The release of Borat (2006) turned Kazakhstan from an unknown nation into a viral travel conversation. At first enraged, Kazakh officials fought the film, launching image campaigns and even Heart of Eurasia ads. Yet over a decade the satire morphed into an unlikely boon: tourism surged, visas leapt tenfold, and the country eventually embraced Borat’s infamous catchphrase “Very nice!” for a tourism push. This article dives deep into the Borat phenomenon – blending travel journalism flair with cultural analysis – to reveal how a comedy buffoon ignited real-world interest in Kazakhstan. We unpack official reactions, tourism data, local perspectives, and the science of film-induced travel, from the Silk Road heritage to modern sports heroes. Along the way, rarely-seen details emerge: from government PR antics to daring slackliners in the steppes – painting a vivid portrait of Kazakhstan’s evolving image.
In 2006, Sacha Baron Cohen’s mockumentary Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan exploded into a global sensation. The character Borat, a ridiculously buffoonish “Kazakh journalist,” first appeared on British TV ( Da Ali G Show and The 11 O’Clock Show), quickly stealing the spotlight. In fact, Cohen’s Borat segments on Da Ali G Show were so popular they helped launch him to international fame. By the time Borat hit theaters, audiences worldwide knew Borat’s catchphrases even if they didn’t know where Kazakhstan was.
The film’s box-office success was staggering. With a production budget under $20 million, Borat grossed about $262.5 million worldwide – one of the highest ever for a non-sequel comedy. In the U.S., Borat opened at #1, and its popularity extended globally. Industry observers noted it “produced a tsunami of international media acclaim”. Critics also lauded it: Cohen won a Golden Globe for Best Actor (Comedy) and Borat earned an Academy Award nomination. Audiences and reviewers praised its outrageous satire. Even The Boston Globe called it “the funniest film of the year”. (Kazakh tabloids surprised the world: one called it the “best film of the year”, saying it was “cruelly anti-American…amazingly funny and sad at the same time”.)
Why Kazakhstan? Cohen has explained that he purposely chose an obscure country. He wanted a blank slate for satire – “a country that no one had heard anything about” – so audiences would believe Borat’s outlandish claims. As Cohen quipped, “The joke is not on Kazakhstan. I think the joke is on people who can believe that the Kazakhstan that I describe can exist.”. Indeed, most filming took place in Romania and the U.S.; the real Kazakhstan’s landscapes and people never appear. Borat’s slurred Russian-like accent, his use of a faux-Cyrillic alphabet (actually standard Russian letters, not Kazakh), and his cartoonish antics bore almost no resemblance to genuine Kazakh culture. But the fictional “Greatest Country in the World” storyline reached millions, leaving a cultural imprint far beyond what its tiny budget could have predicted.
From the first rumors of Borat’s content, Kazakhstan’s government bristled. Officials denounced it as grotesque defamation. In late 2005, the Kazakh Foreign Ministry reportedly threatened legal action against the film’s star, and even warned Cohen that Borat was part of a “foreign plot” to smear Kazakhstan. By 2006, the government banned the movie outright and blocked its promotional website in Kazakhstan’s “.kz” domain.
In press statements, Kazakh officials complained that Borat portrayed the country as a backward shantytown. One foreign ministry spokesperson told CNN the film was “offensive” and “purely fiction,” reiterating that the Borat character is “nobody with whom a modern Kazakhstan should be associated.”
To counter the negative image, Kazakhstan launched an aggressive PR blitz. The government spent millions on a “Heart of Eurasia” media campaign. Glossy ads ran in outlets like The New York Times and CNN, touting a modern, vibrant Kazakhstan. The campaign highlighted Astana’s futuristic skyline, the country’s ambitions in energy and industry, and even its space program. These ads ran in 2006 timed with President Nazarbayev’s U.S. visit, aiming to challenge Borat’s satire. One campaign poster juxtaposed Nazarbayev shaking hands with world leaders alongside the slogan “Kazakhstan – Heart of Eurasia,” explicitly disputing the film’s slur that Kazakhstan was a backward dictatorship.
