Traffic congestion is a major problem in urban centres around the world, as vehicle emissions pollute air quality and cause significant environmental and health issues. Central Asian governments have been slow to adapt to this reality. Although local authorities in several major cities are trying to turn the tide by investing in prestigious rail projects, including light rail and metro, urban transit options remain limited overall. A Novastan review of urban public transport developments in Central Asia.

Twice a day during peak hours, Dushanbe, the capital city of Tajikistan, grinds to a halt as its broad Soviet-era boulevards are clogged with traffic. The city faces significant congestion issues, exacerbated by a population that has doubled since gaining independence from the USSR in 1991. Car ownership has increased even faster, doubling over the past decade. Existing infrastructure is unable to keep up with this rapid growth and resulting environmental problems caused by vehicle emissions have severely impacted air quality in Dushanbe.

To deal with the challenges of rapid urbanisation, city authorities are exploring options to build a metro system. Domestic know-how on building this infrastructure is virtually non-existent, which is why the government has reached out to South Korea. In 2022, Tajikistan’s transport ministry signed a memorandum of understanding with the South Korean National Railway Corporation to assess the feasibility of the project. Novastan reported earlier that the ministry expects to start detailed planning for the construction of what would be Dushanbe’s first metro line in mid-2025.

Urban rail has clear benefits over, for example, buses or trolleybuses, in that trams and metros are more effective in reducing traffic congestion and air pollution, and have a much higher capacity than most other modes of transport. Moreover, they are a sign of progress, which is why many urban rail developments are often also prestige projects. However, a metro system cannot replace city buses and other less flashy forms of public transportation, particularly in areas where building urban rail is not economically viable.

Trolleybuses – an endangered species?

In Naryn, a provincial capital in central Kyrgyzstan, for example, local lawmakers recently decided to dismantle their city’s trolleybus system. Located at an altitude of just over two thousand meters, Naryn boasted the highest trolleybus network in the world. Hence it was a source of local pride and a tourist attraction among public transport aficionados. However, due to the deteriorating condition of the infrastructure, as well as high maintenance costs, the city council voted to discontinue service. As a replacement, there are plans to purchase ten diesel buses, which will obviously contribute to air pollution. 

The decision to abandon the Naryn trolleybus system follows last year’s announcement that Bishkek would do away with its large trolleybus fleet. A recent longread by the Kazakh media outlet Vlast highlights that this decision faced significant backlash, as Kyrgyzstan’s government had received long-term financial support from the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD) to upgrade the network. For reasons unclear, the local authorities opted to replace the fleet with new electric buses, a transition co-financed by the Asian Development Bank (ADB). To prevent violating the credit agreement with the EBRD, “Bishkek’s mayor’s office said it paid off the EBRD loan, essentially making the city pay two loans for one mode of public transport since the trolleybuses were halted on November 8.” 

Read more on Novastan: Last stop – Bishkeks trolleybuses on the brink of extinction (in German)

Authorities decided to transfer most of the old trolleybus fleet to other cities in Kyrgyzstan, a move many critics have called “a distraction for the inadequacy of the whole project.” Vlast already reported that the transfer of these buses “greatly exceeds the local demand and the capacity for local infrastructure to absorb them.” Still, around one hundred trolleybuses were transported to Osh, the country’s second-largest city, which now operates the country’s only remaining trolleybus network. There was also talk of moving buses and infrastructure, such as electrical substations, to Batken, Kara-Balta, and Tokmok – none of which have any active trolleybus lines. Naryn also received six trolleybuses, even though these proved no longer needed after the recent city council decision to permanently abandon the system. In the end, most vehicles will likely end up rusting away in local storages. Meanwhile, Bishkek activists have launched a legal effort to preserve the city’s trolleybus network from total dismantling.

A UN commission estimated that trolleybuses cost cities forty percent less than operating electric buses. Yet, local governments in Central Asia are forced to improvise if they wish to take back control over public transport in their cities. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, funding for municipal transportations systems virtually evaporated. The decline of public transit gave rise to privately-owned alternatives such as informally-operated minibuses, commonly known as marshrutkas. These minibuses largely followed well-established bus routes, but have the additional advantage of being able to navigate narrow and bumpier roads in city suburbs and other outlying neighbourhoods, something which trolleybuses obviously cannot. In short, the marshrutkas offer far better service that people are willing to pay for.

Read more on Novastan: Change through mobility – the marshrutka project (in German)

Another challenge to urban public transport in Central Asia is the rise of ride-hailing apps, such as YandexGo. In comparison to other intra-city transit options, ridesharing apps generally offer greater convenience and comfort. An article by The Diplomat explains how in cities and towns not yet serviced by YandexGo, taxi services which charge fares based on a standardised meter have grown in popularity. “To utilize these services, customers have to phone a call center, where they are connected to an operator who asks where they are currently located, where they want to go, and other logistical questions like number of passengers or luggage needs. The operator then connects the caller directly to a driver, who asks many of the same questions but with more detail, and usually will give an estimated wait time.”

The return of the tram

But not only trolleybuses have fallen victim to the erosion of public transit in Central Asia. Trams have also grown increasingly rare. Tashkent, for example, had one of the biggest tram networks in the former Soviet Union until it was gradually dismantled in the early 21st century. The last route closed down in 2016 and most trams were transported to Samarkand, where one year later – in 2017 – a ‘new’ tram system opened using much of the old Tashkent tram infrastructure. Meanwhile, in Tashkent, the authorities already seem to regret their decision to dismantle their once great tram network. According to the Uzbek news outlet Kun.uz, a plan for bringing back tram service in Tashkent was agreed upon during President Shavkat Mirziyoyev’s recent visit to France on March 12, with the French firm Alstom reportedly set to construct a nearly ten kilometre long tram line.

There are only a handful of active tram networks left in Central Asia, most of which are in dire need of maintenance. In Öskemen, formerly known as Ust-Kamenogorsk, the unofficial capital of eastern Kazakhstan, tram operations were suspended in 2018 as the operator went bankrupt. Yet, with the help of the regional government, operations could be resumed later that year, after a number of old Almaty trams were transferred to Öskemen. Infrastructure repair works have since begun, and, in 2022, an order was placed for additional rolling stock at a Belarussian firm. 

Up north, the city of Pavlodar boasts the largest tram system in Kazakhstan. The city successfully navigated the post-Soviet collapse of public transport in Central Asia, and authorities are even exploring options to expand the network. In doing so, the EBRD announced in 2024 that it would provide a loan to the Pavlodar tram management company to fund the purchase of battery-powered trams capable of operating without overhead catenary lines, thereby lowering infrastructure maintenance costs. 

Also in the city of Temirtau, home to the largest steel factory in Kazakhstan, new Chinese-made trams were recently commissioned into service after a brief suspension of operations following a series of overhead line thefts. The city’s single tram line is now operated by JSC Qarmet, the owner of the steel plant, and mainly serves to transport employees to and from the factory. However, the new trams may not meet with approval from everyone. In an interview with a local news website, users complained about poor visibility from the windows. A director of one of the companies involved in the recommissioning of the Temirtau tramline wittingly replied that “Temirtau is beautiful in its own way in the dark, so it’s better not to look at it” – a joke referring to the city’s notorious reputation as one of the ugliest and most polluted cities in Kazakhstan. 

Visions of modernity: light rail & metro

All jokes aside, public investments in the region’s few remaining tram networks are rare. Instead, city authorities across Central Asia have abandoned existing systems without providing proper alternatives, forcing people into overcrowded city buses or privately-owned marshrutkas. But now that urban rail seems to gain traction in Central Asia, regional governments appear to prefer light rail and metro options, both of which are generally more expensive and more complex to construct, operate, and maintain than trams.

Currently, only Tashkent and Almaty have metro systems. In Tashkent, construction of the first line started in 1972, six years after a devastating earthquake had leveled most of the city. Since then, the network has expanded to four lines, around fifty stations and an annual ridership of several hundred million. There are a couple of plans for further expansion, and the construction of an important circle line is currently ongoing. For those passionate about urban rail, the Tashkent metro is an absolute must-see. It is the archetype of urban rail in Central Asia. Most Soviet-era stations are lavishly designed and decorated, with the architecture and decor of each station reflecting its name. 

