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THE STEPPE AND BEYOND:
STUDIES ON CENTRAL ASIA
Uyat and the

Culture of Shame
in Central Asia
Edited by
Hélène Thibault · Jean-François Caron
The Steppe and Beyond: Studies on Central Asia
Series Editor
Jean-François Caron, Department of Political Science and International
Relations, Nazarbayev University, Astana, Kazakhstan
Surrounded between Europe and Asia, Central Asia has been neglected
by many experts for a very long time. Many reasons may explain this situ-
ation, such as the language barrier and the fact that the region remained
inaccessible for the most part of the 20th Century. However, this situation
is clearly about to change in light of the growing interest of the academic
interest for this region and the purpose of this series is to enhance the
understanding of this region which is has always been at the crossroad
of various civilizations. From a multidisciplinary perspective, this series
examines the history of the region, its past struggles with colonialism and
communism as well as the political and sociological challenges Central
Asian countries are currently facing with the emergence of the new Silk
Road and the strategic power shift in the region. It also proposes to
render accessible to English-speaking readers the important oral literary
tradition of Central Asia, which is one of the largest in the world.
Hélène Thibault · Jean-François Caron
Editors
Uyat and the Culture

of Shame in Central
Asia
Editors
Hélène Thibault Jean-François Caron
Department of Political Science Department of Political Science
and International Relations and International Relations
Nazarbayev University Nazarbayev University
Nur-Sultan, Kazakhstan Nur-Sultan, Kazakhstan
ISSN 2524-8359 ISSN 2524-8367 (electronic)

The Steppe and Beyond: Studies on Central Asia
ISBN 978-981-19-4327-0 ISBN 978-981-19-4328-7 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-4328-7
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2022
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
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189721, Singapore
Contents
1 An Overview of Shame and Its Manifestation in Central

Asia 1
Hélène Thibault and Jean-François Caron
2 Conceptualizing Shame 15
Jean-François Caron
3 Purity vs. Safety: How Uyat Undermines Youth’s
Sexual Literacy in Kazakhstan 23
Karlygash Kabatova
4 “Uyat Emes” or the Process of De-Shaming
in Kazakhstan 43
Moldir Kabylova
5 Ashamed to Mother: The Practice of ‘Nebere Aluu’
in Kyrgyzstan 93
Zhibek Kenzhebaeva and Elena Kim
6 The Role of Uyat or the Culture of Shame
in the Regulation of Queer Subjectivities in Kazakhstan,
and Forms of Resistance Against It 117
Mariya Levitanus
v
vi CONTENTS
7 Shaming as a Form of Political Accountability

in Kazakhstani Politics 151
Hélène Thibault
Index 175
Notes on Contributors
Caron Jean-François is an associate professor at the Department of Polit-

ical Science and International Relations at Nazarbayev University. He
holds a Ph.D. from the Université Laval (2010) and has published more
than a dozen monographs. He is the editor of “The Steppe and Beyond:
Studies on Central Asian” series with Palgrave MacMillan.
Kabatova Karlygash is a researcher and advocate for youth’s access to
sexuality and gender education in Kazakhstan. She has been studying
the topic since 2017 independently and while at The Central Asia-
Azerbaijan Fellowship Program (George Washington University, U.S.)
and The John Smith Programme for Central Asia (John Smith Trust,
UK). In 2018, Karlygash founded and runs UyatEmes.kz—an educational
project intended for young people and parents to learn about healthy rela-
tionships, sexual and reproductive health and rights. Karlygash is also a
member of PaperLab (a public policy research center based in Kazakhstan)
where she is involved in applied research and project coordination. Karly-
gash holds an MA in Politics and Security from the OSCE Academy in
Bishkek and is an alumna of the Soros Foundation/International Centre
for Policy Advocacy’s Public Policy Fellowship Program. Her research
interests include sexuality education, gender issues, and human rights.
Kabylova Moldir is a Ph.D. candidate in Social Policy at the Univer-
sity of Nottingham in the United Kingdom. Her current research project
focuses on mothers’ participation in paid work in Kazakhstan and the
vii
viii NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
impact of social policy mechanisms, family institution and labor market

on it. Prior to doing her Ph.D., Moldir has been working as a public
policy consultant at the first national consulting company in Kazakhstan
the Centre of Strategic Initiatives (CSI) where she has been involved in
the evaluation of population’s trust in governmental bodies. As part of
volunteer work, she leads several educational projects as a media director
at the Kazakhstan Ph.D. Association in the United Kingdom (KPAUK)
which include academic webinars, articles and competitions. She holds a
BA in Social Policy from the University of Kent and an MA in Public
Policy from University of York, UK.
Kenzhebaeva Zhibek is currently a Primary and Middle School coun-
selor at the Bishkek International School (BIS), Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan
and a psychologist at the Institute of Behavioral Health and Applied
Research, which provides free psychological counseling services. Prior
to that, she worked at the Child Support Center for children victims
of violence under Bishkek’s mayor office. She has a Master’s degree
in Applied Psychology with a Child and Adolescent Counselling and
Counselling Psychology Concentrations from the American University of
Central Asia. She enjoys reading books and is the author of several book
reviews and the founder of a book club.
Kim Elena is a professor of Social Sciences at the American University
of Central Asia, Bishkek Kyrgyzstan. She is currently a visiting professor
at Bard College, New York. Elena’s teaching and research focus is on
gender and international development, gender-based violence, and gender
politics in Central Asia. More specifically, her ethnographies concern
practices such as child marriage, bride-kidnapping, and foreign-funded
crisis intervention in Kyrgyzstan. Elena has often served as a consultant
to United Nations Development Program, United Nations Environ-
mental Program, UN Women on matters of investigating intersections
among gender, women, and violence. Her publications include chapters in
several books and articles including the Violence against Women, Journal
of Gender Studies, Gender, Technology and Development, Central Asian
Survey, Rural Society, and Women and Therapy.
Levitanus Mariya is a lecturer in the Faculty of Life Sciences and Educa-
tion at the University of South Wales. She received her Doctorate in
Psychotherapy from the University of Edinburgh in 2020. Her thesis
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS ix
is entitled “Regulation and Negotiation of Queer Subjectivities in post-

Soviet Kazakhstan”. Her study looks at the narratives of queer people
in Kazakhstan, considering what regulates queer lives, and how do
people negotiate their queer subjectivities. Her research interests include
gender and sexuality, everyday lives of queer people in Central Asia, and
qualitative decolonizing methodologies.
Thibault Hélène is an associate professor in the Department of Political
Science and International Relations at Nazarbayev University (NU) since
2016. She holds a Ph.D. from the University of Ottawa (2014). She is
also a co-investigator in the Political Economy of Education Research
(PEER) Network. She specializes in issues of religion, gender, and sexu-
ality in Central Asia. Recent publications include: “Are You Married?:
Gender and Faith in Political Ethnographic Research” in the Journal of
Contemporary Ethnography and “Where did all the Wahhabis go? The
evolution of threat in Central Asian scholarship” in Europe-Asia Studies
and “Male Sex-work in Kazakhstan a distinct market?” in Central Asian
Affairs.
List of Tables
Table 3.1 Messages communicated to youth divided by gender 37

Table 4.1 The respondents’ reactions to the statement
in the survey “The statue of lovers in Nur-Sultan
offends the honour of Kazakh women because it depicts
them in a tight-fitting dress that emphasises the curves
of the body” 60
Table 4.2 The participants’ responses to the question in the survey
“Will you feel uncomfortable in relation to your
community if, instead of a traditional wedding
with relatives, your son or daughter chooses to spend
the money on other purposes (honeymoon abroad,
buying a home, starting a business, etc.)?” 63
Table 4.3 The respondents’ reactions to the statement in the survey
“Today, people should not depend on public opinion.
Everyone has the right to do what he/she wants, even
if others do not like it” 65
Table 4.4 The respondents’ reactions to the statement in the survey
“The feeling of fear of disappointing others and the desire
to avoid public condemnation (uyat) is an important
part of Kazakh culture and should be a guide
in decision-making” 66
xi
xii LIST OF TABLES
Table 4.5 The participants’ responses to the question in the survey

“You were invited to an important event (funeral,
wedding, besiktoy) during an epidemic and quarantine.
Your refusal would be regarded by the hosts of the event
as disrespect for them and other guests. What would you
do?” 68
Table 4.6 The survey results demonstrating responses
to the question “Do you have experience
of studying/working/living abroad?” and coloration
between the respondents’ experiences of living abroad
and sense of shame 71
Table 4.7 The survey results illustrating coloration between size
of the cities in Kazakhstan and the respondents’ sense
of shame 77
CHAPTER 1
An Overview of Shame and Its Manifestation

in Central Asia
Hélène Thibault and Jean-François Caron
Shame, referred to as uyat in Kyrgyz, Kazakh and Uzbek, and as sharm

or ayb in Tajik, remains a powerful regulatory mechanism in Central
Asian societies that constrains individuals’ behaviors and encourage them
to conform to the dominant social norms. Shelekpayev defines uyat as
“a set of repressive practices in relation to individuals or groups and
their reactions to certain events, including the condemnation of obvious
or perceived misconduct, guilt and imposition of guilt, body shaming,
victimization and victim blaming, invention of (false) morality—that
can be manifested through emotional and physical abuse” (Shelekpayev,
2020). In Kazakh, the expression “uyat bolady” (there will be shame)
remains widely used and its invocation is meant to deter someone from
doing something which people will consider shameful. These norms
H. Thibault (B) · J.-F. Caron

Nazarbayev University, Nur-Sultan, Kazakhstan
e-mail: helene.thibault@nu.edu.kz
J.-F. Caron
e-mail: jean-francois.caron@nu.edu.kz
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Singapore Pte Ltd. 2022
H. Thibault and J.-F. Caron (eds.), Uyat and the Culture of Shame in
Central Asia, The Steppe and Beyond: Studies on Central Asia,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-4328-7_1
2 H. THIBAULT AND J.-F. CARON
usually rely on a heteronormative conservative gender order, kinship

solidarity as well as hierarchical family relations in which elders hold signif-
icant power. Uyat is locally depicted as an ancient tradition inherent to
Central Asian communities (Krupko, 2020) but more than an old age
reminiscence, its prevalence in contemporary social and political dynamics
is undeniable, though disputed. In this volume, authors explore various
manifestations of the culture shame in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan.
In contemporary Central Asia, discourses of shame are commonly
used to regulate female behavior by asserting men’s control over female
mobility and sexuality. Popular narratives, and to some extent, official
ones (Nozimova, 2022; Suyarkulova, 2016; Thibault, 2016), denounce
self-expression, perceived promiscuous behavior or disrespect for national
values and instead emphasize modesty, obedience and respect for tradition
(Peshkova, 2021; Zhussipbek & Nagayeva, 2021). Most of the chapters
in this volume will reflect the phenomenon of gender regulation, from the
taboo of sex education in schools (Kabatova), favored heteronormativity
(Levitanus) to the compliance of parents to give their firstborn to adop-
tion to the husband’s parents (Kenzhebaeva and Kim) whereas Kabylova’s
chapter will challenge the assumption that uyat norms are becoming more
prevalent. Yet, uyat is not limited to the imposition of gender norms.
It encompasses a wide range of social interactions such as taking care
of one’s elderly parents, expected family and kinship solidarity as well
as public responsibility for people in position of power. In this volume,
Caron also offers a theoretical discussion to distinguish between shame
and guilt and highlight the societal mechanisms based on which uyat is
made possible. Finally, Thibault’s contribution addresses the many uses of
shame in Kazakhstani politics as a form of political accountability in the
absence of competitive elections.
While focusing exclusively on Central Asia, this volume resonates with
previous research on the issue of shame focusing on different socio-
economic contexts. The seminal works of sociologists Norbert Elias’s The
Civilizing Process (2000 [1939]) and Erving Goffman’s The Presentation
of Self in Everyday Life (2021 [1959]) have shed light on the issue of
shame in contemporary Western societies. Scheff summarized Elias’ argu-
ment in this schematic way: “1- As physical punishment decreased, shame
became increasingly dominant as the main agent of social control. 2- As
shame became more prevalent, it also became almost invisible because
of taboo” (Scheff, 2014, p. 117). Stewart argues that in Euro-American
societies, codes of honor and shame became obsolete by the 1900s with
1 AN OVERVIEW OF SHAME AND ITS MANIFESTATION IN CENTRAL ASIA 3
the advent of state judicial control (Stewart, 2001). In contrast with most
Western countries, in many Mediterranean, Middle Eastern and Asian
societies, shaming is not invisible and on the contrary is to some extent
becoming even more prevalent, echoing Goffman’s proposition about the
risk of shame in all social interactions, from failure to participate in family
gatherings, to dress inappropriately in public or to betray the country
by allowing foreign interests to buy local companies or land. Peristiany’s
influential edited volume published in 1966 revealed the prevalence of
honor and shame as a regulatory mechanism in Mediterranean societies,
from Greece to North Africa (Peristiany, 1966). It emphasizes the impor-
tance of reputation and the tight social ties that unable shaming where
honor is not individual affair but a collective one.
With the development of feminist studies, research on the issue of
honor and shame conducted by anthropologists and sociologists has
been increasingly focusing on the regulation of gender, sexuality iden-
tities and practices. Scholars have also shown how, across the Muslim
world, the social order is heavily gendered and the honor of commu-
nities rests on women’s behavior, preferably characterized by modesty
and obedience (Gilmore, 1987; Gilmore & Feldman, 2010). Societies
that rely on symbolic prestige and appearances also impose norms on
men and “to perform ‘manly’, in other words, to exaggerate the qual-
ities traditionally associated with masculine domination, such as power,
strength and authority” (Stepien, 2014, p. 9). If codes of honor and
shame are grounded in local contexts and temporalities, they also extend
to migrant communities as Akpinar (2003) shows in her study of Turkish
female immigrants in Sweden where the protection of women is main-
tained through control on their sexuality. Whereas the honor and shame
system might be conceptualized as a reminiscence of traditional values
and social order, its specific manifestations change over time and adapt to
(post)modern realities and changing economic settings. Because it relies
on closely knit communities, shaming tends to lose its potency in large,
urban, diverse settings where social ties are not as strong and where one
can live an anonymous life, free from the judgments of the community.
In contemporary Central Asia, honor and shame bears a specific signif-
icance because of nation-building processes that have contributed to the
redefinition of social and ethnic identities since independence in 1991
due to the glorification of carefully selected national traditions. Honor
and shame, a profoundly relational mechanism, is also impacted by the
economic collapse that followed independence. The state disengagement
from social welfare led to an increase in people’s reliance on local commu-

