About beshbarmak, money, meat, traditions, genetics, and breeding

PIONERPRODUKT.by continues its interview series with the prominent Kazakhstani scientist Dastanbek Asylbekovich Baimukanov , recorded by his younger brother, Syzdyk Asylbekovich Baimukanov.
The first part of the interview is titled: "A Story of Shepherds, Sheep, and Freedom ."
We remind you that numerous articles on animal husbandry by Dastanbek Asylbekovich Baimukanov have been published on our portal.

Beshbarmak and Traditions
Every time my brother visits us, it begins the same way—with beshbarmak. How could it be otherwise? He's a great expert in this field. My brother, Dastanbek Asylbekovich Baimukanov , is an academician, professor, and a distinguished geneticist. In short, he's a serious man.

Frankly, he's a rare specimen—a true "scientist at the plough," a nearly endangered species. He's never sought office jobs or leadership positions, because they take away the most precious thing—time for real science. And he loves science. With true love, without betrayal.

Many believe that scientists are defined by their ranks and positions, but in science, everything is more honest: your level is determined by how well your discoveries are accepted by colleagues around the world. Therefore, the main criteria for choosing an academician are the number of articles in highly ranked international journals and the citation index. And here, my brother not only meets the requirements, but he exceeds them by an order of magnitude. Science is the fruit of deep reflection, publications, fieldwork, and constant personal interaction with farmers, delving deeply into their problems. You must not speak in beautiful and inspiring slogans, but explain complex things in simple terms. So that the most frugal and conservative people in the world—and farmers have always been like that—will trust you and risk their hard-earned tenge.

That's why he currently has the most articles in prestigious international journals and the highest citation index among Kazakhstani scientists. He's read, cited, invited abroad, and, most importantly, our farmers are eagerly awaiting him. Because he's not an armchair theorist, but a practitioner who travels throughout Kazakhstan's regions, visits the most remote pastures, and sees firsthand how farms operate.

And, of course, in every village he's greeted as expected—with beshbarmak. So, you could say he's tried every version. And sometimes, after tasting the MEAT , he jokingly says,
"Well, this selection was a success!"

The symbolism of beshbarmak
. The name "beshbarmak" is usually translated as " five fingers ." But there's a subtlety: "sausaq" is simply a finger, while "barmaq" is the thumb, the main finger without which the hand doesn't function. So it is in the family, as in the country—without harmony, there is no prosperity.

For Kazakhs, beshbarmak is the main dish, similar to plov among their neighbors. Incidentally, plov is also eaten with five fingers. But for us, it was more profound: you could tell your status by what cut of meat and on what bone you were served.

It's like today at the meeting: from the sign and its distance from the "main" one, it's immediately clear who is where in the hierarchy and where they are drifting.

It's commonly said that Kazakhs are the second-largest meat eaters in the world. But when asked, "Who's the biggest?" the answer is, "Wolves." And this is no coincidence. When Kazakhs invite guests, everything is measured in meat. For example, a beshbarmak (a traditional Kazakh dish) for five healthy and hearty people is a large dish: about 5 kilograms of pure meat or 7 kilograms on the bone. After all, our main treat is meat, a symbol of respect and generosity.

The number "bes" is sacred to the Kazakhs. Humans have five fingers, five senses, and perform namaz five times a day. It's even found everywhere in nature: many flowers have exactly five petals. Scientists believe that plants with five-petaled flowers—eudicots—have become the most numerous and successful group on Earth. In other words, nature itself preserves the harmony of the number five.

This harmony is also reflected in culture. The ancient Turks believed in five elements: fire , water, earth, air, and metal. The yurt also has five cardinal directions: east , west, south, north, and the center, where the oshak (hearth) stands. And in the Kazakh tradition, wisdom is associated with five virtues: justice, courage, moderation, respect for elders, and generosity. All this again brings us back to the sacred number "bes."