By contrast, the Almaty metro consists of a single line. Although construction started in the late 1980s, the newly independent government of Kazakhstan was unable to finish the project after funds from Moscow dried up following the collapse of the USSR. Construction resumed in the 2000s, and most of the Almaty tram network was disassembled in anticipation of the metro’s opening in 2011. In retrospect, a strange decision considering the fact that the tram lines followed different routes than the new metro line, had way more stops, and hence would have been a great supplement to the metro system. Similar to Tashkent, there are ambitious plans to revive the Almaty tram – albeit now as a light rail.  

This year, the region will also see the long-awaited opening of the Astana light rail, or light metro, connecting the city’s airport with the main train station. Construction of this system started back in 2011, but was put on hold multiple times because of problems with funding and a corruption scandal, in which “officials and Astana LRT [light rail transit] executives had inflated contracts and embezzled the difference, which a court later heard ran to 5.8 billion tenge ($13 million at current exchange rates).” For many years, a series of massive concrete pillars stood as silent reminders of the unfinished project, until in 2023, Kazakhstan’s President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev ordered it to be completed. Meanwhile, the Kazakh news outlet Orda.kz reports that the search for those involved in the embezzlement of public funds is still ongoing.

The crucial role of regional governments

In short, most problems related to public transportation in Central Asia are the result of poor planning and haphazard decision-making. Regional governments have largely failed to take back control over public transit in the wake of the collapse of the Soviet Union. Although in some major cities, such as Dushanbe, there is discussion about developing modern light rail and metro systems, basic public transport options, such as (trolley)buses, remain inadequate. In fact, in many cities, big and small, these services are still being whittled away. 

Apart from such infrastructure-related issues, a World Bank specialist concluded that the poor state of public transit in Central Asian cities is also in large part “due to regulated fixed fares (which are insufficient to meet operating expenses), a high number of fare exemptions for multiple categories of people, and the inability to provide state subsidies on a stable basis.” As such, local authorities are not only part of the problem – they also hold the key to improving urban mobility. 

Text and photos by Julian Postulart

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The post Navigating the gridlock: Central Asia’s struggle with urban public transit appeared first on Novastan English.

Over thirty years after the Soviet Union’s collapse, colonial influences persist in Kazakhstan. Russian remains widely spoken and serves as the primary language for interethnic communication. As language is a vital symbol of national identity, the enduring linguistic prominence of Russian poses a significant challenge to fully decolonising Kazakh identity. However, the invasion of Ukraine has spurred a young, urban middle class to confront these imperial remnants by reclaiming their native language.

Russia’s colonial war against Ukraine has sent shockwaves throughout Central Asia. Moscow’s emphasis on historical, cultural and linguistic connections makes other former Soviet republics feel increasingly uncomfortable. 

Especially in Kazakhstan, home to a sizable ethnic Russian population, many fear that their country could be next on the Kremlin’s list. These concerns are not unfounded. Since the start of the war in Ukraine, Russian propagandists have repeatedly voiced thin-veiled threats about annexing parts of their southern neighbour. 

Moreover, after partial mobilisation was announced in Russia in September 2022, hundreds of thousands of predominantly young men fled across the border into Kazakhstan. Their arrival has exacerbated existing concerns, and magnified domestic tensions between social groups that identify themselves differently.  

Although over the past three decades, Kazakhstan’s government has attempted to forge a new national identity, Russian influence remains. Since the conquest of the Kazakh steppe in the 19th century by tsarist forces, the lands and the people inhabiting the territory of modern-day Kazakhstan were shaped by imperial rule. First by the Russian Empire, then by the Soviet Union. 

In the 20th century, forced collectivisation uprooted traditional lifestyles and led to famine. Countless people flocked to towns and cities in a desperate search for food and work, places which themselves were colonial spaces, dominated by imperial infrastructure and buildings. Rapid urbanisation and industrialisation have scarred the landscape and still cause pollution and environmental and health problems to this very day. 

Russia’s linguistic legacy

But apart from these more abstract, postcolonial realities, there is the pertinent yet controversial issue of language. In the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, many have grown painfully aware of the influence Russia still exerts over Kazakhstan through language. 

Over thirty years after independence, Russian remains the country’s main interethnic language. Political scientist Dossym Satpayev, in a piece for Chatham House, writes that Russification policies in the colonial era suppressed the Kazakh language so thoroughly that most forgot how to speak their native tongue. As the de facto official language of the USSR, speaking Russian was key to social mobility. 

After the collapse of the Soviet Union, the benefits of learning the Kazakh language remained negligible. Although Kazakh is the state language, and Russian a mere ‘official’ language, in reality, Russian-speakers still enjoyed significant privileges and advantages. Until recently, insufficient knowledge of spoken Kazakh was hardly considered a problem, as Russian proficiency was enough to live a comfortable life, especially in the north and in the cities, where most of Kazakhstan’s Russian-speaking population is concentrated.

In education, Russian has been more advantageous for increasing the possibilities to study at renowned schools and universities in Russia, partly because of the availability of a broader range of academic resources. Similarly, career-wise, Russian speakers have traditionally had more job opportunities. By contrast, Kazakh was viewed as backward and inferior, as sociologist Azamat Junisbai remembers how, while growing up, he associated the Kazakh language exclusively as rural, uncultured and of low status.

Read more on Novastan: “Alaqan” – Aida Adilbek’s decolonial documentary cinema

Fear for antagonising Moscow

Initially, Kazakhstan’s government made little effort to support the elevation of the Kazakh language. Policymakers were concerned that such a stance would feed into rising Kazakh nationalism, which in turn could endanger the country’s inter-ethnic stability. 

So, from the 1990s onwards, it chose to counter early national-patriotic movements by prioritising the development of a Kazakhstani civic identity. This civic identity, epitomised by the slogan ‘unity in diversity,’ sought to rally all people of Kazakhstan around the flag of the newly independent republic, regardless of ethnicity. 

However, the main threat to inter-ethnic stability did not emanate from Kazakh nationalism, nor from the country’s sizable Russian minority. As a matter of fact, Astana’s stance on the issue was long guided by the fear that, should it have followed a more ethno-national course, Kazakhstan would have risked antagonising its northern neighbour. 

Demographics driving change

Meanwhile, it was increasingly difficult for the government to balance the national interest against grassroots calls for the strengthening of Kazakh ethnic identity. After independence, millions of Russians left Kazakhstan, dramatically changing the country’s demographic make-up. Kazakhs now form a clear majority. They are the country’s fastest–growing ethnic group, and their proportion of the total population is only expected to increase. 

Satpayev, in his contribution for Chatham House, argues that the strengthening of national-patriotic sentiments and movements is occurring organically. Based on demographic trends, support for a Kazakh ethnic identity will continue to grow, while the use of the Russian language is expected to decline.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine catalysed societal developments resulting from these demographic developments, which are shaping current and future political preferences. Not so long ago, the debate on national identity was quite marginal, predominantly talked about among small-circles of Kazakh-speaking intellectual elites. The war has caused this discussion to spillover into public domain, with an ever-increasing number of people rediscovering what it means to be Kazakh in the context of persistent colonial legacies.

Language as a decolonial tool

Language possibly is the most enduring bastion of Russian influence in Kazakhstan. In an episode of RFE/RL’s Majlis Podcast, sociologist Junisbai discusses how older generations primarily engage with Russian media, which makes them more susceptible to Russian propaganda. Consequently, the idea of so-called benevolent colonialism still is widespread among the elderly. Many believe that Kazakhstan owes much to foreign rule, such as industrialisation and modernisation. 

Read more on Novastan: Pressure from Russia increases on Central Asian media outlets

This sentiment is not shared with younger generations. They have no living memory of the Soviet Union, and seek to undo the final vestiges of Russian and Soviet colonialism in pursuit of a new Kazakh identity. For them, language is a tool for decolonisation. On the streets, for example, this is reflected in the growing popularity of fashion brand Qazaq Republic. This company, famous for its trendy clothing and other merchandise with patriotic Kazakh and English language slogans, owes much of its success to ongoing societal developments.

In an article by media outlet The Diplomat, Biybaris Seitak — founder of a popular Kazakh language Instagram channel Kazakh Bubble — says that the Russian invasion of Ukraine made many Kazakhs realise “that speaking Kazakh was a matter of national security.” The war has made them feel uncomfortable talking about decolonisation in the language of the former coloniser. 

