دفتر روشن

[ ] Introduction[1]
Hindsight and recent research have demonstrated that Soviet and Western observers misunderstood or ignored some of the most fundamental and resilient aspects of Islamic religious practice in the Soviet Union. Soviet scholarship in the field, ever bound by its ideological constraints, aimed to reduce Islamic belief and practice to out and out superstition and survivals of primitive pre-Islamic times. And although work done by Soviet specialists did provide information about the existence and ethnographic "make-up" of many popular Islamic beliefs and practices, the rigid approaches inherent in Soviet research left little possibility for broad analysis. Much of the research carried out by Western specialists, on the other hand, took direction from the Sovietology tradition and therefore was generally oriented to uncovering signs of anti-Soviet or politicized Islamic activity. Furthermore, specialists from non-Soviet-bloc countries were denied meaningful access to the Islamic areas and could only attempt to interpret and analyze the work of their Soviet counterparts. Thus the subject of Islam as it was practiced by the majority of Soviet Central Asian Muslims basically remained untouched by non-Soviet interpretive frameworks.
In this article I will provide a glimpse into Islam in Central Asia and more specifically highlight the fundamental traits and aspects of shrine-centered religious practice in Turkmenistan. In doing so, I hope to shed some light on some of the processes that are at the core of Islam in Turkmenistan. I also plan to demonstrate that shrine pilgrimage (zïyarat) and the beliefs underlying it have played fundamental roles not only in shaping Islam in Turkmenistan (and by extension throughout Central Asia) but also in creating and sustaining communal identity in the region up to the present day.
The shrine complex has long been prominent on the Islamic landscape and its significance has been noted by many scholars.[2] With few exceptions, however, specialists have given little attention to shrine-centered religious activity in the context of Central Asia.[3] A look into current Central Asian Islamic practice coupled with a knowledge of religious behavior in the region from a historical perspective provides ample evidence that shrines have long been critical focal points of Islam among the Turkmen.
What follows is based on a review of literature on shrines in Turkmenistan and associated activities. Aside from offering a brief analysis of some of the most pertinent aspects of the literature, I will provide information gathered during research visits to Turkmenistan in 1993-1995.[4]
The Origins of Islam among the Turkmen and the "Holy Tribes"
Recent research into the Islamization of parts of the former Soviet Union (DeWeese, 1994 and forthcoming) provides useful paradigms for understanding how conversion, communal identity, and saint status may be closely linked concepts critical to the origins and development of shrines among the Turkmen. One aspect of this paradigm suggests that Muslim "holy men" (Sufi shaykhs) emerged as key players in conversion due in part to their knowledge of Inner Asian pre-Islamic ("religious") traditions and their ability to convey Islam's power and meaning in ways understandable, recognizable, and meaningful to local populations. The conversion of these communities to Islam, as stressed in subsequent oral conversion narratives, was often acknowledged as the genesis of the community itself -- its re-formation or re-definition in Islamic terms. The prominence of ancestor worship in Turkmen religious traditions apparently provided fertile soil for Islamic conversion and converter to take on indigenous "religious" meaning. One of the most visible indicators of this is the status of tribal or communal progenitor often ascribed to figures believed to be Islamicizers among the Turkmen. The burial sites of these Muslim founding fathers became then a focal point of veneration and were accompanied by a sort of "Muslim shamanism" -- ancestral spirits came to be identified with the companions of the "saint-progenitor" and the burial sites (real or imagined) took on the qualities of shrines where vital concerns (both spiritual and otherwise) could be addressed. These shrines thus emerged not only as sites where sacred power was localized but as nexus points where Islam and the traditions of pre-Islamic times joined and developed -- here local communities dealt with Islam and accepted it as their own. Perhaps most importantly, as later developments would show, the holy sites became part and parcel of daily life, accessible to all members of the community.
