Authorities in Uzbekistan have instructed television executives to keep the local version of Santa Claus off the airwaves this holiday season, the Associated Press reports.
Throughout the former Soviet Union, the robed Father Frost – Ded Moroz as he’s known in Russian – is the beloved figure who appears with gifts on New Year’s Eve, a entirely secular holiday.
Independent news website UzMetronom reported Monday that President Islam Karimov's authoritarian government imposed the informal ban on Father Frost and his snow maiden sidekick. […]
The ban is similar to the semiofficial 2005 ban on celebrating New Year's Eve.
It all looks like part of Karimov’s ongoing effort to shield his 30 million people from any foreign influences, and invent an entirely Uzbek "culture." As part of the campaign, high school students are subjected to lectures on "Uzbek national values," which demand they to submit to authorities.
In March, legislators, acting out of concern for children's “moral health,” mulled a vague ban on foreign toys that did not conform to these "national values." And earlier this year Karimov's government called off Valentine’s Day:
Uzbekistan has cancelled concerts marking the holiday and instructed young people instead to celebrate the birthday of a local hero—Moghul emperor Babur, who was born in Andijan in 1483 and conquered much of South Asia. The Associated Press recently cited an Uzbek newspaper article calling Valentine's Day the work of “forces with evil goals bent on putting an end to national values.”
In the Soviet Union, March 8 meant gifts for women and some heavy drinking. In post-Soviet Turkmenistan, March 8 means gifts for women and more glory to the president (and maybe a bit of drinking, too).
President Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov has decreed that, for the fourth year, all women in Turkmenistan shall receive 40 manats (about $14) in cash to mark International Women’s Day on March 8. Celebrations are to be “well organized,” the president has said.
International Women’s Day, a popular public holiday in the Soviet Union that dates back to equal rights movements in the early 20th century, continues to be important throughout the post-Soviet successor countries. It is something of a cross between Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day.
But this year in Turkmenistan, one man is being celebrated on March 8 as well, according to the Chronicles of Turkmenistan, a news site run by the exiled Turkmen Initiative for Human Rights.
A sculpture of Berdymukhamedov on a horse is the centerpiece of an exhibition of flowers in Ashgabat entitled, “Flowers as Sublime as a Woman’s Soul,” offering yet another example of the persistent insertion of the president into every aspect of public life. On March 7, a gala concert was scheduled at Ashgabat’s Palace of Happiness, entitled, “Glory to the Protector, the hero who gave the people happiness,” referring to the president by his moniker.
Authorities around Central Asia seem to have it in for Valentine’s Day.
Uzbekistan has cancelled concerts marking the holiday and instructed young people instead to celebrate the birthday of a local hero—Moghul emperor Babur, who was born in Andijan in 1483 and conquered much of South Asia. The Associated Press recently cited an Uzbek newspaper article calling Valentine's Day the work of “forces with evil goals bent on putting an end to national values.”
Students in western Kazakhstan say their university wouldn’t let them celebrate the holiday, which has become popular in the generation since independence. And in Kyrgyzstan, a parliamentary deputy says Valentine’s promotes an “alien ideology,” which drives people to suicide (when they don’t get enough cards).
In Turkmenistan, officials are apparently too busy still celebrating President Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov’s dazzling 97 percent victory in Sunday’s election to discuss much else. Never mind, it’s clear whom everyone loves there.
So what’s with the assault on Valentine’s Day? Yes, it’s nominally a Christian holiday in a predominantly Muslim region, but the elites who call the shots are secular. Could it be that menace of the heart, jealousy, gripping Central Asia’s leaders?
