has been uneasy. It has become even more uneasy and chaotic during the past few days. The ongoing fratricide war has devastated the Vakhsh and Hisor valleys and refugees from all over fill the streets and alleys of the city of Dushanbe. More importantly, the danger of disintegration threatens the very fabric of the nation and the country. In view of all that, we, the heads of the Supreme Soviet and the government of Tajikistan have met, analyzed the 74 Ibid., 315–316. 75 Ibid., 317.

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According to Kenjaev, in the eleven days between Iskandarov’s promise of October 26, 1992 and the day he was forced to accept the PFT’s demands, the opposition committed horrendous atrocities in the cities of Dushanbe, Kofarnihon, Norak, as well as the regions of Hisori Shodmon, Qurghonteppa, and Danghara. As a result, many young men, women, and children were killed on both sides. Thousands became homeless, either by leaving the country and becoming refugees or by staying in the country as vagabonds. In addition, many governmental and private buildings were destroyed. Factories and institutions stopped operation. The damage to Tajikistan as a nation was in the billions of sums.77 After the date of the Sixteenth meeting in Khujand was announced, the southern commanders stopped communications with Kenjaev. Officials who 76 Ibid., 318–319. 77 Ibid., 316.

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had been in daily contact with him did not answer or return his calls. Kenjaev called the Executive Committee of Kulob and asked for its head, Emomali Rahmonov. Mahmadsaid Ubaidulloev, the assistant to the head of the Committee, and Qimat Rustamov told him that Rahmonov was in Qurghonteppa consulting with Sangak Safarov. They also said that Rahmonov had not left any directive regarding the departure of the Kulob deputies for Khujand.78 Kenjaev asked them to let Rahmonov know that he called and that he would be waiting for his call. However, Rahmonov did not call back. After that first call, all Kenjaev’s calls to Kulob remained unanswered. The thought of being double-crossed occurred to him once again, especially as during all the discussions with the Kulobis, the name of Emomali Rahmonov had never appeared as a participant in the southern affairs. What intrigued Kenjaev was that, to his knowledge, Langari Langariev, Sangak Safarov, and the commanders of the two PFT fronts had all shared one single objective: to return Rahmon Nabiev to his status before the May 7 coup.79 He wondered now at what point the Kulobis could have changed their mind. Their sudden halt in communication with him baffled Kenjaev.80 One day, before the meeting in Khujand, Kenjaev complained to Zafar Ikromov, a Kulobi friend, about the Kulobis, especially Emomali Rahmonov and the abrupt break up in his communication with him. As Kenjaev told Ikromov, he had been waiting for Rahmonov to call him and give him the itinerary for the trip to Khujand. But Rahmonov had not called. Ikromov advised Kenjaev that he should not wait for Rahmonov to call because it would be a waste of his time. Ikromov then explained the situation in which Kenjaev now found himself. Emomali Rahmonov and Sangak Safarov met the key representatives from Leninabad in Qurghonteppa. There they made their final decision regarding the shape of events in Khujand. Rahmonov and Safarov planned to use Kenjaev to take Iskandarov out of the equation, and that that task was accomplished. Kenjaev was now a spent bullet. Ikromov also told Kenjaev that the Kulobis had spent many dollars in order to paint a bad picture of Kenjaev to Tajikistan’s neighbors, diminishing his international posture.81 As for traveling to Khujand, Ikromov offered to take Kenjaev to Khujand in his car. 78 For cooperation between the Kulobis and the Khujandis, see Aziz Niyazi, “Tajikistan,” in Central Asia and the Caucasus after the Soviet Union, ed. M. Mesbahi (Miami: University Press, 1994), 164–190. 79 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 3, 321. 80 Ibid., 318–320. 81 Ibid., 322.

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In spite of his doubts, Kenjaev did not accept Ikromov’s analysis. He even became somewhat angry at his old friend. He refused to believe that the Kulobi brothers would deceive their Hisori brother in such manner.82 At the end of a somewhat long conversation, Ikromov realized that Kenjaev, in spite of having lost all his supporters and friends, such as Rustam Abdurahimov, Langari Langariev, Jonkhon Rizoev, Saifiddin Sangov, Suhrob Afghonov, Sherali Faizaliev, and Boturjon and Ikrom Ishoqov, was still not willing to concede. Therefore, he concluded the meeting without a definite result, waiting to see what the Sixteenth session in Khujand would reveal. In spite of their pledge before the Russian commanders, and in spite of calling the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan, twelfth convocation, for November 16, 1992, in Khujand, the GNR leaders were not ready to give up the reins of power.83 Rather, they planned, once again, to ignore their word and persuade the deputies in Dushanbe and Khujand to vote in their favor. In that regard, they introduced a number of hasty changes, including mounting attacks on Kulob and Hisor to bring them under their control. In the area of administration, the GNR secured the radio and television and reorganized the old cadres to supposedly meet Tajikistan’s new needs. They also introduced changes in the constitution to facilitate the enforcement of the required changes. For the military, they introduced reforms in order to unify and strengthen the armed forces. More importantly, they distributed funds among the existing units and, with the hope of persuading the 201st Russian Rifle Division to assist them in the coming battles, they provided furnished apartments for the leaders of the division. They also created a special fund to support war activities in general. Apparently, the GNR was positioned between two forces: the southern commanders who did not approve of the new government and the Hisor commanders of the PFT fronts. Out of helplessness, the GNR created two military forces, one to encounter the PFT in Hisor, and the other, led by Mullo Ajik, to invade Kulob via the Sharshar and eliminate the headquarters of the southern command. Neither succeeded. Commanders Faizali Saidov, Jomi, and the PFT soldiers defeated the opposition in Kulob and Hisor. Hundreds were killed on both sides in three days, but as a result, those holding the Sixteenth session in Khujand could rest assured that whatever they determined for the future of Tajikistan would be within reach. 82 Ibid., 328. 83 Ibid., 317; see text for details.

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Having eliminated the forces of Iskandarov and the GNR, Kenjaev entered the city of Khujand to participate in the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet.84 Although the reception that he received in Khujand was a surprise, given the words of Zafar Ikromov, it was not totally unexpected. To begin with, none of the military personnel related to his command was present at the entrance to the meeting to greet him. Those who were present looked upon him as the sole commander responsible for the deaths of all Tajik youths killed in the meaningless war. He was arrested and, for the next five days, was held as a hostage under house arrest. Here is how Kenjaev himself explains the situation: I was sitting in this very hall on November 24, 1992. I was handed a note saying, “Comrade Kenjaev, please go to the balcony. They are waiting for you there.” I went there. Two special security unit officers were there waiting for me. I knew one of them very well. They took me to the regional Executive Center in a car. From there, two other individuals, one of whom I knew, took me in a car in some direction and said that I should call some commanders and invite them to a meeting. I agreed. But, after we came to a house (from where I was supposed to make the calls), they did not allow me to make any calls. For five days, I was detained there uncertain about my situation. I told them I am a deputy, I have the right to participate in the meeting (of the Supreme Soviet), but they did not listen to me.85

In the meeting of the Supreme Soviet, too, things did not go well for Kenjaev. Nabiev, whom Kenjaev had hoped to reinstate to presidency, claimed that he did not receive an invitation to the meeting and was not given time to carry out his national and international engagements that would have improved life in Tajikistan. He then covered most of the events of the civil war, including Kenjaev’s role in them. At the end, he resigned for the last time, an official resignation without any pressure. As for Kenjaev, he was officially dismissed from the chairmanship of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan. Also dismissed were Akbar Turajonzoda, Saifiddin Turaev, and Asliddin Sohibnazar.86

84 Ibid., 329ff. 85 Karim, Fariod, 538. 86 Ibid., 537–541.

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THE ROLE OF KENJAEV IN THE CIVIL WAR Safarali Kenjaev began his career as a lawyer working in Dushanbe in an avtobaza (motor depot) as a prosecutor. His advocacy for transparency, human rights, and justice, especially in the context of Gorbachev’s perestroika and glasnost′, propelled him into politics. During the rule of Qahhor Mahkamov, a weak First Secretary, who had replaced almost all the native officials with cadres from the capital, he became a consultant to the president. In the long run, he became a critic of the Soviet system in general, and of Mahkamov’s government, in particular. At the end, he initiated a vote of non-confidence on Mahkamov (172 for removal, 124 against).87 After Mahkamov, Nabiev, an ambitious politician well-grounded in Tajikistan’s agro-industrial complex, brought Kenjaev within his orbit. Kenjaev helped Nabiev become the head of the Supreme Soviet and president. Kenjaev’s treatment of Aslonov, his tough stance against the clergy after the toppling of the Lenin statue, his revocation of the ban on the Communist Party, and his initiation of investigations on the activities of the Dushanbe Mayor Maqsud Ikromov boosted his popularity among the populations of Hisor valley, Kulob, and Khujand.88 When Nabiev became president, he had to decide whether Kenjaev should become his vice-president, head of the Supreme Soviet, or sent as an ambassador to some far-off country. Eventually, Kenjaev became the head of the Supreme Soviet. Before long, Nabiev, afraid that Kenjaev might eclipse him, gradually withdrew his support from his protégé, allowing the opposition to denigrate him. Furthermore, against Kenjaev’s advice, he met with the opposition Islamists in secret and established the GNR. The process, which required the resignation of Kenjaev and a few other officials, in the long run, proved detrimental to both Nabiev and the Communist Party. As for Kenjaev, he established the PFT, ostensibly to restore Nabiev to his pre-GNR status. The GNR and the PFT were reactions to the demands of the unhappy Tajik citizens who were worried about the state of affairs in the republic in the context of the turmoil in the Soviet Union. The uncertainty was best demonstrated by the two camps into which the Tajik deputies were divided. One camp supported the Soviet system even when led by incompetent leaders like Mahkamov. The other supported a pluralistic, secular society respecting human 87 Epkenhans, Origins, 34–35. 88 Cf. ibid., 149–150.

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rights, the rule of law, and democracy.89 The difference of opinion between these two mindsets, especially on the choice of a constitution—Shari’a-based laws or a secular, democratic legislation—led to the civil war. In what follows, we shall look at the role of Kenjaev in the civil war through the eyes of two Tajik analysts, Hikmatullo Nasriddinov and Buri Karim. We shall then follow that up with details in Kenjaev’s Tabaddulot, supported by a close analysis of the text. A number of decisions and events form the tapestry of Kenjaev’s involvement in the civil war. We will focus here on his most glaring shortcomings and mistakes. They include his inability to work as a subordinate member in a group; placing his whole trust in people he hardly knew; allowing incompetent liaisons to set the agenda; and above all, his lack of a thorough understanding of the complexity of the situation in which the Tajik people were finding themselves, that is, the larger context of the fall of the Soviet Union. After all, we saw how his commanders were upset with him and rebuked him for his lack of sound military judgment. Now, we shall first present the assessments of the two analysts, and then review the decisions and actions that guided Kenjaev’s rise and fall. Nasriddinov summarizes Kenjaev’s involvement in the civil war in a few general statements. He states that during the last days before the decision to hold the Sixteenth session in Khujand, the situation in the republic went from bad to worse. The opposition (read: the GNR) was not able to restore law and order. Kulob, Qurghonteppa, Leninabad, and the Hisor valley had dissociated themselves from the government and, in fact, were fighting it. For the ordinary people, it was difficult to distinguish the opposition from the government. The levers of power, however, were in the hands of the opposition. At the same time, the forces of Sangak Safarov threatened the city of Dushanbe from three sides. Additionally, a large force in Hisor, under commanders Jamoliddin Mansurov, Habibullo Nasrullo, and Faizullo Abdulloev, was threatening to enter Dushanbe. On October 24, 1992, an armed group of about five hundred soldiers led by Safarali Kenjaev entered Dushanbe. Rustam Abdurahimov, one of Tajikistan’s well-known musicians, was Kenjaev’s co-commander. Sangak Safarov, the commander of the National Front was not aware of Rustam Abdurahimov’s involvement with this group that originally had been set up by Zardakov. It is possible, Nasriddinov surmised, that Safarov had come to an understanding with Kenjaev regarding Abdurahimov’s involvement. According to a preconceived plan for invading Dushanbe, Langari Langariev and commander Jomi were scheduled to enter the city from Norak and 89 Ibid., 135.

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Faizali, coming from Vakhsh, was supposed to join them in Dushanbe. But, at the appointed time, neither group came to Kenjaev’s aid. After two days, Nasriddinov concludes, Rustam Abdurahimov and Kenjaev were defeated. When Sangak Safarov learned about the operation, he killed Jonkhon Rizoev, the liaison between the command in Hisor and the southern command. Rustam Abdurahimov, too, was abducted and killed. As for Kenjaev, he and his disarmed troops, left Dushanbe. Nasriddinov merely repeats the rumor that had been floating in Dushanbe since 1992. He does not mention either Kenjaev’s organization, his plans, or his motive. He also leaves out Kenjaev’s discussions with Akbarsho Iskandarov and his pleas to international leaders, trying to convince them that they should advise Iskandarov to hold the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet as soon as possible. Nasriddinov concludes, the unprincipled acts of Safarali Kenjaev were at the root of all the harmful political activities that took place in the republic in those days.90 Karim, who had read Kenjaev’s volumes, rhetorically asks: “What do we know about the PFT?” He then explains, according to the report of the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet held in Khujand, the front was established by Sangak Safarov on September 6, 1992. He then attributes the high respect that the deputies in Khujand paid to Safarov was due to his establishment of the PFT. Then, in the same breath, he adds, “Only when volume after volume of Kenjaev’s Tabaddulot (Coups d’État) appeared, it became known that Kenjaev had been the actual founder of the PFT.” Does Karim’s statement indicate that between August 28 and November 16 he was not aware of the existence of Kenjaev’s front? Otherwise he would know that an umbrella front, called after Kenjaev and led by Sangak Safarov, was taking credit for the efforts of Kenjaev and his commanders in Hisor, as shown later in this chapter. Karim reproduces a good portion of Kenjaev’s narrative related to the founding of the PFT. But his choice of selections, more importantly, his choice of selections not picked, mars his efforts. His presentation ends with the death of Rustam Abdurahimov. As for Kenjaev, he fled the scene.91 The opposition and the government of the time portrayed Kenjaev in a different light than Kenjaev had expected. In the Sixteenth session in Khujand, after he was allowed to participate and defend his actions, Kenjaev addressed 90 Cf., Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 195–197. 91 Ibid., 509–511.

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the deputies present in the meeting, especially those who were in a position to correct his assertions. But none of them reacted. No one provided the slightest indication that Kenjaev was skirting the truth. Here is an abstract from Kenjaev’s address: You are all witness to the fact that the opposition, using the official radio and television, has been destroying my reputation in the minds of the people. You are also witness that both the government and the Supreme Soviet are helping the opposition in this regard. Even in Khujand, they do not leave me alone. How long is this humiliation to last? What crime have I committed? They expelled me. I accepted. The opposition has spilled much blood. Why are those facts not highlighted and acknowledged? Since November 16, the radio and television have been referring to me as “blood-thirsty, evil, and wicked.” That kind of action does not help anyone or anything. It only stokes the fire of enmity. They accuse me of having sought high offices. They say when I was denied the office I demanded, I became disappointed. Consequently, they allege, I rallied the people of Hisor, Tursunzoda, and Shahrtus against the government, set fire to houses, and killed countless people. The head of the Supreme Soviet is present in this hall, the head of the Cabinet of Ministers is present, too. They can answer this question: Did I demand any position? … they further allege that I have killed the people of Charyakkoron, Uchkul, and Ghizhdatabad villages. I was born in those villages. How could I raise my hand against my own kin?92

Kenjaev’s Tabaddulot shows that he was always dedicated to his work, whether as a lawyer for the avtobaza, a common worker in the Anzob mine, or as a commander. In some of his undertakings, especially those not imposed on him, he did well. But he was not so successful when a task outside his area of expertise was imposed on him. He was a simple lawyer. It should not come as a surprise that he failed as a military commander in a civil war environment. Kenjaev’s plan was flawed from its foundation. It was the wrong plan for the Tajikistan of the 1990s. The goal of the plan was to create a military force that could restore Rahmon Nabiev to his status before May 7. But at the time that Kenjaev was putting his plan together, Nabiev was a lone figure, abandoned by the communists and the Islamists for his incompetence. When conceiving 92 For the full text of Kenjaev’s statement, see Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 214–215.

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the plan, Kenjaev did not ask himself what had brought Nabiev, and himself, to their present positions. He did not question whether, given his military victory, the representatives of the people of Tajikistan would want to continue working with the decadent Soviet system. The military command that he created on his own authority did not have any official or legal standing. It was equal to a detached branch of the southern command, given the same title which speaks in favor of the southerners. Indeed, in the end it was subsumed by the southern command. As mentioned above, the southern command had two wings: a military wing that carried out the war in Kulob and Qurghonteppa, and a political wing that carried out the organizational relations of the command. The latter kept in touch with like-minded representatives in the GNR’s National Assembly, synthesized the demands of many political parties, and found common ground among them. It also provided a list of donors that were willing to invest in Tajikistan once the crisis was over so that systemic reforms could be implemented. Kenjaev had neither their diplomatic skills, nor their knack for thorough planning. At the end, he was singled out as a disrupter. His shooting his way into Dushanbe became a symbol of bravado at the expense of the youth of Hisor and showed Kenjaev as an incompetent general. This was more the opinion of his own colleagues than an assessment of the general public. The following activities round up Kenjaev’s short stint as a war commander. The first mistake that he made in the military field was that he did not connect properly and firmly with the commanders in the south. Neither did he confirm his command with the GNR, the government of the time, as illegitimate as it was in his eyes. He satisfied himself with the approval of the elders of Khujand but that was not sufficient. This lack of connection gave the others sufficient grounds to accuse Kenjaev of being a rogue commander and blame all atrocities, real or imagined, on him. More importantly, against the advice of his commanders, he gave away the weapons that his command needed, to a rival, in reality a “shadow” command, claiming legitimacy through the GNR. The leaders of that command intended to dismantle all the vestiges of Soviet rule in Tajikistan, including the structures that supported Nabiev, himself, and the other members of the old nomenklatura and the cadre systems. Nevertheless, he wholeheartedly supported Sangak Safarov because he intimidated the GNR leaders. Furthermore, Kenjaev ignored the fact that the new generation of Tajik politicians was assisted by Russia, Iran, and the leaders of CIS, backed by the United Nations and world-wide funding agencies. Those countries and institutions were ready to assist Tajikistan

The Government of National Reconciliation

because they did not wish to see another Afghanistan north of the old one. Through Rizoev and Abdurahimov, they depleted Kenjaev’s arsenal and sent him to Dushanbe on terms that they dictated through Rizoev. Finally, Kenjaev’s general strategy to win the war was flawed. He had a good understanding of both communism and Islam. He also was aware that the communists would do anything to eliminate Islam, especially if the Islam that confronted them was of the strict and uncompromising variety. As mentioned, Kenjaev blurred the distinction between radical Hanafism and Wahhabism and spread rumors claiming that Tajiks were essentially Wahhabis. His Tajik audience, recently freed from atheism and communism, did not know the difference. Their investigation into Wahhabism invoked the specter of Saudi Arabia, a place well known for its strict adherence to the letter of the Qur’an. Again, Kenjaev failed to realize that the conflict between Wahhabism, real or created, and communism was no longer a viable enough strategy to sustain the Tajikistan that the progressive Tajiks strove to build. In other words, he failed to see that Shari’a-based and communist-based constitutions were relics of the past. Tajikistan needed a secular government, a functional parliament, and a charismatic leader, one very much unlike Safarali Kenjaev or Rahmon Nabiev. In the region, an analogous situation to Kenjaev’s is the case of Enver Pasha. He came to Bukhara at the end of World War I to help the amirs against Soviet aggression. The weapons his soldiers used against Soviet cannons were old Russian rifles.93 That shortcoming, however, pales against Enver’s lack of recognition of the immensity of social, political, and cultural changes that were converging in Bukhara, opposed to the autocratic rule of the Manghit amirs.

93 Bashiri, “Enver Pasha,” 651–657.

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CHAPTER 6

Reinventing the Wheel INTRODUCTION

T

he civil war destroyed southern Tajikistan and affected the north adversely. In fact, within its limited scope, it resulted in a large number of casualties and deaths.1 The greatest loss incurred, however, was in the number of people who were made homeless or who became refugees. The Tajiks themselves termed it a war in which brother killed brother (jangi barodar kush). It was a war in the course of which the Tajiks killed some of their best scholars such as academician Muhammad Osimi;2 reporters such as the head of the BBC’s Persian Service bureau in Dushanbe Muhiddin Olimpur; cinematographers like Saif Rahim; and lawyers like Nurullo Huvaidulloev, just to name a few.3 The chapter casts a brief look at the root causes of the war brought about by the imposition of the Soviet system on an unprepared Tajik society. It identifies some of the main causes, analyzes them, and draws attention to others. It further surveys the Tajiks’ response to the chaos that ensued the fall of the Soviet Union in the form of a large number of political parties, cultural movements, and military fronts. It shows, for instance, how a coalition of democratic and Islamic forces penetrated the upper echelon of the government of Tajikistan, undermined its authority, and replaced it with a constitution that draws on the values set by local parties, movements, and military fronts.

THE CAUSES OF THE CIVIL WAR Most historians trace the breakout of the civil war in Tajikistan to a specific event that happened immediately before the onset of the hostilities. For instance, one 1 For a partial list of those who lost their lives, see Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 3, 361–394. 2 For the biography of Osimi (also Osimov), see Bashiri, Prominent figures, 247–248. 3 See also Khatloni and Istaravshani, Tufon, 3.

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could attribute the onset to Nabiev’s distribution of arms among the Kulobis, or, like Haji Akbar Turajonzoda, suggest that the civil war was a response to Islam’s (read: Turajonzoda’s) popularity among the people, a reaction inspired by fear that Turajonzoda would seize the levers of power.4 Jamshid, a friend that I had known since my first days in Tajikistan, summed it up as the consequences of perestroika, glasnost′, and giving the IRPT national status.5 An observer of the events in Tajikistan of the early 1990s, the last year before the collapse of the Soviet Union, before Nabiev’s distribution of weapons, before Turajonzoda’s rise in popularity, and before perestroika and glasnost′ were fully realized in the republic, could have no doubts that some kind of calamity would emerge in Tajikistan. People were on edge; their grievances had to surface somehow and be addressed. After about eight days in Dushanbe, in April 1990, I wrote a short, impressionistic piece called “Pagoh … Pagoh” (Tomorrow … Tomorrow) expressing my reaction, as a visitor, to what the Tajiks were experiencing.6 The piece depicted two young boys, one standing on the shoulders of the other peering over a wall and describing what was happening on the other side. There was a dam about to break and a village downstream that could be wiped out. In recent times, the villagers had been putting off a plan to mend the dam, repeating pagoh … pagoh. As the boy watched, the dam broke and a deluge washed the village away. Ironically, within the next two years, the lives of thousands of Tajiks, young and old men, women, and children were destroyed by the civil war. Additionally, the flowering agro-industrial complex, the result of seventy years of Soviet enterprise in Qurghonteppa, was also destroyed. The deluge that wiped out the village came about as a result of the accumulation of water from many rivers, brooks, and rivulets. When the amount of water in the reservoir became overwhelming, disaster hit. Similarly, the Tajik civil war that had been in the making for at least seventy years had its own rivers and rivulets. They inundated the sea of hate and distrust that was held back by ordinary Tajiks. Certainly Nabiev’s distribution of arms among the Kulobis, Turajonzoda’s rise in popularity, as well as the new policy of perestroika and glasnost′ were contributing factors. But were they the main cause? The reason for the breakout of the war was lodged much deeper in the psyche of the Tajiks. Karomatullo Olimzoda summarizes the causes for the civil war in his country 4 Turajonzoda, Mioni Obu Otash, 86–89. 5 For the text of the conversation, see Appendix. 6 Bashiri, “Pagoh … Pagoh,” see newspaper section in Bibliography.

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as follows. After perestroika and glasnost′, the communist leaders in Moscow abandoned their responsibilities towards the republics. Their actions resulted in drastic changes affecting the social, political, and economic affairs of the republics. At the same time, the local leaders, too, were not prepared to cope with the new realities. They lacked the charisma required to shoulder the awesome task of leading an independent republic. Additionally, the parties that appeared at the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s were not only populist in nature, but also heavily influenced by forces from outside the republic. Also, there were other phenomena at work. For the first time in nearly seventy years, religion gravitated towards politics. This would have been fine if the religious leaders were politicians as well; but that was not the case. Moreover, perennial regionalism employed by political leaders against each other, and each other’s supporters, was creating much hatred and enmity. On top of all that, the republic’s vulnerability placed it at the mercy of those who did not want Tajikistan to become independent. The war in Afghanistan and the uneasy situation in countries that shared language, religion, and culture with the Tajiks contributed to the general worsening of political climate.7 There were also seductive media reports that shaped the mindset of the people of Tajikistan, increasing their discontent. Within the republic, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the presidential guard took a neutral stance, but it was easily transformed into assistance to the opposition. The rapid empowerment of the mafia, leading to many murders and confiscations of property, further contributed to the national unease.8 It is obvious from Olimzoda’s analysis many factors were involved, some coming from the outside, some brewing on the inside. Many concerns were time-based. Some issues surfaced for the first time in the past seventy years, while some exposed the extent of the damage incurred and called for restoration. Since the issues are many and their discussion can become lengthy and repetitive, we shall briefly exemplify three major ones: regionalism, nationalism, and the treatment of Hanafi Islam. The difficulties of the Tajiks, Soviet as well as Muslim, with the Soviet system began very early, as western, progressive ideas and traditional Islamic values clashed in Tajikistan. As we have seen, in the early stages of this interaction, Tatar translators provided the Russians with almost all the information they 7 Olimzoda is indirectly referring to Iran. 8 Karomatullo Olimzoda, “Vahdati Milli: Dastovardi Buzurgi Ta’rikhii Khalqi Tojik,” Vahdat, Davlat, Prezident 5 (2007): 58–59; see also Emomali Rahmonov, Tojikiston: Chahor Soli Istiqloliyat va Khudshinosi (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1995), 23–30; 71.

Reinventing the Wheel

needed to understand the Tajik identity. This information, it turned out, was biased. The Tatars promoted Turkish culture monolithically, and introduced the Turks as the predominant population of the region. They did not provide a favorable account of the Tajiks, either concerning their past history, or concerning their contemporary needs and aspirations. Consequently, the Soviets, who came after the Russians, treated the Tajiks as an ignorant lot, squelched their cherished traditions and drove them away from the centers of their culture until they ended up in the Kuhiston. Thus, a vacuum was created in Tajik society, which resulted in a struggle for identity, on the part of the Tajiks, and in program after program of suppression, on the part of Soviet authorities. In order to move its affairs forward, the government of the Soviet Union used two distinct systems: the nomenklatura and the cadres. The nomenklatura consisted of high-ranking communist members who held the key supervising positions in the administration of both the center and the republics. Even though they were in charge of social, political, cultural, and economic affairs, in general, they did not deal with the public directly. The cadres, on the other hand, were like-minded individuals who specialized in particular aspects of the life of the Union and the republics. In the case of Tajikistan, for instance, the first secretaries were chosen from among the cadre of Soviet politicians. Once in Tajikistan, the first secretary created his own cadres from among Soviet and Tajik politicians, academicians, ziois, economists, and the like. Using the complementary systems of the nomenklatura and the cadres, the communist society created a binary mode of government based on conflict resulting in the survival of the fittest. That mode of government claimed to be equitable but the equality it provided was in the context of intimidation that rises from fear of self-imposed authority. The authority was given by the people who themselves, in time, became its victims. That was the case because authority figures, when installed, not only took measures, but also followed them until thorough resolution. On the way to that final resolution, they used all the means at their disposal. The victims tolerated the initial hardship due to their firm belief in the authorities’ promise that they would provide a tranquil life in the not-too-distant future, if not for the current generation, then for their children and grandchildren. The source of authority in the communist government was its ideology and the institutions that it spawns, first of all, the communist party. The communist party then used the nomenklatura and the cadre systems mentioned above to create constructive conflict among the rank and file, a dynamic on which the system thrives. These conflicts were created at the state, local, and family levels.

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The diverse settings of the conflicts included farms (agriculture), the factory (industry), the academia (education), and the like. Like the Communist Manifesto, the factors that underlay the conflicts looked quite innocent and harmless at the first sight. In fact, they were diabolical. Consider equality in the context of merit. The harm of this policy became obvious only when the system failed. Only then, the pyramid of inequality created by equality through merit was visible in its full form. For the Tajiks, in 1990, it was a painful realization: for seventy years, they had toiled, shipped the essence of their labor in the form of bales of cotton and wagonloads of coal to the Soviet centers in exchange for receiving meager provisions. More painful was the fact that while they were working, their own orchards died and their wheat fields remained fallow. More importantly, their children had been directed towards the arts and the cotton fields, rather than towards science and technology. In a communist state with the claim of creating an equitable society for all to live in harmony, the nomenklatura was an anathema. It was tolerated in the early stages of nation building as a means of organizing affairs. The euphoria that accompanied building the Soviet land and Soviet man sustained it, and it lingered much longer than expected. In the fifties and sixties, the nomenklatura consolidated its power through the manipulation of the cadres, especially in relation to reaching out to other nations, suppressing the growth of alterative ideologies, and expression of cultural sentiments. This was possible because, by then, the cadres themselves had become very powerful. For instance, in their time, the first secretaries of Tajikistan were literally worshiped by their communist followers.9 In later decades, especially in the late 1980s and early 1990s in Tajikistan, the nomenklatura became an albatross around the neck of the republic leaders. The insistence on the language rule that prohibited speaking Tajiki in public, the imposition of atheism whereby Islamic movements were banned and dissidents were incarcerated, and the arbitrary shifting of the cadres, irrespective of the needs of the republic antagonized the Tajiks. As the cadres took positions of importance, all such places were placed out of the reach of the ordinary Tajiks, especially for those who refused to become card-carrying members of the CPT. This is how the system worked. In each Soviet republic, it was the second secretary that made all the important decisions for the republic. He was sent by Moscow, accompanied by his own 9

Cf. Geoffrey Hosking, The Awakening of the Soviet Union (Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1990), 100.

