While Central Asia’s international political profile has risen considerably since 2001, it has primarily been seen in the West through the prism of Afghanistan. The policies of Western governments towards Central Asia as a whole and as individual states have widely fluctuated, but in almost every case, been heavily shaped by policies toward Afghanistan. US and ISAF Afghanistan policy has been short-sighted and messy enough, making policy toward Central Asia even moreso.

In recent years, Central Asia’s governments have backslid, becoming more authoritarian and less able to provide services to all of society. This contributes to greater risks for instability in the future.

How much responsibility do Western countries, particularly the United States, have for this situation?

According to Alexander Cooley, who writes, “…the West has left a trail of repression, graft and unfulfilled commitments to Central Asia’s fledgling civil society,” a lot.

Cooley makes two big claims about how the US and ISAF campaign in Afghanistan has affected Central Asia:

1. Security assistance has made Central Asian states more authoritarian and corrupt
2. The drawdown from Afghanistan will magnify these effects

I acknowledge the possibility that Cooley is referring to a very small, slightly more than trivial, increase when using the adjective “more” to describe the changes in authoritarianism and corruption in Central Asia caused by western security assistance. However, it seems unlikely that he means “slightly more than trivial” for a few reasons. First, why bother writing about it in anything other than a theoretical way if that is indeed the case? Second, he does not write about these changes in the way one might expect were he describing small changes; the language suggests a qualitative and quantitative levels of authoritarianism and corruption rather than describing, for example, how western assistance creates new opportunities for the pre-existing corruption. Third, the tone suggests he means something big.

Perhaps the strong evidence is in his forthcoming book, because the case made in the article linked above is extraordinarily thin.

Before even looking at the evidence, this case should be approached with extreme skepticism. As a thought experiment, imagine there had been no war in Afghanistan. Would we expect any of the Central Asian governments to be qualitatively different in any perceivable way? Would corruption or authoritarianism be significantly less pronounced? To say they would be dramatically understates the agency these governments have.

Similarly, even with the war in Afghanistan, if western security assistance is a noteworthy contributor to increased corruption and authoritarianism, we should expect the effects to be more pronounced where that assistance is and has been greatest. It is hard to measure these things objectively, but looking at Freedom House and Transparency International scores or purely qualitative assessments of corruption and freedom as levels of US security assistance over the last decade shows no clear patterns. Uzbekistan was a little better in the early part of the decade when US security assistance was greatest and did most of its slide during the period of poor relations with the US. Kyrgyzstan has slid on corruption rankings and fallen and bounced back on freedom rankings. There is a lot more economy in explaining these changes by referring to the features of the particular governments than there is by pointing to US security assistance as the cause.¹

So, Cooley has big evidentiary hurdles — ones he sets up himself by writing at the outset that, “Western security assistance has made the Central Asian states more authoritarian and more corrupt” — to clear to show a causal relationship between security assistance and increased corruption and authoritarianism. He simply does not clear them.

On promotion of political and civil rights, he writes,

The K2 eviction prompted Western officials to accept the Central Asian governments’ insistence that engagement on security issues was now antithetical with promoting political freedoms.

To support this claim, he points out that the US toned down criticism of President Bakiev in 2007 to prevent the eviction of Manas, that human rights organizations complain that the US will not raise rights issues with certain Central Asian governments because of security relationships, and that the EU addresses human rights issues in EU-Central Asia dialogues. This simply does not cut it. Yes, the US has toned down criticism at times, and some agencies are particularly prone to downplaying concerns over rights. However, it is incorrect to say that the US does not raise these issues, as some human rights organizations claim (though this argument is hard to refute without details). Whether or not this engagement makes any difference, especially in a systematic way, is an entirely different question, as is whether or not US officials are eager to bring these issues up. But the mountain of rights related reports and certifications required for security assistance required by Congress make it impossible not to bring these issues up. Is it really that hard to find people in government with knowledge of these negotiations or who can describe the far more complicated story on trying to promote rights and maintain security assistance agreements?