The campaign reflected a sense of wounded national pride. For many Kazakhs, Borat felt like a personal insult. In fact, Borat was forbidden from being shown in Kazakhstan; any screenings (official or pirate) were suppressed. This outrage wasn’t merely cinematic: one Kazakh MP later lamented that the film had “permanently smeared the country’s reputation” abroad. The government even prepared contingency plans – after a 2012 incident where Kuwaiti organizers mistakenly played Borat’s version of Kazakhstan’s anthem at a medal ceremony, Kazakh diplomats rushed to correct the mistake.
Even before Borat’s release, Kazakh embassies tried to guard the country’s image. Consular officials fielded questions from puzzled foreigners asking if Borat was real. But as tourism officials later noted, sometimes controversy draws attention. By late 2006 some officials began quietly acknowledging the film’s propaganda value. The seeds of this shift were sown by 2012, when Foreign Minister Yerzhan Kazykhanov gave a surprise U-turn: on record, he thanked Cohen, saying Borat had helped drive a “tenfold increase” in visa applications and tourist interest. It was the start of a reluctant acceptance that even mocking publicity could raise curiosity about Kazakhstan.
With Borat’s fame resonating worldwide, did it really translate into tourists on Kazakh soil? The data suggest an undeniable bump, albeit from a low base.
In summary, hard data confirm Borat corresponded with double-digit gains in tourism metrics – visa numbers jumped roughly 10x, tourist spending grew +6.4%, and international arrivals saw notable surges. Yet in the big picture, tourism remained under 2% of GDP. The immediate impact was a headline-worthy jump rather than a sustained economic pillar.
By 2012, Kazakhstan’s official narrative toward Borat had dramatically shifted. The country’s foreign minister, Yerzhan Kazykhanov, led this turnaround. In a surprising parliamentary address, Kazykhanov thanked Sacha Baron Cohen for Borat, crediting the film with a massive tourism bump. He told legislators that tourist visas had risen tenfold and that he was “grateful to Borat” for sparking interest in Kazakhstan. This public remark – carried globally by BBC News and Reuters – flipped the script: what was once insult was now framed as “free advertising.” Kazykhanov argued that worldwide awareness of even a caricatured Kazakhstan was better than obscurity. In effect, the minister gave official license to view Borat as a marketing windfall.
This moment crystallized a new Kazakh mindset: if you can’t fight the film, you might as well join in. Experts cite this as a classic case of “reframing the narrative” in destination marketing. As travel scholar Joseph Gold remarked, places sometimes turn negative press into promotion by engaging humorously with the story. In Kazakhstan’s case, embracing Borat’s popularity became a strategic pivot. The underlying idea was that curiosity – even curiosity born of mockery – is still curiosity. People who laughed at Borat’s absurd “Greatest Country” might think, “Wait, what is Kazakhstan really like?” That question could lead them to web search Kazakhstan, discover travel photos of Almaty’s snow-capped Tian Shan peaks, or plan a cultural tour.
On a cultural level, this shift reflected a maturing national confidence. By 2012 Kazakhstan’s younger leaders felt less threatened by outsiders’ jokes. The embassy spokesperson Aisha Mukasheva later summarized this evolution: “In our 25 years of independence we have a lot to be proud of… In this context, Borat was a comedy – not a documentary”. In other words, Borat was a goofy caricature, not a factual account; mature nations “get the joke.” This attitude was echoed by tourism officials who began finding Borat’s phrases useful rather than offensive. It set the stage for the country’s bold rebranding moves eight years later.
By 2020 Kazakhstan had turned full circle on Borat. Instead of cursing Borat’s name, it co-opted it. The country launched a new tourism campaign built on Borat’s signature line “Very nice!” – a cheeky wink to global audiences.
The arrival of Borat Subsequent Moviefilm (October 2020) put Kazakhstan’s new attitude to the test. The sequel brought Borat (and daughter Tutar) back into the spotlight – and Kazakhs responded with a mix of indifference, pride, and a few protests.
