2023-2025 has been announced as "Years to visit Mongolia". Within the framework, the Minister of Culture and the Ministry of Environment and Tourism are going to organize “Nas Summit-2023”, the event of international content creators, in Ulaanbaatar on August 19.

More than 20 international content creators will participate as speakers at the "Nas Summit-2023" event, and the total number of followers of these content creators is about 300 million. They will travel to our country and visit the Nuudelchin Festival 2023 that introduces Mongolian cultural heritage and traditions. In addition, Nas Daily, who has more than 40 million followers on his social media, and his team will participate.

The guests of the event have arrived in Ulaanbaatar.

Nuseir Yassin, the founder of “Nas Daily” will release content on 6 topics about Mongolia. And the first video featuring Mongolian women was released yesterday, and a total of 70 million people have watched it.

This summit will be the big opportunity for local content creators to make international collaboration and to share the same stage with international speakers.

In the forested, snowy mountains of Tsaatan, a herdsman and his family tie his reindeer herd to trees to let them graze. Uvugdorj Delger, 70, is Dukha, but he speaks to the children in the Mongolian language. When asked why he doesn’t speak the Dukha language, he sighs and says only elders like him speak it now.

The Dukha are the last reindeer herders of Mongolia. Many live deep in the taiga of north Mongolia, where temperatures can drop to minus 53 degrees Celsius in the winter and rarely rise above 23 in the summer (a swing in Fahrenheit from 63 below zero to 73 degrees). Although historically related to the ethnic Tuva people, who live in parts of Mongolia, Russia and China, the 427 Dukha of Tsagaannuur soum have their own traditions and speak a distinct variety of the Tuva language.

The pristine nature of the taiga and the rareness of reindeer husbandry persuade a few tourists to endure the bumpy roads — passable only by horse during the summer — to come here, where they can ride reindeer, sleep in traditional Dukha tents, called urts in Mongolian (not to be confused with the Mongolian yurt), and buy handicrafts made from reindeer antlers.

Whatever memorable travel stories they take with them, however, overlooks a difficult reality for the Dukha — one of land, culture and language loss.

With environmental protections encroaching on their traditional territory, and many Dukha increasingly leaving the taiga and assimilating into Mongolian society, Dukha culture could be lost forever in a few generations. “All we have left is our reindeer and our urts,” says Uvugdorj.

However, one Dukha woman is determined to see her culture alive and vibrant again. With no government support, Ulziisaikhan Sodov runs Mongolia’s only museum, and one of the country’s only formal initiatives, dedicated to celebrating Dukha history, language and tradition.

The Dukha Culture and Development Center, a two-story log house built on Ulziisaikhan’s own property in 2016, is in Tsagaannuur soum, the main village near the taiga in Khuvsgul province. Surrounded by snow-capped peaks, the center houses a specialized library and artifacts inherited by her family or donated by the community at her request — traditional deels, antlers, leather handicrafts and tools, birch and wooden bowls — all carefully displayed in glass cases.

“When the building for the center was about to finish … I told people that we need things to put in the museum,” says Ulziisaikhan. “Elders brought things they found in their barns that they decided not to throw out as garbage.”

She was the last person who cherished her history and culture.

Her enthusiasm and vitality, typical of those who have led a nomadic life, is palpable. Ulziisaikhan speaks proudly of her grandmother, her greatest inspiration. “[She] was the last person who cherished her history and culture, cooked on a traditional open-fire stove, and never spoke Mongolian language.”

Ulziisaikhan’s next big project is to set up an FM radio station to air content in the Dukha language, but she needs to raise more funds before that can happen. The only government aid she has ever received was from the Turkish Cooperation and Coordination Agency, which went to the museum’s construction. Donations from tourists are the center’s only source of income, which now is hardly enough to pay for basic maintenance such as heating — there’s no insulation in the building, which is why it remains closed during winter. A fireplace would be too dangerous to the precious objects preserved inside.

When visitors disappeared during the coronavirus pandemic, Ulziisaikhan’s income suffered. She decided to run for local elections in the hopes of securing a salary. (She won, and is now leader of her bagh, the smallest administrative unit in Mongolia.) Still, making money off the objects she collected isn’t her goal. “I don’t feel comfortable showing these items to people like goods in a shop without being able to elevate people’s understanding of what Dukha people were like,” she says.

In 2013, one year after the then-president of Mongolia visited the area for the first time, the government established a monthly allowance for all adults who live in the taiga and herd reindeer; children up to age 18 receive half of the allowance. Currently, the allowance is set at 240,400 Mongolian togrogs (70 United States dollars), and 382 Dukha receive it.