On corruption, Cooley describes the rent-seeking around the Northern Distribution Network and the massive corruption in fuel sales for the Transit Center at Manas. He is entirely right that western, mostly US, engagement on transit into Afghanistan has created opportunities for corruption for local elites. And he is right that the payments are likely to increase as equipment is moved out of Afghanistan on the NDN. Yes, this is “more” corruption quantitatively, but is it qualitatively? One’s mileage may vary, but any and all resources coming into the region from outside are likely to have a chunk taken out due to corruption.²

Cooley never directly supports his claim that western security assistance has made Central Asia more authoritarian. The closest he comes is when he writes,

…the Obama Administration in January of this year lifted a ban on providing military assistance and its financing to the Uzbek government, opening the way to transfers of material that is as likely to be used to target domestic opponents as it is for its publicly stated purpose of guarding these supply lines.

Cooley, like other analysts of US security assistance, would be better served by taking a look at what security assistance has been given and what is on offer. Vague reference to “material” muddies the water. Uzbekistan wants all kinds of military equipment, but what is actually being offered does not include weapons and ammunition. Specific items include night-vision goggles, thermal imaging sensors for border posts, and body armor, and it will probably also include things like computers, desks, certain kinds of vehicles, and similar equipment being moved back out of Afghanistan. It explicitly does not include expansion of training. I guess all of these things could be used against domestic opponents or the public, but is that really such a significant risk? These are not the tools of repression currently used, and to claim that this increases authoritarianism is making a mountain out of a molehill. Again, is it really that hard to find people, especially at State or on Congressional staffs, who have worked these issues and can provide another perspective to add something to the story?

I agree that US policy has been lacking in Central Asia over the last decade. There have been strategic missteps and missed opportunities. Western governments, particularly the US and German, have too often let themselves lose sight of the importance of human rights to the long-term security and stability of Central Asia in the pursuit of short-term goals in Afghanistan. Human rights organizations play an important role in reminding western governments that Central Asian governments are headed the wrong direction, and academics play an important role in providing inputs to orient policy in better directions. However, in either of these cases, that role is undermined by making thinly-supported arguments that overstate the effects of security assistance on Central Asian governments.

Earlier this week, Small Wars Journal published an article by Matthew Stein, a research analyst currently working at the Foreign Military Studies Office at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, discussing the role of videos recorded and posted by citizen bystanders in the information battle to control the narrative over the police’s violent crackdown on protesters in Zhanaozen last December. Stein’s article provides a fairly straightforward summary of the different videos showing the police firing on protesters and how the ways in which the government has built a narrative for the incident. On the significance of the appearance of these videos, Stein writes,

Finally, the significance of these videos is that the people of Zhanaozen were able to get information on the incident out into social media despite the government’s control over access. People using social media to publicize incidents that might not otherwise be noticed is not a new trend, as can be seen from worldwide events in 2011. However, this is the most noteworthy example from Kazakhstan, much less Central Asia, of this happening. Due to the effect that the first video (Zhana Ozen 3) had, it will not be the last time that people in Kazakhstan document an incident on video and make it available for a wide audience.

Dissemination of documentary evidence without state filtering is a fairly recent phenomenon in Central Asia, though some, including myself, would argue that Kazakhstan is late to this, at least in regard to high profile events, especially compared to Kyrgyzstan, where there are several earlier examples, including 2010′s overthrow of President Bakiev and especially the ethnic violence in Osh. More importantly though, the significance of information going unfiltered into social media and out to a wide audience is overstated. As internet use increases in Central Asia, it should come as no surprise that some of these people use the internet to distribute content like the Zhanaozen videos.

In his final paragraph, Stein points to the emergence of a struggle between state and society to control the narratives around controversial events. There is a story to be told about how these authoritarian states respond to erosion of their information dominance, but in many ways, it is singularly uninteresting. Almost every state tries to shape narratives, and in Central Asia, the state controls the story by keeping political groups, social and religious groups, and the media on a short leash. Central Asian governments have stepped up some restrictions and monitoring of social media. Security services are adept enough at disrupting off-line political activity planned online, and governments are finding ways to convince people to avoid the internet.

Like my colleagues here at Registan, I have found expectations of a Central Asian spring in the near term or the assumption that the Arab Spring would have a measurable impact on Central Asia to be based on fundamental misunderstandings of the region. Political culture matters. A lot. Government plays a critical role in nurturing fear, distrust, and political apathy, but their success is aided enormously by their political opponents and the societies they govern perpetuating this culture themselves. And research on Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan suggests that at least in the near term, the internet has exacerbated these problems.

