The Military and the State in Central Asia: From Red Army to Independence 0415493471, 9780415493475

Table of contents :
Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Introduction: Military and state-building in Central Asia
1 Central Asian military during the Soviet regime
2 "We won the war": Competing memories of the Soviet war in Afghanistan
3 Military institutions as part of state-building during independence
4 Russian Bear v. Asian Tiger: Competing regional security quasi-regimes
5 NATO and the West in Central Asia
6 From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military
Conclusion: What lies ahead?
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

The Military and the State in Central Asia

The military played a pivotal role in the political development, state functions, foreign policy and the daily lives of the people in the Central Asian states from the early twentieth century until the present. This book is the first major, in-depth study of the military institutions in Central Asian states. It examines their hidden story, the different stages of their development from the early twentieth century until the present, and the influence they had on the state and society. It effectively combines history, sociology of the military and political science and provides deeper insights into how recently formed states function. By concentrating extensively on the military, this book is an important and timely contribution to a wide range of disciplines including Central Asian studies, and post-colonial state and nation-building studies. Erica Marat is a Central Asia analyst. She specializes in military institutions, state-building, and organized crime in post-colonial states, with a special interest in the Central Asian region. She is an author of numerous academic and policy publications, including The Tulip Revolution: Kyrgyzstan One Year After (2006).

Central Asian studies series

1 Mongolia Today Science, culture, environment and development Edited by Dendevin Badarch and Raymond A. Zilinskas 2 Turkestan and the Fate of the Russian Empire Daniel Brower 3 Church of the East A concise history Wilhelm Baum and Dietmar W. Winkler 4 Pre-tsarist and Tsarist Central Asia Communal commitment and political order in change Paul Georg Geiss 5 Russia’s Protectorates in Central Asia Bukhara and Khiva, 1865–1924 Seymour Becker 6 Russian Culture in Uzbekistan One language in the middle of nowhere David MacFadyen 7 Everyday Islam in Post-Soviet Central Asia Maria Elisabeth Louw 8 Kazakhstan Ethnicity, language and power Bhavna Dave 9 Ethno-Nationalism, Islam and the State in the Caucasus Post-Soviet disorder Edited by Moshe Gammer

10 Humanitarian Aid in Post-Soviet Countries An anthropological perspective Laëtitia Atlani-Duault 11 Muslim-Christian Relations in Central Asia A. Christian van Gorder 12 The Northwest Caucasus Past, present, future Walter Richmond 13 Turkmenistan’s Foreign Policy Positive neutrality and the consolidation of the Turkmen Regime Luca Anceschi 14 Conflict Transformation in Central Asia Irrigation disputes in the Ferghana Valley Christine Bichsel 15 Socialist Revolutions in Asia The social history of Mongolia in the 20th century Irina Y. Morozova 16 Post-Conflict Tajikistan The politics of peacebuilding and the emergence of a legitimate order John Heathershaw 17 The Politics of Transition in Central Asia and the Caucasus Enduring legacies and emerging challenges Edited by Amanda E. Wooden and Christoph H. Stefes 18 Islamic Education in the Soviet Union and its Successor States Edited by Michael Kemper, Raoul Motika and Stefan Reichmuth 19 The Military and the State in Central Asia From Red Army to independence Erica Marat

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The Military and the State in Central Asia From Red Army to independence

Erica Marat

First published 2010 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2010 Erica Marat Typeset in Times New Roman by Swales and Willis Ltd, Exeter, Devon Printed and bound in Great Britain by The MPG Books Group All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN10: 0–415–49347–1 (hbk) ISBN10: 0–203–87365–3 (ebk) ISBN13: 978–0–415–49347–5 (hbk) ISBN13: 978–0–203–87365–6 (ebk)

Contents

Acknowledgments Abbreviations

viii ix

Introduction: Military and state-building in Central Asia

1

1

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

8

2

“We won the war”: Competing memories of the Soviet war in Afghanistan

33

3

Military institutions as part of state-building during independence

53

4

Russian Bear v. Asian Tiger: Competing regional security quasi-regimes

81

5

NATO and the West in Central Asia

104

6

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military

116

Conclusion: What lies ahead?

133

Notes Bibliography Index

140 150 155

Acknowledgments

The publishers and the author would like to thank the following for permission to reprint material in The Military and the State in Central Asia: The Journal of Power Institutions in Post-Soviet States, for permission to reprint material from “State-propagated narratives about a National Defender in Central Asian States”, The Journal of Power Institutions in Post-Soviet States, Issue 6/7, 2007, http://www.pipss.org/index545.html. China and Eurasia Forum Quarterly for kind permission to reprint material from “Soviet Military Legacy and Regional Cooperation in Central Asia”, China and Eurasia Forum Quarterly, Volume 5, No. 1 (2007), pp. 83–114.

Abbreviations

ASSR AVU CACO CAU CCPIM CentrAsBat CIS CRRF CPSU CST CSTO ENP EurAsEC GUAM ICBM IMU IPAP ISAF IRP MD MRD NDP NKVD NPT OSCE NSS PAP-DIB PDP PfP RATS RevMC RKKA SCO

Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic Afghan Veteran Union Central Asian Cooperation Organization Central Asian Union Coordinating Council on the Prevention of Illegal Migration Central Asian Battalion Commonwealth of Independent States Collective Rapid Reaction Forces Communist Party of the Soviet Union Collective Security Treaty Collective Security Treaty Organization European Neighborhood Policy Eurasian Economic Community Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova Intercontinental Ballistic Missile Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan Individual Partnership Action Plan International Security Assistance Force Islamic Renaissance Party Military District Motor Rifle Division National Democratic Party (Afghanistan) People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe National Security Service Partnership Action Plan on Defense Institution Building People’s Democratic Party (Tajikistan) Partnership for Peace Regional Anti-Terrorism Structure Revolutionary Military Council Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army Shanghai Cooperation Organization

x

Abbreviations

SNB START UTO

Uzbekistan National Security Service Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty United Tajik Opposition

Introduction Military and state-building in Central Asia

Soon after Tajikistan declared independence from Moscow in September 1991, supporters of the United Tajik Opposition (UTO) movement began gathering in central Dushanbe, demanding that the government assure the political representation of all regions. Several one-day protests organized by the UTO and pro-government forces escalated into armed confrontations in Dushanbe and its outskirts. The UTO was comprised of reformist and moderate Islamist forces that opposed the Russian-backed Tajik government. As the UTO’s demands to balance political representation grew louder, its actions attracted more supporters in 1992, and the party acquired enough weapons to challenge the new post-Soviet regime. The Tajik government, led by communist Rakhmon Nobiyev, was able to amass a Popular Front which, however, failed to meet the manpower and armament capacity of opposition forces. For months the anti-communist groupings were better armed than the government. The imbalance in military power led to clashes that killed 20,000 to 40,000 citizens and injured thousands more. Tajikistan was a new state and lacked its own military capacity, resulting in an abrupt escalation of conflict between the government comprised of mainly northern elites and opposition forces formed in southern parts of the country. Moscow took a fairly passive approach despite the fact that the 201st Motor Rifle Division (MRD), the only major military facility in Tajikistan, was under Russian control. As several Tajik experts argue, although tensions between secular and religious forces were difficult to prevent in the early 1990s, the brutal armed confrontation could had been deterred if the government had possessed sufficient military capacity to defeat the opposition. Meanwhile, in neighboring Uzbekistan President Islam Karimov also faced religious and political activists. After a political group Adolat organized riots in November 1991 in the eastern city of Namangan, Karimov was pressured into declaring Uzbekistan to be an Islamic Republic. Karimov acquiesced to requests from Adolat leaders Tohir Yuldashev and Jumaboy Hojiyev, as the Namangan rioters were serious and determined. But Karimov, embarrassed in front of the Uzbek population, launched an aggressive campaign against the religious opposition, in the weeks following the encounter with Adolat. Both Yuldashev and Hojiyev, along with a dozen other religious activists, were forced into exile. Unlike Tajikistan, Uzbekistan inherited elaborate security structures from the Soviet

2

Introduction

regime that allowed President Karimov to emerge as the undisputed national leader, who would not tolerate any opposition movement. While both Tajikistan and Uzbekistan faced newly mobilized opposition groups in the early 1990s, they responded differently to secure domestic sovereignty. In Tajikistan’s case, Nobiyev’s government lacked the capacity to prevent the religious opposition from taking up arms. Karimov, in contrast, was able to eliminate any critics of his regime by deploying an extensive network of domestic security and military forces shortly after his unpleasant encounter in Namangan. The leaders of Tajikistan and Uzbekistan in the early 1990s both understood the importance of the military for preserving the ruling regime and for nourishing sovereignty after the collapse of the Soviet regime. Both cases once again confirm the long-held arguments about the importance of a state-controlled military and state control over violence, especially in a young state.1 During the early years of independence the military can become the focal point for building a sense of national unity and guaranteeing a stable future. Any new state or regime aspiring for domestic and international sovereignty will need at least a minimal contingent of armed personnel. Almost all of the new states born in the twentieth century had some type of armed forces at their disposal, in addition to police forces and national guards.2 The case of Tajikistan, however, shows that a severe shortage of state-controlled armed forces in the early years of independence can encourage non-state actors to acquire weapons quicker than the incumbent regime and, ultimately, to launch a civil war between a communist government and opposition troops. The military’s central role in the functioning of the state became evident in Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan somewhat later than their southern neighbors. Only after a clash between guerrillas of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) and Kyrgyz border guards in summer 1999 did Kyrgyz President Askar Akayev begin to pay more attention to developing his country’s military institutions by revising military regulations and procurement and by increasing the prestige of military service. In that clash the Kyrgyz side lost 32 people, including 26 military personnel, and over 50 people were injured. Another 27 people died in a renewed outbreak in summer 2000.3 The conflict revealed the doomed state of Kyrgyzstan’s Interior, Border Guard and Defense personnel; the three branches failed to cooperate among themselves and their delayed reaction to the violence led to an unnecessary loss of lives and equipment. Akayev belatedly admitted that his government had underestimated the importance of the army in state security.4 In the following years Akayev launched a number of changes in the military structure by revising his cadre politics, enlarging the number of troops and increasing defense financing. As for Kazakhstan, its rapidly growing economy throughout the 2000s, combined with its desire to chair the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), fostered a number of important reforms in the military sector. The country’s intensive cooperation with NATO through the Partnership for Peace (PfP) encouraged the gradual formation of a new type of army based on contract service and led to the appointment of a civilian defense minister in January 2007. As Kazakhstan’s 2010 OSCE chairmanship neared, it led the region with its links with NATO and its ability to counter the spreading influence of the Russian-led

Introduction

3

Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO). Military reforms occurred alongside the transformation of other state institutions. Kazakhstan’s successful cooperation with NATO facilitated its international integration and contributed to its new reputation as a nation with great economic and political potential. Despite these extensive developments, Western studies of political and social developments in Central Asia rarely incorporate military institutions in any systematic way. Part of the reason for such scholarly ignorance is the specialized nature of military studies, which often requires access to confidential sources. The governments of Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, in particular, limit access to military data, leaving only a handful of documents available to the public. Scholars have also preferred to study the national armies of militarily stronger postSoviet states, such as Russia and Ukraine. But, as this book demonstrates, military-sector reform in Central Asia often reflects broader state-building and nation-building processes for several reasons. First, the military provides an indispensable framework for identifying the ruling regime’s weaknesses and strengths in terms of centralizing the government, implementing policies, dealing with opposition forces and allowing civil liberties. Second, civil-military relations and intra-military relations are also indicators of the state’s commitment to democratization and international integration. The states’ international cooperation with UN, NATO and other organizations promoting the democratization of military institutions is a useful yardstick for measuring and comparing the transformation of the state from a Soviet-type regime toward more liberal polities. For instance, Kazakhstan demonstrates that a state’s drive to increase cooperation with NATO and individual Western states can inspire democratic reform in the military as well as in the political and economic domains. Even in Uzbekistan, the national government allowed greater fiscal freedom and permitted international NGOs to operate on its territory during a short period of cooperative relations with the United States and NATO after the September 11 terrorist attacks. Further, unlike most other public sectors, the military allows more systematic monitoring of its institutional reform by the appointment of civilian professionals in top positions, their ability to formulate and implement credible defense policies, the parliament’s participation in military planning and other areas. For instance, a Central Asian president’s decision to appoint or dismiss defense and interior ministers often turns into a question of who could best underpin the ruling regimes, giving the personnel choice a deep political meaning. Changes at the top of power ministries, in particular, have a significant impact on the dynamics inside security structures. Karimov’s reshuffle of security sector officials in the aftermath of the Andijan massacre in 2005 – firing Defense Minister Kadyr Gulyamov, Interior Minister Zakirjon Almatov, Head of the Joint Headquarters of the Armed Forces Ismail Ergashev, and commander of the Eastern military district Kosimali Akhmedov – sought to ensure stability within the structures and eliminate uncertainty over political elites’ loyalty to the regime in the face of international criticism. In other cases, the appointment of power ministers reveals the ruling regime’s concerns over its engagement with international partners. Nazarbayev’s

4

Introduction

appointment of the progressive Danial Akhmetov as Defense Minister suggests that a desire to integrate with international security organizations may spur liberalization. The Uzbek president’s appointment of a civilian defense minister (Gulyamov) in 2000 coincided with Uzbekistan’s cooperation with the United States. Finally, the military helps the population understand their country’s relative position vis-à-vis neighbors, friends and rivals. For example, after Uzbek forces unilaterally crossed into Tajikistan during the latter’s civil war and into Kyrgyzstan in 1999 at the peak of the IMU’s campaign in Batken, Kyrgyz and Tajik experts – and the public in general – feared that Uzbekistan’s growing military had become a threat to their own national security. The lack of official records about Uzbekistan’s subsequent military build-up in the 2000s led to widespread speculations. Some forecasts in Kyrgyzstan went as far as to suspect Uzbekistan of forcefully taking over the Toktogul reservoir, a hydro-energy site in Kyrgyzstan of regional significance.5 Further concerns were triggered as Uzbekistan’s military and police intelligence services operated extensively in southern Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. The killing of Imam Muhammadrafiq Kamalov in 2006 and journalist Alisher Saipov in 2007 in southern Kyrgyzstan hinted at the unconstrained presence of the Uzbek secret services on the territory of Kyrgyzstan. Both men had been active critics of Karimov’s regime. Moscow discovered that military cooperation, not political or economic ties, was the most effective way to engage the Central Asian states and continue the Soviet tradition of hierarchical center–periphery bilateral cooperation and Russia-led multilateral organizations. The Russian-led Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO), for example, confirms that Central Asian governments still perceive Moscow to be central to their own national security. Political and military officials alike welcomed the strengthening of the CSTO in the 2000s, along with growing interaction with their Russian counterparts on security matters. The Kremlin, in turn, fostered cooperation with the Central Asian states, encouraging them to participate in joint military maneuvers. Yet Moscow conveniently forgot its CSTO membership obligations of consulting with other member states, before it unilaterally invaded Georgia’s breakaway territories in August 2008. A month after the military campaign, the Kremlin proposed yet another new military organization that would unite Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan.6 Since independence, Central Asian leaders have used the military and its symbols of authority to legitimize the post-Soviet regimes. The military, not education or healthcare, was the first sector to be nationalized by introducing new legislature, as well as national flags, logos and images of heroes. The military, in turn, became the foundation of national pride in states where it had to play a leading role in preserving stability, such as Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, as well as where it was mostly preoccupied with peace-time tasks – Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan. Along with nationalizing post-Soviet military assets and institutions, ruling regimes also clearly retained their political control over military activities. Each Central Asian state used military resources according to its perception of its domestic and regional security situation. In Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Tajikistan, leaders

Introduction

5

used the power agencies to enforce the ruling regime’s control, while in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan the military exhibited some of the first signs of those states’ general determination to bring about more democratization. While Nazarbayev had a clear vision of Kazakhstan’s future armed forces and command structure, the other four Central Asian states continue to focus on troop levels as an indicator of state strength. The more the regime was threatened at home and abroad, the more it tried to control its security structures.

Roadmap The book begins with the hidden story of the Red Army – its multifaceted impact on the daily lives of local people and its role in the formation of the post-Soviet Central Asian states. Chapter 1 shows that today’s military institutions in Central Asia have roots in the earliest days of the Soviet Union. The military was the primary institution used to consolidate and Sovietize the Central Asian republics during the period the 1920s to the 1930s. It was the main force used to create the proletariat class and change the political views of the local population. By the 1930s the military had produced its own cadre of commanders and heroes from among the indigenous peoples, which allowed it to mobilize the public during Stalin’s war against Nazi Germany. The Turkestani military district, established in Central Asia in 1918, would play a major role in the Soviet Union’s war with Afghanistan from 1979 to 1989. Chapter 2 examines how the Soviet military experience shaped the minds of tens of thousands of conscripts in the 1980s. Based on interviews of Afghan veterans, the chapter revisits the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and how the legacies of that war are still reflected in military institutions across the region. It presents an alternative to existing interpretations promulgated by Western literature, a view voiced by the veterans themselves. Unlike Western accounts of the war, the former Soviet soldiers who fought in Afghanistan see it as a source of pride. The war was won by the Soviet Union, they insist, and the Fortieth Army’s internal morale and professionalism was uncontestable. Twenty years after the Soviet withdrawal, Afghan veterans have actively engaged themselves in public and political life, bringing their own brand of patriotism and professionalism into the public space. The chapter, in effect, reveals the untold story of Afghan veterans and examines the role Central Asia played in this context. Chapter 3 tracks the dynamics of civil–military relations prior to the Soviet Union’s collapse. Most Soviet military assets were placed under national jurisdictions, allowing the new, independent states to mobilize them for new armies. While Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan inherited a wider variety and larger quantity of military infrastructure, Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan started with very little. Thus, the Soviet perceptions of military threats in the Central Asian region led to an uneven distribution of resources, which resulted in some states being militarily much stronger and others much weaker at independence. The first post-Soviet military doctrines were similar across Central Asia, except for Turkmenistan, which embraced neutrality. Military legislation and reconstruction plans were often similar as well.

6

Introduction

States nationalized the Soviet military structures on their territory, established the post of Chief of Staff, appointed defense ministers, promoted new national ideologies in the military and joined regional security organizations. These changes were shaped by military developments in Russia and often were influenced by NATO and international NGOs. Yet, the pace and scope of reforms varied according to political leaders’ willingness to transform the military and the state’s capacity to finance reforms. Chapter 4 analyzes the development of the Central Asian militaries and their relations with the state. It concludes with an examination of the rise of the Russianand Chinese-led Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) and the Russian-led CSTO, both of which were important factors in the formation of security policies in the Central Asian states. Both organizations structured regional cooperation. Although criticized for inefficiency, they bound the Central Asian states together with a set of regional obligations. A sense of solidarity in the face of terrorist outbreaks colored the organizations’ development. The organizations regularly conduct interstate military training drills where regular soldiers have a chance to learn about new military technologies supplied by Russia or China. However, neither organization has been particularly effective at preventing radical groups from acting at a local level. Their usefulness in cases of armed clashes or terrorist outbreaks is, therefore, questionable. The SCO and CSTO confirm the idea that the collapse of the Soviet Union was rather a reconfiguration of relations between Russia and its neighbors, with Moscow still in control of Russia’s relations with the Central Asian states. Military frameworks proved to be more successful than attempts to restore economic ties. Chapter 5 analyzes NATO’s experience in the region. NATO’s failure to engage all of the Central Asian states to form a joint peacekeeping battalion in the 1990s and to fully energize the states in the anti-terrorism campaign of the 2000s reveals some of the core differences in both NATO and the Central Asian leaders’ understanding of each other’s goals. While NATO underestimated the Central Asian states’ unreserved reliance on Russia’s support during the early independence period, the Central Asian states rarely appreciated the benefits of international peacekeeping activities, democratization of armed forces and maintaining a balanced East–West approach to foreign policy. Central Asian civilian and military officials seemed to be disinterested in developing joint regional forces that did not include an umbrella of Russian commandership. Kazakhstan was the only Central Asian state to transition from a purely pro-Russian political stance toward greater engagement with NATO, and the reasons for the Central Asian states’ resistance of NATO are discussed in the chapter. Since the current national militaries in the region are Soviet creations and were instrumental in creating the nations in the period the 1920s to the 1950s, the memory of their existence pushes those states toward Russia’s orbit, while resisting international influences. Finally, after nationalizing military institutions, Central Asian political elites sought to establish an ideological regime over them. Chapter 6 discusses how the state- and nation-building projects of political elites influenced military institutions as well. Newly constructed state ideologies with an ethno-nationalist slant were

Introduction

7

offered up as standards for professional conduct among military personnel. Statepropagated narratives about great historical heroes promulgated standards that political elites could not include in official documents due to their open ethnocentrism, but which also discriminated against ethnic minorities. These heroic images are found in every Central Asian state and emphasize defending the titular nationality, not the citizenry. This study relied on semi-structured interviews of dozens of experts on Central Asian militaries, from Central Asia as well as from Europe and the United States, collected during the period 2004 to 2008. The list of interview subjects includes representatives of military structures, regular conscripts, law makers, analysts from government and non-government institutions and veterans and scholars of the Soviet–Afghan war. Due to the book’s theme and the small pool of officials dealing with the topic, most of the respondents preferred anonymity. It also drew upon research used in several of the author’s articles previously published in academic and policy journals. Finally, statistical data was sourced from reports by the International Institute for Strategic Studies and the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute. Military and security institutions are defined here as all statecontrolled armed forces (ground troops, air-assault forces, navy) within the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of Interior, the Ministry of Emergencies and special divisions within the Drug Control Agency, Border Guard, President’s Guard, National Guard, etc. Security institutions also include executive-level Security Councils and various committees on defense and security issues. When relevant, police forces are also included.

