Javohir Akramov

You see similar dynamics in Arabia, where until the 1920s, people primarily identified as Ottoman or Arab or based on the their residence, not as Lebanese, Qatari, Saudi, or Jordanian. Nationalism doesn’t arise in a vacuum; it’s often a response to foreign influence or power. Zionism rose in response to European anti-Semitism, and the Palestinian national movement partly rose in response to the influx of Zionists and Jews between the 1880s and 1920s. American nationalism likely emerged in response to British control. Americans are an imagined community themselves—the true “Americans” are the indigenous populations, who were largely displaced by European settlers (who likely never thought of themselves as “American” in the beginning). Ironically, the term “American” comes from a European, Amerigo Vespucci.

Welcome to my TED Talk (or a daily rant, to be precise).

@javohirakramov

This is controversial. If you ain't open-minded, disregard this post.

Some of my classmates from North Africa despise French because of colonial history. Should I feel the same way about Russian? I grew up speaking Russian, listening to Russian songs, reading Russian books—I spent the first 14 or 15 years of my life in a Russian-speaking environment.

Putting the war in Ukraine aside, I feel we should separate culture from politics when thinking about Russian culture. It sometimes frustrates me when Ukrainians get offended if a Russian song is played. I try to understand and relate to their perspective, but at the same time, language and culture are distinct from politics. Putin’s war machine is quite different from the general sentiment of Russians or from their artistic culture. Some Russians may not openly speak out against the war because they fear for their lives, social status, or the well-being of their families. For many Russians who struggle just to make a living, politics is a low priority. Yes, people are inherently political, but when your stomach is empty, and your home is cold, who has time for politics?

I am fully aware of the Russian Empire’s legacy in my country, but Uzbek conquerors also left legacies in other countries. Yes, the chronology differs, but the emirs who ruled before the Russian conquest in the 19th century committed their own share of atrocities and made life difficult for ordinary people.

I am not remotely Russian, yet Russian has become part of my identity, whether I like it or not. Listening to Russian songs makes me feel good; I enjoy reading Russian literature and consuming Russian content online. No matter how much I disagree with Russian politics or its history of imperialism, I still feel sympathy for Russian culture and language.

Even the Uzbek language today is written in Latin letters, which are far from our "traditional culture." In fact, it was Kemal Atatürk who first adopted the Latin script, replacing Arabic script in Turkey as part of his Westernization efforts. We can’t claim the Latin alphabet as ours either. The legacy of Navoi, which we take pride in, was written in Arabic script, not Latin. So, in this sense, using Cyrillic, Latin, or Arabic scripts doesn’t necessarily define authenticity—they are all, in a way, foreign. Arabic script also came through conquest, though perhaps differently than Russian influence.

What is identity anyway? Isn’t it just a collection of “lego pieces” that came together for various reasons to form what we call identity? What is an Uzbek identity? Which parts of it are truly “Uzbek,” and which are borrowed? How do we define what’s “ours” versus “foreign” when so much of “our” culture and identity consists of foreign influences or adaptations? Does it even make sense to focus so heavily on Uzbek culture when it has evolved as a mixture of influences from other cultures?

Cultural and national identities are fluid. Yes, ethnic groups in Central Asia had distinct linguistic and cultural identities before Soviet rule, though modern “national” identities were influenced by Soviet classification. A 19th-century resident of Kokand likely didn’t think of himself as “Uzbek” but rather as a subject of the Kokand Khanate. When did we start thinking that Uzbeks are so different from other people that we should be seen as a distinct nation from Turkmen or Tajiks? Uzbeks vary greatly across regions. There are Tajiks who look Uzbek, Turkmen who look Uzbek, and vice versa. Ethnicity might be a concept, but it’s still questionable. Physical features might be shaped more by geography and environment than by what labels people assign. I am in no means saying not to identify oneself as a particular nation, but rather don't think of nations as very different, irreconcilable.

@javohirakramov

My own private basic income - Karl Widerquist.