nities and extended family to secure their finances, access property or find
good employment. In this context, personal behavior comes under more
scrutiny and maintaining a good reputation can guarantee one’s social
esteem as well as financial and professional success. In terms of gender,
the transformation of the Central Asian gender order reflects much of
the Soviet state’s codification of gender relations marked by the promo-
tion of women’s rights as well as heteronormativity and an unchanged
division of labor at home (Kamp, 2016; Kandiyoti, 2007). A carefully
crafted promotion of national traditions that occults a non-binary gender
order that once prevailed in some regions of Central Asia, contributes to
the reinforcement of conservative values and the imposition of hegemonic
masculinity and femininity models (Peshkova & Thibault, 2022). In some
communities, deviation from those definite, prescribed behaviors for men
and women can lead to shaming.
In the field of Central Asian studies, some authors have contributed
to our understanding of shame within local communities. For Shelek-
payev (2020), uyat became an element of (bio) politics in Kazakhstan to
impose a conservative heteronormative gender order in the mid-2000s
when political expression became more limited which prompted people
to resort to uyat tools to define their own identity, including political,
which could not find expression by other means. In their investigation
of bride-kidnapping in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, Werner and Sataeva
demonstrate that discourses of shame are used to pressure young women
to stay in their “new family” after being abducted (Sataeva, 2017; Werner,
2009). Female sexuality is under intense scrutiny and female sexual plea-
sure denied or deemed unimportant (Harris, 2005; Thibault, 2018). In
contrast, some studies demonstrate that women also find ways to circum-
scribe the fear of being shamed and make some independent choices, like
becoming second wives (Thibault 2021) or lying to their surroundings or
something more radical like hymenoplasty (reconstruction of the hymen)
(Zhanabayeva, 2018, p. 37). Yet, for others this medical procedure repre-
sents a form of violence and might actually contribute to support gender
discrimination and reinforce female submission (Kim et al., 2022).
In Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, scholars have demonstrated that contrary
to young females whose virginity must be preserved, young men are
encouraged and pressured to show their sexual prowess (Harris, 2004,
p. 79; Zhanabayeva, 2018, p. 39). In Kyrgyzstan again, research showed
that poor men are pressured by their parents to marry in order to
acquire some social status despite not having enough savings to orga-
nize a proper wedding. In some cases, this leads to men abducting
women to bypass the financial burden connected to notoriously lavish
wedding ceremonies known locally as “toi” (Kim & Karioris, 2020). A
few studies have addressed how uyat and prevalent gender norms also
constrain men to act and perform according to an idealized version of
masculinity. Focusing on Tajikistan and in light of deteriorating economic
conditions, Behzadi shows how women miners’ exclusion from mining
work is negotiated through notions of honor and shame and linked to
men’s loss of sense of self since the disintegration of the USSR and the
reconfiguration of masculinities with new work and resource struggles
(Behzadi, 2019). In recent years, social media has also allowed shaming
to be extended to the larger public and women’s behavior continues to be
scrutinized and reprimanded (Arystanbek, 2022; Kudaibergenova, 2019).
Beyond gender dimensions, others have addressed shame in the context
of the COVID-19 pandemic and argued that the pressure to participate in
family gatherings despite quarantine regulations might have contributed
to the spread of the virus (Caron & Orlov, 2022) in Kazakhstan. Finally,
focusing on broader family and community dynamics, scholars have also
revealed that adult children will be shamed for inadequate care given to
their parents (Kalysh et al., 2015).
In the public realm of Central Asian societies, a number of well-
publicized events have demonstrated the prevalence of this social tool
and the impact it may have on people, even the powerful. In 2017, Aliya
Shagieva, the daughter of former Kyrgyz President Atambayev, created
a scandal after she posted photos of her bump and of her breastfeeding
her new-born child on Instagram. She was accused of shaming her family
by sharing photos deemed too revealing (Amidi, 2017). Young people,
and especially females, are clearly more affected by this custom which
tends to reinforce a patriarchal conservative value system that emphasizes
the importance of female modesty, a traditional family where the wife is
subordinate to her husband, and children (even adults) to their parents. In
2018, Zere Asylbek, a then 19-year-old singer from Kyrgyzstan released a
video clip which immediately went viral because of its perceived provoca-
tive content. In it, Zere appears wearing a loose, knee-lenght skirt, a
purple bra, no shirt but a black blazer which reveals the flashy bra. Behind
her, we see young women dressed in long robes. After jumping in a lake,
all of them re-emerge wearing different outfits, ranging from jeans and
shirts to traditional Kyrgyz dresses. The message is meant to be eman-

cipating, encouraging women to wear whatever they want. The video,
and more specifically the singer’s revealing outfit, provoked an intense
backlash in Kyrgyzstan and Zere even received death threats for what
conservative actors consider to be an insult to the Kyrgyz culture. The
signer’s father, who claimed not to be too much in favor of her approach
nevertheless supported her and himself sharing a powerful message on
social media: “Zere is my daughter. The free daughter of free Kyrgyzstan”
(Wood, 2018).
Even though women are usually the primary targets of this custom,
shame is used in a variety of ways and its weight is also felt by
men, especially homosexuals and men who don’t live up to societies’
idea of masculinity, who are targeted and shamed for their behavior.
One notorious example from Kazakhstan has to do with Q-pop1 boy
band Ninety-One. Despite being immensely popular among youth, their
androgynous looks, use of make-up and colorful outfits made them very
unpopular among conservative circles in Kazakhstan, who accused them
of insulting national culture. Some of the band’s concerts were canceled
in the southern cities of Kyzylorda and Shymkent due to protests and the
authorities’ fear that anger could escalate (Tan, 2021). Given the strong
heteronormative character of the dominant gender discourse in Central
Asia, homosexuality inevitably also falls into the realm of uyat, if not of
criminal behavior. There were long periods of Soviet history when homo-
sexuality was outright criminalized and it remains so in Uzbekistan and
Turkmenistan today whereas Tajikistan, Kazakhstan have decriminalized
homosexuality after independence. Yet, same-sex marriage is not recog-
nized, and homosexuality is overall not socially accepted. According to
2019 survey results, a great majority of Kazakhstani respondents preferred
not to have neighbors who are from the LGBT community. The numbers
were particularly high (70.2%) among the 18–29 age group whereas
65,4% of respondents from the 61 years old and above category would be
uncomfortable living next to homosexuals (Friedrich Ebert Stiftung 2019,
p. 84). Cases of harassment, public shaming and violence are common in
the region (Kluczewska, 2019). As Levitanus discusses in this volume,
society’s intolerance is internalized and non-heterosexual individuals are
not only shamed by others but also feel shame. Given how much media
1 Q-pop refers to Qazaqstani pop, a style of music that is inspired by Korean pop music
known as K-pop.
coverage those examples received and the very content of this edited
volume, one can think that uyat is only used to dictate proper gender
behavior, yet it goes beyond the dimension of gender and has implica-
tions for other types of social and political repercussions which some of
the chapters in this volume will also highlight.
The concept of shame has a particular resonance in Central Asia not
only because it is considered a traditional feature of the local ethos but
also because it was a political tactic commonly used in the USSR to
impose discipline. Shaming was frequently used by the highest instances
of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) to keep members
in line and impose party discipline (Cohn, 2015; Fitzpatrick, 1999;
Ledeneva, 2011). Becoming a party-member was perceived as an achieve-
ment that only exceptional and irreproachable individuals could boast
about. In Central Asia, local members of the CPSU were methodically
sanctioned and shamed for their involvement in polygynous marriages,
bride-kidnapping and other “feudal” traditions (Cohn, 2015, p. 146).
Shaming also extended to ordinary citizens who violated socialist norms.
For instance, prorabotka, or rituals of public shaming, were organized
in schools, universities and workplaces to condemn individuals who had
deviated from the norm. Offenses ranged from expressing bourgeois
views, being drunk in public or laziness (Stephenson, 2021). In the
context of Central Asia, one could argue that the totalitarian power of
the Communist party to control individual behavior through symbolic
violence was superimposed on pre-existing local traditions. Today, those
legacies intertwine to form a complex system of socio-political regulation.
Kazakhstani scholar Igor Krupko (Krupko, 2020) suggests that in
Kazakhstan, uyat has become a powerful method of imposing symbolic
violence. Anchored in the Islamic and Soviet normative frames that have
stripped history of its sexual content, the narratives emphasize the pure
nature of the Kazakh nation. What he calls a “nostalgic utopia” rests
on national symbols and cultural codes, contributes to the production
and reproduction of social hierarchies, as well as increases the symbolic
capital of those who initiate those narratives. In this regard, an episode
that took place in Kazakhstan in 2019 is revealing. A Kazakh man in his
forties, Talgat Sholtaev, gained recognition when he publicly denounced
the unveiling of a statue in the capital Nur-Sultan which depicts a man and
a woman holding each other, because it was possible to see the contours
of the female body. Outraged by this artwork which he felt was shameful,
he covered the female statue in a colorful robe to protect her dignity
and posted his actions on social media which led to intense debates.
While some praised Sholtaev for his performance, others ridiculed him
and the “Uyatman” was made into a cartoon “hero” by illustrator Murat
Dilmanov. As a response, Asel Bayandarova, a successful plastic surgeon
from Almaty, posted photos of herself wearing only panties while hiding
her breast with one arm and declared that Kazakh women should not have
to submit to the “stupid” values of traditions. Following Bayandarova’s
post, other women copied her stunt and protested against the outrage
expressed by moralists. Although most of the shaming took place online,
there are also cases of real-life intimidation of women who are considered
immoral and shameful to the Nation. These two cases illustrate how uyat
manifests itself in the twenty-first century. In the digital age, shaming is
no longer limited to the local community and can now be extended to the
entire nation and beyond borders with the help of social media. According
to Krupko, “Uyatmen has become a symbol of extreme conservatism and
patriarchal views in Kazakhstan” (Krupko, 2020). However, uyatmen’s
actions are not met with defeating attitudes. On the contrary, some of
those affected by discourses of shame often decide to fight back.
As Levitanus writes in this volume “Shame is fundamentally rela-
tional”. One of the reasons why discourses of shame are used in attempts
to regulate behavior in Central Asia is due to the fact that kinship
bonds and other types of social ties remain very strong (Borisova, 2002;
Satybaldieva, 2015; Schatz, 2005). Even if solidarity ties remain very
important, Central Asian societies are also moving toward a certain indi-
vidualization of communities. This is due to several factors including the
changing nature of the workplace, internal and international mobility
(Dall’Agnola, 2021) as well as changing societal values which praise indi-
vidual accomplishments over group solidarity as Kabylova argues in this
volume. Urban Central Asian communities are also undergoing a certain
“revolution of intimacies” (Thibault, 2022) marked by the liberalization
of social mores and sexual practices.
Given its importance in the regulation of Central Asian societies, it is
surprising that the literature on this topic is extremely limited (Krupko,
2020). This volume is an attempt to explore the many variations of the
concept of shame in Central Asia’s contemporary societies. While we
acknowledge the legacies of pre-revolutionary and Soviet cultural norms,
we leave to others the task of studying the historical roots of this tradi-
tion and focus on its contemporary manifestations. Some of the questions
that authors in this volume address are: Among what groups of people
is shaming more prevalent? What are the behaviors that are generally
labeled as shameful? Is the younger generation less inclined to abide by
the demanding nature of this custom? What are the forms of resistance
people have developed against it? Is the fear of uyat challenging other
forms of authority, such as the one coming from the state or is it on the
contrary, used to affirm the authority of the leader?
Caron’s chapter sets the table for our understanding of shame and
guilt. Caron reminds us the need to differentiate between a “culture of
guilt” and a “culture of shame”. Guilt is based on introspection and the
idea that a specific action violates one’s conscience or a universal moral
rule, while shame rests on the fear of external sanction. One could also
add that feelings of guilt ultimately lead to legal sanctions that societies
impose on people, while shame relies more on the fear of social tyranny
that transcends the legal dimension, and which often turns out to have
more limiting effects on people’s behavior.
As mentioned earlier, the notion of uyat today is more likely to be asso-
ciated with conformity to gender norms and in this volume, Kenzhebaeva
and Kim, Kabatova and Levitanus explore the uses of shame to regulate
sexual behavior and gender norms in Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. Based
on extensive fieldwork conducted in Kazakhstan, Levitanus examines how
uyat is used to marginalize non-heterosexual behavior and how shame is
internalized but also resisted by local queer communities. If uyat is under-
stood as a tool to prevent deviation from the norm, then queer people
embody the ultimate subversion of heteronormative norms and exhibit
‘improper’ gender behavior. The author’s reflexive stance provides a rich
understanding of gender dynamics and the struggle for the recognition
of sexual diversity in Kazakhstan.
Also focusing on Kazakhstan, Kabatova’s first-hand account reveals
the deep underlying feelings of shame associated with sexuality among
youth and more specifically, sexual education in Kazakhstan which lie
in the taboo of discussing sexual matters not only within the family
but also in schools because of the seemingly biased attitude of teachers
and educators toward “deviant” behavior. Her study also highlights the
differentiated tolerance of female vs male teenagers based on the under-
standing of proper behavior and female purity. One of Kabatova’s most
surprising finding is the connection between the perceived purity of
Kazakh language and the taboo of sex talk. Finally, her study also high-
lights the public health problems associated with the lack of professional
sex education in Kazakhstan.
Kenzhebaeva and Kim’s chapter also focuses on the shaming of female

