Uzbekistan’s Heritage Did Not Stop With the Silk Road
When people think of Uzbekistan’s architectural heritage, the images are familiar: the turquoise domes of Samarkand, the madrasas of Bukhara, Khiva’s walled city, and the monuments of Shakhrisabz. But Uzbekistan’s history did not stop with the Silk Road. At its 48th session in July, UNESCO inscribed “Tashkent Modernist Architecture. Modernity and Tradition in Central Asia” on the World Heritage List. The new site brings together ten buildings and urban complexes constructed between the 1960s and the early 1990s, during the period in which Tashkent was dramatically rebuilt following the 1966 earthquake. The inscription deserves to be celebrated. More importantly, it expands the definition of what Uzbek heritage can be. [caption id="attachment_52926" align="aligncenter" width="1774"] Kosmonavtlar Metro Station, Tashkent; photo: Mathieu Lemoine[/caption] These buildings do not belong to the world of caravanserais and Timurid courts. They represent another layer of the country’s history: the ambitious and highly creative transformation of Soviet-era Tashkent. For decades, Central Asian heritage has often been viewed through a chronological hierarchy. The older a monument, the easier it is to recognize as heritage. Timurid architecture is obviously precious. A concrete building from the 1970s can appear more expendable. Tashkent shows why that distinction is too simple. UNESCO notes that the architecture developed after the earthquake combined industrialized construction and seismic engineering with local climatic, cultural and material conditions. The result was not simply Soviet modernism transplanted to Central Asia, but a distinct architectural language adapted to Tashkent. This broader understanding of heritage comes at an important moment. Uzbekistan is modernizing rapidly. Its cities are growing, tourism is expanding, infrastructure is improving and redevelopment is transforming urban space. Much of this change is necessary and welcome. Historic neighborhoods cannot be expected to function as open-air museums. Residents need reliable drinking water, sewage systems, heating, electricity, internet access, waste collection, accessibility, safe streets and comfortable housing. A leaking pipe is not “authenticity.” The more difficult question is how modernization takes place. [caption id="attachment_52925" align="aligncenter" width="1774"] Tashkent Modernist State Museum of History; photo: Mathieu Lemoine[/caption] Uzbekistan has already experienced how delicate that balance can be. In Shakhrisabz, large-scale redevelopment substantially altered the historic urban fabric. The historic center was placed on UNESCO’s List of World Heritage in Danger in 2016 and remains there today. The experience offers an important lesson: preserving monuments is not necessarily the same as preserving a city. A city can retain its most famous madrasa, mosque or mausoleum while losing part of its heritage if the streets, neighborhoods, businesses and communities surrounding them disappear. The pressure is not only architectural. As tourism grows and historic centers become more desirable, economic incentives change. Houses can become hotels and restaurants. Businesses serving residents can give way to businesses serving visitors. Traditional workshops can struggle with higher costs. Redevelopment can create pressure on residents to relocate. Bukhara illustrates why this is important. Its identity rests not only on monumental architecture but on a living economy of craftsmanship. Gold embroidery, ceramics, jewelry, woodwork and other trades remain sources of employment as well as cultural identity....
