Chapter Five - Turkmenistan

CHAPTER FIVE

Turkmenistan

THE ABSURDITY ENGINE

Most dictatorships rule through fear.
Turkmenistan rules through delusion.

Imagine if Willy Wonka was a warlord, and the whole country had to pretend he was a genius. That’s Turkmenistan. A regime so bizarre, so theatrical, so deeply insecure, that it bans dogs near the capital’s palace and builds golden statues of its leaders… riding horses… holding books they wrote themselves.

And if you don’t clap?
You disappear.

When the Soviet Union collapsed, the republics split off.
Most tried to build democracies.
Turkmenistan built a personality cult.

Enter Saparmurat Niyazov, also known as Turkmenbashi, “Leader of All Turkmen.” He renamed January after himself, banned ballet, banned car radios, banned long hair on men, and made his own book of wisdom, the Ruhnama, mandatory reading in every school, mosque, and test center.

You didn’t study math.
You studied him.

When he died, people hoped for change.
What they got was a sequel.

Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov, dentist turned dictator, took power in 2006 and immediately started competing with his predecessor in crazy points.

He wrote his own books.
Built even bigger golden statues.
Shot guns on horseback for TV.
Dropped music videos about horses (yes really.)
Hosted bizarre workout parades where thousands marched in sync behind his image.

State TV is just one long highlight reel of him being cool, like North Korea: MTV Edition.

You don’t need a long list of what’s banned. You just need to know this:

Whatever makes you happy, expressive, or connected to the outside world?
Probably banned.

Opera.
Lip-syncing.
Long beards.
Western music.
Dogs in Ashgabat (the capital).
Video games.
Independent internet.
Criticism of any kind.

There are no independent journalists. No opposition. No real internet. No dissent. Just a whole country pretending this is normal.

See, it’s not just about power. It’s about compliance through confusion.

If your leader builds a 200-foot statue of himself that rotates to face the sun, and everyone claps like that’s sane… you’ve erased truth.
You’ve made people question their own reality.

That’s the point.
The absurdity is the control.

Because if you’ll believe this, you’ll believe anything.

So you smile.
You memorize the books.
You name your child after the president’s horse.
And you live in silence, inside a cartoon drawn by a man with absolute power and no sense of irony.