Where Have All the Jews Gone? Mass Migration from Independent Uzbekistan · 209
are narrow, winding, and mostly unpaved, and the homes are made of
mud and brick. These urban structures, which may appear shabby and
even “horrid” to the Western eye, are in fact resilient, vernacular forms.
The streets were designed for foot traffic, and their layout reflects the
neighborhoods’ organic growth. The homes were made from indigenous,
natural materials, which keep the interior spaces cool in the hot summers
and warm in the winters.
While some of the homes in these residential quarters do not have
indoor bathrooms, and hot water is not always available, most do have
electricity, phone lines, and running water. Most significantly, in assess-
ing the standard of living, it is critical to note that from the street, any
casual visitor would see only the homes’ tall, blank walls and iron gates.
But when these gates are thrown open, an invited visitor would see that
the homes in which Bukharan Jews lived (like those of their Muslim
neighbors) were multi-unit structures built around courtyards. In the
days before the Jews’ great migration, grandparents, their sons, daugh-
ters-in-law, and grandchildren dwelled together in these homes. Each
nuclear family lived in its own single unit, and together they shared the
courtyard space, which was used through much of the year as a place
for cooking, eating, and relaxing. The courtyard
was also used for enter-
taining large groups of friends and relatives during weddings, memorial
services, and other family events.
When people thought about immigrating, one of the major issues
taken into consideration was that they would be leaving these spacious
living conditions for cramped apartments. Indeed, it was not uncommon
for extended families, which lived in multi-unit homes in Uzbekistan,
to move into a single apartment when they first arrived in Israel or the
United States. This not only meant severely cramped living conditions
but also the loss of large, private outdoor space, which had been so inte-
gral to family life in Uzbekistan. Given this set of circumstances, it is clear
why so many of the people whom I visited in Uzbekistan showed me
around their homes—which many Westerners might call “ramshackle”—
and say, “Why should we move? We have everything we need here.”
Despite this strong feeling of self-sufficiency, people also had a sense
that it was impossible to plan for a financial future in Uzbekistan. During
the first few years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Uzbekistan’s
currency changed three times, totally devaluing people’s assets. Berta, for
example, told me that a year after she and her husband deposited money
210 · Alanna E.
Cooper
from the sale of their car in the bank, that sum could not even buy them
a shirt. Financial instability also manifested itself in severe faults with
social welfare systems including health insurance, unemployment, and
social security. Corruption in the university system was rampant, where
grossly underpaid professors would regularly accept bribes from stu-
dents in exchange for good grades. Public culture also suffered a decline.
Explaining why she was encouraging her nineteen-year-old son, Misha,
to move to Israel, Nina noted, “There used to be things for the kids to do
here. Now they have nowhere to go. There are no movies and no cafes
open.”
In short, a feeling of economic chaos prevailed in the post-Soviet era,
along with the sense that there was no one accountable for keeping the
instability in check. One man aptly summarized this sensibility: “During
the Soviet period, we knew what the laws were. We believed in the head
of government, even though he was in Moscow. Now we no longer feel
sure of ourselves or strong.” Nevertheless, in deciding to move to the
United States or to Israel, people did not feel they were leaving behind
this financial insecurity. Indeed, they constantly weighed the chaotic eco-
nomic situation in Uzbekistan, with the total sense of helplessness they
feared they would experience upon migration with the prospects of not
being able to learn the language, find a job, negotiate the system, or buy
a house. While people were quite aware that salaries were many times
higher in Israel and the United States than they were in Uzbekistan, they
were also staggered by the reports of the cost of living there. And for
those who had food, a house, and the cultural knowledge to negotiate
Uzbekistan’s bureaucracy (even if it was in a state of flux), the fear that
they would not be able to make a living upon immigration was palpable.
Social
Position
Press reports that focus on the Jews’ fear of rising nationalism and Mus-
lim fundamentalism depict them as occupying a marginal, stigmatized
position in the wider society in which they lived. In fact, Bukharan Jews
occupied a complex social place. Throughout their long history in the
region, they were both outsiders, in that they were marked and perceived
themselves as a minority, but they were also “Central Asians,” who
strongly identified with the other local ethnic groups. Both these senti-
Where Have All the Jews Gone? Mass Migration from Independent Uzbekistan · 211
ments—that of feeling marginalized and that of feeling at home—were
weighed when making decisions about whether or not to emigrate.
Their sense of marginalization stemmed both from the feeling of be-
ing outside of the nationalist project and from the feeling of being on
the weaker side of tense Muslim-Jewish relations. Members of the older
generation carried the collective historical memory of the humiliation
to which the Jews were subjected prior to the arrival of the Russians in
the region in the late nineteenth century. Never
specifically invoking the
term
dhimmi, people did cite specific examples of subjugation, such as
being forbidden to ride on a horse and having to build low doorways,
which would force everyone to crouch upon entry. One elderly man
spoke about the Jews’ support for Russian colonial efforts, because they
forbade the Muslim rulers to persecute the Jews. Another quoted a great-
grandfather who was said to have often exclaimed, “I finally began to
live when the Russians arrived.” However, even among these elderly
people, this era of Jewish persecution under Muslim rule was portrayed
as a distant past. Although the Soviet Union had dissolved and Uzbeki-
stan had become independent of Russian rule, I never heard anyone sug-
gest that this era might return. By the time I arrived in 1993, it seemed
clear that President Karimov—who had been the republic’s Communist
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