Hence, Russia’s invasion caused many to put words into deeds. The popularity of Kazakh language schools and clubs has exploded, and Kazakhstan’s government has jumped the bandwagon by introducing new plans promoting the Kazakh language.

Even though President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev has stated that the proposed alphabet reform, which would see the transition of written Kazakh from Cyrcillic to a Latin-based script, should not be ‘rushed’, he has introduced several other plans for a more independent language policy. These include a mandatory Kazakh language test for people wanting to obtain citizenship, a draft plan for a new media law to increase the use of the Kazakh language, and education reforms aimed at boosting Kazakh proficiency. 

An unstoppable development

Yet, fears of backlash remain. The growing importance of Kazakh could alienate the non-Kazakh speaking population, such as the country’s still significant Russian minority. Satpayev, in his work for Chatham House, described that these people could feel ‘trapped’ or even discriminated against. A conflict of identities looms, heightening the risk of radicalisation and pro-Russian separatism which could trigger a response from Moscow.

Read more on Novastan: “An escalating manifestation of Russophobia” – Kazakhstan at the epicentre of an information war

Prior to the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russia used the perceived infringement of Russians’ rights abroad to intervene in neighbouring countries, either diplomatically, economically or militarily. However, chances of Russia invading Kazakhstan for the promotion of the Kazakh language are slim. Moscow is preoccupied on other fronts and, more importantly, it needs Kazakhstan for economic reasons, including for the import of dual-use goods that help Russia sustain its war effort against Ukraine. 

In short, neither Astana nor Moscow is in the position to stop the growing importance of the Kazakh language in Kazakhstan, even if they wanted to. The war in Ukraine and tensions with the West are currently constraining any meaningful Russian response. In parallel, demography is pushing Tokayev’s government ever-closer towards embracing a more ethno-centric national identity. What the future holds remains to be seen. Yet, as long as this geopolitical reality persists, the decolonisation of Kazakhstan is expected to continue. 

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

The post The Lexicon of Kazakh Decolonisation appeared first on Novastan English.

For many years, relations between Tajikistan and Uzbekistan have been fraught with tension. Some analysts even dubbed the ties between the two countries a Central Asian ‘cold war’. But luckily, things are slowly improving. The return of the Tashkent-Dushanbe night train is a testament to this bilateral thaw. The new rail service connecting both capitals is, in many ways, a miniature of the past, present, and future of Uzbek-Tajik relations. 

“Your phone, please”, one officer demands. As the only man in the kupe, a train compartment, the border guards summoned me into the corridor. Reluctantly I let the officer scroll through the pictures I took during my brief visit to Uzbekistan. Pornography, photos of government buildings, military installations – whatever he is looking for, the man finds none. 

As he returns my phone, some of his colleagues enter the train to look for contraband and other prohibited items. Luggage is thoroughly searched, as well as the train’s interior. Some ceiling panels are removed and part of the flooring is opened up to examine if anything is hidden underneath. 

Despite Uzbek authorities having relaxed customs procedures over the past years, the border crossings with Tajikistan remain an uncomfortable exception. But relations between the two countries have improved significantly over the past few years. Travelling aboard the direct Tashkent-Dushanbe night train shows the slow fruition of this regional detente.

15:47 – Tashkent

Some thirteen hours earlier, my travel companion and I boarded the train at Tashkent’s central station. It was mid-May and with temperatures well over thirty degrees Celsius, our kupe was unbearably hot. Although the ticket agent had promised us air-conditioning, the one in our wagon was not working this afternoon. With sweat dripping down my back, a young Tajik mother asked if I could help her store her large suitcase. 

Nodira and her toddler son would be our cabin companions for the night, travellig to Dushanbe for a family visit. Although Tajik by birth, Nodira often pendles between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan. Her husband owns a suitcase shop in Tashkent, yet she prefers the tranquil mountains of native Tajikistan over the hustle and bustle of the Uzbek capital. For a time, Nodira thought of running her own business as a professional make-up artist on Instagram, though it was no longer acceptable after becoming a married woman, she tells us. 

Ever since, Nodira has embraced a more conservative lifestyle, focusing on religion, her three children, and running the household. Tajik society is deeply patriarchal and gender roles remain traditional. However, for Nodira, social media has an important emancipatory function. It helps her learn a little English and connect with the outside world through her followers, mostly in Russian. In fact, she has become quite the influencer since our meeting on the sweltering night train. Thousands of people watch her videos in which she prepares classic Central Asian recipes in her kitchen. 

20:40 – Samarkand

Just after sunset, we made a brief call at Samarkand. The city’s magnificent architecture still reflects its historical significance as a leading centre of Persian civilisation. But Samarkand’s legacy is also highly contentious.

For centuries, the Tajik language – a variety of modern Persian – has been Samarkand’s lingua franca. However, this position has come under increasing pressure since Uzbekistan’s independence. Eurasianet writes that former President Islam Karimov seemed intent on erasing the city’s Tajik roots. 

Many in Tajikistan, however, still see Samarkand as inextricably linked to their ethnic and cultural identity. The issue of Samarkand dates back to the 1920s when the city was made part of the Uzbek SSR under the Soviets’ policy of national delimitation. In 2009, Tajik President Imomali Rahmon told journalists that in a brawl with Karimov, he had threatened to take back Samarkand by force. 

Interestingly, a significant number of Tajik speakers in Uzbekistan hold more nuanced views about their ethnicity. Research about this topic found that “many people speak a language as their vernacular language while identifying themselves with the ‘other’ ethnic group in daily life.” In the same study, Persian-speaking respondents from Samarkand primarily see themselves as Samarkandi, rather than Tajik. 

On the other hand, for people like Nodira who are multilingual and have mixed families, local, national, and ethnic identities overlap. The new rail connection also has a significant symbolic function as a token of regional interconnectedness. In many ways, the hard border between Uzbekistan and Tajikistan was a historical anomaly, in that it divided a continuous cultural and linguistic space.

05:53 – Border 

After the Uzbek border guard returns my phone and the customs officials exit the train, we ride into no-man’s land. As we accelerate, I notice that at some point during the night, we have traded our silent, electric locomotive for a noisy diesel enginge. A gust of black smoke occasionally enters through the open windows – an unfortunate tradeoff for ventilation against the heat.  

As the train pulls out of the Uzbek customs zone, we pass high walls and concrete barriers, manned guard towers, and barbed wire. Suddenly, this militarised border zone gives way to green fields, off-roading Ladas, and even some rice paddies. Despite the early hour, whole families are out working the land. Some wave to the passing train.

Indeed, a passenger train on these tracks remains a rare sight. Since independence, ordinary Uzbeks and Tajiks have been caught in the crosshairs of bilateral tensions. Lengthy examinations and searches, considerable red tape and frequent border closures had a significant impact on travel and trade. Relations between the two countries were mired in suspicion and distrust.

Uzbekistan even had parts of the border area mined, allegedly to prevent militant Islamist groups from entering the country. Hundreds of people, mostly local farmers, were killed or injured in landmine explosions. After Shavkat Mirziyoyev succeeded Karimov in 2016 as president of Uzbekistan, clearing the minefields was a top priority in his pursuit of better ties with Tajikistan.

Read more on Novastan: Moscow attacks highlight Tajikistan’s radicalisation problem

With most of the obstacles removed, the task remains to rebuild the political, economic, and cultural ties that were virtually destroyed over the past 30 years. The return of the Tashkent-Dushanbe night train, as the first passenger rail connection between the two capitals since the collapse of the Soviet Union, is a testament to this ambition.

09:41 – Dushanbe

On April 18 this year, Mirziyoyev and Rahmon signed a ‘Treaty on Allied Relations’ in Dushanbe. The treaty consists of 28 documents covering various areas of cooperation, ranging from cross-border trade to food safety, and from fostering intercultural exchange to transport and communication. 

In a statement, the President of Uzbekistan declared that bilateral relations between the countries had “risen to an unprecedented level”. Uzbek news website Darya.uz wrote that developing new transit corridors was among the leaders’ priorities. The Diplomat previously reported that, since coming to power, Mirziyoyev has pushed for new rail projects to bolster regional integration.