Beside venerating sites of ancestral Islamicizers, communities in Central Asia adopted saints with other qualifications, and a variety of personages considered to have spiritual, intellectual, or physical power acquired saintly status. Thus the purported burial sites of, or places otherwise connected with, stock Islamic saints (Ali, Solomon, etc.), local rulers, learned scholars, warriors, as well as pre-Islamic figures have become shrines. As with the progenitor-ancestor saint, the communities which appropriated these well-known personages often considered them to be exclusively "theirs" even though they may have acknowledged their having a greater significance outside their community. This exclusiveness again was due the saint's purported activity in a certain locale or community and more often than not his role in the founding or sustaining of that community.
Literature on the subject shows that shrine complexes throughout the Islamic world may serve as, especially in rural areas, localized, communally run entities to which other religious institutions such as mosques, etc. are often attached. Pilgrimage to the sites brings with it then an impetus for religious communication and many times social and economic exchange (McChesney 1991). Furthermore, the specific local nature of the site acts to contribute to the creation or at least definition of communal identity and its concomitant boundaries; in Turkmenistan the results of these often ongoing processes may be observed today.
Numerous agents have molded and influenced the development of shrine based religious activity in the Central Asian states of the former USSR. While it is safe to say that Russian colonial and then Soviet rule have been the most foreign and overtly powerful forces to confront Central Asian society, there were and are several important characteristics inherent in the Central Asian, and more specifically, Turkmen tradition that have made shrine pilgrimage in Turkmenistan what it is today.
An initial but enduring characteristic evident in Turkmen shrine activity has been the mark left by the pre-Islamic traditions, including ancestor worship and shamanism mentioned above. While there are other rituals, customs, and traits connected with Turkmen shrines that can be traced back to a host of other pre-Islamic traditions, it is the legacy of ancestor veneration which seems to underlie the most fundamental and critical aspects of the Turkmen tradition. It is also this tradition which provides the most noticeable and perhaps most relevant links with the past.
The Turkmen possess one of the most well-defined tribal structures in Central Asia. While they do claim a mythical ancestor, Oghuz Khan, who serves as the progenitor of the majority of existing Turkmen tribes, Turkmen (tribal) history is replete with intertribal enmity and instances of "non-Turkmen" tribes becoming part of the larger tribal structure. Although the advent of Soviet power did much to mitigate the exclusivity of tribal identity, it continues to manifest itself and be relevant in Turkmenistan, especially in rural areas.
Within the Turkmen tribal structure, there are a number of tribes and groups that do not trace their genealogy back to Oghuz Khan and were labeled by pre-Soviet era (mostly Russian) scholars as "non-Turkmen" tribes.[5] These include tribes and lineages appearing to have their ethnic origins among either ancient local Iranian peoples or Turkic groups believed to pre-date the coming of the Oghuz. The majority of these communities have long inhabited compact areas on the desert fringe either along the Amudarya River or in and along the Kopetdag Mountains.[6] Studies show that these groups have also come down through the centuries as sedentary agriculturists and did not engage in nomadic stock breeding like other more well-known and larger Turkmen tribes.
Another type of "non-Turkmen" lineage group, labeled by Soviet scholars as "holy groups" or "honor groups," are known by the Turkmen designation öwlat or öwlät.[7] Turkmen tradition generally recognizes six öwlat groups in the following order according to perceived holiness and power: Khoja, Seyit, Shïkh, Magtïm, Ata, and Müjewür. All six groups trace their lineage to one of three of the first four caliphs of Islam (and by extension to Prophet Muhammad).[8] To those knowledgeable about general Islamic history, the concept of the sacred lineage (as embodied in the Sayyid and Sharif groups) is a familiar one as such groups are prominent elements in Islamic social and political history. It is apparent, however, that the role and significance of the groups in Turkmen society varied greatly from those of their counterparts in other parts of the Islamic world.