Of course, all of these things — the relationships between state and society, the discussions within society, and political and cultural attitudes — are dynamic. Timelines extend well beyond the near term. The documentation and discussion in social media of events like Zhanaozen or ethnic violence in Kyrgyzstan is important because it preserves events. Stein is looking in the wrong place for meaning. The real significance of this documentation and presentation is in how and whether it changes society’s modes and norms for discussing sensitive political, social, and cultural topics and how those changes subsequently change political culture. The state’s reaction is just a continuation of a long-running dynamic.

I do not find the future as bleak as we sometimes make it sound when we focus on the near term. It is, of course, incorrect to characterize any popular uprising as entirely reliant on the internet. Twitter, facebook, etc. can only catalyze offline factors. Trends like the popular revival of Islam, failures of economies to meet rising expectations, the growth of ethno-linguistic nationalism, and demographic shifts all suggest heightened chances for political instability in the medium- to long-term. It is difficult to look at how the internet is being used in Central Asia at present and not see it playing an organizing and catalyzing role in the future should these trends keep drifting Central Asia toward instability. However, it is absolutely impossible at present to predict how or when the internet will play an appreciably important role. The only thing that is certain is that more clarity on these questions comes from focusing on discussions and practices within society than from monitoring the state-society dynamic.

The U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom released its annual report this week, recommending the State Department list several states in Central Asia as “countries of particular concern,” places where the government commits or tolerates egregious violations of religious liberty. Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan are, of course, well-established members of this club. However, Tajikistan is recommended for inclusion for the first time. It has been on the USCIRF’s watch list since 2009.

Tajikistan’s recommendation for CPC designation comes in response to the recent and ongoing expansion of regulations governing religious practice such as the new parental responsibility law banning minors from most types of religious activities and new, harsher penalties for violations of religious laws. Additionally, Tajikistan continued to shut down unregistered mosques in 2011. It comes as no surprise that Tajikistan’s government says that these laws are necessary to protect society, especially children, from extremist influences.

The report has a 10 page detailed summary of Tajikistan’s various laws restricting religion and the actions it has taken to repress religion and use laws on religion to target its political and media critics.¹

Turkmenistan ² and Uzbekistan ³ earn their recommendations for their pervasively totalitarian approach to governing religion and persecuting those who step out of the narrow boundaries of acceptable practice. For Uzbekistan, the USCIRF additionally has compiled in the full report’s appendices (PDF) a list of prisoners arrested and/or sentenced from January 2011 to February 2012 for Muslim religious activities or affiliation with a Muslim group. The list includes 65 names of individuals primarily prosecuted under articles 244-2 or 216 for membership or participation in the activities of illegal religious organizations. Almost all of the cases cited were tried in or near Tashkent, meaning the full list of those charged with these crimes over the past year is almost certainly much higher.

For each country it recommends for CPC designation, the USCIRF lists detailed policy recommendations. Many of the recommendations are fairly standard stuff — making religious freedom a high-priority issue in bilateral relationships, keeping security assistance from the ministries typically engaged in these abuses, etc. However, they recommend a 180 day window to press Uzbekistan for concrete improvements. Should those efforts fail (and one should expect they would), then they say the waivers that have been granted since 2009 should be lifted and sanctions, including a ban on visits to the US by high- and mid-level Uzbek officials should commence.

As several of us have argued many times in the past, it is highly unlikely that the U.S. or Europe have the ability to convince Uzbekistan or Turkmenistan to change their ways. One should only be slightly less pessimistic. With the planned withdrawal from Afghanistan, this is a good time to press the need for reform and hammer that it is connected to each government’s desire to stabilize their own countries and the wider region. Unfortunately, the position of each government is likely to maintain course or crack down even harder as the international presence in Afghanistan decreases as they see they Islamic revivals going on in their countries as inextricably tied to extremist groups operating in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Though the near term prospects for change in Turkmenistan, Tajikstan, and Uzbekistan are all fairly bleak, nothing is permanent, and there are hopeful signs that society will demand and force change in the longer term. Given this dynamic, the USCIRF recommendation that travel and exchange activities for civil society activists and religious leaders be expanded and protected is very welcome. In the case of Uzbekistan, they acknowledge that the government targets alumni of these exchange programs, and they recommend protesting and penalizing such harassment by refusing high-level meetings, for example. With few good options for creating change in the region, this may be one small opportunity to make a difference in the long term.

Photo credit: Flickr user Yodod.