Read more on Novastan: Railway between Tajikistan and Uzbekistan to be electrified

But it might take some time before this treaty will bear fruit. For now, Dushanbe is all but a regional transport hub. The railway station of Tajikistan’s capital city has the allure of that of a provincial town. Aside from the Tashkent-Dushanbe night train, the only other international connection that departs from here is the weekly ride to Volgograd – often packed with Tajik migrant workers heading to Russia. 

On the platform, we part ways with Nodira. Although we thoroughly enjoyed the journey, she is of a different opinion. With a small child, the train ride is much more comfortable than the shorter but mountainous route by road. However, the train takes twice as long to travel between the two capitals. Regional transport links still have a long way to go. Nodira concludes that she might as well take the car next time. 

Written by Julian Postulart, editor of Novastan English

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The post Night train to Dushanbe – a travelogue of Uzbek-Tajik relations appeared first on Novastan English.

Russian authorities have charged four Tajiks for their involvement in the deadly terrorist attack at the Crocus City Hall in Moscow on March 22 that cost the lives of at least 140 people. The men were allegedly recruited by Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP), a regional branch of Islamic State. The events in Moscow have highlighted Tajikistan’s struggle with radicalisation.

On the evening of 22 March, gunmen attacked the Crocus City concert hall near Moscow, killing at least 140 people. The following day, TASS reported that 11 people were arrested for their involvement in the attack. Among them were four citizens of Tajikistan, who later appeared in court with signs of torture. Although many details about the attacks are still unclear, experts suggest the involvement of Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP), a regional branch of Islamic State that is actively recruiting among Tajiks.

The events at the Crocus City Hall have spurred a xenophobic backlash in Russia. Eurasianet reported about a 35-year old Tajik who was summarily evicted from his home in Moscow following the attack. According to the independent Russian media outlet Meduza, Russians have started refusing taxis with Tajik drivers. Moreover, security services are increasingly profiling people based on ‘Asian features’. Not only Tajiks are affected by the current wave of xenophobia in Russia. Kyrgzystan has urged its citizens not to travel to Russia and 24.KG writes that forty Kyrgyz were denied entry into the country at a Moscow airport.

ISKP and Tajikistan

Hours after the attack, Islamic State (IS) claimed responsibility for the attack through its central communication channels on Telegram. Later, the terrorist group published photos of the perpetrators and first-person footage of the attack on Telegram to substantiate their claim. However, analysts point to Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP) as the main suspect. This regional affiliate of IS was founded back in 2015 in Afghanistan and initially recruited dissenters from the Taliban.

Khorasan refers to the idea of Greater Khorasan, the historical region that extends from eastern Iran to Badakhshan in Tajikistan, and from Tashkent to southern Afghanistan. ISKP hopes to establish a caliphate there, with the ultimate goal of expanding it beyond the region. After the fall of Kabul in 2021, the Taliban is engaged in a counterinsurgency against ISKP. Regularly, ISKP carries out terrorist attacks in Kabul and elsewhere in the country. The Diplomat writes that these attacks are primarily executed by ethnic Tajiks.

Read more on Novastan: The Taliban at the gates of Central Asia: what are the consequences?

Since its formation, ISKP has forged alliances with militant Islamist groups in Central Asia and started recruiting volunteers there as well. Edward Lemon, a researcher specialising in Central Asia and president of the Oxus Society, claimed on X that “while the threat within the country has been minimal, Tajikistan had the third highest per capita recruitment to Syria in the world, it’s citizens took on key roles in IS and have been involved in attacks or foiled plots in Iran, Afghanistan, Germany and Turkey this past year.” There is little information on the number of Tajiks recruited into its regional affiliate, ISKP.

Indeed, on July 6 last year, German news website Tagesschau reported that seven men from Central Asia were arrested in the German state of North Rhine-Westphalia for alleged membership of ISKP, as well as for preparing a terrorist attack in Europe. They included five Tajiks, one Kyrgyz and one Turkmen. The arrests were the result of a joint investigation by the German and Dutch authorities. In the Netherlands, a further two suspects were apprehended: a man from Tajikistan and a woman from Kyrgyzstan.

Radicalisation in Tajikistan

Research has shown that Tajik militants are being recruited among Central Asian migrant workers in Russia, as well as in impoverished communities in Tajikistan itself. Tajikistan is highly dependent on the money that is being sent home by the migrant workers abroad. The World Bank estimated that 51 per cent of the country’s GDP consists of remittances. But faced with xenophobia, racism and marginalisation in Russia, Islamic fundamentalism makes for an appealing alternative.

Mélanie Sadozaï, a researcher specialising in the Tajik-Afghan border, explained to Novastan: “There are many reasons why these individuals are recruited: search for a better life, rejection of the state and its institutions, desire to practise Islam without discrimination, financial motivations, denunciation of Russian involvement in Syria, where IS itself is based, etc.” According to Sadozaï, “the decision to join IS is often more complex than a deepfelt belief in the radical Islam advocated by the terrorist group.“

That said, radicalisation can also be a reaction to Tajikistan’s ultra-secular politics. Dushanbe is currently implementing a “National Strategy for Combating Extremism and Terrorism.” As part of this strategy, the government has adopted 35 laws aimed at restricting activities described as “terrorist”. This legislation has led to restrictions on individual and religious freedoms and freedom of association. The documents are rooted in the Tajik government’s desire to combat the practice of Islam in general, not Islamic extremism alone.

The politicisation of extremism

The problem of radicalisation is exploited by the Tajik government to push through its secular political agenda and silence opposition. As reported by the Institute for War and Peace, women and minors in Tajikistan are not allowed to pray in mosques. Similarly, the wearing of hijabs by women and beards by men is often considered extremist. The fight against terrorism therefore has a major impact on the role of Islam in society.

Practising Muslims are under greater scrutiny. Since the repression of a series of demonstrations in May 2022 in Gorno-Badakhshan, an autonomous region that makes up the eastern half of Tajikistan, the local Shiite minority has been further affected by restrictions on freedom, particularly in religious matters.

Read more on Novastan: In Tajikistan, repression continues

According to Roustam Azizi, a member of the Islamic Council of the Presidency, the definition of the terms ‘extremism’ and ‘terrorism’ is vague. This makes it possible to classify various opponents of the regime, such as political dissidents, but also journalists and lawyers, as ‘terrorists’. In 2023, for example, the independent news outlet Pamir Daily News was declared ‘extremist’.

Considering the repressive policies of the Tajik government, terrorist activities involving Tajik nationals are primarily diffuse and delocalised. In other words, they take place abroad. However, the authorities’ harsh approach feeds into religious and political extremism. According to Mélanie Sadozaï, Dushanbe is “tightening constraints and security measures against religious practices and potential rivals or destabilisers of the current regime, which only serves to fuel frustrations that can take the form of terrorist attacks“.

Tajik-Afghan security cooperation

The border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan is sometimes mentioned as a potential corridor for jihadists. Sadozaï, however, states that there is no evidence for this. On the contrary, Dushanbe seems not very concerned about the situation along the border. For example, the researcher points to the fact that in September 2023, cross-border markets were reopened for commercial activities.

Yet, since the Taliban takeover in 2021, there are no formal diplomatic relations between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. The Tajik government remains the Taliban’s fiercest critic. This has to do with the Taliban’s support for Jamaat Ansarullah, a Tajik Islamist militant group operating from Afghan Badakhshan, just across the border with Tajikistan.

At the same time, the Tajik government cooperates with the Taliban authorities in Kabul on certain security issues. For both Dushanbe and Kabul, ISKP is a common enemy. Mélanie Sadozaï states that the terrorist group “undermines the credibility of these regimes in terms of their ability to maintain the security of the countries they govern“. Yet, ISKP is no cross-border organisation, but a transnational terrorist group. Most Tajik militants that join ISKP do so via Russia, Sadozaï concludes.

Julian Postulart, Judith Robert

Editors of Novastan English & Novastan French

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

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Russian president Vladimir Putin has invited his counterparts from Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, and Uzbekistan to attend the annual Victory Day celebrations in Moscow on May 9. The occasion marks the first time the Central Asian presidents will meet Putin after the latter’s indictment by the International Criminal Court.