Reinventing the Wheel

commanders, justice system, and militia. The decisions of his group necessarily tended to favor those supported by the central administration rather than by the wishes of the republic’s government or the needs of the people of the republic. Needless to say, the supporters of the second secretary were non-Tajik Soviets. The first secretaries were chosen from among the cadre ranks in Moscow. They were ethnic Tajiks but, except for a few, they were not distinguished for their intellectual abilities or administrative skills. Their obedience and dependence on directives from above made them reliable contributors to the system. When in position, the first secretaries were provided with a comfortable surrounding, but they had no job security. Therefore, a good portion of their concerns were directed towards maintaining their positions, which meant keeping those above them in rank happy at any cost. On the surface, it seemed that they were working very hard for the improvement of the lives of the masses, but in reality, they were safeguarding their own positions and the places of those in their clan. They also safeguarded the interests of those who had helped them become significant in the eyes of the Communist Party in the first place. Under the circumstances, it was natural that the people who occupied key positions in the government often lacked the basic knowledge necessary to deal with the tasks they were assigned. In other words, people who had not been trained in statecraft, incapable, and inexperienced, ended up making difficult decisions about vital issues at the national level. It is understandable that such individuals looked back on their past practices and made decisions that were advantageous to their own family and clan, as well as, if necessary, to the families and associates of their bosses and directors. They were not worried about safeguarding the integrity of the state. In order to move their agenda forward, they were ready to tell lies, cheat, and pay bribes. Moreover, the first secretary was usually a Tajik from the north (Leninabad at the time). It meant that the remaining key positions in the republic, irrespective of merit, were given to northerners. Lower positions, too, were filled in a similar manner. Consider the amount of hostility that these bad practices of resource management and decision-making would generate among the populace? Add to that the ramifications of filling all positions at the kolkhozes, sovkhozes, factories, as well as the educational, medical, and other institutions in that same manner. It meant not only the people who pushed forward the agriculture, industry, and academia came from the north, but also that their supporters (directors, managers, and so on) would be northerners also. Furthermore, consider that by the 1990s, the north had had this advantage over the south for seventy years. What would a reasonable reaction be for an ordinary individual from the south

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against the north, especially one with a head for politics? Would not the southerners, given a chance, individually and collectively, revolt against such a system, especially when that system innocently wore the mask of equality for all? Would this not create frustration and hatred in the people of the south against the people of the north? Vosse once made a similar remark about his friendship with Jamshid. “We were comrades,” he had said, “not friends.” Regionalism is often identified as one of the reasons for the break out of the civil war. Nasriddinov considers it the main reason for the explosion that engulfed Tajik society after seventy years of Soviet rule.10 A major feature of regionalism was its ability to mask the inequities that it perpetuated through intimidation. Individuals did not discuss that question in the same way that they complained about shortages, or other aspects of life in the republic. An invisible aura of intimidation and fear kept assertions about regionalism in check. I remember one day in Dushanbe, one of my acquaintances was on his way to visit a colleague. Since I was with him he asked if I wanted to go along. I agreed. On the way, he told me bluntly that he intensely detested the person we were going to see. That being an unsolicited confession, I asked why. He said, because he was from the north. I asked whether that was the only reason. He said it was. As it turned out, it was not this particular individual my acquaintance detested. He detested all northerners; because, as he explained, for the past seventy years, they had occupied all the key positions. He detested that individual because, as a southerner, my acquaintance was going to his office to literally beg him for funds to meet the needs of a legitimate project. Moreover, the northerner lacked any insight into what the project was about, yet his agreement or disagreement was crucial for the project to receive funds. The astonishing fact for me was that if my acquaintance had not alerted me to his feelings regarding that official, I would never have been able to detect any trace of these sentiments. Their dialogue sounded like an amicable conversation between two officials, the likes of which I had heard many times before. This was an instance of hidden dispute among individuals. There were also regional disputes often heightened by the leaders. For instance, Nabiev in his presidential campaign would call Khujand and Kulob “brother cities.” In any other country that would have been normal. But here, he showed his preference for communists against non-communists. With that kind of attitude, how did he expect, as president, to foster unity in the republic?11 There had been many 10 Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 15ff. 11 Cf. Sohibnazar, Subh, 27.

Reinventing the Wheel

such instances. The Kulobis hated the Qurghonteppagis because the Soviets had poured a considerable amount of funds and provided all kinds of expertise for the development of Qurghonteppa as a model agro-industrial region. Kulob was systematically denied assistance.12 Even a railroad that went from Qurghonteppa to Kulob had difficulty getting funds. There was a similar tension between the Kulobis and the Badakhshanis. Such type of animosities bred the atrocities that led to the civil war. Those were the roots of the economic, cultural, societal inequities on which the Soviet system had thrived, and because of which the Tajik people had suffered. They made the people of the Kuhiston to take up arms against each other in what they themselves called jangi barodar kush. For a short time, a communist brother would fight against a Muslim brother within the same family, or a Wahhabi father would fight against his own son, or neighbors would fight against each other. In 1990, it was impossible to meet a group of Tajiks and not become involved in their nationality discussions. They no longer liked the Russians and the other non-Tajiks who, in large numbers, were moving to Russia and various Soviet republics in Eastern Europe. The recent change in the language law that had made Tajiki the official language within five years had accelerated their departure. By the 1990s, the regionalism that the communists had promoted through the nomenklatura and the cadre systems in order to exploit the resources of the south with the assistance of people from the north had become unacceptable. Similarly, the sham sense of nationalism that ignored or discarded the rich historical heritage of the Tajiks could no longer be tolerated. The Tajik youth, in particular, had become sensitive about their heritage. Once, in a Dushanbe bookstore, a young person directly confronted me regarding language use. Inquiring about the price of a book, I casually used the word ruble. A young man who stood in the line behind me asked me if I knew in what country I was. I said, in Tajikistan. He asked then why I was not using the language of the country I was in. I realized that I had used the Russian word ruble instead of the Tajiki sum. I apologized, but that did not satisfy the man, who moved closer to me. My guide came to my defense. I was a foreigner, he said, and a guest. Eventually, the young man quieted down and I could go about my business. Imagine being in Kulob or Badakhshan at that time and making such a mistake while talking to young people. Language was then one of the factors that led to the death of many Kulobis and Badakhshanis, even though they were not foreigners. 12 Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 36–38.

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The Tajiks were also not happy with the Uzbeks. They accused the Uzbeks of having taken over Samarqand and Bukhara, two of their cultural centers. Their argument was that they had been forced out of those centers by the Soviets through the application of badly devised administrative divisions in 1924, to which some Tajiks, too, had contributed. It was now up to the Uzbeks, the Tajiks would say, to rectify that mistake. The Uzbeks, on the other hand, contended that the Tajiks are a Turkish people and kin to the Uzbeks, but, for some unknown reason in the past, they had lost their language. On that basis, they claimed that not only those cities, but also prominent figures like Ibn Sina, al-Farabi, Ferdowsi, and many others belonged to the Uzbeks. It was obvious that Tajiks did not have the means to deal either with the Russians, or the Uzbeks. By the same token, it was obvious that they could not keep their sentiment about their language and culture in check for much longer. Earlier I mentioned the bookstore incident in relation to language use. That happened within Tajikistan, but I had a similar experience outside of Tajikistan. Tajiks were insisting that their language should also be used in the territory where Tajiks used to live, but which now belonged to Uzbekistan. I was part of a group of scholars attending a symposium in Dushanbe. As part of the symposium program we were taken to Samarqand. At Samarqand airport, we were welcomed with the usual bread and flowers. A group of musicians and dancers entertained us. But, as we were leaving for the city, our buses were stopped at the exit gate. After a few minutes, the bus drivers and group leaders went to the office to find out the reason for the delay. The Tajik and Uzbek authorities were deciding which language, Tajiki or Uzbek, should be used as the main language to describe Samarqand to the guests. The Uzbeks insisted that since Uzbek was the language of the republic, it should be used and translated into Tajiki. The Tajiks were adamant that since the guests all know Tajiki, there was no need for a second language. After a long delay, the “elder brother” stepped in. Russian, the Soviet authorities decided, should be used and translated into Uzbek and Tajiki.13 The third issue to discuss concerning Tajik culture is the imposition of atheism on the Muslim Tajiks. Most of those writing about the causes of the civil war in Tajikistan, such as Tim Epkenhans, mention Islam in passing rather than examining the ramifications that the suppression of the free expression of their religious sentiments had on the people. Moreover, except for professionals like Kenjaev, who used his knowledge of Islam for political purposes, 13 Iraj Bashiri, “Neither Tajik, Nor Uzbek: Russian,” AACAR Bulletin 4, no. 1 (1991): 7–8.

Reinventing the Wheel

the Tajiks themselves had no notion of what Islam really was. Perestroika and glasnost’ opened the eyes of the Tajiks to the reality of Islam, but they could not restore what seventy years of mankurtization14 had done to their ideology. That is why it is essential to complement a discussion of regionalism and nationalism with a discussion of Islam in post-Soviet Tajikistan as a cause of the breakout of the civil war. As mentioned earlier, unbeknownst to the ordinary Soviets, a vibrant community of radical Hanafis had appeared in southern Tajikistan as soon as the atheism propaganda began in the republic. We have given a description of this community and followed the development of the careers of some of its leaders. We have shown that, in spite of the harsh circumstances that prevailed in the Soviet Union regarding ideologies other than communism, the Islamists established a rudimentary circle called Liberated Youth Organization. Although that happened some fourteen years prior to the actual confrontation between the Shari’a and communist ideology, its existence as a bone of contention cannot be ignored. Perestroika and glasnost’ showed the Tajiks that it is necessary to remake their lives and express their hidden sentiments to large audiences, such as the United Nations. But what did perestroika and glasnost’ mean to the Tajiks? Perestroika at the Union level meant freedom and eventual independence for the republics. In the case of Tajikistan, it brought a gift that none of the powers before the Bolshevik revolution had bestowed on them. Specifically, it meant that the Tajiks were no longer obliged to follow the rules of the CPSU. That freedom, however, did not translate immediately into a Tajik perestroika: the Tajiks still had to abide by the rules imposed by the CPT. This change was not yet earned. To achieve it, non-communist Tajiks had to penetrate the ranks of the CPT, as the freedom fighters in Moscow had done, and dismantle the Tajik cadre system from within. Glasnost’ at the Union level meant that all citizens were now free to choose what to believe and the freedom to express their ideas openly and defend them. The citizens of the Soviet Union, for instance, mostly abandoned atheism for Orthodox Christianity. They frequented churches and openly professed the faith. In Tajikistan the same thing happened only a few years later. The Tajiks 14 Mankurtization is a process that, according to Chingiz Aitmatov, changes a person into an unthinking slave without memory, when his head, wrapped in camel skin, is exposed to the hot sun. See Chingiz Aitmatov, The Day Lasts More than a Hundred Years (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983), 124 ff.

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abandoned imposed atheism for Islam. But what did Islam mean to most Tajiks in the early 1990s? It reminds me of a discussion in a Dushanbe teahouse between two of my Tajik friends, one an atheist and the other a Muslim, both educated. They were arguing over what Islam actually meant. The atheist was trying to convince the Muslim that they were both on the same wave length with only a minute difference. The difference, he explained, was that the Muslim believed in God and he, as an atheist, did not! Ironically, in the same discussion, the atheist was telling us that he was making preparations to travel to Mecca on foot. The danger that lurked behind that conversation was palpable. In those days in Tajikistan almost anything could pass as Islam due to general ignorance about religious trends and movements. The point, however, is that the sects differ a great deal in their fundamentals. Kenjaev, for instance, promoted the idea that Tajiks were Wahhabis. He even equated the mainstream Hanafi faith of the Sunni Tajiks to the fundamentalist Shi’ite creed of the Islamic Republic of Iran. He warned the Tajiks that if Islam came to Tajikistan, they would be treated as harshly as the Iranians, especially women, were treated by Iran’s ruling clerics. There is a lot in Kenjaev’s assertions that is correct, especially regarding the social situation in Iran and Saudi Arabia. But as a comment on Tajik heritage, his statement leaves much to be desired. Recall that the Tajiks under discussion were misrepresented to the Russians by the Tatars as an ignorant lot. The Soviets, too, treated them with the same notion in mind. They cut the Tajiks away from the legacy bequeathed to them by their ancestors, a legacy that was in the past a beacon guiding other civilizations. Over decades, the Tajiks forgot how they respected and promoted diversity of opinion, how they cherished human rights and promoted javonmardi (chivalry). They used to love their fellow Tajiks, were generous to each other and to guests, and resolved their problems through aksakal circles. The Soviets made those values obsolete. More importantly, they introduced other values such as regionalism, nationalism, and atheism, contrary to the principles that had upheld the Tajik identity over centuries. Additionally, the Soviets had used the ignorance that they had perpetuated through alphabet change in Tajik society to manipulate the very meaning of their Hanafi Islam. The addition of Wahhabi elements to radical Hanafism, had changed the very essence of the latter. Some Tajiks, in 1990, believed that they were Wahhabis, but they did not know quite what Wahhabism meant. Nevertheless, communist social engineers went even further and poisoned the minds of communist Tajiks and non-Tajiks stating that, as Wahhabis, some Muslim

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Tajiks were importing Wahhabi Shari’a law into Tajikistan. Turajonzoda’s bad fame was due to this misconstruction of Islam by the Soviet propagandists. On the subject of interviews, it should be mentioned that sometimes chance meetings turned out to be much more productive than arranged interviews. My discussions with Qodir are a case in point. I was visiting the Qoziyyot in Dushanbe to talk to the Mufti. In spite of the fact that he had agreed to meet with me, the Mufti was not there. I waited, but he did not show up. A young man approached me and asked if I was the American who wanted to see the Mufti. I said I was. He said the Mufti was not coming in today. The young man wanted to ask me a question, to which I agreed. “Do you know Hofiz Jaksin?” He asked. “I might,” I said, trying to understand the question. The only Hafiz I knew was the famed fourteenth century poet. As the conversation proceeded I realized that he was using hofiz as a word meaning reciter and singer. He was referring to the American singer Michael Jackson. While talking about Hofiz Jaksin, I tried to ask him questions about people that he knew, such as Said Abdullo Nuri, whom I had distinguished as a potential major player in Tajikistan’s future, but he did not seem willing to talk. Some time later, I met the same young man in Kulob. This time he was more willing to talk about politics. He called himself Qodir, but I do not think that was his real name. Later on, when I asked my friends about him, nobody knew him. Nevertheless, the information that he provided was very useful for my understanding the role that Kenjaev played in the interactions with the Islamic groups in Tajikistan.15 During the late 1980s, the Soviet Union was undergoing drastic changes. Naturally its concern for the republics was affected, as were the quality and the capability of the individuals it sent to the republics, including those appointed to leadership positions. The earlier leaders, such as Ghafurov and Rasulov, were evidently greater than Mahkamov and Nabiev. The latter lacked the foresight and the charisma necessary for leadership under harsh circumstances. But, would it be correct to state that their actions caused the Tajik civil war? Certainly not. Tajikistan is a beautiful country with abundant water, mineral, and agricultural resources.16 Those resources, if handled properly, had the potential of 15 For the text of the conversations see the Appendix. 16 Cf. Qurbon Vose’, Siosati Davlati va Vahdati Melli, vol. 1 (Dushanbe: Ilm Publishers, 2012), 181–185.

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providing a prosperous life to every Tajik. The abundance of resources in a region, however, can be a plight as much as a blessing, depending on circumstances. They can easily become the reason for mighty neighbors to take over and create a calamity for the owners where prosperity could have ruled. The riches in the Tajik soil prompted the Soviet Union to enter the lives of the people of Tajikistan and enslave them. Using social engineering as outlined above, and other detrimental techniques, the Soviet State undermined Tajik identity, controlled the population using a web of conflicts generated through regionalism, nationalism, ideological manipulation, and other subtle means for a period of seventy years. The civil war in Tajikistan was a reaction from an awakened community to its plight by ones who had brought the calamity on them in the first place. Perestroika and glasnost’ were not the cause of the civil war in Tajikistan, but they ignited it.17

POLITICAL PARTIES OF TAJIKISTAN Between 1924 and the 1970s, the Communist Party was the only party in Tajikistan. In the mid-1970s, a youth group involved in clandestine Islamic activities against the CPT in Qurghonteppa reacted against the atrocities perpetuated by the system. During the late 1980s and early 1990s, a plethora of parties and movements appeared on the Tajik politico-cultural scene. In the mid-1990s, the most important of those parties and movements formed the United Tajik Opposition (UTO) against the government. What follows is a brief history of some of those parties and movements. The history of the political parties and peoples’ movements in Tajikistan began with the Ru ba Ru (Face to Face) clique established by the Tajik youth. Soon after another clique called Ma’rifat (Knowledge) was founded by the members of the Writers Union of Tajikistan. The first substantial step in this regard was taken by the founders of the Rastokhiz (Renaissance) party in 1989, followed by the Democratic Party of Tajikistan in 1990. The party was registered in 1991. The IRPT, with fourteen years of clandestine activity in its past, was approved by the Supreme Soviet in 1991. The year 1992 witnessed the emergence of some seventy political, cultural, ideological, and military parties, movements, and fronts in the republic. In addition, there were nine nationality movements outside the republic trying 17 For a comparison between the Soviet ways and the new, democratic approach, see Sohibnazar, Subh, 99.

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to break through the suppressive measures of the Soviet State regarding expression of religious belief, celebration of cultural heritage, and the like. Additionally, there were eighteen political parties inside the republic. They included the CPT; the Democratic Party of Tajikistan; the IRPT; Peoples Congress of Tajikistan; the “Lenin and Nation” Assembly; the Rastokhiz People’s Movement; the La’li Badakhshon (Ruby of Badakhshan) Movement; People’s Unity Party; the Economic Freedom Party; Tajikistan Patriots Party; Laborers Party; Republican Party of Tajikistan; Farmers Democratic Party of Tajikistan; Peoples Party of Tajikistan; Saving the Homeland Front; and the Democratic Reforms Party.18 Alongside those political parties, there were fifteen public political parties, fourteen regional and area organizations, eleven national minorities organizations, and eight religious organizations. Not all of those parties and movements were either significant or influential. In the following, we shall examine the structure and purpose of the most important of those parties, with emphasis on those that contributed the most to shaping the future of Tajikistan.19 The Communist Party of Tajikistan was founded in 1924. It was temporarily banned in September 1991 by the Supreme Soviet but reinstated in January 1992.20 The chairman of the party was Shodi Shabdolov. The membership of the party before September 1991 was 125,000. After January 1992, it was reduced to 7,000. The party had four publications, all printed and distributed from Dushanbe. The publications were: Jumhuriyyat (The Republic); Nadoi Ranjbar (Worker’s Voice); Golos Tazhikistana (Voice of Tajikistan); and Tajikistan Ovozi (Voice of Tajikistan, Uzbek version). The party was funded through membership fees, industrial properties, enterprises, and donations. The objectives of the party included building a civil society, supporting the independence of Tajikistan, establishing the principles of social justice and democracy, and developing cooperation with other nations of the world. Other objectives included a parliament with 130 or 140 members and two houses: the House of Republic, representing politicians from various regions and the House of Nationalities, representing ethnic minorities; creating a combination of market and planned economy; and privatization of all kolkhozes and sovkhozes. The Communist Party intended to keep good relations with all countries; adopt the economic models of Sweden, the Netherlands, China, Singapore, and 18 Karim, Fariod, 482–483. 19 Ibid., 482–484; Ramonov, “Vahdati Melli,” 64–65. 20 See Hetmanek, “Islamic Revolution,” 367–368.

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North Korea; not interfere in internal affairs of other nations; and stay on the good side of Russia. Internally, it intended to create a parliament with representatives from all the regions of the republic. In the early 1990s, the Communist Party was fractured. Not all its members were as dedicated to the cause, or the system, as they had been. Some felt a strong desire to support Islam, while others felt they could no longer pretend obeisance to European, especially Russian, communists. In that regard, the membership of the CPT could be categorized as follows: about 30% of the membership were referred to as mankurt, or ignorant (again, after Aitmatov), communists. It was thought that this group had lost its link with its past and slavishly carried out the dictates of its superiors. Unlike the mankurt, the matin (steadfast) ones, about 20%, were true communists. They were fully familiar with the history, dogma, and the ideals of the movement and continued to believe that the Party had a positive role to play in the future of Tajikistan. The haromkhor (profiteer) communists, also about 20% of the membership, owed their livelihood to the system. They did anything necessary to safeguard their jobs and financial well-being. The eslomi (Islamic) communists, about 10%, were hardline communists who believed that Islam and communism had much in common and, therefore, could coexist. Originally, these individuals used communism to safeguard their traditional Tajik values. The ozodikhoh (democratic) communists, 20% of the membership, were Tajikistan’s hope for a stable and prosperous future. Like the steadfast communists, they were fully familiar with communist principles and ideals; however, they believed that democracy had to be earned rather than dictated from above. Ironically, due to a lack of space for development and heightened xenophobia, a majority of them— mostly Russian—left Tajikistan.21 During this time, Tajikistan was enmeshed in a war of ideologies. However, the core of its culture, disputed and threatened as it was from the outside, remained fairly safe and protected.22 The immediate future of the republic hinged on the growth of the fledgling IRPT and the democratic wing of the CPT. In the early years of the 1990s, it seemed impossible that those two parties could come together. 21 Bennigsen and Broxup, Islamic Threat, 132; Mikhail Guboglo, “Demography and Language in the Capitals of the Union Republics,” Journal of Soviet Nationalities 1, no. 4 (1990–1991): 30–31. 22 Kathleen Watters, “Central Asia and the Central Press: A Study in News Coverage,” Journal of Soviet Nationalities 1, no. 2 (1990): 108–109; Gregory Gleason, “Marketization and Migration: The Politics of Cotton in Central Asia,” Journal of Soviet Nationalities 1, no. 2 (1990): 91.

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The Rastokhiz was more a movement than a party. A reaction to glasnost’, it was founded in September 1989 under the chairmanship of Tohir Abdujabbor who had work experience in Afghanistan and spoke fluent Persian. The membership numbers were unknown. It had many local branches. The source of funding for the group was membership fees. The objectives of the party consisted of gaining independence for Tajikistan; revival of Tajik culture and tradition,23 including the Persian alphabet; establishment of a democratic government with a prime minister and a parliament; assurance of economic and cultural progress; securing individual freedom and private property; creation of independent economy with ties to other countries; agrarian reforms; and privatization of the means of production. After its establishment, Rastokhiz initially cooperated with the government, but after the 1990 February demonstrations and the government’s brutal crackdown, it changed course and joined the opposition. Rastokhiz held its first party congress in 1991. In foreign relations, the party hoped to establish ties with all nations, especially with Afghanistan, Pakistan, and the Islamic Republic of Iran. It also intended to give Islam a central role; making sure, however, that Islamic ideology and internal political affairs of the republic were kept separate. The leaders of the Rastokhiz party, at the time of its registration in 1991 were Tohir Abdujabbor, Khalifabobo Homidov, Holizoda Abduqadirov, and Hamidullo Habibulloev. The Democratic Party was a secular, pluralist party with a diverse membership, including Tajiks, Russians, Jews, and Uzbeks. Initially it had a good relationship with the democratic movement in Russia. The party was founded on August 10, 1990, with 2,000 members, and registered in June 1991. Its leadership included Shodmon Yusuf (also known as Yusufov and Yusupov), philosopher and academic, and Davlat Khudonazarov, cinematographer and politician. At its peak, in June 1992, the party had 15,000 members. It was not popular in Kulob and Qurghonteppa. The publications of the party included the self-­ sufficient, weekly Adolat (justice) published in Dushanbe; Ariana published in Khujand; and Bomdod (morning) published in Kuibishev. The party was funded with membership dues. The objectives of the party included freedom of language and religion; complete economic, political, and educational autonomy; a national parliament with representatives from all provinces and parties; dissolution of the Communist Party; land reform; privatization; keeping Tajikistan’s resources out of the reach of superpowers; equal partnership with super 23 There was also an attempt to revive Zoroastrianism, but it was not related to Rastokhiz. Cf. Hetmanek, “Islamic Revolution,” 371–372.

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powers; and commercial links with South Korea, Japan, France, Germany, and the Islamic Republic of Iran. In foreign politics, the party intended to keep good relations with Iran; foster economic and political connections with other countries so that Tajiks could travel abroad without need for a visa. Islamic clergy were to have places in the government, and Islam was to serve as a guiding light for the future. In the 1970s, discovering Islam was on the minds of many people and groups. The clandestine Islamic Renaissance Party, founded in 1975, was another response to that need. Although the party was not openly formed until June 1990 and was not officially registered until October 26, 1991, it played a major role not only in shaping, but also directing the immediate future of the republic. The chairman of the party was Muhammadsharif Himmatzoda. The party enjoyed a very high membership, but exact numbers were kept a secret. The party had one publication, Najot (Liberation), that due to paper shortages was distributed irregularly in Dushanbe. The party was funded with membership fees. The objectives of the party included creation of a socio-political system based on Tawhid (belief in the oneness of Allah, the authority of the Qur’an, and prophethood of Muhammad); creation of a parliament (Islam requires consensus in government); familiarization of the people of the region with principles of Islam, leading to spiritual revival; and economic and political independence. The party planned to hold good relations with all Islamic countries. It also intended to promote an idea of Islamic brotherhood and bring all Muslims (Tajik, Uzbek, and Tatar) together. However, their ethnocentric and misogynistic approach to Tajik nationalism makes the appropriateness of their efforts questionable. The activities that took shape in the 1970s and 1980s in Tajikistan have their roots in the Soviet Union of the 1960s. At that time, Chingiz Aitmatov, an informed vocal advocate for the rights of the Central Asians, voiced his discontent on behalf of the Muslim masses against the communist system.24 The Soviet censors praised his stories and, identifying them as realist fiction, released them in various languages. They were touted as examples of literature that broke through the literature stalemate of the time. However, Aitmatov’s works were praiseworthy at a different level as well. They broke through the silence imposed by the communist system not only on literature, but in general, on the oppressed Muslim masses. Aitmatov portrayed the Soviet Union of the 24 Bruce Weber, “Chingiz Aitmatov, Who Wrote of Life in U.S.S.R., Is Dead at 79,” https:// www.nytimes.com/2008/06/15/books/15aitmatov.html. Retrieved on December 22, 2018.

Reinventing the Wheel

1960s as a country where an aging, static European population occupied all the key positions of power and compared it with a young and enterprising Muslim population that struggled for a meager living under trying circumstances. Alongside the parties mentioned, a number of movements advocated particular issues, or demanded rights for particular regions. The La’li Badakhshon, spearheaded by the Pamiris living in Dushanbe, was one such movement. It belonged to Gorno-Badakhshan province in the eastern part of Tajikistan. Its inhabitants differ from the rest of Tajikistan in that they speak their own languages (Ishkashemi, Wakhi, and Shughnoni) and adhere to a special branch of religion: Isma’ili Shi’ism that has its own imam, Aqa Khan. They also have some unique rituals and practices, often going back to pre-Islamic Zoroastrian heritage of the Tajiks. The La’li Badakhshon movement, led by Atobek Amirbekov, was established in late 1990 and registered in May 1991. It had an estimated membership of 3,000. Due to special difficulties, the movement’s only publication, Bokhtar (Occident), never saw light. Its source of funding remained secret. The objectives of the movement included establishment of a legal, democratic government; independence of Badakhshan (the primary reason for the creation of the party); cultural relations with Badakhshanis of Afghanistan and China; establishment of a parliamentary system with collective leadership; distribution of agricultural land and industry; and establishment of economic relations with China, Afghanistan, and Iran. The movement considered Islam a priority, but would not allow it to interfere in the affairs of government. To prevent regionalism, it advocated infusion of a strong sense of Tajikness into the inhabitants of the republic. With the participation of the Pamiri Davlat Khudonazarov in the election for president, La’li Badakhshon assumed a political stance. It joined the Democratic and the Islamic Renaissance parties against the communist Rahmon Nabiev. In the same vein, it organized a meeting in Khorugh on December 9, 1991, in which the members of the movement demanded more autonomy and more resources for Badakhshan. Their demands fell on deaf ears. With glasnost’ guiding their thoughts and actions, the Tajiks no longer felt obliged to keep their sentiments in check. Individually and collectively, they set forth ideas that could lead to a bright future.25 But their efforts, like their initial attempt at diagnosing the causes of the civil war, were off the mark. Many 25 The Soviet state did not expect individuals to set forth their own ideas for a bright future. Rather, the people were supposed to achieve a dictated bright future through collective effort. Cf. Sohibnazar, Subhi, 32.