And in spiritual life, it's no accident either. Right intention is your answer to the question "why?" Therefore, begin every task with this question. Ask yourself: "Why is it important for me to achieve this goal or dream?" Found the answer? Then ask again: "Why is this important?" Repeat this five times in a row. This is how true, sincere intention is born.

The Almighty judges us not only by our actions, but also by our intentions. Therefore, begin every day, every endeavor, and even your family life with a good and sincere intention. Once you find it, don't give in to doubt and fear, but act boldly! After all, intention is only the beginning, and results come with the grace of Allah and through real actions.

And that's why when we say, " let's have a meal ," it means more than just eating and chatting, but sharing a deep understanding and a leisurely conversation where there's room for both thought and soul.
But it's important to remember another Kazakh saying: "Ekі bas bіr kazanғa syimaydy" — " two heads don't fit in one cauldron ." This is used to describe situations where people can't agree on anything—be it business partners, spouses, or even entire nations.

At the same time, the ram has never been a symbol of stupidity for the Kazakh. It is a sacred animal for the nomad: it provided meat, warmth with wool, MILK , and was a measure of wealth. Even in rituals, the ram holds a special place. A ram's HEAD was presented to the most honored guest as a sign of the highest respect. But when people stubbornly argue, unwilling to seek agreement, they become like such lifeless heads: they seem to have form, but lack life and meaning. The result of such struggle is the centuries-long, bloody history of the world, which, alas, continues to this day.

And beshbarmaq is the opposite. It's a symbol of unification. It's what brings together clans, family, and friends around a single dastarkhan. A true Kazakh version of "connecting people."

About money, meat and strategies
This time, over beshbarmak, without any sentimentality, I immediately moved on to the topic of money.

"What's the power, brother? What will ultimately bring more income to the state and benefit society in agriculture? When you watch reports on agriculture, the picture is the same as it has been since the Soviet era. Just as Lenin walked through the ripening fields, so too are today's leaders—in ties, waist-deep in wheat, discussing the prospects of the "battle for the harvest" with combine operators."

To which my brother calmly replied,
"Scientists don't work with pictures, we work with data. And the data is this: we have only 20 million hectares of arable land, and 183 million hectares of pasture. That means less than 10% of arable land. The effect of more than a century of virgin land development, begun by Stolypin before the Revolution and picked up by the Communists 70 years ago, is more like the torments of Sisyphean. I'll try to explain it quickly."

Firstly, Kazakhstan is a risky agricultural zone. No matter how hard we try, harvesting more than 15 centners per hectare is a feat in itself. This is not like European black soil with its 80 centners. The cost of our grain is many times higher. It's just like the story with oil: in the Arab world, production costs pennies, while here it's many times more.

Secondly, Kazakhstan is in the center of the continent. Access to the sea is blocked by sometimes unpredictable neighbors who produce the same goods. And they'll happily turn off the tap for the sake of profit. Grain is cheap, and if the sea is over 1,000 km away, no subsidies will help. The game isn't worth the candle. And all these fairy tales about "deep processing" have yet to be proven true in any industry.

“Forgive me, as a scientist, I only believe in facts,” the brother concluded.

He went on to explain that our ancestors were wise people. They understood that the true wealth of the steppe lay in livestock farming. Grains were needed only for food security and livestock feed.

Before the revolution, the Kazakh cow resembled the Tuvan: up to 750 kg, with long horns like a buffalo. But they weren't kept for milk or steaks, but as a "tractor on four legs." They pulled plows and hauled loads. But Soviet "improvers" ruined everything. They decided to crossbreed them with Holsteins and Simmentals, and the Kazakh breed is no more. It's a classic: a "five-year plan in three years," a denial of genetics, and a rush for quick results. And breeding is a subtle science, a work for centuries and generations. The main thing is that Tuvans don't repeat our mistakes. If you want steaks, it's better to import proven champion Angus and Hereford cattle than to ruin the local heritage.