On April 25, the office of the Kyrgyz president issued a press release stating that Kyrgyzstan’s Sadyr Japarov would attend the annual military parade on Red Square on May 9 as a “guest of honour”. Several days later, on May 5, Putin also invited Tajikistan’s Emomali Rahmon to Moscow.

The day before the parade, on May 8, a rapid fire of invitations sent the presidents of Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan all flying to Russia. It will be the first time in years that all five Central Asian presidents will take part in the Victory Day celebrations.

Since the start of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the Kremlin has paid significantly more attention to Central Asia. In 2022 alone, Putin visited all five countries in the region – something that had not happened in a long time. While the Russian president is increasingly cornered internationally, Moscow clearly holds on tight to its few remaining allies.

Yet, this will be the first time for Central Asian leaders that they share the stage with the Russian president after he was charged with war crimes.

A wanted man

Recently, the International Criminal Court (ICC) issued an arrest warrant for the Russian president on allegations relating to the illegal deportation of Ukrainian children from occupied areas to Russia.

Last week, South African authorities warned that Putin risks being arrested during the upcoming BRICS summit in August, should the Russian president decide to make an appearance. South Africa has ratified the founding treaty of the ICC and hence obligated to act should Putin set foot in the country.

In Central Asia, Tajikistan is the only state party to the treaty and thus – in theory – bound to cooperate with the Court. Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan both signed the treaty some twenty years ago, but have so far failed to ratify it. By contrast, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan are non-signatory states. Hence, should the Russian president decide to visit the region, as he did so often last year, chances of Central Asian authorities refusing Putin entry because of the arrest warrant are slim.

An offer one can’t refuse

In many ways, Central Asia still is highly dependent on Russia. According to political analyst Arkady Dubnov, who was interviewed by Kyrgyz news outlet Kloop about the Kremlin’s invitation to Japarov, Bishkek had no choice but to accept.

Kyrgyzstan still has deep economic ties with Russia. Although China is making significant inroads in Central Asia as part of its Belt and Road Initiative, Russia remains incredibly important in terms of trade and remittances.

Read more on Novastan: Effects of sanctions on Russia strongly felt in Dushanbe

The most recent data from the World Bank show that over 30 percent of Kyrgyz GDP consists of remittances. 97 percent of these remittances are sent by Kyrgyz migrants working in Russia. Hence, it is safe to say that economic ties with Russia are highly asymmetrical and Moscow is well aware of this.

In the case of Tajikistan, economic dependence on Russia is just as significant. As Tajik news media Asia Plus reported that last year, remittances from Russia reached a record high. Russian authorities also registered a post-pandemic spike in migrant inflow. In 2022, nearly one million people from Tajikistan travelled to Russia for work.

Central Asia as a sanctions loophole

The war in Ukraine, however, has somewhat tilted the balance in favour of Central Asian economies. Countries such as Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have transformed into important hubs for reexporting goods to Russia.

Radio Azattyk, the Kyrgyz service of Radio Liberty that was recently forced to shut down, interviewed Temir Shabdanaliev, head of a Kyrgyz lobbying group, about this trend. He explained: “If goods from Europe were previously sent to Russia, now they are registered as deliveries to Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan. But as soon as they are unloaded here, they are immediately taken to Russia.“

As a result, trade to and from Central Asia has boomed since the start of western sanctions. In Kyrgyzstan, there has been a remarkable uptick in trade of “shampoo, toothpicks, soap, and car parts”, according to RFE/RL.

Read more on Novastan: Turkey continues exporting drones to Central Asia

Relevant authorities in Tajikistan also signalled an increase in trade with Russia. Last year Tajik authorities were even accused of supplying Moscow with Iranian-designed drones for its war in Ukraine. These accusations were based on a recent deal Dushanbe signed with Tehran to produce drones under license in Tajikistan. However, US-based magazine The Diplomat found no visual evidence to support claims that Tajik-manufactured drones were roaming Ukrainian skies.

Risky business

But there is a certain risk in reexporting goods to Russia. The EU has warned the Central Asian republics that it could impose secondary sanctions on businesses helping Russia dodge sanctions.

For countries like Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, there is little room for manoeuvre. Economic dependence on Russia often outweighs western pressure. However, the invasion of Ukraine has made many in Central Asia aware of existing neo-colonial power relations.

Several weeks ago, Eurasianet reported about a Russian ban on the import of Kyrgyz dairy products after Bishkek moved to adopt a law to promote the Kyrgyz language. The Kremlin sees this development as an attempt to curb its cultural influence in Central Asia.

Patronage to Putin

May 9 is yet another important reminder of the region’s colonial past. That is why over the past decades, most Central Asian countries have gradually said goodbye to Soviet-imposed Victory Day. 

In Kazakhstan, military parades have been scrapped “to maintain the required level of combat readiness”, press agency Kazinform reported. In Turkmenistan, May 9 has not been a public holiday since 2018. Victory Day in Uzbekistan has been transformed into a ‘Day of Remembrance and Honour,’ emphasizing commemoration over military pomp.

Read more on Novastan: Kazakhstan: commemorating Victory Day without military parade

Although Victory Day in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan still bears significant resemblance to the Soviet era, times are changing there as well. In many places, celebrations are scaled down or rescheduled to both countries’ respective independence days. Owing to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, this process will likely accelerate.

Yet, nation-building and symbolism remain subject to real-world constraints. As long as economic dependence continues, regional leaders have no option but to pay patronage to where the money comes from: Putin’s Russia.

Correction: in an earlier version of this article it was stated that Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan are parties to the ICC. Although the two countries have signed the founding treaty of the ICC, both have failed to ratify it as of yet. Hence, neither Tashkent nor Bishkek is legally obligated to cooperate with the Court.

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

Written by Julian Postulart

The post Central Asian presidents invited to attend Russian Victory Day Parade appeared first on Novastan English.

Over the past six weeks, hundreds of thousands of viewers have tuned in to Dutch public broadcaster VPRO to watch the new docuseries “Along the new Silk Road”. For most people in the Netherlands, this show is their first introduction to Central Asia. But as its title suggests, the documentary is dotted with orientalist stereotypes about the region. A critical review of a missed opportunity.

The opinions expressed in this review are those of the author.  

Since its first broadcast on public television, the Dutch docuseries “Along the new Silk Road” has attracted hundreds of thousands of viewers. So far, this six-part series has averaged over one million people per episode. Even for a primetime show in the Netherlands, these numbers are impressive. 

Most notably, on Sunday March 19, the series’ third episode attracted more viewers than the paid-only live coverage of the Ajax-Feyenoord match – the country’s main football rivalry. 

The show is presented by two popular Dutch documentary makers: Ruben Terlou and Jelle Brandt Corstius. Both have made successful docuseries in the past. Whereas Terlou has had a lifelong passion for China as a photographer and speaks Mandarin fluently, Brandt Corstius is a former Russia correspondent for a Dutch quality newspaper. 

Central Asia as terra incognita

Interestingly, neither Terlou nor Brandt Corstius are experts on Central Asia. Brandt Corstius acknowledges this by stating that he only knows the region insofar as “it was part of the Soviet Union”. Terlou admits that he “always dreamt of following the magical Silk Road”. During his time in China, he saw the growing importance of China’s Belt and Road Initiative. 

Read more on Novastan: China in Central Asia: Fact-checking and myth-busting

Considering both presenters’ respective backgrounds, it comes as no surprise that “Along the new Silk Road” is not a documentary about Central Asia. Instead, the series tells a story of foreign influence, competing interests and geopolitical rivalry. This Great Game-like narrative reduces the region to little more than a great powers playground. 

By depicting Central Asia as some sort of mysterious terra incognita, “Along the new Silk Road” cannily taps into pre-existing orientalist ideas about Central Asia in the Netherlands. Often these depictions are based on stereotypical and colonialist perspectives of eastern cultures, framing them “as extremely different and inferior, and therefore in need of Western intervention or ‘rescue’”. 

Orientalism, voyeurism and white saviourism

In “Along the new Silk Road”, orientalism often takes the form of voyeurism. For example, when discussing bride kidnapping in Kyrgyzstan, the makers’ intentions of doing so remain unclear, other than illustrating the backwardness of such practices. 