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saw the solution for Tajikistan’s problems in creating political parties and movements around individual themes. That brought some individuals notoriety, but did not offer a universal solution. Other parties and movements highlighted religious, cultural, and nationalistic sentiments. However, they also presented neither a vision nor a workable plan that could lead the Tajiks to the creation of a unified Tajikistan. Both the CPT and the IRPT fell under the latter category. The Sixteenth session in Khujand, however, channeled the demands of the parties and movements involved into a single goal and provided a space for discussion, ultimately creating a new constitution and a new parliament. Through the new constitution, Tajiks could express all their hopes and aspirations and through legislative and executive powers make them produce results.

NEITHER COMMUNIST, NOR ISLAMIC Depending on circumstances, the response to the number and variety of the parties, movements, and fronts in Tajikistan of the early 1990s was diverse. The ordinary people were overwhelmed. The government that considered the CPT the only legitimate party in the republic labelled them illegal. Most ziois, especially those knowledgeable about the plight of the Tajiks described them as a fragmented demand by an enslaved people groping in the dark for enlightenment. Individuals tried to learn what they could about each party, movement, or front in order to carry out a meaningful conversation. The government rose decisively against them. Their suppression, they thought, was the wish of the authorities in Moscow, and later a guarantee towards their own security and well being. Safarali Kenjaev, whose life and activities were outlined above, is an example. He set up a whole front on his own authority to prove to the Supreme Soviet that only force could return Nabiev back to power. No wonder he was prevented from injecting his war mentality into the proceedings of the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet in Khujand. The only body that recognized the value of the Tajik peoples’ fragmented voice was the political wing of the southern command. It recognized the common ground among the diverse voices, synthesized them into a whole, and drafted an outline for a workable constitution to be presented as one of its solutions to the problems of Tajikistan. Its proposal regarding creation of a secular, democratic, and all-embracing government based on universal norms of human rights and law and order supported its claim that this solution was superior to the options offered by the Islamists, the communists, and all the other parties and movements.

CHAPTER 7

The Path to Recovery INTRODUCTION

T

his chapter is in two parts. The first part deals with the impact of the breakup of the Soviet Union on Tajik politics, the eruption of the Tajik civil war, and the perennial conflict between the socialists safeguarding communism and the Islamists being determined to impose Shari’a law. It also covers the events in 1992 that led to the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan in Khujand and to the election of Emomali Sharipovich Rahmonov as the head of the government of Tajikistan.1 There are also some general remarks clarifying the dynamics in Tajik society regarding the roles that the government and the UTO played during the years before the peace accord. Between 1992 and 1997, the most difficult years for the Tajiks, the state was committed to prove to the Tajiks that it intended to break with the past and usher in prosperity. It intended to do so by introducing a new government, a viable constitution, and a moderate and effective president. Conversely, the opposition ranks, by clinging to their traditional ways, fomented conflict along ideological, religious, and ethnic lines with the intention of benefiting from the chaos.2 The UTO leaders had the difficult task of convincing their gun-toting warriors that Emomali Rahmonov’s decisive actions left no viable option but to sign a peace accord. The second part, the main part of the chapter, is a study of the procedures, decisions, and official stances that brought the two sides of the conflict—the 1 It is noteworthy that in March 2007, out of respect for his cultural heritage, Emomali Sharipovich Rahmonov dropped both the Russian-style “-ov” ending and the patronymic Sharipovich from his name. His name became simply Emomali Rahmon. However, this study focuses almost exclusively on events that take place prior to the change of name, so we shall retain the Russian-style “-ov.” Rahmon will be used at the end for events that took place after the change of name. 2 Cf., Olimzoda, “Vahdati Milli,” 60.

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new government and the leadership of the UTO—together to resolve the conflict, once and for all. The chapter ends with the signing of the Tajik peace accord in Moscow and a perspective on its implementation to the present.

THE PATH TO RECOVERY The breakup of the communist system in Moscow was a shock not only to Tajikistan, but also to the constituent republics of the USSR. The perestroika and glasnost′ decrees issued by Mikhail Gorbachev (b. March 2, 1931) did not reach Tajikistan until the latter part of the 1980s. Once they did, however, they affected the nation culturally as well as spiritually. In 1990, as an effect of glasnost′ on the socio-political dynamics of the republic, the IRPT ended its clandestine mode and achieved national status. Even as an underground movement, the IRPT had triggered the appearance of many other movements and parties, among them Rastokhiz and the Democratic Party. Additionally, the influence of perestroika and glasnost′ meant that a burgeoning media could enter Tajik society, established by various groups for the promotion of their particular points of view. In spite of paper shortages and transportation inadequacy, newspapers and journals were published and disseminated republic wide. As mentioned, the media was flexible enough to discuss the much-needed change in the republic and keep the agents informed of this change. In addition to the Tajik media, information came to Tajikistan through visitors from the West, mostly from Europe. During that transition period, they came in increasing numbers, their behavior was imitated, and their business proposals aroused curiosity. My discussion with Farrukh regarding the impact of the contribution of international visitors is noteworthy.3 Those proposals eroded and eventually dissolved the bonds that had kept Soviet Tajik society whole. In other words, many desperate people and groups were now searching for answers to questions that in the recent past had not caused any concerns. Their desperation alerted the CPT to the danger ahead and forced it to react. But the party’s routine reaction only worsened the situation. The reason was that the nation had undergone changes similar to the changes in the Soviet state. The republics that had formed and nurtured the Soviet Union were now on the verge of being released from their responsibilities. That meant the socialist ties that had kept Soviet kolkhozes, sovkhozes, and the many unions together were no longer operating according to the old rules. 3

See Appendix for the discussion.

The Path to Recovery

The danger, of course, was in the kolkhozes and sovkhozes that had been neatly created next to each other. They accommodated Muslims and Communists as neighbors. In the past, these people had lived together in comradeship, but now their bonds were coming asunder and questions were being raised regarding ownership, seniority, ethnic background, or ideological affiliation. The creation of the IRPT in Qurghonteppa showed that the Muslim youth of the region disobeyed the Soviet authority. Their participation in Dushanbe riots signaled that they were fiercely loyal to their cause, while it also hinted at the enormous conflict brewing between the Muslims and the Communists. In the new environment, each person and the whole republic were on their own. People could either carve an administrative position out of the old Soviet system and make it their own, or they could use democratic vehicles and create new businesses. Both processes were not devoid of conflict. Some of the members of the CPT, for instance, chose the new movements and groups that responded to their ideals. Others remained loyal to the old system. Ironically, it was the ordinary, lower-rank people who were ready and willing to accept change. They began inquiries about democracy, its legislative and judiciary organs, and its handling of media and human rights much sooner than some of the elite in the Party. Predictably, what the general public heard about the free world was different from the totalitarian legislative and judiciary organs with which they were familiar. In the new systems, orders were not dictated from above. However, only the ordinary people and the lower echelon of the administration embraced the change. The leaders in the Supreme Soviet and the president of the republic carried out their duties as if nothing had changed. They feared that otherwise they might lose their positions. Besides, it was the only system in which they had thrived and knew how to use it to force their will on the masses. Under such circumstances, countries turn to their ziois: poets, writers, journalists, and critics. My conversation with Farrukh indicated that at that juncture, Tajiks did not have “true” ziois. In fact, they had a dim view of their ziois.4 Farrukh further described the tense atmosphere in which, not long ago, the communists and the would-be reformers confronted each other with lethal consequences. Karim puts it this way: in February 1990, the Tajik government killed 25 innocent people and sent 117 others, with gunshot wounds, to the 4

See Appendix for discussion.

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hospital. The people only had a simple request for information. Why could the government officials not fathom it?5 In 1990, the concepts of Tajiks as a nation seeking entrance into the international scene, the socialist system as an ideology, and Islam as a creed were vying for people’s minds. It was not clear which of the three would win the contest. However, it was apparent that in the past seventy years, socialism’s attacks on Tajik nationalism and Islamic spiritual values had been unsuccessful. Increasingly it seemed that the uneven battle between overt socialism and covert Islam must be brought into the open and fought in a political forum. It also became clear that the fight should include players other than the Tajiks. In other words, Tajiks had to shape the future government of Tajikistan together with outside forces. Russia certainly had a role to play. Although independence meant separation from the Soviet Union, it did not mean immediate total political and economic autonomy for the republics. Much of the economy of the republics had remained in the hands of Moscow. Therefore, Moscow supported the trusted former Soviet leaders, who still headed the governments in the independent republics. The positive aspect of the Moscow connection was that a semblance of Soviet rule and communist power remained, providing a sense of security for vulnerable republics such as Tajikistan. The negative aspect was that the republics’ leaders could not adapt to the new values. Their people were no longer averse to rejecting orders from above. That made a state like Tajikistan, populated by kolkhozchi (one who works on a kolkhoz) and sovkhozchi (one who lives on a sovkhoz) comrades, extremely difficult to control. Afghanistan and Iran indirectly supported the IRPT from its inception. These two countries, like Russia, had their role to play in deciding the fate of Tajikistan. Following Iran’s example, the IRPT projected an aura of religiosity, buttressed by slogans about freedom and democracy. In reality, however, this movement was inspired by Ruhollah Khomeini’s idea of establishing an Islamic republic.6 As long as IRPT evinced anti-Communist sentiments, parties and groups that sought international human rights and freedom were eager to cooperate with it. So did many young people, workers, and administrators who had lost hope that the upper echelon of society would ever undertake any of their desired reforms. Eventually, the Communist elites determined to stay true to the course and the rising leadership of the IRPT faced each other in Dushanbe over the 5 6

Cf. Karim, Fariod, 243. For a comprehensive look at the 1979 Iranian revolution, see Bashiri, Modern Iran, 254–275.

The Path to Recovery

largely fictitious Armenian refugee problem. The Soviet authorities treated the event casually, claiming that the incident had been instigated by hooligans and drug addicts. They closed their eyes to the real reasons for which the Tajiks were ready to give their lives. Instead of forming a committee right away to investigate the causes and suggest a solution, the issue was relegated to the office of the president, an office that, in the past, had taken and buried many such cases. The outcome of the Dushanbe riots shows clearly that neither communism nor Islam had addressed the demands of those who sought genuine changes such as the introduction of human rights, a secular government supporting law and order, and upholding equality of all citizens. On the surface, at the time, it looked like these needs were never considered all together, and no general plan was made for liberalization. Rather, individuals with insight were advocating individual remedies. Unlike communism and Islam, the liberal values that could foster the young Tajik nation and make it recognized internationally were totally ignored. And yet, unbeknownst to even major players like Safarali Kenjaev and his associates, a clandestine wing in the southern command was synthesizing those demands and preparing a comprehensive proposal to present at a Supreme Soviet meeting. Everyone hoped that the government of the newly independent state would introduce change, that it would allow formation of new small economic units such as cooperatives. But the authorities continued to discourage private business and entrepreneurship. At the same time, corrupt officials in the government allowed peasants to sell their produce in the black market while the shelves in the state stores were empty. This situation gave rise to hoarding, extortion, and other illegal activities. It can even be said, as Dubovichevskii reports in the journal Daryo, that the authorities supported a mafia that openly challenged them.7 Those who were still loyal to the communist or socialist system had to defend its values against an upstart structure comprising government officials, party leaders, and the mafia. What is surprising, however, is that at the end, many more than expected allowed the old government to be divested of all power. Only the president remained fighting for the old system. As part of this process, Kenjaev, Dustov, Saifulloev, and others were dismissed, and twelve new members, among them eight opposition representatives, were added to the Supreme Soviet to create the GNR. It was logical for Huvaidulloev, Kenjaev, Dustov, Saifulloev, and their supporters to label the actions of the GNR an act of aggression, a coup d’état. 7

V. V. Dubovichevskii, Daryo, no. 1, (1997).

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It was also natural for the Kulob and Hisor regions to rise against the upstart government and try to abolish it. At the end, the Hisor group forced the GNR to hold the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet in Khujand and to restore to power the government that had ruled before May 7, 1992, including Kenjaev, Dustov, and Saifulloev, as well as President Nabiev, who had resigned under duress on ­September 7, 1992. However, that move was never made. My analysis of the events in the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet indicates that the Kulob group, which can be identified with the hidden political wing of the southern command, discredited the Hisor group, convinced the representatives in the Soviet to disband the GNR, expel the opposition members, and chart a new path for the republic. To that end, in the first few days, the representatives prevented Kenjaev from participation in the meeting, decided to revise and update the constitution, and chose a new leader for the republic. Although the new government was centered on Kulob as opposed to Khujand or Hisor, its values were to encompass Tajikistan as a whole. It considered all Tajikistan to be the home of all Tajikistanis, irrespective of ethnic, regional, and ideological differences. The representatives aimed at a much higher ideal than mere regionalism: they did not hold Kulobis and the Leninabadis against the Gharoteginis and the Badakhshanis; ideological differences, showing no preference for Hanafi, Isma’ili, or Wahhabi Islam; or ethnic concerns—they did not discriminate between the Tajiks, Russians, and Koreans. In the next years, the fidelity of the new government to its pledge, the tenacity of its leader, and the patriotism of the people would be tested. This chapter will give a sketch of these tests, with particular attention be paid to the positive steps that the government took to improve the lives of the Tajiks in the diaspora, and to the new government’s plan to lift Tajikistan out of the difficult formative period and place it among the progressive nations of the world. Further below in the chapter, a preliminary assessment will be made of the progress in creating the infrastructure and enforcing systematic reforms as envisaged by the Soviet in Khujand. During the preparatory phase that follows, our efforts will be focused on goals, rather than on achievements.

PREPARATION FOR PEACE During the October Revolution, the ancient city of Khujand, in the Ferghana valley, played a major role in the promotion of socialism in Central Asia. Its role did not diminish after the revolution was over, and the city was still an

The Path to Recovery

important point after 1936, when its name was changed to Leninabad.8 During the Soviet era, it could even be considered the administrative center of Tajikistan. In 1992, the Khujandis, accustomed to their important position, refused to recognize the legitimacy of the GNR created by the Islamists in Dushanbe. This significance remained well into the twentieth century, as the Supreme Soviet meeting on November 16, 1992 was held in that city. To move matters speedily and in an organized manner, the Supreme Soviet used its first order to appoint Emomali Sharipovich Rahmonov as its president, according to article 109 of the Constitution of the Republic of Tajikistan.9 The order was signed by N. Tabarov, president of the Sixteenth Session of the Supreme Soviet. Interestingly, the order was only signed on November 19, 1992, three days after the Soviet first convened.10 That decree did not emerge out of a vacuum. Over the few years when the government was in disarray, the representatives studied the situation in the republic carefully and concluded that regionalism, ethnic conflicts, fear, hatred, and even war could not solve the problems of Tajikistan. The only solution was to create mutual understanding among the people, establish careful and reasonable laws, and appoint a new individual to implement those laws. As a result, in the Sixteenth session, Rahmonov11 was nominated by the people’s representative B. Mirzoev as the future head of the Supreme Soviet of Tajikistan. On November 18, 1992, Rahmonov took the oath of office and became the head of state (sardori davlat).12 Why did the Soviet choose Rahmonov, a young politician from Kulob, a kolkhoz head? As Qurbon Vose’ explains, Rahmonov was humble, unassuming, and well known among the representatives. He was knowledgeable of and sympathetic to the needs of Tajik society. He also looked presidential and had a pleasant mien. Additionally, before the Khujand meeting, he had contacted the heads of the governments sympathetic to Tajikistan, some of them in person, and presented the Tajik civil war in an international perspective.13 Vose’ could

  8 N. Ne’matov, “Khujand,” in Ensaiklopediai Sovetii Tojik, vol. 8, ed. M. S. Osimi (Dushanbe: Akademiai Fanhoi RSS Tojikiston, 1988), 48–49.   9 Rahmonov, Chahor Sol, 5. 10 Sadoi Mardum, November 24, 1992. 11 For a description of the Sixteenth session, see Karim, Fariod, 541–544. 12 Vose’, Siosati Davlati, vol. 1, 81. November 18, 1992 is the actual date that Rahmonov took the oath of office; see also Epkenhans, Origins, 343. 13 Qurbon Vose’, “Naqshi Sozmoni Millali Muttahid dar Tahkimi Davlatdorii Tojikon,” in Vose’, Siosati Davlati va Vahdati Melli, vol. 1 (Dushanbe: Ilm Publishers, 2012), 181.

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have added that Rahmonov recognized the Soviet system as an expended ideology and saw that its values were no longer compatible with the international trends.14 Mutual understanding and cooperation played major roles because, in order to achieve their goal, the Tajiks had to avoid the temptations of regionalism, group and personal interests, and concentrate on establishing a prosperous life for all their countrymen. Rahmonov repeatedly reminded the people that it was important to forget the past, as he spoke to counter the assertions of ­Rahmon Nabiev and others who continued to ignore the cries for change.15 The representatives respected the constitution of the republic and planned to create a government based on law and order. For them such government would be the best vehicle for moving the republic forward and towards prosperity and integrity. They also cast a hard look at Tajikistan’s military capabilities and found it lacking. It was obvious that on its own the republic was incapable of introducing law and order, especially when a civil war was raging in the country. Therefore, the Supreme Soviet studied the question of a national army for border defense and internal stability carefully and made appropriate decisions. In addition, the representatives called on the neighboring nations, especially the Russian Federation, to come to their aid. The other countries contacted for assistance were Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Kyrgyzstan. The next order of business was to appoint provincial governors and list their duties. Like the military, the justice system of the republic had been irreparably damaged, some aspects were totally missing. The representatives reestablished the system and made it operational. Another major problem of Tajikistan was the refugee issue. In the course of the war, many people lost their homes and were moving from place to place within the republic. Others were scattered in neighboring countries, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan. The representatives took steps to facilitate the return of all refugees to their homes and homeland. The representatives also studied various aspects of administration, social dynamics, as well as the dynamics of rural and urban life in the country. In that context, they analyzed the education of the cadres, assistance to the needy in society, internal trade relations, industrial and agricultural reforms, economic reform including banking policies, assessment of underground minerals, and 14 Rahmonov, Emomali, Tojikon dar Oinai Ta’rikh. Dushanbe: Irfon, 1997, 33. Cf., Twinning, New Eurasia, 166. 15 For a full text of Nabiev’s statement before resigning officially in Khujand, see Nasriddinov, Tarkish, 217–233.

The Path to Recovery

international relations. Special attention was paid to rehabilitation of factories and other work stations and to reengagement of workers and tradespeople. A major topic of conversation and point of legislation was facilitating the opening of foreign embassies in Tajikistan and Tajik embassies abroad.16 At the end, Emomali Rahmonov took the oath of office: “I swear to use all my knowledge and experience in ushering peace to every family and to every household and to work for my dear country truthfully and constructively. If necessary, in order to realize that task, I am ready to lay down my life. I am ready to make that sacrifice because I believe in a prosperous future for my country as well as in the good fortune awaiting the downtrodden people of my beloved land.”17 In an interview about a month after his election, Rahmonov identified his three priorities: creation of mutual understanding among the fighting factions so that they lay down their weapons, establishment of public security by the government, and provision of assistance by the CIS forces. Rahmonov explained that the CIS forces were to safeguard important installations around Dushanbe, guard roads, and secure the border. They did not have the right to collect arms form the public. That duty had been assigned to local authorities. The Kazakh and the Kyrgyz, he explained, had undertaken the maintenance of Tajikistan’s security at the republic’s borders, while the local forces were to provide internal law and order. Additionally, the population had taken an oath to forgive each other and forget the past. Rahmonov also talked about the refugee crisis, saying that thousands of Tajiks lived as vagabonds in their own country in unbearable condition, without proper housing, food, and clothing. He singled out the situation of the refugees from Shahrtus and Qabodion, who were behind barbed wire on the Afghan border, as particularly precarious. There were over 30,000 refugees in Afghanistan, all hungry, cold, and sick. Many of the children and elderly had died by that point. Apparently, the fighters engaged in child trafficking, exchanging refugee children for weapons. Many young girls were taken away by Afghan groups. Rahmonov claimed that the Tajik government was examining all the possible ways to return those refugees. There were also 20,000 refugees on the border of Tajikistan at the Panj river that needed assistance. A deputy Prime Minister was put in charge of returning those refugees to their 16 Cf. Emomali Rahmonov, Ma’ruza dar Seseai Habdahumi Shuroi Olii Jumhurii Tojikiston (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1993), 13. 17 Cf. Qurbon Vose’, Siosati Davlati va Vahdati Melli, vol. 3 (Dushanbe: Ilm Publishers, 2012), 9–11.

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homes as soon as possible. However, the movement of the refugees was tied to the availability of roads and transportation. Rahmonov promised that within the next few days the roads to Hisor, Shahrinav, Tursunzoda, Kofarnihon, and the Dushanbe-Qurghonteppa road would become available. Refugees who hand over their weapons to appropriate authorities would be allowed to enter the country. Commenting on the food shortages and the fact that citizens, at times, had to stand in long lines to purchase bread, Rahmonov promised to feed the people of Tajikistan. By December 25, 1992, 140 tons of wheat were to come to the republic. The government of Uzbekistan promised to aid Tajikistan with foodstuffs. The government of Kyrgyzstan promised to provide Badakhshan with food, fuel, and medicine. Similarly, Kazakhstan would also help with grain and fuel. In general, Rahmonov claimed that Tajikistan’s neighbors and others were ready to help the republic overcome its post-war difficulties. The complex issue of post-war development also included assistance from Russia that provided troops to secure Tajikistan’s borders and seize control over Muslim insurgents. Russia also gave work to some Tajiks who typically sent home the money they received. The United Nations took care of repatriation of refugees, helped with peace negotiations and maintenance. Also involved were the CIS, Asian Development Bank, and the Agha Khan foundation. The latter, since 1992, has developed a number of projects dealing with the healthcare, economy, as well as social and cultural well-being of the Tajiks of the Kuhiston. Therefore, there is no doubt that Tajikistan received a great deal of assistance from many different sources. The question is whether that assistance was handled according to democratic norms, an issue that will be discussed further below. Rahmonov also warned that this aid should not make the Tajiks complacent. Only the Tajiks could rescue themselves.18 On December 12, 1992, Rahmonov addressed the people of Tajikistan as the president of the Supreme Soviet. In his introductory remarks, he reminded them of the difficulties that they had experienced as a result of the war and invited them to assist him in rebuilding Tajikistan according to international norms, including equality, human rights, and democratic rules. He then presented his agenda for the task. The first point was to establish a government-supported order throughout the country and assign individual responsibilities to officials on all levels. Next, law and order agents were to be placed in various locales. 18 Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 7–8; M. Mohammad, “Musahibai Muhim: Davlat az Ittifoq Khizad,” Sadoi Mardum, Dushanbe, December 19, 1992.

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This would be trained people, and the government would provide any assistance they might require, to maintain maximum security. Finally, an important point was to return the refugees to their villages and towns, provide food and clothing for them, and prepare them to participate in the rehabilitation of the devastated land, using humane international standards. A key issue was to make factories, institutions, and organizations operational again and find constructive and productive work for all people. The refurbishing of the factories and the promotion of commercial relations would take place simultaneously. Rahmonov then identified several necessary factors required to keep the newly independent state stable. First, the constitution was to be renewed on the basis of international norms and used as the foundation of a democratic state built on law and order. Next, Tajikistan was to have a national army, with strong border guard. In the international arena, the republic was to join the world nations, establishing political relations with all countries that are willing to cooperate with Tajikistan based on equal rights and mutual benefit. To achieve that, the country was to join international forums. Following the non-interference principle (meaning that neither country was to infringe upon the rights of the other), Rahmonov planned to strengthen and develop neighborly ties and multi-faceted cooperation with the Russian Federation, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Turkmenistan. He also intended to establish, if possible, good relations with Afghanistan, Pakistan, China, Iran, and other Asian countries, as well as with countries in Europe and Africa and with the United States. But more than anything, he wished to focus on ushering peace and tranquility into his homeland. There had been many similar speeches delivered before, both by the Soviet authorities in power before the GNR and during the rule of the GNR. None had received the type of follow up that Rahmonov provided to show his determination to put his words into action. To review the activities of the government and the opposition groups, we will use news headlines discussed by the Tajiks in Dushanbe during the early months of 1993. Thus, a tentative picture of the changes in the republic will be formed. It is necessary to point out that this assessment is based on the words of the president and his supporters. More independent evaluations by international observers of the events will be presented further below. The general public was concerned about the state of emergency and curfew declared on January 7, about the Russians’ demand to control all nuclear weapons in the CIS, and about the inauguration of the Muftiyyot of Tajikistan, especially the secular role of Mufti Fathullo Sharifzoda of Hisor valley. People

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were not happy about the fate of Haji Akbar Turajonzoda who on February 12 was charged with criminal behavior in relation to his support of the anti-communist opposition forces during the 1992 civil war. On March 6, 1993, Tajik government troops won the Romit Gorge east of Dushanbe back from the opposition forces. The government also gained control over many settlements in the Gharm region, an important stronghold of the opposition. The most thought-provoking issue of the time, however, was the death of two of Tajikistan’s popular war heroes: Sangak Safarov and Faizali Saidov. It was rumored that on March 30, 1993, the two commanders had killed each other in a duel in Qurghonteppa. No credible explanation was provided.19 Everyone’s story differed from everyone else’s. With regard to Sangak, however, a more careful study of his role in the political wing of the Southern command is necessary. Between June 20 and 26, Badakhshan gave up its claim to independence and the people of Khorugh received their first food convoy since winter. During the same time, the Supreme Court banned four opposition parties, confiscated their assets, and issued criminal charges against their leaders. Annulling all Iskandarov’s decrees, Rahmonov dashed all the hopes of transforming Tajikistan into a model democracy that the GNR supporters entertained. The government still strove for lasting peace and national unity, but at the time, both goals seemed distant and unattainable. However, with the assistance of the United Nations, the Russian Federation, the countries of the CIS, and other neighboring countries, the impossible became possible. In what follows, we will show what role the government played and how the opposition reacted. Rahmonov’s relentless pursuit of his goal and his wise decisions did not allow the opposition to gather its forces (see below). By 1993, the opposition’s support had eroded to the point that it had no option but to accede and sign a peace treaty. 1993 was a fateful year for the Tajik nation. They had averted a national catastrophe and were preparing to reset their lives and restore the dignity and nobility that had been the hallmark of their life and culture. Their guide in this venture was the Supreme Soviet that in its Sixteenth session had outlined the necessary steps to restore prosperity. Before the war, Tajikistan had had a stable civic and national organization with orderly ways of working that had been dictated from the top of the structure to the base for over seventy years. In those organizations, the individuals 19 See also Mandelbaum, Central Asia and the World, 216.

The Path to Recovery

were not involved in the process of discovering problems, finding innovative solutions, and, once a solution was reached, using it as the foundation for further investigation. Rather, the individuals had to put their trust in the knowledge and generosity of experts appointed by the authorities. The experts, who were usually not from Tajikistan, diagnosed the problems and proceeded to take any necessary actions. By 1993, with the Soviet rule collapsed, Tajikistan faced a shortage of experts. Almost all sectors, including agriculture, education, and industry, had been destroyed. The shortage of experts impacted agriculture in at least two ways. First, the new technology available in the open market was not compatible with the old Soviet machines used in Tajikistan. Second, Tajikistan did not have trained technicians who could fill the vacuum created by the departure of the Soviet experts. The most important reason, however, was that the war had affected every family, disabling man power as well as the care for vast amounts of farmland. Consequently, cotton and wheat, two of the most important agricultural assets of the republic, were not fully harvested. Only 63 percent of the cotton (513,000 tons) and 61.2 percent of the wheat (276,000 tons) were gathered. The Qurghonteppa chicken farm was totally destroyed and cattle losses amounted to one billion sums.20 This situation was inevitable. As mentioned, those who brought the crowds to the Shahidon and Ozodi squares, especially those who led them to fight each other, had anticipated the poverty. The opposition leaders knew that the economic crisis would cripple the authorities in Dushanbe. They were not concerned about how many lives were lost or how many families were dislocated. Rahmonov’s wisdom praised above rested in the fact that he saw through the opposition’s strategy of chaos, reviewed the extent of the damages that it had incurred in each sector, especially in the context of sit-ins and work stoppages, and applied appropriate remedies.

EDUCATION The civil war was not fought exclusively in the southern fields, but also in the villages, townships, and cities, alley by alley and house to house. Reports indicate outright theft in factories. Groups carrying weapons entered places of work and plundered public property. In fact, public institutions were turned into centers where opposing factions gathered for discussion or for destruction. As a result, 20 Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 14.