behavior but this time, in the context of family dynamics. Their research
sheds light on the relatively unexplored phenomenon of “nebere aluu”
which in Kyrgyz translates as “take a grandchild”. According to this tradi-
tion, new grandparents will adopt their sons’ firstborn child and raise
them as their own youngest child. Based on in-depth interviews, the
two authors reveal how the practice, relatively common in Kyrgyzstan
and to some extent in other Central Asian countries, proves to be very
painful for mothers who try to oppose it. Yet, this form of geriarchic order
(rule of the elders) is inscribed in patriarchal regime that determines the
role of young women as child-bearing individuals whose bodies can be
commonly owned and replaced. Given their subordinate position within
the social hierarchy, women’s resistance is met with discourses of shame
and is difficult to pursue.
What these three chapters have in common is that they show the
connection between the state-sponsored and popular nationalist narratives
and everyday gendered practices. The authors’ findings reveal that hege-
monic patriarchal heteronormative narratives are powerful and constrain
people’s behavior. However, those three contributions also show that
people tend to resist those norms and retain independence from elders
or distant social actors. Kabylova furthers this argument by contending
that uyat practices of the modern age in the form of online shaming,
are not effective and on the contrary, generate powerful backlashes that
delegitimize the efforts of those who shame. Focusing also on gendered
performances, Kabylova argues that uyat is losing of its significance in
Kazakhstan given the ongoing process of modernization and individual-
ization of society where people tend to pay less attention to the opinion
of others.
Shaming of sexual practices and gender non-conformity are not the
only ways that shame is used for regulating social behavior. In that
regard, Thibault explores how shame is used in Kazakhstan as a polit-
ical tool to legitimize one’s authority or delegitimize those of others.
Shaming is made possible by the hierarchical structure of power and
paternalist politics that glorify the leader. Closely connected to the prac-
tices of kompromat (gathering compromising material), shaming is also
used to sanction some individuals who have attracted too much attention
or got themselves involved in scandals and have tarnished the govern-
ment’s image. A close look at those dynamics reveals two tendencies:
those who are publicly shamed in a formal manner tend to keep their posi-
tion whereas those whose stories are leaked to the public via the media
fell into disgrace.
This volume is an attempt to shed light on a relatively unexplored,
yet determinant, aspect of socio-political dynamics in Central Asia and to
theorize some of the social practices and mechanisms of shaming. The
authors bring a nuanced perspective on the issue by not only insisting
on the oppressive nature of uyat but also by demonstrating how people
manage to navigate and resist those social constraints. At the excep-
tion of Levitanus, the authors in this volume did not adopt a reflexive
stance, even if as residents and natives of Central Asia, they have person-
ally experienced shame in one form or another. We hope that in the
future, scholars will engage in deeper ethnographic research to explore
this profoundly relational phenomenon. While this volume mostly focuses
on gender issues, we hope that future studies will widen the scope of
research and include topics such as ethnic and economic nationalism.
The increasing integration of Central Asian states into the globalized
economies and regional networks, notably the increasing presence of
Chinese interests in the region, have already sparked nationalist protests
which might become more common in the near future.
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CHAPTER 2
Conceptualizing Shame
Jean-François Caron
Trespassing the boundaries of what is allowed in order to experience what

is not permitted is certainly a desire that every human beings have expe-
rienced at least once in their lives. In return, this passage to the dark side
of what is socially forbidden is not something that can be done easily.
On the contrary, unless of being a sociopath, reasonable individuals will
be teared up by numerous fears and questions before crossing the red
line between what is allowed and forbidden, such as suffering the conse-
quences of being caught, if acting beyond the social norm is justifiable
or utterly reprehensible as well as what others will think of our behavior.
Following the work of the late American anthropologist Ruth Benedict
(1946), facing these fears and questions will mainly be done through two
main mental schemes, namely either through “guilt” or through “shame”.
In this short chapter, I will discuss the conceptual differences between
these two notions and focus on the social consequences of their distinc-
tive functioning as well as how they are impacting people’s behaviors. As
I will stress out, while the notion of guilt has a detrimental impact on
J.-F. Caron (B)

Nazarbayev University, Astana, Kazakhstan
e-mail: jean-francois.caron@nu.edu.kz

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-4328-7_2
16 J.-F. CARON
individuals’ decisions to act or not in a certain way, at least some types of

guilt cannot be compared in any way with the idea of shame which foun-
dations are socially constructed and by nature liberticidal beyond what
is reasonably acceptable in free and democratic societies. In the case of
Central Asia, this notion which is known as “uyat” or “aye”, leads to
social stigma and oppression on the part of people who are not abiding
with the dominant norms.
Fear, that is the fear of being punished, serves an important societal
purpose. Indeed, the Modern reflection has been profoundly anchored
from Machiavelli to Michel Foucault into the need for people to fear
being punished by the state as the only way to maintain peace, order and
stability within political associations (Caron, 2019a). Indeed, if humans
are naturally thought to always give priority to what is good for them-
selves even if it comes at the expense of others’ rights or interests
(Caron, 2019b, p. 13), the possibility of being able to organize social
life depends upon the capacity to hinder their selfishness and to find
ways that will force them to consider their individual actions within their
broader societal context and the interests of others. According to this real-
istic assessment of human nature, this can be achieved in many ways. For
instance, Machiavelli thought that the power of the law, the development
of a complex set of counter-measures that might prevent one group from
imposing its views on other groups with diverging interests, of a sense of
patriotism or an astute use of religion were all means that can achieve the
well-needed pacification of human relations.
This view on the necessity of social control as a prerequisite for justice
between humans and good governance can then follow two different
paths, one of them being what can be labeled as an acceptable way
of restricting individuals’ freedom through reasonable limitations and
another one that would rather depend upon the fear of being judged by
others according to their own subjective or cultural understanding of what
constitutes and acceptable behavior. If the former is what defines guilt
(and is socially needed) and derives primarily from individuals’ conscience
(Hiebert, 1985, p. 213), the latter is on the contrary the essence of shame
(and constitutes an unacceptable restriction on peoples’ freedom).
It is possible to argue that a society will achieve this primary objec-
tive when its individuals will have internalized within their psyche these
publicly known interdictions in such a way that their conscience should
be negatively affected whenever they are about to pose a forbidden act
or after they have disobeyed a rule not out of fear of being punished,
2 CONCEPTUALIZING SHAME 17
but rather because their projected or completed actions are colliding with
what their individual conscience dictates. In other words, the quintessen-
tial form of social control is when individuals no longer perceive forbidden
behaviors as a social construct that is imposed on them by an external
force that is ruling them out of fear, but rather when their own conscience
is refraining them from pursuing what is thought to be undesired actions.
Achieving this domestication of the inherently anarchical and selfish
human nature is what ultimately guarantees the long-term stability of
societies as well as their internal peace and order. Indeed, if restricting
one’s behavior would entirely lie upon the fear of being punished, inter-
subjective harmony would disappear as soon as this feeling would cease
to be hanging over peoples’ heads. Being able to shift from that type
of fear to a self-imposed limitation of one’s behavior deriving from
his/her conscience is therefore a societal need and the guarantee for the
maintenance of collective freedom.
Obviously, managing this type of control over human beings can either
be legitimate or an unreasonable way of monitoring their lives and to
deny them the capacity to pursue warranted behaviors. In an ideal world,
these taboos should not be the result of a social construct that are arti-
ficially imposed in order to allow one individual or a group of people to
instill an unreasonable control over other individuals’ actions and freedom
simply as a way to maintain its control over them. What I have described
as the necessary domestication of human life must not subordinate indi-
viduals’ natural right to pursue what are socially acceptable behaviors and
conceptions of the good life, which is why restraining oneself from trans-
gressing a given rule should solely lie upon a principle of justice that can
be universally accepted and understood by everyone irrespective of their
culture, religion or conception of the good life. To be more precise, a
legitimate and reasonable sense of guilt will exist when there is a corre-
lation between what is officially proscribed by the political association to
which people belong to and individuals’ capacity to understand it as an
action that violates first and foremost their conscience. As such, this sense
of guilt must be justified on peoples’ practical public reason, which is the
voice of the natural law of reason that has the ability to transcend indi-
viduals’ cultural or religious differences. This idea lies upon John Locke’s
vision of a pre-political and natural respect between individuals according
to which individuals should feel the discomfort of an internal sense of
guilt at the mere thought of ignoring the need to restrict their will when
they are about to pose an action that may be detrimental to others.
18 J.-F. CARON
Locke was indeed of the opinion that human beings are endowed with
reason, dominated by a universal morality that can govern intersubjec-
tive behavior in a way that predates the existence of a formal state law
which can unfortunately err and tyrannize individuals. Such individual
reason, which of itself imposes limitations on human actions, is a natural
consequence of the fact that individuals are not born to live in isola-
tion from one another. Consequently, the exercise of freedom can only
be a social reality that has no choice other than to consider the interest
of others, failing which humans would only be doomed to destroy each
other: a behavior which would then be unnatural insofar as the instinct for
self-preservation is typical to all human beings. This is why this Lockean
understanding of human behaviors is attached to what I have previously
described as a form of “responsible citizenship” where people have the
ability to restraint on their own some of their actions that may prove
detrimental to the interests of others (Caron, 2021a, 2021b).
As I have already argued elsewhere (Caron, 2014), distinguishing what
is allowed from what is forbidden is not open to relativism. On the
contrary, despite their profound diversity and multiplicity of conceptions
of the good life that we can find and that are encouraged to flourish in
liberal societies, individuals nonetheless have the capacity to regulate their
behaviors according to the respect of certain universal principles of justice.
In order to achieve such a possibility, the consensus around the princi-
ples of justice should not lie on comprehensive or particular doctrines,
but rather on universal norms that everyone can accept, despite their
respective religious or cultural beliefs. Considering the deep pluralism of
liberal societies, these universal norms, which can be discovered by any
reasonable human being, are the only element people have in common
that can allow them to organize their peaceful living together through a
common vocabulary. This is where the Rawlsian notion of an “overlap-
ping consensus” comes into play. This notion corresponds to the values
that constitute the basic elements upon which every rational human
being is able to accept. More precisely, this agreement will be possible
through the use of public reason, which can be defined as the language
of universal and transcultural principles of justice with which people can
debate the finalities of their political community, in a way that does not
refer to any particular religious doctrine. Since the principles inherent to
an overlapping consensus are seen as inalienable and fundamental indi-
vidual rights, everyone has the same capacity to question and assess their
individual actions as well as those of others. When that sense of guilt
derives primarily from peoples’ individual conscience and their practical