Even worse is that by discussing such controversial and complex topics without providing any context, the documentary makers parasitise on the victims’ grief to imbue their audience with a sense of white saviourism. It is not difficult to see that such manifestations of orientalism help justify (neo)colonialism. 

But the most obvious orientalist reference is undoubtedly the series’ title. This cliché choice alludes to the image of exotic caravans traversing inhospitable deserts and high mountain passes. This imagined geography of Central Asia degrades the region to a simple trading corridor, rather than a place of interest in its own right – a criticism that has prevented some experts from using the concept of “Silk Road” altogether.  

The role of Dutch and Western media

But the series’ presenters are not the only ones to be blamed for this orientalist misrepresentation. In part, producer VPRO simply caters to the limited knowledge on Central Asia in Western Europe in general. 

Most people in the Netherlands would likely have a hard time pinpointing Central Asia on a map, let alone identify individual countries. For those who can, the region is often little more than a far-away, post-Soviet wasteland ruled by despotic presidents. 

Dutch media, like most other news outlets, have contributed to creating this image. Current affairs in Central Asia were long covered by correspondents based in Russia, the region’s former coloniser. For most media outlets, this was standard operating procedure until the start of Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. Yet, as the war escalated, many Western journalists were forced to leave Moscow.

Read more on Novastan: Kazakhstan’s gradual divorce from Russia

This exodus freed up resources to report on the wider implications of Russia’s war in Ukraine. Dutch media have paid considerable attention to the recent geopolitical repositioning of former Russian colonies, such as in Kazakhstan. And interest in the region is not only limited to so-called high politics. 

The colonised versus the coloniser

“Along the new Silk Road”’ also features various human interest stories. Brandt Corstius, for example, interviews a Kyrgyz woman about the declining popularity of the Russian language in her country and the revival of nomadic traditions. 

In Pavlodar, Brandt Corstius’ ends up in a hipster bar to talk with progressive Kazakh youth about the sudden influx of Russian draft evaders. These stories definitely deserve praise, as they help empower local narratives about the quest for (national) identity.  

But too often, the documentary makers frame these storylines to fit within their geopolitical grand scheme of things. A clear example of this is Terlou’s poignant interview with several Kazakh women who were imprisoned in China’s internment camps in Xinjiang, or had family members taken from them. 

Read more on Novastan: Escape from Xinjiang – stories from those who fled the camps

One by one, these women’s accounts are chilling. It is impossible not to be moved by their stories of torture and forced abortion. But after the conversation has come to an emotional climax, the camera pans to Terlou who is sobbing quietly in a corner of the kitchen. Later, in a phone call with Brandt Corstius, Terlou describes that hearing the stories of the Kazakh women felt “as if going through a break-up” with his beloved China. 

Decolonising a documentary

It is commendable that Dutch public broadcasting was willing to fund this documentary. After all, the show helped introduce hundreds of thousands of people to Central Asia, many of whom had never heard about the region before.

Yet, in “Along the new Silk Road”, Central Asia appears to be little more than an endless procession of postcolonial pain and misery. Although decisions made in Moscow and Beijing still resonate in Central Asia, regional political leadership has far more agency over the geopolitical course of their respective countries than the documentary portrays. And more importantly, the people in the region have their own histories, cultures and ideas about the future. 

Only when Western media acknowledge these unique identities, it is possible to move away from lingering orientalist views of Central Asia and – hopefully – start making documentaries the region deserves. 

Written by Julian Postulart

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

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In Central Asia, the beginning of spring is traditionally marked by Nowruz, also known as ‘Persian New Year.’ Typical holiday celebrations include horse games, family visits, and large feasts. But Nowruz is not only fun and games. As political leaders seek to break with their countries’ colonial past, Nowruz remains a popular tool in the quest for regional identity.

A faint smell of grass in the air, blue skies yet barren trees. In the outskirts of Bishkek, hundreds of supporters cheer as twenty-some men on horseback compete over a goat carcass. The date is March 21, and it is the first day of spring, an occasion that is marked by a region-wide holiday known as Nowruz. But not all Nowruz celebrations are as spectacular as the traditional polo-like horse game Kok Boru played at the Bishkek hippodrome.

The lead up to Nowruz is possibly just as important as the holiday itself. Regional differences aside, most people in Central Asia start preparing for Nowruz with a spring cleaning of their homes. Others repay their debts or reconcile with enemies to start the new year with a clean slate. On Nowruz itself, the day of the spring equinox, people dress up and spend time with family, friends or neighbours. Food and drinks are especially important and, in most countries, a centuries-old tradition prescribes that ‘sumalak’ is made. This incredibly sweet dessert is made from sprouted wheat.

The Zoroastrian roots of Nowruz

But enough with the customs and traditions – Nowruz is not only fun and games. This holiday has a political element to it as well. In the past, different rulers and colonisers have tried to suppress Nowruz. To explore the modern-day politics of Nowruz, it is essential to delve deeper into its history. Nowruz is also called ‘Persian New Year,’ a name that reveals this holiday’s Iranian roots. Although the exact origin story of Nowruz remains shrouded in mystery, most historians agree that Zoroastrianism was the driving force behind it.

Zoroastrianism is the world’s oldest monotheistic religion and is based on the teachings of Zoroaster, an Iranian prophet. Central to this religion is the battle between Good and Evil, often framed in terms of light and darkness. In this regard, it is clear to see why Nowruz is so important to Zoroastrians, as the arrival of spring generally brings warmer weather and longer days. The Zoroastrian roots of Nowruz also explain the holiday’s popularity in Central Asia. Many experts claim that Zoroaster, the religion’s founder, was a native speaker of Avestan. This Persian dialect was predominant in an area stretching from eastern Iran to Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. In short, Zoroastrianism, with all its customs and traditions, has ancient roots in Central Asia and might even have originated there.

A quintessential Central Asian holiday

Yet, contemporary Nowruz celebrations in Central Asia are not the same as they were thousands of years ago. They have been shaped by the unique geography of the region, as well as the peoples that came to inhabit Central Asia as the result of migration, invasion and (forced) assimilation. Historically, Nowruz has been associated with Greater Iran. Since antiquity, cities like Samarkand and Bukhara had been important centres of Persian culture and language. Until this day, a majority of the people living in these two cities still speak the Tajik dialect of the Persian language. But with the Muslim conquest of Central Asia and the influx of Turkic and Mongol tribes from the north, this Persian cultural dominance started to wane.

Read more on Novastan: Four Central Asian cultural practices newly inscribed on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage List

With new rulers came new cultural influences. Some of these conquerors initially tried to suppress local customs and traditions like Nowruz. But neither Muslim leaders nor Turco-Mongol warlords such as Timur succeeded in abolishing ‘Persian New Year’. Instead, they embarked on a more successful approach of co-adaptation by integrating some of their own folklore into already existing cultural practices. That is why today, Nowruz in Central Asia is characterised by both nomadic traditions, such as Kok Boru, and Persian influences like the drinking of sumalak.

Colonisation and suppression

When the Russian imperial armies came to colonise Central Asia in the late 19th century, however, things changed. In modern-day Uzbekistan, the Russians had left the Emir of Bukhara as a local figurehead. To save face and strengthen his political legitimacy, the annual Nowruz celebrations were an excellent opportunity to show off. The emir even invited circus artists from European Russia to perform. But among the local population, popularity of Nowruz decreased. When the Soviets took over and annexed Central Asia after the Russian civil war, this trend continued. In the cities, Soviet engineers and urban planners redesigned public space, destroying centuries-old neighbourhoods in the process. This severely affected the social fabric of towns and cities throughout the region, hampering holiday preparations.

Read more on Novastan: “Hymns of Blood” – Tajik short stories from Perestroika

Moreover, during Soviet times, Nowruz was banned for years as it was seen as a religious holiday. Only after Soviet orientalists and ethnologists reframed it as pre-Islamic, celebrations were allowed once again. Especially since the collapse of the USSR, the popularity of Nowruz has increased spectacularly.

