The Minutiae
It is in the minutiae that we find the flow of history.
It is in the minutiae that we find the flow of history.
Kazakhstan has fascinated me for years. It’s geopolitically significant—sandwiched between Russia and China—along with a wealth of natural resources. From the Silk Road to the Soviet Union, it has a rich and layered history and Kazakh nomadic traditions and diverse landscapes promise adventure.
From my first day in Kazakhstan, my assumptions were challenged and my perspective was altered. Among my experiences and insights, five lessons stand out. Each of these not only taught me about Kazakhstan, but added to my understanding of today’s world.
I arrived at the Almaty airport, around midday. With my backpack on, a bit of Kazakh tenge in my pocket, and the address of my hostel written on my hand, I left the airport. Within the first few minutes of being outside, Kazakhstan felt oddly familiar.
I walked to the main road from the airport parking lot and found a bus stop. I jumped on the first bus to stop and asked the driver in English, “City Center?” He squinted at me. I asked again, this time in Russian. He nodded, took my money, then gestured for me to sit down. Forty-five minutes later, the driver told me to get off.
I stepped out into the city center and headed in a random direction. As I walked, the feeling of familiarity grew. The buildings, avenues, and statues had a nostalgic quality. The Cyrillic street signs and restaurants serving varenyky triggered memories. It took several minutes for me to realize why Almaty felt familiar. Almaty’s city center reminded me so much of Kyiv, Ukraine, that it felt more like returning than arriving in a new country.
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The Soviet architecture, the widespread use of Russian, and Eastern European cuisine shouldn’t have surprised me. Kazakhstan was a part of the Soviet Union. Before that, the Kazakh steppes were settled by the Russian Empire and large areas had been russified. I knew all of this; however, I had not fully appreciated its impact.
I had taken it for granted that the Soviet aesthetic was the Slavic aesthetic. However, seeing it replicated in Central Asia made the familiar Soviet features feel imposed. A superficial layer sitting on top of an older, distinct culture. This, more than my knowledge of history, demonstrated the colonialist nature of Russia and the Soviet Union.
Though I knew Russia to be an aggressive, expansionist country, I unconsciously put it in a different category than the British Empire, the Spanish, the Dutch, or any other Western Imperialists. The impression that only the West is colonialist distorts the reality of current conflicts, such as Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Moldova and Georgia’s political struggles, and Nagorno-Karabakh. For me, it took going to Central Asia to better understand Russia.
One of the first things I noticed while exploring Almaty was that no one seemed to notice me. No one stared or tried to talk to me. In cafes and restaurants, people greeted me in Russian and treated me the same as everyone else. After spending eight months in Southeast Asia, where I stood out and was treated like a tourist, anonymity felt blissful.
Prior to arriving in Kazakhstan, I assumed most people would be stereotypically Asian. While a slim majority are Asian, they are far from being stereotypical. Kazakhs can be tall or short; they have blond, red, black hair; curly or straight textures; pale, olive, or dark skin—no description is out of place.
Whether I was in a café, on a bus, or traveling by train, I saw people from a range of ethnic backgrounds. This, plus the presence of mosques, churches, and temples, made Almaty feel like a multicultural multiethnic hub, more similar to London than the Borat-esque backwater Kazakhstan is occasionally portrayed as.
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While Kazakhstan is a good example of a functioning multiethnic state today, it has a dark origin story. Under the Russian Empire, thousands of Russians and Ukrainians were moved to the Kazakh steppes. Later under the Soviets over 40% of the Kazakh population was killed or displaced in a famine. Then the Soviet Union transplanted people from all over Soviet territory to Kazakhstan. Today (2024), over 126 nationalities call Kazakhstan home, 117 languages are spoken, and a wide variety of religions are practiced.
Kazakhstan’s diversity also stems from the Kazakh tradition of avoiding marriages within bloodlines. Back when European royals were marrying their siblings, Kazakhs were prohibiting marriage between those with “blood ties,” which included relations from the past seven generations.
Kazakhs believed that having no blood connections between spouses ensures healthier offspring. Men were encouraged to take foreign wives and capturing wives from distant lands was a normal practice. The effect of these traditions can still be seen today in the range of hair, eye, and skin color of Kazakhs.
Thanks to Russian colonization, Soviet famines, forced migration, and the seven generations law, Kazakhstan is more multicultural and diverse than many European countries. While Kazakhstan avoids much of the ethnic conflict that plagues Western countries, it is also struggling to form a national identity. These realities demonstrate that diversity is neither inherently good nor bad, and multicultural societies are not exclusive to liberal democracies.
On my second day in Almaty, I met a woman on the bus. She was wearing a flattering suit, and her hair and makeup looked professionally done. She told me her name was Ailana, and her dream was to become the Ambassador to the UK. I was impressed and asked how she planned to make that happen. Ailana explained that she was getting a degree in International Relations, perfecting her English, and starting an internship.
I nodded and said it sounded like a lot. Ailana sighed and said it was not so bad, but she was also getting married within the next year. Curious, I asked how old she was. She was seventeen.
At first, I thought Ailana was an outlier, but after a few weeks in Almaty, I realized she was closer to the norm. The majority of people I met were ambitious, well-educated, married or close to it, and young.
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While most countries are struggling with an aging population, around 50% of Kazakhstani are under the age of 30. This trend shows no signs of slowing down.