In the last two months, we’ve born witness to more incidents of illiberal democracy or democracy’s “doubles” here in Central Asia/Eurasia, from Kazakhstan’s parliamentary elections which many say was an experiment in pseudo-pluralism; to Turkmenistan’s surreal presidential election that has left those of us on the outside (and, indeed, many of those on the inside) scratching their heads wondering what it was all about to begin with; to Russia’s intriguingly complex and probably historical presidential poll. Still to come in the next few years are parliamentary elections in Armenia and Tajikistan, and presidential elections in Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Tajikistan, none of which are expected by Western observers to be free and fair. The question I hear a lot from non-specialists is: why are these societies even bothering with the charade? At the moment, this is the shape of my answer:

Central Asian/Eurasian politics can be easily dismissed as tired Sovietisms re-worked into cynical caricatures of the West. Unfortunately, as I get to know this part of the world better, I’m increasingly not so convinced that it’s us Westerners who are being mocked; instead, what’s happening to the concept of liberal democracy here is actually very much part of a universal phenomenon. Just ask any civil society activist and they’ll tell you how “liberal democracy” can and is frequently bastardized to mean “popular legitimacy”, and “popular legitimacy” is, in turn, bastardized to mean “approval for the regime’s policies”. The uncomfortable reality is that this as true in the archetypal liberal democracy, the United States of America, wherein elected officials routinely and conveniently distort the widespread (albeit diminishing) voter apathy of the country to mask the hijacking of policy-making by special interests, as it is true in, say, Kazakhstan, whose consistently high voter turnout (in comparison to the USA), masks the authoritarian tendencies of the dominant ruling party (all the more so if the turnout figures prove to be false). In both cases, what we’re really dealing with is legitimacy-engineering, intended to buttress a constellation of elites and their related pet institutions and industries by a transference of moral authority from the grassroots to the top.

Make no mistake, the target of the legitimacy-engineering is primarily internal: the grassroots itself (particularly the electorate), as well as rivals for power (real or perceived). The electorate, thanks to a terrible education and media system, simply don’t know any better; the rivals, having achieved a position of relative elitism to have access to more information, do know better but catch the hint and respond accordingly (i.e., silence and subterfuge). Insofar that the legitimacy-engineering has an external orientation, this is a secondary, although not unimportant goal, namely, to deflect criticism via the logic of national self-determination. Indeed, democratic elections can accomplish what divine right of kings or Marxist dialectical materialism never could, namely, to give the impression of collective agreement with respect to a regime’s choices. And yes, in all of this I am talking as much about my homeland as I am about the Central Asian/Eurasian states (I am probably sounding like a very bitter expatriate right now). The benefactor of the legitimacy-engineering is not as clear in the American context as in the Central Asian/Eurasian one, but in both cases, it’s really a system that’s receiving the moral authority, not just the man on top.

Yet, speaking of the men on top, just as presidents of the United States can be prone to messianic depictions of themselves — either of the Terror or Hope variety of eschatology — Central Asian/Eurasian presidents notoriously have a penchant for the salvific. Besides the late Niyazov, Karimov spring to mind, and in his own way, Bakiyev had a tinge of the deliverer to his administration, as well, and Putin and Aliyev frequently co-opt still-fresh memories of societal turmoil in their favor. Along these lines, I actually have a begrudging respect for Nazarbayev: his golden handprint in the Baiterek is actually not so much an expression of megalomania as it is a statement of fact, namely, that he has left an indelible mark upon his country, like it or not, for better and for worse. That’s more than I can say for all the “Change” that’s happened in the United States since 2008 (at least in my cynical moments). But again, in all cases, the target is internal, the goal still is and always is legitimacy-engineering. The era of elections setting the course of a nation rather than approving a pre-set path — if it ever existed — is fast receding into the past here and in the West.

But then there’s Turkmenistan. I think, unfortunately, this country is an outlier. I’ve got a sinking feeling in my gut that it is increasingly fruitless to seek any kind of rationality oriented toward the outside world from the Turkmen president, even vis-à-vis his immediate neighbors, much less the West. If there is any logic to his behavior, then it’s most likely in response to internal power dynamics, the nature of which are invisible to the outside eye (although there are clues). But before we start thinking that this is still in keeping with the overall trends in managed democracy, we should consider the thoughts of my colleague Annasoltan, who has come to fear that what we’re really looking at in Turkmenistan is the possible mental deterioration of Berdimuhammedov. The presidential election, then, may have really been driven by the illogic of ego and insecurity: this time around, the legitimacy-engineering was directed not at the grassroots, but by the establishment toward the president himself.