reason, formal prohibitions enacted by the state only end up playing a
surrogate role as the sense of culpability, rather than the fear of being
punished, will be sufficient in guiding peoples’ actions.
It is easy in this context to understand that guilt is not inherently liber-
ticidal. It is on the contrary a necessary feature of individual freedom and
the very possibility of being able to live in harmony with others while
facing minimal restrictions on our behaviors. Coincidently, guilt ought to
be considered as a needed virtue for the sake of common life. Considering
the foundations of Modern Liberal societies that lie upon the individual
and its rationality rather than on relationships, it is obvious why guilt
is considered to be the sole justified way of controlling people’s behav-
iors contrary to other countries, such as Japan, and traditional societies
where shame plays a more socially accepted role (Scheff, 2014). Contrary
to guilt, this feeling lies upon a totally different logic, as the decision to
behave in a certain way is not dictated by what our conscience dictates
with the support of our practical reason, but is rather associated with the
fear of being judged by others. As such, if guilt is deriving from one’s
rational conscience and can be felt independently from others, shame
is for its part a social construct that will depend on the imposition of
relativistic norms by individuals or groups of people who are controlling
a given society and who are imposing them in order to maintain their
dominance, which follows Erving Goffman’s statement that “there is no
interaction in which participants do not take an appreciable chance of
being embarrassed or a slight chance of being deeply humiliated” (1959,
p. 243).
The fear of being shamed is therefore at the core of what John Stuart
Mill once described as social tyranny (2003), that is when the society
itself—and not the state—is preventing individuals from posing certain
actions. Such a form of tyranny can easily become “more formidable than
many kinds of political oppression” (Mill, 2003, p. 76) insofar as individ-
uals are left unable to fight it through legislative means because it goes
beyond state control. As a consequence, this type of fear ends up “pene-
trating much more deeply into the details of life, and enslaving the soul
itself” (Mill, 2003, p. 76). While this might be more obvious in traditional
societies that emphasize the importance of interpersonal relationships, we
cannot deny the fact—and Mill was totally aware of it—that people living
in Modern Liberal societies also know the weight of this feeling as the
myth of the self-sustaining individual simply does not match the reality
20 J.-F. CARON
in which they are living despite their growing tendencies toward hyper-
individualism (Caron, 2020) and the ever growing number of legislations
punishing discrimination against groups whose beliefs of behaviors differ
from the ones from the majority.
“Uyat” is most likely a good example of this type of fear as the various
contributions in this edited volume are showing with great pertinence. In
the very patriarchal and conservative societies of Central Asia, shame is a
very pervasive form of social control over women used by other members
of the family circle as a way to maintain or gain a social status (like in
the case of the “nebere aluu” custom). The same can be said with regard
to the maintenance of heteronormative ideals that forces individuals not
abiding by these norms to silence their uniqueness or, worst, to commit
suicide out of fear of facing stigmatization or social disapproval. In return,
the price to pay for refusing to abide by this system can be very costly.
Indeed, many authors have previously described and explained the preva-
lence of family ties and obligations between members in the region (Rigi,
2004; Schatz, 2004). This cultural norm, which bears the ethical obli-
gation of helping one’s family members, penetrates all levels of Central
Asian societies and has been identified as one of the principal reasons for
the region’s systemic corruption and nepotism, which Edward van Roy
(1970) refers to as “the ethnocentric factor”. In such a scenario, facing
“uyat” from one’s family circle means being ostracised from individuals
whose support is fundamental for fulfilling basic needs. In other words,
when shame ends up playing such a societal role, the path out of servi-
tude may simply be too difficult to overcome for a majority of people: a
situation that expresses Mill’s aforementioned quote about the strength
this feeling may have on peoples’ will.
Furthermore, even though the fear of being shamed has been asso-
ciated in the literature on gender and sexual-related issues, it is also
important to note that “uyat” expands well-beyond these aspects and,
coincidentally, may have broader social consequences as well. Like it has
been shown elsewhere (Caron & Orlov, 2022), the fear of being labeled
as “uyat” has for instance played a detrimental role during the COVID-
19 pandemic since many individuals in Kazakhstan refused to abide by
the state’s decree to avoid large gatherings (family dinners, weddings
or funerals) in order to prevent the coronavirus from spreading and to
prevent the healthcare system from being overwhelmed out of fear of
being shamed for refusing such an invitation.
In conclusion, if there are acceptable ways of domesticating human

nature in a way that will not become utterly liberticidal for people, the
control can also become unreasonable and hinder individuals’ inalienable
right to pursue the course of action that they will deem more able to
allow them to pursue happiness. While the form of guilt that has been
discussed in this short text is a prime example of how controlling human
freedom ought to be done, shame is on the other hand akin to a form of
social tyranny that is not only detrimental to peoples’ natural rights, but
that can also lead to serious social consequences when the fear of being
shamed ends up having more importance than what conscience dictates
through the use of practical reason.
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de l’autorité en temps de pandémie. les Presses de l’Université Laval.
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CHAPTER 3
Purity vs. Safety: How Uyat Undermines

Youth’s Sexual Literacy in Kazakhstan
Karlygash Kabatova
Introduction
“We are young, and before everything else we are Kazakhs. It’s wrong
to know all these things.” This was the response of a sixteen-year-old
Kazakh boy in Atyrau to a question about whether young people need
information about sexual and reproductive health in their native language.
Atyrau is a city in west Kazakhstan with a harsh climate and constant
dusty winds. The region produces oil and natural gas, on which the
economy of the whole country relies. The boy’s response was the sad
epitome of the things I learned in the course of a study I conducted
in 2019. There are no SexEd classes within the formal system of educa-
tion but there is a strong resistance from certain groups of people to
any initiatives aimed at changing this. The purpose of the study was
to understand how youth and parents in Kazakhstan perceive sexuality
K. Kabatova (B)
Researcher and Advocate for Youth Sexuality Education, Nur-Sultan,
Kazakhstan
e-mail: karlygash.kabatova@gmail.com
URL: https://www.Uyatemes.kz

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-19-4328-7_3
24 K. KABATOVA
education. What discourses regarding sexuality education circulate among

youth and parents in Kazakhstan? What are their concerns? How can
sexuality education be instituted in the school system?
What the boy said sounded both shocking and simple, and made me
doubt everything I thought I knew about the reasons for low sexual
literacy in Kazakhstan. Could it be that it was not reliable information
about sex that young people were lacking but the willingness to receive
it?
In Kazakhstan, the lack of sexuality education leads to a plethora
of problems such as unplanned teen pregnancies and teen abortions
(often self-induced or in unlicensed facilities), abandoned newborns, early
marriages, and sexually transmitted diseases (STD). According to a large
2018 study, even though the average age of first sexual contact in the
country is 16.5, 46% of people aged 16–19 are not aware of the poten-
tial consequences of abortions and contracting STD (Alimbekova &
Shabdenova, 2018, p. 53). Children and youth are practically given no
information about these issues at home or at school, while society at
large deems any interest toward the topic as shameful. Sexual activity
among young people is also stigmatized. In the absence of any guid-
ance about safe sex, young people are exposed to misinformation through
social media, online pornography, and myths about sex circulating among
peers.
Some state officials resent initiatives to reduce unwanted pregnancies,
including teen pregnancies, instead seeking to raise the birth rates in
Kazakhstan (Sputnik, 2019). However, the growing number of protests
by mothers with many children (Mukhit, 2021), who are unhappy with
a lack of social and financial support from the government, shows that
a blind focus on increasing the population will engender many nega-
tive social and economic consequences. Moreover, a British Institute for
Health Research demonstrates evidence, that “children born to teenage
mothers have a 60% higher risk of infant mortality, a 30% higher rate
of low birthweight, and a 63% higher risk of living in poverty” (Hadley,
2019).
In this chapter, I will present findings from my 2019 study—in partic-
ular, how the culture of uyat is tightly intertwined with the capacity of
young people to find and receive reliable information, question existing
social norms, and become empowered to protect themselves as they begin
to form romantic and sexual relationships. Uyat is generally considered as
3 PURITY VS. SAFETY: HOW UYAT UNDERMINES YOUTH’S … 25
a practice of shaming and seeing something as shameful. However, this

concept is complex and can be defined from different perspectives.
Aiman Kodar, an academic specialist on Turkic culture, sees uyat as
the first of the pillars of Kazakh upbringing that informs children of
“what is shameful, tabooed and cannot be done under any circumstances”
(Suvorova, 2019). Zhaslan Nurbayev, a historian, believes that uyat helps
protect traditionalism, which many people see as the basis of the Kazakh
nation. If traditional social norms deteriorate, the very essence of the
Kazakh people will too, they think (Kabatova, 2020, p. 27). Diana T.
Kudaibergenova, a political and cultural sociologist who studies nation-
alism, power, and gender, agrees that uyat and particularly shaming “is
often used as a legitimation for maintaining a so-called or imagined ‘tra-
ditional’ order” (Kudaibergenova, 2019, p. 365). At the same time, she
reckons that uyat is “also a discourse of resistance for those who want to
question or counter” practices of retraditionalization, which she explains
“as a powerful and power-seeking discourse about one’s culture, nation
and tradition in the wake of globalization and growing nationalism”
(Kudaibergenova, 2019, p. 365). Thus, culturally uyat is a loaded concept
but can be generally understood as a method for people to keep each
other’s behaviors in accordance with collective norms. In the context of
sexuality, it would be considered uyat to expose one’s sexual life in any
way, like openly discussing sex or sexual partners or even admitting having
sex at all. This relates to a greater extent to women and youth.
Methodology
The study was the continuation of my work raising awareness about the
advantages of comprehensive sexuality education. I wanted to collect
empirical data to evaluate the demand for sexuality education among
Kazakhstani youth and parents. The primary research method was focus-
group discussions. With the help of a colleague, I conducted ten focus
groups: one with parents of young children and teenagers, and one with
teenagers in five selected cities. The research participants were not related
to each other and were recruited by a social research firm. In this chapter,
I will focus on the views and experiences of teenage participants in the
study and the messages that parents communicate to their children.
The selected cities were Almaty, Atyrau, Nur-Sultan (formerly Astana),
Shymkent, and Ust-Kamenogorsk, which I selected to represent different
regions of the country—center, east, west, south, and north. Almaty is
26 K. KABATOVA
a cultural hub of the country with the most ethnically diverse popula-
tion. Nur-Sultan is the capital, where students supposedly have better
access to various learning opportunities, like outside-of-school courses,
modern libraries, and scientific competitions. Atyrau, Shymkent, and Ust-
Kamenogorsk represent peripheral cities where distinct local cultures and
social norms might affect the overall approach to education.
The teenage focus groups involved students from grades 9–12 (ages
14–17). Both Kazakh and Russian speakers were recruited, and all groups
but one included an equal number of males and females (eight persons
total in each group). Parents of participants provided written permission
for their children to take part in the study. Each parent focus group
included equal numbers of men and women; they ranged in age from
28 to 45 and spoke Kazakh and/or Russian. The firm recruited parents
of both young children and teenagers, as I wanted to discuss aspects of
parenting depending on the age of a child.
With the help of the focus groups, I wanted to learn where teenagers
look for information about sexuality and sexual and reproductive health
(SRH); what topics are especially important to them; how easy or hard
it is to find reliable information; who they would like to get it from, in
which circumstances, and from what age; what types of media are the
most attractive and provide for efficient learning and acquisition of skills.
These discussions with young people revealed many insights into their
experiences growing up. For the purpose of this chapter, I will discuss the
following three factors that impact the level of young people’s awareness
about SRH and healthy relationships that were the most consistent in all
focus groups:
1) the role uyat plays in the ability to search for and receive informa-
tion, and in the quality of information provided to them;
2) linguistic-cultural socialization and family relationships;
3) gender-based differences in the messages youth receive.
In general, young people realize the risks of unsafe sexual behavior:

in the words of one participant, “Pregnancy, diseases, AIDS, HIV.”
However, in all five teenage focus groups, the participants overestimated
their sexual literacy. Many thought they “knew everything,” but a deeper
discussion revealed a lack of familiarity with even basic information that
would have made it easier for them to go through puberty. While they
technically understood what sex was, the teenagers had scarce or distorted
knowledge about how to avoid unwanted pregnancies or STD.
Male respondent, age 17 (Almaty):

“I have friends from small towns. They know what sex is and how to
do it, but they don’t know even the basics of contraception.”