"Pasture-raised livestock has the lowest production costs, and the meat can be easily transported to distant lands," my brother added. "Argentine steak gets there!"

And the figures:
• For sheep: before the revolution and in the USSR 45-50 million heads. Now 12 million, but the dynamics are positive.
• For cattle: before the revolution - 2 million, in the USSR - 10 million. Now 8 million. Of these, 2 million are meat, 3 million are dairy, the rest are mongrel low-productivity post-Soviet cattle.
• For horses: pre-revolutionary record - 5 million, today 3.9 million, which is higher than the Soviet level of 1.2 million.
• For camels: pre-revolutionary maximum - 1.3 million, today about 302 thousand. This is 2.5 times more than in the USSR.

And here we smoothly approached strategy:
"You know," my brother began with a smile, "we live in the age of digital nomads, and the knowledge you gain while surfing the internet is truly worth billions. It's more effective than any government programs! Subsidies are no substitute for a smart approach. And there are areas that are undervalued, but could change the rules of the game."

I, of course, thought we'd talk about cows. But he said,
"No, let's talk about our true treasures—horses and camels. And also about our sheep, popularly known as "Kara Mal." That is, cattle for every day. Figuratively speaking, a sheep is bread, and horses and camels are the butter . But they all need to be raised simultaneously, comprehensively, as our ancestors did. Otherwise, as in some southern regions, karakurt spiders, the sheep's main delicacy, will outsnack the camels. But in terms of sheep alone, in my opinion, the Yedilbaev breed is the best for our harsh conditions. We had a good discussion about sheep last time, and I won't repeat it ( link to article )."

Natural Advantages and Gene Pool.
Look at the map: endless steppes, deserts, and semi-deserts. This is our main competitive advantage. Other countries spend billions on feed, but we can simply say, "Thank you, nature!" Animals can graze year-round in places where others simply cannot survive.

"Many people think this is an old-fashioned industry," my brother continued, "but in reality, it's a premium niche: organic kumiss, shubat, meat, milk. People are willing to pay more. We have a unique gene pool, and our job is to develop it."

The main enemy? The lack of systematic selection. They breed "whatever happens." It's like taking the fastest race car and filling it with bad gasoline—it will run, but it won't reach its full potential.

The solution is simple and inexpensive: invest in brains, in science. Create three or five breeding centers based on successful farms, use modern technology, and work with scientists. In a few years, the herd will not just grow—it will be of higher quality.

"It's like investing in one better phone, not a thousand cheap ones. The effect is much stronger. Daron Acemoglu, a Nobel laureate in economics, proved that true wealth is notIt's not oil and gold, but people. It's you, your knowledge, talents, and the worldview we pass on to our children. On this long journey of scholarship and self-discovery, I've found a profound resonance in Kazakh folk wisdom. True wisdom and knowledge—"aqyl"—are valued above all else, because, as the proverb goes, "Aqyl – altynnan qymbat"—" Reason is more valuable than gold ." This suggests that no material wealth can compare to the power of one's own mind.

This is precisely our unique opportunity. We can not only provide for ourselves, but also become a global leader in the production of organic, high-margin products. And to achieve this, we don't need huge budgetary infusions. We simply need to invest in what we already have: our nature and our unique gene pool—the priceless and still-unlost legacy of our ancestors. The strength of the steppe lies not only in its vastness and riches, but in the unique gene pools that have served as the foundation of our economy for several millennia.

Genetics is the foundation of safety
. "Why selective breeding?" I persisted.
"It's very simple. Who do you think makes the most money in agriculture?" my brother answered. "Why do scientists always make us use our brains?"

"Probably the one who produces more grain, eggs, meat, milk, and wool?" I replied.
"The truth is, it's the one on the level above who earns—and that's the cruel truth of life. It's always the one on the level above who earns!"

