In nowadays Kazakhstan, a strange state of things arises regarding how one should assess the situation in which Kazakh, as a state language, finds itself. On the one hand, it is claimed that its attractiveness and competitiveness are rapidly increasing, that speaking it is becoming ‘fashionable’ and relevant among young people, and that proficiency in it is becoming an indispensable factor in the professional growth and personal success of citizens. According to President Tokayev,  “all this clearly demonstrates the effectiveness of state policy in this very sensitive and politically important area”. 

On the other hand, the observers has expressed and continues to express the opinion that modern Kazakh is less in demand and in a position significantly worse than even during the Soviet era, when the percentage of ethnic Kazakh population in the republic was half its current level, the country lacked full state independence, and Kazakh did not enjoy the status of a state language. On one point, however, clarification is needed here. Kazakh was designated a state language in 1989, just two years before the collapse of the USSR. What is the explanation for this apparent contradiction?

The problem with Kazakhstan’s State language seems to lie not only in the fact that almost all the official or socioeconomic information is translated from Russian into Kazakh. It also appears to stem from the insufficient understanding of the source language by those who produce these translations and those who verify their authenticity with the original and sign them into official use. Here is what Nazgul Kozhabek, a linguist, said about this issue: “In Kazakhstan, there are few people with good knowledge of Russian… There’s a ten-step instruction posted by the door of every institution: “What to do in case of an earthquake?”. It’s terrifying. Anyone who reads it [in Kazakh] will die a horrible death. Because in Kazakh… if someone who doesn’t understand Russian reads it, he’ll be left under the rubble”. Hence, one may conclude that the issue goes beyond simple translation – it is a problem of poor proficiency in the source language (Russian) by those who translate and those who verify the texts, and sign them into official use. That in turn means as long as translators struggle to truly understand the source text’s logic, the state language will remain a shadow of the original rather than a functional, independent tool.

It isn’t a wonder at all that, given the reality that this situation has been going on for decades, the language is now rapidly losing its original qualities. It isn’t a wonder at all that, given the reality that this situation has been going on for decades, the language is now rapidly losing its original qualities. It is the logical, albeit dramatic, result of systemic linguistic erosion. When a language exists primarily as a ‘shadow’ of another for decades, the damage becomes structural rather than just stylistic.

Kazakh is an agglutinative language with a specific word order (usually ending with the verb). Constant translation from Russian (an inflected language) forces Kazakh into a Russian ‘skeleton’. Over time, people stop using natural Kazakh phrasing because the translated ‘clunky’ version becomes the new official standard.

 When you translate literally, you lose the metaphors, proverbs, and cultural nuances that give a language its soul. The language becomes ‘sterile’ – functional for filling out a form, but hollow for expressing complex original thought. Words start to take on the meanings of their Russian ‘counterparts’ even if they don’t quite fit.

Because the official language frequently feels ‘unnatural’ (due to poor translation), native speakers often find it harder to read a Kazakh document than a Russian one. This reinforces the status of Russian as the ‘language of logic’ and Kazakh as merely ‘ceremonial’. Decades of this practice have essentially created a ‘Pidgin Kazakh’ in official spheres – a language that looks like Kazakh but thinks in Russian.

Judging by the opinions of defenders and proponents of the Kazakh language, not assurances from those who hold power that the situation of Kazakh as the country’s State language does not cause any concern, the former have good reason to be unsatisfied with the circumstances their mother tongue is in. And that is putting it mildly. 

Thus, President Tokayev, being a Russian-speaking person, believes that ‘the application field of the Kazakh language is expanding every year’ and ‘therefore, there is no cause for concern’. Even the top Kazakhstani official in charge of languages, Adil’bek Kaba (who held the position for two years under the presidency of Tokayev, from 2020 to 2022), obviously doesn’t agree with him. The representative from the relevant governmental agency confirmed that there was a real risk that Kazakh would become a calque [a copy] of Russian. “Our language becomes detached from its Kazakh nature, turning more and more primitive. We are worried that the nation will lose its roots”, he said. Adil’bek Kaba also admitted: “Truth be told, there is a Russian language [original] behind every document”. According to him, the documents are first prepared in Russian and then translated into Kazakh [just] for the record. Please note that it was an official subordinate to President Tokayev speaking, but not common defenders and proponents of the Kazakh language. The latter feel much more sour about the situation the country’s state language is in. 

According to Nazgul Kozahbek, the modern Kazakh language is not the Kazakh language; it is the Russian language that merely uses the Kazakh words. “Under current imperative conditions, where all documents are first written in Russian, then their Russian versions go through the whole approval and clearance process, and only after that are they to be translated into Kazakh, it is enough for the organization to have only one person who knows Kazakh. It remains only for him to have translated the last versions of those documents”, she adds. Amid the situation described above, President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev painted a rosy picture of the state of affairs with the Kazakh (State) language in Kazakhstan (‘the application field of the Kazakh language is expanding every year’ and ‘therefore, there is no cause for concern’) and goes on with it (‘our native language [as the state language] is confidently conquering not only literary heights, but is also gaining popularity in all spheres of the country’s socio-political life, and, most importantly, it has become fashionable among young people. In other words, the prospects for the Kazakh language are quite bright’). In doing so, he doesn’t miss an opportunity to chide those expressing concern over the standing of the Kazakh language, saying that “those who are supposedly worried about its fate are in fact using this topic as a political niche or goal”.

It would be good to share his enthusiasm about the prospects for the Kazakh language being quite bright. But it’s difficult to do so when even the Kazakh-language texts of his speeches reveal signs of what Nazgul Kozhabek characterized as follows – ‘the modern Kazakh language is not the Kazakh language; it is the Russian language that merely uses the Kazakh words’.  