“I heard that girls are recommended to have sex at 17 because by 18
they develop some kind of bacteria ...”
The Role of Uyat in Getting Informed

Schools and Teachers
In my previous work (Kabatova & Marinin, 2018), I analyzed the
absence of reliable sources of information about SRH and the lack of
a consistent, systemic approach to educating youth on this subject. One
major reason for this absence is a cultural taboo against discussing sex
and SRH, especially between adults and youth. This problem remains
even though schools try to organize some sexuality education activities.
According to teenage respondents, occasionally medical specialists pay
visits to schools to deliver lectures for senior students. They speak about
risks of unplanned pregnancies, abortions, and STD and show videos. The
following is characteristic of these attempts at sexuality education:
• lectures on prevention of early pregnancies and contracting STD are

often given only to female students;
• lectures on contraception happen rarely and generally only for male
students;
• the lone chapter about the human reproductive system in the biology
textbook is often left for independent home study without any
discussion in class.
International research has repeatedly demonstrated that prohibitions

are almost never a good strategy to prevent young people from doing
something. For example, in 2012, a group of researchers in the United
States conducted a meta-analysis of 23 abstinence-based sexuality educa-
tion programs in several U.S. states (Chin et al., 2012). This extensive
28 K. KABATOVA
analysis showed that efforts to prevent sex among youth by prohibiting

and demonizing it were ineffective. Abstinence-based programs did not
help to reduce the number of teenage pregnancies or the frequency of
HIV and other STD among teenagers. Nevertheless, abstinence-based
programs continue to be supported by state governments in the United
States, and visiting lecturers at Kazakhstani schools use a similar approach.
Teenagers mention that this information comes too late, and that they
wish it was given in grades 6–7. Based on the accounts of teenagers in all
five cities, school teachers basically take no part in raising sexual literacy
of students.
Male respondent, age 16 (Shymkent):

“They [visiting speakers] talk about precautions: ‘Don’t do this; other-
wise this will happen.’ Just as they must they gather all the information
and show it on an interactive board. Everyone [students] watches it and
says they won’t do that.”

“I think I learned [about sex] in the sixth grade. Teachers never told
us anything. We would go for a break, and all friends would watch porn
websites. That was the only way to learn.”
Female respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

“Nobody [among teachers] wants to talk about it.”
Male respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

“For example, biology. The whole third term was supposed to be
dedicated to this, but nobody talked about it.”
Participants in the parent focus groups often shared opinions about

“promiscuity,” “waywardness,” and a lack of respect for authority in the
current generation of young people compared to older generations. As
the reason, they cited modern parents’ preoccupation with work and
survival, which leaves no time for quality interactions with children.
Parents regret that “nowadays children are not afraid of their parents.”
However, the teenage focus groups showed that children try their best to
meet parents’ expectations “to be good.”
In the parent focus group in Nur-Sultan, I was lucky to have two
schoolteachers. This allowed me to investigate how both parents and
educators perceive youth. Discussions in this group demonstrated how
adults trivialize young people’s experiences and troubles and fail to see
them as autonomous individuals who deserve attention and respect.
Female respondent, age 43, teacher, mother of three (Nur-Sultan):

“Our school counselor tells me: ‘Can you imagine, a girl from your
class came to me saying that she’s in love with another girl. Take notice
that she is strange.’”
Moderator:
“Do you think she did the right thing by telling you?”
Female respondent:
“She did the right thing. I might have known [something] already ...”
Moderator:
“What can you do [about the situation]?”
Female respondent:
“I will just tell her mom”
Male respondent, age 36, father of four:

“Did you tell the mom?”
Female respondent:
“I observed the girl for some time. Turned out in the summer she dated
a girl, and in September she got a boyfriend. She went and told about it
to the counselor but not her mom.”
This example demonstrates how the inability to accept diversity in

sexuality and the readiness to stigmatize certain groups of people is trans-
mitted from the personal sphere into the professional. School specialists
whose duty is to take care of children’s well-being, including mental
health, find it appropriate to break children’s trust and ethical rules of
confidentiality (i.e., they discuss students’ private matters among each
other in a judgmental way). None of the parents in this focus group
questioned professionalism of the teacher and the counselor or raised the
issue of children’s rights. Such an attitude toward youth is not unique to
teachers and parents. Zhussipbek and Nagayeva argue that mindsets of the
majority of people in Kazakhstan were determined by the “Strict Parent
model,” based on “obedience to hierarchy, on one hand, and disrespect
30 K. KABATOVA
toward (and even violation of the rights of) those who are of lower status”
(Zhussipbek & Nagayeva, 2019, p. 138).
Sexual diversity is widely unacceptable in Kazakhstan, and any alterna-
tive to heteronormative relationships is viewed as shameful. A sociological
study about the values of Kazakhstani society found that LGBTQ +
people are viewed as the second least-favorable social group, after drug
addicts: 70% of respondents said they would not want to be neighbors
with LGBTQ + people (Ismukhanova et al., 2020, p. 70). This atti-
tude was also visible in the parental focus-group discussions. According
to several participants, when their children ask anything about LGBTQ
+ , they respond that people from these communities are sick and not to
be approached, looked at, or even discussed. Several parents remembered
how they paid closer attention to their children’s behavior after suspecting
them of homosexuality and worrying about it. In fact, “non-traditional”
sexual orientation scares Kazakhstani parents so much that in extreme
cases, they commit crimes and various violent acts against their children.
In a recent case that was widely covered in local media, parents forced
their homosexual son to marry a woman, kidnapped him, and subjected
him to brain surgery to “cure” his homosexuality (Radio Azattyq, 2020).
Family Relationships
Teenage focus-group participants who have trusting relationships and
open communication with their parents demonstrated a better under-
standing of the process of pubescent development, SRH, and healthy
relationships. There appears to be a positive correlation between the
quality of family relations and sexual literacy of a teenager. The partic-
ipants who reported having such a connection with their parents were
more often from bilingual or Russian-speaking families.
Young people lacking this openness in their families are wary of
speaking about puberty, sex, or SRH with parents, siblings, and other
family members. They are concerned that they would be suspected of
having too much interest in sex. At the same time, most often these
teenagers believe their parents to be highly knowledgeable about sexual
literacy and would like parents to initiate these conversations. When asked
why they think their parents were very knowledgeable, several teenage
participants in different cities said it was because their parents were able
to have children.
Both at school and home, the idea that sex and intimacy is bad,
dirty, and shameful is constantly communicated to youth. Nor do posi-
tive discussions about healthy and harmonious relationships take place
between adults—at least not in a way that is visible to young people.
According to teenage respondents, normally parents refrain from showing
affection to each other in front of their children, and when people kiss on
TV, children (even teenagers) are told to close their eyes or leave the
room.
This all raises a question: How should young people (who will become
adults and most likely be pressured by their families to start families of
their own) learn to build healthy relationships? All they know is that after
the wedding, pregnancy is no longer shameful. However, nobody explains
that family planning, taking care of one’s own SRH, and maintaining
respect for one another is as important after getting married as prior to
it. Suffering under the weight of parental expectations to be good and
unwilling to displease them even with questions, children suppress their
natural curiosities about their developing bodies and interpersonal rela-
tionships. Youth equate being informed about sexuality with wanting to
have sex—and sex is seen as bad, dirty, and shameful.
Moderator:
“What is sexual and reproductive health?”

“Purity.”
Female respondent, age 15 (Nur-Sultan):

“In many traditional Kazakh families with our mentality such topics are
not widely discussed. It’s a delicate topic. It’s not discussed often.”

“Yes, Kazakhs are such people. We don’t dress openly here like in
America.”
Female respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

“Such are the traditions and customs.”
Depending on how conservative parents are, sexuality education can

be taken to mean only promotion of abstinence before marriage. Having
the best of intentions, parents sometimes end up fully denying the fact
32 K. KABATOVA
that sex is a natural part of human life. Again, this raises the question:
How could youth possibly learn about healthy relationships and building
a family if parents teach them that only bad things come out of sexual
relationships?
Male respondent, age 40, father of a 12-year-old girl (Shymkent):

“He [nephew] says: ‘I don’t know what sex is.’ Then he asks me. I say
that it’s a shameful thing. It’s not something you could be proud of.”
Female respondent, age 44, mother of four (Shymkent):
“This [sex] is a bad thing. You’ll see it for yourself when you grow up.”
Uyat and Linguistic-Cultural Socialization

Discussing these issues with each other and with the moderators,
teenagers demonstrated the views that circulate in their surroundings—
family, school, and the society at large. Regardless of the region and the
language they spoke (Kazakh or Russian), it was clear that all partici-
pants came from families whose beliefs about sexuality, gender roles, and
relationships were patriarchal.

“Sexuality education is [meant] for two young people not to engage in
a sexual relationship before marriage; it’s to prevent it.”
Moderator:
“From what age do you think it is OK to engage in such relationships?”

“From 25, because only at 25 one reaches full sexual and reproductive
maturity. At 22–23 a baby can be born sick.”
In my analysis, I roughly assigned all teenagers (39 people in total)

to two types. Type One was a more informed teenager who is open
to learning about SRH and tends to speak openly about such topics.
Type Two was a teenager who is more timid, less knowledgeable, and
somewhat apprehensive about showing interest in SRH. I observed a
connection between such behavior and the language that prevailed in
the families and the surroundings of young people. Regardless of their
ethnicity, teenagers who grew up in a bilingual (Russian and Kazakh) or
monolingual Russian-language environment largely fell into the first type.
They shared their opinions more openly and said that they could go to
their parents with questions or problems. The youth who grew up in
Kazakh-language families and studied in the Kazakh language largely fell
into the second type.
Type Two young people have more hierarchical relationships with their
parents. Communication between children and parents in such families, as
described by the participants, largely precludes detailed discussions about
SRH and relationships. These are very sensitive topics that both adults
and children try to avoid at all costs. Parents, elder siblings, and other
relatives insinuate that children should be responsible, “behave,” and “not
bring shame to the family.” Thus, youth are cautious about what they say,
take notice of their parents’ moods, and act in order to avoid irritating or
angering their parents. They seek to be in line with parents’ conservative
patriarchal values and reproduce them further.
Female respondent, age 16, (Nur-Sultan):

“Parents instill some kind of fear in a child that some things are
shameful, and then the child gets scared and does the wrong thing.”
Female respondent, age 16, (Nur-Sultan):