There are an infinite number of factors affecting Kazakhstan’s population boom. Some theorize the mass purges of the Kazakh people under the Soviet Union, inspired the surviving generations to have large families. Similar to the ‘baby boom’ after World War II.
Others look at government policies. The Kazakhstani government has done a lot to alleviate the burden of having children. Families with four children or more receive substantial cash benefits. The more children, the more money. Mothers with multiple children are awarded the title of “Mother Heroine” which entitles them to housing, property tax breaks, and a pension.
The government has also implemented programs to support the incoming generation. In 2023, the president signed a bill stating that 50% of the National Fund’s annual investment income would be allocated to trusts for Kazakhstani children. When they come of age they can use the available money to purchase a house or education.
Regardless of the reasons for the population boom, Kazakhstan’s up-and-coming generation is impressive and geopolitically important. While neighboring Russia and China’s populations wither, Kazakhstan’s is multiplying and they are ambitious and well-educated. Having met a few of its future leaders, I am sure Kazakhstan is going to be a major player in global affairs.
I arrived in Astana around sunset. After two days on trains, the sight of any city would have been exciting, but Astana was something else entirely.
Twenty minutes outside the city, all I could see was flat arid space. Then it appeared. Vast and sparkling on the horizon. It looked like a city on Mars. Within minutes, apartment towers filled my view, along with manicured parks, and buildings that resembled abstract art projects. Everything was modern, high-tech, and clean to the point of surrealism.
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Before 1994, Astana was a trade city called Akmola. After Kazakhstan gained independence, then-President Nazarbayev moved the capital from Almaty to Akmola and renamed it Astana. He invited Kisho Kurokawa, a Japanese architect along with several other international designers and artists, to renovate the city. By the time Nazarbayev was done, Akmola was forgotten and Astana became a symbol of Kazakhstan’s independence and sovereignty.
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The more I explored, the more I thought of Astana as a paradox. It is too new to have depth or texture and all of the pristine surfaces feel soulless. However, in many ways, it is more Kazakh than Almaty. It has no Soviet bloc apartments, Soviet statues, or Soviet architecture. Instead, it has Kazakh art, memorials, modern architecture, and beautiful mosques.
Far from the relatively temperate climate of Almaty, Astana has long freezing winters and intense winds. It is the second coldest capital in the world. Living there is not for the faint of heart—but it suits those descended from hardened nomads. At the same time, there are a multitude of high-end shopping centers, the apartments are luxurious, and the buildings are temperature-controlled.
Between its intense weather, its political importance, and its novel design, Astana stands apart for me. I did not fall in love with it nor am I craving to go back, however I did love my time there. It was interesting to see the inherent conflicts in representing a traditional culture while being advanced and modern. I am sure these contradictions also say something about the struggle to form a cultural identity after decades of colonialism.
In 2022, the Kazakhstani people held mass protests over the price of gas. President Tokayev tried to suppress protesters with force; 238 people were killed. The protests ended only when Russia deployed its military to support Tokayev.
My friend told me about the protests while we walked past the Presidential Palace in Astana. His account of ‘Bloody January’ tainted the beautiful area with a sinister undertone and left me feeling odd. I had never lived within walking distance of a presidential palace before. Let alone a president who had given orders to “shoot-to-kill” his own people.
This feeling was compounded a few days later. I was walking in the Presidential Park when I was detained by several police officers. They were pleasant enough, but they made me stand on the side of the road and asked me a series of questions. “Who are you? Where are you from? What are you doing? Are you married? Do you have kids?…”
After a few minutes, a series of black cars drove past. One of the policemen told me I could leave if I went in the direction he indicated. I asked him what it was all about. He replied, ‘It was the President.’
Later in the comfort of my apartment, I looked up what was happening that day. While I was enjoying the park, President Tokayev was meeting with Putin (President of Russia) and Erdogan (President of Turkey). The juxtaposition of those three leaders meeting in that beautiful place, on such a lovely day, made me cringe.
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With all the brilliant culture, the bizarre but impressive buildings, and stunning landscapes. It is easy for visitors to forget that Kazakhstan is ruled by a dictator and plays host to other authoritarians. From President Nazarbayev to Tokayev and their welcomed guests—Putin, Lukashenko, Iran’s Presidents, Xi, and so on—the political class that frequents Astana tends toward murder and repression.
This political reality clashes with everyday experiences. Astana is a wealthy modern city that represents Kazakhstan’s independence and is the heart of the Kazakh ‘de-russification’ movement. It also provides Putin, who is wanted for war crimes by the ICC, with a safe place to meet world leaders and negotiate deals to perpetuate his imperialist war.
The diverse, well-educated people of Kazakhstan, who enjoy several social benefits, also go without a free press or fair elections. While they have stunning parks and great transportation, they live under the rule of a President who had hundreds of protesters killed and thousands detained.
My time in Kazakhstan impressed upon me that both of these realities are true at the same time. Kazakhstan is a land of dictators with beautiful cities, social benefits, lovely people, and a rich history. To focus on the amazing architecture is to ignore the bloody reality. To only see oppression is to misunderstand the situation.
I hope with these five lessons —about colonization, diversity, demographics, Astana, and dictatorship— I have conveyed how interesting and relevant the country of Kazakhstan is.
If there’s only one takeaway, it should be this: Kazakhstan’s beauty, ambition, and cultural renaissance offer much to admire, but they coexist with authoritarianism and repression. Recognizing this duality is crucial—not just for understanding Kazakhstan, but for assessing any nation’s achievements in light of its governance.