In The Common Good, Noam Chomsky said that ‘The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion, but allow very lively debate within that spectrum’ (p.43). Applied to television, this principle still holds widely today, perhaps more than when Chomsky was writing in 1998. Not so, though, in countries such as Turkmenistan, which has only adopted the first half of the maxim in their TV broadcasts. Whether this makes their way less ‘smart’ is presumably shown in how effective it is in engineering a limited ‘spectrum of acceptable opinion’.
Turkmenistan, which borders Afghanistan and Iran, was part of the Soviet Union, and when this collapsed, its government became even more autocratic. The current President, Serdar Berdimuhamedow, succeeded his father in 2022 as the head of the regime. Any opposition to the government is considered to be treason and can be punishable by life imprisonment. Concurrently, the state controls what information its subjects are given, partly to exclude any conflicting viewpoints. Most citizens have no access to the World Wide Web, and instead can only use the Turkmenet, a restricted version of the internet. There is little opportunity for independent journalists: Turkmenistan ranks among the countries with the least ‘freedom of the press’ at 174th out of 180 in Reporters Without Borders’ 2025 World Press Freedom Index. Similarly, television broadcasts are subject to stringent controls, more than in other authoritarian regimes; the range of channels and content available in Afghanistan and Myanmar is very diverse in comparison. All eight channels broadcast in Turkmenistan are run by the state. The main channel is Altyn Asar, which shows news and reports on agriculture and technology, extolling how the country is supposedly constantly improving under the President’s rule, the ‘Golden Age’ referred to by its name. The only news programme – called Watan – broadcasts simultaneously on multiple channels, including Türkmen Owazy, dedicated to music and Ýaşlyk (‘Youth’ in English), an entertainment channel, with dramas and comedies missing from the schedules. Foreign content and influences are not allowed, although the game show Ondan Bir has taken the format of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, with the twist that the winner isn’t shown receiving a prize.
Commodities such as rugs, stationery and jewellery are displayed in reports about well-stocked market stalls or even during music performances. This isn’t as ‘product placement’ to advertise them, though; what’s being promoted is the nation as bountiful and industrious. The same motivation is behind the footage of the capital city, which presents Ashgabat as slick and brightly lit, with crisp skyscrapers, fountains, statues and arches in white and gold, streamlined streets for cars to glide along, and no litter or graffiti. Few people are seen outside unless they’re participating in dance routines or military parades, both tightly choreographed and polished. Music is especially prominent across the channels, from power ballads to jingoistic anthems to folk music, although some suspiciously looks dubbed. Particularly striking is an up-tempo song performed by women in camouflage skirts in front of weaponry.
The channels are mouthpieces of the state, intended to promote its preferred vision of the nation to the populace. The meticulously-arranged performances and pristine buildings are supposed to reflect a meticulously-arranged and pristine nation.
While the propaganda is obvious, an indicator of this is that smiles are rarely seen. Most people on the parades or in game shows or recitals, and notably their audiences too, have a flat expression. They don’t smile because they live in fear and have very little to smile about, according to Joshua Perry Parker in his video on YouTube: TV in Turkmenistan is Insane. When the state machine is as oppressive as in Turkmenistan, being an ‘appendage to the machine’ makes people behave in machine-like ways. Those in the marches or music performances look dehumanised, not just in how they run through their routines but also by their starchy uniforms. Even the traditional national dress, which is colourful and decoratively-patterned, manages to look hollow in the context of the programmes. Homogeneity is plainly presented as a virtue. Minority groups are unseen on TV and also face persecution, with gay relationships between men being illegal, for example. Workers living their lives, whether in the city or beyond, are never shown. Rural areas are only represented as backdrops to music videos or as abundant fields of wheat or cotton.
It’s hard to gauge how successful Turkmenistan’s TV output is with shaping mindsets or limiting the ‘spectrum of acceptable opinion’; its viewers don’t have the opportunity to give feedback. The content is supposed to instil a sense of pride and loyalty towards the country, whether through news reports announcing a fleet of tractors or through the frequent songs and music. The emphasis on culture demonstrates that patriotism is the preferred angle used by the state, although nationalism is also pushed through the military displays. The social conservatism exhorted by the state isn’t as directly expressed on TV, as it doesn’t feature many social situations, although the regimented people who are allowed in front of the cameras reflect the repressive norms. While the TV in Turkmenistan shows us little about the lives of those struggling there, it shows us a lot about the approach of the country’s rulers. The class divide is depressingly stark, with the President as the figurehead of a wealthy capitalist class, outnumbered by the poorer vast majority who rely on what their wages can afford. The broadcasts try to disguise this divide by only presenting what the capitalist class wants to be seen. Any indoctrination is probably less successful outside the main city of Ashgabat, where workers can see clearer that their reality doesn’t match that portrayed on screen. Also, those living in rural areas often pick up satellite channels from Russia, Turkey and Uzbekistan, opening them up to other forms of propaganda.
Mike Foster
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