Studies conducted by Soviet ethnographers show that while the accepted and popular reasons for the öwlats' sacred character are their perceived Arab origins and their genealogical links to Muhammad, other less obvious and less cited reasons have to do with more recent processes and events. The research into the groups' genealogical history demonstrates invariably that individual Sufi figures, the majority of whom lived anywhere from the fourteenth to seventeenth century, are noted as links in the groups' genealogical structures (Demidov 1976; Basilov 1975). Perhaps more importantly, it is usually these figures whom researchers consider to be the first in the genealogies to be actual historic personages who lived and were active in areas inhabited by Turkmen. For example, the öwlat group Ata possesses a structure of several lineages, all of which have as their progenitor Gözli Ata (or Hasan Ata), who Demidov (1976) claims lived in the fourteenth century. According to the group's oral history and genealogical documents, Gözli Ata came from the town of Turkistan, a center of Sufi teaching and activity, to western Turkmenistan to settle among the Turkmen and carry on his teachings. Legend portrays Gözli Ata to be an especially powerful saint, outdoing other saints in competitions of miracle performance and thus winning over large numbers of adherents.
It is apparent from this research that öwlat groups have origins traceable to a Sufi founding-father who either converted a community or was integral in giving it a Muslim identity. The fact that these groups consider themselves to be closely tied to sources of holiness and power is interesting in itself, but it is more significant that this sacred character is understood by the members of virtually all other Turkmen tribes. While sources show that some Turkmen tribes and communities did not consider specific öwlat groups or lineages to be "genuine" öwlats, the principle of the öwlat, its sacred origins, and by extension its potential power, were all accepted as fact (although in many cases grudgingly and with resentment) by the other Turkmen tribes.
The role that öwlat groups came to assume in Turkmen society is fairly complex and little is known about their early development. Generally it can be said that all acknowledged öwlat members, be they male or female, adult or child, were shown an extraordinary degree of respect and deference. Non-öwlat members, when addressing individual males from an öwlat (even young boys) would use terms such as ishan aga while females would be addressed using the honorific totam.[9] Furthermore, Turkmen society had the öwlat and non-öwlat as one of its basic divisions into which all Turkmen fell.[10] Öwlat property was inviolable and this proved to be extraordinarily beneficial to the öwlats' economic standing, especially in light of the otherwise hostile environment of raiding and plundering which often characterized Turkmen tribal relations.
Aside from displaying an attitude of deference and adhering to policies of inviolability toward the öwlats, non-öwlat tribes sought to have öwlat members settle among them, or at least in close proximity.[11] Historic patterns of öwlat settlement reflect this with many öwlat groups dispersed throughout all inhabited areas of Turkmenistan. There are also cases of fairly large-scale öwlat migrations, often in conjunction with the movements of non-öwlat tribes who either encouraged or forced öwlat members to move with them. The reasons for this need on the part of non-öwlat Turkmen to have öwlat members close by and accessible were manifold. The inviolable nature of the öwlat and their status as non-tribal Turkmen allowed them, in principle, to act outside and above the realm of Turkmen tribal politics. Thus öwlat members were sought as mediators in disputes occurring both within Turkmen tribes and among them. In fact, it may be argued that the öwlats acted as "buffers" between Turkmen tribes not only due to their physical location between often hostile Turkmen tribes but also through the groups' abilities to mediate and prevent violence.
The importance of the öwlats to Turkmen society was, as may be expected, not limited to such political and economic realms. These were simply outgrowths, albeit perhaps calculated, of other more fundamental and profound qualities inherent to the öwlats. For instance, in many areas inhabited by Turkmen it was considered almost mandatory for öwlat representatives to bless and officiate at festivities, the spring planting and fall harvest, religious gatherings, and life-cycle events. Non-öwlat communities and families would also seek out the advice and council of öwlat elders prior to undertakings such as marriage, the movement from one pasture to the next, and other social and economic ventures. Another important role performed by specific öwlat members was that of spiritual guide and healer. Both pre-revolutionary material and Soviet-era anti-religious literature stress these functions and provide numerous examples; especially accounts of how öwlat members crafted talismans, were seen as possessing the knowledge and power to cure sickness and mental disorder, and could assist in the making and breaking of "spells."