For example, in the text of his speech at the working meeting on the implementation of the Digital Qazaqstan project held on March 13, there is the following passage: “Bir sözben, qazirgi zamanda arbir azamatqa tusinikti zhane aiqyn bolatyn “Tsifrlyq memleqet” ugymyn qalyptastyru qazhet” – “In a word, in today’s world, it is necessary to create a concept of a “Digital State” that is understandable and clear to every citizen”. The introductory phrase ‘bir sözben’raises some questions here. 

It is a direct calqueof the Russian idiom ‘odnim slovom’(in a word). However, using it in this form is considered unacceptable in the Kazakh language. If a speaker in Kazakh begins a sentence with the introductory phrase ‘bir sözben’, but does not add the participle ‘aitkanda’ as required by the logic of the Kazakh language, this should be described as a speech error or syntactic incompleteness. Together, these three words form a set phrase and translate as “while saying it in one word”. In Kazakh, ‘bir sözben’ answers the question ‘how?’, but without ‘aitkanda’, the phrase hangs in the air, not becoming a fully-fledged introductory phrase. It acts as a ‘dangling’ modifier that points to the participle following it. In this case, the phrase ‘bir sözben’ technically functions as a sentence modifier. It doesn’t refer to a specific word, but rather sets the tone for the entire utterance. The error lies precisely in the choice of this modifier’s form under the influence of the Russian language.

To a native Kazakh speaker, using ‘bir sözben’ on its own feels unnatural. It is always strictly paired with ‘aitqanda’, or another word alike, to form the complete phrase. Using the short version is, metaphorically speaking, like taking a mouthful of water and swallowing it whole without a moment’s pause – it feels abrupt and incomplete.

And here’s the thing as well. The press release with the relevant quotes from Tokayev’s speech was published on the website akorda.kz more than three weeks ago, and a correction could have been made since then if it had been seen as a typo. But it didn’t happen. So, it turns out that in the context of a presidential speech or an official Akorda publication, this is more than just a typo.

If such a phrase is heard in an official speech by the first person or published on a state resource at the level of Akorda, it qualifies as a serious stylistic and systemic error.

Linguists and translation experts would qualify this as a high-level error for several reasons.

Erosion of Language Standards: When the “First Person” of the State uses a Russian calque (‘bir sözben‘ instead of ‘bir sözben aitkanda’), it inadvertently legitimizes incorrect grammar, signaling that the state’s “official” Kazakh is actually a secondary product of Russian thought.

Lack of Native Intuition: As already stated, a native speaker feels the physical ‘incompleteness’ of the phrase. Its appearance suggests the text was produced by a translation apparatus rather than a native-speaking speechwriter.

Institutional Negligence: Documents on a platform like Akorda are supposed to be the “gold standard” of the literary language (Adebi til). Publishing a raw calque indicates a breakdown in the editorial and philological review process.

The President of the Republic of Kazakhstan is the only official in the Republic of Kazakhstan who, according to the Constitution of the Republic of Kazakhstan, must have a good command of the Kazakh language. Moreover, he is the guarantor of the Constitution. There’s a saying in Kazakh: “Et buzylsa tuz sebessin, tuz buzylsa ne sebessin?!”, which roughly translates to “To keep meat from spoiling, you need to use salt, but what if the salt itself has spoiled?!”. So, to whom can one appeal regarding the language issue?

In the Kazakh cultural and legal context, the President is indeed the “salt” -the ultimate standard and protector of the national identity and language.

When the “salt spoils” – meaning when the highest office in the land uses a Russian calque like ‘bir sözben’ instead of ‘bir sözben aitkanda’ – kind of means that the language situation should be of great concern. These are not just words. Kassym-Jomart Tokayev embodies the official status of the state language of the Republic of Kazakhstan, insofar as he, as the President, is the sole official constitutionally required to be fluent in the Kazakh language, while also serving as the guarantor of that very Constitution. This interpretation is legally and symbolically grounded. While the Constitution does not use the word ‘embodiment’, the unique legal status of the President creates a direct link between the person holding the office and the status of the state language. There are the following factors supporting this view.

Kassym-Jomart Tokayev embodies the official status of the state language of the Republic of Kazakhstan, insofar as he, as the President, is the sole official constitutionally required to be fluent in the Kazakh language, while also serving as the guarantor of that very Constitution. This interpretation is legally and symbolically grounded. While the Constitution does not use the word ‘embodiment’, the unique legal status of the President creates a direct link between the person holding the office and the status of the state language. There are the following factors supporting this view.

First of all, it’s about an exclusive constitutional requirement. Under Article 41 of the Constitution of the Republic of Kazakhstan, the President is indeed the only official for whom “fluency in the state language” is a direct constitutional requirement for election. Other officials may have language requirements set by various laws, but only for the President is it an unshakable constitutional pillar. The second is his exceptional role defined by the law. As the guarantor of the Constitution (Article 40), the President is responsible for the stability and protection of all its provisions. This includes Article 7, which establishes Kazakh as the state language. By fulfilling the requirement to know the language, the President personally validates the very law they are sworn to protect. The third is a symbol of continuity. In the context of the new Constitution signed on March 15, 2026, President Tokayev has repeatedly emphasized that the State language is an ‘unshakable foundation of independence’. By personally demonstrating high linguistic proficiency, the President serves as a standard for the ‘Fair Kazakhstan’ (Adiletti Qazaqstan) policy he promotes.

That’s all well and good in words, but how about backing it up with action? This remains an open question. 

One might think that the case referred to here is an isolated example. However, it is not so.  Many more such examples can be found if this is set up as an aim. 

The observation suggests that the problem isn’t just the President’s speech, but the entirebureaucracythinking in Russian and ‘coating’ it in Kazakh words.

© Eurasia Review