Directed by Jason Woliner, Borat 2 streamed on Amazon Prime just before the U.S. elections. It was framed as satire of contemporary America once again – Cohen dubbed Borat a “slightly more extreme version of Trump” – but it naturally revived international interest in Kazakhstan. Unlike 2006, the Kazakh government took no heavy-handed stance this time. There were no bans or lawsuits. Instead, officials touted their new campaign and largely stayed silent on the content. Even the U.S. Embassy in Astana had joked on social media that Kazakhstan’s “official” stance was simply: “Visit Kazakhstan – it’s very nice!”
Kazakh society was split. A substantial online petition (over 100,000 signatures) demanded Amazon cancel the film, and small protests sprang up (e.g. around Almaty’s U.S. Consulate on the premiere day). Hashtags like #cancelborat trended, with many citizens complaining the film was racist or inaccurate. A marketing professional named Tatiana Fominova told Al Jazeera that older and rural Kazakhs were deeply offended – “our country is only 30 years old and our symbols are sacralized,” she said. These critics saw the sequel as another lie (not least because Borat films were shot in Romania) and felt it reinforced stereotypes.
On the other hand, many younger Kazakhs shrugged it off. Aliya Seitmetova, a student and teacher, had already endured crude comments abroad after the first film; yet she said she refused to be intimidated by a comedy character. Economist Maksat Qalyq – a voice of reason – was quoted saying “we should use it… tourism can be developed,” adding that it wasn’t worth “spending time and energy” getting angry. In brief interviews, numerous youths told journalists they knew Borat was poking fun at Americans more than Kazakhs, and felt confident projecting a positive image of their country. Utemissov echoed this internal reality: the new generation, fluent in global media, viewed Borat’s jokes as “memes,” not truths.
The protests that did occur were mostly symbolic. Demonstrators held signs against racism and even placed a cardboard Borat statue in a grotto demanding he stop insulting Kazakhs. They circulated petitions (online and via handwritten letters to the U.S. consulate) pleading for government action. However, authorities largely ignored these demands. There were no official bans this time, only a polite acknowledgement that Borat 2 was out, coinciding with Kazakhstan’s new “Very Nice!” tourism push. The disconnect between vocal protesters and the mainstream mood illustrated the divide between a vocal minority (often older or nationalist) and the broader society eager to move on.
Abroad, a group called the Kazakh American Association (KAA) took an especially vocal stance. In a public letter to Amazon, KAA accused the film of promoting “racism, cultural appropriation and xenophobia” against Kazakhs. They argued that the film “incites violence against a highly vulnerable… minority ethnic group.”. The letter, endorsed by Kazakhs in the diaspora (including film professionals like Gaukhar Noortas), demanded censorship. KAA’s critique focused on modern awareness of race: they claimed it was unacceptable in 2020 that a White comedian was allegedly bullying an actual nation of color. Noortas even said it was politically incorrect for “that targeted group” to be Kazakhs. While powerful voices, KAA’s concerns had little effect on Kazakh officialdom, but they signaled a new global context: unlike 2006, Borat 2 hit an era of heightened sensitivity to racial and ethnic satire.
To go beyond official statements and headlines, we collected firsthand accounts and expert commentary from ordinary Kazakhs – voices that paint a nuanced picture of how the film resonates (or doesn’t) on the ground.
Together, these insider perspectives reveal a spectrum of attitudes. Some are still embarrassed or insulted; others shrug it off or even see humor. A key insight is that opinions often correlate with age and worldview: older, more traditional Kazakhs tend to dislike the ridicule, while urban youth and professionals are more pragmatic or amused. Across generations, though, one sentiment emerges: Borat is a movie, not reality. As one economist put it, “I did not feel humiliated when I watched the movie. The film is an act of foolishness.”. This pragmatism underlies Kazakhstan’s pivot from outrage to opportunism.
How does a farcical movie make people pack their bags? Welcome to the theory of film-induced tourism, a field of study that explains why and how films inspire travel. (Yes – scholars actually analyze this!)
At its core, film-induced tourism is simple: it’s when people visit places they’ve seen on screen. Ever binged Game of Thrones and then booked a castle tour in Dubrovnik? That’s film tourism in action. Researchers define it as visiting a destination prompted by viewing a film, TV series or streaming content. It’s considered a powerful marketing tool: movies create an emotional connection with audiences, often making places come alive in the imagination. A biographer might feel wonder seeing the real Lichtenstein castle from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, or a sci-fi fan might hike New Zealand’s mountains behind Lord of the Rings. Economists say the effect works through “pull” factors (the destination’s qualities) and “push” factors (the individual’s desires sparked by the film).