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educational centers, including high schools and universities were closed. Often students gathered behind closed gates and discussed affairs, other times they raided the buildings and carried out all they could, even the light bulbs.21 The total loss to the education sector in 1993 was estimated at 5 billion sums. That kind of treatment was not limited just to schools and universities. It also affected healthcare, albeit to a lesser degree. In 1993, the government’s task was to determine what kind of society the Tajiks envisaged for themselves and build it. The discussion was focused on a society based on law and order and an educational system that taught children, from early childhood, to respect themselves, their parents, their nation, and their fellow countrymen. They needed to appreciate what their nation provided for them and not only safeguard it, but also contribute to it. That kind of education, of course, was not possible without competent and experienced teachers who could inject those values into the youth early in their lives and prepare them for the challenges ahead. At the time, Tajikistan lacked such teachers. In fact, teachers were among the least respected members of society. So were the cadres in the nation’s banks, administrative offices, law and order, and the religious institutions. They all were the product of the schools and the educational centers destroyed after the Soviet collapse. During the Soviet era, Tajikistan had ten universities, which were organized in such a manner that they could meet all the needs of the republic. After 1990, a process of expanding education took place that damaged the Soviet system. Within a short time, the number of universities in the republic increased to twenty-two, with an additional seventy-five colleges and high schools.22 While the ten universities before 1990 provided a variety of courses and skills, the new system offered a limited variety of training. Consequently, the need for knowledgeable cadres was not met. Moreover, the organizers of the universities and colleges in the republic were not good teachers and experts. Many of them held their positions only with the help of subsidies contributed by local and central governmental agencies. They could not give the students the knowledge required to navigate Tajikistan’s future multi-faceted economy.23 Most of the graduates, instead of using their expertise in areas for which they had been trained, entered the work force as traders, taxi drivers, or policemen, and some even joined the mafia. Statistics show that between 1992 and 21 See also Qurbon Vose’, “Naqshi Sozmoni Millal,” 185. 22 Cf. Bobokhon Mahmadov and Ali Asghar Sherdust, Tojikiston (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1994), 22. 23 Rahmonov, “Vahdati Melli,” 58.

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1996, 16,200 experts graduated from colleges and universities, but most of them were not engaged in activities related to their expertise. As a result, in 1996, the republic’s schools could not fill 13,200 teaching positions.24 In 1993, I visited the Academy of Sciences, the Tajikistan State University, and the Writers Union many times. A running narrative in my conversations with directors and scientific workers, colleagues, and students was centered on low, stagnant salaries, inadequate labs, and poor working conditions. Some worked more than two jobs just to make ends meet. The students were aware of the situation and were not willing to participate in any type of educational activity. Rahmonov’s position regarding general education was innovative for the Tajiks. In several speeches he stressed that the youth should be placed in venues where they fit best. Some belonged to business, some to the military, and some to education. All were to receive appropriate expert guidance and be encouraged to contribute to the country’s development. Those who refused would be given the choice between training and incarceration. Over the years, a system of conditional assistance was established and implemented. Ministries and other governmental organizations were authorized to sign permits, which allowed students to continue their studies abroad. The condition was that the student should return and contribute to the well-­ being of the state. Unfortunately, those who benefited from the system were the sons and daughters of those who had created the system in the first place. Thus, the system robbed the meritorious poor students of their legitimate right to receive assistance from the government and improve their status in society. At the end, the republic did not have any alternative but to renew its educational system and make the curricula in its schools compatible with the type of training that could respond to the needs of the new, market economy. In the process, special attention was paid to the needs of the business sector. It is no wonder, then, that their students failed to measure up to the tasks at hand.

ECONOMIC RESPONSIBILITY The Supreme Soviet in Khujand emphasized the importace of creating a law-abiding society that could draw on the resources of the country with knowledge and care. It required the authorities to recognize the value of knowledge and make it a platform for advancements in technology, social engineering, 24 Ibid., 59

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human rights, and the value of mutual understanding, cooperation, and progress at both the national and international levels. Similarly, in 1993, Tajik industry was about a quarter of what it had been before 1991. The following sectors were affected adversely: chemical, nonferrous metal industry, cotton, cotton fabrics, leather, and footwear. In the food industry the amount of produce had decreased from 34 to 55 percent. Industry, on one hand, is tied to raw materials, but on the other hand, it also cannot function without experienced workers and, more importantly, without marketing. The Tajikistan emerging from the civil war lacked all three factors. In 1992, all farms, factories, and the offices responsible for light industry were in shambles and most of their assets, ransacked. Closer scrutiny of the economy indicates that together with those shortcomings, there were some outlets that exported leather and other goods to foreign factories, bringing disadvantages to the country’s factories in the process. For instance, from January to May 1993, the volume of production in the Ministry of Industrial Production decreased by 57.8%, the office dealing with cotton products had a 49.4% decrease. Similarly, there was a shortfall of 79.4% in general light industry, including meat and milk (37.3%), and in the renovation (umron) company (26.3%). Transportation and freight activities decreased by 28.7%, aviation by 28.4%, and property value by 49%.25 The decree of the Supreme Soviet in Khujand required raw material producers and experts to reevaluate their past performances. As a result, Tajikistan’s light industry, especially the factories that dealt with raw materials, were turned around. In the first five months of 1993, for instance, the pace of production increased by 20%. Production of cotton materials, a very important branch of economy, increased by 1.6%.26

A CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT Having experienced both a totalitarian government and a brief period of Islamic rule, the Tajiks opted for a secular government that would respect all religions, including Islam. This government regarded spirituality as a necessity for the development of its peoples’ purity of intention in dealing with each other and with other people in general. Having experienced the interference of religious authorities in its government in 1992, the new, independent republic decreed that there should be a clear line of separation between the clergy and the 25 Cf. Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 15–16. 26 Ibid., 15–16.

The Path to Recovery

government. The legislators decided that the ritual practices and customs of all the people of the republic must be respected and cherished. The following political principles guided Tajikistan’s new government: a real and true democracy based on individual and collective respect for the law, providing a comfortable life for all citizens; a constitutional government, which held all citizens equal before the law; an equitable government wherein the head of state was treated according to the same set of rules as an ordinary farmer, the learned, same as the illiterate, and women were equal to men; and lastly, a secure society wherein the protection of the social, economic, and political interests of the majority was given priority over interests of certain individuals and groups.27

THE REFUGEE ISSUE In the civil war, numerous individuals and families became refugees. Their situation was a topic of major discussion during the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet in Khujand. At the session, the term “refugee” was defined to mean Tajiks who had lost their homes in Tajikistan but remained in the country, wandering from place to place, and Tajiks who had left the country and were leading a difficult life in neighboring countries such as Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Iran. It was decided that all refugees who wished to return to normal life in their homeland should be repatriated with dignity. The Supreme Soviet made it incumbent upon the government and the people to welcome the refugees, help them adjust to the new life, and provide ease and comfort for them. The rehabilitation of the refugees was not an easy proposition. It entailed the reconstruction of villages and farms, the renovation of factories, and the rehabilitation of the whole agro-industrial complex that had existed during the Soviet era, albeit in a new fashion compatible with the dictates of an independent Tajikistan. However, the solution was not totally in the hands of the government. The opposition, both those within the republic and those who influenced affairs in the republic from the outside, also had to cooperate, which they did at least on this issue. As a result, by June 1, 1993, around 587,000 (a combination of refugees and internally displaced people) had returned to their places of residence, and by June 20, 1993, nearly 90% of the displaced people had returned. A good number of them were returning from abroad. 27 Ibid., 21–22.

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FOREIGN RELATIONS In 1992, Tajikistan did not have any foreign relations in the true sense of the term. It had been connected to Russia and to other republics supervised by Moscow. Therefore, Tajikistan’s entrance into the capitalist world gave the republic and its leaders a shock. For a long time, it was obvious that Tajik leaders were waiting for directions from the one authority they felt comfortable with, the Soviet State. Between February 1990 and November 1992, the Tajiks as a people and their authorities realized that the aid from Moscow had come to an end. More importantly, for their survival as a small and poor nation, they now needed the support of their neighbors, as well as assistance from the United Nations and other donor institutions.28 However, unlike most nations that approach foreign donors unprepared, the Tajiks had a well-drawn plan. On the one hand, they approached the donor nations as supporters of human rights and a people respectful of international principles, and on the other hand, as a nation that safeguarded its own interests at all costs. It was obvious to the Tajiks that they had to replace the experts the Soviets had brought to their country and then withdrew because of the war. To bring new experts, the Tajiks had to rely on the good will of the countries of the world at large. Only with help from other nations did they have a chance to train their youth who would, in turn, revive their agriculture and industry.29 Obviously, the CIS countries were the first to be contacted. They were basically requested to sustain the already existing relations between Tajikistan and their republics. Some of the republics, such as Kazakhstan, had had more contact with Russians and, therefore, more experience. The Tajiks hoped to draw on this experience to learn the dynamics of the modern political, social, economic, and cultural systems that moved the world forward. With those issues in mind, by 1993, Tajikistan signed treaties of friendship and cooperation with the Russian Federation, Belarus, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Kazakhstan. The next step was creating relations with countries with which Tajikistan had no links before.30 Therefore, to establish similar relations, Tajikistan sent high-level deligations to the Islamic State of Afghanistan, the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, and the Islamic Republic of Iran and added their cooperation to those of the CIS contributors. Here, Tajikistan had to be very careful to spell 28 Rahmonov, Oinai Ta’rikh, 50. 29 Rahmonov, “Vahdati Melli,” 62; idem, Oinai Ta’rikh, 101–103. 30 For Rahmonov’s view of the place of Tajikistan in relation to the rest of the world, see Rahmonov, Chahor Sol, 79.

The Path to Recovery

out its intentions regarding the co-connections. The new relationships were to be founded on mutual respect, equal rights, and a lack of interference in each other’s affairs. It was obvious in 1992 that neither the CIS countries, nor those in the world at large, were willing to invest in a war-torn country like Tajikistan, where the opposition threatened the country’s integrity. Tajikistan could not enter the international arena before it achieved internal stability. In order to reach that goal, Tajikistan sought membership in the United Nations. The United Nations could help Tajikistan not only with much-needed foreign aid, but also facilitating the return of Tajik refugees to their homeland.31 Moreover, the United Nations could help Tajikistan convince its opposition to lay down their arms and join their compatriots in building a modern, progressive homeland, a law-abiding society founded on the principle of equality and a common understanding of human rights. In fact, if Tajikistan were sincere in its intention to become a viable partner on the international scene, it had no alternative but to create a constitution-based government. With the assistance of the United Nations, it could then open customs offices on the border and embassies in the capital cities of the major countries of the world, and realizing the wishes of its Khujand representatives. After such achievements, Tajikistan could extend a hand of friendship to China, Japan, and the republic of South Korea. With the assistance of foreign currency, the Tajik authorities concluded, the establishment of a solid economy; development of the Vakhsh valley project; realization of much-needed construction projects, and the building of industrial concerns could materialize. Only then could the Anzob tunnel be created and the Qurqanteppa-Kulob railway completed.32

ARMED FORCES AND SECURITY When Tajikistan became independent in 1991, President Rahmon Nabiev refused to take over the 201st Russian Rifle Division and use it as a core on which an army for the republic could be built. He felt that the republic lacked the funds necessary to maintain the army. As a result, in 1993, Tajikistan did not have a standing military presence. It had to put a force together from scratch. Unfortunately for Tajikistan, according to Rahmonov, the young people who, 31 Cf. Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 10. 32 Cf. ibid., 19.

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as rebels, had risen against the state, now avoided conscription and refused to come to the defense of their fathers, mothers, and fellow countrymen. Rahmonov’s statement ignored the reasons for this lack of interest. Indeed, why should a young person leaning towards IRPT, who endeavored to establish an Islamic republic, or even a caliphate, contribute to a cause proclaimed by the liberals? Moreover, everyone, and especially the youth, was aware of the corruption that permeated the military. Therefore, responsible parents refused to place their sons in harm’s way. The youth saw that the older people who served in the Soviet army gained nothing. The exchange between the shepherd boy Bektai and Tanabai Bakosov in Aitmatov’s Farewell Gyulsary! shows the long-standing feud in the Central Asian society between the youth and the Soviet authorities. The young people knew that they would not lose anything if they refused to join the system 33 After 1993, the government had a mandate to establish a viable force for the defense of the nation. Therefore, it scrutinized the backgrounds of the youth who were at the age of conscription, placed the criminals in prison, and assigned the worthy youths appropriate, responsible positions. In other words, they were included among the personnel of a variety of services such as security forces, judicial cadres, ministry cadres, and administrative positions in order to create the core of the army. Needless to say, this inexperienced and, to a degree, untrained force was not capable enough to defend Tajikistan’s borders on its own and keep the Tajiks secure against armed refugees and insurgents. Therefore, CIS forces were summoned from Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and the Russian Federation to help keep the borders of the republic safe. Their contribution also freed some Tajik forces in the NSC and the national army to deal with the insurgents within the republic. The dismemberment of the opposition forces in the south was accomplished by a coalition of forces from the National Front, the militia force, the NSC, and the 201st Russian Rifle Division. Using those forces, Rahmonov, assisted by Sangak Safarov and others, neutralized the destructive power of the insurgents and brought peace and tranquility into Dushanbe. It should be noted that the common people, people’s representatives in the Supreme Soviet, and the national Tajik forces also contributed immensely in dislodging the enemy from its stronghold in the south and driving its remnants to take refuge in the mountains and in neighboring countries. 33 Chingiz Aitmatov, “Farewell, Gyulsary!,” in Tales of the Mountains and Steppes, trans. Fainna Glagoleva (Moscow, Progress Publishers, 1973), 233–235.

The Path to Recovery

POST-WAR RECONSTRUCTION In his address to the nation in 1993, Rahmonov lamented that there was a great deal of talk about reconstruction, but little actual support. He feared that if that trend continued, the government would not have the means to feed and clothe the nation during the coming winter. He, therefore, urged the government to study the situation carefully and to remedy it appropriately.34 Upon studying the situation, the government concluded that the whole economic structure of the republic was not viable and had to be overhauled. To overhaul the government there was an urgent need to attract foreign investment which, in turn, required a stable, secure, and reliable state.35 To reach that goal, Ramonov set forth a three-phased plan. The first stage was renovation of the agricultural complex destroyed in the war. The second stage was the introduction of these complexes to the market, and the last stage included additional reconstruction and modernization. The first two phases dealt with critical issues, which required much funding. While working on them, the government would retain, utilize, and strengthen the plants and commercial relations that existed before the war. Special attention would be paid to two main assets: cotton and aluminum. Export routes were to be created for those vital items. Privatization was to expand beyond government concerns and affect trade. These three phases were to prepare the nation for reconstruction. However, true reconstruction would happen only if the state created a sizable saving in its treasury. Privatization of the government and the civil sectors could contribute to that. When the time came, the proper reconstruction could proceed in two phases: first, in the government sector, where the expenses were covered by the government monopoly, and then in the civil sector, where the expenses were to be met by private enterprises.36 Phase one used the republic’s natural resources to fuel agriculture, hydroelectric energy, food production, weaving, metallurgy, and other industries. It created a supply of home-made goods, which oiled the cogs of the republic. The task of phase two was to participate in competitions and, using modern techniques, create a progressive system of commerce for the country that would be in touch with the fluctuations in the market. If handled properly, phase one would contribute to the establishment of a sound government while phase two 34 Cf., Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 16. 35 Rahmonov, Oinai Ta’rikh, 51. 36 Cf., Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 18.

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would reconnect the republic to the CIS countries initially and to the rest of the world in the long haul. Before the actual reconstruction began, following the dictates of the Supreme Soviet (Sixteenth session), the government implemented the following program of reform. It increased retirement benefits, assistance funds, and regular salaries. It also made adjustments to other salaries to compensate for the inflation. A major task, for which 120 billion sums were allocated, was to stabilize the prices of such necessities as bread, milk, meat, and medicines. Additionally, the government took care of advances paid to pensioners, university students, veterans of World War II, veterans of the war in Afghanistan, and the disabled, as well as families affected by the civil war. Similarly, the savings of the citizens and the credit funds were adjusted to compensate for inflation. The government also pledged to assist in the expansion of private business and create new workstations, expand the public services, and assist the poor and the unemployed.37 In 1993, the Tajiks began a major program of reform entailing the rebuilding of their society and their nation on the basis of their traditional free community service (hasher), respect for all opinions, and democratic rules. They had to begin from scratch and rebuild administration at regional and district levels. What they kept in the forefront of their mind was the fact that the devastation throughout the republic was not uniform. Its extent depended on two factors: the strength of the opposition and the acceptability of the message of the opposition by various regions. For instance, in the region of Gharm, the opposition found fertile ground for sowing its seeds of insurgency—they even installed an Islamic government in the region. But in Faizabad, they could not find such a niche. As a result, Faizabad was not affected by the war in any considerable way while Gharm was devastated. Those responsible for charting the way out of the calamity of the war had to take these differences into account. The first order of business was the question regarding the population of the independent republic. The reformers had to determine the degree of public participation in the implementation of changes, paying special attention to individuals and groups responsible for the civil war. Considering that most of those were young people whose generation had experienced nothing but war and destruction, the new government decided to retain the worthy and incarcerate the unruly until they become ready to cooperate and contribute to the well-being of all. One of the reasons for incarcerating some was because they were in touch with the enemies of Tajikistan that operated from outside 37 Cf., Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 20–21.

The Path to Recovery

­ ajikistan’s borders, such as in Afghanistan. In the provinces and districts where T they lived, they served as operatives for the opposition. The government hoped that by incarcerating those known individuals, it would put an end to all familial, regional, ethnic, and religious interactions that, in the past, had resulted in disaster for the nation. The next task was to create new opportunities and to reengage the youth in constructive projects.38 The final step was to enforce a disarmament program, and devise responsible measures against criminals, such as training criminals to be useful members of the society, or incarcerating them. Attention was also paid to securing provision of flour and oil, increase in salaries, and improvement of relations with neighboring countries, as well as welcoming international institutions and organizations.

BANKING During the Soviet era, people did not have much use for banks. Unless there were large amounts involved in trade, especially with foreigners, most transactions were carried out in cash or by using checks. This was particularly the case when people established their own independent businesses, as a way of keeping their money from being merged with the state’s finances. In 1992, Tajikistan made an effort to establish commercial relations with other countries and become involved in world banking. The following is a list of commodities that were exported by Tajiks in 1992, using tariff agreements. The transactions were registered with customs but the amounts were not entered into the nation’s treasury for circulation: Oil products

28,000 tons

Copper

400 tons

Soap

8,000 tons

Wood and planks

5,000 square tons

Metal products

2,000 tons

Crude oil (nafti khom)

300,000 tons

These transactions pointed to a lack of organization on the part of the banks and lack of supervision on the part of the government regarding control 38 See seven points outlined by Rahmonov for preparing the youth for new tasks, Rahmonov, Oinai Ta’rikh, 100–103.

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of the republic’s assets.39 It was a signal calling for study, reorganization, and unification of the external and the internal commercial structure. More importantly, it became clear that merchants dealing with exports and imports should be licensed and supervised by the government.

THE MEDIA In 1993, the difficulties arising from the war impacted many sectors of Tajikistan’s economy adversely.40 Transportation and communication were two of those sectors. There was a shortage of gasoline making travel difficult. City transportation was impacted limiting the number of buses in the cities. A paper shortage nearly crippled the newspaper industry. The number of publications was at its lowest. Newspapers and journals could not meet their deadlines and were almost always behind schedule. Radio and television were often the only outlets for news, but they were biased in their reporting and their programs were poor in quality. When in 1993 all twenty television stations were united, the situation became worse.41 Suddenly, they were all broadcasting the same poor materials. It was decided to bring the media within state control. The year 1994 was the year of reconciliation. It began on March 8, when Turajonzoda confirmed that the Tajik opposition in exile was willing to negotiate with the representatives of the government and end the fighting between government troops and opposition forces based in Afghanistan and inside Tajikistan itself.42 According to Turajonzoda, the United Nations, Russia, Afghanistan, Iran, and Pakistan agreed to serve as observers of the peace process. The following is a summary of news items related to the events between 1994 and 1997. The summary shows the slow process of reconstruction that began in 1994 with the introduction of a new constitution, on which a new parliament and a new president would base their reforms, and the fight against the clandestine activities of the opposition, who were fomenting discord, supporting insurgencies, and plotting with foreign powers. More importantly, the news items indicate how the opposition found itself powerless against the government’s constructive activities and, granted some concessions, agreed to sign the peace treaty. 39 Rahmonov, Ma’ruza, 20. 40 Cf. ibid., 23. 41 Cf. Rahmonov, “Vahdati Melli,” 69. 42 Usmonov, Sulhnoma, 3–4.

The Path to Recovery

On July 20, the Supreme Soviet restored the office of president, abolished in 1992 to prevent Rahmon Nabiev, who was ousted by the opposition at gunpoint, from becoming president again. Now, the Soviet set September 25 as the date for the presidential election. Allowed by law to combine the offices of the parliament chairman and the president, Emomali Rahmonov became a candidate and on November 6, he was elected president with 60 percent votes. Additionally, the republic adopted a new Tajik constitution that reconciled the former Soviet laws with new laws based on international constitutional standards. Recommended by Rahmonov, on April 6, 1995, Safarali Rajabov was elected the new parliament chairman and Abdumajid Dostiev became the first deputy speaker.43 On May 23, the spiritual leader of the Isma’ili Muslims, Prince Karim Aga Khan, met with Rahmonov and signed an accord on longterm development programs in Tajikistan. The Aga Khan Foundation, operating in Tajikistan since 1993, sponsored agrarian reform programs, particularly in the Gorno-Badakhshan region populated by 200,000 Isma’ilis. On August 15, Yaqub Salimov was dismissed because he disobeyed the government course. Salimov, who headed a personal army of 20,000 troops, was a stumbling block to the peace process. Unlike Salimov, his replacement, Zuhurov, was not associated with the Dushanbe mafia and was not opposed to holding talks with the opposition. On January 21, 1996, the state-sanctioned spiritual leader of Tajikistan, Fathullo Sharifzoda, along with his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and one other person were found murdered at their house west of Dushanbe. The fifty-threeyear-old mufti had occupied his position since December 1992, when Rahmonov became the head of state. On January 26–27, formerly loyal warlords attacked the Tajik cities of Tursunzoda, west of Dushanbe, and Qurghonteppa, in the south. Supported by 300 militia men, two tanks, and two armored personnel carriers, former Tursunzoda Mayor Ibod Boimatov, captured the aluminum factory in the city. In the south, Mahmud Khudoberdiyev,44 appointed by Rahmonov as the commander of the First Rapid Reaction Brigade stationed in Qurghonteppa, took control of the police station and government buildings in Qurghonteppa. Both men demanded that Rahmonov should step down. The insurrection was designed as a major blow to the peace process, as well as the government’s efforts to implement the wishes of the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet. 43 For Rajabov’s biography, see Abdullaev and Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary, 176–177. 44 For Khudoberdiyev’s biography, see ibid, 116–117.

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In order to force Rahmonov to step down, on February 2, Khudoberdiyev and Baimatov advanced to within fifteen kilometers of Dushanbe. Rahmonov, supported by pro-government fighters who gathered in the Dushanbe stadium, denounced the rebellious commanders as puppets of foreign forces intent on wiping the republic off the map and refused to step down. On February 22, Said Abdullo Nuri claimed that the opposition controlled 70 percent of Tajikistan. On March 11, the Tajik parliament met without representatives of the opposition. The opposition explained its decision not to attend the meeting by citing the government’s inability to guarantee the safety of their representatives. Nuri feared that if one of his members were killed while attending the session, his group would have to retaliate, which would destroy any chance for peace. Between July 12 and July 19, in Turkmenistan, the government and the opposition agreed to a ceasefire around Tavildara. The agreement required the Tajik government to drop its requirement that the opposition forces in central Tajikistan return to the positions they held prior to February 1996. The control of the regional capital of Tavildara, near the only highway linking Dushanbe with the strategically important city of Khorugh, remained a question as both sides claimed possession. On July 22, the typhoid epidemic that had broken out in late May had worsened. Heavy rains and flooding devastated the sewage and drainage systems and spread infection to as close as eighteen kilometers from Dushanbe. 3,500 cases of disease had been registered in rural areas, forty-five people died. On July 29, academician Muhammad Osimi (b. 1920) was gunned down. The contributions of Osimi, a prominent member of Tajik society and the CPT, include research in philosophy, physics, and mathematics. At the end of his life, he founded the journal Payvand, which intended to create solidarity among Tajiks worldwide, and served as its editor. When the opposition saw that their efforts to hamper or discontinue the peace process were to no effect, they planned an assassination attempt. On April 30, 1997, Rahmonov was shot at and wounded in the leg, when walking to a local theater in Khujand to give a speech marking the sixty-fifth anniversary of the city’s university. His condition was not life-threatening. Two people were reported dead and two were taken into custody. At last, on May 16–17, Rahmonov and Nuri signed several agreements in Bishkek. They agreed to a general amnesty, continued prisoner exchanges, and set up a plan to hand over 25 percent of the seats in the Central Election

The Path to Recovery

­ ommittee to the UTO. They also agreed to allow five hundred UTO members C into Dushanbe to protect their representatives on the committee. On May 22–28, the government and UTO continued their peace talks in Tehran. They agreed on political reforms, including recognition of the opposition parties. On June 27, the peace agreement was signed in Moscow. In addition to officially ending the five-year conflict, the accord provided for the return of opposition supporters and refugees to Tajikistan, called for the integration of the armed forces created by the government and the UTO, and legalized the political parties that made up the UTO: the Movement for Islamic Revival in Tajikistan (MIRT), the Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan (IRPT),45 the Coordination Center of the Democratic Forces of Tajikistan (CCDFT) in the CIS, the Umed Association of Refugees (UAR), and some other parties and movements.46 It also granted the UTO 30 percent of all government posts and established a twenty-six-member Commission on National Reconciliation (CNR) made up of an equal number of representatives of the current government and the UTO. On July 3, the CNR was formed and members were appointed: thirteen UTO and thirteen government members. The council was scheduled to convene in Moscow on July 7, 1997, to elect a chairman from the UTO and a deputy chairman from the government. Before presenting a detailed discussion of the process that resulted in the composition and signing of the peace accord, let us summarize Tajikistan’s efforts that made the peace accord possible. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Tajikistan rapidly went through four phases. The first phase, from 1991 to 1992, saw struggle for dominance in government that led to the break out of the civil war and a peak of lawlessness and chaos. During phase two, from 1992 to 1993, the fighting gradually weakened, allowing for the development of trust and mutual understanding that finally led to reconciliation. Phase three covered 1994, with the creation of the new government with reformed political dynamics and an army to solve internal and border safety issues. The government launched economic reforms and a program for the return of refugees to their homes. It also worked to facilitate Tajikistan’s participation in international forums. Phase four, from 1995 to 1996, was marked by ­comprehensive 45 Abdullaev and Akbarzadeh, Historical Dictionary, 144. 46 Kamoludin Abdullaev and Catherine Barnes, eds., Politics of Compromise: The Tajikistan Peace Process (London: Conciliation Resources, 2001), 84.

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r­ emaking of cultural, economic, and educational systems; and a financial reform that helped attract capital to the republic.47 In this description of Tajikistan in the 1990s I have relied heavily on Rahmonov’s statements. At this stage Rahmonov speaks about goals rather than achievements, which makes his picture more trustworthy. Further below, the accomplishments of Rahmonov and the other Tajik leaders will be discussed. We will see whether the goals set at this stage have been accomplished and with what success.

THE TAJIK PEACE ACCORD Introduction Between 1993 and 1996, in the years preceding the signing of the Tajik Peace Accord in Moscow in 1997, great efforts were undertaken by the United Nations, the Russian Federation, Iran, and personally by President Emomali Rahmonov and Said Abdullo Nuri to rehabilitate and reconstruct the war-torn Tajikistan. Those efforts not only facilitated the return of the displaced people to their communities, but also made possible the reintegration of the opposition leaders and fighters into the civilian and military life of their homeland. If the latter program had not happened, there was every indication that the opposition fighters would have banded together as armed gangs and caused aggravation for both the government and the citizens. On the government side, the success of the peace negotiations was directly related to the untiring work of President Rahmonov. Throughout the negotiations, he stayed in touch with all the parties, especially the opposition, and pushed forward his vision for a lasting peace in a state based on law and order. Even in dire situations, Rahmonov changed neither his approach nor his stance regarding the opposition. He chose the middle ground whereby the government and the opposition negotiators could freely and openly state their thoughts regarding how to improve the life of the Tajiks. Rahmonov stated over and over that forcing people out of their homes, killing each other, and issuing military declarations are not the way to peace. He called for mutual understanding and cooperation, not just among Tajiks, but also between the Tajiks and their neighbors in Russia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, and other peace-seeking nations. In this, he was assisted by Dostiev, Ubaidulloev, Nazarov, Usmonov, Ismonov, and a host of others. 47 Rahmonov, Oiniai Ta’rikh, 37–39.