1

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

Early recruitment strategies The Soviet military’s influence was always sizable across all public and societal institutions in Soviet Central Asia, starting with the Red Army’s first intrusions into Turkistan and continuing through Stalin’s purges, the experience during World War II, and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. The army was the primary instrument by which the Bolsheviks projected their power eastwards and southwards into Central Asia following the February Revolution in 1917, serving as a coercive integration tool for multi-ethnic societies. It was also the main force to aggravate interethnic antagonism among its conscripts in the post–World War II period. Throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries both the Tsarist and Soviet regimes entirely demolished the local military traditions. This was particularly true of the Soviet regime that enlisted indigenous Central Asian conscripts en masse during the years of World War I, thus forming a base for the Red Army which lasted until the end of the Soviet Union’s existence and whose features are still widely present today. The army’s incorporation of millions of people into its rigid hierarchy after the Russian civil in 1920 war was unprecedented in the region. The new army structure transformed the meaning of military service for conscripts, and altered how the society understood the role of the military. Local Red Army conscripts drafted against their will were forced to act against the interests of their communities, participate in purges of basmachi and facilitate the collectivization process. At the initial stages in Turkistan the Red Army was puzzled by local tribal divisions and cultural peculiarities, yearning for ethnological knowledge of the indigenous population to improve its ability to persuade the local male population to join the communist military. While forming the first battalions the army had to rely mostly on knowledge produced by Russian Imperial orientalists dated from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. But within a few years, as the Bolsheviks proclaimed their victory in the civil war the Red Army quickly turned into a producer and promoter of such knowledge. It became the communist party’s instrument in establishing collective class and national consciousness among the indigenous population, as well as in dividing Central Asian territory into Soviet republics. In forming Turkistan military units, the Bolsheviks defined the ethnicity of local conscripts, put them on horseback and provided them with sabers, machineguns, or

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 9 shovels – depending on their cultural background. The army conducted the first census among potential conscripts, and launched the initial assault on religious identity. For the Central Asians, the Red Army was the first Soviet institution encountered after the February Revolution. Interpretations of the unconditionally positive impact of the Red Army on the local population persisted throughout the Soviet regime and are still reproduced in the independence period. Contrary to the claims of Soviet records, however, which leave out descriptions of local resistance against the Bolshevik incursion, the Red Army did not gain full control over Turkistani conscripts until it completely conquered the Bukhara emirate and Khiva khanate in the 1920s. Soviet sources chronicling the formation of the Red Army in Central Asia and elsewhere avoid mentioning local resistance and the plethora of failures the army experienced in recruiting conscripts. They also overlooked the suffering of the local people who were forced to join the military, mentioning only the brutality of the Tsarist regime. As a crucial element of the Communist Party and Soviet regime, the Red Army was an essentialist institution set to modernize local societies. It proclaimed that it served a liberation mission and that it was the only institution able to prevent the exploitation of workers and peasants whose joining the ranks of the army signified political and cultural enlightenment. It contrasted the backward local social structures and traditions with its progressive ideals of the Revolution. Lenin underlined this point when he addressed the Turkistan communist leaders, claiming that local social structures were the “remnants of the medieval period,” used by the former Tsarist regime as a colonial mode of control.1 Other Soviet sources described this period in Central Asia as the “transition from the medieval order of socio-economic and cultural-political life of the society into revolutionary beginnings [by bypassing capitalism].”2 To win over the minds of the indigenous population, and change the perception that they were alien intruders, the Bolsheviks displayed great flexibility in the methods and messages they adopted while spreading the ideas of the Revolution.3 Soviet authors on the establishment of military institutions in Turkistan emphasized that the Bolsheviks had to adopt “creative strategies” to maneuver in the local cultural context of the Khoresm and Bukharian republics. In the initial stages, the Red Army approached Muslim conscripts as a religious totality and not as ethnic entities, tailoring their social engineering strategies according to their perceptions. The cultural peculiarities of Turkistani soldiers were incorporated into their uniform design and daily food allowances: In the work with Muslim soldiers their everyday habits and customs were considered. In this way, in connection with religious holidays kurban bairams, all Red Army Muslim conscripts and workers – were given rice, meat, sultana grapes, tobacco and 100 Rubles for three days of celebration.4 Against this background, the cultural influence of Russian agitators on the local population was highly pervasive and Bolshevik efforts to increase their knowledge

10

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

of local culture were the cornerstone of the early formation of distinct nations within the Soviet Union.5 The formation of the Red Army and its further transformation into the Soviet Army was accompanied by the extensive decomposition of social values and attitudes towards military service among the local population. The military defined and judged the meaning of Islam in daily life, as well as education and the economy, ethnic identity and citizenry, and the roles of men and women in their family and professional lives. The imposition of universal suffrage affected the lives of the male and female population. In the crudest terms, the Soviet regime entrusted the male population with the protection of the Union’s security, while the female population was expected to raise and support potential heroes. Under such a paradigm, military service was the ultimate expression of patriotism, it was a “school of bravery and endurance of the youth” both for men and women.6 Despite these rapid and vast changes the role and place of conscripts from the Central Asian Soviet republics were rarely incorporated into the early history of the Soviet Army during the period 1910 to the 1920s. Most Soviet historians argued that the Central Asian states were rather marginal during the Russian civil war and World War II. According to most of these narratives the defining moments occurred as the Bolsheviks set about determining the structure and role of Communist ideology in the Soviet Army while facing dissent from impoverished and uneducated populations in Russia and Ukraine. This version, however, ignores much of the story. For the Central Asian peoples, the formation of the Soviet Army, let alone the Soviet Union itself, represented a radical change for the existing societal and political traditions. Throughout the Soviet period Central Asian conscripts were an integral part of the Soviet Army. Like all other Soviet soldiers, Central Asian conscripts lived through stagnation, hazing, starvation, degradation and indoctrination. Likewise, along with absorbing the Russian language, culture and the Marxist ideology, conscripts from the indigenous population inevitably absorbed the logic of military service built up in Russia for centuries. World War II amply exposed the continuity of this cultural trait, when Stalin defeated Nazi Germany using a mass army that employed heavy discipline reinforced by pervasive propaganda. Today, Central Asian national military institutions tend to highly value the Soviet experience, since they themselves are entirely the products of the Soviet regime while pre-Soviet military traditions are largely forgotten. As a result, the social and economic costs associated with the formation of the Soviet military are often left out of the picture. As this chapter illustrates, mass recruitment of the local male population to fight in the civil war and violent enforcement of the communist ideology produced lasting effects on family traditions, inter-generation conflicts within the Central Asian societies, and the formation of collective memory of mass purges and suffering. The evolution of the Soviet military also displays the Communist regime’s bias towards the local Muslim population which was considerably more distrusted than ethnic Russians. The Soviet military experience also continued to shape the public’s understanding of the armed forces in national security in independence.

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 11 Despite the fact that post-Soviet military institutions located in the Central Asian states were only derivatives of a massive force created to resist external challenges, today the military is still considered to be the main source of security of the nation since independence. The memory of World War II and the Cold War continue to predetermine the political elite and military personnel’s views of the nation’s capability to sustain its security, while the gloomier aspects of the Red Army’s formation continue to be omitted from historical narratives. Finally, the Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army’s (RKKA) official establishment on February 23, 1918 is still celebrated by Central Asian states as the national defender’s day.

Structure and command In forming the Red Army following the February 1917 Revolution Lenin sought to dismantle the Tsarist army and build an army of a new type, based on the supremacy of the working class (diktatura proletariata), centralization, discipline and exceptional self-sacrifice.7 For a short period the Red Army was perhaps the most democratic military institution in the world with officers living under the same conditions as soldiers from peasant backgrounds while maintaining strictly civilian control.8 But the Red Army’s totalitarian indoctrination of conscripts and increasing importance of Party ranks among its personnel soon turned it into a strictly hierarchical institution. In the early years of the Red Army from 1917 to 1924, Bolsheviks served all military functions and any military official was required to become a communist. Most Bolshevik leaders who had civilian backgrounds gained military credentials in the course of the February and October Revolutions in 1917. The distinction between a Party member and military man was therefore blurred, but the Party’s civilian supremacy over the army was never contested. Bolsheviks’ limited experience in military commandership was the main reason for the deeply utopian understanding of the Red Army, which was expected to be driven by purely ideological motives.9 The tradition of the Soviet military’s subordination to the civilian leadership was inherited from the Tsarist regime.10 The fact that the military played a fairly passive role in the October revolution in 1917, whereas the key revolutionaries were mainly civilians, set out a distinct pattern in the Soviet regime of Party control over the Red Army. The military was still a highly politicized institution with a missionary function to educate its members and the society at large. This tradition of civilian supremacy over the military and the latter’s passive stance in political affairs continued in the post-Soviet period in Central Asia and in other post-Soviet states. With some exception in post-Soviet Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, the military never carried out an overt policymaking function but rather remained an indispensable background force with executive functions in political processes. Along with these similarities, the logic of endurance and self-sacrifice among the Red Army’s conscripts reflected the legacy of the Tsarist army which fought wars at the expense of massive causalities from the lower ranks.

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Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

From its early days the Central Asian military formations largely reflected the security perceptions of the Soviet regime. Lenin defined Turkistan as part of a chain of Soviet resistance against the French and British colonialism that surrounded the Soviet Union. The Red Army entered the region only a few months after the Tsarist regime attempted to mobilize the local population in 1916 to fight in the World War I, which led to tens of thousands of deaths and refugees. From 1918 to 1920, despite the fact that the Khiva emirs resisted the Soviet occupation by continuing to accumulate their own military power into the mid-1920s, parts of the Central Asian region served as important rear zones during the civil war. Military garrisons, industrial sites, personnel and schools were transported from Orenburg to urban areas in the Turkistan Republic such as the Aktubinsk, Semirech’e, Transcaspian and Ferghana fronts. Whereas in 1918 the proportion of communists comprising military and paramilitary personnel was 25 percent, by 1921 and 1922 almost half of this contingent identified itself as communist. This was achieved as a result of mass propaganda among the native population in which the army served as a promoter of both Soviet ideology and Russification. Local communist leaders were either forced to join the Party by Red Army troops or were former conscripts in the Red Army who were already receiving a political education within its premises. Professional success in the army strongly depended on fidelity to the Party’s ideology. The army’s chain of command was undermined because of such a complicated set of civilian–military relations. Civilian commissars were responsible for conscript ideological education, while commanders were responsible for military training. Both civilian and military officials represented two, at times competing and conflicting, chains of command which corroded the efficiency of the entire institution. In cases of misconduct commissars were not allowed to punish conscripts as this was the sole prerogative of the commanders. This led to a complicated and confusing system of management.11 Both the army and the Party had differing rationales behind their recruitment goals. In attempts to create a new social class, the Party placed special focus on the poorer and uneducated population. The mission was to engage the uneducated and depoliticized masses to increase collective national and class consciousness. The army on the other hand, was more in need of physically fit and motivated personnel regardless of their social or economic backgrounds. That the ideological foundation of the army inhibited its professionalism was exposed when Germany invaded the Soviet Union in June 1942 and Soviet soldiers had strong loyalty to the Party but often lacked military professionalism.12 Only with the introduction of edinochalie (one-man rule), Mikhail Frunze’s reforms which centralized army command under the military but left all final decisions to the Party, did the latter achieve higher levels of loyalty among conscripts. Military officials took over most of the responsibilities of the commissars and the military became more professional. However, the military always lacked autonomy from the Party and was required to display strong loyalty to the regime, especially since the civilian leadership in the army was not entirely eliminated. A dismissal from the Party often signified dismissal from the service. In contrast, outstanding Party activists were often granted a military rank.

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 13 By the early 1920s while the Red Army in Central Asia acquired some structure and centralized control, the Soviet Union became submerged into a deep economic crisis. Stalin’s forceful economic policies requiring peasants to sell their products for fixed low prices demolished economic incentives and activity between rural and urban areas. The Red Army suffered from famine, lack of equipment and uniforms. Desertion surged and peasants turned against the army. Stalin ruthlessly purged peasant and kulak upheavals in the early 1930s. By this time local army and police units were entirely controlled by the Party, helping it to eradicate the remainder of pre-Soviet socio-cultural divisions. As recent scholarly works indicate, in the course of collectivization, 15 percent to 40 percent of the population were dekulktized (liquidation of kulaks was carried out), while the wealthier strata at that time reached no more than 3 percent.13 These purges only preceded Stalin’s brutal cleansing of former party members along with intelligentsia, kulaks, Jadids and anyone reported as predators of their nations or associated with predators in the period 1934 to 38. During the civil war virtually every local industrial and agricultural site was required to work for military procurement. For instance, the entire textile industry worked to produce military uniforms.14 Heavy industries were also reoriented towards producing weaponry for the army. Military production involved large segments of local society, and both men and women were forced to work at farms and factories in three shifts. Thus, army conscripts were not the only ones to be indoctrinated through the Red Army. Civilians involved with military production were also exposed to heavy doses of propaganda. By the late 1920s the Soviet regime fully incorporated the local military formations in Central Asia into the Union’s defense system which allowed it to continue reinforcing industrial development for the purposes of the Red Army and broader economic growth. The goals of the Red Army’s formation predetermined the Soviet regime’s interests in developing economic infrastructure. The army’s expansion in the 1920s to the 1930s, for instance, fostered the installation of heavy industries and building of roads and railroads in Kyrgyz ASSR. By contrast, locations where the Red Army did not face significant challenges were mostly agricultural with somewhat weaker communications systems and light industries indirectly linked to the Union’s strategic needs. As a result, among the Central Asian states, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan possess a wider range of industrial sites compared to the predominantly agricultural economies in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Such economic planning driven by military needs preconditioned further socio-economic development in the Soviet republics and their economic importance for the Union. More industrialized countries had a larger urbanized population living in economically self-sufficient cities. Agricultural societies on the other hand were entirely dependent on subsidies from Moscow. Because Tashkent was the initial location for the Red Army’s activity in the Central Asian region, even before the city became capital of the Uzbek SSR, it became a hub for extending the Soviet military presence. From 1918 to 1920 the city witnessed an extensive build-up of military educational institutions, including the Turkistan military college named after Lenin. The college produced a number

14

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

of commanders from the local population who by the early 1920s were engaged in assaults against basmachi movements. The first military departments were opened in Tashkent universities before they spread to other parts of the region. A decade later the college was honored for its anti-basmachi campaign with the “Revolutionary ‘Krasnoe znamya’” medal of the TsIK USSR (Central Executive Committee) and the “Labor ‘Krasnoe znamya’” of the Turkmen SSR. Today, almost a century later, the school still represents a leading institution for military education in the region.

Red Army in Turkistan and the creation of Central Asian states When it came to Central Asia, the Communist party built the military around two pillars: first to prevent foreign intervention by the British into the region, and second to curb any attempts at counter-revolution among the local population. Thus, the formation of the Red Army in the Central Asian region served two important functions. First, it used the military command to link the region with Moscow and other Soviet republics. Second, it sustained ideological fervor in the region itself. According to Lenin this strategy would allow new military formations to ensure a peaceful environment for socialist transformations in the region. As in other areas, Soviet anthropologists made visible attempts to understand military traditions among Central Asian peoples in order to increase the efficiency of the Red Army.15 This policy of acquiring cultural knowledge about newly formed Soviet nations was embedded in Lenin and Stalin’s broader ideology of creating the optimal strategy for integrating the major ethnic groups in the region.16 Among the peculiarities of the region, Soviet historians especially emphasized the experience of clashes with the basmachi, foreign interventions and intertribal confrontations. The Soviet military was the first institution of its kind to proclaim that its goal was the eradication of class distinctions among culturally and linguistically different peoples living in the former Russian Tsarist territory. In Central Asia the army had room to make this maneuver because by the early twentieth century the number of oppressed farmers in the region increased substantially as Tsarist Russia’s interests in cotton surged over the nineteenth century. Shortages of irrigated land as a result of the growing cotton economy altered the relationship between landowners and farmers. Local farmers found themselves under the feudal control of their landowners. In addition, fertile land increased in value as Russian pioneers moved en masse into the region. Amid these circumstances, the Red Army was perhaps the key institution and means to legitimize Soviet power, promote fluency in the Russian language, integrate indigenous populations into a transborder political entity, promote social mobility, and shape local economies. That the Red Army was an indispensable element in state-building processes in Turkistan, Khoresm and Bukhara, and later in the five Central Asian states, is widely acknowledged by Soviet sources. But this interpretation was usually accompanied by the claim that this integration was a process of inter-class struggle and not a forceful imposition of the Bolshevik regime.

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 15 The period 1918 to 1920 was crucial in the spread and establishment of the Red Army in Central Asia. The army was wary of appointing local cadres to military positions during the provisional government and in the first few years after Soviet rule in Turkistan was established. Russian commanders distrusted the local population, treating even Russian-educated locals with suspicion and defining them as pan-Turkists.17 Instead, the army sought to dispatch Tatar and Bashkir nationals to facilitate the formation of the first military units. Such low trust in the local population by both Bolsheviks and Mensheviks thwarted them from participating in the October armed clashes among the right and left wings of the Communist party. In January 1918, the Regional Council of Soviets (Krayevoi s’ezd Sovetov) began to disseminate Red Army structures in Tashkent. The army organized special military departments within local Party executive committees (Ispolnitel’nyi komitet) which included both civilian and military representatives. By May 1918 military departments were transformed into staff offices for the Red Army and then into military commissariats (voennye komissariaty). Simultaneously, the local commissaries began recruiting volunteers, aged 18 to 40, for six-month service. Official Soviet sources indicate that the inflow of volunteers into the Red Army was extensive, with 200 conscripts signing up on the first day in Tashkent and reaching 827 within two months.18 Soviet sources also reported that besides the Red Army’s Tashkent commissariat, volunteers were signing up throughout the region even without major propaganda campaigns, making the total number of Turkistan conscripts roughly 2,000. A year after the first conscription activities, the Turkistan army increased tenfold to 20,000 people. However, contrary to Soviet sources, local intellectuals rejecting Bolsheviks’ power ascribed the large expansion of military personnel to the Red Army’s loosely controlled distribution of weapons and uniforms, which was unheard of during the Tsarist period. The rates of desertions were high, with basmachi among the most likely deserters. The RKKA did not unite the workers and peasants, but rather embraced the impoverished population searching for a means of survival. Contrary to Soviet sources, the local population was also at times a passive observer of clashes between Bolsheviks and Mensheviks in Central Asian cities. Intra-Russian combats in Tashkent following the October Revolution concerned the local population to the extent that it could spill over into a clash between Russians and Muslims.19 Russian imperial troops that were deployed to suppress the revolt of 1916 still remained in the region at the time of the Red Army’s expansion, preventing the local population from supporting either the left or right wing of the Russian Communist party. After the Bolsheviks occupied Turkistan, local members of the Esser and Menshevik forces had little alternative other than to flee the region to the Caucasus, Turkey and Afghanistan. One such source presenting an alternative view was Mustafa Chokayev (1890–1941), a native of Kazakhstan’s Syr Darya, who received his education in Russia before the October Revolution. He later became a leader of Turkistani Muslims and a member of the Esser party. Being a zealous supporter of the revolution, Chokayev treated 1917 as a “logical completion” of the Turkistani revolt in 1916. He saw the revolution as the beginning of greater autonomy for Turkistan

16

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after years of “murkiness under the Russian colonial regime” that prevented the local population from actively resisting the Bolsheviks.20 However, as the Bolsheviks launched a military campaign in Kokhand and began ruthless assaults on the Muslim population, Chokayev, along with his counterparts in the Cossack movement and Russian Mensheviks, came to despise the October Revolution and the Red Army’s occupation of Turkistan. In 1930 Chokayev, while residing in Europe, wrote that the Revolution has deceived our hopes, destroyed our belief ... Thousands of Turkistanis died as heroes in their open battle against their old enslavers turned into new. Thousands of young heroes languish in Soviet prisons and exile. Tens, and maybe hundreds of thousands of peaceful Turkistanis fled their homeland in search of a humane existence.21 Chokayev was especially disappointed with the Soviet regime and the methods by which the Bolsheviks occupied Turkistan. He felt that Turkistanis were deceived by Bolshevik promises and became unable to struggle against the Russian occupation. The Revolution, he argued, was imposed on Turkistanis by course of events in Russian history and had always been a foreign concept for the locals. He blamed the local population for its inability to mobilize internally against Bolshevism, claiming that only the “exceptionally important” basmachi movement proved heroic against foreign occupiers. He also criticized local Muslim leaders for their inability to reform vis-à-vis the changing political situation in the region. In particular, Chokayev accused the local biy and kazi (types of judges) Sharia courts of lacking efficiency and a long-term vision which ultimately boosted the popularity of their Russian counterparts in the region. By the end of May 1918 Turkistan’s Military Commissariat ordered that all smaller army formations throughout the region were to be united into a battalion and structured as they were in Russia. The army was highly decentralized without a normative core that could serve as a common ideological ground for new conscripts. Then, the army, in essence, was comprised of a small number of former servants in the Tsarist army, the local population, religious communities (both Christian and Muslim), and former prisoners of war, mostly from European countries. Bolsheviks called these squads internatsionalisty, but this title was used to conceal the unattractive diversity of these conscripts with different social backgrounds. The army’s remaining squads comprised of draftees with different ethnic and linguistic backgrounds whose previous military experience was dissimilar, as was their understanding of military duty and their initial motivation to join. About one-sixth of the entire Turkistan army identified themselves as Muslims making this category almost synonymous with ethnicity. The local Russian population constituted most of the first pool of volunteers. Six decades later, the Fortieth Army contingent deployed to Afghanistan was labeled as internatsionalisty for roughly the same reasons. The Red Army also attracted those who sought to acquire access to armaments thus disturbing internal discipline and provoking desertion in the army. In 1918 in

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 17 particular, desertion rates were several times higher than the army’s losses in the civil war. High rates of doctrinal infidelity forced the army to intensify its ideological training of conscripts. At a VII Party meeting in March 1919, roughly a year after the initial creation of the Red Army, Lenin emphasized the primary importance of socialist ideology in every soldier’s discipline and that the efficiency of the military commandership and technologies were of secondary importance.22 In order to attract more conscripts from indigenous populations, the Party formed the Russia-based Commissariat on Muslim Affairs which urged local Muslims to join the army “in the name of national renaissance.” In May 1919 the Party also launched a special Muslim regional organization Musburo as an intermediary entity to promote communism among the indigenous population. Such an approach to the Muslim community in the region displayed open distrust towards a population whose “almost total lack of a proletariat … was exacerbated by the absence of military traditions.”23 Younger people were likely to be trusted more by the Party whereas anyone older than 18 years had to undergo special professional training. The army sought to achieve ethnic homogeneity in each of its units by placing representatives of different local ethnicities into various divisions according to their cultural traditions and life styles “depending on attraction of Eastern peoples to cults of [physical] strength and individual agility. This conception categorized Turkmen, Kyrgyz, Dungan and Mountain Tajiks as inclined towards chivalry and speedy action, while Uzbek and sedentary Tajiks – to agricultural labor.”24 The codification of Soviet soldiers according to their ethnic background constituted part of a broader codification of nations which was notoriously pursued by the Soviet regime. The Red Army’s ideological mobilization contributed to cultivation of the feeling of belonging and ownership of the administrative territorial division among the Central Asian people. Such basing of military formations on the ethnic background of their personnel marked the beginning of ethnocentrism in the Soviet and post-Soviet armies that would reveal itself through peaceful manifestations as well as violently after the USSR’s collapse. Already at that period army conscripts were required to speak Russian in order to be trusted and supported by the Commissariat. This structure was enforced despite the fact that only 7 percent of the local population were ethnic Russians. The structure also promoted Russian conscripts to higher positions in the army compared to the indigenous population. In 1924, similar to a broader predicament of ethnic minorities in the Soviet Union’s creation of republics, the Red Army also encountered the issue of military units comprised of ethnicities such as Kalmyks, Uygurs and Turks, who were unlikely to receive statehood. The issue of ethnic minorities was not solved until the final formation of the Soviet republics in the 1930s. The importance of conscripts’ loyalty to the Party superseded their loyalty to the army and their military professionalism. Disbelief in the Party’s ideology was treated as a political crime and heavily persecuted. As mentioned earlier, the army’s first officer corps was comprised mostly of civilian personnel trained by former Tsarist officers who lacked professionalism but were forced to join the Party.25 The special police (Osobyi otdel) section of the NKVD (People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs) was in charge of reporting on soldiers’ misconduct.26 In essence,