Power-plays and madness are not mutually co-exclusive, of course, and in fact the latter can sometimes be a pretty good tool in the former, just ask Caligula. Moreover, determining how much of this exercise in megalomania was the initiative of Berdimuhammedov and how much of it arose from the overall regime, and for which purposes, could be enlightening. Until those facts can come to the light of history, unfortunately, all the rest of us can do is stand outside Turkmenistan’s parallel universe and wonder about its strange physics, a political physics in which the logic of liberalism and democracy are twisted to reduce an entire society into instrumental extensions of one single ego.

Scott Radnitz has a provocative take in Foreign Policy:

On the surface, Central Asia would appear to be ripe for a popular uprising modeled on the Arab Spring. The “stans” are home to repressive governments, high unemployment, inequality, and widespread corruption. Over a year has passed since the wave of protests began to spread across the Arab world. Yet there’s been no comparable sign of popular discontent in this other Muslim-majority region…

Or, more accurately, criminality is integral to the functioning of the system. It is no secret that in Central Asia many government jobs are for sale. People who can afford a lucrative post, whether operating a state agency or running a province, can expect to get a return on their investment. Rulers understand that their subordinates are greedy, and allow them to exploit their position as long as they also perform their basic duties, such as keeping order in the provinces or passing on revenues to the state budget. (This arrangement resembles a practice in pre-revolutionary France called tax farming.) …

Thus, we see a picture of dictatorship that is far from the orderly, meticulous image dictators seek to project. Central Asia’s leaders have distinguished themselves as expert managers of greed and graft, but because this system rests on informal agreements and depends on the personality of the ruler, it is also fragile. The episodes above hint at possible troubles, but the possibilities are more alarming when we consider historical examples of how apparent stability can suddenly give way to instability on a massive scale. What could cause such a breakdown in Central Asia?

There’s a lot to unpack here. I understand the need for framing, but “Arabs are Muslim and Central Asians are Muslims so why aren’t they behaving the same” is an awful frame (I will assume that was decided by the FP editors, since they’ve done similar things to other authors). Radnitz goes on to wonder if the lack of succession for the tyrans of the region is the most likely flashpoint for a sudden breakdown of order.

It’s a compelling story, with one exception: Turkmenistan. The one country where you’d expect a secretive palace politics would lead to a massive breakdown in order and control after a tyrant’s sudden passing, in Turkmenistan we instead saw an orderly consolidation of the local elites to discard the established succession laws and emplace Berdimuhamedov as the new replacement tyrant. In return, the elites of the country — who profit handsomely from the country’s vast gas reserves — continue to profit handsomely from their positions.

Despite the lack of known succession plans in Kazakhstan, this is the most likely result when Nazarbayev kicks it. Right now, the current elite structure benefits greatly from the status quo, so it’s likely that they will organize to continue that status quo when the top becomes a vacuum.

In Uzbekistan, there’s likely to be at least an attempt to maintain a similar continuation when Karimov dies. Despite the grand warnings of total chaos when he kicks it, in all likelihood there will be at least an attempt by the current elite class to consolidate power and just replace the dictator at the top. Using Radnitz’s hypothesis that it’s the distribution of loot that solidifies regime stability, Uzbekistan’s many economic issues could come into play in that scenario, but there’s no way to know if that would be the case.

However, this is where Radnitz’s piece doesn’t quite gel together. His title, intro, and conclusion reference the Arab Spring and Tahir Square. In most cases, those events, collectively, were masses of normal people agitating for regime change — not the collected elites of a given system. Radnitz does not actually discuss why the people of Central Asia are not taking to the streets to demand freedom and whatnot (he also elides past the fact that so far, Tahir Square in Egypt hasn’t really altered the oppression of democracy activists there but that’s probably another post).

In this case, the repressiveness of the Central Asia regimes might offer a clue. The December riots and massacre in Zhanaozen, Kazakhstan, did not prompt massive demonstrations in support of the victims elsewhere in the country. In Uzbekistan, a brief protest movement in Andijon in 2005 led to years of increased oppression but never a repeat of the massive protest that preceded the killing. In Turkmenistan, regime control is so tight that even rappers have to toe a very uncertain line about upsetting the authorities. And in Tajikistan, it’s unclear that there is much of a movement against the Rahmon regime at all, to say anything of a growing society-wide movement.