The Path to Recovery

On the opposition side, the success of the talks was due to the efforts of Said Abdullo Nuri, the chairman of the UTO headquartered in Taloqan, Afghanistan. Nuri, who preferred to remain in the background and let his colleagues take the leadership, was firm and decisive in solving essential problems. His helpers were mostly skilled party leaders and Islamic scholars such as Turajonzoda, Latifi, Himmatzoda, and others. Said Abdullo Nuri was rarely seen in public. I saw him briefly in 2002 when I was in Dushanbe to introduce Salim Ayoubzod’s book Tojikon dar Qarni Bistom (Tajiks in the Twentieth Century) that I edited. Nuri came to the presentation, accompanied by four or five people, and stayed a short while. It was clear even then that Nuri was the hidden force in the opposition camp in the same way as, apparently, Rahmonov was the hidden force behind the efforts of those advocating secularism and democracy. Visiting Kulob in 1997, I accidently met Qodir, whom I had met in the Muftiyyot in Dushanbe, again. He answered some of my questions about Nuri and the Tajik-style “Wahhabism” that became popular during the civil war. Seeing Qadir’s political opinions were leaning towards the opposition, I asked him whether it was possible to arrange a meeting between Mullah Nuri and me. He replied, “His Excellency chooses who to meet with, not the other way around.” We then talked about Nuri, Wahhabism, and the reaction of the Tajiks and the Soviets to Wahhabism.48 In general, Rahmonov and Nuri shared several points on which they agreed without need for negotiation. They both believed that the civil war was imposed on the Tajiks from the outside.49 They also believed that the problems of Tajikistan must be resolved by the Tajiks themselves with the assistance of outside mediation. They shared the idea that unless Tajikistan could prove that it has secure borders and internal tranquility, there would be no chance of attracting foreign investment into the country to rebuild its devastated infrastructure. The two differed not so much on ideological grounds but on how legislative and judicial arrangements should be handled. More importantly, they had to find ways whereby the military abilities of the opposition could add to the strength of the national Tajik army instead of rising against it. In this, too, they needed assistance from the United Nations and the CIS. 48 See Appendix for discussion. 49 As we have seen, this statement is not true. The civil war developed out of a set of complex circumstances, in some of which outside forces were involved. We shall return to this issue further below.

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Other important contributors to the success of the peace talks were the United Nations, the CIS, the Russian Federation, and Iran. Also participating were Afghanistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Pakistan, and Turkmenistan. They hosted meetings and gave counsel to help the negotiations go smoothly. Additionally, their participation made the negotiations an international affair, which helped prove their legitimacy. In that regard, the participation of the Russian Federation and Iran was a weighty argument. Interestingly, this was Iran’s only constructive peace building attempt since the foundation of the Islamic republic. Iranians and Tajiks are both Indo-European peoples, and they have a particular affinity for each other: they share the same mythology and ancient and medieval history. In recent years, however, due to banking irregularities, US sanctions on Iran, and allegations of terroristic tendencies made by the Tajiks, they have drifted apart.50 One of President Rahmonov’s visionary acts for saving Tajikistan was his understanding of the peacekeeping role of the United Nations and the concrete assistance that its offices could provide. He was especially aware that the United Nations could provide tools for the reconciliation and rehabilitation processes required to rebuild the country after emerging from years of civil war. So ­R ahmonov contacted the United Nations and requested assistance. In response, the United Nations opened a political office in Dushanbe in 1993 to provide political counsel and mediate the conflict between the government and the opposition. From 1994, the United Nations helped bring major figures from the Tajik government and the opposition together. The 1997 accords were largely signed thanks to international assistance. Major dignitaries such as Boris Yeltsin, Nursultan Nazarbayev, Askar Akayev, and Burhanuddin Rabbani either were present at the signing of the peace accord personally, or sent representatives to Moscow. Since its ratification, the peace accord has, ostensibly, changed the life of the republic. But yet, such internal flaws as nepotism, and drug traffic, which had led to civil war, remain. In what follows, we shall study the eight rounds of the negotiations. We shall see how, in the early stages, a foundation for peace was established and how, in subsequent rounds, internal unrest, pressure exerted by outside contributors, and a willingness on the part of the two major leaders, Emomali Rahmonov and Said Abdullo Nuri, to compromise on power sharing, led to the 50 See “Tajik Grand Mufti describes Iran’s invitation to Kabiri as abetting terrorism,” Asia Plus, retrieved January 11, 2016, http://news.tj/en/news/tajik-grand-mufti-describes-iran-sinvitation-kabiri-abetting-terrorism.

The Path to Recovery

happy finale. We shall see all that through the keen eyes and skillful documentation of Tajik politician Ibrohim Usmonov.

The People and the Nation On March 14, 1994, Abdumajid Salimovich Dostiev, the First Deputy Head of the Supreme Soviet, summoned Ibrohim Usmonov to his office and informed him that he was being included in the peace commission. Until that time Usmonov had not been aware that peace negotiations were underway or that such a commission existed. He stated his unwillingness to participate in the process because, in his opinion, up to that point the opposition had not contributed anything to the process and the government had been the loser. Dostiev listened intently, clarified some points and said, “Fine. I will take that into consideration. You can go. Give me some time to think about this.”51 Later that same day, Usmonov was summoned by Rahmonov, who also mentioned the peace process. Once again, Usmonov declined to participate. “Our intention in these discussions,” Rahmonov replied, “is not centered on win or lose. We are focused on rescuing the people and the country from the plague of war. I am ready to do almost anything in order to put an end to the destructive power of those who promote conflict in our nation.” It was in this context that Rahmonov wanted Usmonov to take part in the discussions. As he assessed the situation, Usmonov took time to identify Rahmonov’s program which he promised to implement once negotiations succeeded. First, Rahmonov intended to establish a national assembly and a temporary government run by impartial experts, with no restrictions on the activities of political parties. He also planned to let peace-maker forces of the United Nations, along the lines of the 201st Russian Rifle Division, enter Tajikistan. This would help to put an end to murderous activities of the war participants. With this threat out of the way, the president planned to hold open and free elections, opening the path for a new, democratic constitution. However, it was not clear exactly how he intended to achieve those lofty goals.52

Preparation for Negotiations The preparation for peace negotiations had started right after the conclusion of the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet meeting in Khujand in 1992. 51 Ibrohim Usmonov, Lahzahoi Sulhi Botadbir (Dushanbe: Irfon, 1999), 5–7. 52 Ibid., 8.

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Thereafter, the Head of State made every effort to familiarize the leadership, the administration, and the population at large with the fundamentals of democracy, the benefits of a constitution-based government and, most importantly, the contribution that mutual understanding and unity could do for the prosperity of the republic.53 He described in detail the harm done by regionalism, ethnic strife, ideological conflicts, and blind imitation of foreign models of government. Even though at that time the Tajik ideals were a great distance from being materialized, Rahmonov held them constantly before the eyes of his people. In hindsight, Rahmonov’s personal ideals were in conflict with the example that he set for the nation when those ideals came to play. Such discrepancy between the ideal and reality largely defines Tajikistan’s development up to the present day. While infrastructure has made immense progress, there have been either few or no systematic reforms. The peace negotiations were devised to obviate the distance between the ideal and the real by gradually bringing the contending factions together and creating mutual understanding. The problem, simply stated, was a conflict between the retention of old Soviet values established on the principles of the Communist Manifesto and imposed atheism versus the imposition of a new Shari’a-based, democratic structure the ramifications of which had brought about the conflict in the first place. The projected solution was the institution of a secular, democratic government that is ruled by laws approved by a parliament and executed by a president.54

The Role of the United Nations The involvement of the United Nations was crucial to the establishment of the peace talks and their success. It began with the efforts of the United Nations Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali who appointed Special Envoy Ismat Kittani to assess the possibility of meaningful negotiations between the two. Based on Kittani’s assessment, Russian Foreign Intelligence Service Director Yevgeny Primakov assured Said Abdullo Nuri, the leader of the Tajik Islamists, in Tehran, that his faction would be recognized as a legitimate party in the ­negotiations. Early in 1994, Ramiro Piriz-Ballon, a newly appointed UN special envoy, confirmed that the efforts of Kittani and the Russians had been fruitful and 53 Rahmonov, “Vahdati Melli,” 71–74. 54 We shall evaluate Rahmon’s treatment of democracy further below.

The Path to Recovery

that there was a basic willingness on the part of both sides to start negotiations under the auspices of the United Nations, but with some preconditions. Piriz-Ballon was appointed as the chief international mediator and other contributors entered as troubleshooters. For instance, Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Chernyshev facilitated the signing of the ceasefire agreement by convincing the government that that was the most reasonable choice. Similarly, the Iranian Deputy Foreign Minister Mahmoud Vaezi won the agreement of the opposition.55 There were many instances when, due to some disagreement, the negotiations could have ended. In such cases, the General Secretary’s threat, or some high official’s interference prevented the efforts of many from coming to naught. For instance, towards the end, the timely participation of First Deputy Foreign Minister Boris Pastukhov’s discussions with Rahmonov and UN Special Representative Gerd Merrem rescued the Commission on National Reconciliation protocol, as we will see below.

Negotiations Begin The government negotiating group flew to Moscow on April 3, 1994, to begin the first round of the peace talks. Following Rahmonov’s intention, this round was to focus on the people and the nation. The initial round, setting the agenda for the later stages, took place in Moscow, on April 5–19, 1994, under the auspices of the United Nations. The session included witnesses from Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Iran, Pakistan, Uzbekistan, and the Russian Federation, as well as OSCE (the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) and OIC (the Organization of the Islamic Conference). The agenda included discussions of national reconciliation, including political settlement, the status of refugees and displaced Tajiks, and the overall structure of Tajik government. Most of the meeting, however, was spent discussing the status of the refugees and the displaced Tajiks, which led to an agreement to create a joint commission. The political settlement discussions, centered on ceasefire, remained unresolved. The government demanded that the opposition lay down their arms, but the opposition distrusted the government. The discussion about the structure of the future government was even more disappointing. The opposition demanded 55 Cf. Elena Rigacci Hay, “Methodology of the Inter-Tajik Negotiation Process,” In Politics of Compromise: The Tajikistan Peace Process, ed. K. Abdulloev and C. Barnes (London: Conciliation Resources, 2001), 40.

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a fifty-fifty power sharing, but the government did not consider power sharing an appropriate topic for discussion. In this regard, Russian influence, especially their military presence, on the government could have been a factor.56 In the first round, the government group was led by Shukurjon Zuhurov and the opposition was led by Otakhon Latifi. The special representative of the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Ambassador Ramiro Piriz-Ballon, mediated the session. The participants explored political solutions to Tajikistan’s problems and determined the essential problems of the Tajik constitution and unification of the government structure.57 Round II took place in Tehran between June 8 and 28, 1994. In this round, Russia decided to limit its participation and only serve as the convener. That way, the Russians argued, the Tajiks would run the meetings on their own. The Tajik leaders claimed it was against protocol. The amount of inequality, animosity, and vengefulness that existed between the two factions, they argued, could not be ignored. After all, two hundred thousand Tajik citizens had been killed and a million had become refugees. The Tajiks simply could not analyze this situation as an outsider would. The opposition further cited their failure to reach agreement in meetings in Khorugh and Khujand. Both meetings had been unsuccessful, they argued, because the Tajiks had been on their own. Before the negotiations could continue, the United Nations and the Tajik leaders also had a discussion regarding the status of the mediators. The United Nations wanted the mediators to stay out of the meetings. The Tajiks, on the other hand, insisted that they should stay. Eventually it was decided to treat the mediators in the same way that the reporters were treated: they stay out and be apprised of the results immediately after each meeting. Continuing the discussion of the issues that had started in Moscow, the talks in Tehran concentrated on a temporary ceasefire for the duration of the peace talks. Because of a difference of opinion over the time to start the ceasefire no agreement was reached.58 In addition, the opposition demanded, before the talks could be meaningfully continued, to release twenty-eight prisoners: heads of organizations, leaders of parties, and clergymen in charge of province and district mosques, from among hundreds of political prisoners. The ­opposition also 56 Irina Zviagelskaya, “The Tajik Conflict: Problems of Regulation,” in Tajikistan: The Trials of Independence, ed. M. Djalili, F. Grare, and S. Akiner (London: Curzon Press, 1998), 163–164. 57 Ibrohim Usmon, Sulhnoma (Dushanbe: Matbuot, 2001), 61–62. 58 O. Panfilov, “Settlement: Tehran Round of Inter-Tajik Talks Ends,” Nezavisimaia Gazeta, June 29, 1994, reprinted in Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 46, no. 26 (1994): 20.

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requested to discontinue action on legal cases against Tajik opposition figures and revoke the Tajikistan Supreme Court decree regarding the activities of political parties, as well as the decree regarding freedom of the press. Boutros Boutros-Ghali was not happy with the outcome of the virtually stalled negotiations, particularly in view of an escalation of hostilities on the part of the opposition regarding the government’s planned referendum and September presidential election. He threatened to discontinue the talks immediately. This stance proved effective. The government, under increasing military pressure from the opposition, relented. Both the referendum and the presidential election were postponed until November. Lack of resolution on the basic issues in Round II led to a Consultative meeting held between September 12 and 17, 1994, in Tehran. The Consultative meeting, led by more senior leaders, provided the talks’ most substantial document to date, a result of concerted efforts by Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Chernyshev and Iranian Deputy Foreign Minister Vaezi.59 The two sides agreed on a temporary ceasefire contingent upon the arrival of UN military observers. It was to last until the day of the referendum and the presidential election. They also agreed on the release of political prisoners and prisoners of war within a month. The document was signed by Abdumajid Dostiev (First Deputy Chairman of the Supreme Soviet), from the side of the government, and Haji Akbar Turajonzoda (First Deputy Chairman of the Islamic Revival Movement of Tajikistan), as a representative of the opposition. The document became the basis for further rounds of discussion.60 Round III took place in Islamabad, Pakistan, between October 20 and November 1, 1994. The meetings were held under the auspices of the United Nations and were supported by the countries mentioned earlier. Again, Abdumajid Dostiev and Haji Akbar Turajonzoda led the negotiations. Ambassador Piriz-Ballon mediated the talks. The discussions in this round resulted in the extension of the ceasefire until February 1995. While little else was happening at the peace talks, in Dushanbe a referendum was held and a new constitution was accepted. Additionally, on the same day, the presidential elections were held. The two candidates were Emomali Rahmonov and Abdumalik Abdullojonov, Tajik ambassador to Russia and former prime minister. Rahmonov was the winner. These events were planned without the participation of the opposition, which gave a great deal of 59 Hay, “Methodology,”40. 60 Usmon, Sulhnoma, 109–116.

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ill feeling. As a result, the opposition withdrew from the negotiations. Ostensibly, the reason for withdrawal was the fact that the opposition did not want another meeting held in Moscow, even though they had previously agreed to it. Moscow, they said, had been partial. After a long time and much effort, a consultative meeting was held in Moscow between April 20 and 26, 1995. Meanwhile, the situation in Tajikistan changed. War broke out again, the reign of terror was unbearable. Areas from Roghun to Qarotegin and Darvoz were literally torn away from the capital; and killing, kidnapping, and threats to life and property reached a new peak. The population sank into disillusionment and despair. In addition, there was a shortage of bread so that citizens had to stand long hours in lines. In villages, people resorted to eating tree bark, plants, and weeds.61 There was also a shortage of real currency as the sum had lost its credibility to the point that men unable to feed their families committed suicide.62 The consultative meeting was headed by Mahmadsaid Ubaidulloev on the side of the government and Haji Akbar Turajonzoda on the side of the opposition. The main topic was governmental structure. Here, for the first time, the opposition suggested creating a national government that would encompass all political forces of the nation. The government suggested a constitutional government instead. A national government, they argued, was contrary to the spirit of the recent developments, including the peace talks. At the end, it was decided to table that issue until Round IV, which was scheduled to take place between May 22 and June 2, 1995, in Almaty.63 Meanwhile, the ceasefire was extended for one more month. A meeting between Rahmonov and Nuri was also to be held before Round IV. The brief meeting, held in Kabul on May 17–19, was convened and facilitated by Burhanuddin Rabbani, the president of Afghanistan. In their first face-to-face meeting, the Tajik leaders confirmed their commitment to the peace negotiations. They also agreed to extend the ceasefire for another three months.

Defining the Problem In Almaty, where Round IV took place, the atmosphere outside the meeting halls was very different from Moscow and Islamabad. On the one hand, the 61 Regarding the extent of the shortages, cf., Ayoubzod, Qarni Bistom, 314. 62 See “WFP Appeals for Urgent Food for 400,000 Desperate People in Tajikistan,” retrieved September 23, 2019, https://www.un.org/press/en/1996/19960327.wfp1032.html. 63 Usmon, Sulhnoma, 125.

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media was openly advocating for the creation of a national government in Tajikistan, on the other hand, the three neighboring countries, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Kazakhstan, openly supported the opposition. There were also many Tajik refugees in Almaty, who tried to influence the outcome. In spite of the difficulties, the fourth round saw substantive and direct negotiations. The key issue at this point was power sharing. On the side of the opposition, Turajonzoda revived his concept of a council of national accord, earlier suggested in Moscow. The council would have supreme legislative and executive powers for the duration of two years. The government and the opposition would each have 40 percent of the posts. The rest would go to the ethnic minorities. If that was agreeable, the opposition would recognize the presidency of Rahmonov. Ubaidulloev, representing the government, disagreed vehemently. He cited the results of the referendum, the presidential election, and the parliamentary elections, before concluding that those results clearly supported the government’s position. Simply stated, he indicated that the constitutional government and the parliamentary system already in place were not negotiable.64 Seeing that no more could be said on the power sharing issue, the negotiators turned their attention to finding a definitive resolution for the refugees.65 At the end, the Tajik parties, with the assistance of Kazakhstan President Nursultan Nazarbayev, produced a relatively minor agreement on the exchange of detainees and prisoners of war. The substantial question of power sharing remained for Round V in Ashkabat. There was also a noteworthy change: the opposition was split into an Almaty Platform and a Tehran Platform. It was obvious from the performance of the two sides in the meetings that the peace effort, with broaching the power-sharing formula, had moved beyond the stages of ceasefire and forum formation. Search for solution to Tajikistan’s problems had now entered its most crucial stage. Recognizing the significance of the developments in Almaty, the leaders of the two sides of the conflict took it upon themselves to meet once again and discuss the issue of power sharing face to face. President Emomali Rahmonov and Said Abdullo Nuri met in Tehran in July 1995 and issued the following protocol. It should be noted that although the government and the opposition negotiators did not follow the script set forth for them, the spirit of the protocol guided the rest of the negotiations until the achievement of the peace accord. 64 Lena Jonson, The Tajik War: A Challenge to Russian Policy (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1998), 19. 65 Usmon, Sulhnoma, 141–146.

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Protocol About Basic Principles for Establishing Peace and National Satisfaction in Tajikistan The President of Tajikistan Emomali Rahmonov and the Leader of the United Tajik Opposition Said Abdullo Nuri, in order to secure the lofty goals of the Tajik people, confirm that dialogue is the only sure avenue for achieving peace and national accord in Tajikistan. For this reason, the government pledges to restrain itself from all activities that would be contrary to the spirit of these protocols or hinder achieving peace in the nation. Similarly, the United Tajik Opposition pledges to remain within the limits of political activity, follow the rules of the current constitution of the Republic of Tajikistan, and abide by the rules of the general accord for reaching peace and national reconciliation. In order to achieve peace and national reconciliation in Tajikistan, the parties pledge the following. 1.  Starting from September 18, 1995, both parties will make every effort for the meetings of the Committee on National Reconciliation to be continued. The meeting will be held under the auspices of the personal representative of the General Secretary of the United Nations. 2. The Protocol contains the following articles: a.  political problems such as the creation of a consultative forum, activities of all political parties and movements and the participation of their representatives in government, as well as democratizing Tajik society. b.  military problems such as reform of the power structure of the government, elimination, disarming, or integrating enemy combatants in the military forces of the government of Tajikistan, or changing the current boundaries. c. voluntary repatriation and reintegration of refugees such as supporting them economically and accepting them socially. d.  introduction of observers on both sides of the conflict to monitor the correct application of the public accord. e.  organizing a donors’ conference to secure funds for programs that aim to reintegrate refugees, involuntary immigrants, people who had lost their positions due to national

The Path to Recovery reconciliation, as well as assistance for the revival of prosperity in the country that has been devastated by civil war. 3. Separate protocols covering the above-mentioned problems will be created as part and parcel of the general reconciliation. This document is only the first in the series. 4.  Acting according to the spirit of the Protocol, both sides of the conflict will create conditions facilitating the reconciliation efforts such as the temporary ceasefire and the suspension of all aggressive acts on the Tajikistan-Afghanistan border and within the country for the next six months, until February 26, 1996. 5.  Several copies of this Protocol signed by Emomali Rahmonov, the president of the Republic of Tajikistan, and Said Abdullo Nuri, the Leader of the Opposition Forces, were created under the auspices of the personal representative of the General Secretary of the United Nations, Ambassador Ramiro Piriz-Ballon. Emomali Rahmonov, President, Republic of Tajikistan Said Abdullo Nuri, Leader, United Tajik Opposition66

Round V, consisting of three phases, was held in Ashkabat between November 30, 1995 and July 21, 1996. It started later than scheduled because the opposition was again disappointed with the choice of the location. However, with the assistance of the United Nations, the meetings started. It was clear from the beginning that the parties continued to hold their positions on the issue of power sharing. The opposition retained its opinion that there should be a transitional council of national reconciliation with executive and legislative powers. The government had already rejected that point of view in Almaty. It suggested a consultative forum of Tajiks, which the opposition rejected outright.67 At the end of phase one in December, with little accomplished, Turajonzoda complicated the situation even more by demanding that the CIS leaders, in their forthcoming meeting, clarify their position on the Tajikistan question and that the CIS peacekeeping forces prove they are neutral in their dealing with the two sides of the conflict.68 Additionally, the situation in Tajikistan itself, both on the streets and in the areas made unstable by the war, was getting worse. On January 21, Fathullo 66 Ibid., Sulhnoma, 184–185. 67 Cf. Jonson, The Tajik War, 20. 68 Cf. ibid., 11.

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Sharifzoda, the Mufti of Tajikistan, his wife, son, a daughter-in-law, and a colleague were murdered in Hisor. Soon after that Muhiddin Olimpur, a journalist working for the BBC, was killed. Those murders and the war in Tavildara overshadowed the peace efforts and could derail the talks. Turajonzoda wanted to send a fact-finding delegation to Tavildara and ascertain the situation before the talks could be resumed. Ubaidulloev advised that they should ignore the war and continue the talks, focusing on issues that their leaders discussed in their recent face-to-face meeting.69 In order to satisfy the demands of the opposition so that the peace talks could be resumed, the CIS gave priority to the Tajik case during its January 19, 1996 meeting. As decided in this meeting, it pressured Rahmonov to abandon his strict rule of keeping the opposition at a distance from the future structure of government in Tajikistan. Those measures satisfied the opposition and the second phase of peace talks in Ashkabat began. In order to indicate its change of attitude, in phase two ( January 27– February 18, 1996), the government replaced Ubaidulloev with Talbak ­Nazarov, Tajikistan’s Foreign Minister. Nazarov proposed to resolve the conflict in a special session of the Tajik parliament, where the issue of sharing power could be decided upon and ways could be found to integrate the opposition leaders into the republic’s government and their armed forces, into the national army. The opposition found that solution agreeable. Security precautions were to be made for the opposition representatives who would participate in the parliamentary discussions. However, on the day that the parliament met, the opposition leaders did not attend. The insurrection of Brigade Commander M. Khudobardiyev from within, and the intensification of the war from outside the government prompted the opposition to repeat their suggestion of a council with definite legislative and executive powers. The government continued its recent proposal of including opposition leaders and fighters in appropriate positions in its current structure. At the end of the second phase of the Ashkabat talks, the parties came very close to an agreement on the substance of creating a consultative forum for the Tajiks, but they could not agree when exactly it should begin. Additionally, the opposition demanded that its proposed council should be given precedence to the consultative forum. Phase three ( June 26–July 21, 1996) was relatively successful. During this phase, the ceasefire was extended until the end of 1996, and the idea of a 69 Usmon, Sulhnoma, 206.

The Path to Recovery

Commission on National Reconciliation was placed on the agenda of future talks. Round V ended with an agreement regarding a meeting between Rahmonov and Nuri in Moscow.70 Once again, there was need for guidance from the top leaders. Emomali Rahmonov took the initial step for providing that guidance. He contacted Said Abdullo Nuri, writing: I am pleased to state that I am ready to meet you at any appropriate time so that we can, in the course of a face-to-face meeting, resolve the difficult problems of our people. We should solve the issue in a way that, once and for all, it places a full stop on our difficulties and serves as a cure for the ails of our people and a remedy for the wounds of the country. The government of Tajikistan, as the supporter of the people and the country, not only seeks a path to peace for the nation, but also is ready to end our people’s homelessness by cooperating with all the political forces that seek prosperity for the homeland not by resorting to arms but to their intellect. Our working group in Tehran has suggested a path that responds to all the needs of the government, parties, and movements. It also specifies a role for the active participation of those who are opposed to the government.   We do not despair. If we are to heal the wounds of the nation, we should not despair. I also know that our experts, while working in Tehran, have learned many things and understood much. Additionally, in Tehran a suggestion has been made by the United Nations that is worthy of consideration. In sum, a meeting between the two of us is called for to resolve the problems once and for all. Therefore, I believe, all the necessary preparations have been made for our meeting in Moscow.   The government appreciates the assistance of international institutions, in particular, the efforts of the United Nations, as well as the assistance of friendly nations such as Russia, Iran, and Uzbekistan during the peace negotiations. We are ready to continue the discussions regarding an unconditional and lasting peace.   I very much appreciate it if you could inform us about the date of your departure for Moscow so that we, too, could schedule our departure accordingly.71 70 L. Velekhov, “Yevgeny Primakov’s New Initiative,” Current Digest of the Post-Soviet Press 48, no. 28 (1996): 20. 71 Usmonov, Lahzahoi Sulh, 21–23.

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This letter formed the foundation for the next two meetings between President Rahmonov and the leader of the UTO in Khosdeh, a village in the mountains of the Taloqan province of Afghanistan, leading to the Panjshir valley, and in Moscow. The Khosdeh meeting took place on December 11–12, 1996, away from the village itself in a complex of three buildings in the war zone. There, President Rahmonov was welcomed by the president of Afghanistan Burhanuddin Rabbani and Commander Ahmadshah Mas’ud. Both Afghan leaders mediated the agreement that emerged from the meeting. Rahmonov respected Rabbani and counted on his contribution. After all, many of the Tajiks whom he intended to return to a peaceful Tajikistan had fled to Afghanistan and now lived there. Without the help of the returning refugees, in Rahmonov’s estimation, Tajikistan could never become a new, constitution-based democratic state. As soon as the opposition party led by Said Abdullo Nuri arrived in Khosdeh, the president and the opposition leader began their discussion, which lasted for about three hours. After that, Rahmonov apprised Ibrohim Usmon (from the working group) and Davlati Ismon (from the government group) of the contents of the talk. They, in turn, wrote up a summary of the meeting, a protocol concerning the cessation of fighting in Tavildara and Qarotegin, and an agreement about the establishment of a CNR to be signed in Moscow on December 19, 1996. The agreement mentioned that a month after its signing, the committee would determine the number and the identity of its members, including two co-presidents, one from each side.72 The issues to be investigated included preparation of a new law governing elections and related time frame, establishment of new government, and general amnesty, as well as freedom of activity for parties and political movements, honorable return of refugees and provision of support for them and respect for their rights. Two of the documents that came out of this meeting had already been drafted in Tehran, but they were initialed in Khosdeh. The most important document was left to be signed in the Moscow meeting. The success of the Khosdeh talks prompted President Rahmonov to announce the end of the civil war in Tajikistan. Round VI of the inter-Tajik talks convened in Tehran on January 6, 1997, when the Tursunzoda region of Tajikistan was made unstable by the military forces of Mahmud Khudobardiyev, commander of the First Brigade of the Tajik army. The task at hand was division of power between the government and the opposition. The opposition suggested an even split of forty out of sixty seats 72 For more details, see Usmon, Sulhnoma, 327–331.

The Path to Recovery

for the two, with the remaining twenty seats going to the “third force” that had recently been created by Abdumalik Abdullojonov. The government rejected this split and denied the existence of a third force in the country. Instead, it offered the opposition seventeen seats, which would be an almost 80/20 split weighted in the government favor.73 Since the issue was too complex to resolve in one session, they agreed on 27 seats (reduced eventually to 26). As for the composition issue, they relegated it to a discussion between Rahmonov and Nuri in Mashhad. The Mashhad discussion was held between February 20 and 21 to decide on the composition and structure of the new government. The outcome was a 50/50 split of seats between the government and the opposition with no other party involved. As for structure, the CNR would establish sub-commissions to deal with the political, military, refugee, and legal issues at hand. They also agreed that the opposition would be included in 30 percent of the executive branch posts. Round VII took place in Moscow (February 26–March 8). The discussion touched exclusively military issues: disarmament, reintegration of the UTO forces, and army reform. The government’s representative Nazarov proposed that opposition forces lay down their arms, disband, and merge into Tajik regular army in small groups of five to fifteen. Turajonzoda proposed that UTO forces should be included unit by unit and under a single command. Difficult as the issue was, it was resolved with the assistance of Russian and UN mediators. The reintegration process was set to begin with disarmament, move on to incorporation and, after passing the Joint Review Board for suitability, to a merge.74 Round VIII (April 9–June 27, 1997) was interrupted by a meeting of the leaders in Bishkek (May 16–18, 1997). The talks in Tehran had barely started when the participants disagreed on the timing for lifting the ban on opposition parties. To resolve the stalemate, Rahmonov and Nuri met in Bishkek, ­Kyrgyzstan, and drew up a protocol on political issues. The government suggested legalizing the opposition parties and liberalizing the media as soon as the UTO forces were disarmed. The opposition rejected it, because military force was its main support against the government. The compromise reached specified a phased lifting of the ban tied to the gradual disarmament of the UTO forces. Furthermore, it was decided that the UTO can station 460 armed units and 40 guards in Dushanbe to safeguard its CNR members. The talks in 73 I. Rotar, “Tough Going at Inter-Tajik Talks,” Nezavisimaia Gazeta 49, no. 2 (1997): 20. 74 See Abdullaev and Barnes, Politics of Compromise, 73–74, for details.

