THE ROLE OF THE WORD IN THE CONSTITUTION OF THE REPUBLIC OF UZBEKISTAN

Qulliyeva Feruza Qosimovna
Student of Termez State University

The first period of reform was marked by the adoption of the Constitution of the Republic of Uzbekistan, the main body after Uzbekistan achieved its independence. The Constitution is not only a legal document, but also the main foundation of society and its main weapon in the official Square. It should not be viewed only as a set of laws, since the Constitution is a bold step directly related to the life of every citizen, in the way of progressing the country and managing it with Justice. In the Explanatory Dictionary of the Uzbek language “Constitution Latin constitutio-designation, decision, appointment, legalization. The Basic Law of the state, which has a high legal force, is the basis of all current laws,” explained.
As we read the Constitution, we can come across many foreign intrusive words.

The use of these words is not just a coincidence. A legal document requires, first of all, to show accuracy, to be simple and equally understandable to all. In this sense, the words of appropriation contribute to the representation of terminological accuracy in the Constitution, as well as the enrichment of the lexical layer of the Uzbek language. We read the Constitution, we can come across many foreign intrusive words. The use of these words is not just a coincidence. A legal document requires, first of all, to show accuracy, to be simple and equally understandable to all. In this sense, the words of appropriation contribute to the representation of terminological accuracy in the Constitution, as well as the enrichment of the lexical layer of the Uzbek language. The use of borrowed words ensures that the law complies with international standards and accurately and clearly conveys its legal content.
We can divide words of assimilation into two parts according to their use in our language:

Active mastering-words that are actively used today, the content of which is understandable to all, have become the main terms of the legal language.

For example: democracy – (Greek “demos “ – people,” kratos “ – power) the freedom and equality of citizens is enshrined in the Constitution and laws, the forms of people’s power are established in practice and a specific political system; people’s power; Republic – (Latin for” common work“,” people’s work”) the form of government in which the Supreme state power belongs to the Authority (President or parliament); President – (Latin “prae” – ahead, “sedere” – to sit, to lead) a form of government in which the Supreme state power belongs to a body of power (President or parliament)elected for a certain period; a state with such a form of Government; article – (Arabic “subject”, “basis”) an independent branch of official document, complex, law and the like, separated by a number or letter; Parliament – (Latin “parlare” – to talk, talk) a higher representative and legislative body, which is drawn up in

Inactive introspections are words that are little used in everyday speech, difficult to understand, characteristic mainly of formal-legal texts.

For example: ratification – (Latin “ratificatio “ – approval, approval) approval of an international treaty or convention by a body of Supreme state power, to be legally enforced in the same countries; monopoly – (Greek” monos-singular, “poleo” – sell)
an enterprise or association that is the sole owner of the production and sale of a product or service; a state of secluded dominance in the market; a speaker – (English “speaker“) is the chairman of Parliament or chairman of the chamber in the parliaments of a number of countries (including Uzbekistan); a denunciation – (French” denocer” – declare, inform) that a state.

These words, which are found in the Constitution, are not the sum of phrasal terms. These words, recognized and actively used in the international arena during today’s globalization, have had time to become a mirror that shows the political level of each country. These words, which are found in the Constitution, are not the sum of phrasal terms. These words, recognized and actively used in the international arena during today’s globalization, have had time to become a mirror that shows the political level of each country. We cannot deny foreign inflected terms, because certain acquisition terms are so complete with their legal content that its complete replacement with a national language alternative can lead to a transformation of the content and purpose being expressed and misunderstandings.

For this reason, the application of the words of appropriation in our Constitution is determined by the need to accurately and clearly reflect deeply thought out and legal concepts.
In conclusion, the place and level of appropriation words used in the Constitution are very important. While active appropriations have been absorbed into the life of society, serving to increase the legal literacy of the population, while at the same time enriching the language layer, inactive appropriation words are an integral, unified and necessary part of legal text and speech, through which they ensure the accuracy and consistency of the content in the laws of the Constitution.

The Scales of Dawn

In loving memory of human rights lawyer Khosrow Alikordi

Iran breathes deep in shadowed hues,

where Injustice holds its heavy chain,

Binding spirits, dimming views,

and hope becomes a whispered pain.

But hark! A stirring, strong and clear,

a call for balance; sharp and bright,

to dry the marginalized tear,

and bring the silenced into light.

Justice angel walks on the earth as a warrior bold

with eyes that hold the sun’s own fire

a story waiting to unfold,

fueled by a deep and unquenched desire.

Her armor forged from Truth’s own gleam,

her voice; a trumpet, clear and strong,

to break the mold, to shatter dream

of ancient wrongs that linger long.

For every door held shut by fear,

for every heart that knows despair,

she brings the promise, ever near,

a breath of freedom in the air.

