As the world examines the conflict of cultures that followed Columbu's landing in the "New World" 500 years ago, a conflict between fading Soviet rule and a reawakened Tajikistan is also being played out halfway around the earth.


But Tajikistan's troubles, including a civil war in the south of the country, stem less from the problem of clan rivalry unleashed by the departure of the Soviets as than from a more basic question: What is Tajikistan?


Tajikistan never existed as an independent state before the Soviets dreamed it up in 1924. The Tajik tribes had been ruled by Central Asian khanates for centuries. When the Soviets introduced the Western-styled borders of a modern state, it was an idea that had little relation to the wishes of the inhabitants, who still saw themselves as Garms, Pamiris, Kulyabis and Vanchis.


Now, as Tajikistan spirals out of control, perhaps the least offensive outcome would be that it continue to splinter, with regional control supplanting that of the present capital, Dushanbe. This would probably break the country into four regions: Kulyab, Leninabad, Pamir and Garm-Vanch. In so doing, the tribes of Tajikistan wo be rejecting the idea of a Tajik state which, after all, was never more than a Kremlin fantasy.


Consider the current war. Though suspicious of the Garms, Pamiris and Vanchis that lived in Kurgan-Tyube, the Kulyabis only attacked after a Garm-packed coalition of clans, excluding Kulyab, seized power in Dushanbe and installed half-Pamir Akbarshah Iskandarov as president.


Tajikistan's meandering border, a veritable jigsaw-puzzle piece wedged between Afghanistan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, only complicates the picture. It is possible, for example, to travel northeast from Termez, Uzbekistan, entering Tajikistan, then pass into Kyrgyzstan, only to pass back into Tajikistan, then back into Uzbekistan and then finally back into Kyrgyzstan -- all travelling in a straight line.


One of the most startling things about Tajikistan is how little effect Soviet rule has had. I spent a night in the rural home of a Tajik family and, except for electricity and the television, I might have been in Afghanistan. There was no furniture, just layers of carpets and bedspreads across the floor. In a delightfully eerie moment, I was led by lamplight past mud buildings to an outdoor toilet. The feeling was of antiquity.


Tajik culture, with its language, colorful dress, spicy foods, exotic music and Persian customs, has survived a Russian occupation every bit as brutal as that of the 16th century Spaniards in the Americas. But as long as tribalism continues to be part of this culture, ruling Tajikistan from Dushanbe may be as untenable as ruling Afghanistan from Kabul.