"How's that possible?" I asked, perplexed.
"Look. In crop production, these are seed farms that have hooked the entire world on their needle. Their grain costs tens of times more than ordinary grain, but the quality and yield are superb. True, it degenerates after three planting cycles, and to avoid going broke, you have to buy it again and again. This applies to all crops—from potatoes to beets and carrots. Gardeners have memorized this algorithm from their cucumbers, tomatoes, cabbage, and pumpkins. Anyone involved in poultry farming will also tell you that all broilers and laying hens are descendants of foreign breeds that arrived here on heavy-duty airliners as eggs or chicks. And the recent story about cows is known all over Kazakhstan. Understand: a country's food security isn't about endless fields, huge farms, and poultry factories, but about its gene pool. Imagine if sanctions cut off our access to purchasing this gene pool. In two or three years, everything will collapse: first, eggs will disappear from the shelves, and then, like meat, their prices will skyrocket. You see, genetics, thanks to scientists like Vavilov, was developing by leaps and bounds at the dawn of Soviet power , and the whole world learned from us. But then the great leader realized that genetics had a problem: it ran counter to communist ideology, embodied by the notorious scientist Lysenko. And with all the proletarian hatred, they exterminated geneticists as a scientific class. Until the 1960s and 1970s, genetics was tacitly banned. And if our agricultural officials understand that the gene pool is the most important thing, then Lenin's images of peasants in a field will be replaced by Western ones, where the first, second, and third-ranking officials of the state will discuss the prospects for the country's growth and security with scientists. But here we need the very mechanisms of nomadic democracy, when our ancestors lived as if they could see the horizon seven generations ahead and knew the way back seven generations. For them, time was not a point, but a steppe—broad, boundless, connecting the past and the future. Their strength lay in their ability to see far and remember deeply. After all, it takes centuries of painstaking work to create a single breed. This is why experiments with hybridization are short-lived, a repeat of history with broilers, grain, and layers. Einstein even proved: "You cannot solve a problem at the same level where it arose." To win, we need to rise to a higher level—to the level of genetics.

On support programs and the future
—Well, how does this look in monetary terms, and what do you think of agricultural support programs?
My brother smiled at this and said that all cataclysms—both in business and in nature—are linked to officials trying to reverse evolution. He continued, quoting the satirist Mikhail Zadornov: "The economy is not a rubber band, and it cannot be stretched to fit the crazy desires of our leaders." In business, the one who offers the best product, the one that solves people's problems most effectively, survives. And in nature, it's not just the strongest who survive, but also the one who adapts to change the fastest. One sneeze, and you're on the dinner menu of wolves, nature's sanitary and epidemiological station.

Our three key genetic achievements—camels, horses, and sheep—could generate revenues exceeding oil revenues . And this is without multi-billion DOLLAR subsidies and sunk costs for irrigation, agricultural machinery, fertilizers, farm construction, poultry farms, feed mills, and veterinary care. In Islam, as in business, there's a strict rule: strengthen what's strong. But if you look at where the budget money is going , they're clearly betting on the wrong horse. It won't win the race. It's already dead. And no budget subsidies will revive it. I'm a proponent of natural selection. Let's simply focus on science, which farmers themselves will choose and co-finance. And then we'll not only save trillions of tenge, but thanks to natural selection, we'll generate revenues comparable to the entire periodic table of resources in our subsoil, including oil and gas.

After such a profound conversation, I understood the full power of beshbarmak and spent a long time digesting the knowledge I'd gained. I couldn't help but wonder why no one had explained it so simply and clearly before.
This conversation over beshbarmak, about the eternal Kazakh themes of meat and money, evolved into a discussion of the priceless legacy of our ancestors, comparable in magnitude to the country's boundless resources and rich mineral wealth. You understand that our true strength lies in knowledge, traditions, and the right priorities. And the modern world of digital nomads gives us the chance to once again emulate the feat of our ancestors from the Golden Horde. The main thing is to act wisely and carefully preserve our heritage: the boundless steppe expanses and our unique gene pool.

Author: Syzdyk Asylbekovich Baimukanov.