18

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

the Red Army was a policing force oriented at forming and maintaining class and national consciousness. The sense of inakomyslyaschiy (otherwise-minded) and vrag naroda (peoples’ enemy) in particular were rigidly defined within military institutions. By spring 1918, a year after the first stages of the Red Army’s formation, military institutions in Central Asia followed a uniform legal and ideological framework of military organization on a regional, oblast and city level. Gradually more responsibility was granted to local administrations that had been instructed by Turkistani Bolsheviks to continue cultivating a “rigorously organized and internally in step” Red Army on their local territories.27 The Red Army considered such middleman commissariats vital for the functioning of the entire military sector, especially as it regarded their field work to recruit new conscripts and disseminate the Soviet ideology as essential. Thus, by mid 1918 the structure of military control in the Turkistan Republic comprised central, local and military administrations. The personality cult in the party system flourished, idolizing all higher-ranking leaders and discriminating against anyone who refused to express loyalty to the party and its rulers. Party leaders fostered its continuity and feared being excluded from the system which offered them economic benefits and favorable social status. The Party’s surging influence boosted loyalty among the lower ranks towards their Party leaders. The Party continuously tried to increase its political influence of and control over the military personnel through its local offices. The Turkistan Communist Party was entrusted with establishing ideological discipline in the army formations and special political departments were created in every oblast. But despite its totalistic influence, the Party faced substantial challenges within the army and in 1919 saw fit to reduce the number of troops by 30 percent in order to get rid of ideological traitors. During the first decade of the Red Army’s creation, conscripts underwent ideological training for up to four-and-a-half hours per day, while the duration of military training was only one hour longer.28 Conscripts were distributed ample amounts of ideological literature in their native languages. By the late 1920s when the proportion of communists serving in the army had considerably increased, the number of hours dedicated for ideological training at both military and civilian institutions dropped by almost half. Conscripts’ membership in Lenugoloks (Lenin corners) doubled by 1927, three years after Lenin’s death.29 The cult of Lenin as the great leader and liberator of the “murky masses” began to take shape in the early 1920s, expanded after his death in 1924 and prevailed throughout the communist regime. Shortly before his death, Lenin founded special military colleges to establish a set of general practices across military institutions. These institutions were responsible for solving key issues of military institution building. The National Commissar led the Turkistani structure, which was subdivided into 12 departments: recruitment, cultural education (kul’tprosvetraboty), military records, artillery, sanitary, military communications, and general.30 During the formation of these entities in the period 1918 to 1920, Lenin frequently met with representatives of Turkistan’s division of the Red Army. The establishment of special institutions spreading the Bolsheviks’ ideology increased party membership and

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 19 rank in importance, gradually turning the organization into a cult among the indigenous Russified population. As the national question progressed in the region with major ethnicities being defined by Lenin, the notion of belonging to the party and a national entity gained ground among the local peoples. Joining the Red Army and the Party signified the protection of this emerging sense of national unity among the local peoples and a notion of economic and cultural progress. The imposed understanding of territorial divisions and values of national unity based on manufactured ethnic identities among the indigenous population proved to be an effective mobilizing instrument for the Red Army in spreading its influence across the region. In this interplay, distancing from pre-Soviet cultural traditions and the pursuit of Soviet ideals became symbolic of positive and progressive change during the creation of the Soviet republics in Central Asia. The primary rationale for this transformation from a military identity based on religion to one based on nationality grew from Lenin’s policy of korenizatsiya (taking root) in Turkistan. Lenin envisioned political development in Central Asia as a transformation of the “murky masses” found among the local Muslim population in the “oppressed East” into Soviet ideology-savvy citizens.31 As the Commander of the Turkistan front Mikhail Frunze declared, “Muslim obscurity, by rightly assessing its status in the international war with capitalism, consciously and with the notion of this moment’s importance joined the fraternal bond of the Red Army in the thousands.”32 This imperialistic treatment of soldiers from the indigenous population, regardless of their physical and mental readiness for military service or their interest in military service, reflected a general separation into “more-developed” and “less-developed” peoples which permeated all other aspects of Soviet nation building.33 Lenin defined the least influential indigenous Central Asian population within the Tsarist regime as pre-capitalistic, thus requiring a more careful approach to integrate them into a communist society.34 The Central Asian peoples, especially the nomadic tribes were described as living at the “level of culture that explains religious fundamentalism of the population and its inclination towards dissemination of murky and unintelligent spirituality.”35 In effect, this categorization ultimately came down to the “Russian” and “non-Russian” dichotomy. Along with mass conscription of military personnel, the Red Army ruthlessly persecuted military servants in the Tsarist regime. The Red Army’s purges were embedded in broader policies of eradication of any existing and potential threats for counter-revolutionary upheaval. This resulted in several abrupt armed clashes in Tashkent and throughout the region where the Red Army prevailed. Some ethnic Russians who were allied with local Manaps (chieftains) participated in these upheavals alongside the rebels in the years 1917 and 18. The Red Army’s internal discipline was largely reinforced by coercion and the threat of capital punishment for desertion as opposed to indoctrination. In cases of en masse desertion, the squad’s commanders or organizers of the desertion were punished. Amnesties and forceful capturing of deserters were also a common practice in the army throughout 1918 and 1919.36 Because of the acute shortage of draftees, the threat of punishment was used far more extensively than actual punishment.

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Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

As the civil war proceeded and White Russians were winning on the fronts in Orenburg and local nationalist leaders triggered the destruction of railroads linking Turkistan to Russia, the Central Asian population suffered from famine. The Red Army was especially concerned with its ability to control key railroad connections. Railroads allowed transportation of basic food products to and from Turkistan. In order to receive supplies of fish, cotton and oil, a railroad linking Ashgabat with Krasnovodsk was seized by the Red Army at the Turkistan front. Likewise, in 1920 the Red Army captured the railroad to Grozny and Baku to gain access to oil reserves.37 Bukhara was of particular interest for the Party because of its ample cotton harvests and various types of livestock. Soviet records explain the importance of railroads: Of strategic importance as road junctions were Chardzhui town (one of the world’s biggest railroad bridges), Karshi town – a road junction, located on the shortest distance between Afghanistan and Turkistan, the end station of the railroad – Kerki town, the strengthening of which ended the route on the left bank of Amy-Dar’ya river from Afghanistan to Chardzhui, and Derbent village at the base of the Ak-Kutal’ passage to Eastern Bukhara and Termez. The last frontier bridged convenient passage from Bukhara to Afghanistan. In Eastern Bukhara an important junction for local routes was Kulyab city.38 The Red Guards used their proud dekulakization (raskulachivanie) of Cossacks to extort their armaments and other material goods to supply the army. Their efforts in extortion of “excessive stocks” of food (hlebnye izlishki) from local Manaps were welcomed by the first layer of the proletariat in the Turkistan Republic. In the period 1920 to 1923 the Red Army intensified its activity in propaganda and recruitment in places with the strongest basmachi resistance, such as in Khoresm and Bukhara. Soviet sources defined basmachi movements rebelling against the Red Army in the period 1917 to 1929 as protectors of the bourgeoisie lifestyle and autocracy. Western and post-colonial literature regards basmachi as a movement struggling primarily over the control of food supplies and customary law. As the basmachi revolt weakened in the mid 1920s, the local population fell into greater dependence upon Moscow for food supplies and control over lands. Similarly, since basmachi leaders were also defending Islam against Bolshevik urbanization reforms, the Soviet leadership was able to suppress religious practices.39 This was also the period of the first mass dissemination of propaganda newspapers related to Soviet military affairs such as Krasnaya zvezda, Nasha gazeta, Nedelya oborony and Nedelya fronta. As the Soviet military expanded its control and the Party indoctrinated more people, the local population’s view of basmachi changed as well. Often newly emerged communists among the indigenous population outstripped the zealousness of their Russia compatriots towards the ideals of the Revolution and the worldwide communist movement. Even when the idea of world revolution proved to be an illusion, local leaders in Central Asia were some of the last restless believers in the grandiosity of the Party. Starting from the late 1920s Party members from the local

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 21 population began cooperating with the Red Army and reported on basmachi leaders. Since basmachi movements’ continuous resistance to the Red Army was able to continue because of their ability to blend in with the local population and gain local support, they were politically disarmed once their former supporters among civilians turned against them. The basmachi movement was perhaps the toughest challenge the Bolsheviks faced in Central Asia. The movement was born after the Red Army’s destruction of Khokand and the suppression of the Muslim clergy in February, 1918. But Moscow was able to react to local upheavals only in 1919 and 1920, when the Bolsheviks were able to curb the Whites on Russian territory and divert attention and resources to Turkistan. The local resistance was supported by all the various groups in the society, forcing the Bolsheviks to come up with alternatives to using a conventional military approach in expanding its influence in the region.40 This included heavier political propaganda, controlling supplies of food, and acquiring a deeper understanding of local cultures. Disbanded Islamic institutions were restored to strip the basmachi of local support, and food was imported into the region to end famine. The basmachi revolts continued sporadically through the years 1918 to 1924 and were renewed in the late 1920s as a reaction to the collectivization processes. The Jadids party joined the Red Army effort, but remained weak against the Emir. Some Jadids who saw Bolsheviks as political liberators from the Tsarist regime joined the ranks of Soviet military and civilian institutions. In Turkistan and Bukhara Jadids were especially active in aligning with Bolsheviks. However, they were disparaged by Muslims with Russian education.41 One of the major anti-Bolshevik upheavals in Tashkent took place in January 1919 and was initiated by left-wing Socialist Revolutionaries and Menshevikinternationalists. After stifling the Tashkent unrest, the Bolsheviks were able to extend their power over competing military structures even further and diminish any possibility for similar mobilization. As a preventive measure to counter-revolutionist movements, the Republican Military Council of Turkistan established a Revolutionary Military Council (RevMC, revvoensovet) that later became the highest administrative body in the republican structure of the military command. The Military Commissariat’s functions were somewhat reduced to educational and procurement functions. Eventually, in 1919, the Red Army of Turkistan reflected the structure of its counterpart in the Russian Federation. Additional RevMCs were established in Aktubinsk and Ferghana. In early 1920 Lenin ordered the recruitment of 30,000 local conscripts, a number roughly ten times higher than the initial conscript pool in 1918. By the end of the year the Red Army overachieved this quota through mass coercive recruitment strategies. Even Soviet historical sources admit that the process of such mass recruitment led to poor treatment of new soldiers, starvation and lack of internal discipline. Recruitment of a large portion of the local male population affected every aspect of local life including agricultural work, religious practices and family life. For instance, recruitment in the summer of 1920 was carried out during Ramadan, forcing men with various family backgrounds into the army. Because the Red Army had a high quota to fulfill that year, men of a broad age group (up until

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35 y.o.) were recruited. Most of them had to leave families and were not able to return for harvest collection in the fall. Only in the mid 1920s did the average age of conscription fall to 20 years old and generally only conscripts aged 18 years old were recruited. However, in the local context young men of this age already carried out major responsibilities in providing food for their families. Universal suffrage forced men to change their life planning strategies to be able to fulfill responsibilities traditionally expected from them. One such challenge for young men included incorporating military service into their obligations of supporting their parents after reaching a mature age. In 1920 the Red Army comprised roughly three million people across Russia, Central Asian, Transcaspian and Eastern Europe, and by the end of the civil war that number had reached 5.5 million. Such a bulky army imposed a considerable economic burden on the civilian population. Both the military and civilians suffered greatly from famine, epidemics and disease in the years following the war. Because of rapid mobilization and insufficient military training, the war entailed a far greater number of civilian causalities than World War I. Since the army incorporated mostly the working class, the periphery suffered from a lack of a labor force that also complicated the supply of food, clothing and armaments to the army. At that period both the army and the basmachi’s capabilities significantly declined. That year Muslim battalions were renamed batal’on imeni III Internatsionala (3rd international battalion), branding Muslim conscripts into kyzyl asker (red soldier). The Red Army also became more cautious in recruiting local Muslim leaders who could represent a potential hindrance for the ideological indoctrination of conscripts. The duration and intensity of military training increased as the army rapidly accumulated infrastructure such as lodging and weaponry and experience over the two years since its establishment. This shift was largely preconditioned by the fact that the majority of locals already conscripted knew basic Russian and were literate. Also, the proportion of Muslim conscripts versus ethnic-Russians considerably increased from 15 percent to more than half of the entire personnel. By 1923, registered communist conscripts reached 80 percent. Whether these numbers reflected genuine support for the communist ideology among conscripts is unknown, particularly because today only Soviet sources remain available. Reflections on military service among the local population are also unavailable due to the general illiteracy of conscripts from the local population and a lack of written records. In Khoresm, for instance, despite the fact that the majority of local conscripts were members of the Communist party, 95 percent were illiterate.42 Even in 1920, after mass education policies among army conscripts were enforced, illiteracy rates were still at 15 percent.43 Bolsheviks encouraged local Muslim conscripts to propagate communist ideology among their fellows but they rarely trusted them to form military units themselves. The Communist party was also divided in its approach to Muslim conscripts over whether they should be trusted to bear arms. Those against the distribution of armaments warned that Turkistani conscripts would form their own units to resist the Red Army. Illiteracy rates and lack of Russian language skills were considered

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 23 as obstacles for integrating the local population into the Red Army. In 1987, the Soviet scholar Klimov wrote about the Turkistan army in this way: On March 19, 1919, the Turkistan Commission considered it unacceptable for the Turkistan government to form the Turkistan army independently ... in working with the Turkistan population preliminary political training was highly important, [in order that] national units be integrated into the army, and so that they not form a separate army for Turkistan.44 The army tried to dislocate potentially disloyal conscripts from their native origins to unfamiliar environments. Most Turkistani conscripts were displaced to different locations, often to the Transcaspian front where they underwent a “battle christening.”45 Essentially, the structure of Muslim battalions was the following: the recruiters and commanders were ethnic Russian, but local Muslim leaders were responsible for ideological indoctrination. The latter were entitled to teach literacy to local conscripts, deliver lectures and stage concerts. Unlike their compatriots during the civil war, Bolsheviks were dispatched directly from Moscow in 1920 and onwards. They encountered more difficulties in establishing state structures and transforming the local societies due to their limited knowledge of the local area and culture. The proportion of Russian conscripts was declining and more representatives of the indigenous population were recruited. The Red Army had a dual task of reinforcing ethno-national identities among Turkistan conscripts and turning them into watchdogs for the performance of other public institutions. By 1924 when Lenin divided the territory of Kirgizstan ASSR, Turkistan ASSR, Khoresm and Bukhara Peoples Soviet Republics into five republics, either Soviet autonomous or with republican status, military institutions were further developed in accordance with these administrative divisions. The Tashkent National School attracted most of the conscripts from the surrounding region and by the end of 1924 the number of students reached 445 people.46 By 1926 the first commanders emerged among the local population – S. Rakhimov from the Uzbek SSR and M.D. Tushmukhamedov in the Tajik ASSR. The Party sought to promote heroic cults of these commanders among the local population. Later these commanders served as the main force for mass draftee recruitment to resist the German invasion in 1941. While the Red Army played a key role in conquering the local population and spreading the Soviet regime, its penetration of the Central Asian region had considerably accelerated following the first stages of nation-building processes in the period 1922 to 1924. The politics of establishing national identities was channeled through all public institutions at that time. Lenin’s five-year plan on developing national formations inevitably influenced the Red Army’s internal cohesion. After Lenin’s death, the spread of the army and Stalin’s codification of Soviet nations proceeded hand in hand. As the Party’s ethno-cultural knowledge expanded, the army’s strategies shifted as well. The division of locals into ethnic groups, the allocation of assignments and the publication of military literature altered as the Central Asian Soviet Republics began to acquire new administrative units.

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Central Asian military during the Soviet regime

The Party adopted simplified slogans from the Marxist theory both to justify its deviations from it and make it accessible to the broader public. In 1938, the theory was published as a brochure named Kratkiy kurs istroii VKP (Short course in history of the All-union Communist Party).47 Gradually, Marxist theory devolved into a set of dogmatic beliefs that permeated all aspects of public life lacking either a critical or creative approach. From school children, to housewives, soldiers and bureaucrats, the ideology represented schematic descriptions and amplified promises of the communist regime. The ideology manufactured specific language and behavior that pointed to one’s aptness and ability to become part of the hegemonic regime. The Party was rapidly reproducing itself across the region and multiplying its supporters. By 1925 military training facilities were localized, allowing conscripts to undergo their military education without being distracted from their main activities.48 New schools were opened in the Kyrgyz ASSR in what is presently the territory of Kazakhstan. Conditions for military service were enhanced slightly by the late 1920s and the army reported lower rates of disease and death, as well as higher quality of food and clothing.49 By the 1930s, after the Central Asian Soviet Republics acquired their final statuses within the USSR borderlines, the Red Army’s internal division along ethnic backgrounds did not match those of the Soviet Union. The number of ethnicities was decreased as titular ethnic groups with allotted statehood were identified. But the Red Army’s internal administrative and territorial division followed administrative divisions established in the early 1920s. The army had to rearrange and relocate its offices and introduce universal conscription requirements within a standardized system. By then, the Party had declared its triumph over class divisions and the creation of a proletariat united across the Soviet Socialist Republics. Not until the end of World War II did the military again engage in the consolidation of collective national and class consciousness among the people of the newly created Central Asian republics. With the rigidity of the military structure in the Turkistan Republic, the Red Army was struggling to establish intra-institutional discipline to prevent counterrevolutionary upheavals. Though only scarce evidence exists about the perceptions held by the civilian population towards the Red Army, there are documented records of frequent revolts among workers and conscripts against military service. One such instance occurred in Ashgabat during the summer of 1918 shortly after the Bolsheviks announced the creation of the Turkistan Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic (ASSR). Local draftees rebelled against new waves of conscription which lead to an armed clash with Soviet troops which was supported by several hundred British forces headquartered in northeastern Iran.50 However, the British were largely exhausted and ultimately prioritized brokering trade deals with the Soviet Russians ahead of their political interests in the region.

Khiva and Bukhara After achieving some success in Turkistan, the Red Army’s operation in the Khiva khanate in 1919 was perhaps the most costly and timely for the Bolshevik

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 25 occupation. The Red Army supported any rebellion against the khan and refugees from Khoresm, distributing weapons to the local population. Due to externally fueled discontent with the khan, the Army won support of Khiva’s marginalized population without even being present in the khanate. But an acute shortage of armaments within the Red Army in 1918 and 19 significantly constrained further movements into Khiva and Bukhara. The problem of moving deeper into Central Asia was exacerbated by a lack of roads and railroads. Only by late 1919 did the Red Army troops enter Khiva territory and begin its direct operations there. In March 1920 the Bolsheviks established an interim government in Khiva that continued to massively recruit soldiers and reform or disband military units formerly belonging to the khan. However, although the Bolsheviks were successful in Khoresm, they were unable to spread Soviet influence across Khiva until 1924. Still in 1923 some parts of Khoresm were under the influence of a few Turkish military instructors, mostly underground, until the Bolsheviks eradicated them completely. As in Turkistan, the Red Army put an end to basmachi rebellions after a major mobilization led by Dzhudaid-khan in early 1924 when the army pulled its troops in from neighboring cities. The fall of Khiva significantly undermined the Bukhara Emir’s ability to resist the Red Army. The Turkistan RevMC advised the Red Army on specific geographical locations where it had to begin recruitment of locals into its ranks. These were cities of Samarqand, Chardzhu and Merve. The Turkistan communist party also issued newspapers and other propaganda material in indigenous languages to be disseminated in Bukhara. Once again, taking into consideration the local cultural traits, the Red Army emphasized the local population’s skills in saber fighting and horseback riding. The Red Army placed special focus on forming armed cavalry, which was part of the indigenous military tradition.51 The Red Army also sought to launch local military units composed only of members from the Uzbek ethnic group. In the Bukhara emirate the Communist party had to remain underground until 1920. Bukhara’s local population and the Bukharian Emir resisted the Red Army’s penetration, turning the area into a volatile sub-region. Basmachi rebellions in parts of Turkistan distracted the Army’s movement further into region. In comparison to the Red Army, which contained some local conscripts, Bukharian military formations were less numerous. However, Frunze’s offensive in Bukhara was significantly complicated by local mountainous land, a multi-continental climate and shortages of water. Already at that time Bolsheviks noted that the population density was the highest in areas with water resources.52 The Red Army occupied the old part of Bukhara city to attack the Emir and his troops located in Kitab-Shahrizyab and in the Takhta-Karacha passage. Frunze’s army also complained about Bukhara’s chaotic architecture, which was reminiscent of a “narrow and confusing labyrinth.”53 The military tradition in Bukhara generally followed different strategies and was not ready to resist the Red Army’s massive force. Soviet sources portrayed Bukharian troops as mostly criminals with outdated weapons.54 Later, as the Soviet Union became more established and the Red Army solidified its presence in the region, the Central Asian mountains and steppes, which were much detested by the Bolsheviks, were used to train Soviet conscripts.

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Only after the Red Army’s consolidation across the Soviet territory and the centralization of command, was the Burkharian Emir conquered on September 1, 1920. Finding out that the Emir had already fled the city the Red Army entered Bukhara through the Karshi gates. The Army proclaimed the revolution’s victory following the Emir’s escape. Bukhara gained the status of a Soviet Republic shortly after the creation of the Khiva Soviet Republic. After invading Bukhara and facing widespread resistance against the establishment of the Soviet regime, the Red Army invented a special symbol of a red star surrounded by a green crescent that would accommodate the sentiments of Muslim conscripts. Among counter-revolutionary forces in Bukhara, armed groups led by Enver Pasha resisted the Red Army with the largest consolidated force, until he was defeated in 1922. His armed squads united more than 20,000 soldiers and his zealous resistance to the Red Army’s expansion in Bukhara, Khiva and Turkistan inspired basmachi movements after his death. The basmachi movements, supported by the masses and led by powerful leaders, embraced a number of fighters who were treated by the Soviet regime as bandits. Another leader, Ibrahim Bek led the longest resistance in Tajikistan throughout the 1920s. The number of his troops and the territory that he controlled were not as vast as Enver Pasha’s, but nevertheless Ibrahim Bek presented a major challenge to the Red Army with his 5,000 fighters.55 Ibrahim Bek’s main support base was in the Locai region of Tajikistan, where he was able to maintain his activities thanks to taxation. After a Soviet offensive in the summer of 1923, Ibrahim Bek was forced to flee to Afghanistan where he could operate more freely, though lacking the support of the Locai population. By 1925 the Red Army began conscription of the Locai male population, some of whom formerly supported the basmachi movement. By then the army possessed greater armament capacity, internal organization and material base than the basmachi. After joining the Red Army and the Party, former basmachi and members of the local population were predisposed to reveal information about Ibrahim Bek’s location. Afghanistan’s internal political turmoil allowed the revival of basmachi in the northern territories. Sporadic clashes between basmachi movements and the Red Army unraveled in the mountainous areas of Tajikistan, often leaving the Soviets in a vulnerable position. In response to the faltering positions against basmachi in remote areas, the Soviet leadership carried out simultaneous offensives in the region’s larger cities and villages. Tens of thousands were arrested for real and alleged sympathy with basmachi and a dozen cities were destroyed. As the basmachi grew stronger towards the late 1920s against the background of weak political leadership of the Afghan Nadir Khan, the Red Army troops crossed the Soviet–Afghan border to persecute them on Afghan territory. The Soviets intruded despite the bilateral treaty of non-aggression endorsed in 1926 between Russia and Afghanistan.56 By then, the Red Army had produced units led by Uzbek and Kyrgyz commanders who were either forced to carry out or voluntarily facilitated assaults against the basmachi. In 1930, when the basmachi were especially consolidated in Afghanistan, the red commander Mirshrapov, who was of Uzbek origin, was deployed to counter Ibrahim Bek’s troops.57

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 27 Most of the prominent commanders from the local and Russian populations were mobilized against Ibrahim Bek, crushing his troops by the hundreds throughout 1930 and 31. Those with an outstanding record of crushing basmachi were not left unnoticed, with dozens of local and Russian soldiers honored by state medals, and several commanders with the “Krasnaya zvezda” medal. Uzbek cavalry units and Tajik rifle battalions were also honored with the “Krasnaya zvezda.”58 Ibrahim Bek’s last massive invasion into Tajikistan in 1931 was met with resistance by the local population that was already largely re-educated and controlled by the Party. Entire villages in the mountainous areas of Sang-Lak were mobilized to capture basmachi rebels. Ibrahim Bek was captured by Mukum Sultanov in KhodzhaBulbulon village in 1931. In the years following the 1931 offensive, Ibrahim Bek’s troops found only scattered support among Tajikistan’s population that was later demolished completely during the peak of Stalin’s purges in 1937 and 1938. The experience of eradicating charismatic basmachi leaders with the help of the local civilian population allowed the Red Army to defeat the remaining basmachi movement in Turkmenistan with relative ease. Using mostly local troops, the Soviet military suppressed the basmachi movements in September and October 1931 in the Karakum desert. Once again, the military campaign against basmachi involved kyzyl askers (red officers). Squads of local soldiers were honored with Soviet medals for bravery and exceptional patriotism. After the Red Army proclaimed its victory over the basmachi, the proportion of conscripts from the local population in the Central Asian military district increased up to 98 percent. To secure rapid success, the army supplied its followers in Bukhara with weapons. Importantly, the Red Army dispatched up to 50 graduates of Kazan Military College, mostly Tatars, to communicate with the local population in their indigenous languages. These Tatar Bolsheviks also accentuated their Muslim identity to alleviate fears of foreign invasion among the locals.59 Because of stronger resistance by the Muslim population to the Bolshevik reforms, conscripts in Bukhara were recruited as young as 10 to 12 years old for easier indoctrination. As the Russian civil war ended, the army command rapidly centralized in Moscow. Along with the centralization of the military command, the sense of grandiosity of the Red Army intensified across the territories where Bolsheviks operated. Despite the fact that Bolsheviks used different strategies across nations and ethnicities, the centralization of control over the military was largely facilitated by the presence of uniform symbols and slogans. In the early 1920s Bolsheviks from Turkistan, Khiva and Ukraine to Belarus alluded to a similar set of ideas and methods that had been proclaimed by Lenin and his followers. This was also the period when the Bolsheviks energetically reinforced an appreciation for the “great Russian nation” as well as the newly formed communist government structures outside of the RSFSR’s territory.