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Tehran were resumed shortly after the end of the Bishkek meeting. The rest of the discussion was centered on arrangements to be made for UN and CIS peacekeeping forces, and especially the role of the mediator nations such as Pakistan and Iran during the implementation phase. Before going to Moscow, in Tehran, Haji Akbar Turajonzoda and Said Abdullo Nuri had an argument regarding the contents of the Khosdeh agreement. The opposition tried to make changes that were inconsistent with the text of the agreement. They were informed that in international forums, once an accord is achieved, there is no possibility of making corrections. Eventually, with the assistance of the representatives of the United Nations and Russia, as well as the cooperation of Said Abdullo Nuri, the documents created on December 23, 1996 were signed. At the signing ceremony, Emomali Rahmonov addressed the Tajiks and those who had made success in the peace effort possible, with the following words: Today, in your presence, a particularly important historical document is being signed. It is a document that, for a long time, the Tajik people, Tajik nationals, and the friends of our people throughout the world have been looking forward to its materialization. That is so because this document is the initial step for ceasing hostilities and establishing peace in our country.   The armed confrontation that has been going on for the last four to five years has caused the deaths of thousands of our countrymen, devastated villages, and destroyed our agricultural base. Tajikistan can no longer sustain that level of sacrifice or afford that kind of devastation. Our people, too, like the people of the rest of the world, have the right to lead a good and prosperous existence. As I sign this document I believe that it is our duty to make a good way of life possible for all the people of Tajikistan.   I invite all my countrymen, not just those who are present in this gathering, but also thousands of our countrymen who are refugees, or are homeless, to return to their homeland. That is because today we pledged to make peace and to collectively move our country towards prosperity. Henceforth the fate of the country is tied to our patriotic feelings.

The peace accord document, the culmination of all the efforts, was to be signed in Moscow on June 27, 1997, in the presence of Emomali Rahmonov, Said Abdullo Nuri, H. A. Turajonzoda, A. Dostiev, M. Ubaidulloev, Y. Salimov, and S. Kosimov, as well as Boris Yeltsin, the foreign ministers of observer countries, UN representatives, and the representatives of the OSCE and the OIC.

The Path to Recovery

It was assumed that all the issues had been resolved and that only the public signing of the document remained. That, however, was not the case. Turajonzoda proposed two new additions to be considered before he would participate in the ceremony. One was the issue related to the February terror. Secondly, Turajonzoda demanded that at least one opposition member should be included in the cabinet. The President, in the course of a lengthy discussion, just before the signing, relegated the first issue to future discussions and agreed to the second request. In this way, the protocol that follows was signed. Protocol General Agreement on the Establishment of Peace and National Accord in Tajikistan, Moscow, June 27, 1997 For the purposes of achieving peace and national accord in Tajikistan and overcoming the consequences of the civil war, inter-Tajik talks on national reconciliation have been conducted from April 1994 up until the present time under the auspices of the United Nations. In the course of eight rounds of talks between delegations of the Government of Tajikistan and the UTO, hereinafter referred to as the Parties, six meetings between the president of Tajikistan and the leader of the UTO, and also three rounds of consultations between the delegations of the Parties, which took place in Almaty, Ashkabat, Bishkek, Islamabad, Kabul, Mashhad (Islamic Republic of Iran), Moscow, Tehran and Khosdeh (Afghanistan), the following protocols were agreed and signed.   The president of Tajikistan and the leader of the UTO have agreed that the signing of the present General Agreement marks the beginning of the phase of full and interconnected implementation of the agreements reached, which will put an end, once and for all, to the fratricidal conflict in Tajikistan, ensure mutual forgiveness and amnesty, return the refugees to their homes, and create the conditions for the democratic development of society, the holding of free elections and the restoration of the country’s economy destroyed by the many years of conflict. The highest national priorities of the country are peace and the national unity of all nationals of Tajikistan, regardless of their ethnic origin, political orientation, religion or regional affiliation.   The president of Tajikistan and the leader of the UTO have agreed to request the Secretary-General of the United Nations to provide assistance and cooperation in the comprehensive implementation of the General Agreement. They have also agreed to request the Chairman-in-Office of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), the

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The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC) and the Governments of the guarantor States to provide cooperation in the implementation of the relevant provisions of the General Agreement.   The President of Tajikistan and the leader of the UTO have agreed to register the General Agreement with the United Nations Secretariat in accordance with Article 102 of the Charter of the United Nations.   (Signed) E. Rahmonov, President of Tajikistan   (Signed) A. Nuri, Leader of the United Tajik Opposition   (Signed) G. Merrem, Special Representative of the Secretary-General of the United Nations

The peace talks lasted three years. Both sides knew that the major difficulty to resolve was power sharing, but they spent a good part of the three years on relatively less substantial issues such as ceasefire extensions and establishment of forums. Eventually, the United Nations, with Russia, Iran, and other mediating countries, on the one hand, and internal military pressure, on the other hand, forced the leaders to address the issue of power sharing. At the end, with the help of a roadmap created by the United Nations, which specified the establishment of a Commission on National Reconciliation, they made what had been at the beginning, an ideal, a reality at the end. There is no doubt that the signing of the peace treaty was a major milestone in the recent history of the Tajiks as a people. However, signing the treaty was not the ultimate goal of those who had worked on it very hard for over three years. The ultimate goal was national unity.75 Since the fall of the Samanids of Bukhara in the tenth century, Tajiks had never enjoyed living in a nation of their own. Before the Soviet takeover, what we presently know as Tajikistan was a part of the Emirate of Bukhara. During the Soviet era, this area had been turned into a conglomerate of kolkhozes, sovkhozes, villages, townships, and cities. The Soviet system promoted regional loyalty both at republic and national levels and, consequently, it expected loyalty from its citizens. Regionalism divided the Tajiks, even though, on the surface they all were fast friends and comrades. In the Sixteenth session of the Supreme Soviet in Khujand, it was decided that Tajikistan, as a new, independent nation, should learn to accommodate all ethnic groups, religious communities, and nationalities that live inside its borders. Even diverse thought structures were to be preferred over the old Soviet monolithic worldview. 75 Rahmonov, Oinai Ta’rikh, 108.

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The nine protocols listed below are the documents signed at different times and in different places by the president of Tajikistan Emomali Rahmonov and the leader of the UTO Said Abdullo Nuri. The documents that are marked with an asterisk (*) were signed by the Special Representative of the United Nations Secretary General in the Republic of Tajikistan, G. D. Merrem. Together, these documents paved the way for the achievement of peace in Tajikistan and made up the General Agreement on Peace and National Reconciliation in Tajikistan, signed on June 17, 1997. 1. Protocol on basic principles for establishment of peace and national reconciliation, August 17, 1995. 2. Agreement between Emomali Rahmon and Said A. Nuri after their meeting, Moscow, December 23, 1996. (*) 3. Protocol outlining the basic duties and responsibilities of the Commission on National Reconciliation signed in Moscow, December 23, 1996. (*) 4. Agreement between Emomali Rahmon and Said A. Nuri on the nature of rules governing the Commission on National Reconciliation, signed in Mashhad, February 21, 1997. (*) 5. Supplement to the Protocol outlining the basic duties and responsibilities of the Commission on National Reconciliation, signed in Mashhad, February 21, 1997. (*) 6. Protocol about military issues, signed in Bishkek, March 8, 1997. (*) 7. Protocol: about political issues, signed in Bishkek, May 18, 1997. (*) 8. Protocol guaranteeing the implementation of the peace accord and the national reconciliation in Tajikistan, signed in Tehran by the representatives of the Tajik government and the United Tajik Opposition, as well as by the representatives of the United Nations Secretary General, OSCE, Organization of Islamic Conference, and eight observer countries that served as political and ethical guarantors of the document, May 28, 1997. 9. Protocol about refugee issues, signed in Tehran, November 13, 1997. (*)

AFTER THE PEACE ACCORD Nearly twenty years after the signing of the peace treaty, it is still too early to fully assess the accomplishments of the Tajik leaders. It is, however, possible to make a general observation regarding the direction of the government’s

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democratic activities under leadership of President Emomali Rahmon and the state of secularism in present-day Tajikistan. It is also possible to discuss the improvements made in the overall infrastructure of the republic, as well as see whether the systematic reforms set forth in the peace accord have been successfully implemented. Needless to mention, these observations, as presented below, are based on assessments made by international observers like Bruce Pannier (see below), rather than by the principal participants in the events, or an analysis of events laid out similar to the pre-accord discussions. Emomali Rahmonov was the Tajiks’ main hope for ending the chaos that reigned in the republic after the civil war. He was a charismatic, well-intentioned, no-nonsense young warrior and, at the same time, eloquent and knowledgeable about the root problems of the republic. However, that was how the leaders in Khujand portrayed him. In 1993, the general public did not know Rahmonov as well as those who were preparing him to become the leader of the independent republic.76 Using the pre-accord structures discussed earlier, Rahmonov called for the assistance of the nations, institutions, and global organizations that were ready and willing to help the Tajik people reestablish their dignity and rebuild their homeland. A great deal of support came from the United Nations, the European Union, Russia, China, and the United Arab Emirates. The United Nations helped with the drafting and signing of the peace accord. Thereafter, it provided assistance in the areas of education, healthcare, and rural development, helped to grow trade and maintain human rights. Russia helped Tajikistan sustain its economy, as it gave work places to Tajiks who sent their money home. Russian military established security, fought drug smuggling and, most importantly, helped suppress an emerging radical Islamic movement. China has assisted, through the One Belt One Road project, by extending credit and helping to build roads, tunnels, and power infrastructure. Chinese firms explored oil, natural gas, and gold deposits in Tajikistan. Qatar painted a positive picture of civilized Islam by investing in the construction of the largest mosque in Central Asia in Dushanbe. The new building, worth one hundred million dollars, is to accommodate one hundred twenty thousand worshipers. It is also a symbolic materialization of Rahmonov’s belief that an important Muslim leader, Imam Abu Hanifa, was a Tajik. The dollar donations that poured into Tajikistan remind one of the petrodollars that came into Middle Eastern countries in the wake of the oil crisis of 76 See the Appendix for further discussion.

The Path to Recovery

the early 1970s. We know that in Iran, for instance, those dollars caused corruption at the court,77 the upper echelon of Iranian society, and, eventually, the bureaucrats. The shah, although determined not to allow corruption to define his personality and rule, eventually succumbed to the lure of building a great civilization. There is a close similarity between what went on in Iran after the oil boom and what has been happening in Tajikistan since the peace accord. In the early years after signing the peace accord, Rahmon78 used the help of the Kulobi elites, the members of the IRPT who were included in the government, and Mahmadsa’id Ubaidulloev to consolidate his power. Ubaidulloev assisted Rahmon since the current president was a kolkhoz head in Kulob. When Rahmon became the head of government, Ubaidulloev was appointed Mayor of Dushanbe. Between 1997 and 2017, Rahmon consolidated his position as president with the help of his sons, daughters, granddaughters, and other related family members. At the end, this new network of family relations replaced the former elite, including Ubaidulloev, the second most important man in Tajikistan before 2017. Thus, Rahmon took in his hands all political and economic levers of power.79 His son, Rustam Emomali, already recognized as the future president, will strengthen the line. One sign that the younger ­R ahmon has a good chance to become president, if and when his father decides to leave office, is the change in the presidential candidates’ eligibility age from thirty-five to thirty. As we have seen, just before the peace accord, Rahmonov made a series of lectures and town meetings, where he outlined his plans for a democratic and secular Tajikistan and explained how he intended to make them real. On their part, the Tajik people and the international donors pledged to assist in the rebuilding and funding of Rahmonov’s projects. The post-war reconstruction entailed two sets of plans that had to be carried out in tandem. The first big set of plans was infrastructure development, needed to make the republic attractive to its people and the rest of the world. The second part included systematic reforms that would introduce substantive democratic changes and reshape the economic, political, judicial, and ideological dynamics of the country, resulting in a progressive secular state. In what 77 Edwin P. Hoyt, The Shah: The Glittering Story of Iran and Its People (New York: Paul S. Eriksson, Inc., 1976), 222–223. 78 The change from Rahmonov to Rahmon happened in 2007. 79 Bruce Pannier, “Tajikistan’s Mahmadsaid Ubaidulloev: One of the Last of the Civil War Era,” RFE/RL, retrieved June 2, 2019, https://www.rferl.org/a/tajikistan-ubaidulloev-dushanbemayor-dismissal-civil-war-rahmon/28249742.html.

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follows, after infrastructure, we shall look at these two aspects—democracy and secularism—and see where they stand today.

INFRASTRUCTURE Serious infrastructure development in Tajikistan began immediately after the signing of the peace accord. The eight parks that existed in Dushanbe were the first places to be renovated, and two new parks were added. The statue of Lenin, which stood in one of the old parks in the center of the city, was replaced by a statue of Rudaki. Additionally, this park was expanded and short trees, bushes, and flower beds replaced the tall shady trees that gave the park its appeal. The other old parks, such as the Aini park, were renovated so thoroughly that little of their original shape remains. The two new parks, named after Ahmad Donish and Cyrus the Great, have their own attractions and by far surpass the renovated parks. They look spectacular, especially at night. Dushanbe’s public palaces were also renovated and new ones were added, including the Vahdat and Navruz palaces, both of which display exquisite woodwork and painting compositions created by Tajik masters. Soviet-era stores, like Sadbarg, were completely rebuilt; old bazaars, such as Barakat and Shomansur, and many local markets gave their places to large malls and stores, such as Sa’odat. Many amphitheaters were built, almost all administration buildings were renovated and many new ones were added. Some streets in the capital were expanded and appropriate squares and elaborate underpasses were added. Very little of the cozy Soviet Dushanbe has remained. Additionally, the city development plan stipulates that by 2040, the territory of Dushanbe will increase by 30 percent. The city will also receive brand new, comfortable buses,80 a far cry from the crowded buses of the 1990s. One scene I witnessed in Dushanbe speaks a great deal about the rapid infrastructure development. In 1993, avoiding the crowded buses, I used to walk from the Academy to my home on Ismo’il Somoni (now Nusratullo Makhsum) street. Along the way, day after day, I saw the same three young men sitting under a group of trees talking to each other. After a while I became curious. Why this particular spot and why those three young men? It turned out that they had a large bottle of gasoline placed strategically at the side of the road to sell gas to drivers who did not want to go to single-pump stations in Dushanbe’s 80 “The Territory of Tajik Capital Expected to be Extended by 12,300 ha by 2040,” Asia Plus, retrieved June 15, 2019, https://news.tj/en/news/tajikistan/power/20170522/240073.

The Path to Recovery

back alleys. They made money from the city’s inability to make gasoline available to the public. About five years later, two regular, multi-pump gas stations opened in Dushanbe. Today there are gas station chains operating regularly. At the district level, a systematic program of renovation, funded by wealthy community members, is put to work. The main streets in towns and villages, like the streets in the capital, are being covered with asphalt, schools are expanded and equipped with reading rooms, libraries, computer stations, and sports facilities, and students are required to wear school uniforms. In addition, hospitals are renovated and equipped not only with modern devices, but also with specialists, doctors, and nurses trained in Russia and, increasingly, in Tajikistan itself. Parents and children are held equally responsible for their public conduct. Almost all adults are engaged in teaching a craft they know or learning about some other craft with the help of their community. Everyone is trained, in one way or another, to contribute to the advancement of the nation. And everyone is directed to promote the style and the clothing of their region. Many sewing shops are opened to meet the growing demands from administrative workers, students, and the army for uniforms. As we have seen, during the Soviet era, the ethnic Tajiks were not significantly involved in industry. Everything was produced in other republics. For instance, the Tajiks were proud that their republic was distinguished by producing Pamir refrigerators. But the refrigerators were not designed in Tajikistan. Moreover, the workers who manufactured the refrigerators and the tradespeople who sold them were not ethnic Tajiks. To understand how that kind of project worked, consider the large and expansive Roghun (also Rogun) hydroelectric complex. The initial steps to build the complex were taken in 1959, but no work was done before the 1990s. Then the Soviet Union collapsed and the construction was halted. In the early 1990s, newspapers reported that the Russians involved in the project had left the construction site, taking back to Russia the equipment and the imported parts. In contrast, in recent years, the building of the Roghun project is making progress in earnest with Tajiks at the helm. The six projected aggregates of the complex, two already operational, will provide electricity to all southern Tajikistan as well as parts of Afghanistan and Pakistan.

SYSTEMATIC REFORMS In 1992, systematic reforms were the main demand of the Khujand representatives in the new government. The most important among the required reforms

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were the introduction of national and local democracy and secularism, alongside an independent legal system and media. At the time, the republic’s record for those issues was flawed, unsatisfactory, and poor. According to ratings provided by Freedom House, on a scale of 1 (highest) to 7 (lowest), Tajikistan still has a down-sliding democracy score: 6.14 (in 2009, nearly seventeen years after the peace treaty), 6.64 in 2017, and 6.79 in 2018.81 In this volume, we cannot undertake a comprehensive study of the different aspects of democracy such as governance, electoral process, civil society, media, or legal system in Tajikistan. Therefore, we shall only address two aspects of Tajikistan’s post-accord society: the likelihood for the achievement of democracy and the current status of secularism in the republic. Implementing systematic reforms was, perhaps, a more difficult task than developing the Tajik infrastructure. Infrastructure is neutral as to where capital originates, who oversees it, and how it is distributed. The only important thing is that the planned construction or renovation work is completed on time. If capital is available, fantastic structures routinely come to life. Building after building are constructed within a short time. Systematic reforms, on the other hand, are sensitive to economic, ideological, and social interactions among those who receive capital, manage it, and distribute it among workers and members of society at large. In other words, these reforms require that capital is distributed according to special criteria and values, either democratic (so that the distribution is guided by merit and an idea of equality) or flawed through nepotism and discrimination. Once appointed head of government, Rahmonov promised to stimulate the development of democracy and secularism. He was elected president in 1994 and was reelected in 1999. After the second term, according to the guidelines of Tajikistan’s Constitution (Article 65), Rahmonov should have stepped aside and let a new president in. However, following other Central Asian heads of state, such as Nursultan Nazarbayev, Rahmonov explained that Central Asian democracy was different from democracies elsewhere and that under the prevailing circumstances Tajikistan needed Rahmonov’s knowledge and international connections to attract funds, push the affairs of the republic forward and prevent the possibility of another civil war. In this way, Rahmonov won two other consecutive seven-year terms (2003), plus a third term in 2013, all this under allegations of stuffing the ballot boxes. In 2016, term limits were 81 Edward Lemon, “Nations in Transit Ratings and Averaged Scores,” retrieved June 8, 2019, https://freedomhouse.org/report/nations-transit/2018/tajikistan.

The Path to Recovery

altogether scrapped and Rahmon became president for life. This approach to the presidency is against the rules of democracy, as it discourages others from attaining their potential. It feels like being trapped in an emirate. In 1993, I could witness that Tajikistan’s democratic efforts were likely to fail because of at least three reasons: the existence of a mafia, the effects of perestroika, and the tense social situation associated with some Islamic groups. These were the elements that the Tajiks themselves, too, associated with the outbreak of the civil war.82 Earlier, Kenjaev reported corruption at the top, when acting as a consultant for President Mahkamov.83 A significant part of Rahmon’s mission was to stem the tide of corruption in the republic. But instead, he became involved in nepotism. While in Europe and the United States, nepotism is looked down upon and promotion through merit is advocated, in Tajikistan it has become the rule. After 1997, it propelled Rahmon to the top of the Democratic Party and the nation. Until 2017, Rahmon’s son, Rustam Emomali, held a senior position at the State Agency for Financial Control and Measures against Corruption and the Customs Service, but this was only a token post, easy to leave. In 2017, Rustam Emomali suddenly became the mayor of Dushanbe and it is possible that he will become the president of the republic. Another example is Rahmon’s daughter, Ozoda, and her husband Jamoliddin Nuraliev, a deputy to the chairman of the National Bank. The husband and wife have a great deal of influence over businessmen who own large enterprises and concerns. At one point, allegedly assisted by the president, Nuraliev tried to displace Assadullozoda who had controlled Tajikistan’s aluminum smelter since 2004.84 Yet another example is Rahmon’s sixth daughter, Zarina, who is the vice-chairperson of Orion Bank. Her husband Sievush Zuhurov is the son of the head of the communication services.85 Finally, Rahmon’s granddaughter recently married the son of the governor of Sughd, Abdurahmon Kadiri, as a gesture of reconciliation between south and north.86 82 See Appendix for further discussion. 83 Kenjaev, Tabaddulot, vol. 1, 16. 84 “Minfin ulichil TALKO v sokrytii dokhoda v milliard dollarov,” Asia Plus, retrieved June 2, 2019, https://news.tj/ru/news/tajikistan/economic/20161025/minfin-ulichil-talko-v-sokritiidohoda-v-milliard-dollarov. 85 “Zaria Rahmon muovini Hasa Asadullozoda shud,” Radio Ozodi, retrieved June 2, 2019, https://www.ozodi.org/a/zarina-rahmon-got-post-in-oriyonbank-/28622644.html. 86 “Kumovstvo pervogo sorta: brak vnukov Rahmona i Kodiri,” Sputniknews, retrieved June 2, 2019, http://ru.sputniknews-uz.com/world/20171122/6885246/svadba-vlasthudzhand-tadzhikistan-gosupravlenie.html.

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There is not enough space here to analyze how foreign donations are distributed among a limited number of individuals who control the banks and the building of the infrastructure.87 It is clear, however, that a lot of capital is changing hands, not always according to correct democratic rules. Under Rahmon’s rule, corruption has become more focused: capital distribution has become familial and regional, often both together. In familial corruption, reportedly, the president himself sets the example. For instance, Rahmon criticizes someone like Rajabali Odinaev, the owner of the Umed 88 gas stations. Odinaev is arrested. Soon after, his gas stations are taken over by a different company that happens to be owned by the president’s son-in-law Shamsullo Sohibov.88 The members of Rahmon’s family follow his lead. Regional corruption also thrives: under Rahmon, the Kulobis and the Dangharawis have the monopoly on decisions regarding placements in education, the judiciary, and the military. As they put familial and regional concerns first, the educational system suffers from bribery, the military faces hazing and kidnapping, and religious groups hear allegations of extremism.89 Using democratic rules, secularism creates harmony in the state. In simple terms, it means that clerics do not interfere in governmental affairs and government administrators do not interfere in religious affairs. Under secularism, people have the right to choose their religion and perform its rituals freely, and clerics are also free to offer spiritual guidance. Clerics can direct prayers, write religious tracts, and hold religious meetings. Similarly, government administrators can go about organizing the social, political, and economic affairs of the state, limited only by the concepts of human rights, law, and order. Secularism was impossible in 1992 because opposition members, most of whom were clerics, were necessarily included in the government. After the war ended in 1998, the opposition leaders were pardoned, but their places in the government were not guaranteed. In subsequent years, the opposition leaders

87 For further reading on the subject, see Martha Brill Olcott, Tajikistan’s Difficult Development Path (Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2012), and R. A. Price, Economic Development in Tajikistan. K4D Helpdesk Report 402 (Brighton, UK: Institute of Development Studies, 2018). 88 “Aktivist tadzhikskoi oppozitsii obvinil zhenu i ziatia Rahmona v reiderstve,” Fergananews, retrieved June 3, 2019, http://www.fergananews.com/news/27149. 89 Edward Lemon, “Transforming Tajikistan: How the Rahmon Regime Turned Religion into a Site of Struggle,” OpenDemocracy, retrieved June 15, 2019, https://www.opendemocracy. net/en/odr/transforming-tajikistan-islam/.

The Path to Recovery

were arrested on various charges and imprisoned. Eventually, in 2015, the IRPT was banned, eliminating the major opposition against the Democratic Party of Tajikistan, the president’s party. One could justify the ban as an inevitable measure to even the field before secularism could proceed smoothly. But that was not the reason. The problem was the clerics impeded democracy and used violence in politics: there was an attempt to eliminate Rahmon in April 1997 and two attempted coups in August 1997 and November 1998. This brought the family and fellow Kulobis to Rahmon’s aid. However, the support shown to Rahmon at this point later grew into nepotism, regionalism, and autocracy, with orders directed against the religious sector. Most significantly, Rahmon enabled the Tajik government to assign its own state-sanctioned muftis who read state-sanctioned lectures and performed state-sanctioned rituals. This imposition on the clerics by the government was against the rules of secularism, but the clerics brought it on themselves. If handled correctly, secularism can work miracles for maintaining stability in a nation. But if handled incorrectly, as was the case in Tajikistan, it can create an imbalance, pitting government and the clerics against each other. In present-day Tajikistan, there continues an intense struggle between the government and clerics who are not sanctioned by the state but who control silent communities that do not follow the dictates of the center. Recent reports indicate that research dealing with aspects of Islam has become difficult to carry out.90 Scholarly collaboration has become so difficult that local scholars tend to self-censor, while foreign scholars ask themselves whether they should cooperate with the authorities or give up all research in Tajikistan.91 No books, especially in the Arabic script, are allowed to enter or leave the country without permission, opposition groups are banned, religious groups are restricted, and the media is censored. A single allegation of extremism is likely to land a person in prison or be forced to leave the country. In building Soviet Tajikistan, the authorities knowingly disregarded maintaining a balance between Islamic ideology, the mainstay of Tajik culture, and the newly imposed socialism. This imbalance proved detrimental to the well-being of Soviet Tajikistan. The price paid was total destruction of the mega production complex in Qurghonteppa, devastation of the urban centers 90 Ibid. 91 Edward Schatz and John Heathershaw, “Academic freedom in Tajikistan endangered: what is to be done?,” OpenDemocracy, retrieved June 9, 2019, https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/ odr/academic-freedom-in-tajikistan-endangered/.

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in the south, and breakdown of the Tajik economy. To avoid another colossal failure, the Khujand group allowed representatives of the IRPT to participate in the government and voice the hopes of their constituents, a major segment of Tajikistan’s population. The task of keeping secularism vibrant in the post-war republic was put on the shoulders of the leader who pledged to create democracy and to abide by democratic rules. Democracy demands that every Tajikistani should be given a meaningful role in the administration of the state. Deviations from the democratic ideal of the Khujand representatives is likely to place Tajik leaders in the spot where Soviet Tajik leaders found themselves in the 1970s and 1980s. And yet, the imbalance between state and religion developing in present-day secular Tajikistan prevents the triumph of democracy. The lack of democratic coexistence cannot be masked by new parks and buildings as the flaws in the Soviets’ rule could not be masked by building the RPCT complex and making Qurghonteppa a model socialist city. Tajikistan is in the early stages of development. It is still too early to gauge the impact of the reforms. There are, however, indications as to which direction the reforms are taking. The development of new infrastructure for education, medicine, industry, and the arts is heartening. But the absence of systematic reforms makes even these advances discouraging. It is hoped that, within the decades to come, the Tajik society will reverse its sliding democracy score and maintain the balance between secularism and ideology that the Khujand representatives required. Let us not forget that Soviet Tajikistan was, in its early years the object of adoration for every Soviet man, woman, and child. For them, the infrastructure developments were a satisfactory indicator of the republic’s progress. In the long run, however, when the same people saw what effect the absence of systematic reforms had made in their lives, they were disappointed and rose against the authorities in large numbers. In the present day, too, the final judgment will be made by democratic-minded Tajiks in an atmosphere resembling the 1992 situation in Khujand. Let us hope they will be satisfied.

Appendix INTERVIEWS

B

y the time we moved to the Rahimovs, the political situation was stable enough for people to share their opinions. What follows is a sample interview that, to a degree, sums up many of the issues. I promised the interviewees that I would keep all names out of anything that I might write about Tajikistan regarding the contents of the interviews. The interview casts a look at the major personalities before it moves on to political issues. First of all, thank you for taking the time to do the interview. It will help me tremendously to understand the situation I am studying. I want to let you know that these conversations are taped for my personal future reference. Your conversation will be one of a number of interviews. In the future, when the study is complete, I intend to include a sample interview with elements from these conversations. It will not be any particular conversation and there will be no disclosure of the identity of the participants. With that said, let me begin. Shortly after I arrived in Dushanbe on April 9, 1993, I heard that in March Sangak Safarov and Faizali Saidov had killed each other. Who are Sangak and Faizali? Sangak and Faizali were warlords in the war in the south in the area of Qurghonteppa and Kulob. Sangak was Faizali’s superior. People say they killed each other over a misunderstanding. More likely they killed each other over the fact that Faizali was a warrior and Sangak was an organizer. Faizali disobeyed Sangak. What do you mean, Sangak was an organizer? He was not a warrior like Faizali. He was the one who mustered the Kulobi supporters of Nabiev and Kenjaev and brought them to Dushanbe. Did the killing happen when the two were alone? Apparently not. There must have been a barrage of bullets. Some ten or fifteen guards, too, were killed.