It’s really only in Kyrgyzstan where we’ve seen a mass movement coalesce into a regime change. And many Kyrgyz I’ve spoken with have expressed frustration, even regret at what that’s done to their country (the constant upheaval has not exactly served most Kyrgyz well). Other regimes and other publics, too, look at what Kyrgyzstan has gone through trying to establish what the International Community would consider “normal” politics and see something to be avoided, not a shining example to replicate. Many Kyrgyz, too, openly express a desire for a Putin-like figure who can impose order on the chaos, rather than more voting and more turmoil.

So maybe that’s part of the answer as well. Central Asia’s first experiment with democratic revolution hasn’t exactly worked out for them. It makes it hard to argue that other countries — especially relatively well-off places like Kazakhstan — should try to replicate that for themselves.

For at least the last seven or eight years, the Prokudin-Gorskii collection of color photos of the Russian empire taken in the early 20th century, gets noticed and reported by journalists, history buffs, and photography enthusiasts. Less well known is that the Turkestan Album, a series of volumes on the people, architecture, history, and economy of Russian Turkestan commissioned by General von Kaufman, the Empire’s first Governor-General in Turkestan, was also digitized by the Library of Congress and made available several years ago. (Many thanks to Fergana News for writing about this, which reminded me that I had a draft post on this from 2007.)

The bulk of the photos in the collection were taken in 1871 and 1872, while some images in the historical volume date back to 1853. The collection contains well over 1,000 photos and is a phenomenal resource not only for a glimpse into Central Asia of the mid- to late-19th century, but also into how the Russian Empire viewed the people of these territories.

(P.S. — Fergana News also recently posted some interesting photos of clay structures in Uzbekistan taken between 1974 and 1989.)

Last week, the US Helsinki Commission held a hearing on Kazakhstan’s stability, looking at the violence in Zhanaozen and the recent parliamentary elections and questioning whether or not Kazakhstan is as stable as its government claims. The testimony, which can be found here is interesting and worth taking a look at. Included with the expert testimony are also statements from Kazakhstan’s embassy and from the Alga People’s Party and People’s Front.

Sean Roberts identifies in his testimony several changes in Kazakhstan’s economy and society to which the government has been poorly prepared to respond and which increase the possibility that recent violence in Kazakhstan is the beginning of a longer period of less stability. They are:

1. The rapid growth of Islam’s popularity in Kazakhstan’s society, an process going on since the early ’90s has recently become more apparent in public. This public religiosity, which does not suggest the threat of terrorism or a near term move toward political Islam, is poorly understood by the government and the country’s secular middle class.
2. The growth of ethnic Kazakh nationalism, also ongoing since the early ’90s, but recently taking on new characteristics that heighten tensions.
3. Rising and unmet economic expectations.

I’m paraphrasing, but on the first two items, Dr. Roberts argues that the thoroughly Soviet education and background of Kazakhstan’s leadership leaves it out of touch and unable to adequately respond to the public. The government’s response to labor strikes, including the violence in Zhanaozen, he says, show that the government was not prepared to deal with dissatisfaction over unmet economic expectations. Dr. Roberts says that these challenges are not extreme nor likely to cause widespread unrest in the near term, but that the stagnancy of the political system means that the government lacks mechanisms to deal with large socio-economic changes. [Note: Alima wrote about the crisis of unmet expectations at length recently.]

This is good, succinct analysis of the situation that puts risks to Kazakhstan’s stability in good context. The risks are there, the government is ill-prepared to deal with them at present, but it’s unlikely that it will be overwhelmed by them soon.

These risks, however, aren’t present only in Kazakhstan. They exist in similar forms and combinations throughout Central Asia. Growing segments of society throughout the region are bringing (or attempting to…) Islam into the public square, where it is responded to with shock and terror by secular officials. National economies are failing to meet the expectations, and in many areas, even the basic needs, of the public. And though nationalism is not so clearly a problem the way it is Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan in the rest of Central Asia, there are small signs that society is challenging the state’s monopoly on defining what it means to be Uzbek, Tajik, Kyrgyz, etc.