Nowruz as a political tool

Historically, Nowruz in Central Asia has always been subject to the political whims of local rulers. In the present day, this is no different. Nowruz encapsulates Central Asian histories, cultures, and geography. Hence, holidays like these can be instrumentalised by politicians and others who seek to break with the legacy of the Soviet-colonial past in a quest for regional and national identity. During the rule of late president Islam Karimov in Uzbekistan, for example, some government officials favoured Nowruz over Gregorian New Year. They even “issued instructions to stop holding end-of-year parties.” Holidays other than Nowruz were deemed “contrary to Uzbek culture.” Only after Karimov died and his successor President Shavkat Mirziyoyev took over in 2016, bans and constraints on celebrating Western-style New Year were relaxed.

Read more on Novastan: Central Asia and Russia: an ever-changing relationship

In Kazakhstan too, political leadership has rediscovered Nowruz as a way to strengthen legitimacy. In a move reminiscent of the Emir of Bukhara, current president Kassym-Jomart Tokayev has proposed several reforms with regard to Nowruz. These reforms include extending the national holiday to a whopping ten days instead of the usual four, as well as a proposal to deepen Nowruz’s spiritual and moral meaning. In 2022, Tokayev was re-elected president amid hopes and promises of political and societal reform. Some analysts argue that his plans are an attempt to break with the legacy of Tokayev’s predecessor, Nursultan Nazarbayev. But the low turnout of the recent parliamentary elections in Kazakhstan, just before Nowruz, illustrate that initial enthusiasm about reforms has somewhat subsided.

With deep historical roots in Central Asia, however, Nowruz is likely to remain a popular tool for identity politics as national leaders seek to navigate the future by cherry-picking from the region’s pre-colonial past.

Written by Julian Postulart

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

The post Beyond fun and games – the politics of Nowruz appeared first on Novastan English.

On International Women’s Day in Almaty, feminist organisations rallied “for bodily autonomy and against sexual violence”. According to estimates, 700 to 1000 participants joined the rally to express their demands. After facing an initial ban by the city administration, the organisers only received limited permission to assemble on a distant location in the city’s outskirts.

The rally opened with a moment of silence in memory of those killed by domestic violence. The situation with violence against women in Kazakhstan is alarming: in 2021, 110 women were killed as a result of domestic violence. In 2022, there were 373 rapes registered in Kazakhstan; so far in 2023 72 cases of sexual violence have been reported. According to official sources, more than 100 000 domestic violence complaints are received by the authorities annually. Human Rights Watch has repeatedly insisted upon greater accountability for abusers. Recently, Human Rights Watch again called for Kazakhstan to “ensure that draft laws relating to domestic violence provide maximum protection for women from family violence, including by criminalising domestic violence as a stand-alone offense“. A draft law On Combating Domestic Violence, which would have strengthened protections for victims of family abuse, passed its first reading in parliament in 2020, but was withdrawn in 2021 as it was said to be in need of improvement. Activists also voiced a demand to pass a bill on sexual harassment and to join the Istanbul Convention. This international agreement was initiated by the Council of Europe to end violence against women and domestic violence. Since the withdrawal of the draft law, state officials have submitted several revisions; HRW claims the authorities proposed “at least two other pieces of legislation that include domestic violence-related provisions”, but the new draft is unavailable for public discussion.

Long way to a march in March

In 2017, the first feminist march took place in Almaty. Back then, the activists had not received a permit from the city administration. In 2019, for the first time, the authorities officially approved a feminist rally and then a feminist march. But in 2020, the organisations FemAgora, KazFem and Feminita were denied permission to organise a march on March 8. In 2021, the Almaty city council approved the largest feminist march in Kazakhstan to date. Between 500 and 1000 participants marched about five kilometres through the streets of the city. Last year, the Almaty Women’s March was only allowed at the last moment.

Read more on Novastan: 8 March in Almaty: “women belong in politics!”

Fariza Ospan, one of the organisers of the 2023 Almaty women’s march, says the organising committee applied for approval four times before permission was finally granted: the first time in December 2022. The municipality then banned the march because of an event of the League of Volunteers, a quasi-public organisation which became famous in 2018 as they campaigned in support of a controversial state project to build a ski resort in a national park (and won several questionable public contracts). Ospan says the organisers suspect that the city council had already decided to ban the march even before any application was submitted, as all demonstration sites were allegedly booked by the League of Volunteers.

During a Q&A with citizens in February, Almaty’s Mayor Erbolat Dosaev said “We’ll see what we give permission for and what we don’t,” when the activists asked him if the march was going to be approved, and added that “the 8th of March is a holiday that is important for men as well“. The same day, the organisers of the women’s march were notified that their rally would not receive municipal permission. As Ospan explains, this was anticipated: the organisers had planned to protest the ban every weekend until permission was granted. The first protest took place on 5 February, when more than 150 people gathered to voice their discontent with the administration’s decision.

The difficulty of organising demonstrations in Kazakhstan

In 2020, Kazakhstan’s Parliament passed the Law “On Peaceful Assemblies,” according to which it is sufficient to inform local authorities of a planned demonstration, without obtaining explicit permission to organise one. However, this law is heavily criticised by civil society for violating the right of peaceful assembly, as the procedure to notify the authorities is actually more complicated than it might seem. In Almaty, there are three locations where the citizens are allowed to peacefully assemble, with the capacity for 200, 500, and 1000 participants, and only one possible route for a march. The largest location is in the city centre, although it is rather far away from the city administration buildings. The other two are located in residential neighbourhoods on the city’s outskirts. But even the latter locations are often unavailable for various reasons, such as repair works or other events. In 2019, an activist was finally permitted to hold a rally, after his request had first been rejected 35 times. Although the law has been updated since, the grounds for the municipality to ban protests have not.

According to Kazakh law, an application to hold a demonstration is non-binding. It means that even if a rally is cancelled in advance, the city hall is not obliged to inform other potential applicants that the location has become available. This lack of transparency makes it difficult to keep the local government in check, while it allows the municipality to ban genuine initiatives. Even if organisers are notified that a location is vacant, this often happens with little time left to prepare. In Kazakhstan, those planning a demonstration are responsible for anything that could go wrong, creating yet another obstacle for activists to overcome. For example, if the number of participants specified in the application is exceeded or the agenda changes, organisers could be sanctioned.

Limited permission granted

As Fariza Ospan explains, in February, the city council communicated that the League is ready to “give up two locations“. The Women’s March organising committee hoped to secure a location next to Shoqan Walikhanov’s monument in downtown Almaty, where up to 1000 people could gather. But this could not be facilitated. The activists could choose between two distant locations and finally applied to organise a gathering at the Ghandi Park with a capacity of 200 people. On 21 February, the organising committee of the Almaty women’s march learned from an article by news outlet Orda.kz that their rally was finally allowed to take place. The official approval from the city administration came in the evening. Yet, the ban to march through the city was left in place and the organisers decided not to proceed with it to avoid putting the participants in danger. The turn-out exceeded expectations. Local news outlets have come with various estimates: from “up to 700″ to “at least 1000“. All difficulties aside, this year’s rally in Almaty once again showed that the 8th of March has become an annual tradition for the women’s movement in Kazakhstan − and it is likely here to stay.

Written by Anna Wilhelmi, Emma Collet

Edited by Julian Postulart

Photos by Toma Maratova

For more news and analysis from Central Asia, follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Telegram, Linkedin or Instagram.

The post Women’s Day in Kazakhstan: hundreds gather for rally in Almaty appeared first on Novastan English.

Since the invasion, Kazakhstan has taken a position of neutrality towards Russia’s war in Ukraine. Yet, Astana has not hindered volunteers from organising humanitarian aid to send to Ukraine. Furious remarks from Russia about this ambiguity have placed Kazakhstan at the epicentre of a targeted (dis)information campaign. The following article appeared 20 August, 2022 in Fergana News. We have translated it with friendly permission from the editors. Recently three ambulances arrived in Ukraine from Kazakhstan. The Telegram channel “Ateo Breaking” reported that the vehicles were sent by authorities from the Central Asian country to help Ukraine, where Russia is conducting a “special military operation.” But in fact, the Kazakh government had nothing to do with this aid package. The vehicles were financed by Kazakh businesspeople, according to information shared by the Ukrainian Ministry of Health and the Ukrainian Embassy in Kazakhstan. Transport to Ukraine was organised by the NGOs “Ukrainian American House,” “Initiative E+,” and the Victor Pinchuk Foundation.