The most common objection to basic income is that it’s supposedly wrong to give things to people who don’t work for it, when actually, the economy already gives billions of dollars of unearned income to people who are already wealthy.’ I have a private basic income – a small, regular cash income without means test or work requirement. It’s probably large enough to meet my basic needs. And I got it thanks to privilege, nepotism, and two big lucky breaks. My first big lucky break happened in 2009 when Georgetown University hired me as a philosophy professor on their campus in Qatar. Georgetown-Qatar, funded entirely by the Qatar government, has to pay an enormous premium to get faculty to agree to live and work in Qatar. I get paid three times as much as my wife. I teach half as many classes. She’s a full professor. I’m only an associate. Qatar can pay more than US universities because of its own series of lucky breaks that put it in control of enormously valuable resources. Its position today comes largely from decisions made about a century ago, as the Ottoman Empire was breaking up. Britain and France arbitrarily drew lines on the map to create what became the states of the Middle East. Those lines eventually gave some of those states enormous amounts of oil and gas and left others desperately poor. The joy of options I ‘earn’ my salary by doing a job few others are both willing and able to do. To some extent wages compensate for other disadvantages of the job. But this equalisation is only partial and, more importantly, it only occurs among people with similar options. I had better options than most people in the world. My white, American upper-middle class privilege gave me the opportunity to get the qualifications and the flexibility to take this job. For every highly paid professional ‘expat’ in Qatar like me there are maybe eight or ten extra-low paid ‘migrant labourers’, some of whom make as little as $200 a month. They live in dorms for years at a time, separated from their families. They are unfree to quit or to change employers. They are unfree to leave the country without their employers’ permission. I see these workers often. They clean the toilets at my university.

PS. Karl is him.

@javohirakramov

Macro and Micro View of the World

Classes at Georgetown mostly provide me with a big-picture view of the world. Whether it’s International Relations, Middle East II, or International Finance, all of them focus on what happens on a macro level. We examine how different actors—such as governments, non-government entities, NGOs, and large corporations—engage with each other in the political arena. We study why entire governments, countries, and millions of people collectively act together. Most IR theories focus on how entire states and multinational organizations perceive the world, act within it, and make decisions.

In Middle East II, we study how colonial powers dealt with their colonies, how they made decisions, and how they determined the fates of entire countries, tribes, and nations based on their own subjective assumptions. You don’t really think about what a particular event or decision meant for a single individual. Most of the time, you’re concerned with how a certain event or decision affects communities collectively.

Learning about these matters evokes mixed feelings. On the one hand, you learn about so many atrocities committed in the past that are often neglected and not discussed enough today—such as the Armenian Genocide, the Syrian Famine, and the deaths in World War I. It makes you despise the decision-makers, and the people you once considered heroes—like Churchill and Abdulhamid II—suddenly become disturbing figures, as they were the architects of horrific decisions and policies that destroyed the lives of thousands.

Yet, as you are exposed more and more to these types of events, you start to lose sight of what they meant for individuals—for a farmer in the Nile Delta, a single mother in the Hijaz, or a Maronite Christian child in Mount Lebanon. Their names are rarely recorded. No one remembers them; no one knows their stories, how they lived, or what they did with their lives. Unless you were a ruler or an influential person in society, your story doesn’t get told. That’s just how history works.

We only know what has been recorded and passed down to us. No one knows about a remote military officer who fought for the Ottoman Empire—however just or unjust it was—against the French. You won’t hear about the story of an Armenian family who died of exhaustion and malnutrition in the Syrian desert on their way to literal camps.

Sometimes, this focus removes the human aspect. You think of history in terms of important dates, tribes, states, royal families, and rulers rather than ordinary people. The life of a single person, or even the lives of hundreds of people, doesn’t seem to matter anymore because, in the grand scheme of things, they don’t matter—or so it seems.

However, those states consist of hundreds of individuals. Those armies are made up of these “atomic” levels. It is individual decisions that make collective efforts and outcomes possible. The feelings, character, and personal traits of a single person can be the driver of historical events. Think about the Sykes-Picot Agreement, made by Mark Sykes and François Georges-Picot. They could have been drunk or high when they drew the borders that divided the Middle East into separate countries. The lines they drew during one evening of collaboration determined where large numbers of people would live. They might have divided families, tribes, and communities.

It is individual decisions that result in communal outcomes. I am grateful that I am constantly reminded to not get caught up in the big picture and think about the importance of individuals—the role they played in history. The character, personality, and mood of individuals can affect certain events that shaped history.