“Probably those in the Russian-language class* not just appear to be
more mature; they simply talk about it [SRH] more. Kids in the Kazakh-
language classes act discreetly, hide things. They are shamed. It’s probably
this Kazakh mentality, a different way of upbringing.”
It was possible to discern that Kazakh-speaking teenagers felt a very

strong connection between their national or ethnic identity and their
sexual identity. One might even go as far as to say that being a Kazakh
meant needing to deny having any interest in sex or sexual pleasure for the
sake of sustaining the image of being “good.” This observation is consis-
tent with what anthropologist Ulan Bigozhin writes about as Kazakh
youth’s tarbie (“upbringing” in Kazakh): “[Y]ounger generations are
expected to have ‘proper tarbie,’ which means rejection of deviant forms
of behavior, including premarital sex, alcoholism, and smoking among
other things. Not having proper tarbie can negatively affect the social
capital of parents, a family, and even a lineage” (Bigozhin, 2019, p. 123).
The risk of damaging a family’s social capital or reputation is in fact what
bringing uyat to the family signifies.
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terrible state of alarm. But he refused any comfort, though he was
told that he need have no fear, as even then the Ghoorkas were
marching in from Langthabal, and as many as were needed could be
got down from Kohima in four or five days to retake the palace which
the rebel princes had got possession of. But all to no purpose.
Meanwhile my husband went away to dress, and in a very short
time the detachment of the 44th had arrived from the cantonments to
garrison the Residency in case of attack. But the fight was a very
feeble one, owing to the immediate retreat of the Maharajah and his
party, and after the first few shots all was quiet. My husband brought
every argument to bear upon the Rajah to induce him to brave the
matter out, and allow some efforts to be made to regain his throne;
but he would not listen to any reason, and after some hours spent in
fear and terror as to what the next move might be, he signified his
intention to my husband of making a formal abdication of his throne
for the purpose of devoting the remaining years of his life to
performing a pilgrimage to the sacred city of Brinhaband, on the
Ganges. He was in the Residency from two o’clock in the morning of
one day to the evening of the day following, as my husband was
anxious to get him to reconsider his hasty resolve to abandon his
throne; but fear of the Senaputti overcame all other sensations: he
persisted in putting his intentions in writing; the letter was sent
informing his rebel brothers of his decision, and in the evening he left
the place with a strong escort of Ghoorkas to see him safely down to
Cachar.
During the hours that he spent at the Residency, an incident
occurred which he (the then Maharajah) has since tried to bring up
before the public as an accusation against my husband; but the real
facts of the case were as follows: I have mentioned that on leaving
the palace that night the Maharajah was escorted by a number of
Manipuri Sepoys, all armed with rifles, besides the rag-tag and bob-
tail who carried swords, and daôs, and such weapons. To avoid
confusion and any unnecessary cause for alarm, the officer in
charge of our escort, and my husband, considered it wiser to deprive
the Manipuri Sepoys of their rifles for the time being. They were
therefore all collected and stowed away in a corner of the veranda,
and it was intended that they should, of course, be eventually
returned to their several owners; or if further hostilities were
commenced by the occupants of the palace, making it necessary to
defend the Residency, each Manipuri should receive back his rifle at
once, and be considered as part of our own force. But as the firing
had ceased entirely in the palace, it would have been unwise to
leave the Manipuri Sepoys in possession of their rifles, for they were
under no sort of control, and were ready to fire without any
provocation at all, a proceeding which would probably have been
attended with disastrous results, as the Senaputti would not have
hesitated to return the fire from his strong position in the palace, and
things would have assumed a serious attitude. The Maharajah was
consulted, and agreed to the proposition, and his men were
disarmed for the nonce. This has since been turned into a very
different tale by the exiled monarch to serve his own ends, and he
has accused my husband of disarming his troops without his
consent, thus disabling them from making any attempt to regain the
position he had forfeited himself through abject cowardice.
At length, after nearly thirty-six hours in the Residency, during
which the Maharajah would eat nothing, he made a formal abdication
in writing of his throne in favour of his next brother, the Jubraj; and
my husband, finding every argument of no avail, began to make the
necessary arrangements for his highness’s departure, which took
place in the evening of the second day. Some of the ministers came
to the Residency to bid him farewell, and seemed sorry that he was
going; and there were some very affecting partings.
No regret seems to have been felt, however, on the Pucca
Senna’s departure, as he and his two younger brothers
accompanied the Maharajah into his voluntary exile. The Pucca
Senna had never been a favourite. He was very bad-tempered and
jealous, and ready to find fault with everything, and make mischief all
round. People liked the Maharajah himself, but his favourite brother
was cordially disliked; and afterwards, when we were out in the
district in the winter, we used to hear the opinion of the country
people, and it was always that they considered it a pity the
Maharajah had gone, but they did not want the Pucca Senna back.
My husband bade them farewell on the banks of the river
separating the Cachar road from the Residency, and saw them
safely on their way, escorted by our Ghoorkas, and then returned to
begin a new régime, which was destined to last but a few months,
and end so unhappily.
Meanwhile, during the attack on the palace, and victory of the
rebel princes, the Jubraj had betaken himself to a place seventeen
miles from Manipur, called Bishenpur, there to remain a neutral
observer of the contest for the Ghuddi.[12] Had the Maharajah held
his own, and driven the rebels out of the place as he should have
done, the Jubraj would still have been on the right side by saying
that he was away, and consequently did not know what was taking
place in the city. As it was, he returned to Manipur as soon as
matters had settled themselves in favour of the Senaputti and his
adherent brothers, and accepted with calm equanimity the
government of the state, and the title of regent.
There has been some confusion over the different titles given to
the various members of the royal family at Manipur; and, to avoid
any further mistakes as to the identity of each, I cannot do better
than end this chapter with a tree showing the several princes and
their denominations both before and after the flight of the Maharajah,
known as Soor Chandra Singh—thus:
When the Maharajah went away, he took with him, as I have said
before, the three princes known as Pucca Senna, Samoo Hengeba,
and Dooloroi Hengeba, leaving behind him the remaining four, who
took upon themselves new titles as follows:
The Jubraj became Regent.

The Senaputti became Jubraj.
Prince Angao ” Senaputti.
Zillah Singh ” Samoo Hengeba.
Therefore in future I shall use these titles in writing of the new

Government to avoid confusion.
CHAPTER XII.
Vigour of the new reign—A magic-lantern performance—Conduct of the
bandmaster—First mention of Mr. Quinton—Visit to Burmah—Beauty of the
scenery—House ourselves in a Pagoda—Burmese love of flowers, and of
smoking—Visit Tummu—Burmese love of chess—First meeting with Grant—
He helps us to make a cake—Search after orchids—Arrival of visitors—
Important telegram from Chief Commissioner—Coming events commence to
cast shadows.
Early in November I returned from the hills, and went back to