More welcome changes came in 2022, when a Dukha-language program was introduced for the first time in Tsagaannuur soum’s school. Classes are available as an optional course once a week to children in grades four and up. Out of the school’s 560 students, 200 are Dukha, says Sanjaa Myagmar, who was the school principal at the time of the interview. Last year, 98 students enrolled in the language class, including Dukha and Darkhad, a Mongolian subgroup living in Khuvsgul province.

It would have been better if the government developed tourism.

But teachers struggle with a lack of appropriate textbooks — materials come from nearby Bayan-Ulgii province and Russia’s Republic of Tuva, where different varieties of the language are spoken.

“The Dukha used to speak their native language fluently until the early 1990s. Now less than 10% speak it,” Ulziisaikhan says. She laments how little support the government lends to preserving Dukha traditions, and says, for example, that the cash allowance for those living in the taiga should come with an obligation to speak the Dukha language. “It would have been better if the government developed tourism … by effectively introducing what the main culture, food and values of Dukha people were like.”

While that doesn’t happen, she’ll keep fighting to turn her center “into a real museum,” Ulziisaikhan says, modestly. “I want to show the amazing history of how the ancient Dukha people lived in the past and how they do now.”

(source: world crunch)

With China recording its slowest growth in decades, its economic chill threatens to give neighboring Mongolia a serious case of the flu. Resource-rich but undiversified Mongolian economy depends on China for over 90% of exports and could see growth slashed as Chinese demand weakens.

Steel making in China

Mongolia’s impressive GDP growth - hitting 7.9% in Q1 2023 - has been built on supplying coal, copper and other minerals to its giant neighbor.

But with China’s property sector slowing down amid a brewing debt crisis, Mongolian commodity exporters are facing challenges from lower demand and prices. State revenues and foreign reserves are set to take a hit.

And it’s not just commodities. Chinese tourism and investment are important economic sources for Mongolia, but they also pose some challenges and uncertainties. With China’s economy at its most feeble since 1976, we can expect sharp drops in both.

Mongolian firms heavily reliant on Chinese visitors and investments will have challenging times.

The anticipated casino bill, which could have significantly attracted Chinese tourists, is currently pending approval.

There are some silver linings. Declining global commodity prices will ease inflation pressures at home. And reduced Chinese demand could open trade opportunities with third countries. But these positives pale compared to the loss of Mongolia’s main growth engine.

Mongolia’s policymakers have a battle ahead. Fiscal spending may help soften the blow in the short-term, but risks debt concerns.

Maintaining high interest rates seem inevitable to protect the tugrik currency as foreign reserves start falling. Using its sovereign wealth fund could provide breathing room, but rainy day savings only go so far.

In forecasting just 4.5% economic growth in Mongolia this year, the IMF has already baked in significant downside risks from China’s downturn.

But further deceleration may be in store if Beijing fails to course correct.

Mongolia’s lack of economic diversification means it has little insulation from the cold winds blowing from its neighbor.

With prudent policies, Ulaanbaatar can hope to emerge without catching pneumonia. But China’s massive economy sneezing inevitably means its small, export-reliant neighbor Mongolia will get sick. There is no vaccine for this economic flu yet.

BY Amar Adiya

Erdene Resource Development (TSX: ERD)(MSE: ERDN) said on Tuesday it expects to pour first gold at its Bayan Khundii project in southwestern Mongolia in late 2025, when it will become one of the country’s primary producers of the precious metal.

Announcing results of an updated independent feasibility study for Bayan Khundi, chief executive officer Peter Akerley said the mine will be one of the world’s highest grade open-pit gold operations.

Highlights of the study include a base case after-tax net present value of $170 million, using a 5% discount rate, and 35.3% internal rate of return (IRR), increasing to $196 million and 38.95% IRR, respectively, at the current gold price of $1,900 per ounce.

Production is expected to average 74,200 ounces of gold a year at an all-in sustaining cost of $869 per ounce over its 6.5-year mine life.

Compared with the 2020 feasibility study, total recovered ounces increased 25% to 476,000 ounces thanks mainly to the incorporation of additional resources from Bayan Khundii and the Dark Horse Mane deposit.

“Through our strategic alliance with MMC, Mongolia’s largest independent miner, we are moving rapidly towards production,” Akerley said. “In the meantime, we continue to explore, discover and develop the other mineral deposits in our Khundii minerals district.”

While coal has been one of Mongolia’s main mining exports, the country has been investing in sustainable development, with initiatives in green agriculture and renewable energy.

The country is also host to Rio Tinto’s (ASX, LON: RIO) Oyu Tolgoi, which will become the world’s fourth-biggest source of copper at its peak production, in 2030.

Mongolia, a landlocked country in East Asia, is now home to an impressive new glass greenhouse spanning over 800 square meters. This innovative project aims to revolutionize vegetable cultivation in the region, ensuring a steady supply of fresh, locally-grown produce. The glass-covered greenhouse provides an ideal environment for vegetables to thrive. The transparent walls allow ample sunlight to penetrate, ensuring optimal photosynthesis and growth. Additionally, the controlled temperature and humidity levels inside the greenhouse create an ideal microclimate for plants. This means that regardless of the harsh Mongolian climate, vegetables can now be cultivated throughout the year.

