ASTANA — Every year on June 28, Kazakhstan marks the Day of Media Workers. The date commemorates the adoption of the country’s first Law on the Press and Other Mass Media in 1991, just months before Kazakhstan declared its independence. It is a fitting coincidence.
Because the story of Kazakh journalism and the story of independent Kazakhstan have, in many ways, unfolded side by side. Aida Haidar. Photo credit: personal archive Over the years, journalism has taken me farther than I could have imagined. I have spoken with presidents, ministers, diplomats, futurists, entrepreneurs and billionaires.
I have sat across from people shaping global conversations about technology, economics and politics. Yet some of the most memorable conversations happened far from conference halls and official meetings: in small villages near the Aral Sea, with teachers, fishermen, and ordinary families trying to build a future under difficult circumstances.
Those encounters taught me something important. Journalism is often perceived as a profession about events, institutions and power. In reality, it is a profession about people. The more stories you hear, the more you realize that statistics, policies and headlines only make sense when viewed through the lives of those they ultimately affect.
Thirty-five years may seem like a long time. Kazakhstan is internationally recognized, economically significant, and politically established. Yet in historical terms, ours remains a remarkably young state. Most of our population was born after independence. Many of today’s journalists have never known another Kazakhstan.
We grew up together. Perhaps that is why journalism here has always occupied a unique place. In mature democracies, the relationship between media and the state is often viewed through the lens of confrontation. In young states, the reality is more nuanced. Institutions are still evolving.
Society is still defining itself. National identity continues to take shape. In this process, journalists often become something more than observers. They become translators. They help citizens understand government decisions, while helping the government understand citizens’ concerns, frustrations and aspirations.
They connect worlds that too often speak different languages, even when they use the same words. That role requires objectivity. But it also requires something less frequently discussed: a genuine commitment to the country itself. Not to a political party. Not to an individual official.
Not even to a particular moment in history. To the country. To the belief that Kazakhstan can become stronger, more prosperous and more confident in its place in the world. Over the years, Kazakh journalism has gone through many stages. For a long time, we looked outward, seeking models, narratives and validation elsewhere.
Today, I increasingly sense a shift. A generation of journalists has emerged that was raised in an independent Kazakhstan. They enter international forums, cover global events, interview world leaders and report from foreign capitals not as observers from the periphery but as professionals carrying their own perspectives and representing their own countries.