Solidarity with Ukraine from below

From the beginning of the “special operation,” Kazakh authorities distanced themselves from any involvement in the conflict. The acting Minister of Defence Sultan Kamaletdinov made clear remarks in this regard: “We do not support any side. There can be no questions about this.” However, not all Kazakhs agree with his point of view. Since the beginning of the war, hundreds of volunteers and those sympathetic to the Ukrainian cause have sent humanitarian aid to areas in need via the Ukrainian Embassy in Kazakhstan and collected donations for victims. What is important to emphasise is that these are citizens’ initiatives that are not supported by the government. Reception centres for Ukrainian refugees are currently active in 11 cities: Karaganda, Oral, Semei,Oskemen, Aktau, Turkistan, Atyrau, Ekibastuz, Aktobe, Almaty and Astana.

At the beginning of June, Kazakhs sent humanitarian aid to Ukraine via several planes and 11 trucks. The total volume of this delivery was over 200 tons and included toiletries, food, medicine, and more. Within Kazakhstan itself, charity concerts in support of Ukraine have been organised. But since these have unsettled local authorities, gaining permission for such initiatives is difficult. During a charity run on 24 August 2022, money was collected to rebuild schools in Chernihiv Oblast. Officially, Astana has not involved itself in such activities. In spring last year, the Kazakh authorities only sent three cargo planes to Ukraine with medicine, food, and bedding. So far, the government’s policy of neutrality has resulted in a ban on rallies in support of Ukraine, while prosecuting people who display Z or V stickers (letters which are signs of support for the “special operation”). Read more on Novastan: Kazakhstan’s gradual divorce from Russia The longer the “special operation” continues, the harder maintaining such balance will be. The “big neighbour” is making it increasingly clear that it expects a different, preferably more supportive stance from Kazakhstan with regard to the military conflict. In spring 2022, well-known media personalities accused Astana of Russophobic policies and treason. Now dozens of popular Telegram channels have become involved in fuelling anti-Russian sentiment by publishing either outright lies or distorted information on the daily, that are picked up by Russian media without any fact-checking. For example, the story about the ambulances mentioned above was run by the state-run online newspaper Gazeta.ru. They even stated on Twitter that the vehicles were sent by Kazakh authorities for use by the Ukrainian armed forces.

Purported weapons’ sales

Another news article claimed that Kazakhstan was selling weapons to the United Kingdom, for them to be subsequently shipped to Ukraine. Documents related to this story were published at the beginning of August by the pro-Russian hacker group Beregini. The deal was supposedly carried out thanks to the mediation of the company “Technoexport”. First this “news” was picked up by Russian Telegram channels, after which mainstream media started publishing about it. Kazakhstan’s Ministry of Industry and Development of Infrastructure denied the accusations immediately and shared that neither “Technoexport” nor any other company had been licensed for the export of weapons to the UK. The permit necessary for the re-export of weapons was also not issued by the ministry. The Russian Telegram channel “Rybar”, however, described the ministry’s statement as “unfounded” and after “digging” through the Technoexport documents, discovered that the company – contrary to the Kazakh rebuttal – was indeed in the possession of the licenses and permits required for export to the UK. Read more on Novastan: The war in Ukraine and its consequences for Central Asia“It does not matter if the official representatives of the Kazakh government are defending themselves by saying that they could not export Soviet weapons without the producer’s – that is, Russia’s – permission. They are doing it all behind closed doors,” wrote the authors of the Telegram channel, which boasts over a million followers. In other words, the Kazakh authorities were being accused of lying not by Russian law enforcement agencies, neither by government leaders, nor by popular media, but instead by a Telegram channel whose anonymous editors know that they will not be prosecuted for their allegations.

“Wild Mambets”

A painful story of child abuse in Kazakhstan developed along similar lines. A group of teenagers in Almaty abused two brothers, aged four and nine, by forcing them to perform oral sex. The mother of the boys turned to the foundation NeMolchi.kz and journalists to receive help, in addition to filing a report with the police. Later, however, a video of the mother appeared on the Telegram channel “Mnogonational” under the title “In Kazakhstan wild Mambets [editor’s note: Mambet is derogatory slang for an uncultivated, uneducated person of Central Asian heritage] forced small Russian children […] to perform oral sex on the playground and recorded it with a camera.”  The story was taken up by Russian TV station Tsargrad, which announced it was “another case of the escalating manifestation of Russophobia in Kazakhstan. This time Russia-haters took their dirty deeds to the limit – Russian children have suffered.” The twisted story was broadcasted on the station and later similarly referenced to by other Russian media outlets. Read more on Novastan: Mambet – The Central Asian N-word: Where it comes from and what it means Then the mother of the victims stepped forward with a counterstatement. The woman called the publication and broadcast a provocation. “All of those involved in the incident were of European ethnicity, but you cannot give this any interethnic stain. I have lived in Kazakhstan since birth and have many friends of other ethnicities. We all live in peace,” she said. Who is responsible for the provocation remains unclear, since the Telegram channel “Mnogonational,” which first spoke of “wild Mambets,” is anonymous. The authors of the channel claimed multiple times that the mother of the children was forced to make a counterstatement. Of course, they did not provide any proof for this claim.

The hot topic of language

The government-friendly Russian public has seized upon yet another hot topic in the relationship between the two countries: language. Messages started circulating on social media stating that Russian-language instruction in Kazakhstan’s schools would disappear in the next six to seven years. Media outlets such as Glas.ru and Tsargrad reported about this as well. As it turned out, these messages were based on a wrong interpretation of a two-year-old report from the Kazakh Channel 31. Kazakhstan’s Ministry of Education denounced the fake news, but several days later the problem of Russian language in schools resurfaced. After a statement from Minister of Education Ashat Aimagambetov on 16 August, social media and Telegram channels spread the news that starting in 2022, Kazakh pupils in first grade would not be taught Russian, while learning Kazakh remained obligatory. In fact, the minister only referred to schools with Kazakh as the language of instruction. This important detail was deliberately left out by a number of media outlets. Large Russian media agencies, such as TASS, published about the correct version of the announcement, but the fake story had already received considerable media attention. Read more on Novastan: Kazakhstan’s slow yet determined transition to the Latin alphabet Furthermore, in an interview with Nur.kz in early June, Minister Aimagambetov reemphasized that starting with trilingual classes in the first grade might be too difficult for pupils. Therefore, he added, was decided to introduce the different languages at Kazakh-language primary schools one at a time. “We made a decision on this issue and are already working to ensure that a child in a school with Kazakh as the language of instruction is only learning one language in first grade: Kazakh. That means they learn to read and write in their native language. In second grade, Russian is introduced, and in third grade, English,” explained the minister. This important nuance was omitted in Russian media.

A (dis)information campaign

There are many more examples of Russian disinformation in Kazakhstan, but these stories stand out with regard to the amount of media attention they have received. There was also a deleted post on the social media site Vkontakte by former Russian President Dmitry Medvedev, who currently is deputy chairman of the Security Council of Russia. In this post, he claimed that Kazakhstan was an “artificial state,” whose authorities pursue a policy of “Russian genocide.” (The post was deleted 10 minutes after publication and was said to be the result of a hack, as stated by the press service of Vkontakte and Medvedev himself.) There is a lot of disinformation floating on Telegram channels and Russian news websites, such as the story about the alleged murder of a Russian boy in Astana by Kazakh children. The article was accompanied by a video of a fight from last year in which no one was killed. The amount of fake news has grown exponentially in recent months. Hence, it is best to speak of a planned (dis)information campaign. Russian officials reject such accusations outright. President Vladimir Putin has repeatedly referred to Kazakhstan as a “strategic partner” and his press secretary called the country a “friendly state.” On 19 August, Kazakhstan’s President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev met Vladimir Putin in Sochi. At the meeting, the two presidents hugged. Later Tokayev said that he was satisfied with the development of cooperation between the two countries. Tokayev was quoted saying: “We are bound by the entire border – the longest fully demarcated land border in the world.We cannot allow any pessimistic prognoses over the future of our cooperation! As President of the Republic of Kazakhstan, I am personally dedicated to giving additional impetus to our bilateral cooperation in all areas.”

Fergana News

 Translated from Russian into German by Robin Roth

 Translated from German into English by Mari Paine

 Edited by Julian Postulart

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