@javohirakramov

100% is a Breeze and 99% is a B!tch **direct quote

It is disproportionately easier to commit to something 100% than to commit to something 99%. The difference is just 1%, but it can be the difference between success and failure. But why?

When you’re not 100% committed, you leave room for negotiation with yourself. There’s always space for an exception, an excuse. You find yourself thinking, “Skipping one day won’t hurt,” or “Doing it just this once won’t hurt.” That 1% gap leads to doubt, procrastination, inconsistency, and eventually, giving up.

At 99%, you’re constantly faced with a dilemma because every next action could be the 1% you allow yourself to skip. This constant mental tug-of-war between doing it or not doing it is draining.

100% is much easier to stick to. There’s no room for negotiation, doubt, or hesitation. You’re all in. You don’t have to make a conscious choice every time, saving yourself from decision fatigue. Being 100% committed makes things flow.

That 1% is disproportionately annoying and hard. At 100%, you leave no room for excuses. At 99%, excuses are always an option. The mental burden of making a choice disappears when you’re fully committed.

99% sounds almost perfect, but in reality, you’re always on the fence—half in, half out. Indecision drains much more energy than fully committing.

Why does 100% work?

Because 100% brings consistency: you show up every day, no matter what, which creates momentum and builds results. Because 100% brings clarity: you stop overthinking and simply act, and that action keeps pushing you forward. Because 100% brings freedom from guilt: at 99%, you constantly question whether you’re doing enough, but at 100%, you know you are.

Where does the 100% rule apply?

EVERYWHERE. Whether it’s fitness, a hobby, work, or relationships, 100% commitment is always better than 99%. Leave no room for excuses. Commit to your goal 100%.

“But Javohir, striving for perfection will lead to failure because we can’t be perfect, we’re human, bla bla bla…”

I’m glad you asked. The point I’m making isn’t about being perfect or never making mistakes—it’s about committing 100%. Yes, life happens. You might miss a workout, or something unexpected might disrupt your plans. But 100% commitment is about mindset, not flawless execution.

When you’re 100% committed, even if you slip up, you get back on track without hesitation. The difference between 99% and 100% isn’t about avoiding every misstep; it’s about removing doubt and excuses. With 100% commitment, setbacks don’t define you because you’re still fully invested. You’ll keep pushing forward the next day.

@javohirakramov

Why do we assign positive meaning to "values?"

When someone says that guy or girl has his or her own values, we tend to think of it as something positive. Someone who has strong values and follows them is respected. But are values always positive?

In a nutshell, a "value" is principle or standard of someone's behaviour. Alternatively, it is something of importance, worth, or usefullness. But the value I am talking about fits the first description.

What we don't think of frequently is the fact that values can be positive and negative. Someone's value might be hatred towards a certain ethnicity or nation. Someone's life values might be robbery, deception, and murder. Just reminding you to be mindful when you think about a person's values next time)

@javohirakramov

When my classmates from Algeria, Morocco, Sudan, Egypt, and other countries in Africa would talk with rage about colonialism, I simply couldn’t understand why they were so angry about the past.

I used to think, "Those things happened 50-60 years ago, get over it." However, now that I am going deeper into the horrific history and legacy of colonialism, I am beginning to understand why they feel this way.

Perhaps if I do a proper deep dive into Imperial Russia’s conquest of Central Asia, I will feel the same way. I hope to elaborate on this more when the time comes.

@javohirakramov

Why there are six kingdoms in the Gulf?

“Once again, their main motivation was to protect the route to India by suppressing piracy and by establishing special relationships with local rulers that would bind them to Britain. To this end, the British selected a tribal leader from among the prominent families of a given territory to establish a ruling dynasty. The fortunate leaders were more than happy to oblige the British, who demanded little in return but loyalty. Thus, the British invented royal houses that still rule Kuwait, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates. The British also recognized the rulers of Bahrain, which they made a protectorate, and Oman, which they did not.

If anyone were to wonder why there are so many kingdoms in the Gulf—six to be exact—it is not because of oil, tradition, or because Arabs naturally follow patriarchal leaders. It is because British imperialism created them, and the British (and later the Americans) guaranteed their sovereignty.”

©️ Gelvin, The Modern Middle East

@javohirakramov