Manipur. Everything seemed changed by the alteration in the
government of the state. There was little doubt that the new Jubraj
was practically ruler of the roost, and the improvement was very
great in everything. Roads that had been almost impassable in the
ex-Maharajah’s reign were repaired and made good enough to drive
on. Bridges that had been sadly needed were erected; some of them
on first-class plans, which were calculated to last three times as long
as the flimsy structures which existed previously. The people
seemed happier and more contented, and my husband found it
much easier to work with the Manipur durbar than he had done when
there were eight opinions to be consulted instead of four. There were
no more petty jealousies and quarrels among the princes, and I had
no fears about asking them all at once to any festivity.
At Christmas they all came to a magic-lantern performance. My
husband had got one out from England, and he made the slides
himself from photographs, choosing as subjects groups of Manipuris,
or photographs of the princes and bits of the country. A picture of
Miss Maïpâkbi was greeted with much applause on the part of the
Jubraj, who, by the way, had decided to add this young lady to his
other nine wives. The performance concluded with a large
representation of the ex-Maharajah in royal dress. Dead silence
greeted it, and an awkward pause; but my husband changed the
slide almost directly to one of a humorous character, which caused
everyone much amusement.
I mentioned the royal dress in the Maharajah’s photograph. This
was worn only on very great occasions, usually of a sacred nature. It
consisted of a coat and Dhotee made of silk, of a grayish shade,
embroidered all over in purple silk in a fleur-de-lis pattern. No one
but a prince could wear this particular stuff; and if anyone was found
with it on, whether in his house or on the public thoroughfare, he was
immediately seized, and deprived of the garments in question, and
everything else he happened to have on at the same time.
On one occasion the bandmaster expressed a wish to have his
photograph taken, and my husband arranged to do it for him on a
certain day. He arrived with a large bundle, saying that he wished to
be allowed to change his attire in our grounds, as he desired to be
taken in the royal dress, and could not walk from his house to ours
without being subjected to the ignominious treatment I have already
described. So he retreated to the largest tree he could find and
retired behind it, where he hastily attired himself in the coveted
robes, adding as extra adornment a cap of green satin embroidered
in gold, shaped like a small tea-cosy, and curious sorts of pads, also
of green satin, on the backs of his hands. He put a large red flower in
his buttonhole, and borrowed my husband’s watch and chain, as he
had none of his own. He looked a very queer character indeed, but
the photograph turned out a great success and filled him with delight,
which increased tenfold when I painted one for him. He divested
himself, after the picture was done, of his fine feathers, and took
them away in the same dirty, unsuspicious-looking bundle in which
they had arrived.
I was sorry to find that this bandmaster had left Manipur when I
returned there. He had gone down to Calcutta with the ex-
Maharajah, with whom he had always been a great favourite, and left
the band to the tender mercies of a havildar, who knew nothing of
music.
Early in January of this year, 1891, we went to Kohima to meet the
chief commissioner, Mr. Quinton, and spent a very pleasant four
days there. It was always such a treat to see people. Life in the
station at Manipur was so dreadfully monotonous, but I had been
better off than my husband, who had not seen any white faces for
several months. Not that that troubled him very much. He always
adapted himself to whatever er were his circumstances, and made
the best of them, never thinking of, and worrying himself for, the
many things he had not got. But when the opportunity of getting
anyone down to stay with us did arise, he was very keen about it,
and while at Kohima we tried very hard to persuade the chief and his
daughter to come to Manipur; but it could not be managed, as Mr.
Quinton had then arranged his tour, and had not sufficient time to
spare to enable him to come such a long distance out of his way.
That journey was always the difficulty, and had it not been such a
lengthy one, people at Kohima would often have come down to see
us at Manipur. But as a rule the whole of their leave was swamped in
coming and going.
From Kohima we went to Tummu, in Burmah, returning first to the
Residency for a few days. This was my first visit to Burmah. My
husband had gone down the year before, but I had been too ill to
accompany him, and had stayed behind. We had lovely weather, and
enjoyed the journey there immensely. The scenery on the way is
lovely, and as the forests are not so dense as those on the Cachar
road, one can get magnificent views of the surrounding country
every now and then. Range after range of mountains rise gloriously
around you, as you wend your way among the leafy glades and
shimmering forests which clothe their rugged sides. Cool and green
near you, growing purple as you leave them behind, and becoming
faintly blue as they outline themselves on the far horizon, these
mountains fill you with admiration. Forests of teak rise on each side
of you as you get nearer Tummu, and the heat becomes much
greater.
After five days we arrived at our camp, which was situated on the
boundary between Manipur and Burmah, at a place called Mori
Thana. Here we stayed, living in a pagoda, in company with several
figures of Buddha and many other minor deities, indicating that the
building was sacred. The Burmese are very fond of flowers, and they
always place vases of gaily-coloured blossoms in front of their gods,
and small punkahs to keep them cool. The pagoda we were lodged
in was built, like all Burmese houses, on piles, about three feet from
the ground. The climate is so damp that they are obliged to be
raised, or the floor of the house would very soon become rotten.
Everything at Tummu was quite different to Manipur: the women
dressed in much gayer colours, and did their hair more picturesquely
in large knobs on the top of their heads, into which they stuck tiny
fans, or flowers, or brightly-coloured beads. All the women smoke,
even the young ones, and one seldom sees them without a cigar in
their mouths. These cigars are made of very mild tobacco, grown in
their own gardens, and dried by themselves. They roll a quantity up
tight in the dried leaf of the Indian corn-plant, and tie the ends round
with fine silk. They are longer and fatter than those smoked in
England, and the Burmese girls at Tummu did not approve at all of
some from Belat which my husband gave them, as they were too
strong for them.
The Myouk[13] came out to see us the day after we arrived. He
was a Burman, of course, but spoke English very well indeed, and
was most anxious to be of use to us. He was dressed in silk of the
most delicate shade of pink, with a yellow turban, and he rode in on
a charming bay pony, looking altogether very picturesque. We
informed him that we intended riding into Tummu, so he politely
offered to escort us and show us the way; and he rode back with us,
and we found him a very pleasant companion. I was delighted with
Tummu, and we wandered about in the village, looking at the
pagodas, and investing in the curiosities to be got in the place. We
bought some lovely pieces of silk, and some quaintly-carved wooden
chessmen. The Burmese have a game of chess almost identical with
ours—the same number of pieces, and a board marked out in black
and white squares. The rules of the game, too, are almost exactly
the same, but the pieces are named differently, and carved to
represent elephants and pagodas, instead of castles and knights.
The Manipuris also played chess, and I once saw a lovely set of
chessmen carved in ivory and gold that the Maharajah possessed.
The ones I got at Tummu at the time of which I write were made of
oak, and were evidently ancient, which added a charm in my eyes,
though the Myouk was very anxious to get a new set made for me.
However, I went on the principle of a bird in the hand being better
than two in the bush, and marched away with my trophies on the
spot. We were returning to our camp for breakfast, when the Myouk
informed us that there was another Sahib living in the place, a
military Sahib of the name of Grant. This was news indeed to us, as
we had had no idea when at Manipur that we had any neighbours
nearer than Kohima, ninety-six miles away from us, and here was
someone only sixty-five—quite a short journey.
My husband said he would go and look the ‘military Sahib’ up, but
before he could do so the Sahib in question had looked us up. I do
not think Mr. Grant, as he then was, ever expected to have a lady
sprung on him unawares, and he seemed a little bothered over his
clothes, which were those generally assumed by bachelors when
they are safe from any possibility of female intrusion in the solitude
of a jungle outpost. However, he soon remedied that. He went away
to his bungalow after I had made him promise that he would come
back later; and when he did return it was in attire worthy of better
things than a camp dinner with camp discomforts. But he was so
bright and jolly that he cheered us both up, and made all the
difference during our four days at Tummu. We went to tea with him in
his tiny quarters, and had great jokes over the ‘army ration’—sugar
and butter—and the other etceteras of a temporary encampment. He
was quartered at Tummu in charge of a part of his regiment, and
considering the loneliness of his surroundings and the distance he
was away from any sort of civilization, we marvelled that he was so
cheery and full of spirits.
One day he came out to our camp at Mori Thana and helped me
to make a cake, which turned out afterwards, I am bound honestly to
say, burnt to a cinder. My husband made some cutting allusions to it,
and told me that it would save our having to invest in charcoal for
some days to come, and added many other remarks of the same
kind; but, nothing daunted, Mr. Grant and I set to work and carved up
that cake, discovering as a reward a certain amount in the middle
which was quite eatable and altogether excellent, which my husband
also condescended to try after some persuasion, and pronounced
fair.
We were all very keen about orchids, and these grew abundantly
on the trees round about Tummu, so we went for long rambles, and
returned always with armfuls of them.
We were very sorry to bid good-bye to Mr. Grant at the end of our
stay in Burmah, and we tried to persuade him to get leave and come
up to us for a time for some duck-shooting on the Logtak Lake.
On the way back we got the news that we were to have two
visitors, Mr. Melville, the superintendent of the telegraph department
in Assam; and Lieutenant Simpson, of the 43rd Ghoorka Rifles, who
had been ordered down to Manipur from Kohima to inspect some
military stores which had been left behind at the Langthabal
cantonment, when the troops went away. We were very pleased at
hearing they were coming, as even the ordinary two or three visitors
who had come every winter on duty in previous years had failed us.
Mr. Melville arrived about ten days after we returned to Manipur from
Tummu, but Mr. Simpson came almost at once. I had known him well
in Shillong, and we had always been great friends. He was very
clever, and a wonderful musician, and nothing pleased him better
than to be allowed to play the piano for hours, whatever he liked,
without interruption. My husband and he soon became good friends.
Their tastes were congenial, and Mr. Simpson was always delighted
to shoot with him, and he got on very well with the princes, especially
the Jubraj, who liked looking at his guns and talking military ‘shop’
with him. Several shooting-parties were organized by the prince, and
the Shikaris always returned with good bags.
Mr. Melville stayed only three days with us, but he promised to
return for another two on his way back from Tummu, where he was
going to inspect his office. On Sunday, February 21 (the day Mr.
Simpson arrived), in the evening we were surprised by getting a
telegram from the Chief Commissioner, the gist of which was as
follows:
‘I propose to visit Manipur shortly. Have roads and rest-
houses put in order. Further directions and dates to follow.’
We were electrified! Why was the Chief coming like this suddenly?
The telegram gave no details, and the one and only cause for his
unexpected visit that we could think of was that it had something to
do with the ex-Maharajah. This individual had been, during these
months, in Calcutta, from which place he had concocted and
despatched more than one letter to Government, begging for a
reconsideration of his case, and help to regain the kingdom which he
had been unjustly deprived of by the Jubraj, assisted by my
husband’s influence.
Curiosity had naturally been rife at Manipur as to whether the
exiled monarch would be restored by our Government, and the
Jubraj and Tongal General had never ceased asking my husband his
opinion about it. We knew full well that if such a step were
contemplated, the fulfilment of it would be a difficult operation, as we
were aware of the bitter feeling which existed against the ex-
Maharajah, and more especially against his brother, the Pucca
Senna. From private sources we had heard that arms, ammunition,
and food were being collected by order of the Jubraj inside the
palace.
This information came to me quite casually one day. We used to
employ a Manipuri Shikari[14] to shoot wild duck for us during the
cold weather, when my husband was not able to get them himself,
and I sent for this man one day, and told him what I wanted him to
get for us. He said he was not able to shoot, as the Jubraj had
ordered him, as well as all the other men in his village, to bring their
guns into the palace arsenal, and that all the villages in the
neighbourhood had received similar commands. I let the man go,
and went and repeated the story to my husband, who remarked that
it looked as though preparations were being made to resist the ex-
Maharajah, should he return to Manipur. Of course, on the receipt of
the telegram from the Chief Commissioner, my husband had to
inform the durbar of his approaching visit. Curiosity reached an
overwhelming pitch, and the efforts of the Jubraj and his colleagues
to find out what was going to happen were unceasing. They never
quite believed that my husband was as ignorant as they were
themselves about things, and invariably went away much disturbed.
We ourselves were just as curious and longing to know what was
really coming to pass.
In the meanwhile I had arranged to leave for England.
For more than three years our one talk had been of furlough and
home, and now that the date of sailing had been really fixed, it
seemed almost impossible to put it off in order to be at Manipur
waiting to see the results of the Chief’s visit. My husband said,
however, that he thought it would be more prudent if I arranged to go
by an earlier steamer, to be out of danger in the event of anything
serious happening, and consequently all the necessary
arrangements were made for my departure. I couldn’t help feeling
that I would rather stay, however, and, as I said to a friend in writing
home, ‘see the fun,’ and my packing did not progress satisfactorily at
all.
Mr. Simpson was very keen to remain at Manipur, too; but all his
work was done there, and there was really no reason for his
stopping. He wired to the colonel of his regiment for permission to
remain, and my husband backed the request up, so eventually the
necessary leave was granted, and he was delighted at the mere idea
of a disturbance which might mean fighting. Of course the sudden
alteration in my plans did not escape the notice of the Jubraj, and in
fact the durbar itself. It seemed as though the whole State was on
the qui vive, to discover any slight clue to the mystery which
surrounded the visit of the Chief Commissioner. My sudden
determination to depart was looked upon as possessing a very
serious meaning indeed. I was flying from danger. This was the
prevailing idea, and the Tongal General asked me point blank one
day whether it was the case or not, at the same time begging me to
put off going till after the Chief had left Manipur. The princes used
every persuasion they could to induce me to remain, and they and
the old general came more than once with messages from the
Maharajah to the same effect. We explained to them that my
passage was taken and paid for in the steamer, and that the money
would be forfeited if I failed to sail on a certain date; but this had no
weight, and they did not seem to like my going away at all, and
begged me to stay on. These persuasions, added to my husband’s
extreme reluctance to let me go, and my own wish to remain, carried
the day.
About ten days before Mr. Quinton arrived we heard for certain
that the object of his visit was not the restoration of the ex-
Maharajah, and so, after much coaxing from me, my husband,
thinking of course that no danger could now be possible, allowed me
to stay. I remember so well how lightly we talked over coming
events, and my husband saying that if anything did happen, they
would make me a nice safe place in one of the cellars under the
house. Could we but foresee what is behind the dark veil with which
the future is enveloped, and know that sometimes in our idlest
moments we are standing as it were on the brink of a grave, is there
one of us who would not rather die at once than struggle on into the
abyss of desolation and death awaiting us in the near future? And
yet it is undoubtedly a merciful Providence that orders our comings
and goings from day to day in such a manner that we cannot peer
into the mist of approaching years, and discover for ourselves what
fate awaits each one of us. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil
thereof.’
CHAPTER XIII.
Preparations for the Chief Commissioner’s visit—Despair over the commissariat—
Uncertainty of Mr. Quinton’s intentions—Uneasiness of the Manipuris—They
crowd into their citadel—Decision of the Government of India, and their policy
against the Jubraj—Death of our dinner and our goat—Arrival of Mr. Quinton
and Colonel Skene—Mr. Grimwood ordered to arrest the Jubraj—The Regent
and his brother appear at the Residency—The Manipuris suspect hostility—
The old Tongal—Last evening of peace.
Of course there were a great many preparations to be made in