Post-Civil War period In the few years following the end of the civil war the Red Army underwent a reorganization that better suited peacetime and separated into precise military units that

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were located across the Soviet republics.60 The Soviet regime registered the exact number and capacity of its military to further continue to reform it into territorial squads. Parts of the enormous military contingent were restructured into paramilitary formations, while the bulk of military personnel were demobilized during the period 1921 to 1923. Even Soviet sources criticize this drastic demobilization process that reduced the army from nearly 5,500,000 to 600,000 soldiers with service requirements for military personnel decreasing from 15 years to four.61 The number of military recruits shrank to 1902 levels. Some demobilized personnel were sent into the agricultural and industrial sectors following Lenin’s New Economic Policies. Former military personnel that had undergone a substantive ideological education by the Party turned into a major force of economic recovery and development in Russia, Ukraine, the Transcaucasus and Central Asia. Former draftees with knowledge of Russian and indigenous languages were used by the Bolsheviks to spread ideology and exercise control in peripheral areas.62 That said, the military once again proved to be an indispensible force for the Soviet Union’s establishment in the mid 1920s. Centralized control over the Red Army facilitated the production of a legal framework for the military. No longer did the army recruit soldiers unselectively, but introduced rules for families with one son and with adverse living conditions. Conscripts’ families also received greater government subsidies. At the same time the Party increased its ideological influence by establishing its own representative offices within military institutions. The Bolshevik victory in the civil war and the Red Army’s experience in the battlefield served as a powerful mobilization tool for the Soviet Union’s consolidation. The Bolshevik success was regarded as an event of international importance akin to armed resistance of the working class worldwide. Following Lenin’s death, the Party canonized his ideas and continued to reproduce them for the next seven decades. Importantly, the military began building close relations with the civilian society after its demobilization. Special military departments were established in civilian academic institutions and virtually every citizen had to undergo elementary training as reservists for times of armed conflict. Military training thus became part of the civilian population’s education. The centralization of the Red Army inevitably influenced other aspects of the regime. The law-enforcement and education sectors, as well as the economic sector acquired a higher degree of organization. By the late 1920s, military training was reorganized and standards for army conscription became more demanding. New conscripts had to undergo at least seven years of school education, while further advancement in the army depended on their physical readiness as well as level of education. This meant that the civilian education system needed considerable development as well in order to sync with the military. In 1927 the share of Central Asians in the Red Army included: 600,000 Uzbeks, Turkmens and Tajiks; 500,000 Turks; and 100,000 Kyrgyz. The codification of the Soviet peoples into ethnicities was still an ongoing process. A decade later the “Turkic” ethnic groups disappeared as they were incorporated under the category of Uzbek.63 To an extent, the centralization of the Red Army, the largest and most politically charged armed forces institution at that time, served as a model for other rapidly

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 29 emerging public organizations.64 However, the army and military service still lacked popularity in the broader society. The level of motivation among officers and active-duty soldiers was low.65 At the same time, reinforcement of army discipline also became more efficient, at times deriving from severe punishment for minor misconduct. The Party sought to recruit youth from rural areas in order to educate them under the army’s auspices. The army was seen as an optimal institution for re-education and enlightenment for these young men. The recruitment process became more organized putting an end to the chaotic enlisting of all men, while at the same time the objectives of the military were realigned as it sought to increase its defense capabilities through technological modernization.66 Russia began developing its combat capacities on the sea and in the air. The Party sought to create the new Soviet nations and their cultures through education, mass media, literature, theater, costumes, music and dance, and throughout the military theme was always in the background, if not directly evident. The glorification of the Red Army’s achievements or military themes permeated all cultural artifacts, be that a children’s play or a literary masterpiece by indigenous writers. Military themes were massively publicized through the mass media like most other aspects of the Soviet regime, and were also streamed through special professional outlets. Newspapers focusing on Red Army issues, its achievements and future goals, were published on a weekly and monthly basis in indigenous, or, as the Bolsheviks referred to them, “Muslim” languages. The Party’s Russian members who were dispatched to the region were required to learn local languages for further propaganda activities. As a result of the prior absence of such invasive mass propaganda through published sources, the impact of indoctrination on society was enormous. Soviet authors and artists were mobilized to produce works with military themes chronicling the Soviet Union’s existence. Artistic works based on Soviet military themes were created during various periods, intensifying in times of crises, particularly during World War II and the Cold War periods. Army discipline continued to strengthen as the Party spread its political influence both in the military and society. The notion of the external threat to the Soviet regime stemming from capitalist states and Franco-British colonialism continued to shape the army’s political role after the end of the civil war until the collapse of the Soviet Union. The loathing of colonialism now shifted beyond the territories surrounding the emerging Soviet Union and attention was focused on European imperialist strongholds in Africa and Asia.

World War II The persisting real and imaginary possibility of an external large-scale attack on the Soviet Union kept the Red Army in a state of high alert throughout the interwar period of 1920 to 1939. As the western territories of the Soviet Union were occupied by the Germans in the summer of 1941, the mobilization base shifted to the east. Army units comprised of Caucasus and Central Asian nationalities were becoming more homogeneous with the local population representing up to 40 percent of the contingent.67 Draftees from both regions were mostly referred to as

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non-Slavs as they were likely to have had a lesser knowledge of Russian and a lower education level (according to Soviet standards) compared to their Byelorussian and Ukrainian counterparts. In total, almost one-third of Stalin’s army was comprised of non-Russian nationalities. Although such representation of non-Slavic draftees was a crucial contribution to the Soviet triumph in the war, this did not eradicate ethnic discrimination in the army. Up until the collapse of the Soviet Union, non-Russian and non-Slavic military personnel were generally less represented across military institutions. Ethnic antagonism persisted in army structures and was reflected in cadre politics, ranks, and the extent of professionalism among conscripts. At times, military structures could reveal the deepest ethnic cleavages, particularly if the Soviet army were reduced to the level of interpersonal relationships. The effects of strong Russification in the military were especially evident in the first years of independence when the number of highly qualified Slavic specialists sharply decreased and the general quality of the armed services suffered. Stalin’s mass repressions undermined the Red Army, stripping it of experienced commanders and officers. Despite intense recruitment and mobilization, the shortcomings in the officer corps were evident and more representatives of non-Russian ethnicities were promoted into higher ranks. The World War II conscripts had to show ardent support for communism, while Party deception was the only alternative to military service. The Red Army faced World War II with high levels of political training, but at times low levels of military professionalism among soldiers. Only by the end of the war and the creation of the Soviet army, did the Party pay greater attention to increasing professionalism in the military in addition to ideological indoctrination. The memory of brutal collectivization and mass purges prior to the war had a momentous impact on the Central Asian population’s compliance with the regime. Although the memory of the basmachi revolts was still fresh and pre-revolutionary generations were still inclined to quietly live by abiding to their traditions, the fear of more purges compelled the local population to participate in the war. After almost 25 years, a fairly short period, since their creation, Central Asian units in the Red Army fought on par with their Soviet compatriots on the fronts of World War II. Compared to other nationalities and republics in the Soviet Union, Central Asia was perhaps among the most distant from the physical battlefields of World War II. The indigenous population’s understanding of the war was entirely shaped by the Party which represented the only source of knowledge about the meaning of the Soviet–Nazi struggle. The outcome of Stalin’s confrontation with Hitler had a smaller political effect on the region. Central Asian soldiers had to serve thousands of miles away from their homes. By comparison, the Caucasus had far stronger exposure to the war’s proceedings and the local population there reacted differently to the German occupation of Russian territories bordering their own. Since the level of literacy by the early 1940s had reached almost 90 percent, indoctrination of the indigenous population became ever more efficient compared to the previous two decades. It took the army significantly less effort to recruit local males and mobilize the rest of the population as reservists. From the first days of

Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 31 war, in the Kazakh SSR alone, the direct mobilization involved up to 30 percent of the 6.2 million population, while indirect mobilization included virtually the entire adult population.68 About 2 million young people were trained for military service from their school years, while women were forced to replace men in heavy industries. Conscripts of older age, men who were mostly still illiterate from the pre-revolution period, were sent to the fronts as well. In September 1942 the army issued a decree requiring “educational work with red officers (krasnoarmeec) and junior commanders of non-Russian nationality” to increase their literacy. Harsh discipline and stern indoctrination paid off for the Soviet army in terms of a great degree of loyalty among prisoners of war captured by the German army who largely refused to cooperate with their captors. Likewise, German army attempts to provoke ethnic minorities to undermine the regime failed. Central Asian troops were involved in almost all the major fronts of the war: the defense of Leningrad and Moscow in 1941, Crimea and Donbass in 1942, the Stalingrad battle in 1942, and the siege of Leningrad in 1941 to 1943. Units entirely comprised of Central Asian draftees were rarely led by their fellow countrymen, but mostly by Russian commanders. After the war’s end, ample numbers of local soldiers were honored by the regime, and women were among them as well. The war produced a stratum of national iconic heroes from the indigenous population, thus boosting the popularity of military service. More than 120,000 natives of Uzbekistan were awarded with decorations and 69 of them with the highest honor, the Hero of the Soviet Union; 50,000 from Tajikistan were decorated with 14 Hero of the Soviet Union honors; 100,000 from Kirgiziya were decorated and among them 12 received the Hero of the Soviet Union honor; and 19,000 from Turkmenistan were decorated with 18 Hero of the Soviet Union honors.69 During and after the war, national identity among the non-Russian population was deepened by the Party’s encouragement for historical writing by indigenous authors. The Central Asian authors produced numerous historical works on the ancientness and greatness of their ethnic groups. This production of knowledge strengthened the feeling of belonging to an administrative territory and fueled a national zeal to defend it during and after the war. War veterans and young officers also enjoyed considerably higher state salaries and subsidies. They were practically a privileged social class associated with ideal patriotism and exceptional courage. In return, national heroes were expected to be more enthusiastic about the communist ideology. In the 1950 and 1960s, when the population decreased across the Soviet Union due to low birth rates during the wartime in the 1940s, the military was actively engaged in the economy, particularly in the agricultural and industrial sectors. The percentage of Central Asian women in the army always remained significantly lower than in all other parts of the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, they underwent standard reservist training. During World War II Central Asian women were trained as machine gunners, shooters, telegraphers, cavalry officers and nurses.70 The structure of local economies and the level of development of military training facilities inevitably influenced the distribution of labor during the war. Women in more industrialized locations were forced to carry heavy loads for up to three shifts a

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day.71 Since the collectivization and korenizatsiya, the war marked another enormous step in forceful emancipation of women in Central Asia. The memory of World War II was ingrained in the collective consciousness of post-war generations. Almost two decades after the collapse of the Soviet Union the Central Asian nations still celebrate Victory Day on May 9th along with the National Defender’s day on February 23rd. Furthermore, the war is still defined as a Great Patriotic War despite the Soviet Union’s collapse.

Conclusions This chapter draws an important conclusion about the Red Army’s impact on the creation and further functioning of the Central Asian states in the twentieth century. The military institutions in the Central Asian republics predated the states themselves. Following the February 1917 revolution the Red Army launched its intense military and political assault on Turkistan, Bukhara and Khiva. The Red Army was the principal institution within the Communist Party to intervene in Central Asia after the October Revolution and begin building a Soviet regime there. The armies were constructed before Soviet ethnographers accumulated information about the indigenous peoples and before other state institutions were put into place. Thus, it was the first Soviet institution to become established in the region and continued to create and reinforce all other elements of the regime. The structure of the Red Army was an inevitable representation of the most hierarchical inner structure the communist regime produced. The Soviet military served as the main force in creating the class of proletariat and changing the political views of the local population. It produced its own commanders and heroes among indigenous peoples by the 1930s, which allowed it to mobilize the public during Stalin’s war against Nazi Germany. After the Soviet Union’s victory in World War II the Red Army became the Soviet Army and deepened the political meaning of the military. Post-war generations of men and women were exposed to the heroism of veterans in daily life which facilitated the Party’s military campaign in Afghanistan. The legacies of the Red Army and its many similarities with the Tsarist military traditions had a momentous impact on Central Asian military institutions during independence. The next chapters will discuss how the material and moral legacy of the Soviet military continues to shape Central Asian states and their societies’ understanding of the meaning of the military. The grandiosity of the Soviet military as a supra-national institution permeated education, the arts and politics. However, along with being the main channel of propagating the Marxist ideology, the Party and Red Army always favored one nation over the other, Russian over others. As the next chapter shows, ethnic identities solidified in the aftermath of World War II, the Soviet Army’s internal cohesion began to crumble. Poor cohesion and solidarity among groups with strong ethno-political identities serving in the army, the army leadership’s tactical mistakes and the decreasing popularity of the Party destroyed the army from within.

2

“We won the war” Competing memories of the Soviet war in Afghanistan

“The war in Afghanistan was the main reason for the collapse of the Soviet Union,” insists Cholponbek Bekkeldiyev, deputy director of the Bishkek chapter of the Republican Union of Veterans of the War in Afghanistan. “I’ve heard that the Soviets entered Kabul 15 minutes before the Americans came to station their nukes.” He further believes that the Soviet Union was destroyed by the economic burden of the Cold War and the vast cost of the war in Afghanistan, which Moscow wanted to be the “sixteenth” Union republic. The Afghan campaign from December 1979 until February 1989 was the largest Soviet military undertaking in Central Asia since the establishment of the Soviet regime in 1922. It raised the importance of the Turkistan Military District (MD) in the Soviet security complex. The MD’s major cities – Ashgabat, Tashkent, Dushanbe and Termez – became major military procurement bases for the Soviet troops in Afghanistan. Most officers and soldiers deployed with the Fortieth Army, the primary unit deployed in Afghanistan, were drafted, trained or temporarily stationed at the Turkistan MD. Almost all divisions of the Soviet armed forces participated in the 1979–1989 campaign; roughly 500,000 soldiers were mobilized. Of those, over 50,000 Central Asians were mobilized for civilian and military positions.1 Some 130,000 to 150,000 civilians provided support services to Soviet troops in Afghanistan, and billions of dollars were spent to sustain the Fortieth Army deployed there. The veteran remembers the Soviet Union as a great and harmonious country, vowing to do his best to restore the lost contacts among former Soviet republics. The veteran is part of a horizontal network of Afghan Veteran Union (AVU) leaders sharing similar views and spread across former Soviet Union states. AVUs’ names vary in each country; their membership is multi-ethnic and led mostly by representatives of the titular nationality with the Russian branch being most active and serving as a coordinating body. Two decades after the war’s end, the AVU counts over 500,000 members across the former Soviet space, and members continue to relentlessly promulgate their interpretation of the war. They rarely blame the Soviet leadership for losing the war, instead criticizing individual politicians for forgetting the war’s causes and ignoring its lasting legacies. Public ignorance and political amnesia about the war have turned AVU members into political activists and a powerful transnational civil society network. In Central Asia in particular, AVU members proudly recall their roles in the war, often viewing their service in

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Afghanistan as the most manly, most patriotic, and even most romantic period of their lives. This pride surged in the early 2000s, encouraged by the increasing links between AVUs in Russia and support from Russian Afghan veterans. AVUs in Central Asia include a small number of ethnic Russian veterans, though most of them left the region in the 1990s and are part of the Russian branch. Driven by their uncompromising stances in the Cold War, both the US and Soviet governments promulgated conflicting and competing narratives about the war. But these narratives outlasted the Cold War, at least among Afghan veterans. AVU accounts of the Soviet war in Afghanistan are strikingly different from mainstream literature. Western authors typically focus on inadequate and wasteful military training, hazing and inter-ethnic conflict, and the regime’s spendthrift approach to human life. Unlike their Western counterparts, scholars in Central Asia or Russia seldom compare the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan with Moscow’s 1994 and 1999 military campaigns in Chechnya. Rather, they blame the West for instigating anti-Soviet unrest in Afghanistan, and they draw parallels with the West’s support of Georgia’s anti-Russian politics in South Ossetia in 2008. The war may be over, but competing post-Soviet and Western understandings of it persist. This chapter presents an alternative, largely unknown, view of the war in Afghanistan, that of Central Asian veterans. It examines how Afghan veterans from Central Asia remember the war, how they are perceived by society and how they perceive themselves. These hidden elements of social and political life in the Central Asian states have an enormous impact on security and military structures across post-Soviet Central Asia. As Afghan veterans participate in political and social activities, they influence local perceptions of Russia and the West. Even for a reader from the post-Soviet space, this chapter might come as a novelty, as few realize the active role AVU members seek to play in contemporary public life. AVU members are relatively young and readily adapt to the new political and economic settings. However, they were raised under the pervasive Soviet ideological propaganda and continue to embrace most of its core doctrine. Afghan veterans rarely question the need for the Soviet invasion.

A brief history of the Afghan War In summer 1979 Moscow assembled a special Muslim Battalion comprised of 520 Central Asians and readied them for deployment to Afghanistan to support Nur Muhammad Taraki, then president of Afghanistan. The battalion led the attack on the Tajbeg Palace on December 27, 1979, and in January 1980 deployed to Chirchik. The Fortieth Army was formed at the Turkistan MD under the command of General-Lieutenant Yuri Tukharinov on December 16, 1979. Command and battalion contingents were comprised of Soviet troops previously trained in Eastern Germany, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. Every battalion had its own Farsi translator from Tajikistan, Uzbekistan or, less commonly, Turkmenistan. Afghan veterans proudly recall the army as being well equipped with the latest military technologies and supplied with ample food and living facilities.2 The army completed its formation by March and April 1980 with 81,100 troops and 68,800 support personnel.

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The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in December 1979, after, according to the Communist Party of the Soviet Union’s (CPSU) interpretation, the Marxistoriented National Democratic Party (NDP) showed signs of weakness against the Mujahideen opposition. Initially Soviet troops were sent to assist the NDP, but they faced formidable resistance from the Mujahideen and found themselves quickly drawn into an open-ended conflict. The Soviet public did not question Moscow’s decision to invade Afghanistan, as it followed from the notion of global socialist revolution that was always part of Soviet ideology. The Afghan campaign was expected to follow the precedent of the quick, victorious Soviet military invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. But the Soviet army of 1979 was far less professional than the contingents deployed to Czechoslovakia a decade earlier, and they faced a much more determined opponent. To resist the massive military power of the Fortieth Army, in 1980 Mujahideen forces spread into small groups across the Afghan countryside. The struggle between the Soviet troops and the Mujahideen descended into a guerilla war which the massed Fortieth Army was initially unaccustomed to fight efficiently and the Afghan army’s combat potential was lower than expected.3 At the time of the invasion, the Fortieth Army comprised roughly 100 units of combat and rear procurement. The 103rd air assault division and 345th special airborne unit were on the front line, with orders to destroy the far more numerous enemy troops. The Fortieth Army further included two motorized divisions (5th in Kushki and 108th in Termez), 353rd gun artillery brigade, 2nd air defense brigade, 56th air assault brigade, 103rd communications support regiment, 28th rocket regiment, 860th and 186th special motorized divisions. There were also two fighter-bomber squadrons, two helicopter battalions, and the 181st, 280th and 302nd special helicopter squadrons. Reserves included three divisions: 58th, 68th and 201st.4 Throughout the 1980s, the Fortieth Army’s structure continued to change, taking greater military command over Afghanistan’s armed forces. The war was intermittent – a month could pass quietly only to be followed by a bloody offensive by the Mujahideen. By the mid 1980s, the Soviet Army was responsible for all military actions in the country, with the Afghan national army serving in a subordinate role. The Soviet casualty rate continued to increase, while the economic recession at home affected military procurement.5 As the war peaked in the mid 1980s, the CPSU’s leadership was in flux, with four general secretaries serving between 1982 and 1985. General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev was ill long before his death in late 1982 and his two elderly successors – Yury Andropov and Konstantin Chernenko – had no time to find a solution to the war before their own deaths. The Soviet leadership seemed incapable of reacting to the challenges constantly posed by the war in Afghanistan, expanding independence movements in Eastern Europe, and domestic economic issues. The unexpectedly high cost of the Afghan campaign forced Moscow to slash or terminate existing subsidies for governments in Africa, Asia, and Latin America. The Soviet Union’s economic and military assistance to its allies decreased from $18.2 billion in 1955 to $8.2 billion in 1980, and it could only deliver $35.3 billion on its $47.3 billion in foreign arms sale contracts.6 As Moscow failed to meet more

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of its foreign commitments, satellite states and international allies alike complained louder. By the late 1980s the war in Afghanistan had become deeply unpopular on the home front due to its abstract enemy and protracted duration. The popular discontent became especially pronounced after Mikhail Gorbachev came to power in 1985. Before Gorbachev’s glasnost policies exposed the hardships of military life, many young men across the Soviet Union had sought to enlist in the Fortieth Army and show their “vigor, bravery and patriotism” by serving in Afghanistan.7 The initial patriotic surge began to wane as information about the atrocities of the war became public and trains carrying the corpses of fallen soldiers began returning home en masse in the second half of the 1980s. Military service was quickly losing its prestige, and young men tried to escape it by all possible means. The Kremlin’s paralysis in the early 1980s only prolonged the war. When Gorbachev pulled the last Soviet troops out from Afghanistan in February 1989, army morale was at its weakest, further contributing to the demise of the Soviet Union. According to Soviet sources, 14,453 Soviet troops died in the Afghan War, including 50 women, and 417 soldiers were taken hostage by Mujahedeen. Of those taken hostage 122 people were later released, while the rest counted as defected, killed, or listed as missing. Memories of World War II prevented former prisoners of war from returning to the Soviet Union, afraid of Stalin-like punishment with brutal labor and death sentences. During the first four years, when the war was concealed from the public, former POWs remained in Afghanistan, defected, or emigrated to neighboring countries. Only in 1983, when the Soviet regime began divulging information about the war in specialized newspapers and showed greater empathy towards troops serving in Afghanistan, did the ex-POWs feel it was safe to return home. Veterans agree that the Soviet leadership often distorted statistics about war casualties. Official Soviet records of the Afghan war, including the numbers of soldiers drafted, killed and injured significantly deviate from nationally collected sources. For instance, according to Russian sources, Kazakhstan lost over 300 people in the war; Kazakh sources indicate over 700 people.8 Western literature claims that over one million military personnel participated in the war and that a much larger number of troops died.9 Non-Soviet sources also mention that more people died from wounds and disease in the post-war years. Russian and Ukrainian soldiers were the largest demographic group, and they constituted over half of the causalities, according to official statistics.