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Why do the Tajiks think so highly of Sangak? Because at age sixty-five he had eight children with yet another one on the way. He had suffered years of incarceration because of small, but consecutive infractions. The Kulobis promoted him and he used his popularity against the Khujandis. How about Turajonzoda? Who is he? He is a Kofarnihoni and the head of the Qoziyyot. He and Nabiev did not see eye to eye. As a result, the Muftiyyot and the presidency became enemies. That’s like Muslims and communists fighting each other. Nothing new. Give me an example of their fights. For example, in the Kenjaev case, Turajonzoda said to Nabiev that since Nabiev himself is from the north, he should choose someone other than ­Kenjaev to head the Supreme Soviet. But Nabiev went ahead and appointed Kenjaev. Where is Kenjaev from? He is a lawyer, isn’t he? What was wrong with that? Let me answer your first question. There are different stories about where Kenjaev is from, either Yaghnob or Hisor. Moving to your second question, the issue was not whether he was a lawyer or not. The issue was that he was not from the traditional place from which the heads of the Supreme Soviet were chosen, in relation to where the head of the state came from. He could have chosen a Badakhshani. Is Turajonzoda a Wahhabi? I don’t know. They say he is. I really don’t know much about Islam. What kind of a person is Kenjaev? I heard that he shot his way into Dushanbe. I actually saw the bullet holes on the walls in the city center. Kenjaev is a driven man. He is brash. Not abiding by rules. For a lawyer, that is unusual. He formed his own army and invaded Dushanbe from Hisor. According to Abdurahimov who was with him, he wanted to become president. If he had become president, he would have appointed Abdurahimov as his head of the Supreme Soviet. Was something wrong with that? Just imagine a well-known musician as the head of the Supreme Soviet. Lenin would have turned in his grave. Why isn’t Kenjaev around any more? Because he was shunned by the Supreme Soviet. After he was dismissed in Khujand, he lost all his prestige. After all, he used to be the head of the Supreme Soviet. Do you think he will make a come back?

Appendix

Who knows. He might get the Hisoris together and shoot his way back into Dushanbe. I don’t know. What about Rahmonov? There is really not a whole lot of information on him. He is educated; has served, I think, in the navy. But mostly a kolkhoz head. Like Nabiev? Yes, he is also a kolkhoz head. But Rahmonov is more foreward looking and very patriotic. Was he involved in the war? Very briefly. I think he was involved in the Norak confrontation. Why was he chosen as the leader of state? Because he gave a long speech at the Khujand meeting and, unlike everyone else, called for constructive measures, a secular government, and unity. Did he propose any constructive measures? I really don’t know. He must have. Can you describe for me your understanding of what caused the civil war? Certainly. The Russians have a proverb that says the fish rots from the head. In my opinion, two factors were instrumental. One was the perestroika and glasnost′ policy that started in Russia in the last decade. Its shockwaves awakened the Tajiks to the reality that the system that governed their lives was out of sync with the rest of the world. That was one thing. The other was giving the Islamic Renaissance Party national status, especially when the IRPT received support from the many parties and movements that sprung up in Tajikistan in the last few years. Why did Tajikistan fall apart while the other republics did not? It depended on the type of leadership they had. The leaders of the other republics were worthy, had foresight, and knew how to create unity among their people. They understood the meaning of freedom, rather than repeat the word. The Tajiks were divided. The leaders used the division for their own personal gain. Regionalism is often identified as one of the reasons for the out break of the civil war in Tajikistan. Do you agree? Of course, I agree. Regionalism had everything to do with the civil war. Look at it this way. Regionalism began in the 1930s and gradually grew until it dominated the social, political, and economic life of the republic. There was local regionalism and national regionalism. In the first case, individual or individuals strove to make themselves, their relatives, and their friends rich and prominent at the expense of the rest of the society. They were not concerned

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about the impact of their actions on their neighbors and on other families. In the case of the latter, the elite divided the republic along a north (primarily Leninobod)-south (primarily the Kuhiston) line. Matters progressed as if the south was incapable of producing even one leader, or even one lesser official. Did regionalism affect the political segment only, or …? No. It affected every segment. Even the ziois, the bastion of understanding. The poets, intellectuals, novelists and theater writers, all were affected. You could even mark on your map which regions were, and which were not favored by the authorities in Moscow. Regions like Kulob suffered tremendously while regions like Qurghoteppa garnered approval for the building of factories, plants, and other mechanized structures for the advancement of the Soviet plan. You mentioned perestroika and glasnost′. In what way did they affect Tajikistan? Tajikistan and fourteen other republics were held together by the Communist Party and the socialist system. They all followed the same administrative system both in the collective farming—kolkhozes and sovkhozes—and in the industrial centers. This system was efficient in its initial stages but, towards the end, it became inefficient, top heavy, and corrupt. The elite at the top of the pyramid suppressed the ones below. That kind of suppression is anathema to communist thought which encourages equality. They also corrupted the legislative and the judiciary powers. As for the media, it was already at their behest. To answer your question, perestroika and glasnost′ did not affect the Russians only. They taught the peoples in the Union as a whole that there were other avenues for the resolution of their social, political, and economic issues. They became aware of human rights, saw examples of proper use of the media, and freedom of choice. Just look around. See how many parties, movements, and newspapers have come to existence in just the last couple of years. Read these newspapers and you will see that rather than towing the Moscow line, each expresses a different trend, speaks about a different reality. How did the change affect the top of the pyramid of power? Initially, it did not. The president and the leaders of the Supreme Soviet, fearing that they might lose their positions, continued to abide by the old rules. On the contrary, Tajik youths were demanding change. They were tired of following dictations from above. Again, to answer your question, perestroika and glasnost′ exposed the inadequacies of the system as a whole. More specifically, it revealed the leaders’ lack of ability to even comprehend the extent of the inadequacy and the ignorance accumulated at the top. Let me put it this way, the leaders had been kolkhoz and sovkhoz managers trained to keep the workers’ noses to the grind. They were completely unfamiliar with

Appendix

the dynamics of the changes that were taking shape around them. Rather than try to gradually include the new trends and discard the old, they were rejecting the new and strengthening the old. That system was effective in keeping the old Communist Party members in line, but it was deaf to the cries of the new technocrats demanding attention to human rights and individual freedom. In short, rather than the base that in such cases crumbles, here the top of the pyramid crumbled. The base was strong enough, culturally and spiritually, to absorb the shock. The shock, of course, is the civil war that is going on. I believe we will survive it. Can you give me a short history of Wahhabism? As far as I know, Wahhabization, as opposed to Wahhabism, started in the 1970s. Of course, before all that, religion was separate from government and people were not allowed to pray. Mosques and schools were closed. People were so afraid that when they wanted to pray they locked the doors because their own neighbors might report them to the KGB. When, after perestroika, religion became free, people started to open the mosques and everyone took refuge in Islam. At the end of those dark days, in the south of Tajikistan, a number of mullahs appeared in Qurghonteppa and organized a group called Sozmoni Javononi Ozod (Free Youth Organization). Its founder was Mullah Abdullo Nuri. I was told that Wahhabism in Tajikistan started with rumors. Is that true? “It is. And it is not. After the October Revolution, to be exact, after 1937, the mullahs of Tajikistan split into three groups. A good number of them fled to Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia. A small group remained in Tajikistan and went into hiding; they rarely appeared in public. The third group became what we call hypocrites. They sold out to the Soviet government. They worked for the KGB, on the one hand, and masqueraded as the leaders of the Islamic communities in various regions, on the other hand. … Do you mean they were KGB agents among the people? I cannot put it that strongly. No. They did KGB’s bidding. … Did they work in mosques? Not exactly. Because mosques had become Soviet show-places for foreign tourists. … So what does that have to do with Wahhabization, as you put it? “I am getting there. When circumstances changed, the mullahs who were in hiding surfaced and confronted the hypocrites. The hypocrites lacked the knowledge that the revivalists had gained about new trends in the Muslim world. They also were not aware about the teachings of Maududi and Sayyed Qutb that were circulating in the underground meetings in Ferghana and

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other places, especially among the Muslims of Russia. In short, like all Soviet authorities, the Soviet clerics were behind the times. Are you talking about the founding of the Sozmoni Javononi Ozod? I am. And so, to cut a long story short, the hypocrites labeled the revivalists ‘Wahhabis.’ This, of course, is my interpretation, I may be wrong … I was told that there were disputes not just over creed but also over sums. Is that true? Yes. But that was a side issue. In Tajikistan, when someone dies, especially someone wealthy, a major tuy is given. In the past, the hypocrite mullahs charged the participants, usually in hundreds ten sums each. In this way, the hypocrite mullahs earned large amounts of money attending various religious functions: births, weddings, wakes, and the like. The new mullahs ended this practice, stating that Islam does not specify any payment for reciters of the Qur’an. In other words, the mullah who recites the Qur’an for the benefit of a deceased should not expect any payment. To set an example, the newcomers recited the Qur’an at all such occasions free of charge. In retaliation, the hypocrites labeled the ‘intruders’ Wahhabis. …” I have read a lot about the ziois. What role did they play? They are a sorry lot steeped in realism. Only their realism is in describing the society as you describe a static picture. They are blind to the message of the picture. In other words, they portrayed things as they saw them, but did not grasp why things were the way they were. I don’t know if I am making sense. All of them: the intellectuals, poets, writers, journalists, and critics slavishly followed the dictates of their communist lords and saw only what they were shown. Their understanding of the “real” and what the youth of Tajikistan envisaged as “real” were absolutely in conflict. The ziois believed that communism can be retained and reformed, and that socialism can help achieve the good life. The youth believed in democracy, equality, rule of law, freedom, secularism, and human rights. Once it became clear that the government’s set of values was incompatible with the values of the Islamic Renaissance Party, which was supported by other parties, movements, and the media, the situation became chaotic and a meltdown became inevitable. The question was whether a band of freedom seekers was strong enough to withstand the pressure from the government and its allies. Did Moscow interfere? It did, and not just in Tajikistan, but in all the former republics. Former Soviet leaders, now in independent republics, were encouraged to interfere in affairs. They were ordered to strengthen the central executive committees

Appendix

and hold onto the reigns until help arrived. Keeping the youth from expressing their sentiments, however, even in the face of Soviet bullets, was not possible any more. The February 1990 incident, for instance, was an uprising similar to the Almaty uprising in Kazakhstan in 1986. The 1990 incident was crushed by using arms. The youth who had caused it were labeled hooligans and drug addicts while, in reality, they were ordinary people seeking a new destiny. They refused to abide by the old laws simply because their parents had believed in them and had little to show for their complicity. What role did foreign influence play in all that? Foreigners seeking new opportunities in Tajikistan talked to the Tajiks about entrepreneurship, private business, and creating cooperatives. Starting any of those ventures required permission from the government. When people approached the state for permission, they did not get reasonable, civil responses. Looking at the empty shelves in the state stores and comparing that with the world that the potential foreign investors promised made the citizens angry. Did ideologues and missionaries play a role? Ideologues and missionaries tried to use the vacuum created by the weakening of communism to their advantage. The system used some of their preaching against the opposition. For instance, they call everyone a Wahhabi. Some say Wahhabis are in a small, tight community of strict Muslim faithful. Others say we are all Hanafi. At the present, we don’t know what we are. This is the situation more in the qishloqs than in cities like Dushanbe. Nevertheless, many have been killed, and are being killed because of the confusion. How did the people cope with all that? It depended entirely on the circumstances. With abstract matters, they exercised patience, hoping that matters will find their natural resolutions. With mundane matters, like finding groceries, they had two options. One was to purchase what they needed where they saw it in the black market at exorbitant prices, or stand in long lines in front of the empty stores, hoping that the amount of produce will last long enough for them to buy some. Is that how the mafia took over the bazaar? Exactly. It began with hoarding, an illegal act. Followed by bribery, another illegal act that involved government officials. The rest is history. Tell me about the Government of National Reconciliation The conflict between the Soviet government and the opposition forces was resolved with the formation of a coalition government. This was the old governmental structure reconstituted to accommodate non-communist

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members and concepts. For instance, Nabiev remained as president, but Kenjaev and Dustov, his main supporters were forced to resign. With the departure of those around him, Nabiev became vulnerable. Eventually, he could no longer work with the opposition and tried to flee to Khujand. They stopped him at the airport and forced him to resign. Is the coalition government the same as the constitutional government? No. The government that emerged from the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet in Khujand is the constitutional government. The coalition government was rejected by the majority of the people. Why did the coalition government fall? Although the coalition government lasted for some six months, it was not accepted by the Khujandis and the Kulobis. A contingent of Kulobis and Hisoris invaded Dushanbe and forced the coalition government to hold the Sixteenth Supreme Soviet in Khujand. Once in session, the Supreme Soviet dismissed the coalition government, retained the old Soviet constitution, and rather than restore the pre-May 7, 1992, government, it established a new government with a new leader. And that leader is Emomali Rahmonov? He is. Thank you for sharing your time and your thoughts with me. In general, I found most Tajiks to be very well versed in social and political affairs of their state. At the time, however, due to the uncertainty of the careers of Nabiev and later Rahmonov, even though the latter was an advocate of secular rule, they were not willing to share their thoughts with reporters and researchers. I was lucky in that regard because I found the answers to my hard questions in my analyses of Kenjaev’s volumes.

Glossary Abbos  Name of Prophet Muhammad’s uncle. During the Karbala event, under difficult circumstances, he brought water to the thirsty family Aksakal  (lit., white beard) old man; elder within a group with limited decision making authority Alifboi niokon Alphabet used by the ancestors (of the Tajiks) Altin kiz Golden girl Altin Orda Golden Horde; army of Mongol Tartars that overran eastern Europe Amaldor District tax collector supervised by the bek Amaldori District center where taxes were paid Amir  Provincial governor; army commander; ruler of a small, independent state Amlokdor Land manager; landowner Amonat  Trust; placing an individual or property with someone for security or profit An’anah Cultural tradition Arg Citadel; fortification Armatura Armature Mukhtar Auezov (1897–1961) Auezov was a Kazakh writer and social activist. He was an expert on the Kyrgyz epic Manas and a major promoter of the efforts of Abai Kunanbayev. His “The Path of Abai” describes how Kunanbayev led the Kazakhs in their adoption of Russian and European ways. Avtomat Gun Awliya’ Religious authorities; friends of God Bai Notable; Central Asian nobleman

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Bain al-Nahrain (lit., between two rivers) Mesopotamia Barakah Special blessing Bardak Turkish word for a drinking mug Basmachi Movement Muslims Uprising in Central Asia (1916) against Tsarist Russia and later against the Soviet Union. It ended at the end of the 1920s Batir/Batyr Hero; young warrior Bek  Province supervisor, assigned by Amir, supervised by qushbegi Bekdom  Province under the supervision of a bek assigned by the amir Bey Noble man; Central Asian title Bii Central Asian judge Boi Master, lord Bonak  A worker who constantly receives advances and is always in debt to his master. At the end he becomes a slave of his master Cadre  Trained personnel for particular purposes or professions Choi Tea Choikhona  Teahouse, favorite place for men to relax and talk. During the early days of Soviet rule, red choikhonas were centers of intense propaganda. Dacha  (in Russia) cottage used as a second or vacation home Dahyak  Scholarship granted to theological students in Bukhara Da’wah  Invite people to understand Islam and be informed about prophet Muhammad Daroznakh Long-fiber (cotton) Divan Cabinet (of ministers) Dohi Genius; reference to V. I. Lenin Dolmah Rolled grape leaves Eslomi Islamic Faranji/Paranja  Cover (usually head to toe) for women; a veil; hijab

Glossary

Fatwa A religious ruling; opinion of a judge Fiqh Corpus of Islamic jurisprudence; discipline of explaining the Shari’a Firdowsi, Abu al-Qasim (d. 1020) National epic poet of the Iranian peoples; author of the Shahname (book of kings) Ghulom (pl. Ghulomon) slave Glasnost′ Openness Gosplan State Planning Agency Hadith  Traditions related to the Prophet and his companions Hamadani, Sayyid Mir Ali (1314–1384) A Sufi poet of the Kubraviyya order. He was born in Hamadan, Iran, and is buried in Khatlon, Tajikistan Haromkhor Profiteer Hashar  Mobilization of the population for such communal acts as cleaning the city streets, planting flowers, and digging ditches. Hofiz Singer; reciter Hujum Assault on traditional ways Ibn Sina (Avicenna) (980–1037) Iranian physician and philosopher Id Festivity; celebration Id al-Fitr Celebration held at the end of Ramadan (see Ramadan) Ilahi Divine Il khan Chief of tribe Imomkhatib Community prayer leader Ishon  Spiritual guide; Muslim clergyman; head of a Sufi order Iurchik A derogatory term in Tajikistan referring to non-Muslims: communists, atheists, Christians, and Jews Jadidists  Reformist group in Bukhara of Amir Olim Khan Jabayev, Jambul (1846–1945) Controversial Kazakh Akyn (poet, musician) famous in the 1930s for his pro-Soviet and pro-Stalin lyrics Juvozkash One who extracts oil from (cotton) seeds. Jihad Holy war

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Juy  A brook; a small stream in an alley or at the side of a street Kalom Questions related to theology and cosmology Kalym Bride purchase price Karakul A breed of sheep raised for its wool Khan Tribal chief Khwaja Progeny of the Rashidun caliphs Kolkhoz Soviet collective farm (privately owned) Kombinat Factory, conglomerate Kotib Scribe Kuhiston  Mountainous region of the kingdom of Bukhara Kulak  Wealthy peasant who resisted collectivization Kunanbayev, Abai (1845–1904) Kazakh Akyn (poet, musician) and philosopher instrumental in familiarizing the Kazakhs with Russian and European cultures. Lahuti, Abulqosim (1887–1957) Iranian poet and political activist during Iran’s Constitutional revolution. Later, a Marxist poet, political activist, and contributor of modern Tajik poetry. Madhab Sect; a school within a religion Madrasa Islamic theological school Mahinnakh Thick-fiber (cotton) Maktab Traditional Islamic elementary school Mankurt Ignorant Maska Butter Matin Steadfast Mazor Shrine; tomb of a saint Mirob Water distribution chief Mirshab Chief of police Mirzo Secretary Mirzoboshi Head secretary Mufti  One who delivers a religious ruling (fatwa); head of the three Sunni directorates of the former Soviet Union; jurisprudent Mujtahid  one who practices ijtihad through interpre-

Glossary

tive reasoning; authority in Shi’ite law and tradition; head of the Shi’ite directorate in the Soviet Union Mulla(h)  An Islamic priest; Muslim trained in religious law and doctrine Mushrif Informer Nikohi Concubine Nomenklatura  Influential Soviet government posts filled by communist party appointees Oblast’ Russian subdivision of a governor-general’s domain. Osh A meal consisting of rice, carrots, and meat Ozod  Free; a worker who is not tied to the owner through debt (cf., bonak) Ozodi Freedom; a square in Dushanbe where the pro-communist group gathered Ozodikhoh Democratic minded Pagoh Tomorrow Perestroika Reconstruction Piyola Tajik word for cup Posiyolka Tajik version of poselok; industrial city Qishloq Village; winter quarters Qiyas Analogy Qodi/Qozi Judge in a Shari’a court Qopuz  A fretless string instrument used by the Kazakhs and the Kyrgyz Qozikalon Chief judge Qoziyyot The domain of a judge; a judge’s office Qanbar  Name of a freedman of Imam Ali, the first saint of the Shi’ites Qur’an The Koran; the holy book of the Muslims Qushbegi Prime minister of the Amir of Bukhara Ra’is  Mayor; semi-religious, semi-administrative official in charge of ethics Ramadan Month of fasting for Muslims Ra’y Independent opinion; vote Raion District; administrative unit within a viloyat or oblast’

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Rigistan  Main square in Central Asian cities, especially Samarqand and Bukhara Risolah Dissertation; a religious tract Rohi Sapid Bon voyage; said to a person embarking on a journey Rosti gap To tell the truth Ruble  Russian currency; currency various varieties of which were used in the former republics of the Soviet Union; see sum Rudaki, Abu Abdullah (858–941) Pioneer genius of Modern Persian poetry. Rudaki flourished at the court of the Samanids Ruhoniun (Sing. Ruhoni) Spiritual leaders; the clergy Sanbuse/Sambuse  A dish consisting of fried, boiled or baked pastry with vegetables, meat and spices as filler. Sardori davlat Head of government Sart  A term in Central Asia applied to people (mostly Uzbek and Tajik) with mixed ethnic identity Sayyid Progeny of the Prophet Sovkhoz Soviet collective farm (state owned) Shahidon  Martyrs; name of a square in Dushanbe where Islamist groups gathered Sharh Commentary on religious texts Shi’ism/Shi’ite  Belief in the necessity of caliphs being descendants of the Prophet Shohi  Silk; woven silk strips used to decorate dresses and kerchiefs Shohibofi  Silk factory; factory where shohi is produced Shari’a The way; Islamic law Sliianie Merging Soviet Council Sufi  A divorcée; one who believes in the possibility of direct cognition of the godhead Sum Pronounced [soom], as in “room”; a unit of currency; a variety of ruble marked as sum

Glossary

for Tajikistan. The value was determined by individual republics Sunna  Words, deeds, and silent approval of Prophet Muhammad Tabaddolat Coup d’état Tabii Natural Tanga  In Bukhara, in 1920, one tanga was equivalent to 1/5th of a ruble Taqiyyah  Dissimulation; hiding one’s true religious identity to avoid danger (allowed by Sh’ite law) Tawhid Oneness of God Tillo  Bukharan gold coin equivalent to eighteen tangas. Tuy  Ceremony (various types: circumcision, wedding, death); festival Ulema (pl. of ‘alim) scholars in theology Ulus Governorship Umron Renovation Ustod  Professor, master, teacher; an individual with high professional standing Usuli Jadid New method Usuli Qadim Old method Valikhanov, Chokan (1835–1865) Famous Kazakh historian and ethnographer. The Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan is named after him. Viloyat  Province or oblost’ consisting of districts (raion) Waqf Religious endowment Wufchik Derogatory term in Tajikistan referring to radical Hanafi Muslims mistakenly identified as Wahhabis; derogatory term referring to members of the Wahhabi community. Yassa (Yassaq)  Traditional Mongol law originally set forth by Tengri (primary deity of a pantheon of gods) through Genghis Khan Yurt (Yurta) A round tent that can be pitched quickly Zakat  One of the five pillars of Islam; obligatory

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alms given as prescribed by Islamic law to assist the needy Zakatchi A collector of zakat Ziois Intellectuals of Tajikistan. Their reactions to situations are watched carefully by the general public. Ziyorat Place of pilgrimage; shrine

List of Abbreviations ABC ABC Schools where, using ABC books of Communism, the three R’s of communism were taught CCDFT Coordination Center of the Democratic Forces of Tajikistan CIS Commonwealth of Independent States CNR Commission on National Reconciliation CPSU Communist Party of the Soviet Union CPT Communist Party of Tajikistan GBAO Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Oblast’ (The Badakhshan highlands) GDP Gross Domestic Products GNR Government of National Reconciliation IREX International Research and Exchanges Board IRP Islamic Resurgent Party (of Russia) IRPT Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan KGB  Komitet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti (Committee for State Security) LYO Liberated Youth Organization MIRT Movement for Islamic Revival in Tajikistan MIA Ministry of Interior Affairs MTS Machine Tractor Station NSC National Security Committee OIC Organization of the Islamic Conference OSCE Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe PFT Peoples Front of Tajikistan RPCT Regional Productions Complex in Tajikistan SADUM The Spiritual Administration of the Muslims of Central Asia and Kazakhstan SSR Soviet Socialist Republic UAR Umed Association of Refugees

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UN USSR UTO VIP

United Nations Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics United Tajik Opposition Very Important Person

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315

Index Abi Dara, 91 Abdughaffor, Mullo, 176 Abdujabbor, Tohir, 142, 144, 152–153, 156, 161, 231 Abdulahad (amir), 37, 51, 60, 66n48, 69–81 Abdul-Qadir Bidel, 115 Abdulloev, Faizullo, 179, 211 Abdullojonov, Abdumalik, 193, 195, 199–201, 204, 269, 277 Abdumalik Tura, 66 Abduqadirov, Holizoda, 231 Abduqodir Muhiddinov, 104–105 Abdurahimov, Rustam, 164, 172, 181– 182, 184, 187, 189–192, 194–196, 199, 203, 208, 211–212, 215, 292 Abdurrahim Hojiboev, 104 Abkik, 130 Abramov, Aleksandr K. (General), 67 Abulfaizkhan, 52 Abu Hanifa, 108, 282 Abu Yousef, 108 Adolat, 31, 174n119–120, 231 Academy of Sciences of Tajikistan, 4–5, 28, 44, 116, 170, 249 Academy of Sciences of Kazakhstan, 5, 7, 41, 305 Academy of Sciences of Kyrgyzstan, 14–15 Afghanistan, 25, 51, 53, 63–64, 67, 69, 73, 82, 85–86, 89, 91–92, 94, 99, 113, 127–128, 134–136, 150, 190,

215, 218, 231, 233, 238, 242–243, 245, 251–252, 256–258, 262–264, 267, 270, 273, 276, 279, 285, 295 Afghonov, Suhrob, 208 Afshar, Nadir Shah, 52 Aga Khan, Karim, 259 Agriculture, 25, 32–33, 45, 56, 61–62, 66, 88, 90, 95, 100–103, 105–106, 112, 114, 119, 122, 126–130, 137, 156, 220–221, 227, 233, 242, 247, 252, 255, 278 Aini Opera and Ballet Theatre, 46–47 Aini, Kamol, 22 Aini, Sadriddin, 4, 13, 16–18, 21–32, 37, 60n26, 60n29, 63n35–37, 64, 65n44, 66n47, 67n51, 67n53, 71n62, 72n64, 76–78, 82–83, 87, 93, 101, 106, 120–121 Aitmatov, Chingiz, 13, 28, 225n14, 230, 232, 254 Ajik, Mullo, 208 Akayev, Askar, 264 Akbarov, Haidarsho, 164 Aktau, 14 Aliev, Abbos, 37 alifboi niokon, 151 Almaty (Alma-Ata), 5–11, 14, 21, 23, 35, 41, 270–271, 273, 279, 297 Altin Kiz, 8, 10 Aminov, Jurabek, 204 Amirbekov, Atobek, 169, 233 Amu Daryo, 66, 69, 102, 127

318

The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan Anglo-Russian Convention of 1872, 69 Anorgul, 74 Anzob, 126–127, 174, 189, 195, 199, 213, 253 Apsamat, 8–10, 12 Arg, 53–54, 63, 81, Ashkabat, 91, 271, 273–274, 279 Asht, 175 Ashtarkhanids, 52 Ashurov, Davron, 158, 179, 197, 203 Ashurov, Muhriddin, 203–205 Ashurov, Urumbai, 105 Aslonov, Qadriddin, 138, 142–143, 151–153, 210 Atheism, 13–14, 27, 87, 93, 96–97, 100, 113, 119–126, 133, 145, 148, 150, 215, 220, 224–226, 266 Atobek, Amirbek, 156, 233 Auezov, Mukhtar, 8, 299 August Coup, 138, 143, 150–151, 155 Ayoubzod, Salim, 263 Awqof, 26 Azimov, Amirqul, 183, 189 Badakhshan, 25, 53, 65–66, 94, 127–128, 137, 151, 153–156, 158, 160, 174, 177, 202, 204, 223, 229, 233, 240, 244, 246, 259, 307 Badriddin (Qozi), 78 Baghokhoja, 78 Bain al-Nahrain, 53, 300 Baljuon, 65, 67–68, 72–75 Barakat (market), 22, 36, 284 Bashiri, Carol, 1, 6–9, 11–13, 15–17, 20–22, 29–30, 32, 34, 37, 39, 42 Basmachi, 22, 59, 81, 84–86, 90–94, 98–99, 106, 115, 133, 148, 300 Batu Khan, 52 Bek, 55, 70–75, 300

Beloyusov, Bakhtior, 168 Beshkent, 130 Biruni, Aburaihan, 87, 95 Bishkek, 14–16, 260, 277 Boighozi, 100 Boimatov, Ibod, 259 Bolshevik, 31, 51, 84–86, 225 Boqimuhammad, 52 Borbad, 3–4 Bozukin, Volodia, 32 Broydo, Grigory, 105 Bukhara (city of), 4–5, 13, 21–28, 30–32, 37–40, 51–94, 97, 99, 102, 104–107, 115, 117, 120, 131, 138, 150, 215, 224, 280 Bukhara, Eastern, 51, 53, 67, 69–72, 75, 85–86, 89, 102 Bukhara, Emirate of, 22, 25, 51–89, 94, 107, 115, 131, 280 Bukharin, Nikolai, 106 Burhanuddin, 78, 264, 270 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 266, 269 Cadre, 7, 25n17, 99, 114, 138, 145, 147, 149, 208, 210, 214, 219–221, 223, 225, 242, 248, 254, 300 Centralization, 59, 62 Chaghatai, 53 Charju, 15 Charkhy, Ya’qub, 116 Cherniaiev, Mikhail Grigorievich, 64 Chernyshev (deputy foreign minister), 267, 269 Chimkent, 65 China, 99, 229, 233, 245, 253, 282 Chkalovsk, 106–107, 140 Choikhona, 13, 27, 300 Chorbog, 115 Chorkor, 197 Choryakkoron, 197

