Welcome to the third World Nomad Games. On the northern shores of Issyk Kul, just outside of the small city of Cholpon-Ata, Kyrgyzstan, more than 1,920 athletes from 74 countries gathered to compete in a variety of games that harken back to a shared and glorified past of the nomadic peoples of Eurasia.
The World Nomad Games, first held in 2014 in Kyrgyzstan, seek to reestablish the cultural link between historic nomadic traditions and the modern identity of Turkic and post-Soviet states. The 2018 event showcased 37 different competitions, including the famous kok-boru. Kok-boru, now a steady provider of gold medals for Kyrgyzstan, was traditionally a competition intended to prepare young men for the trials of battle. Kok-boru is played on horseback in which the objective is to move the body of a goat into a corresponding raised goal. It requires strength and balance, as well as the ability to control the horse as the rider scoops the goat off the dirt pitch. Imagine a rougher version of polo.
Opening and closing with massive ceremonies of more than 1,500 singers, dancers, and actors, the games welcomed tens of thousands of spectators and numerous heads of state. The arena sat opposite a colorful backdrop that represented the mountains of Kyrgyzstan and backed up against the deep jewel blue of the world’s second largest saline lake. While there was a wide variety of participants from around the world, most of the tournament’s serious competitors were nomadic Turkic peoples from Eurasia, Eastern Europe, and Anatolia. The next games are set to be held in Turkey next year.
The games have received relatively little coverage by Western media outlets. What did get reported was either a short summary of official details, such as those offered by U.S. government-sponsored Radio Liberty, or a feature piece such as the one run in the New York Times (“Horse Wrestling. Bone Tossing. Dead Goat Polo. Let the Nomad Games Begin.”) The New York Times article was less cringe-worthy than its title suggests, but nonetheless portrayed an idyllic image of nomadic traditions bound to titillate for the upper-middle-class cultural voyeur. However, neither type of reporting discussed the significance of the World Nomad Games in the context of the political and social milieu of present-day Central Asia.
The World Nomad Games, at least those held in Kyrgyzstan, take place in a region of the world where states and their identities are actively being crafted, influenced, and challenged both from within and from abroad. The traditions celebrated here are traditions that were discouraged, if not outright repressed, during the seven decades of Soviet rule.
Like the Olympics and the World Cup, the games cannot and do not exist outside of the political sphere. There is often more at stake in a match than the first-place medal. In some cases, this is recognition—a wrestler requesting to be introduced as an athlete from the Altai Republic of the Russian Federation or another with Bashkortostan written in blue Cyrillic on the back of his white jacket. At other times, the games are a display of patriotism and nationalism, and a test of superior skills between nations whose old conflicts have not been entirely resolved.
Outside of the platform they provide for confronting issues of ethnic minority rights, recognition, and border disputes, the games reflected the inescapable influences of the outside world that grow ever more prevalent as that world grows more connected.
It was at the games that I first saw a pan-Turkic flag, an image of a unification movement that defies current state structures and traditional colonial powers. Pan-Turkism, encouraged by Turkey and its allies, has gained traction in Central Asia since gaining independence. However, the influence of Turkey was far from the only tangible evidence of outside interests. The games were sponsored by Gazprom, a Russian natural gas giant with ties to the Kremlin and whose name figured prominently on the indoor sports complex. USAID sponsored multiple programs during the week-long tournament, and multiple infrastructure projects that made the games possible would have been extremely fiscally difficult for Kyrgyzstan without Chinese aid.
A ticket to the World Nomad Games is an opportunity to immerse oneself in the culture and traditions of Eurasia. It’s a chance to practice Russian with the Kyrgyz gentleman in the next seat. It’s a moment to enjoy a shot of vodka with the guest-house owner before heading to the arena for the kok-boru final. It’s an occasion to dance with near strangers to musicians from Kazakhstan, from Yakutia, and from Tajikistan.
But it’s also an opportunity to take stock of who-all is making the most of their respective opportunity. Humanitarian groups, political movements, businesses, and yes, formalized states are all vying for the attention of viewers everywhere. The rules, if so strong a word can be used, are neither collectively recognized, nor accepted with equal willingness. The days of relative peace in which to grapple with domestic struggles are lost to those states that came to be in the era of the 24-hour news cycle. Kyrgyzstan and its siblings, situated in a region deemed strategic by multiple world powers, represent the perfect place to play a strong hand.
There are many games being played in Central Asia. Not all of them are as straightforward as kok-boru.