Central Asian soldiers in an “international” army Recalling the Bolshevik recruitment strategies from the revolution through World War II, the Fortieth Army was quickly cobbled together in 1979 to form an “international” army. Soldiers from different parts of the Soviet Union and Eastern European satellite states were drafted to serve in an army united by a common cause – defending the communist revolution in Afghanistan against the forces of the Western world. Similar to previous battles, the soldier-internationalist in

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Afghanistan often had a dual identity, belonging to the Soviet regime but also possessing a strong ethnic identity. The internationalist banner no longer papered over a diversity that could be a potential source of disloyalty to the Soviet regime; now “internationalism” was a source of pride and patriotism due to genuine belief among the military. The generation of conscripts drafted into the army were born in the 1950s and 1960s and raised on the Party’s pervasive internationalist propaganda. The memory of the Great Patriotic War was still fresh, and the Party drew much of the inspiration for its ideology from the country’s victory over Nazi Germany. Party leaders believed that the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan could boost domestic patriotism and also reassert the Soviet Army’s global standing by engaging in active combat. After World War II, Soviet military service was based on two broad principles: extra-territorial stationing of conscripts and detachment from the civilian population. Soviet conscripts were usually based away from their native territories during their active service, and military districts were located far from civilian population centers. In many cases, specialized military towns were built far from urban areas. But while encouraging the expression of Soviet-defined ethnic identities, the military exclusively used the Russian language to emphasize the “internationalist” nature of their community. Internationalists were soldiers with non-Russian backgrounds who spoke Russian and Russians who served among other peoples. This interplay was designed to create a sense of equality among conscripts, with the Russian language serving as a common denominator. Thus, like Soviet World War II veterans, veterans of the Soviet–Afghan war developed a twofold identity – one believing in the greatness of the Soviet regime and the other appreciating their own ethnic particularism. To cultivate this dual identity, instructors – including World War II veterans themselves – extolled the veterans’ courage and patriotism in defending the USSR against Nazi forces. Other, more subtle means included organizing special cultural events; the musicians and singers sent to Afghanistan to entertain contingents there presented their shows in the languages of the “peoples of the USSR and in Russian”, tugging at the heartstrings of conscripts from every corner of the Soviet Union.10 Despite the internationalist spirit of the Soviet Army, most Soviet and Russian sources refer to Soviet troops deployed to Afghanistan as “russkie” (the Russians), forgetting the variety of nations making up the Fortieth Army. Such impressions of the war have lingered to such a degree that the Fortieth Army, similar to the Soviet Army at large, is often referred to as a “Russian Army”. Veterans report the existence of inter-ethnic frictions, but they insist that clashes among individual conscripts or spontaneous group fights were rare. During the war’s course, Russian-language skills were crucial to escape confrontation or discrimination by Russian, Belarus, Ukrainian or Baltic conscripts. At times, even non-Russian conscripts with superior knowledge of the language could dominate their fellow countrymen with inferior language skills. To a large degree, however, the Fortieth Army’s soldiers from across the Soviet Union were able to cooperate.

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Ethnic awakening When the Soviets invaded Afghanistan, the Central Asian republics had few ties with their southern neighbor. Only historians and top political brass had some knowledge about the lands across the southern Soviet border. Young Central Asian conscripts deployed in 1979 were as confused about Afghanistan’s cultural and political composition as their counterparts from Russia and the South Caucasus. Members of the Red Army were often confused about the enemy they faced in Afghanistan, finding it difficult to understand why a civilian would become an armed rebel or lie about which village really supported the Soviet army. Afghanistan seemed exotic, and Central Asians had trouble understanding the local Farsi and Turkic dialects. The Central Asian conscripts for combat operations tended to speak Russian, while those speaking Uzbek or Tajik were drafted as translators. Central Asians were allocated to mostly non-combat positions, with many serving as radio operators. During the 1980s Central Asian ethnic identities in the region solidified and became ingrained in the collective consciousness. Each Central Asian republic adopted ethno-national symbols, and post–World War II generations were firm about their ethnic ties to their ethnic groups. There were small-scale intra-regional skirmishes among Central Asians at this time; fault lines that became more pronounced after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Some Central Asian veterans recall that, as with other Soviet institutions, the army’s non-Russian personnel were discouraged and sometimes even prohibited from communicating in their native languages. For conscripts with poor or no knowledge of Russian such restrictions created a sense of inferiority and ineptness vis-à-vis Russified conscripts. NonRussian conscripts were given lower-ranking jobs in everyday service and often excluded from responsible military tasks. Officers frequently verbally abused their subordinates with racial and nationalist epithets. Russian fluency signified that an individual belonged to a more urbanized and enlightened group of conscripts. Central Asian natives with better Russian-language skills sought to align themselves more with other Russian speakers than with their fellow countrymen. Nevertheless, the Afghan war allowed Central Asian conscripts to rise higher in the ranks than previous conflicts. Throughout the Soviet period the Central Asian republics had the lowest levels of economic development, which meant that Central Asian conscripts lacked their Russian peers’ level of professionalism and skills, especially in military technologies.11 Conscripts from Central Asia therefore generally had poorer economic backgrounds, weaker Russian language skills and lower levels of education compared with their counterparts from Russia and Ukraine. These disparities led to hazing based on ethnic background, alienation of non-Russian soldiers from their Russian counterparts and continuously lower performance by non-Russian soldiers. But inter-ethnic antagonism in the army was not confined to Russian conscripts feeling superior to their Central Asian fellow servicemen. Central Asian conscripts from rural areas despised the military’s forced Russification and the dominance of

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Russians in the officer corps. The sense of inferiority felt by Central Asian soldiers inevitably led to resentment, apathy, and weak commitment to their army service. Inter-ethnic antagonism in the military had been on the rise since the 1970s when the number of non-Russian conscripts noticeably increased, because the Muslim population of Central Asia and the South Caucasus was growing faster than any other part of the Soviet Union. The proportion of Russians in the local population in Central Asian cities and villages was already declining due to lower fertility rates among Russians and their gradual exodus from the region. Furthermore, it was clear that should these demographic tendencies continue, the proportion of Muslims versus Russians in the population would be much higher in the coming decades. Informal groupings based on ethnic background were widespread in the Soviet Army, with Baltic nations, Slavs, Caucasians and Central Asians forming their own hostile networks. On several occasions brutal fights among Azeri and Armenian, Tajik and Uzbek, and Baltic and Russian conscripts were reported. Although the Soviet Union was still a superpower, its army was rived with ethnic resentments and tensions. The Soviet Army with various ethnic groups serving alongside with each other exacerbated existing cleavages and indirectly encouraged confrontations among ethnic groups. In one notorious case, some 700 soldiers from Uzbekistan and the Caucasus clashed in December 1989.12 The war had an impact on ethno-nationalism and religious movements among the masses in Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, which emerged after the collapse of communism. The infamous case of Jumabai Khodjyiev, better known as Juma Namangani, from Namangan city who became an avid promoter of Islamic nationalism in Uzbekistan after serving in Afghanistan in 1988 and 1989, is a most illustrative example. Upon returning from the war, Namangani quickly acquired a reputation of a local leader, forming the Tovba movement together with Tohrir Yuldashev to establish a Chaliphate in the Ferghana Valley and Uzbekistan. After Karimov’s crackdown on Tovba, Namanghani escaped to Tajikistan and later to Afghanistan invigorating his contacts with the Mujahideen leaders, becoming a field commander of the IMU. Fighting on the side of the religious opposition in Tajikistan during the civil war there, in 1999 and 2000 Namangani led troops into southern Kyrgyzstan to cross the border into Uzbekistan. Namagani was killed in 2001 in Kunduz city in Afghanistan by NATO forces, while Yuldashev’s location remains unknown. In Tajikistan the onset of ethno-nationalist mobilization coincided with the Soviet war in Afghanistan. Tajik support personnel were employed for their knowledge of the area, culture, and the Farsi language.13 Since this was the first time that Soviet Tajiks were heavily exposed to their Afghani neighbors, Shukurov writes, “Tajik interpreters were genuinely shocked to realize that the Soviet troops are killing not strange foreigners in Afghanistan, but Tajiks similar to them [selves]”.14 At the same time, Tajik conscripts brought home secular and religious Iranian and Afghan literature. The spread of imported literature by “renowned poets and philosophers (Rumi, Attora, Sanoi and tens of others)” caused Tajiks to revisit their own culture, history and the influence of the Soviet regime.15 Indeed, Tajikistan’s

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scholars soon produced voluminous works on their ethnic group’s Aryan heritage, a common past linking the nation across Soviet borders with peoples in Iran and Afghanistan.16 Most Central Asian veterans, however, say that they drew a clear line between their Soviet identity, calling themselves internationalists, and the local Afghan population, despite often similar physical appearances and languages. After the war’s end, Afghan war veterans became avid supporters of the Soviet regime, and vivid promoters of pride and patriotism towards the Soviet Union, along with ethno-nationalism in politics and society. They longed for the restoration of a Soviet-type structure to unite the collapsed empire, but they also acted as proud citizens of their newly independent states. Such ethnocentric vigor was part of the successful cooperation between the veterans and government representatives later in the independence period. Their dual identity – the Soviet and national – explains the veterans’ support of both, the Soviet regime and the newly independent state. Although the Muslim population in Central Asia did not embrace the Islamic movements in Afghanistan and Iran, they were sympathetic toward their kinsmen. As one Tajik veteran recounts, he was assigned to extinguish a group of “dushman” (enemy) but found out that these were primarily civilians. He declined the task at the last moment and was punished by the commanders. Such instances of Central Asian conscripts siding with the local population while realizing they could not obey orders involving the killing of civilians with similar ethnic roots were fairly frequent. Indeed, reports of Tajik and other Central Asian conscript defections to the Mujahideen were a frequent occurrence, but it was not a collective behavior. In total, about 100 Central Asian conscripts defected to the Mujahideen and over 300 conscripts went missing, but this data remains contested.17 Some Afghan veterans believe that most people listed as “prisoners of war” were actually defectors who voluntarily joined the Mujahideen and betrayed the Soviet Army. Few non-Russians received honors or medals for their service in Afghanistan, despite the large numbers of Central Asian conscripts in the Fortieth Army. While 44 Russians and 12 Ukrainians were named Heroes of the Soviet Union, the country’s highest honor, only five Muslim conscripts received such recognition (one each from Tajikistan, Ingushetia, Tatarstan, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan).18 Soviet women Soviet women played a distinctive role in the Afghan conflict. The Fortieth Army included a special position, propagandist, responsible for agitation and propaganda in Afghanistan and distributing humanitarian aid. They served for two years and had a military background, but they did not participate in combat. Prior to deployment they underwent training in Tashkent. The position was usually, though not formally, filled by female officers from Central Asia. Informally, the position was nicknamed “aziatka” (an Asian woman). Charged with “emancipating” Afghan women, they taught local women about life in Soviet Central Asia. Propagandists screened movies about Soviet Central Asia and organized concerts and contests all across Afghanistan. They set up women into special clubs, where they competed in

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cooking skills, sewing and volleyball. A few local women who supported the Soviet regime were generously awarded medals and ranks to encourage equality among men and women in Afghanistan. In one project, local prostitutes were reorganized into a music band after their brothel was destroyed. Although they were not allowed to dance, singing supposedly would distance them from their past work experiences.19 Afghan President Muhommad Najibullah’s program of national reconciliation expanded the role of propagandists, seeing them as the main conduit from the Soviet regime to the local population. When women in Kabul protested the Soviets’ replacement of Babrak Karmal by Najibullah in 1986, for example, female Soviet propagandists were assigned to deal with them. Like Tatar women traveling to Central Asia from southern parts of Tsarist Russia in the early twentieth century to emancipate women living in backward Muslim societies, this time Central Asian women visited their southern counterparts. While sharing their experience of living in the Soviet Union, female propagandists from Central Asia were often taken aback by the striking differences between themselves and Afghan women.20 Central Asian women were better educated, had more opportunities in choosing careers, and enjoyed greater state support. But not only did these women emancipators face resistance among the local population, they also had to compete with their Western counterparts in the battle of ideas among the local population. Women, according to post-war memoirs, were among the first to realize that Soviet efforts in Afghanistan were futile after Najibullah’s policy failed in 1987. Because of their small numbers in service, there are only few women members in AVUs.

Media coverage of the war Soviet media coverage of the war was often misleading. Most newspapers had rationalized and glorified the April 27, 1978, military coup in Afghanistan. In the early years of the war, human-interest reports focused on celebrations of holidays by Afghan soldiers and their role in rebuilding Afghanistan. These reports also accused an “imperialistic” United States of intervening when Afghanistan decided to choose its own destiny. Civilian personnel, journalists, and musicians traveling to Afghanistan to assist, report or entertain conscripts there were poorly informed about the situation on the ground. By the mid 1980s mass media outlets began to assess the progress made by the Afghan communist forces in democratic and economic reform. The handful of old Soviet newspapers brought to Afghanistan along with cargo shipments served more to remind the troops that the war was rarely mentioned in the media. Although some freedom of speech was allowed during the Gorbachev era, reports about the Afghan war were intermittent and heavily censored. The heroics and suffering of Soviet soldiers in the Afghan war were mostly told through photo albums, memoirs written by veterans and movies and songs produced in the postSoviet period. Near the war’s end, the Soviet media focused on the Fortieth Army’s achievements in rebuilding and strengthening Afghanistan. Coverage of developments in Afghanistan, including the continuing attacks by Mujahideen, increased

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after the withdrawal of troops began in mid 1988. Works that analyzed the war’s implications for the Soviet state and society were not published until several years after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The popular belief in the Red Army, like the belief in the Soviet state, abruptly declined amid greater freedom of expression and a crashing economy. As the Soviet–Afghan war dragged on, citizens began to see military duty as a type of “poverty tax” that young men from rural and impoverished areas could not avoid. More soldiers were drafted from rural areas that had very little contact with other communities, fragmenting public knowledge about the war, as war stories never filtered into cities. Draft-age men in urban areas were able to escape military service by enrolling in universities, paying large bribes or using their connections in the party and government. The difference between the proportion of draftees from major cities vis-à-vis rural areas is evident from the number of Afghan War veterans in Moscow and St. Petersburg. While some 500,000 troops served in Afghanistan, Moscow has only 7,000 veterans, while St. Petersburg has 2,500.21 However, despite gloomy news emerging from the Soviets’ internationalist war “across the river,”22 thousands of former conscripts from the 1980s still regret not serving in the legendary Fortieth Army. Such longing persists even today among some Central Asians who served in elite regiments but who did not serve in Afghanistan. Indeed, their regret is deeply entrenched in a broader nostalgia for the Soviet Union.

AVUs – a living memory When the Soviet Union disintegrated two years after troops completely left Afghanistan, the decade-long war and its numerous veterans were quickly forgotten by the newly independent states. State subsidies to veterans diminished and rehabilitation programs were cancelled amid devastating economic crises and the decentralization of political leadership. State leaders and societies also quickly forgot the heroism and achievements of those who had fought in the Afghan war as they focused on the demands of independence. The war was officially deemed as the Soviet Union’s mistake, and people who initially remained loyal to the Soviet regime after its collapse blamed the war for the hardships inflicted by independence. Afghan veterans agonized about these sad developments in their written memoirs and narratives about the post-war adaptation period. The new governments dismissed the veterans, saying “I didn’t send you to Afghanistan,” and no one assumed responsibility for their pensions and health care. In the late 1990s and early 2000s Russian chapters of the AVU gradually spread across the former Soviet space. The veterans built transnational horizontal networks and expanded the scope of their joint activities. Each AVU is comprised of several formal leaders and honorary members – all veterans of the Afghan war and often other local conflicts that occurred during the independence period. AVUs usually have a solid administrative base responsible for organizing public events and promoting public outreach. To a large extent the emergence of AVUs was a response to states and societies’ ignorance of the Soviet military experience in

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Afghanistan. One of AVUs’ main missions has thus been countering the younger generation’s lack of interest in the war and the Soviet military build-up in general, an ignorance that the veterans consider to be unpatriotic. Consequently, the Russian AVU has constructed over 300 monuments dedicated to the fallen heroes of the war. AVUs argue that newly independent states failed to learn the lessons of the Afghan war – namely, the value of life and the destructiveness of war. They perceive such ignorance as being part of the reason for the collapse of the Soviet Union, confrontation among successor states, and the war in Chechnya.23 By the early 2000s the veterans unions’ internal structure became highly organized, with over 78 offices located in 74 regions of the Russian Federation and dozens across other post-Soviet states.24 Their members range in age between 40 and 60. In 2005 Russian Afghan veterans began closer cooperation with the remaining World War II veterans. AVUs continue to accept the Soviet leadership’s rationale for invading Afghanistan and Soviet interpretations of the war’s outcome. AVUs challenge Western viewpoints of the war that criticize the Soviet military organization in the Afghanistan campaign, while veterans deny instances of hazing, low morale, poor training and devastating service conditions. In Central Asia particularly, AVUs continue to firmly believe the cause was just and executed appropriately. AVU leaders are usually distinguished veterans of the Fortieth Army, often recipients of the Red Star medal, one of the Soviet Union’s highest honors. They are also often honored with medals invented during the independence period such as “Ardager,” “Veteran of the combat operations” and “Batyr shapaghaty” in Kazakhstan and “Manas” in Kyrgyzstan. Leaders of the Central Asian AVUs often admit that they are inspired by their Russian counterparts’ active promotion of army service among younger generations. They mimic Russian AVU strategies in glorifying the fallen soldiers and communicating with school students about the benefits of the army service. As Khakim Rafik, a veteran from Kazakhstan, concludes, it is the duty of Afghan veterans and other public organizations to promote patriotism among the population so that religious and national separatists do not steal this role.25 Despite their pride in their service, Afghan veterans admit that their experience is still surrounded by many mysteries and while recovering lost memories of their service years after the war’s end, other memories fade away. AVUs throughout the former Soviet states are often inspired by the ideas and visions of Boris Gromov, the last Colonel General of the Fortieth Army and the last Soviet fighter to cross the Amu Darya River from Afghanistan into Soviet territory. His patriotic vigor and military professionalism continue to make him an ideal “soldier internationalist” for Afghan veterans. Many AVUs have used passages from his book – Ogranichenny kontingent (A Limited Contingent), which is clearly influenced by Soviet indoctrination as well as official slogans and interpretations of the reasons and consequences of the war. Like Gromov, AVU leaders insist that Mujahideen were not able to stage any massive attacks against the Soviet troops and were acting rather reactively on the battlefield. “I attentively watch publications about the Fortieth Army and often catch myself on a thought that they were written by people

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more partial than competent,” Gromov writes. “Maybe, the truth about the Afghan war and about the courage of Soviet soldiers is not known to anyone, but those who fought it, will [be able to] tell.”26 Afghan veterans in all Central Asian states continue to extol patriotism and the prestige of military service, albeit with differing degrees of enthusiasm. Most Afghan veterans believe that military service must be a compulsory occupation where conscripts are infused with patriotism. Furthermore, they believe that it is every man’s duty to be a reservist for their national army. AVUs promote patriotism in various ways, including sending veterans to visit schools and staging concerts with military-themed songs. On February 15, the anniversary of the final Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan, AVUs publish special newspapers, deliver public speeches and organize public events. Under directions from the Russian AVU, national offices in Central Asia are encouraged to award medals to veterans who were not recognized during or after the war for different reasons. AVUs also regularly support veterans’ mothers and families with small financial donations. AVUs often unite veterans from other “local wars” that have occurred since 1991. Some local Russian AVUs include veterans of wars in Chechnya, while the Bishkek branch includes veterans of the two wars in Batken, Kyrgyzstan. The AVU in Dushanbe includes veterans of Tajikistan’s civil war. Almost all AVUs regularly coordinate activities with World War II veterans. The unions are part of the World Veterans Federation (WVF).27 Formed in 1999, Kazakhstan’s AVU has over 35,000 members. Like their Russian counterparts, Kazakhstani veterans have erected monuments to the fallen heroes and participate in patriotic propaganda. Kazakhstan’s Afghan veterans also published a book with recommendations on dealing with terrorist organizations. In addition to Afghan veterans and World War II veterans, the AVU membership in Kazakhstan includes former members of the Chernobyl recovery crews. In Kyrgyzstan, the AVU embraces over 15,000 people – double the total number of Kyrgyz Afghan veterans, including honorary members who passed away during or after the war.28 “Veteran,” Uzbekistan’s AVU branch, is the oldest and largest among Central Asian AVUs, counting over 65,000 members. Uzbek veterans began consolidating as early as 1985 and held their first meeting in 1986. However, the Uzbek AVU briefly foundered, partly due to corruption among its members. It revived in 1999 thanks to new sources of funding from members. Starting in 1999 Uzbek Afghan veterans began to seek a greater role within national defense institutions by both acquiring positions in state structures and attracting active military officers into their membership. The union sought to collaborate with the Defense Ministry and Security Council, following the lead of their Russian counterparts. In 2006 the Uzbek office of AVU became part of the Russian office and the WVF. Compared with AVUs in neighboring states, the Uzbek wing is less active as a civil society group due to the more restrictive political regime. Little information about the work of AVUs is available to the public through mass media or the Internet. Tajikistan’s office of AVU “Union of Veterans of soldiers-internationalists” was formed in 2002 but did not really become active until 2006. The Tajik

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AVU held its first meeting in 1992, but the civil war (1992–1997) interrupted its activity. In 2006, its membership numbered roughly 8,900 veterans. The fact that most Tajik natives were recruited to non-military positions in Afghanistan also explains the weakness of the Tajik veterans’ office. Tajik AVU’s leader Surobsho Alimov served as a head of a veterans committee within the Defense Ministry during the Tajik civil war. Afghan veterans from all Central Asian states participated in peacemaking operations at the Tajik–Afghan border during the civil war. Turkmenistan’s AVU has limited access to the interstate activities of its counterparts. Ashkhabad’s policy of isolationism and neutrality arguably prevented the establishment of ties with Afghan veterans in other post-Soviet states.

