Jonathan Morrison
Tashkent: The Modernist utopia that holds its own against the best the Silk Road can offer
Most visitors will be on their way to Samarkand or Bukhara, but a day or two in the Uzbek capital will prove more than rewarding
It’s fair to say that most people who visit Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan, will probably be passing through. It’s the easiest airport to reach in the landlocked central Asian country, sandwiched between Afghanistan and Turkmenistan to the south and the vast wildernesses of Kazakhstan to the north, and has direct flights from Istanbul and elsewhere. Sadly Tashkent is on few people’s itineraries, except as a stopover – most will have set their sights on the ancient Silk Road citadels of Khiva, far to the west, Bukhara, to the south, and the most famous of all: Samarkand, the former capital of the Timurid empire, the focus of James Elroy Flecker’s “golden journey”, and the crossroads of the Middle East and Orient.
Samarkand, in particular, is unlikely to disappoint: one of the oldest cities in the world, dating back at least 10,000 years, it was variously conquered and enriched by Alexander the Great, the Samanids of Iran, the Arabs and Turks, and destroyed by Genghis Khan. Timur — or Tamburlaine as Christopher Marlow called him — the self-appointed heir to the Mongol hordes, set his court here and ruled an empire stretching from India to Iraq, from Muscovy to the Mediterranean, and left behind one of the most ornate buildings in the world: his tomb, Gur-i-Emir, with its fluted azure dome and extraordinary muqarnas – or honeycomb vaulting - within. And there is much more besides: the Registan Square of three facing madrasahs is probably the finest example of Islamic architecture outside Iran, while the necropolis of Shah-i-Zinda and the Friday mosque of Bibi-Khanym astonish with their sumptuous mosaic and porcelain decorations.
The necropolis of Shah-i-Zinda in Samarkand (GETTY)
But Tashkent is worth a longer look. It is a surprisingly green city, with long, tree-lined avenues, and a wealth of mid-century Modernist architecture that may amount to one of the finest collections of in the world.
But first some more history: formerly an independent city state, Tashkent was conquered by the Russians in 1865 and swiftly absorbed into the Romanov and then Soviet empires. In Soviet times, in particular, it soared in importance as workers and industry were moved east out of reach of the Nazi onslaught, eventually becoming the fourth-largest metropolis of the Soviet Union after Moscow, Leningrad and Kyiv. After the death of Stalin, who preferred classicism and ornamentation when it came to edifices, and a big earthquake in 1966 that destroyed much of the old city, the scene was set for a remarkable architectural experiment: one that would make it a showcase and exemplar for “communism in Asia” and draw admiring acolytes from as far apart as Ghana and Finland.
The cinema also boasts a vast auditorium intended for meetings of the Communist Party (JONATHAN MORRISON)
Tashkent was redesigned from the ground up – and actually from a little below, as perhaps the world’s most beautiful metro, with its palatial marble-clad stops based on those of Moscow, but actually better, also came into being. The greenery was partly inspired by the architects’ experience of visiting London and partly by the English garden cities movement that produced Letchworth and influenced Canberra and Tel Aviv, with parks and shade trees and numerous fountains carefully laid out and incorporated. There would be modern apartment blocks for the workers, replacing the crowded old mahallas, and new forms of entertainment – not least the massive cinema complex that resembles a slice from an ancient column, the UFO-like State Circus, and the Islamic-patterned Museum of Lenin. Old markets would be collected under new domes, new scientific research centres opened – most dramatically at the Solar Furnace, 45km north, that is used to test space components at temperatures of 3,000C– and new production facilities constructed. In short, this was an attempt to create utopia through architecture and planning — and a vast vitrine to show the world the benefits of communism.
The vast Hotel Uzbekistan, which received its first guests in 1974, and where every room was wired for sound (JONATHAN MORRISON)
Fast forward to today, and many of the incredible buildings created during this period are receiving fresh and welcome attention. Once at risk of decay and destruction as Uzbekistan found independence and Tashkent went through another rapid urban overhaul, there is a new understanding that they collectively form a valuable legacy that makes the city almost unique. While Modernism is enjoying something of a moment, and starting to be appreciated as a worthy aesthetic in its own right after many years in the wilderness of taste, Tashkent’s post-1966 rebuilding is also emblematic of a time when the Soviet Union accounted for a sixth of the world’s landmass and, for fifty years, was one of the two greatest powers on the planet. As such it is more than just a thin slice of history: it represents an insight into a different viewpoint and philosophy altogether. Bizarrely, we have almost come to think that interesting design just exists in the West, and that preservation should just be a Western phenomenon: a visit to Tashkent may thus prove thought-provoking!
The central market is a bizarre combination of the medieval and the Space Age, but there’s nowhere better for pickled cucumbers (JONATHAN MORRISON)
For those reasons and pecuniary others, the city authorities are mulling an attempt to get Unesco to list their Modernist masterpieces, if only to remind people of a time when America and capitalism weren’t the only games in town – and it’s a period and society that have so far been scandalously neglected by the guardians of heritage. After all, the prestigious accolade of a place on the Unesco World Heritage List isn’t just awarded to what’s beautiful, it’s also supposedly conferred upon places that have a deep cultural and historic significance. The fourth city of the Soviets should be a shoo-in.
While getting Unesco World Heritage status is unlikely to happen, at least in the near future, the Modernist wonders of Tashkent are certainly worthy of a visit. And then, suitably stimulated, you can make your way to Samarkand – now only two to three hours away by high-speed train – on a golden journey that remains as timeless as it is fulfilling.
∗ ∗ ∗