With steady hand, she lifts the scales

to weigh the hidden and meet the need

until the day that wrongness fails,

and Love and Equity take seed.

Fogbound

The day we laid that cold crust of earth over your body, something in me went missing. I watched the people crying around the grave and couldn’t understand why they mourned someone they saw perhaps once a year. Then I looked at my mother. Silent, glittering in her overdressed elegance, as if she wanted you to envy her for still being alive. Perhaps it was her revenge for all those years spent chasing your approval and failing. After she divorced you, she drifted away from me too. I only wish it had happened sooner; her presence or absence never changed much.

Back home, the smell of grass and that fog-soaked cemetery settled in my mind. Objects lost themselves in that inner fog. I hunted for keys already in my pocket. In the narrow hallway between our two rooms, tasks slipped from my memory, and every cup of coffee went cold. Food tasted dull. I checked the stove, the doors, the water taps over and over. I fought life so hard that numbness wrapped itself around me. I went to bed exhausted and woke even more worn, my body nothing but bruised fatigue.

When the routine finally defeated me, the real battle began: the one inside. First came denial, the refusal to admit the weight of your absence. Then collapse. I cried, but the wound in my soul stayed hollow. And so, I began to write. The very work you never wanted for me. Not for you, who are gone and will remain gone, but for the version of you still living inside me.

I built stories about you, replayed memories. Then I realized the one inside me was not you at all. He was the father I had wanted. His face resembled yours through a softening veil of mist, but he was kind. He didn’t wait for me to fail. He didn’t frown or correct or sigh in disappointment. His small, cutting smiles were gone. I found memories that had never existed. In one, I had made a mistake, and the imagined you placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. You consoled me. Praised me. Forgave me. Touched me with a tenderness I had never known. Father.

Then, as if waking abruptly, another battle began.
The first fight was with you. I pictured your aged body in the garden, the small red trowel in your hand. I sat you across from me on a chair, just as you used to sit in silence tending your flowers. No words, no criticism, no energy for long arguments.

I asked the image of you whether you had ever loved me. I cast you as guilty, myself as righteous. Your head was bowed while I hurled my anger and sorrow at your face. Why had you never praised me, even when I was promoted in the job you had insisted, I pursue? I showed you every wound. The day you left home. My mother clutching the phone, crying as she whispered about your selfishness. Her words sank into me, the same way they had sunk into her years before. And the night someone burned all my childhood photos. I always thought it was you. But no. It was her.

I stared at the cup of cold coffee in my shaking hand. My dry mouth. My reflection glaring back at me from the porcelain. That face was terrifyingly familiar. Yours. You had lived inside me all along. Fear seized the cup and shattered it against the floor. For a moment, time perched on the broken shards. The sound cracked something in me. Shame replaced anger. I felt a sudden tenderness for the old, silent man in my memories. He wasn’t the one who had hurt me. The face that had wounded me was right there in the fragments: the knotted brows, the thin white strands at the temples, that smug, dismissive curl of the lips. It was me. I was you, and you were the small boy who kept his eyes on the ground.

When I could breathe again, the second battle began. The one with myself. Had I ever loved you? Ever understood you? Had I ever been brave enough to ask to be touched, even once?

There was only one way to find an answer. I went through the old photo albums, damp with the smell of mold. Each page a tether to the past. My ninth birthday: my mother cooking your favorite dish, not mine. I still don’t know whether she feared you or wanted to force her way into your heart. My graduation photos from the field you had chosen for me. The New Year’s pictures smiling over a buried argument.

Anger. Then grief. Then contempt. Then something softer. Until I reached thirty-five years back. The winter day I slipped on the ice. My cheeks numb, my hands cracked and burning from the cold. You lifted me up, brushed me off. I searched your eyes for disapproval. Instead, you knelt so I could climb onto your back. I still feel the warmth of your shoulders on my frozen skin. You put a bandage on my scraped palms. You told me growing up always hurts.

I framed that photo of my bandaged hand and placed it where the missing piece of me used to be. The hollow in my chest began to fill, building a fragile bridge of memories and faint smiles. I turned the pages again and looked at the child in those pictures. Why had I never seen all those small smiles before?

Father, I wish you could have freed yourself from the stern man you had chained yourself to.

Achieving Success in Professional Communication – A Core Competency of the Modern Individual

Today’s globalized world demands not only rapid technological development but also clear, effective, and meaningful communication between people. No matter the profession — whether a teacher, doctor, entrepreneur, or an aspiring specialist — one cannot reach their full potential without mastering professional communication. In many cases, success begins not with knowledge itself, but with the ability to express that knowledge correctly.

Communication – A Reflection of Professionalism

How a specialist speaks, their tone, and the clarity with which they present their thoughts all define their level of professionalism. Very often, a successful negotiation, a solved problem, or gained trust is the direct result of skillful communication. Modern work culture requires every employee not only to perform their tasks but also to cooperate effectively within a team and build constructive dialogue with clients.

