Stand before Uzbekistan's newest cultural landmark and its size commands your attention. It is four times taller than the Hollywood sign and seven times larger than the White House. The $150 million Center for Islamic Civilization rises from the Tashkent skyline like a declaration or perhaps a question about what it means to reclaim history in the 21st century.
When the three-story complex opens to the public in March 2026, it will be more than just an impressive building. It aims to revive a golden age that most people have forgotten. It wants to remind a generation raised on smartphones and social media that their ancestors once stood at the center of human knowledge. It also seeks to address a challenge that nations in the developing world face: how do you honor your past without being trapped by it?
After three decades covering cultural institutions across Asia and the Middle East—from the controversially expensive Louvre Abu Dhabi to China's breathtaking Palace Museum expansions—I have learned to look at such projects with cautious skepticism. It is easy to create grand buildings; making them significant is difficult. Uzbekistan's ambitious investment in its Islamic heritage faces challenges that cannot be solved with augmented reality and elaborate tile work, no matter how beautiful they are.
The Weight of History
"This region has been home to many ancestors who influenced world civilization," Firdavs Abdukhalikov, the center's director, told me. "The big question was how to present their influence to the world and younger generations in an engaging and modern way."
This question goes to the heart of what this project represents. Medieval Uzbekistan was not just influential; it was transformative. Between the 9th and 12th centuries, while much of Europe suffered in what we still unfortunately call the Dark Ages, cities like Bukhara and Samarkand shone with intellectual brilliance.
These were not isolated towns. They were global centers before globalization, as historian Farhan Ahmad Nizami, founding director of the Oxford Center for Islamic Studies, puts it: "a globalized world before globalization."
The Silk Road—a legendary 1,500-year trade route stretching from Venice to Xi'an—turned Central Asian cities into crossroads where East met West. Persian mathematics blended with Chinese silk production techniques, and Greek philosophy was preserved and advanced by Islamic scholars while European monks copied manuscripts by candlelight.
Uzbek scholars from this era made contributions that we still see today. Al-Khwarizmi gave us algebra (the term itself comes from his work). Ibn Sina—known as Avicenna in the West—wrote medical texts that remained standard in European universities for centuries. Al-Biruni calculated Earth's circumference with remarkable accuracy nearly a millennium before GPS.
Then came the Timurid Empire in the 15th and 16th centuries—a second renaissance with Samarkand at its heart. The architecture from this era features grand mosaic-covered archways, blue tile domes, and intricate designs. These elements now inspire the Center for Islamic Civilization itself. Standing in front of those tiles, you can almost hear the echoes of intellectual activity. You can sense the royal courts that valued poets as much as generals and the observatories where astronomers charted the heavens with tools that would not be surpassed for generations.
The Soviet Shadow
But then came the erasure. Russian expansion in the 19th century brought Central Asia under the empire's control, and later Soviet rule imposed harsh secularism that suppressed Islamic heritage.
"A significant portion of our cultural treasures left the country during the Soviet times," Abdukhalikov said, keeping a neutral tone, as people do when discussing historical wounds that haven't fully healed.
This reality influences everything about this project. The Center for Islamic Civilization is not just building something new; it is trying to recover what was lost. Over eight years of construction, the center involved 1,500 specialists from more than 40 countries to develop its scientific, architectural, and cultural aspects. It has also searched international auction houses, including Christie's and Sotheby's, to buy back pieces of Uzbekistan's heritage one lot at a time.
"We have reclaimed 2,000 items and are continuing our work on this," Abdukhalikov said.
Consider that for a moment. A nation is buying back its own history at auction. It is both a victory and a heartbreak. It shows resilience but also illustrates how thoroughly cultural identity can be scattered by empire and ideology.
Technology Meets Tradition
The center's approach to presenting this recovered heritage shows both ambition and worry about connecting with modern audiences. An "interactive educational zone" will use virtual reality, augmented reality, and artificial intelligence to create exhibits, including conversations with "living portraits" of historical scholars.
This is a big change from the usual museums, which often feature glass cases and quiet reverence. Children will explore astronomy, medicine, literature, and art through engaging technologies that would have seemed like magic to the very scholars being honored.
The second floor will include a research facility with more than 200,000 books, making the center not just a museum but a lively academic institution where international scholars can work with primary sources.
"It's not just a museum—it's a cultural and educational platform," Abdukhalikov stressed. "Here, we don’t only engage with artifacts, but also with the lives and ideas of influential figures."
Among the treasures to be displayed are the 7th-century Quran of Uthman, one of the oldest complete Qurans in existence, and a collection of 114 Quranic manuscripts produced by renowned rulers and calligraphers over the ages. These are not merely religious objects; they serve as insights into artistic traditions, calligraphic innovations, and the material culture of Islamic civilization over centuries.