Index Commission on National Reconciliation (CNR), 261, 267, 275–277, 280–281 Communist Manifesto, 26, 96, 100, 220, 266 Communist Party of Tajikistan (CPT), 27, 89, 105, 114, 136–139, 156, 175, 220, 225, 228–230, 234, 236–237, 260 Constitution, 88, 158, 164, 166, 170, 172, 180, 182–192, 208, 211, 215, 216, 234–235, 240–242, 245, 250–251, 253, 258–259, 265–266, 268–272, 276, 286, 298 Crimea, 52, 64, 76 Danghara, 45, 194, 206, 288 Dar al-Shifa (library), 61 Darvoz, 65, 68–69, 75, 128, 270 Democracy, 51, 83–84, 87, 90–92, 117–118, 136, 140, 142–143, 148, 150–155, 157, 170, 173, 183, 211, 216, 228n17, 229, 231, 234, 237–238, 244–246, 251, 256, 263, 265–266, 272, 276, 279, 282–284, 286–290, 296 Democratic Party, 155–156, 162, 169, 174, 228, 229, 231, 233, 236, 287, 289 Dihnau, 74 Dohi (V. I. Lenin), 88, 150, 153, 300 Donish, Ahmad, 17, 60n25, 63–64, 65n43, 68, 70n60, 74–77, 87, 284 Dostiev, Abdumajid Salimovich, 259, 262, 265, 269, 278 Durrani, Ahmad Shah, 53 Dushanbe, 1–3, 13–18, 20, 22–41, 43–45, 74, 91, 94, 103, 105–106, 116–120, 122, 126–128, 131–132, 136, 138, 140, 143, 149–150, 153– 154, 158–159, 162, 164–166, 168,

170, 175, 177–179, 181, 183–196, 198–206, 208, 210–217, 222–224, 226–227, 229, 231–233, 237–239, 241, 243–247, 254, 259–261, 263–264, 269, 277, 282–285, 287, 291–293, 297–298 Dust, Dustmuhammad, 161 Dustov, Narzullo, 154–163, 167–169, 171–172, 175–176, 239–240, 298 Emomali, Rustam, 283, 287 Engels, Friedrich, 96, 109n58 Faizaliev, Sherali, 208 Farkhor, 129 Ferdowsi, 2, 3, 22, 36, 41, 45, 101, 224 Ferghana valley, 52, 84, 108, 115, 118, 124, 125, 149, 240, 295 Fitrat, Abdura’uf, 63n34, 64, 67n52 Frunze, Mikhail Vasilyevich, 86 Gasprinski, Isma’il, 76, 82 Ghafurov, Bobojon, 84n94, 90, 113–120, 227 Gharm, 106, 107, 121, 124, 125, 137, 138, 147, 151, 154, 155, 246, 256 Ghijduvan, 85 Ghozimalik, 137, 188, 201 Ghuzor, 74 Glasnost´, 115, 138, 143, 150, 155, 210, 217–218, 225, 228, 231, 233, 236, 293–294, 301 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 135, 138, 143, 150, 210, 236 “Govkushon” (library), 61 Habibov, A., 164, 179 Habibulloev, Hamidullo, 231 Habibulloev, Ismat, 179 Hait, 113 Hakim, Mirzo Siroj, 77

319

320

The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan Hamadani, Mir Sayyid Ali, 45, 301 Hanafi (faith), 27, 43, 55, 90, 93, 94n17, 107–109, 116, 118, 122, 124–125, 136–137, 140, 144, 148–150, 153, 157, 185–187, 202, 215, 218, 225–226, 240, 297 Hanbal, Ahmad, 108 Hanbali (faith), 93, 107–109, 124, 144, 148 Hanifa, Abu, 108, 282 Hayoev, Izatullo, 141, 152 Hikmatyar, 134–135 Himmatzoda, Muhammadsharif, 117, 152, 156, 161, 169, 232, 263 Hindustoni, Muhammad, 115–118 Hisor, 3, 67, 69, 72, 74–75, 85–86, 101, 121, 126–128, 139, 155, 162, 181–184, 188–192, 195, 197, 201, 202, 204–206, 208, 210–214, 240, 244–245, 274, 292–293, 298 Homidov, A. M., 203 Homidov, Khalifabobo, 231 Hujum, 98, 301 Husseinov, 189 Husynov, 93 Huvaidulloev, Nurullo, 171–172, 174–176, 181, 216, 239 Ibrahim Beg, 106 Ibrohim, Qori, 173 Identity, 3, 4, 7, 13, 48–49, 60, 88–89, 94, 105, 107, 111, 121, 219, 226, 228 Ideology, 2, 27, 103, 105, 108, 122, 124, 134, 225, 231, 238, 242, 289–290 Ikrom, Muhammad, 77 Ikromi, Jalol, 28 Ikromov, Maqsud (mayor of Dushanbe), 151–153, 175, 210 Ikromov, Zafar, 207–209 Imomov, Chinor, 104 Infrastructure, 119, 240, 263, 266, 282–286, 288, 290

Iran (Islamic Republic), 44, 48–49, 55, 68, 71, 78, 92, 155, 196, 203, 214, 218n7, 226, 231, 232, 233, 238, 245, 251–252, 258, 262, 264, 267, 269, 275, 278–280, 283, 295 IREX (International Research & Exchanges Board), 1, 13, 19, 29 Irjar, 65 IRPT (Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan), 116, 136–137, 139, 144–145, 148, 151, 154–156, 169, 173, 175, 217, 228–230, 232, 234, 236–238, 254, 261, 283, 289–290, 293, 296 Isfara, 114, 126, 142, 145 Ishoqov, Boturjon, 198, 201, 208 Ishoqov, Ikrom, 208 Iskandar Bek, 8–12 Iskandarov, Akbarsho, 172–173, 177, 181, 202, 204, 212 Iskandarov, 162, 172–173, 177, 179, 181, 187–188, 198–207, 209, 212, 246 Islam, 2, 8, 13, 19, 21, 24, 27, 49, 51, 53, 57, 60–61, 80, 90, 93–94, 97–100, 105, 107–112, 116–119, 121–125, 133–134, 137–138, 143–145, 148– 149, 162, 186, 196, 202, 215, 217, 218, 224–227, 230–233, 238–240, 250, 282, 289, 292, 295, 296 Islamabad, 269–270, 279 Islamism, 80, 91, 99, 118, 139, 142, 151, 166, 185, 187, 200, 204, 210, 213, 225, 234, 235, 241, 266 Islamization, 52, 138 Isma’ilis, 27, 55, 144, 233, 240, 259 Ismon(ov), Davlati, 152, 156, 160–161, 165, 179, 187, 262, 276 Ispijak, 197 Iurchik, 27, 186, 301 Jabayev, Jambul, 8, 301 Jadidist, 31, 51, 76–77, 79, 81–84, 90, 92, 99, 105, 301

Index Jalolov, Abdulhossein (Bokhtar), 137 Javonbukhorion, 81, 83. See also Young Bukharans Jilikul, 137, 183, 188, 190 Jizzakh, 65 Joltas Khan, 8–10, 12–13 Jomi, 208, 211 Kabul, 86, 270, 279 Kadiri, Abdurahmon, 287 Kalininabad, 131, 173–174 Karim, Buri, 140–142, 171n109, 172n111–112, 173n115–117, 174n121, 176n128, 177n136, 178n141, 181n1, 209n85–86, 211–212, 229n18–19, 237, 238n5, 241n11, 259 Karimov, Jamshid, 176 Karminah, 64, 67, 78–80 Katta-Qurqon, 66 Kashmir, 115, 117 Kazakhstan, 1, 5–8, 12–14, 41, 43–44, 92, 123, 242, 244, 251–252, 254, 264, 267, 271 Kenjaev, Safarali, 43, 49–50, 143–177, 179–180n142–143, 181–203, 206– 216, 224, 226–227, 234, 239–240, 287, 291–292, 298 Khairulloev, S., 161, 169, 179 Khatlon, 182, 301 Khiva, 30, 52–53, 55n12, 73 Khojaev, Faizullo, 83, 85, 92–93 Kholiqov, Muhammadjon, 153 Khoromov, Albert, 3–4 Khorugh, 154, 174, 233, 246, 260, 268 Khosdeh, 276, 278–279 Khovaling, 71, 74–75 Khudoberdiyev, Mahmud, 259–260 Khudonazarov, Davlat, 3, 18, 153–155, 165, 168–169, 171, 231, 233 Khujand, 15–18, 21, 29, 45–46, 65–66, 69, 89, 105–107, 120, 137–140,

155n46, 172, 178, 181–182, 184, 187, 198–201, 204–214, 222, 231, 234–235, 240–241, 242n15, 249–251, 253, 260, 265, 268, 280, 282, 285, 290, 292–293, 298 Khujandi, Kamal, 46–48 Khuttalon, 74 Kimiiagarov, Bentsiion Arievich, 3 Kinegas, 62, 67 Kinostudio, 3–4, 18 Kittani, Ismat, 266 Kofarnihon, 91, 100, 117–118, 130, 142, 162, 165, 174, 177, 183, 189, 192–193, 198, 206 Kogon, 81–82 Kolesov, Fyodor Ivanovich, 83, 85 Kolkhozes, 24, 28, 30, 88, 96, 103–105, 129–130, 145, 153, 159, 186, 197, 221, 229, 236–238, 241, 280, 283, 293–294, 302 Kosimov, S., 278 Kosimova, Marvorid, 2 Koval, Ivon, 121 Kuhiston, 37, 59, 65, 69, 74, 95, 104, 122, 126–127, 130, 219, 223–244, 294, 302 Kuibishev, 231 Kulob, 18, 20–21, 25, 33, 45, 67, 72n63, 73–75, 78, 86, 101, 119, 122, 128–130, 137, 139, 142, 151, 154, 158, 162, 171–173, 175, 178, 181, 184–185, 188–193, 195–196, 198–199, 201–204, 207–208, 210– 211, 214, 217, 222–223, 227, 231, 240–241, 253, 263, 283, 288–289, 291–292, 294, 298 Kunanbayev, Abai, 7, 12, 299, 302 Kyrgyzstan, 1, 5, 8, 13–15, 92, 242, 244–245, 251, 264, 267, 271, 277 Lahuti, Abulqasim, 93, 101, 104, 120–121, 302

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The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan La’li Badakhshon (movement), 153–155, 156, 169, 229, 233 Langariev, Langari, 177, 181, 187–191, 194–195, 198–201, 207–208, 211 Language law, 20, 133, 139, 223 Latifi, Otakhon, 152, 164, 170, 263, 268 Laqai, 69, 75 Lenin, Vladimir, 6, 22, 88–89, 91–92, 104, 110, 117, 122, 139, 150–151, 153, 162, 165, 197, 210, 229, 284, 292, 300 Leninabad, 95, 127, 151, 153–156, 158, 162, 172–173, 178, 188–189, 203, 207, 211, 221, 240–241 Liberated Youth Organization (LYO), 134–135, 225 Ligachev, Yegor, 135 Lilienthal, 79 Lomonosov, 173 Lutfulloev, Nusratullo Makhsum, 104 Ma’rifat (clique), 228 Mafia, 33–35, 146–148, 154, 218, 239, 248, 259, 287, 297 Mahkamov, Qahhor, 137–148, 150–152, 155, 158, 210, 227, 287 Mahmadov (general), 160, 248n22 Mahmud Khoja, 76 Makhsum, Nusratullo, 104 Manghit, Muhammad Rahim, 53 Manghits, 37, 53–54, 56, 60–62, 66–68, 70, 73–75, 79–80, 86, 215 Mankurt, 225, 230, 302 Mansurov, Jamoliddin, 211 Markazi, 100, 130 Martovitskii (Major-General), 160 Marx, Karl, 96, 110 Maschoh, 106 Mashhad, 277, 279, 281 Maskva, 129 Mas’ud, Ahmadshah, 276

Maududi, Sayyid Abul Ala, 125, 295 Media, 167, 171, 189, 191, 194, 218, 236–237, 258–262, 271, 277, 286, 289, 294, 296 Merrem, Gerd, 267, 280–281 MIA (Ministry of Interior Affairs), 154– 156, 160, 165–166, 168–169, 188 Military wing, 202, 214 Minneapolis, 2, 4, 6, 8, 14, 37, 44, 48 Mir Arab Madrasa, 117, 123 Miri Zard, 73 Mirrahim, Mirbobo, 144, 152, 161 Mirzoalieva, Muharrama, 164 Mirzo Abulazim Somi, 67 Mirzo Dovud Huseynov, 105 Mirzo Siroj Hakim, 77 Mirzoev, Akbar, 154, 158, 167, 169 Mirzoev, Ghaffor, 121 Moscow, 14, 34–35, 48, 89, 90, 94, 110, 113, 118, 120–121, 135, 137–138, 143, 155, 218, 220–221, 225, 234, 236, 238, 252, 261, 262–264, 267–268, 270–271, 275–279, 281, 294, 296 Mu’minobod, 74, 129 Muborakqadamov, Ruslan, 179 Mufti, 8, 55, 93, 123, 227, 245, 259, 274, 289, 302 Muhammad Amin, 115 Muhammad ibn Abdul Wahhab, 109 Muhammadinov, A., 85 Muhiddinov, Nuriddin Akramovich, 119 Mukhtorov, Ahror, 60n27, 70n61, 86n97, 114 Mullo Mirza, 74 Mullo Qamariddin, 78 Mullosafar, 74–75 Muslim Tajiks, 1, 14, 88, 90, 93–94, 105, 112–113, 132, 134, 224 Muzaffar (amir), 32, 37, 40, 51, 58–60, 64–65, 67–70, 79

Index Nabiev, Rahmon, 121, 137–139, 145, 149–150, 153–163, 165–169, 171– 182, 185, 207, 209–210, 213–215, 217, 222, 227, 233–234, 240, 242, 253, 259, 291–293, 298 Nagorno-Karabakh, 140 Naqshbandiyyah, 118 Narshakhi, 97 Nasaf, 80 Nasriddinov, Hikmatullo, 138n124, 140n4, 147, 148n28–29, 155n45, 158, 179, 211–212, 213n92, 222, 223n23, 242n15 Nasrullah (amir), 37, 51, 59, 60–64, 68, 79 Nasrullo, Habibullo, 211 National Reconciliation, Government of (GNR), 139, 170–171, 181–215, 297 National Reconciliation, Committee on, 272 National Reconciliation, Council of, 273 Nationalism, 22, 91, 93, 136, 218, 223, 225–226, 228, 232, 234, 238 Navjuvonov, Mamadayoz, 141, 154, 155, 156–158, 163, 166–167, 175, 182, 198 Navruz (palace), 284 Nazarbayev, Nursultan, 286, 264, 271 Nazarov, Talbak, 262, 274, 277 Nazir, 74 New-method schools, 68, 71, 75–76, 78–79, 81 Nicholas II (Emperor), 70, 84 Niozov (general), 160, 171–172 Nomenklatura, 25n17, 214, 219–220, 223, 303 Norak, 45, 74, 100–101, 114, 127, 194, 206, 211, 293 NSC (National Security Committee), 171, 188, 204, 254

Nuri, Said Abdullo, 115–118, 134–135, 138, 160–161, 227, 260, 262–264, 266, 270–273, 275–278, 280–281, 295 Odilov, Hadyatullo, 142 Odina, Jum’a, 121 Odina, Muhammad, 74 Odinaev, Rajabali, 288 Olim Khan (amir), 31, 37, 51, 53, 56, 66n48, 71, 77, 79–86, 89–91, 301 Olimpur, Muhiddin, 216, 274 Olimzoda, Karomatullo, 217–218, 235n2 Oljaboev, Tursun, 120 One Belt One Road (project), 282 Oshkoro (organization), 172 Osimi, Muhammad (academician), 3n4, 216, 260 Otajonov, Qorbonboi (Kolkhozobod), 137 Ozodi (square), 162–164, 171–173, 187, 191, 195, 247 Pallaev, Ghoibnazar, 141–142, 149 Pamir, 69, 121, 126, 138, 147, 154–156, 233, 285 Panj (river), 100, 102, 127, 129, 243 Panjshir valley, 276, Pasha, Enver, 91, 215 Pastukhov, Boris, 267 Peace accord, 235–236, 261–284 Perestroika, 27n23, 115, 136, 143, 150, 210, 217–218, 225, 228, 236, 287, 293–295, 303 PFT (People’s Front of Tajikistan), 182–196, 198–208, 210, 212 Piriz-Ballon, Ramiro, 266–269, 273 Plenum, 142 Politburo, 119, 141 Political wing, 202–203, 214, 234, 240, 246

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The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan Ponghoz (palace), 50, 175 Posiyolka, 101, 128, 130, 303 Potovskii, Grigorii, 101 Potovsky bridge, 195, 201 Poyandashoev, 200 Presidium, 158–159, 164 Primakov, Yevgeny, 266 Protopopov, Dmitrii, 105 Putsch, 150, 155 Qabodion, 183, 190, 243 Qaderiyya, 118 Qadiri, A., 85 Qahhorov (general), 160, 167 Qahhorov, S. (opposition member), 161 Qalandarov, Mahmadsharif (Qozimolik), 137 Qaradum, 130 Qaratoq, 100 Qaravuti, 130 Qarotegin, 88, 121, 128, 137, 147, 151, 154, 165, 194, 204, 270, 276 Qarshi, 30, 39–40, 66–67 Qashqa Dariyo (river), 89 Qatar, 282 Qiyomuddin, Hoji Said, 158, 160, 171 Qizilsu (river), 100 Qoqand, 52, 65, 84, 91–92, 115 Qozi, 55, 78, 152, 303 Qozikalon, 55–58, 77–78, 118, 141, 196, 303 Qoziyyot, 152, 159, 170, 175, 227, 292, 303 Qunqurat, 67 Qurbonov, Abdukarim, 204 Qurbonov, N., 174 Qurghonteppa, 18, 33, 45, 72n63, 102, 107, 116, 119, 121–122, 125, 128, 130–132, 134–135, 137, 147, 149, 160, 173–175, 177–178, 184–186, 192–193, 196, 204, 206–207, 211,

214, 217, 223, 228, 231, 237, 244, 246, 247, 259, 289–291, 295 Qushbegi, 54–56, 75, 77, 78, 303 Qutaiba ibn Muslim, 97, 138 Qutb, Sayyid, 125, 295 Rabbani, Burhanuddin, 264, 270, 276 Radical Muslims, 90, 93, 107–109, 116, 121–122, 124–125, 136–137, 140, 148–150, 153, 155, 157, 162, 186– 187, 202, 215, 225–226, 282, 305 Rahim(ov), Saif, 3, 18, 36, 216 Rahimov, Hussein, 37, 40–43 Rahimov, Qosim, 137 Rahimova, Zibo, 36 Rahimova, Zulfiya, 36–39, 41–42, 45, 49 Rahmanberdi, 61 Rahmon, Emomali, 44, 47, 49–50, 74, 235n1, 266, 281–283, 287–289 Rahmon, Zarina, 287 Rahmonov, Emomali Sharipovich, 25n18, 43–45, 198n50, 207, 218n8, 235, 241–283, 286, 293, 298 Rahmonov (general), 160, 165 Rajabov, A. (executive manager MIA), 160, 166–167 Rajabov, Askarali, 22 Rajabov, Safarali, 259 Ramadan Id (celebration), 157 Rastokhiz (party), 144, 154–156, 169, 228–229, 231, 236 Rasulov, Jabbor, 90, 117, 120–121, 125, 132, 137, 227 Reconstruction, 251, 255–256, 258, 262, 283 Refugee, 140, 175, 201, 205–206, 216, 239, 242–245, 251, 253–254, 261, 267–268, 271–272, 276–279, 281, 308 Regionalism, 148, 173, 190, 201, 218, 222, 280, 289, 293–294

Index Rizoev, Jonkhon, 181–182, 187–192, 194–196, 198–199, 201, 203, 208, 212, 215 Roghun (Rogun), 270, 285 Romit (gorge), 18, 174, 246 Ru ba Ru (clique), 228 Rudaki, Abu Abdullah, 101, 284, 304 Rudzutak, Janis, 106 Russian Federation, 140, 150, 168, 189, 204, 242, 245–246, 252, 254, 262, 264, 267 Russian Rifle Division, 140, 168, 176, 189, 192, 194–195, 198–199, 203, 205, 208, 215, 253–254, 265 Rustamov, Qimat, 207 Sadoi Mardum (newspaper), 31, 165, 241n10, 244n18 Sadriddinov, Qalandar, 137 SADUM (Spiritual Administration of the Muslims of Central Asia and Kazakhstan), 123–124 Safarov, A., 109, 110n59, 113n68, 113n70, 117n79–80, 120n83, 125n92, 133, 135n113 Safarov, Sangak, 43, 164, 172–173, 177–178, 181, 186–192, 194–195, 199–201, 203, 207, 211–212, 246, 254, 291 Safieva, Gulrukhsor, 142 Sagadiev, Erlan, 5–6, 10 Saidmurodov, Kh., 127n94, 128n96, 129n98, 161, 169 Saidov, Abdullo (Vakhsh), 137 Saidov, Faizali, 93, 181, 184, 189, 191, 194–195, 199–201, 208, 246, 291 Saidov, Yusuf, 195 Saifulloev, A., 171–172, 239–240 Salimov, Yaqub, 259 Salimov, Yakov, 278 Salimov, Ya’qubjon, 199

Salomov, Mahmadrasul ( Jilikul), 137 Samanid, 86, 150, 280 Samarqand, 4–5, 13, 32, 52–54, 65–66, 69, 74, 86, 89, 107, 224 Sangov, Saifiddin, 208 Sarband, 100, 119, 130 Sattorov, Abdunabi, 160 Saudi Arabia, 109–110, 124, 134, 149, 155, 204, 215, 226, 295 Savdo, Abduqodir, 76 Secularism, 24, 68, 118, 151, 210–211, 215, 228, 231, 234, 239, 245, 250, 263, 266, 282–284, 286, 288–290, 293, 296, 298 Security, 14, 19–21, 29, 32, 41, 55, 57, 71, 81, 99, 122, 147, 158, 161, 165, 170, 171, 176, 188, 204–205, 209, 221, 234, 238, 243, 245, 253–254, 267, 274, 279, 282 Selbur, 129 Serai, 67 Shabdolov, Shodi, 229 Shadunts, Suren, 105–106 Shafi’i (faith), 27 Shahidon (square), 156, 159, 161–163, 166–167, 169, 172, 247, 304 Shahrisabz, 30, 74–75 Shaiban Khan, 52 Shamsiddin Shohin, 76 Shari’a, 22, 55, 60, 79, 93, 113–114, 116, 118–119, 125, 136, 175, 183, 197, 225, 227, 235, 304 Sharifzoda, Fathullo (Mufti), 245, 259, 273–274 Sharifzoda, Haidar, 142, 164, 172 Sharshar, 100, 119, 130, 191, 198, 204, 208 Shawroi Eslamia, 84 Sherabad, 67, 130 Sheralizoda, Murodullo, 165 Shiyen, 8, 10, 11, 13

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The History of the Civil War in Tajikistan Shokurov, Muhammadjon, 164 Shomansur (market), 36, 284 Shotimur, Shirinsho, 104 Shukurov, Taghoikhon, 183 Siddiqi, Ahmad Khoja (Ajzi), 77 Sina, Abu Ali Ibn, 57, 87, 95, 101, 224, 301 Sitodi Najoti Vatan (front), 174 Sitorai Mohi Khosa (palace), 54 Sobir, Bozor, 142, 152 Socialism, 30, 51, 94, 97, 114, 116–117, 119, 122, 124, 126, 148, 238, 240, 289, 296 Socialists, 22, 42, 51, 55, 88, 93, 96–97, 99, 102, 106, 110, 117–118, 121, 131, 137, 235–236, 238–239, 290, 294 Sohibnazar, Asliddin, 1n1, 86–87, 97n24, 104, 122n90, 142, 145, 155n46, 161–163, 167n102, 168, 179, 203n70, 209, 222n11, 228n17, 233n25 Somi, Mirzo Abdulazim, 67 Somoni, Ismo’il, 95, 284 Sorbon, 19–21, 23, 30–32, 37, 41–42 Soviet Muslims, 93, 95, 109–110, 121–125, 148–149 Soviet Tajiks, 24, 88, 90, 93, 95, 99, 102, 105, 112, 113n69, 117–118, 121, 124–126, 130–132, 157, 180, 183, 236, 289–290 Sovietization, 13, 25, 27, 55, 88–138 Sovkhozes, 24, 28, 88, 96, 103, 105, 116, 129–130, 145, 153, 186, 221, 229, 236–238, 280, 294, 304 Sovnarkom, 85n96 Stalin, Joseph, 94, 112, 116, 118 Stalinabad, 89, 93, 101, 105, 114 Stolypin, Petr, 80 Sughd, 120, 287 Surkhob, 129

Supreme Soviet, 43, 49, 138, 142–143, 147, 150–153, 155–169, 171–172, 174–179, 181, 184–185, 187–189, 191, 196–197, 199–202, 204–206, 208–210, 212–213, 228–229, 234– 235, 237–242, 244, 246, 249–251, 254, 256, 259, 265, 269, 280, 292, 294, 298 Surkhon Dariyo, 89 Systematic reforms, 240, 266, 282–283, 285–290 Tabarov, Nur, 241 Tarbiai Atfol, 76 Tashrabat, 130 Tashkent, 15–16, 18, 36–41, 65–66, 84, 104, 115, 117, 118, 123–124 Tavildara, 27, 107, 116, 124–125, 194, 260, 274, 276 Tehran, 37, 261, 266, 268–269, 271, 275–279, 281 Termez, 40, 102–104, 127 Turaev, Sayfiddin, 154, 161–162, 176, 179, 209 Turajonzoda, Haji Akbar, 43, 115, 117–118, 136, 141–142, 145, 152, 155–156, 160–163, 176, 185, 196–198, 209, 217, 227, 246, 258, 263, 269, 270–271, 273–274, 277–279, 292 Turkistan, 52, 65, 72, 83–84, 85n96, 89 Turkmenistan, 15, 85–86, 92, 104, 116, 245, 252, 260, 264 Tursunov, Akbar, 28 Tursunov, H., 89n2 Tursunov, Rizo, 161 Tursunzoda, A., 170 Tursunzoda, Mirzo, 121 Tursunzoda (town), 162, 181, 813, 185–187, 189–191, 194, 199, 213, 244, 259, 276

Index Ubaidulloev, Mahmadsaid, 198, 207, 262, 270–271, 274, 278, 283 Ulughzoda, Sotim, 37, 121 Uroteppa, 65–66 Usmon(ov), Ibrohim, 258n42, 262, 265, 268n57, 269n60, 270n63, 271n65, 274n69, 275n71m 276 Usmonov, U. Gh., 179 UTO (United Tajik Opposition), 228, 235–236, 261, 263, 272–273, 276–277, 279–281, 308 Uzbekistan, 5, 15, 37, 86, 88–89, 91–92, 94, 103–104, 106, 124, 127, 137, 224, 242, 244–245, 252, 254, 267, 271, 275 Vaezi, Mahmoud (Iranian deputy foreign minister), 267, 269 Vahdat (palace), 284 Vakhsh, 100, 103, 107, 113, 119–121, 124, 126–128, 130–131, 137, 173, 205, 212, 253 Vakhshonzamin, 174–176 Valikhanov, Chokan, 8, 305 Varzob (gorge), 2–3, 18, 35, 100, 103, 104, 119, 162, 183 Von Kaufman, Konstantin, 64–65 Vorobiev, Eduard (LieutenantGeneral), 200 Vose’ (of Khovaling), 60, 71, 72n66, 74–75

Vose’, Qurbon, 227n16, 241, 243n17, 248n21 Wahhabism, 27, 93, 94n17, 107–109, 118, 124–125, 136, 140, 144, 148–151, 155, 157, 202–204, 215, 223, 226–227, 240, 263, 292, 295–297 Wufchik, 27, 177, 186, 305 Yakhsu, 129 Yakovlev, Alexander, 135 Yange-Qurghon, 65 Yaqnob(i), 65 Yeltsin, Boris, 168, 203, 264, 278 Yoddoshtho, 21–23, 26n19–20, 27, 30, 120 Young Bukharans, 51, 82n92, 83, 85, 90–93. See also Javonbukhorion Yovon, 102, 126–127, 130–131, 162, 165, 191 Yusuf(ov), Shodmon, 152, 156, 160–161, 169, 174, 231 Zarafshon, 53, 189, 201 Zardakov, 211 Zio, Sadri, 77 Ziois, 155, 219, 234, 237, 294, 296, 306 Zirabuloq, 65 Zuhurov, Shukurjon, 259, 268 Zuhurov, Sievush, 287

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