Key Principles of Professional Communication

1. Clarity and Conciseness

Unnecessary expressions and deviations from the topic prolong conversations and weaken the outcome. The best speech is purposeful, brief, and meaningful.

2. The Culture of Listening

Many rush to express their own views, yet true success lies in the ability to listen. Hearing the other person fully and demonstrating understanding builds strong trust.

3. Ethics and Respect

Tone of voice, body language, and forms of address are important in professional interactions. Communication built on respect eases even the toughest situations.

4. Conflict Management

A professional does not escalate tension when problems arise. Instead, they analyze the situation and guide the discussion toward constructive solutions.

5. Adhering to Digital Communication Etiquette

Emails, messaging apps, and online meetings have become an inseparable part of work life. Writing professional emails, giving clear responses, and following online etiquette are all signs of true professionalism.

Why Is Professional Communication So Important Today?

Because in a rapidly changing labor market, the main factor that distinguishes individuals is how they present themselves. Strong communication skills:

provide a competitive advantage during job applications,

strengthen respect within teams,

enhance leadership potential,

help in making correct decisions during complex situations.

Conclusion

Professional communication is not just “speaking beautifully” — it is the foundation of every decision, partnership, and achievement. A person who can express their thoughts clearly, listen respectfully, and engage in cultured dialogue will succeed not only at work but in all aspects of life.

Improving communication skills is an important investment in ourselves, for those who know how to work with people are never deprived of opportunities.

Termez State University, Faculty of Uzbek Philology, Group 124, Journalism Department, Kucharov Bakhodir

Nothing Matters

Help me understand 
why nothing matters.
Repeatedly, I listen to
a joke that is not funny.
Maybe my ears do not
work. Maybe I am drunk,
too drunk, and my mind,
my poor mind is gone. I
could barely hear my own 
thoughts. In my head
I hear dogs barking and
a tarantula dancing and
time beating backward.
I grow tired of sound. If
a tree falls, I cannot hear
it when I see it drop in
front of me. In my head
an orange sunset swallows 
a burning plane whole.
I hear my heart racing.
I pretend my heart has 
stopped. Believe me
that nothing matters.
When I think back, I 
could never find my
footing. The ground
broke my fall. Above
the sky stood witness
all day and all of the night.

Kicking Stones

I will not go along
the road without kicking 
stones that are in the way.
I kicked one so far that
it was not seen again.
I believe it went up
to the clouds. I think it
put a hole in the sun.
I believe it brought down
a satellite. The others
only exploded right
after I kicked them,
too brittle for this world.

Go Nowhere

If I could anywhere, 
I want to go nowhere.
With these eyes as
my windows, I could
see far and wide. 
I could see inside 
myself. I could hear
everything I have 
ever forgotten. I
can see the truth
which is basically 
nothing depending 
on what you believe.
I can see nowhere.
It is where I want to go.

See the Mountains

I was born where I could not
see the mountains from the
street I grew up from birth to
seven years of age. When I
moved across the border, I
saw rivers, places named after
words I did not understand,
and I saw the mountains from
the street where I lived. I had
to relearn the alphabet, to 
learn the new words, the new 
language I would use to fit in,
to get by, to make a life, a
living in this country. On a
bright early morning I saw 
people who came to this
country like me, people who
worked hard to make a living,
to feed their family, being taken
away by masked goons. I could
see the mountains where I
stood. I wondered if I went there,
if I would be safer than living
in suburban or the urban streets.

My Suits

My suits have not been used for years.
They hang in the closet worn by a man
who was more slender in those times
the suit came off the hangar. My body
has transformed over the years, been
on the operating table, cut into to get
the cancer out to allow me to live one
more decade if the fates will allow. In
this daily existence I have measured 
my steps, counted the minutes, and
worked at a mind-drudging job to pay
the bills, care for my family, and help
those less fortunate than me. My suits 
gather dust, speechless, non-judgmental
in the same place I left them. I would
need to shed twenty, thirty, fifty pounds
to wear them well, to button at least
one button, or maybe two. My ties
have suffered from the same neglect.

It’s Time

  
The end 

Of Thanksgiving

Means that

It’s time

To start thinking creatively

About turkey sandwiches.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “On the Rocks.”

My Mother Tongue

An undying flame in the winds,

Unaffected by the passing years.

Among all the languages of this world,

My mother tongue shall never disappear.

Babur ruled over Hindustan,

Yet his language never died.

He longed for Andijan’s dialect,

Its melons he dearly missed.

Through centuries my Turkic tongue

Was polished like a shining diamond.

It witnessed Mongols, Tsarist Russia,

Yet it never broke, never fell.

— Khasanova Aziza Kumushbek qizi,

Student of Tashkent University of Economics and Pedagogy