The close relationship between the non-öwlats and öwlat communities has resulted in a some confusion about the öwlats' place among other Turkmen tribes. It is apparent that over time certain öwlat groups have become assimilated into the tribal structure of some non-öwlat tribes. The origins of the assimilation may vary and are difficult to trace; however, there are some non-öwlat tribes that have öwlat clans. For example the Nohurlï tribe of southern Turkmenistan has among its lineage groups two separate Khoja öwlat-clans. Perhaps the most common practice was one where non-öwlat communities came to "adopt," through the relationships noted above, öwlat families and larger communities as their own. It is common to find small öwlat lineage groups interspersed among larger non-öwlat tribes and referred to as being possessed by the larger tribe, i.e. the Teke's öwlat, the Yomut's Khojas, while the term öwlatsïz ("without öwlat") was used (often contemptuously) to refer to communities that did not have an ongoing relationship with öwlat members.
The acknowledged sacred character of the öwlat, while certainly relevant for those living, was just as significant for the community with respect to the deceased. And it is here that the öwlat and the concept of öwlat status play fundamental roles in defining what constitutes a shrine in the Turkmen tradition.
Virtually all Turkmen cemeteries have a gonambashï, a "head of the cemetery," who is to be the first buried and around whom are to be buried all others of the community. Soviet ethnographers tell us that the gonambashï should be a respected figure of the community who possessed some kind of power (intellectual, physical, etc.) or otherwise demonstrated some skill that set him apart from ordinary people. Thus, as generally claimed by Soviet research on the subject, the identity of the gonambashï preserved by local tradition is connected with his being a religious official or figure such as a judge, mulla, or ishan.[12] The belief was that the powers and skills of the gonambashï would continue to serve both the ancestors in the world of the dead and living members of the community.
It should not be surprising then, if communities had as their cemetery's gonambashï an influential öwlat member who had a relationship with that community; in fact, most relevant research either states or implies this practice. In standard Turkmen and in many Turkmen dialects the word for cemetery is gonamchïlïk. Other words cited in dictionaries and used by Soviet specialists in Turkmen religious practice include öwlüyä, mazarlïk, and gabrïstan. It is apparent, however, that there are nuances distinguishing the terms which Soviet linguists and other scholars have never, for some reason, fully elaborated upon, namely the usage of öwlüyä as compared to the other terms. Much of the Soviet-era anti-religious literature in Turkmen, when referring to pilgrimage and shrine activity, uses the words öwlüyä and keramatlï er. The meaning of keramatlï er and what it implies are fairly clear --"miraculous place" or "place where miracles occur"-- and is not confused with other terms. Öwlüyä, on the other hand, as described by informants (and as noted in the literature) may refer to a number of things such as "saint," "burial place of a saint" or "cemetery."[13] The most common usage of the term, however, apparently incorporates all the usages noted above ("saint," "burial place of a saint," "cemetery," and "miraculous place") and refers to the shrine, or burial place, of a holy figure to which one may make a pilgrimage when the need arises and at which miraculous intercession may emanate, occur, or be accessed. Informants noted furthermore that pilgrimages were made only to öwlüyä (or keramatlï er) and not to gonamchïlïk (as females and young children were not permitted to enter gonamchïlïk -- "ordinary" cemeteries). Turkmen knowledgeable about local traditional religious belief also made the further distinction that the saint for which the öwlüyä was/is named was an öwlat member. Thus, when asked the difference between the terms öwlüyä and gonamchïlïk several informants stated outright that a gonamchïlïk was a cemetery having a non-öwlat member as its gonambashï while an öwlüyä was a cemetery having as its gonambashï a member of an öwlat (and therefore a place of pilgrimage). In most cases when I did not inquire specifically as to the distinction between the terms, these differences were at least implied.[14]
It is apparent from my preliminary research that according to Turkmen tradition in at least some areas and among at least some communities the criteria cited in making a burial place (and cemetery) an öwlüyä (and therefore a holy site and place of pilgrimage) consisted in part of the öwlat status of the gonambashï. While this criterion is by no means universal and is not known today to all Turkmen, the fact of its existence is consistent with an apparent trend in the overall development of Islam in Turkmenistan, the öwlats, and what has come to constitute the Turkmen' understanding of holiness and power. In other words, this distinction, like other aspects underpinning the Turkmen concept of the sacred, has not so much been blurred as modified and suggests the localization and "popularization" of the sacred on a large scale. Perhaps then, the once critical öwlat status -- the defining aspect of holiness, which itself grew out of the (still largely unexplored and thus hypothetical) popularization of Sufism[15] (the "mass transferal" of sacred status to a collective genealogical lineage) -- in a sense expanded to encompass a variety of non-öwlat figures to whom öwlat status may or may not have been ascribed. The results of these developments are apparently noticable today and underlie our (as opposed to the Turkmen's) confusion as to what currently constitutes an öwlüyä and distinguishes it from an "ordinary" cemetery.
