Latest / The Story of Uzbekistan: Silk Road Kingdoms and Soviet Legacy — Fexingo History / The Tashkent Metro: Soviet Underground Palaces
Transcript
- Lucas: You know how we've talked about Tashkent a few times — the earthquake, the rebuilding, the metro. But I don't think we've ever just walked into the metro itself and looked at the walls. Luna: I've seen photos — those stations look more like palaces than subway stops. Lucas: They really do. And it's no accident. The Tashkent Metro opened in 1977, but its story really starts with the 1966 earthquake. That disaster leveled much of the old city, and the Soviet government poured resources into rebuilding Tashkent as a model Soviet city. Part of that was a modern metro system — one that would show off the best of Soviet engineering and art. Luna: So it was propaganda, but also genuine public works. Lucas: Exactly. And the timing is important — this was the Brezhnev era, the height of Soviet stagnation, but also a time when the regime still invested in grand projects. The metro was built by workers from all over the USSR, and each station was designed by different architects from Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, and Tashkent itself. They used local marble, granite, and ceramics, but the themes were universal Soviet ones — space, labor, friendship of peoples. Luna: I read that the first line ran from the center to the south, the Chilonzor line, and it opened just in time for the 60th anniversary of the October Revolution. Lucas: That's right. November 1977. The Chilonzor line had nine stations, and each one was a little different. Take Kosmonavtlar — that means 'Cosmonauts' — and it's decked out with blue and white mosaics of Yuri Gagarin, Valentina Tereshkova, and other Soviet space heroes. There's even a mosaic showing a dog, an homage to Laika. It feels like walking through a science museum. Luna: And Pakhtakor — that's 'cotton farmer' — is all about agriculture. Lucas: Right. Pakhtakor station has these beautiful ceramic panels depicting cotton picking and harvesting, with women in traditional Uzbek dresses. It's very socialist realism, but executed with real craftsmanship. Then you have stations like Navoi, named after the poet Alisher Navoi, which has panels illustrating his epic works. The metro was also a place where Uzbek identity could subtly assert itself within Soviet frames. Luna: I think that's something we should talk about — how the metro managed to be both Soviet and Uzbek. Luna: Absolutely. It's a small way to keep this kind of deep dive going. So back to the metro — after independence in 1991, what changed? Lucas: Good question. The stations started getting makeovers. For instance, the station originally called Lenin Square is now Mustaqillik Maydoni — Independence Square. They removed the giant Lenin statue and replaced Soviet symbolism with national motifs. At Kosmonavtlar, they added a bust of the first Uzbek cosmonaut — you know who that is? Luna: Vladimir Dzhanibekov? Or was it Salizhan Sharipov? Lucas: Actually, the first Uzbek cosmonaut was a man named Saidmurod Davlatov — no, wait, I'm mixing it up. The first Uzbek in space was actually Vladimir Dzhanibekov, but he was ethnically Russian. The first ethnic Uzbek to fly was Salizhan Sharipov, in 1998, well after the metro opened. But at Kosmonavtlar they added a plaque for Oleg Kononenko, who is from Turkmenistan but trained in Tashkent? It gets complicated. The point is, the metro evolved. Luna: And it's still evolving. They opened new stations in 2020 on the Ring Line. Lucas: That's right. The metro has grown from the original nine stations to over 40 now. And it's still a source of pride. One thing many people don't know: until recently, photography was banned inside the Tashkent Metro. The official reason was security — it could be a military target — but it also gave the stations a mysterious aura. Tourists had to sneak photos. Only in 2018 did they lift the ban. Luna: That explains why there aren't as many old photos floating around. So what's your favorite station? Lucas: I have a soft spot for Alisher Navoi. It's not the flashiest, but the mosaics show scenes from his Khamsa epic — the lovers Layli and Majnun, the story of Alexander the Great. It's a nod to Uzbek literary heritage without being overtly nationalist. Also the chandeliers are incredible. But for sheer spectacle, Kosmonavtlar is hard to beat. It really does feel like you're in a starship. And you? Luna: I think I'd pick Pakhtakor. Not just for the art, but because it's so tied to the cotton economy we've talked about. It's a reminder that the metro wasn't just for show — it connected the cotton workers' neighborhoods to the city center. That's real history. Lucas: Exactly. And that's what makes the Tashkent Metro a perfect lens for understanding Soviet Uzbekistan: the grand ambitions, the blend of cultures, the eventual reclamation of national identity. It's a concrete example of how the Soviet Union tried to build a new world, and how that world later found its own voice. Luna: And it's still under your feet if you're in Tashkent today.