Another citizens’ reception held at the Senate of Uzbekistan has, yet again, confirmed that the Uzbek bureaucratic system is a repressive, rotten mechanism that lives by the laws of arbitrariness and open contempt for the people.

On January 12 at 10:00 a.m., a citizens’ reception with Senator Bakhrom Abdullaev was scheduled to take place in the building of the Senate of the Republic of Uzbekistan. For reasons known only to the senator himself, the reception began an hour and a half late. Throughout this time, people who had come with real problems and the hope of being heard waited patiently.

Neither Senator Bakhrom Abdullaev nor the staff of the reception office considered it necessary to explain themselves or apologize to the citizens for making them wait for an hour and a half.

People were simply made to face an unpleasant fact: you will wait as long as the authorities say, because your time, your plans, and your life are expendable material to them.

Particular outrage was caused by the absence of the Chairwoman of the Senate, Tanzila Narbaeva. As early as January 6 of this year, people had officially notified her office in writing of their desire to meet with her on January 12. However, on the appointed day, Narbaeva still had not returned from a foreign vacation, demonstrating complete disregard for her duties.

When the reception finally began, Senate staff called in the National Guard. The people who had come to the Senate reception found themselves surrounded by nearly a dozen armed security officers, as if terrorists were standing before them rather than peaceful citizens with legitimate demands. This ostentatious “security circus” laid bare the authorities’ fear of their own people and their cynical disregard for common sense: state institutions have turned into a farce in which the government fears those it is supposed to serve.

Visitors note that fear could be read in the senators’ eyes—fear of being questioned, fear of being held accountable, fear of facing the consequences of their decisions and inaction. This fear reveals the essence of a bureaucratic system built on impunity and the complete neglect of citizens’ needs.

Having finally become convinced of the complete incapacity of the puppet Senate and its pocket chairwoman, citizens were forced to submit a written appeal to Saida Mirziyoyeva, the president’s daughter—thereby stating the fact that state institutions have effectively been dismantled in the country, and all levers of decision-making are concentrated within a family clan, where at least theoretically it is possible to resolve one’s problems.

The so-called legislative activity of Uzbekistan’s parliament has long since lost any real meaning and turned into mere imitation. Discussion and adoption of laws crucial for the country are openly formalistic and take just a few minutes. For example, the Law “On the State Budget of the Republic of Uzbekistan,” which determines the economic fate of the state and millions of citizens, is approved annually after discussions lasting only a few minutes. This is not lawmaking—it is the rubber-stamping of decisions handed down in advance.

In the context of the rapid and catastrophic growth of public debt, such a practice is a manifestation of complete incompetence and the deliberate weakening of Uzbekistan’s state sovereignty.

Against the backdrop of a deteriorating socio-economic situation for the population, deputies and senators systematically increase spending on their own maintenance. While citizens are told to “tighten their belts,” representatives of the authorities secure privileges, benefits, and financial protection for themselves. This is direct evidence that parliament has ceased to be an organ of popular representation and has finally turned into a structure servicing the Mirziyoyev regime.

Today’s parliament of Uzbekistan is not an institution of legislative power, but a closed community of politically dependent, professionally incompetent, and corrupt individuals.

Here it would be appropriate to cite an episode from the family life of the second-ranking official in the country, the Chairperson of the Senate of Uzbekistan, Tanzila Narbaeva, as a clear illustration of the level of moral decay and cynicism to which a representative of the highest authority can descend.

In the autumn of 2022, 12,500 US dollars were stolen from the highly secured “Durmen” complex, officially allocated by the state to the Chairwoman of the Senate of Uzbekistan, Tanzila Narbaeva, but for unexplained reasons occupied by her daughter, Nilufarkhon Kamalova. Tanzila Narbaeva and her daughter accused their housekeeper, Dilnoza Toshmatova, of stealing the money.

During the investigation, through torture and sexual violence against Dilnoza, the investigative authorities of Tashkent were able to extract a confession from the suspect.

However, a parallel investigation conducted by the State Security Service of the President of Uzbekistan revealed that the money from the home of Senate Chairwoman Tanzila Narbaeva had in fact been stolen by her own grandson — a young man who for several years had been suffering from a pathological gambling addiction.

Later, the chairwoman’s daughter, Nilufarkhon Kamalova, filed a new statement indicating that the stolen 12,500 US dollars had “reappeared on their own” and withdrew her previous complaint. Nilufarkhon Kamalova has been married four times and is the second wife of a citizen of the Russian Federation from the North Caucasus.

This case is a vivid symbol not merely of moral decay, but of the complete collapse of family and ethical foundations, impunity, and the cynical degradation of the entire presidential entourage.

A state facing regional and global challenges cannot afford a manual, decorative parliament made up of obedient extras. The question of full political accountability and the systemic replacement of this body becomes a matter of national security.

History convincingly shows that all rulers of authoritarian regimes were blinded by the illusion of their own cunning, invulnerability, and the supposed “eternity” of their power. They sincerely believed they had complete control over the situation, that society was permanently intimidated and doomed to endless silence. But reality repeatedly shattered these self-deceptions. The end of such regimes always proved inevitable, and the finale of their rule was predictably harsh, humiliating, and tragic.

Today, the Mirziyoyev regime lives in the same dangerous self-deception, repeating the mistakes of those who have already lost everything, including their own lives. And if the authorities continue to ignore reality, disregard common sense, and serve only their own interests, they will inevitably face a historical verdict from which neither stolen wealth, nor security forces, nor the illusion of control will provide salvation.