The Uncomfortable Questions
However, my decades of covering cultural projects in complex political environments make me cautious. Uzbekistan is a secular nation with a tricky relationship with religious expression. The government has faced criticism for limiting religious freedom even as it celebrates Islamic heritage. This tension exists in many post-Soviet Central Asian countries: how do you embrace Islamic history while keeping a secular government? How do you honor religious scholarship while placing limits on modern religious practices?
The center did not comment on funding sources for the $150 million project. This silence raises questions in a region where transparency around large cultural projects is often lacking.
There are also worries about whether this is the best use of resources in a developing country. One hundred and fifty million dollars is a huge amount in Uzbekistan. Could that money be better spent on education, healthcare, or infrastructure? This debate often accompanies major cultural projects in developing nations, and there are no easy answers.
Historian Nizami praised the center's "tremendous potential" but offered caution that resonates with my experience: "The building is a platform; what happens on the platform is entirely different."
He is absolutely right. I have visited impressive cultural centers from Doha to Dubai that dazzle with their architecture but struggle to engage in meaningful intellectual discussions. Buildings do not automatically create scholarship or cultural renewal; they require ongoing investment, true intellectual freedom, and a long-term commitment that goes beyond ribbon-cutting ceremonies.
A September Setback
A construction fire in September delayed the center's original opening—a reminder that even well-planned projects face unexpected challenges. However, the main construction work is now done, and the countdown to the March 2026 opening has begun.
The timing is crucial. With around 60% of Uzbekistan's population under 35, this project targets young people who have no personal memory of Soviet rule, who have grown up in an independent Uzbekistan still finding its place in the post-Soviet world.
"We have to inspire them and tell the story of our great history through innovation and creativity," Abdukhalikov said.
This is a commendable aim, but it also underscores the main challenge. How do you make medieval scholarship relevant to Instagram users? How do you convince teenagers that studying Al-Khwarizmi's mathematics is as valuable as mastering the latest gaming technology? How do you foster pride in historical achievements without creating nostalgia for an idealized past that never truly existed?
The Broader Context
Uzbekistan's project doesn't stand alone. Throughout the Islamic world, there has been a resurgence of interest in the contributions of Islamic civilization during its golden ages—partly as a response to Western narratives that have overlooked those contributions, partly as a way to foster national pride, and partly as an effort to reconnect with intellectual traditions disrupted by colonialism and modernization.
Saudi Arabia has invested billions in cultural projects. The UAE has become a museum hub. Qatar has developed Education City. Each represents a different method for how oil-rich or strategically placed nations can use cultural infrastructure to reshape their image and inform their populations.
Uzbekistan's strategy is unique. It does not rely on oil wealth—the country is still developing economically. It is not trying to become a global cultural center like Dubai. Instead, it is making a specific argument: that Uzbekistan, and Central Asia more broadly, deserve acknowledgment for contributions that have been neglected.
"(Uzbekistan's) contribution in science and arts is evident, and now people are rediscovering it, although it had not received sufficient attention," Nizami remarked.
This rediscovery is occurring in academia, with more research focusing on how Central Asian thinkers have influenced both Islamic and Western intellectual traditions. The Center for Islamic Civilization has the potential to hasten that process by making primary sources more accessible and providing a physical space for scholarship to thrive.
The Verdict? Ask Again in a Decade
From my experience with cultural mega-projects, you cannot judge them upon opening. The Louvre Abu Dhabi was controversial at launch, but it has slowly gained credibility through thoughtful programming and true scholarly engagement. China's museum expansion initially seemed like propaganda, but many institutions have matured into serious cultural players.
The real test for Uzbekistan's Center for Islamic Civilization will not happen in March 2026 when dignitaries cut ribbons and cameras flash. It will occur five or ten years later. Will international scholars actually use that library? Will the virtual reality exhibits engage young Uzbeks with their heritage, or will they seem like gimmicks? Will the center produce meaningful research, or will it become a tourist spot that locals overlook?
Most importantly, will it balance celebrating Islamic heritage with respecting contemporary religious expression? Will it encourage real intellectual inquiry, or will it turn into a monument to officially endorsed history?
The building itself is undeniably striking—a physical symbol of ambition and pride. However, Nizami's caution is worth repeating: the building is just a platform. What happens on that platform will determine if this $150 million investment becomes a true cultural revival or an expensive nostalgia trip.
For now, Uzbekistan has created something that demands attention. The world will be watching to see how they use it.
Perhaps that is an achievement in itself. For a region whose contributions have been insufficiently recognized, simply capturing attention is a start. Whether that attention leads to lasting cultural impact is the most important question—one that only time, research, and real engagement can answer.
The Center for Islamic Civilization is set to open to the public in March 2026. More details can be found through official Uzbek government cultural channels.