Role in domestic policies The AVUs hope to be a consolidating force in society. In Kyrgyzstan, for example, Afghan veterans have mobilized during several civil crises. In the summer of 1991 violence erupted between Kyrgyz and Uzbeks in the city of Osh, leaving dozens of civilians dead or wounded. Afghan veterans sought to mediate between the civilian population and the law-enforcement structures during this tense time. Afghan veterans came to their work places wearing their uniforms and medals in protest of the strife. They rode buses, swept streets and merely walked in public to express their condemnation of the conflict. This consolidation was rather ad hoc, without any top-down ideological guidance.29 Similarly, during the two wars in Batken, Kyrgyzstan’s Afghan veterans formed special units to repel an assault by IMU guerillas. As one member of the AVU in Bishkek recounts, “When Mujahideen heard that Afghan veterans were to participate in defense actions, they were scared, even began to surrender.”30 Even disabled veterans volunteered to serve in the Batken campaigns. Following the Batken conflict, when the urgency of reforming the military sector became more evident, the Kyrgyz National Security Service and Ministry of Defense actively sought advice from Afghan veterans experienced in warfare in mountainous areas. Afghan veterans also defended the government headquarters in Bishkek on March 24 and 25, 2005 when President Askar Akayev was ousted by crowds of opposition and in the following days when looting spread throughout the city. Without taking sides in the conflict, the veterans defended the “common good” that belongs both to the people and to the state. Although the CPSU had encouraged AVUs activities, albeit with a structure imposed by the communist leadership, after the USSR’s collapse the AVUs developed independently from the national political leadership in all of the successor states. Kyrgyzstan’s AVU began active consolidation following the Batken conflict. The organization’s leader, Abdygul Chotbayev, an Afghan veteran himself, served as a Commander of the Kyrgyz National Guard and later in a number of other high-ranking positions, including Minister of Defense. Along with the then Defense Minister Esen Topoyev, Chotbayev was one of the key figures behind the government’s defense strategy for Batken.

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The AVUs’ expanded participation in public life also coincided with government efforts to increase the prestige of military service in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. Astana and Bishkek encouraged Afghan veterans to participate in recruiting campaigns and meet with prospective conscripts and active-duty soldiers. In Kazakhstan, for instance, the leaders of the local AVU headquarters met with Defense Minister Bolot Zhanasayev to revise the school curriculum for military education. Afghan veterans say they are alarmed by how little students today understand their country’s new symbols or know about historical heroes.31 Veterans convinced political officials to use Kazakh, rather than Russian, when addressing military personnel on national holidays and for everyday communication in the military as a whole. Kazakh veterans also introduced special medals for the heroes of the Soviet–Afghanistan war. Finally, the Kazakh Ministry of Defense used the professional experience of veterans in planning military reform. AVUs are well funded by their members’ contributions and the Russian union of Afghan veterans. Most Russian AVUs have a solid financial base as well as ample political representation in parliament and local government. AVUs across the former Soviet space often speak in support of ruling regimes and share ties with their counterparts in the government. In 2007, as many as 18 Afghan veterans had seats in the Russian parliament, Pavel Grachev served as Russian Defense Minister and Ruslan Aushev, the former President of Ingushetia, is an Afghan veteran. AVU leaders communicate with these politicians on a first-name basis.

Revisiting the war Along with their active political and economic roles, some Afghan veterans are gradually revisiting the Soviet leadership’s decision to invade Afghanistan. Veterans discuss competing views on the justification for the invasion and the intra-Party divide between those who spoke for and against the invasion. Some veterans openly admit that they examined the invasion more consciously only after the collapse of the USSR, while hardly questioning Soviet ideology during their service in Afghanistan. But even veterans who continue to support the decision to invade criticize the way the Party informed Soviet citizens about the war. Among themselves, however, the veterans do not believe that the war was in vain. A belief in the glorious cause for invading Afghanistan and the heroic experience of the Fortieth Army is crucial to the AVU’s rationale for existing. They only criticize the military training given to the very first troops deployed to Afghanistan on December 27, 1979. These units were mainly reservists confused about their role and unable to carry out military tasks, AVU members agree. One veteran from Almaty compares this strategic mistake with the events in Baku in 1990, when the Azerbaijani government deployed inexperienced reservists to deal with crowds protesting the Soviet regime.32 Another sign of a strong sense of community among Afghan veterans is their vocal condemnation of organized crime. Cases of Afghan veterans’ alleged involvement in organized crime were widespread in the mid 1990s across the Soviet Union. Afghan veterans, however, explain that despite their skills in

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handling weapons and acquired warfare experience, they almost never participated in underground criminal networks. “Afghans [war veterans] know how to shoot, but like World War II veterans, they value and are proud of their war experience,” insisted one veteran who had served in Afghanistan in his mid 20s.33 Even impoverished veterans living in rural areas where organized crime traditionally flourishes have largely refused to become part of the criminal groups. One reason for this united stance is the informal control AVUs retain over their members, by condemning and shaming any misconduct. Unlike Western accounts, Afghan veterans sternly deny that the Fortieth Army was low and it was divided from inside because of ethnic rifts, mass use of drugs and alcoholism. Although isolated instances took place, most veterans insist that the Fortieth Army’s internal morale was high. But contrary to most western accounts, violence originating from drug use, hazing or inter-ethnic confrontation was rare, while friendly and partnership relations were the norm. Hazing, in particular, often took the form of “starshiki,” or “starosluzhascshie” (elders) ordering “synki” (the younger ones, “little sons”) to cover them from the rear at offensive operations. In one such occasion, a young 18-year old conscript died defending his commanders and the entire unit when everyone ran out of bullets. He was granted with the Hero of Soviet Union honor after his death. As one veteran from Bishkek recounts: We were told that we are defending the southern frontiers of our country, we were patriots. Even when Gorbachev began pulling out Soviet troops out of Afghanistan in 1989 many refused to leave seeking revenge for their fallen comrades or expressing their honor to serve the Motherland, those who served only half a year instead of two years were insisting that they serve the entire period …34 Central Asian recruits who served in national armies during the post-Soviet independence period offer a somewhat different explanation. They argue that Fortieth Army soldiers’ six-month training prior to deployment to Afghanistan inevitably elevated them from the lowest informal ranks to higher ones. Due to their special skills and training, no Central Asian conscript had to prove his nerve in the army’s informal hierarchy and therefore hazing was not as cruel at war as in peacetime. Furthermore, some commanders or informal authorities were afraid of deception at critical moments by soldiers who undergone unfair and cruel treatment and avoided non-authorized behavior. Cases of hazing are rarely mentioned in written memoirs by Afghan veterans as well. Those who admit instances of hazing argue it was not symptomatic of service conditions in Afghanistan or the general ambiance inside the Fortieth Army, but imported by the Soviet subculture of violence. As one such memoir recounts, hazing originated from soldiers from troubled families, former juvenile convicts and members of violent communities often found in the Soviet Union. Soviet women who came for illegal earnings to Afghanistan with “pre-Afghan immoral experience” were perceived as a part of such an underground, despised world too.35 Inside

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the army, as veterans recount now, traitors were condemned, while a sense of community helped to cope with poor living conditions. Afghan veterans maintain a strong patriotism resembling that of World War II veterans. AVU members themselves emphasize the fact that veterans of the “Great Fatherland War” were their heroes and role models. Afghan veterans insist their pre-war training was comprehensive and intense. Most veterans agree that the quality of training received before deployment to Afghanistan was superior to the preparation of current Central Asian troops. Both the technical and ideological dimensions were more thorough. On average, new conscripts trained for six months – not a few weeks or days as indicated by most Western sources – in one of the Central Asian republics, mainly to get acclimatized to the region and mountains. Conscripts also spent roughly three months in Kabul or other parts of Afghanistan learning the specifics of local languages, traditions and culture prior to being deployed to military stations. Unlike conscripts from Eastern Europe and Russia, Central Asians were better able to adapt to Afghanistan’s climate and were already familiar with local peculiarities. Conscripts from Siberia, the Baltic states, and Ukraine required special training to survive climate differences, while Central Asian conscripts lacked professional military training. While realizing that their experience is needed in the current military reform efforts, Afghan veterans are bitter because they are largely forgotten during peacetime. As veterans have written: Unfortunately this example of successful use of the vast potential and experience of the veterans of Afghanistan is not quite typical for the [Kazakhstan] army. They are remembered only when it becomes urgent. [Their] combat experience of the Afghan war is not generalized, not researched like the experience of the Great Fatherland War. That’s a pity because Afghan [experience] surely has answers to many questions that will rise before unit commanders in the future wars in Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan mountains ...36 Thus, AVUs are one of the few civil society formations that were established under the Soviet regime but continue their work well into the independence era. Largely thanks to their internal ideological solidarity, the Afghan veterans play a subtle, yet persuasive role both in military institutions in the Central Asian countries as well as in national security, education and politics. The AVUs are a key component of civil society, organizing interstate meetings among themselves, supporting their members who ended up living in poverty after the war and conducting regular lectures at educational institutions nationwide. In the political domain Afghan veterans occupy the bulk of the positions at military institutions and have become the major source of knowledge sharing on mountainous warfare, an experience most Central Asian militaries sought to acquire after the spread of IMU and Hizb-ut-Tahrir in the region. Afghan veterans with prior experience in the military often stayed in military service following their return home.

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Still fighting an old enemy AVU members still firmly believe the Soviet Union won its military campaign in Afghanistan. The veterans’ networks reinforce the Soviet conceptions about the Cold War enemy that inevitably resonated with Vladimir Putin’s anti-Western rhetoric. As such, the USSR’s victory in Afghanistan is mostly ascribed to be a triumph against the US and the West. Consequently, Afghan veterans argue firmly against the US and NATO’s Enduring Freedom campaign in Afghanistan. In extreme cases, the West’s prolonged anti-terrorism campaign is perceived as the continuation of Cold War confrontation and a conspiracy against Russia and former Soviet Central Asian states that are directly influenced by developments in Afghanistan. Two decades after the war’s end, Afghan veterans across the region have different explanations of why the US fought the Soviet Union in Afghanistan. Similarly, the role of Central Asian AVUs in security structures as well as their active participation in public life has been rising against the background of the US and NATO war against terrorism in Afghanistan. Afghan veterans throughout the former Soviet Union sided with Russia in its military confrontation with Georgia in August 2008. For them, the war between Georgian and Russian troops in South Ossetia was a repetition of the West’s proxy attack against Russia via Afghanistan. Most officers participating in the Russian invasion of South Ossetia formerly served in Afghanistan and Chechnya. Officially the Central Asian states did not support Moscow’s actions in South Ossetia, but veterans and military officials agreed that the conflict was instigated by the West to “primarily test Russia’s military capacity.”37 A similar interpretation is mooted around Ukraine’s cooperation with the West. AVU leaders see Ukraine as the next battleground between the West and Russia. Mostly military brass was supportive of Dmitry Medvedev and Vladimir Putin’s campaign in Georgia. Like the Russian leaders, they too believed in the righteousness of Russian politics and the West’s wish to destabilize Russia through proxy wars in Georgia. Furthermore, Afghan veterans perceive Operation Enduring Freedom as Washington’s wish to dominate the world under the cover of democracy. A political expert from Tajikistan, Victor Dubovitsky, for instance, argues that both wars intentionally divided Muslim communities and nations.38 Some Central Asians even see the Western presence in Afghanistan as an impediment to peace in their own country and friendly relations with their southern neighbors. They share the view that the US government finances terrorist organizations to increase its own presence across the world and impose its own political agenda.39 Although these views are rather radical, they do resonate. These views are propagated throughout the government and educational institutions through veterans’ networks, as well as by other public officials. These views are also spread in their publications and speeches and influence foreign policy orientations in national defense structures’ cooperative or conflicting relations. The Afghan unions, for instance, opposed NATO’s anti-terrorist campaign in Afghanistan, with some AVU leaders arguing that the Alliance’s failures showed the Mujahideen the superiority of the Soviet regime. As one veteran argues, “The Afghans have understood that Americans will not treat them as we did, they will not

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put them in the same hospital room with themselves, will not donate blood, share food with them or build roads and schools for them.” In Kazakhstan, Afghan veterans protested against sending national peacekeeping troops to Afghanistan because they would be assisting NATO forces. This disagreement with the Kazakh government countered Astana’s effort strive to join international peacekeeping efforts with NATO and the UN. Kazakhstan native Oleg Rubets, a former officer with the Fortieth Army taken hostage by Mujahideen, was one such public figure speaking against the West’s presence in Afghanistan. Rubets embraced Islam and changed his name to Alihadji ibn Al-Apsheroni in 1988. A decade later he became a leading promoter of inter-religious and inter-ethnic tolerance and the Kazakh government’s notorious authority to consult on security issues in the region. On numerous occasions AlApsheroni has been invited to comment on the Kazakh government’s policy in Afghanistan and whether Kazakhstan should send its peacekeeping battalion (KazBat) there. He sternly disapproved KazBat’s deployment to Afghanistan, suggesting instead sending civilian professionals to help rebuild the country. AlApsheroni draws parallels with the Soviet Union that “for 70 years assisted Afghanistan [economically], thanks to which Soviet people enjoyed irrefutable trust in the pre-war Afghanistan. But right after deploying troops, when we came there armed, they began perceiving us as invaders.”40 Al-Apsheroni condemned the US and NATO military campaign in Afghanistan, seeing no possibility in establishing security there unless President Hamid Karzai relies on a coalition agreement with all local political forces instead of foreign troops. At the early stages of the US anti-terrorism campaign in Afghanistan AlApsheroni, along with numerous other Afghan veterans, predicted that Western soldiers as well as the Bush administration would fail to understand local peoples’ mentality and traditions and therefore lose the war. Few other Afghan veterans condemned the Kazakh government’s decision to send peacekeepers to Afghanistan, but some veterans accused the peacekeepers of being interested in Afghanistan only for the extra salary (up to $600) they would draw from duty there.41 Despite these objections, in 2003 the Kazakh government deployed KazBat to Iraq to serve alongside US-led Coalition troops there, while Al-Apsheroni’s influence faded. While enjoying popularity in Kazakhstan for his advocacy, Al-Apsheroni once was a strong supporter of President Nursultan Nazarbayev. On a number of occasions he was invited for consultancies by the Ministry of Defense and the Uzbekistan National Security Service (Sluzhba Natsional’noi bezopasnosti, SNB) to assess Kazakhstan’s religious organizations’ activity, their inclination towards extremist ideas and potential challenge to national security. Like Al-Apsheroni, Afghan veterans are appointed to responsible positions, including in the private sector across Kazakhstan.

Nightmares from the Afghan syndrome Although AVUs are well funded through ample contributions by its better-off members, many veterans still live in poverty and are unable to find a job. Many

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blame the poverty and unemployment among their comrades on an “Afghan syndrome,” which refers to post-traumatic stress among the generation of young males who were deployed to serve in Afghanistan around the age of 18. Upon returning from the war, these young veterans were experiencing post-war trauma and were offered little rehabilitation treatment, if at all. “While our former classmates were enjoying all amenities of life, playing football, drinking vodka and getting married, we were formed as adults in the warfare, being unable to explain everyday life at peace time,” laments one veteran who served in Afghanistan at a young age.42 In the late 1980s when the war lost popularity, some conscripts were as young as 15 years old. Often sons of single mothers and only sons were conscripted indiscriminately, which was against the law. Afghan veterans expected to be celebrated like the World War II veterans, but they faced a dramatically different reception. Unlike the heroes of the 1940s, this generation of young veterans was unable to find jobs in cities and had to return to their villages following the collapse of the Soviet regime. They often felt social discrimination, as they were perceived as being chronically ill, mentally unbalanced, and violent. Such perceptions inevitably interfered with their job searches or social encounters. Up to 95 percent of conscripts experienced hepatitis, cholera and malaria. Repercussions of these diseases are still felt today among veterans. However, rehabilitation centers serving veterans became virtually inexistent after 1991, and monthly disability payments amounted to only a few dollars, breeding resentment against the government. Physiological and physical rehabilitation centers were first opened in the late 1990s, as a few Afghan veterans acquired high political ranks or became successful businessmen. Veterans with more successful paths contribute to AVUs and build medical centers, while their comrades live in poverty. Ironically, most Afghan veterans are anti-capitalist, preferring socialist leadership and religious tolerance to social and economic differentiation. All these qualities endure despite a more liberal economy in the post-Soviet period and a greater division between more and less affluent veterans. Despite their arduous work in propagating patriotism, religious and ethnic tolerance and prestige of military service, Afghan veterans were rarely officially elevated to the rank of modern national heroes by the Central Asian governments. Instead, they continue to be associated with Soviet times and the “wrong war.” They resent the far greater respect shown to veterans of the Second World War, especially on Victory Day, every May 9. The date of the Soviet Union’s withdrawal from Afghanistan and details of the war are rarely remembered.

Conclusions Afghan veterans believe in the superiority of the Soviet Army and continue to do so long after the demise of the Soviet Union. Their communities organized into AVUs across former Soviet states are, in effect, a vivid demonstration of the Soviet ideological machine’s longevity, outlasting the Soviet Union itself. Soviet sources describe the history of the Soviet invasion in Afghanistan as a fight of Soviet

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“internationalist” soldiers and most Afghan veterans continue to identify themselves as internationalist – soldiers from different ethnic backgrounds united behind one cause. Soviet Afghan veterans were raised by the ideals of the Soviet heroes in the Second World War and expected a similar glorification of their achievements upon winning the war with Mujahideen. After realizing their heroism was ignored by the Soviet regime and later by national government, Afghan veterans consolidated in supportive networks that empowered them as a peculiar group in politics and society. AVUs became early civil society formations that rapidly grew in membership and political influence, eventually becoming a financially self-sustaining force. However, along with this remarkable and unexpected mobilization of former military men into a vibrant network, their understanding of the causes and consequences of the Soviet war in Afghanistan remain unchanged, proving the durability of the Soviet ideological machine. The Central Asian veterans of the war in Afghanistan in particular remained loyal to the Soviet ideology and antagonistic towards the former enemy – the United States. The AVUs reveal that the Soviet military remained a heavily indoctrinated institution from the days when the Red Army recruited Central Asian conscripts in the early years of the Soviet regime’s establishment, through the war in Afghanistan. It was the first Soviet structure to carry out the missions of the Soviet regime and one of the few to outlive the Soviet Union. Perhaps largely unnoticed or at times taken for granted, Afghan veterans began playing a momentous role in the formation of military policies and identification of security threats in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. Throughout the region, AVUs spoke against the Western anti-terrorism campaign in Afghanistan following the 9/11 events. They thus contributed to negative perceptions of the role Western actors play in the region. Indeed, any soldier wants to believe that he is fighting for a bigger cause than himself and disappointment with this cause is devastating. But it remains striking how Western accounts about the course of the war, culture of military service in the Fortieth Army and regular soldiers’ perceptions of the war vary with what local perspectives on the war reveal. For the Afghan veterans the war was an ultimate expression of patriotism, courage and bravery, a romantic development in Soviet soldiers’ lives. Few in Central Asia realize this hidden role the veterans play, fewer in the West know that the role of the Afghanistan experience in the region is not a matter of the past.

3

Military institutions as part of state-building during independence

In the mid 1980s domestic tensions between ethnic groups and nationalist movements began to grow throughout the Soviet Union. A clash between civilians and the Soviet armed forces in Almaty in December 1986 revealed an open disagreement with Gorbachev’s changes to the Kazakh SSR’s leadership. The crowds collected in central Almaty to protest against the replacement of Kazakh Party First Secretary Dinmukhammed Kunayev, an ethnic-Kazakh leader, by Gennady Kolbin. Roughly 200 people died in the riots, but some sources indicate that as many as 1,000 were shot dead on the days of the demonstration or executed soon after it. Tensions between Armenia and Azerbaijan over Nagorno-Karabakh were on the rise as well, while Baltic states were openly demanding independence from the Soviet regime. Nationalist movements were rising in Georgia, Moldova, and Uzbekistan. Finally, Gorbachev’s policy of glasnost allowed the Tajik Rastokhez political party that formed in the 1970s to come out of the shadows and participate in riots in Tajikistan in February 1990 against the government’s alleged distribution of housing to Armenian refugees. In response the Soviet leadership deployed some 5,000 troops to Tajikistan and announced a state of emergency. Amid these tensions in Soviet republics, political leaders in the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) were increasingly appealing to the ethnonationalist feelings of the Russian population, which felt that it was losing control over Soviet nationalities and spending unnecessary resources to maintain stability there. Gorbachev could not offer a viable solution to rising tensions in the Soviet republics. His plans in 1988 and 1989 to reduce the Soviet armed forces by 500,000 men and GNP expenditure from 17 percent to 10 percent were resisted by the Party apparatus and exposed the USSR’s struggle to deal with its economic crisis. The military comprised roughly 25 percent of the Soviet industrial activity in the late years of the Soviet Union’s existence. Gorbachev tried to increase the supply of consumer goods to alleviate tensions across the Soviet Union, but despite some increase, the majority of the population still encountered severe deficits of products. The withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan took place amid public dissatisfaction with Gorbachev’s political and economic reforms. Despite Gorbachev’s promises to turn around the declining economy, living standards did not improve.

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After the endorsement of the law “On the Procedure for Secession by a Union Republic of the USSR” in early 1990, the Soviet Republics were de jure able to declare their separation from the Soviet Union. However, the law imposed elaborate restrictions on the secession procedure. After some hesitation, Gorbachev sent Soviet troops to Lithuania, which had already declared its sovereignty from the Soviet Union in May 1989. Along with Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Azerbaijan and Georgia were all either passing constitutional laws on their sovereignty or on the right to veto an all-Union legislature. Not being able to prevent the process of separation among the Baltic states in the first months of 1990, the RSFSR led by Chairman of the Supreme Soviet Boris Yeltsin announced its independence on June 11 of that year. Yet, this move by itself still did not signify the beginning of the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Rather, Yeltsin’s establishment of a Russian army and an economic policy separate from other Soviet republics played a momentous role in the Soviet Union’s disintegration. His plans for greater independence for Russia were mixed with nationalist calls and found sympathy among the Russian population across the Soviet space. As the Baltic states and Eastern Europe continued to break away from the Soviet regime, Gorbachev faced antagonism among military officials for giving away significant military arsenals and infrastructure that were located on the seceded territories. Complaints from the armed forces over the Party’s political course were becoming louder in the late 1980s through 1991. Ultimately, the military turned into a major resisting force against the dissolution of the Soviet Union, attempting to protect the union by refusing to recognize the sovereignty of the Baltic states. The Party’s conservative wing insisted that the USSR joint military structures must remain due to the international threats that were posed to the entire Union and that the break up of the Soviet military forces would inspire inter-republican armed confrontation.1 That individual countries would also attain control over nuclear forces on their territories and decrease the union’s ability for joint offensive or defensive actions was another major concern. For Yeltsin, it was vital to promote leading military officials who enjoyed influence in military and security institutions into governing positions to assure their support and to prevent a military coup.2 1990 was marked by massive shipments of military arsenals and the withdrawal of troops from Eastern European states. The Soviet Union’s then Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze had to break up the Warsaw Pact’s military agreement and sign the Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE Treaty). At the same time, the Soviets’ bitter experience during the Afghan war and the general economic hardship prevented the Russian army from getting involved in armed clashes in the South Caucasus or elsewhere on its territory. As open and hidden confrontation between the Party’s conservatives, who were seeking to maintain the Soviet Union, and its liberals, who were promoting a greater independence for Soviet republics, continued to brew, the events on Soviet territory grew more unpredictable. Gorbachev seemed to have little control over the OMON (riot police) as it killed 15 people during the riot in Vilnius in January 1991, which suddenly opened the possibility of using armed force against civilians across

Military institutions as part of state-building 55 the Soviet Union. On March 17 a referendum was voted on asking Soviet republics whether the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics should be renewed as a federation of equal sovereign republics in which the rights and freedoms of an individual of any nationality would be fully guaranteed. While the Baltic states, Armenia, Georgia and Moldova boycotted the referendum, some 80 percent of the population in Russia, five Central Asian republics, Ukraine and Belarus voted in favor of the new Soviet regime. The republics that voted in favor of the Soviet Union gave a fresh, albeit short lived, impetus for both Gorbachev and Yeltsin to preserve the Soviet Union in a reformed format. On August 19, 1991 KGB chief Vladimir Kryuchkov, Prime Minister Valentin Pavlov, Defense Minister Dmitry Yazov, Vice President Gennady Yanayev and others organized a coup to prevent the signing of a Union Treaty that would grant greater sovereignty to Soviet Republics, mobilizing internal troops across the Soviet space to raid cities to prevent any mass gathering that could threaten the USSR. Central Asian First Secretaries condemned the separation of the Baltic states before the August 19 coup, but as the coup collapsed three days later, it became inevitable that they announce the independence of their own republics. Kyrgyzstan was the first to announce its independence on August 31, followed by Uzbekistan on September 1, Tajikistan on September 17, and Turkmenistan on October 27, and finally Kazakhstan on December 16.