In talking about risks to stability, there is often a tendency to focus on presidential succession, the specter of fundamentalism and political Islam, and a more recent tendency to talk about replication of the Arab Spring. Recent history should make it abundantly clear though, that analysts, experts, and observers are taken by surprise in the region. Game-planning what happens after Karimov dies or a resurgence of the IMU activity in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan might be worthless because they assume state and society lack the mechanisms to respond to and manage succession or terrorist groups.

The greatest risks to stability throughout the region are medium- to long-term risks arising from the three aforementioned factors and the oppositional relationship between state and society. Devising a list of indicators and warnings based on the three factors Dr. Roberts identifies — rising public religiosity, increasing nationalism, and under-performance in the economy — are more likely not only to lead to better anticipation of the trajectory of stability in Central Asia but also to provide a better idea of when serious risks to stability are likely to arise.

Photo by Tiina Oikarinen

My think tank, the American Security Project, has teamed up with The Atlantic to run a 12-article series I edited about U.S. foreign policy 20 years after the fall of the Soviet Union, which happens on Christmas. There have been some really interesting essays in there that aren’t directly relevant to what we write about here, such as the fate of the U.S. defense industry under austerity conditions, how today is actually the most peaceful period in recent history, and even about the global scramble for energy. Former Senator Gary Hart, the chairman of ASP’s board, wrote a fascinating rumination on U.S.-Russian relations over the last two decades that’s worth sharing.

Alexis de Toqueville’s famous prediction in 1835 that America and Russia, two great continental powers, would someday play leading roles in the world was predated by Russian exploration of the Western American continent as far south as today’s California and thereafter qualified by the landing of a small U.S. expeditionary force in Siberia during the Russian Revolution. But throughout the Cold War, de Toqueville seemed prescient indeed.

The shared global leadership between America and Russia ended two decades ago. The 74 year Russian detour into communism can be viewed only as if rapidly retreating in a rear-view mirror. But the end of the Cold War revealed a curious anomaly in U.S. foreign policy thought. Much to the surprise of Russians and many Americans, including myself, instead of rushing to embrace Russia and drawing it closely into Western economic, political, and security circles, we have resorted to reliance on personal relationships between American and Russian presidents as the basis for our bilateral relationships. And we continue to hold Russia suspiciously at arm’s length.

There has been little, if any, explanation of this suspicion toward Russia and its roots in the American mind, or at least in the minds of certain foreign policy experts. Arguably, we have better relations with China than Russia and spend a great deal more effort in tending to that relationship. In gauging how close or how distant to remain regarding another nation or power, the measure ought to be whether there are more interests in common than in opposition. By that measure, our relationship to Russia ought to be among our closest.

And yet. I hinted in the previous post that I’d have some more about what we can think of in reaction to Kazakhstan’s two decades of independence. Soon my contribution to this collection will be out, which will chart the U.S.’s fraught policy in the region over the last 20 years, and wonders where it’s really going in the future (and if that matters). But for now, I’ll draw your attention to the great work our contributors here at Registan.net did in discussing such an important milestone about specific countries.

• “Kyrgyzstan at 20: What Now?” — Noah Tucker
• “Happy Birthday, Uzbekistan” — Sarah Kendzior
• “Kazakhstan — 20 Years After Independence” — Michael Hancock
• “Tajikistan At 20” — Christian Bleuer

Read those to get a sense of what sort of issues we’re dealing with.

The BBC has a very nice photo series up right now called Tajik Village Life. It’s a quick nine, with the obligatory old person looking wistful and remembering the good ol’ days, but the the photos are nice and the scenery stunning.

On September 9th, Tajikistan marks the 20th anniversary of its declaration of independence. What can be said about Tajikistan 20 years after independence? The word ‘survival’ comes to mind first and foremost. Unfortunately, Tajikistan is defined from the outside mostly by its civil war – not by any connection to the Samanid Empire or the ambitious planned hydroelectric projects. While the war officially ended in 1997, there was continued violence – a direct legacy of the conflict. However, the violence steadily declined. During my recent time in Tajikistan I felt that I was living in one of the safer places on earth. True, crime is low and the state is not exactly under siege, but there are still episodes of political violence. In the last several years there have been serious incidents such as the clashes between government security forces and what appear to be the last of the irreconcilables. Mirzo Ziyoev was killed while Ali Bedaki and Mullo Abdullo were dispatched like the sad remnants of some long-marginalized guerilla force. Of course, this came with a price: the loss of security forces who died in these clashes.