The Turkmen as Muslims: the Shrine Complex and its Fate in the Soviet Period
Thanks in part to accounts of pre-twentieth century foreign travelers and of more "orthodox" Muslims, the religiosity of Turkmen has long been seen as rather dubious. Soviet specialists, as well as their Western counterparts, have also perpetuated and popularized this notion by portraying the Turkmen as, and indeed accusing them of being, "ignorant, wayward" Muslims, "Muslim only in name," or "half Muslim." The tradition is evident in some of the earliest sources on the Turkmen and their ancestors, the Oghuz, and developed from the pen of Muslim (Arab and Persian) historians and travelers. Indeed, during the time of these early accounts (ca. tenth century) the Oghuz were hostile to the Arab military forces and had only begun to be exposed to Islam. In the tenth century Persian work, the Hudud al-Alam, the author notes the Ghuz (Oghuz) to venerate whatever is "good or wonderful" and to show great deference to healers (Hudud al-Alam: 100). Ibn Fadlan, in notes from his travels, provides a decidedly negative assessment of Oghuz custom and emphasizes their hostility toward Islam (Materialy po istorii turkmen i turkmenii 1939: 159-164). While such accounts were indeed written prior to the Islamization of the Oghuz and concern groups located outside of the boundries of present-day Turkmenistan, later portrayals do nothing but sustain this reputation. For example, the famous ninteenth-century orientalist and traveler Arminius Vambery (1970: 312) offers a succinct synopsis of the Turkmen and their relationship to Islam which has continued to affect and color scholarship to the present day:
"Many usages, which are prohibited to the Islamite, and which the Mollahs make the object of violent attack, exist in all their ancient originality; and the changes effected by Islam, not only amongst the Turkomans, but amongst all the nomads of Middle Asia, were rather confined to the external forms of the religion previously existing. What they before found in the Sun, fire, and other phenomena of nature, they saw now in Allah-Mohammed: the nomad is ever the same, now as two thousand years ago; nor is it possible for any change to take place in him till he exchanges his light tent for a substantial house; in other words, till he has ceased to be a nomad."
Thus, while perceptions concerning the Turkmen's "pseudo-Muslim" character stemmed from an early hostility to Islam on the part of Oghuz tribal leaders, they were sustained by stereotypes connected with the Turkmen's non-urban and non-sedentary traditions -- traditions which have long been seen as inherently un-Islamic by many orientalists and some Muslims alike. The practice of shrine worship and the "shamanism-like" behavior that often accompanied pilgrimage were some of the most visible elements feeding the perceptions, and therefore became commonly cited "evidence" for the perceived infidel underpinnings inherent in Turkmen religious belief and practice. This is especially ironic in light of the fact that Arab historians (Golden 1992: 211-213) link the genesis of the Turkmen as a people (their "breaking off" from those tribesmen who remained known by the name Oghuz/Ghuz) with their willingness to accept Islam (or at least their willingness to follow their leaders who accepted Islam). Thus, in spite of the Turkmen's perceived origins as Muslims and Islam's constant fundamental role in sustaining and regeneration of Turkmen identity, and in spite of their steadfast adherence to and professing of Islam, specialists and observers alike continued to portray the religious practices of the Turkmen as superficially Islamic and the Turkmen themselves as poor examples of Muslims.