Conventional wisdom holds that positive portrayals help tourism – nice landscapes, friendly characters, that sort of thing. But Borat flips that. In academic terms, Borat is a case of negative film tourism. Most studies focus on “heroic” or romanticized film images, but recent research acknowledges that even “villainous” or satirical portrayals can stimulate curiosity. A 2024 review notes that while admiration for positive characters tends to drive travel choices, there are examples of people drawn by darker or controversial characters too. Think of Dracula tours in Romania: the vampire is a villain, yet it attracts tourists. Similarly, Borat is a satirical villain of sorts – arrogant, ignorant, grotesque – yet people are intrigued.
Scholar Graeme Prentice phrases it well: most film tourism is “serendipitous,” where a visitor’s interest is a byproduct of media exposure, not a planned campaign. In Kazakhstan’s case, Borat made viewers say, “Wait, what is Kazakhstan? I wonder!” This curiosity – the “push” factor – overcame any “pull” incentive (since the film doesn’t show Kazakh scenery at all). Studies on Borat specifically find that awareness did spike: international media coverage after the film reached millions worldwide. Pratt’s 2015 paper summarized it: Borat “raised awareness of the country as a tourist destination”. In other words, it put Kazakhstan on the map (literally and mentally).
Unlike, say, Lord of the Rings (where fans traipse around New Zealand to see the Shire), Borat’s film does not depict real places in Kazakhstan. The effect is almost the opposite: Borat portrays his homeland as a Kafka-esque hellscape of backward traditions. So the question is why anyone would visit. The answer lies in contrasting stereotypes with reality. By ridiculing Kazakh stereotypes, the film ironically invited questions about the truth. Modern travellers often seek authenticity: What is Borat hiding from us? They want to correct their misconceptions. This dynamic makes Borat a special case: it is negative imagery causing a positive discovery journey.
Scholars have noted this paradox explicitly. In academic analyses, Borat is often cited as “a film-induced tourism gone wrong” – meaning it doesn’t fit the classic model. Pratt’s 2015 study called it an “extreme case,” calculating short-term tourism growth (6.4%) but cautioning that it was largely accidental and not a sustainable strategy. More generally, theoretical work highlights emotion in travel decisions. For instance, research shows that even harsh or ridiculous portrayals can stir strong emotions (surprise, curiosity) that increase place attachment. Kazakhstan’s story illustrates “serendipitous tourism”: most travelers don’t go because of strategic marketing, but because Borat made Kazakhstan unexpectedly “known” in pop culture.
In short, film tourism theory explains the Borat case as a unique blend of curiosity-driven travel and strategic marketing pivot. It teaches that any publicity can be an opportunity, and that film images – good or bad – alter perceptions and travel motivations in complex ways.
Today’s Kazakhstan is trying to define itself not by Borat but by its real wonders. Here’s how the country looks to a visitor in the 2020s:
Kazakhstan’s Borat saga offers a surprising textbook for travel promoters. Here are key takeaways:
As one diplomat aptly concluded, Borat taught Kazakhs “we should be sharing the pride in what it really means to be a Kazakh far more widely.” That line captures the ultimate lesson: authenticity, pride, and smart storytelling can turn even the strangest twists into triumphs.
Q: Did Borat really boost tourism to Kazakhstan?
A: Surprisingly, yes – to an extent. After the 2006 film’s release, Kazakhstan saw a significant jump in foreign interest. Visa applications from some countries grew about 10-fold, and international tourist spending rose roughly 6.4% in the following year. By one estimate, the first film even doubled arrivals in just a few years. However, tourism was still a small part of the economy (around 1.6–1.8% of GDP), so the increase was notable but not transformational. In other words, Borat did raise awareness (one official thanked Cohen for the “free advertising”), but the long-term growth depends on other factors like infrastructure and promotion.
Q: Was Kazakhstan offended by Borat’s portrayal?