Theses recent clashes have been defined in two different ways. The first argues that the fighting was a sign of the weakness of the Tajik government and a possible prelude the state failure – however one may wish to define it. The second argument notes that all the known “trouble-makers were eliminated,” with the exception of one who has promised to go back to work and play nice. This argument relies on the fact that there are not hundreds of Mullo Abdullos and successors in the field like there are in Afghanistan. Yet the government of Tajikistan still points to other perceived threats. Frequently mentioned are the Islamic Movement of Tajikistan, Hizb ut-Tahrir, Jamaat ut-Tabligh, and other less well-known groups. Of course, few independent analysts believe that Hizb ut-Tahrir and Jamaat ut-Tabligh do anything more than talk. As for the IMU, if they are as pervasive as the governments of Central Asia believe, then I don’t understand how they are so inactive in the former Soviet republics of Central Asia. For a ratio of threat assessments to actual terrorist activity, the IMU must be at the bottom of any list – worldwide.

And even further down the actual-threat list is the former Popular Front ally Mahmud Khudoyberdiev – either long-dead or long-retired. Tajikistan’s government structures occasionally bring his name up with the implication that the Uzbek government is sheltering him and hoping to repeat his 1998 incursion into Tajikistan. Whatever the case, he has done nothing since 1998 except be a useful boogeyman for some in the Tajik government.

Of course, the worst of the violent conflict in Tajikistan is long over. But for how long is “no more war” going to be good enough for the people of Tajikistan? Many experts were wrong about North Africa, Syria, etc…Will even more experts be proven wrong on Central Asia? Of course, repression + poverty does not automatically = governments being overthrown. But an analysis that goes a little deeper than the factors mentioned above is required.

Beyond terrorism and insurgency, there is the issue of a weak economy. It may be growing, but from a rather low level. Tajikistan is, in fact, the poorest of the former Soviet republics. And no country on earth relies on the cash remittances of foreign guest workers as much as Tajikistan does. All this with a rapidly growing youth population, very few of whom have decent job prospects. And, as must be mentioned, all of this is taking place in an environment of stifling corruption. Of course, President Rahmon’s master plan relies on the construction of the Rogun hydroelectric dam. The cost is far beyond the means of Tajikistan, and foreign funders are not lining up to support the project in the same way that an Iranian company stepped in to fund the completion of the Sangtuda hydroelectric project. A further complication is the downstream country of Uzbekistan, which feels strongly that the change patterns of water flow will harm its agricultural sector.

The involvement of Uzbekistan merits further attention, as the two countries have been intimately connected throughout recent history, even well before the arrival of the Russians in the region. Culturally, economically and geographically the two countries are connected at the hip. Unfortunately, the relationship is a poor one – especially between President Rahmon and President Karimov. Border crossings are now often a very difficult process, and in some rural areas the border is actually mined and patrolled by willing-to-shoot Uzbek border guards. Uzbekistan cites the dangers of drug trafficking and terrorism and won’t budge on the border issue.

As for drug trafficking, Tajikistan is at the forefront of the heroin trade as a major transit route, Yet, despite claims that drug trafficking is a threat to stability, the drug traffickers here are not of the Mexican variety. They are not in conflict with the state or with the security structures to any significant extent. There appears to be a relationship here, one that can be debated (gated PDF).

And what of Tajikistan’s role in geopolitics? It has recently affirmed its position as being firmly underneath Russia’s “security umbrella,” an obvious enough outcome.

But what of the American factor? With the withdrawal/drawdown of troops from Afghanistan in 2014, will the United States seek to bolster its position in the region, or will it move into a more isolationist phrase? That’s unknown, but what of the Tajik leadership’s perceptions? In a lengthy interview the analyst Arkady Dubnov stated:

I’ve been watching the Tajik leadership’s stance and policies over the last 20 years, and I’ve said publicly on several occasions that Dushanbe overestimates its influence in the region and in the world.

And later in the interview:

The constant refrain from Dushanbe is that if things go wrong with the Russians, they can always try with the Americans. It’s obvious game-playing.

So…Tajikistan will either be showered with American largesse or will be forgotten, or somewhere in between. As for Russia, who knows how that will work out, but Tajikistan needs Russia desperately both economically and militarily. And the Afghan factor? Speculating on how Afghanistan will come to affect its northern neighbors would require more space than is available here. Predicting future geopolitical arrangements is an exercise in futility, so I’ll end on that note.