The introduction of this new greenhouse is a game-changer for Mongolia's agricultural sector. Previously, the country heavily relied on imported vegetables, which often resulted in high prices and limited availability. However, with the establishment of this state-of-the-art facility, local farmers can now cultivate a wide variety of vegetables, reducing the need for imports and ensuring a stable supply for the domestic market.

Furthermore, the greenhouse offers an opportunity for farmers to diversify their income sources. Many traditional Mongolian farmers have relied solely on livestock farming, which is heavily dependent on weather conditions. With the addition of vegetable cultivation, farmers can now secure a more stable income throughout the year. This not only benefits the farmers but also strengthens the overall resilience of the agricultural sector in Mongolia. The new glass greenhouse is not only economically beneficial but also environmentally friendly. By growing vegetables locally, the need for long-distance transportation is greatly reduced, resulting in lower carbon emissions. Additionally, the controlled environment inside the greenhouse minimizes the use of pesticides and herbicides, promoting sustainable farming practices.

Moreover, the glass greenhouse serves as an educational center for aspiring farmers and students interested in agriculture. It provides a platform for knowledge sharing and practical training, ensuring the transfer of modern farming techniques and practices. This contributes to the development of a skilled workforce and promotes the adoption of advanced agricultural methods in Mongolia.

The Opening Ceremony of the “Ulaanbaatar-2023" East Asian Youth Games will start tomorrow at 20:23 at the Central Stadium.

Mongolia will host the Games until August 23. Inspections and rehearsals for the opening of the Games have been held, and the organizers have prepared many surprises.

"Ulaanbaatar 2023" East Asian Youth Games opening and tournament tickets can be ordered on the TICKET.MN website and purchased at ticket sales points.

Seven of the nine East Asian National Olympic Committees will participate in the Games, in which 808 athletes will compete, and 226 coaches, 123 technical and referee representatives appointed by Asian sports federations, and 191 national judges and technical staff, altogether 1600 men, and more than 1,000 volunteers will be engaged. Over 400 artists will perform in the Opening Ceremony, and the Games will commence with a boxing match.

Three suspected cases tested negative for bubonic plague in Mongolia's capital, the country's National Center for Zoonotic Diseases said Tuesday.

The samples were taken from three people who have recently eaten marmot meat in the eastern provinces of Khentii and Sukhbaatar, said the agency.

Although hunting marmots is illegal in Mongolia, many people regard the rodent as a delicacy and ignore the law.

On Aug. 8, one case of bubonic plague was confirmed in Ulan Bator, home to over half of the country's 3.4 million population.

Seventeen out of all the 21 Mongolian provinces are now at risk of the bubonic plague, the agency said, warning the public against eating the meat.

The bubonic plague is a bacterial disease that can be spread by fleas living on wild rodents such as marmots and can kill an adult in less than 24 hours if not treated in time, according to the World Health Organization.

The Blue Sky Messengers is a Mongolian-European youth jazz orchestra created by EUNIC in Mongolia in cooperation with European and Mongolian partners. It consists of students, recent graduates and teachers from the music conservatories of Aalborg, Paris, Munich, Klagenfurt and Ulaanbaatar.

The orchestra will be in Mongolia from late August to early September 2023. It will rehearse for one week at the Yeruu lodge in Selenge province.

The Blue Sky Messengers will give concerts at the Zaluuchuud Theater in Darkhan (August 26) and Beatles Square (August 29), at the Philharmonic (August 30) and at the Fat Cat Jazz Club (from August 31 to September 2) in Ulaanbaatar.

Before traveling to Mongolia, participating students and faculty will collaborate online to create a unique repertoire representing each participating country and Mongolia as the host country.

The project is funded by EUNIC, the Franco-German Cultural Foundation, and the implementing members of EUNIC Mongolia, Alliance Française Ulaanbaatar, the Austrian Embassy in Beijing, the Danish Cultural Institute in Beijing and the Goethe Institute of Mongolia with the support of the EU Delegation to Mongolia.

Three and a half long decades ago, when central Asian regions such as Tajikistan and Uzbekistan were still in the grip of the Soviet Union, I embarked on a postgraduate study of how Islam and communism were interacting in a Tajik village. But since the KGB was omnipresent, I knew that I would not get a visa if I revealed my PhD topic.

So instead, I told the Soviet authorities that I wanted to study Tajik wedding rituals — a topic deemed to be politically acceptable for Soviet anthropologists then. And, to my delight, it turned out to be a better choice than I had ever imagined: not only did I get the backing of the Soviet academic system, but my study of marriage rituals, gender relations, sexuality and reproduction became a brilliant “key” to unlock the local culture, to cite anthropologist Nancy Tapper.