Soviet scholarship as well attempted to portray Islam as practiced by the Turkmen as essentially a primitive pre-Islamic tradition dressed over in Islamic garb, and the official attitudes toward and study of holy sites developed within the larger ideological frameworks connected with the policies of forced atheism. Major sites with some historic, or more often, architectural significance were at the very least "sanitized" and turned into state-run tourist sites or museums which, in many cases, were designed to combat religious behavior through atheist enlightenment. Others were effectively shut down due to renovation and restoration. The vast majority of sites, however, experienced a range of fates and depended more on the atheistic fervor or apathy of local government officials. Some were destroyed outright, by bulldozers, communist youth organizations, and so on, while others were declared "off limits" and fenced off with barbed wire. Control over popular sites was tight and it was common for informants to act as visitors and monitor sites by reporting the license plate number of vehicles ferrying pilgrims. Some local governments even tried to ward off visitation by posting signs which alleged that the area was unsanitary and that disease was present. Finally, a percentage was basically ignored by the authorities.
It is apparent from interviews with Turkmen who experienced the last decades of Soviet rule and witnessed anti-religious activity aimed at holy sites, that government policy, or at least the enforcement of policy, was not always uniform and had a variety of effects. For example, sanction upon those engaged in shrine visitation varied according to age and especially job status. Party officials, party members, and members of the state apparatus had the most to lose if found to be engaged in religious behavior deemed detrimental to society. Therefore these people, who were most often middle-aged males, generally refrained from openly visiting holy sites. Others, such as school teachers, members of the local industrial-agricultural management, and others visible in the local community also could be punished. Common sanctions for these people included the loss of one's job or the benefits and perks which came with the position's status. Another more common punishment consisted of the "recanting" of religious beliefs at local komsomol or party meetings. The majority of the population, however, apparently did not suffer a great deal if caught simply visiting shrines. They too might have been forced to renounce their "transgressions" or to attend atheist meetings (a sort of believers anonymous) and while this might have caused some embarrassment the perceived benefits of visitation apparently often outweighed potential sanctions.
The accounts given by shrine visitors during our visits from 1993-1995 speak of a proud tradition of pilgrimage that was persistent in the final decades of the Soviet era. Informants, while perhaps prone to some exaggeration, describe how large numbers of people (especially rural women, farmers and other blue collar workers) visited holy sites under the cover of darkness and during the day. Although they acknowledge the penalties for engaging in such behavior, and while they stress that most pilgrimages were conducted discreetly without fanfare, most informants claim that the strength of the pilgrimage tradition (as both a local/tribal and a national tradition) coupled with the perceived power and protection offered by the saints and holy sites themselves were the main factors in continued visitation. Such people maintain that shrine-based activity was a habitual and important undertaking, critical to both their spiritual and physical well-being. The rather constant attention given to the "evils" of holy sites on the part of Soviet (Turkmen) mass media, Party organizations, anti-religious groups, and academia also point to shrine based activity as part and parcel of many Turkmen's day-to-day lives in both the spiritual and "mundane" realms.
While social status and one's vulnerability to punishment undoubtedly did influence a potential pilgrim's decision to visit or not visit shrines, it was the state's willingness and ability to enforce anti-religious policy that perhaps had the greatest effect on visitation to holy sites. A review of official policy toward religion and interviews with Turkmen provide ample evidence that enforcement of policy and the willingness to punish offenders came in fits and spurts and hinged on a number of often local factors. For example, many Turkmen scholars-workers in the field of what was formerly known as scientific atheism now assert that efforts to eradicate religiosity depended on district (formerly raion, now etrap) officials. While orders and calls to strengthen atheistic upbringing did usually come from the top and such upbringing was an often cited objective in all propaganda, the actual implementation of policy, with a few notable exceptions, was left up to these low level officials. Such officials, more often than not, had been born and raised in the community which they served and usually had strong familial ties with large segments of the community. And although they were educated in Soviet schools and usually were proponents of Party ideals, they also had to contend with the pressures coming out of local tradition and identity which often militated against Soviet ideals and policy. Aside from being part of local tradition, shrines and holy sites were immersed in sensibilities and feelings that Soviet atheistic teachings were never quite able to refute or eradicate. Part of the lore which continues to sustain belief in holy sites emanates from the very nature of their origins -- their being abodes of miraculous power, a power which served to maintain health and well-being and ward off destructive forces. Stories abound of how officials attempting to harm or destroy holy sites met with misfortune -- car accidents, paralysis, untimely death, etc. -- and anti-religious propaganda concerning shrines commonly included such accounts (and their refutations) as a means to unmask the "false nature" of the sites. Undoubtedly, the supernatural aura of the shrines and all that it implied, combined with the pressures stemming from their being rooted in local communal traditions, served to dissuade many officials from displaying more initiative than necessary to combat these religious "survivals of the past."