A: Initially, very much so. The Kazakh government banned the film in 2006 and denounced it as racist. Officials launched ad campaigns to counter Borat’s claims. Many citizens were hurt by the crude stereotypes. But over time, official attitudes softened. By 2012 the foreign minister publicly thanked Borat for boosting tourism, and by 2020 the country even turned Borat’s catchphrase into its marketing slogan. Today, many Kazakhs view Borat as a satire with no basis in reality, reminding themselves that “it was a comedy, not a documentary”. There are still critics (especially among older Kazakhs and diaspora groups) who find Borat offensive, but the overall trend has been one of acceptance and humor.
Q: Is Kazakhstan’s “Very Nice” tourism campaign for real?
A: Absolutely. The 2020 “Very nice” campaign was an official government-backed effort, not a viral meme gone wild. The slogan comes straight from Borat’s catchphrase, repurposed by Kazakhstan’s tourism officials. They released several professionally produced ads showing real Kazakh scenery and people, each ending with the English phrase “Very nice!” as a playful nod. Government spokespeople, like Deputy Chairman Kairat Sadvakassov, announced the campaign publicly and gave interviews about it. The videos (tourists hiking, tasting local dishes, exploring cities) are genuine promotions. So yes, it’s official marketing—designed to get international media coverage while showcasing authentic Kazakh attractions.
Q: Is Borat banned in Kazakhstan today?
A: No. The original Borat film was banned when it first came out in 2006, but that ban has lapsed. By the mid-2010s, copies could be found online in Kazakhstan like anywhere else. The sequel Borat 2 was not officially banned. In fact, officials took a hands-off approach to the new film, focusing instead on their tourism message. So Kazakh citizens can legally see both movies now. Of course, their popularity is limited compared to the days of controversy; today Borat is more a historical footnote than current news in Kazakhstan.
Q: Aside from Borat, what is Kazakhstan really famous for?
A: The country is famous for its vast size and variety. It boasts the Tian Shan and Altai mountains, where visitors ski or hike; it has the huge steppe (the “Great Steppe”) with nomadic culture; it shares the Aral Sea coastline (and sad environmental history); and has modern cities like Astana (formerly Nur-Sultan) with futuristic architecture. Kazakhstan was key on the Silk Road: travelers can see ancient sites like Turkestan’s Mausoleum of Khoja Ahmed Yassaui (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) and trek along Silk Road ruins. For nature lovers there are national parks with wild horses and mountains, and desert oddities like the Singing Dune in Altyn-Emel Park. Pop culture now highlights sports heroes: boxer Gennady Golovkin and rally driver Yerzhan Dauletbekov. And yes, it’s the world’s ninth-largest country by area – the playground of the steppes. In short, Kazakhstan sells itself on natural beauty, history, and a blend of modern and traditional culture – a far cry from Borat’s crude caricature.
Q: What is Kazakhstan’s Tourism Development Plan?
A: The government has a formal plan to grow tourism called the State Program for Tourism 2020–2025. It aims to greatly expand visitor numbers and economic impact. Key targets include increasing annual tourists to about 10 million and raising tourism’s GDP share to around 8% by 2025. They plan to invest billions in airports, hotels, and local tour programs, and to promote Kazakh culture (music, festivals, historical sites) abroad. For example, Lonely Planet listed Kazakhstan among “Best in Travel 2021,” reflecting this push. So Kazakhstan is making long-term bets (investment, visa changes, marketing) to ensure the interest sparked by media like Borat turns into sustainable tourism growth.
Q: Why is boxer Gennady Golovkin mentioned with Kazakh tourism?
A: Gennady “GGG” Golovkin is one of Kazakhstan’s most famous citizens – a three-time middleweight boxing world champion. He has become a kind of unofficial ambassador for the country. Media have noted that more foreigners now recognize the name “Golovkin” than “Borat” when asked about Kazakhstan. As such, Kazakh tourism officials sometimes invoke Golovkin as a positive symbol: fans might travel to see his training gym in Almaty, or simply connect Kazakhstan with athletic success rather than satirical jokes. He represents modern Kazakhstan’s rising global profile.