honour of the Chief Commissioner’s visit. The question which
occupied my attention most was how to feed so many. The
resources of the country in the way of food were very limited. Beef
was an impossibility, as no one was allowed to kill a cow, and mutton
was almost equally unprocurable. The Jubraj kept a few sheep for
their wool, and once in a way he killed one or two of them to provide
a dinner for all the Mussulman officers and servants in the palace;
but this occurred very seldom. We lived on ducks and fowls all the
year round, and managed fairly well; but having to provide for
sixteen people was a different matter altogether. My husband made
several valiant attempts to secure some sheep from Cachar, and
after much difficulty he got four, and we heard they had commenced
their march up to Manipur. But they never arrived alive. The drover
was a most conscientious person, and took the trouble to bring the
four dead carcases up to the Residency for our inspection, to assure
us that the poor animals had died natural deaths, which we thought
very touching on his part.
We were in despair over our commissariat, but at last that
invaluable domestic, the bearer, came to the rescue, and proposed
that as we could not get genuine mutton, we should invest in a goat.
One often eats goat in India, deluding one’s self with the idea that it
is sheep, because it has cost one as dear, and the native butcher
swears that he is giving one the best mutton in the district. But after
you have kept house for a year or two, and got to know the wily
Oriental, you are able to distinguish truly the sheep from the goats.
Be that as it may, when one can’t get one thing, one must content
one’s self with the best substitute; and on this occasion I was very
grateful to the bearer for his timely suggestion, and commissioned
him to search the neighbourhood for the desired goat, which after
some days was discovered, and brought to the Residency for
inspection. We had a committee of four on it, and came to the
conclusion that it was a most estimable animal, and altogether
worthy of providing dinner for a Chief Commissioner. So we bought
that goat, tethered him in the kitchen-garden, and fed him every day
and all day. He grew enormous, and slept a great deal when he was
not eating, which was his favourite occupation.
Meanwhile the days went by, and at last only one week remained
before the Chief’s arrival, and by that time we knew that he was
bringing an escort of four hundred men with him and several officers;
but we did not know how long they were going to stay, or why so
many were coming, or whether they were going on to Burmah. A
telegram had come some days previously, telling my husband to get
coolies ready to take the party to Tummu, and he thought from that
that it was Mr. Quinton’s intention to pay a visit to that part of the
valley; but everything seemed uncertain, and the Manipuris were
very curious to find out what it all meant.
About a week before the Chief arrived Mr. Gurdon was sent on to
see my husband, and talk over matters with him; but even then we
were ignorant of what was really intended, and it was only on the day
before they all arrived—Saturday, March 21—that my husband was
told all by Mr. Quinton himself, whom he had ridden out ten miles to
meet. He started out in the morning for Sengmai, the first halting-
stage on the road to Kohima from Manipur, and on his arrival he
wired to me, telling me to expect eleven to breakfast the next day,
which, with ourselves, Mr. Melville, and Mr. Simpson, made fifteen.
Mr. Simpson and I went for a ride that evening, and as we were
returning we both remarked the great number of Manipuri Sepoys we
met, hurrying into the citadel. They swarmed along the road, and on
getting near the big gate of the palace we had some difficulty in
getting our horses through the crowds which were streaming into the
fort, and I was quite glad when we got back safely into the
Residency grounds again. My husband returned about seven from
Sengmai, very tired and very much worried at all he had heard. I
went into his little private office with him, and there he told me of
what was to take place on the morrow, making me promise not to
breathe a word of it to either Mr. Melville or Mr. Simpson, as it was to
be kept a dead secret. He wrote off at once to the Regent, telling him
that the Chief Commissioner would hold a durbar on the following
day at twelve, at which he hoped all the princes would appear, and
then we went away and had dinner. It was difficult to talk of other
things while our minds were full of the information my husband had
received, and I was very glad when the evening ended, and our two
visitors had gone to bed.
It had been decided to recognise the regent as Maharajah, but his
brother, the Jubraj, was to be arrested at the durbar the next day,
taken out of the country, and banished for several years. That was
the news my husband brought. It has been hinted of late by some
that the friendship which we had both entertained for the Jubraj was
infra dig., and contrary to the usual mode of procedure adopted by
Anglo-Indian officials in their intercourse with the rulers of native
states. But when first we went to Manipur, my husband was told that
he must endeavour to establish friendly feelings between the princes
and himself, and that he was to make a point of becoming
acquainted with their language, in order to acquire an influence for
good over each member of the Maharajah’s family and over the state
itself.
I do not think there was ever any loss of dignity or unbecoming
familiarity in my husband’s friendship for the Jubraj. Full well that
prince, and all the other members of the durbar, knew that where
things went wrong they would not escape his notice and reproof,
even as when they went right he would give praise where praise was
due; and if such a friendship were distasteful and unusual in similar
circumstances, why was it never commented on by those in whose
power it was to approve or disapprove, and who knew that it
existed? Small wonder was it that we were both very sorry to hear of
the fate which was in store for the Jubraj. We remembered all the
little acts of courtesy and kindness which he had performed to help
make our lonely existence brighter, isolated as we were from any
English friends, and we knew how much he would feel being sent out
of Manipur at so short a notice. However, we could do nothing by
talking it over, and so went to rest ourselves, resolving to think no
more about it until the next day.
The morning of the 22nd broke clear and beautiful over the valley.
The place had never looked more lovely. Clusters of yellow roses
blossomed on the walls of the house, and the scent of the heliotrope
greeted me as I went into the veranda to watch my husband start to
meet Mr. Quinton. There was a delightful sense of activity about the
place, and one felt that something of more than ordinary importance
was about to take place; white tents peeped out from amongst the
trees surrounding the house, and the camp prepared for the Sepoys
stretched along under our wall at the end of the lake. Mr. Simpson,
and I strolled down the drive, out into the road, to see the
preparations in honour of Mr. Quinton’s coming. Chairs were placed
near the principal palace gate, and a carpet, and a table with flowers
on it; and there were a great many Manipuri Sepoys lining the road
by which he was expected to arrive.
I was called back to the house by the bearer with a piece of
intelligence which almost took my breath away—the goat was dying!
I raced back to the Residency, and rushed to the scene of action.
There on the ground lay the goat, breathing his last, and with his
departing spirit went all my dreams of legs of mutton, chops and
cutlets. I sent to the house for bottles of hot beer and quarts of
brandy, and I poured gallons of liquid down the creature’s throat; but
all to no purpose, and after giving one last heartrending groan, he
expired at my feet. I could have wept. The pains that had been taken
with that goat to make it fat and well-favoured for the delectation of
my friends! and then that it should shuffle off this mortal coil on the
very day fixed for its execution was altogether heartrending. I think I
really should have found relief in tears, had not my attention been
aroused by the sound of the salute being fired from the palace,
which meant that the Chief and his party had appeared in sight. So I
turned away sadly, after giving orders to have the creature buried,
and proceeded to the house, where I met Mr. Simpson and Mr.
Melville. They both expressed much sympathy, but we could not help
seeing the funny side of the affair, and ended by laughing very
heartily over the sad end to my mutton scheme.
Twelve times did the gun boom from the palace, and by the time
the twelfth had sounded, Mr. Quinton, accompanied by Colonel
Skene and my husband, had arrived at the house, followed shortly
by the other officers, who had remained at the camp to see their men
comfortably housed and settled. We all went in to breakfast, but I
noticed that my husband seemed troubled about something, as he
scarcely spoke at all, and I wondered what fresh news he had heard.
However, I had no opportunity of speaking to him at all, and the
conversation flowed merrily round the table. I knew very few of the
Chief Commissioner’s party, as all the officers belonging to the 42nd
Ghoorka Rifles were total strangers to me. Of the rest, Mr.
Brackenbury and I were perhaps the oldest friends. He had been
stationed at Manipur before, when we first came to the place, and we
had seen a great deal of him, so were glad that he had come on this
occasion.
As soon as breakfast was over, preparations were made for the
durbar, and the work of the day began. I had no opportunity of
speaking to my husband until he was dressing for the ceremony, and
then I went and asked him what was bothering him; and he told me
that he had been ordered to arrest the Jubraj at the close of the
durbar. It is not for me to give an opinion on this point at all, and
whether such a course of action was honourable or not; but it was
only natural that my husband should feel sorry that he had been
chosen to carry out such a proceeding. To be obliged to arrest a man
himself with whom he had been on friendly terms for nearly three
years, and see him treated like a common felon, without being able
to defend himself, was naturally a hard task, and my husband felt it
bitterly.
I summoned up courage to ask whether some other officer might
not make the arrest, as it had to be made; but was told that the
Jubraj would probably feel it less if my husband did it, as they were
good friends. Precautions were taken to prevent his escaping. The
doors of the durbar room were all locked with the exception of the
one by which the princes would enter, and guards were stationed in
the adjoining rooms, as well as all round the house and in the
verandas. Most of the officers were ignorant of what was intended,
and they were joking with me, and trying to find out whether I were in
the secret or not, while we were waiting for the Maharajah to arrive.
Meanwhile the written orders of the Government of India had to be
translated into Manipuri, and for this purpose two of the office clerks
and the Burmese interpreter were brought to the Residency and
given the papers to translate. The orders were lengthy, and the
translation of them took some time. Each of the clerks had a sentry
placed over him, and they all had to swear an oath that they would
not divulge one word to anyone of the contents of the papers given
them to translate. Some time before they were completed the regent
and all his brothers arrived at the Residency gate. I have laid
particular stress on the word all, because it has been said that the
Jubraj did not accompany his brother on this occasion, though
subsequent evidence has since appeared showing that he was really
present with the rest. Had there been no reason for keeping the
princes waiting at the gate, things might have ended very differently.
But that delay enabled some of the Manipuri Sepoys to gain
admission into the Residency grounds, from where they could take
note of all the proceedings. They made good use of their
opportunities, marked the distribution of our forces, saw the
Ghoorkas lining the entrance-steps, and the officers in uniform in
attendance outside. Some of them even strolled round to the back of
the house, and there they saw the same preparations—Sepoys on
the steps, and guards about the grounds.
Of course the Manipuris did not keep this to themselves, but made
their way out again to the Jubraj, and told him of all they had seen;
and he took the opportunity to return to his house with his brother,
the Senaputti, giving out as an excuse that he felt too ill to remain
waiting about in the hot sun. He had not been well for some time
before, but whether he really felt as indisposed on this occasion as
he affirmed is open to doubt. He had already made the acquaintance
of the Chief Commissioner, and so had the Senaputti, as the latter
had ridden out to Sengmai on the Saturday to meet Mr. Quinton, and
the Jubraj had also met him seven miles out of Manipur on Sunday
morning.
When, therefore, the regent was asked to come on to the
Residency, he came, accompanied by his youngest brother only,
Prince Zillah Singh, the Tongal General, and some other less
important ministers. As soon as my husband saw that his highness
had arrived without the two elder brothers, he informed Mr. Quinton,
who sent out word to the regent that the durbar could not be held
without the attendance of the Jubraj and Senaputti. My husband had
a long conversation with the regent before his highness came into
the house, and the latter agreed to send for his brothers to the
palace, coming himself into the Residency to await their arrival. It
seemed a long time before the messenger returned from the palace.
The old Tongal was so seedy at the time that we wondered at his
having been able to put in an appearance at all. I went into the
drawing-room, and found the old man asleep on the floor, and got
him to lie down on a sofa with a pillow under his head, where he very
soon slumbered peacefully. At last the regent’s messenger returned
with the reply from the Jubraj that he was too ill to leave his house,
and hoped Mr. Quinton would excuse his appearing; so the durbar
was postponed till the next morning, Monday, March 23, at eight
o’clock, and it was impressed upon his highness that his two
brothers must attend. They then went away. There is little doubt that,
from this moment, some inkling of what was intended penetrated the
minds of the princes and their ministers, just as all the officers
guessed that it was the Jubraj who was ‘wanted.’
However, business being over for that day, we set to work to
amuse ourselves as best we could, strolling about the grounds, and
into the bazaar in the evening. We had already arranged to have a
polo-match one day during Mr. Quinton’s visit, in which the princes
were to play; and the regent had promised to have a review of his
troops, which was always a pretty sight. In addition to this, the band
had been lent to us to play every evening at dinner; and we were to
have a Manipuri nautch on the Monday, followed by a Naga dance

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Uyat and the Culture of Shame in

Central Asia 1st Edition Hélène Thibault

Uyat and the

Uyat and the Culture

ISSN 2524-8359 ISSN 2524-8367 (electronic)

1 An Overview of Shame and Its Manifestation in Central

7 Shaming as a Form of Political Accountability

Caron Jean-François is an associate professor at the Department of Polit-

impact of social policy mechanisms, family institution and labor market

is entitled “Regulation and Negotiation of Queer Subjectivities in post-

Table 3.1 Messages communicated to youth divided by gender 37

Table 4.5 The participants’ responses to the question in the survey

An Overview of Shame and Its Manifestation

Hélène Thibault and Jean-François Caron

Shame, referred to as uyat in Kyrgyz, Kazakh and Uzbek, and as sharm

H. Thibault (B) · J.-F. Caron

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

usually rely on a heteronormative conservative gender order, kinship

from social welfare led to an increase in people’s reliance on local commu-

shirts to traditional Kyrgyz dresses. The message is meant to be eman-

Kenzhebaeva and Kim’s chapter also focuses on the shaming of female

Steppe and Beyond: Studies on Central Asia). https://www.palgrave.com/

Kluczewska, K. (2019). Donors’ LGBT support in Tajikistan: Promoting diver-

Stephenson, S. (2021). “A ritual civil execution”: Public shaming meetings in the

Trespassing the boundaries of what is allowed in order to experience what

J.-F. Caron (B)

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 15

individuals’ decisions to act or not in a certain way, at least some types of

derives primarily from peoples’ individual conscience and their practical

In conclusion, if there are acceptable ways of domesticating human

Rigi, J. (2004). Corruption in post-Soviet Kazakhstan. In I. Pardo (Ed.),

Purity vs. Safety: How Uyat Undermines

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 23

education. What discourses regarding sexuality education circulate among

a practice of shaming and seeing something as shameful. However, this

In general, young people realize the risks of unsafe sexual behavior:

Male respondent, age 17 (Almaty):

Male respondent, age 17 (Almaty):

The Role of Uyat in Getting Informed

• lectures on prevention of early pregnancies and contracting STD are

International research has repeatedly demonstrated that prohibitions

analysis showed that efforts to prevent sex among youth by prohibiting

Male respondent, age 16 (Shymkent):

Male respondent, age 15 (Almaty):

Female respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

Male respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

Participants in the parent focus groups often shared opinions about

Female respondent, age 43, teacher, mother of three (Nur-Sultan):

Male respondent, age 36, father of four:

This example demonstrates how the inability to accept diversity in

Male respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

Female respondent, age 15 (Nur-Sultan):

Male respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

Female respondent, age 16 (Atyrau):

Depending on how conservative parents are, sexuality education can

Male respondent, age 40, father of a 12-year-old girl (Shymkent):

Uyat and Linguistic-Cultural Socialization

Male respondent, age 16 (Shymkent):

Male respondent, age 16 (Shymkent):

In my analysis, I roughly assigned all teenagers (39 people in total)

Female respondent, age 16, (Nur-Sultan):

Female respondent, age 16, (Nur-Sultan):

It was possible to discern that Kazakh-speaking teenagers felt a very