The formation of the CIS and CST For all Soviet successor states the end of the Cold War meant both the end of an integrated Soviet military with a strong centralized power and having to contend with rapidly changing world politics. With the breakup of the USSR and the accompanying loss of the Soviet Army, the former Soviet states lost one of their most important mechanisms of foreign policy. Military institutions were mainly funded by the Central Command during Soviet times, but after the breakup of the Soviet Union, organizational starting points for the military differed drastically in each state. Both Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan inherited a large military infrastructure, with a greater degree of independent military production and available equipment. Kazakhstan received army corps centers, armor and motor rifle divisions, military educational complexes, brigade ordinance, an air-assault division and other military formations. Similarly, Uzbekistan gained control over an ample amount of armored vehicles and military aircraft. By contrast, in Tajikistan, almost all of the post-Soviet military equipment was placed under Russian jurisdiction and appropriated to the Russian 201st Motor Rifle Division, which had been stationed in Tajikistan since 1943. Kyrgyzstan received several types of armaments but lacked any significant military industry. The asymmetric distribution of Soviet military infrastructure across states shaped their understanding of their potential capabilities compared to different neighbors. Towards the late 1990s and early 2000s, regional security cooperation became complicated due to the nature of Soviet military planning in the region which led to the emergence of militarily stronger and weaker states.

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Armies in post-Soviet republics turned into armies without a state with confused loyalties and understandings of their own professional ideology. Their future functions remained uncertain. Military officials were unable to clearly define what status they would attain in the new reality and what country they would serve. Soviet-trained nuclear scientists were underpaid and most of them were invited to work in Western Europe and the US; while the sector in general was partially looted by criminals due to poor management by national governments. In the early years of the post-Soviet reality conventional arms and military facilities were sold on the black market and smuggling prospered amid almost nonexistent control by a central state. Undersupplied and underfinanced, the armed forces changed their loyalties to national governments quite easily despite the fact that they were largely marginalized in the transition period while also being in control of guns. The deep sense of an ethnic identity once manufactured by Stalin granted the political elites a rationale to prioritize national sovereignty and unity among the civilian population and military personnel. Such nationalism was further translated into ethnocentric symbols and slogans which in turn shaped their professional ideologies. On December 13, 1991 all five central Asian states rushed to join the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) group, USSR’s successor, hoping it would support the continuation of the Soviet Union. CIS member states signed numerous agreements regarding the statuses of ex-Soviet armed forces. Within the first six months after the CIS’ creation, its members signed some 24 agreements. Since not all states were convinced about CIS agreements on the future control of armed forces and other related issues, more ambiguity over the fate of the former Soviet military arose. At that period Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan were willing to share control over their armed forces with Russia. All three states were mainly driven by their perceived and real material dependence on Russia and an inability to formulate national security legislation. However, unlike its neighbors, Uzbekistan remained unwilling to share its considerable military infrastructure and numerous armed forces. One of the primary concerns of the CIS was the management of Soviet armed forces and military industries. Among all issues, the fate of nuclear weapons in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and Kazakhstan was especially vital. After all, the collapse of the Soviet Union to a great extent signified the collapse of a nuclear super power, a challenge the West had been facing since the end of World War II. The military operational basis, military economy, and military personnel were so interconnected in the Soviet Union that keeping it under the CIS command was an easier choice than dividing it.3 Both for Russia and successor states, creating their own militaries on the basis of Soviet infrastructure seemed like a financially and logistically insurmountable challenge. In effect, all former Soviet states would be left without a coherent army, while also having Russian troops present on their territories. Several models for restructuring the Soviet military into CIS institutions were suggested by military officials. The CIS armed forces could either be combined or unified by Colonel General Konstantin Kobet and USSR Minister of Defense Marshal Yevgeny Shaposhnikov, respectively. Both models granted

Military institutions as part of state-building 57 various degrees of autonomy at the republican level.4 Shaposhnikov was in favor of multiple layers of control over unified armed forces on the CIS level, while in Kobet’s model heads of successor republics received greater sovereignty in military planning and command. At that time Kobet’s plan seemed more feasible as a number of republics had already moved into an active stage of nationalizing their militaries. Both the Russian military and political leadership used nationalist rhetoric in propagating the idea of CIS troops. However, with much of pretense from the Russian leadership for the continuity of the Soviet military, it was largely unclear for the successor states what political authority Russia and they themselves would share. Ukraine in particular opposed the idea of CIS troops. Being a significant part of the Soviet military infrastructure, officials in Kiev rejected the idea of a joint army in principle.5 Although joining the CIS, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova kept their participation at a lower level.6 By contrast, the Central Asian states and Armenia were most enthusiastic about participating in the CIS, encouraging Russia to take a leadership position. In Moscow, both nationalists and communists felt confined by the idea of Russia forming its own military forces, but were wary of the possibility that successor states would turn against Russia should a joint military command within the CIS fail. Kazakhstan was the most active promoter of CIS Armed Forces partly due to a sizable exodus of Russia officers. The country contained especially high numbers of Soviet armed forces that guarded strategic military sites. Kazakh leader Nursultan Nazarbayev actively promoted the idea of CIS forces and regional cooperation in his policy, which was also depicted in his book Strategiya stanovleniya i razvitiya Kazakhstana kak suverennogo gosudarstva [Strategy of establishment and development of Kazakhstan as a sovereign state] published in 1992. In support of the joint troops idea, Kazakhstan signed a majority of CIS documents while also delaying the formation and restructuring of the armed forces that remained on its territory. Nazarbayev hoped that even if CIS Armed Forces did not materialize, Kazakhstan would still be able to create joint forces with Russia by 1995. In contrast to Nazarbayev, Uzbek and Turkmen leaders Islam Karimov and Saparmurat Niyazov sought to nationalize military infrastructure on their territories along with creating a strong idea about their nations’ new identity as sovereign entities. Although cooperating with Russia in curbing civil conflict in Tajikistan, Uzbekistan was the only country in the region to also distance itself from Russia in the military sector. Already by 1995 all former Soviet military sites were either nationalized or dislocated to Russia and Tajikistan’s 201st Motor Rifle Divion that remained under Russian control. Uzbekistan thus reduced Russian military presence on its territory to the minimum, taking full control over its borders. A further challenge to the creation of CIS troops was restructuring its operational basis. Marshal Shaposhnikov tried to avoid the break down of the Soviet military operational system that presupposed a high degree of interconnection. Shaposhnikov proposed to subdivide republics according to military function to make each of them militarily self-sufficient yet tied to the central CIS command. But this plan was hardly feasible due to high costs.

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In late 1991 and throughout 1992 the CIS held numerous meetings with its members’ high-ranking officials. These meetings produced a plethora of interstate agreements, both holistic and particularistic in content. A bulk of these agreements were concerned with the status of armed forces, peaceful coexistence, and prospects for cooperation in the future. However, the potential efficiency of CIS agreements was inevitably undermined by the fact that its members joined strategic agreements selectively. For instance, Ukraine was not as compliant with Russia’s plans for redeployment of Soviet forces and installations compared to Belarus and Kazakhstan.7 Likewise, Turkmenistan and Georgia had resisted signing a majority of CIS agreements. Even agreements that were achieved during the early years of the CIS’s existence for the most part lacked specifics on where financing would originate. The Russian government experienced its own economic difficulties and was wary of taking too many of the central financing responsibilities. Already then, Russian officials were mooting the possibility of creating CIS Armed Forces that would be reminiscent of a NATO model. This prospect indeed attracted a certain degree of initiative into concluding inter-state agreements. However, most states realized that a NATO model would be more feasible after national militaries were established and national sovereignties assured. Following a sudden exposure to the international community, Central Asian ruling elites explored possibilities of acquiring greater independence in their domestic affairs. While actively participating in CIS activities, Central Asian leaders also mimicked Baltic and South Caucasus states and engaged in establishing national defense institutions. In the meantime, Russia sought to maximize its control over ex-Soviet military assets in successor states. Alas, the ethnic Russian population was concentrated in areas of major military infrastructure. In 1992 Russia withdrew over 2.8 million of its personnel across former Soviet states and satellites.8 Over 90 percent of all withdrawn personnel were from high ranks. Overall, 1992 was full of logistical difficulties that affected the recruitment process and industrial production cycle. Russia and Central Asian states were developing military legislation to hold onto a maximum amount of military capacity and a myriad of conflicting issues arose in the process. In May 1992 the CIS increased its military wing by forming a Collective Security Treaty (CST). The treaty aimed at establishing joint conventional military forces. The CST’s most active participants were composed of Russia, Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan. The continuity of Russia’s military influence in the region was evident for another decade when Russian border troops were widely present there. The CST’s main statute declared that an attack against one state was an attack against all. It meant that Russia would come forward if any CST member were attacked by external forces and that Russia would receive at least political support in its own military campaigns. But Russia lacked the necessary financial resources to maintain the CIS and CST. Both the CST and CIS lost their momentum as newly independent states proceeded to elaborate their national legislation for military forces. Likewise, states were busy defining the meaning and content of their new independence status by

Military institutions as part of state-building 59 developing constitutions and national laws. Having a national military partly signified sovereignty for these states. At the same time, neither Russia, nor other CIS states were able to contribute to the creation of joint conventional forces due to a rapid economic downturn and steep decreases in conscription rates. As Yeltsin moved to establish a Russian Ministry of Defense, the idea of CIS Armed Forces also came to a halt. All post-Soviet states began an active phase of national defense institution building. Yeltsin gave up the idea of CIS troops after 1993. The same year the CST’s joint command structure was dissolved only to be revived in the early 2000s following the US’s increased military presence in the Central Asian region. In the 1990s the CIS turned into an organization of bilateral links between states rather than an organization of multilateral cooperation. During Yeltsin’s reign, Russia generally sought to boost links with the West and the Central Asian states lost priority in Russia’s foreign policy. The Russian government maintained cooperation within the CIS by frequently bypassing Central Asian states that were often argued to lack economic potential. In 1993 Russian Foreign Minister Kozyrev claimed that Russia’s potential integration into the West would stall if the Kremlin continued to maintain close relations with Central Asian states. As member of the Yabloko party and MP Aleksey Arbatov noted in 1994, “Central Asia is the least important subregion for Russian interests across the entire former Soviet geopolitical space.”9 Among all political forces represented in the parliament at that time only the communists led by Gennady Zuganov were interested in restoring relations with all ex-Soviet states. Such treatment of Central Asia in Russia’s foreign policy discouraged CIS activities in the region throughout the 1990s. The Central Asian states began to come up with alternative, albeit ineffective, agreements on their own. Among the most notable was the Central Asian Cooperation Organization (CACO) and bilateral agreements on Eternal Friendships. Along with CACO, Uzbekistan joined GUAM (Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan, and Moldova), an alternative to the CIS structure. Most of these formations represented mere paper documents with minimal practical effect due to similar reasons as CIS and CST: lack of funding and priority to solidify primarily national institutions as opposed to transnational ones. But as the Kremlin’s interest in the region re-emerged under Vladimir Putin’s administration in the 2000s, CACO was integrated with the Eurasian Economic Community (EurAsEC) which was led by Russia. While Russia’s attention in Central Asia decreased, the Commission of Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) was expanding its membership beyond Europe and moving into the region. Both for the CSCE and Central Asian states this cooperation represented an intriguing development and seemingly moved Europe and Asia closer. The Kremlin’s reluctance to prioritize Central Asia in its foreign policy also predetermined its passive stance during the Tajik civil conflict. At the peak of the bloodshed in Tajikistan in 1993 and 1994, Central Asian states, and Uzbekistan in particular, urged countries like Iran, Pakistan, Turkey and Saudi Arabia to intervene.10 At that period Uzbekistan refrained from openly criticizing Russia for its policies in the region, while also playing the most active role in settling the conflict. One sector that Russia could not entirely ignore in Central Asia was the

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Kremlin’s control over the Baikonur space station located in Kazakhstan’s KyzylOrda oblast, occupying a total of 6,717 square kilometers with over 35,500 personnel. Russia was primarily interested in cohesive and predictable relations with Kazakhstan since the latter had a nuclear arsenal, the Baikonur space station, and a sizable Russian population. Russia was also interested in maintaining its border troops in areas formerly demarcating the Soviet Union and China, Afghanistan and Iran. By then it was clear that Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan were the two weakest states in the region that were potentially unable to form their own militaries. Both were on the verge of falling under Russia’s military and, therefore, political protectorate.

The significance of the Soviet legacy The process of constructing military institutions is representative of the evolution of other state institutions that, on the one hand, inherited Soviet structures and, on the other, failed to function efficiently after independence. Central Asian national militaries were logistically not ready to face the new threats that emerged in the post–Cold War era, such as violent opposition groups, civilian clashes at border areas and the mobilization of organized criminal networks. Soviet military planning in the Turkestan military district predetermined the Central Asian states’ military capabilities. Like all former Soviet states, the Central Asian states inherited a tradition of labor-intensive armies with obligatory conscription and a myriad of difficulties in organizing adequate living and service facilities for the draftees. In the conditions of decreased central finance and high inflation rates during the early independence period, the army was among the state institutions that faced the most significant constraints in continuing proper functioning. The bulk of the defense expenditure in the early 1990s was directed at maintaining manpower as opposed to incorporating military procurement and changes in the army structure. Increased budgetary spending for military maintenance was sought at the expense of other sectors of public finance such as education and health care, which lead the latter to become dependent on external financial assistance. The percentage of annual governmental spending directed at defense expenditure was often not disclosed to the public, especially in Uzbekistan and Tajikistan where military expenditure was the highest, not only in the region but also on the post-Soviet territory. It was possible to differentiate two types of military units that remained from the Soviet regime. The first were military assets accumulated during the Soviet period and obtained by Moscow, but placed under the jurisdiction of newly independent states in the early 1990s. Generally, these were small- and medium-sized physical commodities such as military ammunition, uniforms, landmines, aircraft and helicopters. The second type of legacy represented military personnel dispatched from other parts of the Soviet Union and stationed at large military complexes and state borders, and military systems that had functioned under the combined efforts of several Soviet states and had passed either to joint bilateral or Russian command. Russia retained its full and partial control over such military assets in Kazakhstan and Tajikistan. In the first decade after gaining independence Russia kept its border

Military institutions as part of state-building 61 guard contingent at Kazakh–Chinese, Kyrgyz–Chinese and Tajik–Afghan frontiers. While Russia gradually withdrew its border guards, regional security organizations were advancing. Neither Central Asian governments, nor the Kremlin were interested in completely removing Russian guards from former Soviet borders in the 1990s but the nationalization of the other military units presupposed the removal of foreign contingents entirely. The processes of military reorganization by the newly formed governments were different as well. One of the primary differences in the Central Asian states’ policies was Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan’s decisions to enlarge their military contingents. By contrast, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan were downsizing their military personnel. The situation in the 1990s in the Central Asian armies was similar to other post-Soviet states: overloaded by senior officers on the one hand and unprofessional soldiers on the other, who were destined to pay “poverty taxes” by joining the military. The public stature of the army deteriorated and only conscripts from the poorest strata of societies, often from rural areas, who were not able to pay for their higher education, were drafted into the military. A drain of Russian military experts at the end of the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s created a shortage of professional cadres. During the Soviet period Russians occupied most of the key positions in the military. Thus, post-Soviet armies turned into institutions that required a vigilant control because unprofessional cadres who lacked proper military training and experience quickly seized vacant positions. Only units where Soviet experts remained active continued their routine functioning.11 As Russian and Ukrainian military personnel emigrated from the Central Asian states, indigenous soldiers became officers, and officers became commanders, in months.12 Poor professionalism in the officer corps led to greater hazing and blended with inter-ethnic and intra-ethnic regional divisions among regular conscripts. As the military became mostly a representation of the titular ethnicity its professional code implicitly or explicitly repressed other ethnic or social structures. Recruits from ethnic minority groups were treated in a different manner, usually with less trust. Furthermore, the army inherited the Soviet informal hierarchy among recruits. The combat christening elevates new recruits from dukh (spirit), an inferior status, to ded (elder), a superior status, in few months, usually from 4 to 6 up to a year. Some recruits were never able to overcome the “christening” and remained in the informal inferior position, becoming victims for constant brutal physical and verbal punishment by deds. Not only is physical strength important for the informal status but also recruits’ talent and skill to converse on subjects of honor, dignity, and fairness in the army. Mental strength is crucial too, to be able to face strong peer pressure and bullying by the elders.

Civil–military relations Since the early 1990s, the armed forces in all five Central Asian states have been under the predominant control of the Ministries of Defense and Ministries of Interior. Positions of Defense Ministers are usually occupied by experts with military backgrounds. There were some seeming attempts to civilianize control over

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the military by involving civilian experts into Security Councils. In security documents of all the Central Asian states it is affirmed that fostering civilian control of the armed forces is a national priority, but only Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have accomplished some adequate results. The Kyrgyz parliament adopted a law “On civil–military relations” in December 2006, but it required substantial revisions and incentives for its enforcement. Most of the time the Defense Ministers retain greater influence over approval, implementation, and control of national security policies and the role of the parliament in security policy varies from state to state. The parliaments’ participation in the security agenda is reduced to discussing basic problems of the military personnel and issues of the defense budget remain beyond parliamentary control. In 2000 Uzbekistan was the only post-Soviet state to approve a civilian expert for the position of Defense Minister. Appointing Kadyr Guliamov, a former academician, signified the Uzbek government’s intention to improve civilian control over the country’s vast armed forces. However, the high degree of centralization of Karimov’s government and parliament without opposition cast doubts about whether such a shift purported any structural differences in implementation of the national security policy. Furthermore, in the 2000s there was a tendency to recruit regional leaders (hokims) as cadres with military ranks.13 Several acting policemen were appointed in Syrdarya oblast in the positions of heads of village communities.14 Militarization of regional cadres allowed the government to obtain a firmer control of the population at the provincial level by curtailing the distance between the central command and regional police. The region’s other highly authoritarian government – Turkmenistan retained a civilian expert in the position of Defense Minister until September 2003. Former Defense Minister, Redzhepbai Arazov, had a civilian background and was replaced by Major-General Agageldy Mamedgeldyjev who had been the head of the Turkmen border guard service. Similar to Uzbekistan, the seeming record of civilianization of security structures is rather a reflection of an internal power struggle than a wish to civilianize control over the military. In Tajikistan in the beginning of 2004, in line with President Emomali Rakhmon’s decree, the President’s Guard was transformed into a national military institution. In reality, however, this change did not bring significant structural reorganization. The Defense Minister, General-Colonel Sherali Khairulloyev held his position for more than a decade. The Tajik parliament rarely obtained access to reports on military finance or administration from force ministries and the number of representatives from the opposition Islamic Renaissance Party (IRP) was insignificant. Annual military spending was determined without parliamentary consideration. Most data on military planning, training and procurement is considered secret in Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. In the run-up to OSCE chairmanship in 2010, Kazakhstan appointed Danial Akhmetov its first Defense Minister with a civil background. Akhmetov was symbolic of Kazakhstan’s willingness to continue integration with Western countries and, importantly, with NATO. A former Prime Minister, Akhmetov had great influence in all government institutions in Kazakhstan. From the outset, Akhmetov was an assertive minister with a new military doctrine adopted two months after

Military institutions as part of state-building 63 attaining office. He further introduced a number of new reforms in the social aspects of the military personnel’s lives.

The formation of Central Asian states’ military and security strategies During the period 1991 to 1993 Central Asian leaders remained passive in developing a legislative base for the military and security sector. It seemed as if Central Asian political elites were still expecting the CIS and CST to form some sort of supra-national control over the armed forces on their territories. Such passivity on the part of state officials was accompanied by a restless sell-out of military technologies and armaments by state and non-state actors. However, as state leaders began consolidating and centralizing the powers towards the mid 1990s, the military sector was seen as a competing power that might exude loyalty other than to the ruling regime. In the mid 1990s Central Asian presidents began active endorsement of military legislation that would secure their control over the armed forces. To be sure, the presidents produced legislation on “National Guards” and “President’s Guards” that defined their role as primarily the defence of the ruling regime. Another trend of that period was legislation on armed personnel, recruitment strategies, honors, service conditions, etc. Despite active nationalization processes, the military elite played a marginal role in the state and nation-building processes after independence. Unlike political leaders who adapted to independence relatively quickly, military officials lacked the skills and understanding of acting on a national level without the Soviet command. Central Asian state leaders surrounded by a limited circle of supporters were the main architects of the idea of the new nationhood and stateness. Only in Kazakhstan did the first Minister of Defense exert influence over the way military institutions should function.15 Some intense competition between the National Security Committee and Ministry of Interior was always present, in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. Both institutions deal with intelligence and law enforcement, but follow different sets of legislation. At different instances both accused one another of poor professionalism or corruption. This competition and distrust between the National Security Service (NSS) and Ministry of Interior reverberates over the control of the Border Guard that needs collaboration with both institutions, but strives for greater autonomy as well. Throughout independence the security policies of the Central Asian states included two leading documents, the military doctrine and the security concept. The Central Asian states followed the logic of development of Russian documents from the beginning of the independence period, although the Russian military and security legislation encompassed a broader spectrum of security documents such as the naval doctrine and military reform plans.16 For instance, since gaining independence all states endorsed at least two (three in Russia) contextually and conceptually different security policies. In the independence period, the new national military doctrines were developed by military officials with Soviet academic and professional backgrounds. Often

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labeled as “Soviet-style thinkers,” older senior officers regarded the security policy building after the collapse of the regime as a need to sustain stability in the conditions of the constant nuclear threat of the Cold War era.17 The conservatism of such “thinking” among the generation of Soviet military experts hindered flexible adaptation of the security policy and structures reflecting the new political reality. As a result, security documents in the Central Asian governments endorsed in the early 1990s reflected the Soviet policy views on offensive and defensive activities as if the region was still part of the larger union of states. The prestige of the military service dramatically diminished after the disintegration of the Soviet regime. Besides World War II veterans whose number was rapidly decreasing, Soviet-educated officers and commanders lost their state benefits and social status. The military sector experienced considerable financial crises. But more important was that neither post-Soviet political elites, nor military elites themselves could grasp the magnitude and the possible repercussions of the collapse of the Soviet regime. Soviet symbols, the oath, medals, service uniform, military experience and strategy – all defined the military’s loyalty to the monolithic communist party. Despite the crises in financing the military, its vanished prestige, and uncertain status in the new political reality, the Central Asian states continued to advocate universal conscription. This reproduction of Soviet military tradition led to even greater despair within the military and demoralization of military institutions. The Central Asian states were quickly turning into entities with strong centralized presidential power. Often the challenge rather stemmed from inside the government with informal anti-regime fractions forming in public structures than traditional threats posed by rival states. In such cases ruling elites faced a challenge from state institutions or concrete individuals with power bases. At various times opposition groups in Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan formed military or para-military structures independent from the state. These structures either built links with similar structures across national borders or mobilized their own forces. For instance, Kyrgyzstan’s political opposition is known to rely on the physical power of former and active martial arts sportsmen. Tajikistan’s UTO armed its troops with the external help of Iran and Afghanistan. In Uzbekistan the militant wing of the IMU represented a fusion of ideological leaders in close collaboration with field commanders. With that, non-state actors in Central Asia do not seem to mobilize their military capabilities anywhere near the level of those in the Middle Eastern or African states. Instead they infiltrated the state in Kyrgyzstan in order to continue pursuing their political or economic goals or they subdued their political ambitions, like the Islamic opposition in Tajikistan. In Uzbekistan, however, insurgent groups were forced to function underground.