To claim, however, that Soviet policies toward shrines were somehow benign and that they were often circumvented would not contribute to an accurate portrayal of Soviet-era shrine-based activity or the overall context in which it should be placed. We only have to recall the very successful measures employed by the Soviets to eradicate mosques, madrasas, learned clergy, and a whole host of other critical religious institutions and behavior. This rooting out of Islam had deep and lasting effects on shrine pilgrimage, perhaps the most important of which was the eradication of the sites as local and regional "intellectual centers" of teaching, discussion, and discourse. Aside from the activities associated with pilgrimage itself, it is clear from what we know of the functions and significance of holy sites that shrine complexes of pre-Soviet Central Asia often included mosques and Sufi hostels (khanaqah) and commonly were supported by the well-known Islamic institution of endowment (waqf). The enormous economic, social, and political potential that shrines had in Central Asia has recently been demonstrated by McChesney (1991) and, while primary sources on the waqf and shrines as they existed in pre-Soviet Turkmenistan are scarce, secondary sources and the studies done by Soviet historians and ethnographers provide evidence that the waqf and shrine traditions were similar to those in other parts of Central Asia. From this information it is apparent as well that "Turkmen" shrines had clear links with Sufi activity and in fact served as venues for the transmission of local traditions connected both with Sufism and communal history. While perhaps ignorant of the real significance of shrine pilgrimage and its associated activities, the Soviets were aware of the "threats" posed by mosques and other institutions characterizing "high Islam." Therefore, while sometimes leaving the actual shrines to remain, the Soviets usually physically destroyed accompanying mosques, khanaqahs, and other buildings and persecuted those attending these institutions. With these people then went the knowledge and traditions that so characterized and energized pre-Soviet shrine-based activity.[16]
The anti-religious efforts that were so successful in the years when the Soviets consolidated power in Central Asia (late 1920s-1940s) continued into the final decades of Soviet rule. Aside from the outright destruction of shrines, intense anti-religious ideological campaigns, secular Soviet education, and near criminalization of much religious activity, authorities in Turkmenistan from the 1960s right up to the very end of Soviet power fought against a host of "crimes" closely connected with shrine-based activity. One type of activity consisted of practices and rituals connected with healing, the production of talismans, and other "supernatural" phenomena occurring at shrines with the aid of specific individuals. Anti-religious propaganda and press reports from the 1960s into the 1990s are replete with articles "unmasking" the misdeeds of "charlatan holy men" and "unofficial" mullas who allegedly preyed on "ignorant victims" lacking proper atheistic attitudes and upbringing who came to the shrines in search of aid. Described with terms such as "sorcerers," "witch doctors," and "social parasites," these alleged villains often were members of an öwlat lineage, worked as shrine custodians, and were said to be descendants of saints for whom shrines had been erected. The links between this type of activity and the öwlat tradition described above coupled with activities associated with shrine visitation (the securing of health, prosperity, etc.) are obvious. While it is not clear how many such individuals or percentage of them were caught and punished, the accounts presented in the literature and the stories told by people we met suggest that Soviet power was fairly successful in ridding shrines of their caretaker-holy men through imprisonment and other sanctions.[17] Therefore, while Soviet authorities may not have been successful at persecuting the pilgrims themselves, they did have more success at both eliminating individuals whom segments of the population sought out during pilgrimage and persecuting those who played an important role in the physical maintenance of the shrines and in the preservation and transmission of any formal intellectual tradition that may have existed at the shrine.[18] Therefore, it was the eradication of such individuals which contributed to the damage sustained by the collective memories and other religious traditions of local communities.[19]