Now a Mongolian anthropologist called Baasanjav Terbish has used the same key to explore the past 800 years of her native country. The results in her book, Sex in the Land of Genghis Khan, are utterly fascinating, offering a compelling perspective on the political economy of the region made famous by Genghis Khan. After all, as she notes, “human sexuality is a product of culture” and “a profoundly political issue”.

Her account provides a powerful companion to a more conventional new study of the region, Empires of the Steppes, from the esteemed historian Kenneth Harl, which sets out to be a definitive account of its different tribes. Think of the latter as a macro-frame to Mongolian history, while the former is a micro-level account of what happened on the ground — or, more accurately, in people’s beds.

Terbish’s story starts — like most accounts of the region — with the era just before the rise of the 13th-century ruler Genghis Khan. She freely admits that “until modern times, Mongols themselves did not write about their sexual lives”, meaning that definitive information is sparse.

But, from the accounts that do exist, she notes that the shamanistic cultures of the period did not view sexuality with shame and women enjoyed an unusually high level of freedom. While strictures against adultery were introduced during the Genghis Khan era, these were a tool of political discipline and control as much as anything else — men who had established alliances with other men through marriage did not want their lineages confused.

Women who were unmarried were generally given more sexual freedom, and even when Islamic norms were adopted by Genghis Khan’s descendants, such as the llkhanate established in the mid-13th century, they were looser than one might expect in many Muslim states.

“The Muslim world of the Middle Ages, including the territory over which the Ilkhanate ruled, was very different from today’s Islamic world,” Terbish writes. “During that period, it was common for Islamic scholars to engage theologically in issues relating to all aspects of sex, which gave birth to a rich tradition of Islamic sexology.” Who knew?

She had at least seven children by six different men. Rather than receiving a public dressing-down, the state pinned the medal of Glorious Mother of the First Class to her chest

This pattern predominated for centuries until the socialist era, with benefits (such as a relative lack of shame about sexuality and freedom for women) and costs (syphilis was rampant in 19th-century Mongolia, as horrified Russian doctors noted).

But when the communist regime took control, in the early 20th century, the pattern shifted: as in the Soviet culture I studied, party officials assumed that the state should have control of peoples’ lives — and bodies.

One consequence was that women were encouraged to produce as many children as possible, even when unmarried. “My paternal aunt, who lived her whole life in Dundgobi province, was notorious in her youth,” recalls Terbish, who uses her own life experiences to make the book extremely readable. “She enjoyed sexual intimacy with many married and single men, giving birth to at least seven children by six different men. Rather than receiving a public dressing-down, the state pinned the medal of Glorious Mother of the First Class to her chest.”

However, communist officials also insisted that the only acceptable form of sexual encounter was heterosexual, suppressed expressions of pleasure or passion, and left citizens living in such cramped conditions that sex was often impractical. This was also true of the wider Soviet Union.

The most interesting — and tragic — twist in this tale, however, is the arrival of the post-Soviet era: Terbish explains that when the communist state collapsed, many social norms crumbled as well. That has emancipated some people. But Mongolian nationalists are increasingly espousing a vision of pre-communist nationhood based on a mythical (and historically inaccurate) sense of puritanism, coupled with xenophobia. Indeed, the book opens with a scene of a Mongolian prostitute having her hair shaved off by nationalists after serving a Chinese client.

The lessening of socialist controls has also led to sexual abuse, alcoholism and sex trafficking. Sexuality, in other words, provides a good metaphor for the chaos of regime change, as in many other post-Soviet countries; indeed, if I have one key criticism of the book, it is that not enough parallels are drawn with other regions where similar dynamics have played out.

Harl’s account of Central Asia takes a radically different tack: he aspires to write “a sweeping narrative covering forty-five centuries” (yes, really) of the region’s nomads, ranging from well-known names, such as Genghis Khan and the Mongols, to the less familiar Scythians, Parthians, Khazars and Tocharians.

This is harder to digest than Terbish’s account, not just because of the lack of salacious material, but also because the account is dense and many of the peoples described are little known in the west. That, in a sense, should be no surprise: although Central Asia has been a crucially important crossroads and engine of history for Asia, the Middle East and Europe, after the demise of the Silk Road 600 years ago — and the rise of marine trading routes — Europe became less interested. And during the cold war the region became so difficult to access that it was often treated like a blank point in the map.

But this sense of mystery is why I first ventured there. And it is also why the two books are worth reading. After all, we live in an era where so-called “Great Game” geopolitical rivalries are resurfacing and the world is scrambling to get hold of the commodities that sit in these vast lands. Now, more than ever, we need a better understanding of this area and its history — whether panoramic or intimate.