As noted, the majority of those attacked in the early Soviet period were recognized Muslim officials or functionaries -- imams, mullas, Sufi leaders and adepts, village elders, öwlat lineage heads, etc. -- those who clearly exercised influence in the community and possessed knowledge passed down in a "formal" manner be it at the home, mosque, madrasa, or khanaqah. In the later Soviet period, after World War Two, the victims of (anti-religious) persecution were the "charlatan healers," "religious parasites," and "self appointed mullas" who in many cases worked at or were closely associated with shrines. Virtually all of these perceived enemies, all of these victims, were men. While the Soviets clearly recognized the influence Central Asian women had in the family and in keeping alive religious traditions, they did not see them as committed instigators diametrically opposed to Soviet rule. In fact, Soviet literature usually portrayed Soviet Muslim women as ignorant and oppressed victims of Islamic traditionalism who would gladly throw off the yoke of Islam when properly educated and confronted with the "freedom" of Sovietization. Therefore the programs and policies directed at women were more subtle and usually did not involve extreme measures. In terms of religious activity especially, women were seen, compared to men, as "small-fry" too numerous and too insignificant to prosecute. Instead, the extensive measures employed by the Soviets -- a universal "Soviet" education system, the efforts to get women out of the home and into jobs, atheist indoctrination, and other acts of Sovietization and modernization -- would, in the eyes of the planners, result in a remolding of the Central Asian woman's consciousness and the eradication of antiquated beliefs and traditions. Because of this treatment and lack of scrutiny, Turkmen women (as well as all Central Asian Muslim women) by default became to a large degree the bearers of numerous Islamic traditions and behavior. In the case of shrine activity today, especially specific aspects associated with actual rituals and veneration, Turkmen women are seen as the chief participants. In fact, many scholars and specialists as well as laymen in Turkmenistan see much of shrine-based activity as a distinctly female realm; only with Turkmenistan's independence and the revival of Turkmen traditions have males become more vocal in acknowledging the legitimacy of the shrine legacy and become more involved in pilgrimage activities.
While Soviet scholarship and propaganda vigorously struggled against shrine-based religious activity and produced volumes of articles, books, and other materials dedicated to its eradication, it is precisely these types of materials which serve as some of the most important sources for the identification and research of holy sites. A number of Soviet specialists made their careers producing such writings and devoted much time, effort, and research to topics connected to holy sites. In the case of Turkmenistan, the most prominent of these is Sergei Demidov who has written several important monographs (Demidov 1976, 1978, 1988) about öwlat groups and holy sites plus many dozens of book and newspaper articles.[20] In his efforts to combat shrine veneration Demidov employed his excellent knowledge of Turkmen language and culture and conducted in-depth research both on-site in villages and at shrines as well as in libraries and archives. His works therefore provide rich ethnographic information and historical background as well as important data as to typologies and the location of holy sites in Turkmenistan.
What is evident from the research of Demidov and other Soviet specialists is that activity connected with holy sites was one of the several fundamental aspects of Islamic practice[21] in Turkmenistan (and Central Asia) in the Soviet period.[22] It's pervasiveness and enduring character evidently were of major concern to Party ideologues and the effort to enlighten believers and eradicate the pilgrimage tradition rivaled that of any other directed against Islamic practice in the post-War years in terms of energy and resources expended.
A survey of existing Soviet sources and results of our field research reveal a typology of holy sites in Turkmenistan with several groups and sub-groups. A first group consists of those sites centered around natural objects or formations: springs, caves, unusual rock formations, trees, etc.[23] Shrines constructed at the believed burial site of personages (saints, martyrs, leaders, etc.) make up another group. A third classification concerns holy sites located at places where important events were to have occurred (the place where a saint prayed, set foot, or rested; the site where a hero died or disappeared, etc.). By no means are these classifications mutually exclusive; in fact, many shrine complexes in Turkmenistan are made up from a combination of types.
Below I will offer several examples of holy sites and shrine complexes that are representative of those in Turkmenistan. All of them were visited by myself (in many cases, with a colleague) in 1993-1995.[24]