Kazakhstan Kazakhstan received special attention from the international community and the George H.W. Bush administration due to its nuclear sites. Kazakhstan inherited a considerable nuclear arsenal amounting to about 1,400 nuclear warheads, 104 SS-18

Military institutions as part of state-building 65 Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles (ICBMs), and 40 Tu-9 Bear long range bombers.18 The country’s leadership promptly joined the Nuclear NonProliferation Treaty (NPT) and demolished its entire nuclear arsenal by 1995. Kazakhstan’s security policy documents reflected the country’s uncertainty over the realities of the post–Cold War era and perceptions of a potential nuclear attack on its territory. Kazakhstan’s disarmament policy was thus driven by the general international uncertainty and the possibility of rivalry with other states that possessed a greater nuclear arsenal. The NPT allowed Nazarbayev to fully meet the requirements of the Western community in the first years of independence and thus secure economic support and political recognition over the long term. In the early 1990s Kazakhstan, like all other post-Soviet countries possessing a nuclear arsenal, lacked the necessary financial resources to support the nuclear sector.19 The West provided technical assistance for Kazakhstan’s disarmament, while international non-proliferation norms which had gained considerable weight in the first few years after the end of Cold War, served as a strong impetus. Almost two decades into independence, Kazakhstan still experienced repercussions of the Soviet nuclear legacy. The country contains uranium waste that harms the local environment and population. Furthermore, populations living in areas where former nuclear arsenals were stored suffered from chronic diseases and high mortality rates. Along with its own nuclear waste, the Kazakh government came up with an initiative of storing more waste from European countries, earning a high degree of trust among the western community. The government argued that since Kazakhstan was geographically the ninth largest state in the world with a population of only 16 million, it could allow imported nuclear waste without social costs. At the same time funds earned from the initiative would further help the country deal with its nuclear legacy.20 During Kazakhstan’s efforts to pursue the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty and the NPT, the status of its other military units remained ambiguous. The Armed Forces of Kazakhstan are managed through six layers of control agencies. The central executive agency is represented by the Executive Officers Committee within the Ministry of Defense that officially stands above the Supreme Command of the entire Kazakh Armed Forces. Both executive structures are followed by a four-leveled regional command. In peacetime the Armed Forces of Kazakhstan consist of military control agencies, the Armed Forces, special troops, a logistics division, military-educational and scientific complexes. In wartime, the Armed Forces mobilize the Internal Troops of the Ministry of Interior, Border Guard and other troops of the National Security Committee, Republic Guard, and agencies for controlling and administering civilian and territorial defense.21 The Kazakh military, containing the region’s strongest capacity, encompasses a large amount and great diversity of units. There are four military districts on the territory of Kazakhstan: “West” based in Aktobe, “East” in Semipalatinsk, “South” in Taraz, and “Astana” in Astana, the Kazakh capital. According to the President, the primary goal of the Kazakh Ministry of Defense was to reorganize the National Armed Forces into three categories of structures and two types of troops.22 The country’s armed forces were restructured into Ground Forces, Air Defense Forces

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and Naval Forces, and separated into Missile and Artillery Arms divisions. Kazakhstan felt shortages of cadres especially severely in the early 1990s. The Kazakh government sought to maintain and increase ties with Russian military colleges to train their national cadres. In the 2000s Kazakhstan’s military districts were rearranged into regional commands, which potentially would be capable of enhancing operational-strategic problem-solving at a district level. The complete national system of military education is being transformed into specialized vocational training schools, which would prepare cadres in fields according to specific categories of security structures. The Kazakh government sends several hundreds of students to military schools in Russia, US, European and CIS states annually.23 Since gaining independence and until 2008, Kazakhstan endorsed three military doctrines. The first doctrine was written in a period of two years and adopted in April 1993. Since Kazakhstan was a part of the Soviet nuclear complex, the principal distinction of the first doctrine was the country’s post-Soviet security approach viewing its geopolitical role as being an indispensable actor in the bipolar nuclear struggle. At the same time, besides bearing the Soviet threat perception during the independence period, the country was facing a task of forming an army that would be able to function under the national control. According to the 1993 doctrine, the Kazakh armed forces were aimed at restructuring, a process believed to lead to the establishment of a fully professional army by 2000. Such goals meant high military expenditure and needed professional expertise. The economic situation and low status of military science in the country in the beginning of the 1990s made these doctrinal tasks impossible to achieve. A considerably greater success was achieved in the 2000s, commensurate to rapid economic growth in the country, but not as close as the 1993 doctrine had set it. Kazakhstan’s first military doctrine did not provide any precise definitions of threats to the national security, neither did it describe the types of military actions in which the country may be politically or militarily involved. The doctrine also had to confront criticism from local analysts. In 1994 Kazakhstan’s Institute for Strategic Studies called the doctrine as “being based on outmoded Soviet percepts” that does not fit the reality of the present day. The institute’s experts suggested that instead of focusing on military actions with another state, the national security structures should be constructed to fight smaller scale conflicts at the border, in particular with China. Although the Ministry of Defense took the institute’s recommendations into account, it did not implement any solid changes into the doctrine until 2000. The second Kazakh military doctrine was adopted in 2000. Unlike the earlier version of the doctrine, the new document was developed in the context of the country’s general economic recovery in the late 1990s. Kazakhstan’s annual GDP grew by 9.6 percent in 2000, the country’s external debt was paid back during this period, and security structures were able to rely more heavily on domestic financing and move away from Russian dependence. Military scientific institutions saw a new impulse, already in 2001 the Kazakh government issued a decree on creating a Higher Naval School to protect oil platforms on the Caspian Sea.24 According to

Military institutions as part of state-building 67 Kazakhstan’s second military doctrine, the main goal and rationale for formation of the national Armed Forces and other military structures in Kazakhstan lies in the provision of defensive mechanisms against external aggression and military threat from another state. It was developed on the basis of the previous doctrine, but with more realistic goals. One of the salient differences between the doctrines of 1993 and 2000 lay in the fact that the second military doctrine provided detailed definition of threats and response mechanisms in case national stability was challenged. It rigorously differentiated between various degrees of possible instabilities on the local, regional and global levels. The doctrine recognized a new type of challenges emerging at the regional level, which could potentially provoke domestic insurgencies against both the local civilian population as well as the ruling regime. The 2000 military doctrine categorized three types of conflict intensiveness in which the state saw its potential involvement. The first two doctrines’ definition of conflict remained rather vague and depicted the Soviet perception of the causes of war. The first type was described as a conflict on a global scale, which involved the world’s military and economic superpowers. The rationale for Kazakhstan’s participation in resolution and prevention of such conflicts was explained by the threat of the use of nuclear weapons on a global scale. Although there was a reference to the understanding of a little probability of eruption of the first type of conflicts in the foreseen future, Kazakhstan’s deployment of peacekeeping troops to Iraq in 2004 fell under the general national security strategy. The second type of conflict was identified as interstate tensions between militarily and economically developing states and their possession and use of modern war technologies. The possible regional imbalance of military power was distinguished as another source of instability on an interstate level. The 2000 doctrine posited that in case any neighboring state was accumulating “excessive military capacity and capability” this would be regarded as a threat to the national security of Kazakhstan. The doctrine did not exclude the possibility of domestic armed conflicts. However, such conflicts were assumed to be inspired by external forces and directed against the government of Kazakhstan. Here, the Kazakh constitution served as the legal basis for alleviation of domestic tensions and deployment of armed forces in case internal conflicts destabilize internal public order in the country. Arms transfers and access to armaments by illegal formations on the territory of Asian states was considered to be both Kazakhstan’s external and internal problem. Dissemination of religious extremism was defined as an external problem fundamental to the national security of Kazakhstan, which in case of a spillover into the country’s territory was expected to target primarily state institutions and state property. The doctrine’s third category of conflict was defined as a low-intensity conflict, which could occur within the territory of one state or between various social groups at an interstate border. This category did not include intergovernmental disputes. Rather, terrorist attacks or any armed actions by illegal movements were regarded as conflicts of low intensity for Kazakhstan. According to the doctrine, the national armed forces and other military formations of the country had to be maintained in

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constant combat readiness for localization of low intensity conflicts: “The goal of the Republic of Kazakhstan in case of a low intensity conflict is to prevent the tensions from escalating into greater security problems with minimal costs for the state.”25 Conflicts at border areas were categorized as being of low intensity and were handled by the Border Committee (Prigranichnyi komitet) of the National Security Committee (Komitet nacional’noi bezopasnosti) through collaboration with other divisions of the national Armed Forces. The doctrine mentioned that as a document representing an integral part of the national security strategy, it was subject to changes and further refinement contingent on the regional and global security situation. It also stated that the military doctrine adopted a firmly defensive character. January 2007 marked a turning point in Kazakhstan’s pursuit of military reforms when President Nazarbayev appointed Danial Akhmetov, a former Prime Minister with a civilian background, as Defense Minister. Akhmetov was a strong and loyal authority in his government, he also proved to be efficient in picking up reforms in the military. Akhmetov launched a number of significant reforms in the military. In March 2007, roughly two months after Akhmetov’s appointment, Kazakhstan adopted its third military doctrine. Unlike the first and second versions, the 2007 document was more ambitious, focusing primarily on strengthening international cooperation in military areas. The doctrine emphasized its multi-vectored cooperation goals, balancing between cooperation with the CSTO and the SCO. The 2007 document was endorsed against the background of Nazarbayev’s ambitions to gain the chairmanship position at the OSCE and continue training national military forces in the framework of the PfP’s Peace Support Operations, where Kazakhstan achieved concrete success in the 2000s. Most Russian military analysts argued the doctrine had an obvious tilt towards the west. Because the doctrine refrained from prioritizing a particular partner, Russian mass media rushed to judgment, suspecting that Kazakhstan wished to cement relations with Western powers. But their Kazakhstan counterparts regarded the doctrine to be an optimal example of a balanced policy. The doctrine mentioned the overall indispensable strategic role of the CSTO and China for Kazakhstan’s security and was more specific about cooperative ties with the EU and US It clearly identified areas of cooperation with the US such as technological cooperation. Kazakhstan’s second military doctrine presumed that national security strategy was contingent on regional developments. The main difference of threat identification in Kazakhstan and other Central Asian republics lay in the fact that the former was oriented at a broader scope of security developments, at global processes in greater Asia. This meant that Kazakhstan’s participation in a broader Asian security agenda was in legal terms equally plausible as in Central Asian regional security arrangements. Kazakhstan’s economic development and, more importantly, military capacity also enabled the country to sustain multilateralism on various levels. The 2007 military doctrine was also endorsed at the time when Nazarbayev began an active promotion of his Central Asia Union which signaled Kazakhstan’s rapidly growing leadership ambitions in the region. The doctrine indicated that

Military institutions as part of state-building 69 Kazakhstan had achieved substantive progress and would continue increasing the pace of reforms, investment and international cooperation in the military sector. In 2007 military procurement considerably increased, matching the doctrine’s goals. At the time the 2007 doctrine was enforced, the OSCE still refrained from confirming Kazakhstan’s chairmanship. The rhetoric of the doctrine therefore depicted part of a bigger picture, the Kazakh government’s striving to ultimately obtain a definitive positive answer on its chairmanship. These efforts included increasing cooperation in the military and security sector with EU member states. Similarly, negotiations with the OSCE members proceeded with Kazakh officials’ attention focused on increasing security cooperation ties with the EU.26 The 2007 doctrine recognized the changing dynamics of domestic and regional security and the rising importance of the SCO and CSTO. The doctrine’s threat identification reflected Kazakhstan’s attempt to preserve a balanced approach towards its regional neighbors and Western partners.27 While external threats were mainly identified in broader terms, categorization of domestic threats coincides with threat perceptions of the SCO and the CSTO. Namely, the doctrine pointed to the possibility of emerging extremist, nationalist, religious, separatist and terrorist movements, organizations and structures that might challenge national stability. As for external threats, the doctrine identified armed conflicts unraveling close to national borders, the development of weapons of mass destruction, the activity of radical movements and intensification of religious radicalism in neighboring states. The doctrine emphasized that Kazakhstan regarded its military security in the context of its democratization reform and peaceful coexistence on the international arena. This balanced approach assured a more solid ground for the doctrine’s own continuity. In addition to presenting a multi-vectored policy, the doctrine emphasized the importance of bilateral cooperation in the military sector with Russia, China, its Central Asian neighbors, and the US and EU members. The differences between all three Kazakh doctrines are striking. Within a 16-year span between the first and third doctrines Kazakhstan managed to move away from Soviet perceptions and identify its peculiar national course of action taking into consideration domestic and regional developments. Whereas Kazakhstan’s doctrines of 1993 and 2000 were inclined to use vague language in identifying threats and goals in the military sector, the 2007 version adopted more concrete formulations. In particular these were definitions of military procurement, reform, recruitment, training and education. Kazakhstan’s Sergeant Corps was gradually transformed to a contract-based service. This change took place before Russia declared similar plans to be implemented only in 2012. In the Central Asian regional perspective Kazakhstan quickly became a leading innovator inside the military sector. The existing and potential gap between Kazakhstan’s military and those of its regional neighbors widened significantly after the 2007 doctrine was endorsed. Though not all the goals of these doctrines were achieved, fast economic growth contributed to substantial progress in the procurement and training of Kazakhstan’s armed forces. Amid far-reaching ambitions and ample resources provided for military institutions, Kazakhstan’s major problem remained, however, the lack of professional cadres and military training

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facilities. While the number of potential recruits exceeds the available places in the contract-based service, Kazakhstan is yet to develop better educational infrastructure. Finally, the 2007 doctrine set ambitious plans of continued reforms in the national armed forces to meet international standards and become a regional leader in setting the political, economic and security agenda. Throughout its independence Kazakhstan sought to emphasize its geopolitical significance in Eurasia, which was due to its territorial size, borders with Russia and China and vast potential in developing its military.

Kyrgyzstan In the 1990s Kyrgyzstan quickly earned an image of being the most liberal state in Central Asia. Former Kyrgyz President Askar Akayev promoted the politics of democratization, economic liberalization, enhancement of human rights and institutionalization of citizenship. Most of these ideals were distant for neighboring Central Asian states. But unlike its neighbors Kyrgyzstan also lacked natural resources and the infrastructure to sustain a viable economy. The state budget was in a continuous deficit, while its external debt grew by the year. Kyrgyzstan’s political liberalism unfolded despite economic weakness and was unchallenged by any significant tensions that would require an armed response. In 1997 Akayev made a proposal to substantially decrease the number of army personnel because the country, according to his position, was not facing significant security threats requiring a military response. The proposal suggested retaining only the National Guard for symbolic purposes.28 However, the clash between Kyrgyz troops and IMU guerillas in Batken in 1999 and 2000 completely changed the perception of the army’s role in national security. After the conflict, the Kyrgyz government set out a number of significant reforms in the military.29 The unexpected armed clash in Batken propelled the Kyrgyz Security Council to revise its military and security planning and policymaking. After Batken the Ministry of Defense and Security Council were criticized by the local mass media and NGOs for inefficient military planning and control. As a reaction to public pressure, the Security Council endorsed a fairly ambitious document which aimed to fundamentally reform the army. After two years of drafting the doctrine, the first Kyrgyz military doctrine was endorsed in May 2002 covering the period until 2010. The doctrine identified two types of conflicts: “just” and “unjust.”30 The difference between the two types was based on the general legal norms portrayed in the UN statues, according to which armed aggression of one state against another was classified as an “unjust” conflict while the “just” one was an act of armed defense. Kyrgyz and Kazakh military doctrines categorized intensities of conflicts in the same manner: localized, regional and international. Before the 2002 doctrine, the activity of the Kyrgyz Ministry of Defense was coordinated by the National Security Strategy document that represented an inertial reflection of Soviet threat identification, military planning and procurement. The doctrine was adopted as a reaction to a general realization of the need for better military management in the future. However, it turned out to be another paper

Military institutions as part of state-building 71 document that only partially defined the rationale for the existence of armed forces, military planning and procurement in Kyrgyzstan. Most reforms and decision making were executed ad hoc, largely depending on the structure of the Security Council. In 2008 the parliament began revising a draft of a second military doctrine. Kyrgyzstan’s 2002 doctrine purported two main reforms in the security structures and was designed to be implemented in several stages. The principal change targeted by the doctrine was restructuring the army into small and mobile forces forming a capital-intensive, professionally trained and well-equipped army. Another change was converting the army into contract-based conscription to be acomplished within the following decade. The Kyrgyz doctrine saw additional surplus available in the course of military spending, enhanced administration of military units, and better control of state budget spending. According to the doctrinal statements, anticipated increase of military spending in the next years could be met by the government in addition to its intentions to enhance the scientific and engineering foundation of the military industry. The government was also entitled to encourage private manufacturers to produce goods for the armed forces. External financial support was sought from bilateral and multilateral cooperation. CSTO and NATO’s PfP program are the foreground auspices of favored military collaboration. Armed conflicts at the national border were anticipated to involve parts of the indigenous civilian population and a readiness for interstate conflicts had been developed in case border-clashes take this turn of events. Thus, the doctrine postulated that a conflict identified as local could escalate into a regional struggle between states. Kyrgyzstan’s main military formations include organizing a separate unit of Rapid Reaction Forces, Immediate Reaction Forces, and Border Guard Forces. According to the 2002 military doctrine, all of these forces are aimed at mobile reaction to conflicts at frontier zones and regional conflicts. Former National Guard Commander, Colonel General Abdykul Chotbayev, claimed that the military doctrine’s reforms were carried out successfully despite that the fact the Kyrgyz armed forces experience a plethora of financial and logistical problems.31 However, no analogous assessment of the military reform is reported by other sources. The local media largely criticized the reform for being unrealistic in the conditions of a deteriorating economy. Chotbayev’s views were especially challenged by his successor Lieutenant General Ismail Isakov. A major part of the national armed forces of Kyrgyzstan was constructed with a reference to external instabilities that were capable of provoking internal tensions. There were two motor rifle divisions in Kyrgyzstan. Both were established in 1998 in mountainous regions. Similar to Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan was bound to seek external sources of military finance or use off-budgeted expenditures. Besides support from the international community, Kyrgyzstan relied on exports from some armament and military-equipment manufacturers that remained in the country after the Soviet Army’s dissolution. For the US-led “Enduring Freedom” military operation in Afghanistan, the Kyrgyz government agreed to provide the Coalition troops the territory of the Manas National Airport. The number of troops varied over time but the main contingent consisted of US and NATO troops.

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The regime change in March 2005 influenced the internal dynamics in the Security Council and the Ministry of Defense. The new president Kurmanbek Bakiyev quickly lost his popularity among the masses. He turned out to be reluctant to bring in any substantial changes in the public sector and the military was not an exception. Appointing Ismail Isakov Defense Minister in 2006, however, brought substantial success in augmenting the internal morale of the military. Isakov actively implemented better incentives for service and recruitment. He put special emphasis on military personnel’s social issues, seeking to enhance their living conditions. Numerous public events were organized under Isakov’s leadership to encourage civilians to reflect on the national armed forces’ activities. Isakov’s success demonstrated how the enhancement of public institutions in the context of a decentralized Kyrgyz government is contingent on initiatives by individual agents. As Bakiyev’s regime kept losing popularity in 2007 and 2008, however, the President began reshuffling security personnel, appointing his brother as a chief commander of the NSS. Isakov, in turn, was promoted to head the National Security Council. Bakiyev was not able to completely remove authoritative military officials such as Isakov and Major General Kubanychbek Oruzbayev who enjoyed popularity among national army servants, but preferred to place them to other high-ranking positions in the government. Both officials, however, resigned in October 2008 accusing Bakiyev of corruption and limiting their professional freedom. As opposition movements began consolidating in early 2008, Bakiyev increased the gross salary to Interior Ministry personnel, solidifying support among internal armed troops.

Tajikistan Among all Central Asian states, Tajikistan’s identification of the role of its military in national security was most complicated. Tajikistan’s civil war between government troops and the United Tajik Opposition (UTO) forces in the period 1992 to 1997 hampered the formation of a central state while Tajikistan’s army is in relative terms larger than those possessed by its regional neighbors (measured as proportion of conscripts compared to the local population). This was due to a significant increase in conscription to the Popular Front during the years of civil war. Data from international organizations indicated that in the first few years after the end of the civil war state expenditure on the military comprised about 4 percent of the annual GDP. However, some local experts estimated that during the post-war integration processes the government was spending up to one third of total state revenue on military maintenance.32 The formation of the Tajik army since independence can be divided into several phases. The time during 1993 to 1994 was a period of rapid registration of newly emerged armed formations within the Ministry of Defense. Availability of armaments at that time symbolized an exclusive status and accessibility to carbines represented an authority and ability to control the civilian population in public places on behalf of the government. It also pointed at the state’s deficient ability to control illegal possession of armaments on its territory. The first specialized battalions

Military institutions as part of state-building 73 were created among former civilians, who were armed during the beginning of the Tajik war. This was the primary attempt to integrate armed formations into government troops. At that point it was difficult to determine the precise quantity of active soldiers as there was a high degree of fluctuation of registered personnel. The fundamental legislative base was established and a number of “umbrella” laws “On armed forces,” “On universal service,” “On defense” and “On rights and guarantees of military personnel and members of their families” were adopted. In 1994 military training complexes were organized and registered personnel received training according to their general education level. In the period 1994 to 1997, the registration was completed and the Tajik government was able to take the first steps in military planning also thanks to the signing of the Peace Agreement concluded in June 1997. Three types of military structures were formed on the basis of existing personnel: land forces, air forces and anti-raid forces. The troops were relocated to the country’s strategic places. Simultaneously, the legal base concerning the service of the military of higher army ranks continued to develop. In 1994 Emomali Rakhmon was elected President and he became the Commander-in-Chief of the national military. Although new legislation was introduced during the period after 1998 until present and institutionalization of the military continued, control over the military forces became more centralized in the hands of the executive power. In May 2006 Tajikistan was the last Central Asian state to adopt a military doctrine. Compared to its neighboring states, the Tajik government experienced a different set of problems during post-Soviet military reconfiguration. As the Peace Accord was reached, the country faced problems of creating a legal base for military planning and control, a practice surmounted by Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Uzbekistan several years earlier. The first reason for a deferred endorsement of a military doctrine was the fact that at the time of independence the Tajik state did not retain its own national army. The bulk of the post-Soviet military formations became the property of the 201st Motor Rifle division stationed in the country and administered by Russia. In contrast to the neighboring states that received remains of the Soviet Turkestan Military District, the first Tajik army was constructed from guerilla bands from Kuliyab and Leninabad (renamed Sogd in 2000) regions.33 Unlike Sogd, the northern part of the country with a traditionally dominant political elite, Kuliyab is a southern region that remained underrepresented during the Soviet times. Although the opposition movements were unified on the basis of regional identities, the civil war erupted for the struggle of state order ideology between old communist elites and the new moderate Islamic leaders.34 Second, the civil war left the country with oversized military structures rich in war experience and subject to the government’s and the opposition’s control. Most of the soldiers were accepted from a civilian population that lacked complete university or school degrees. At the time the peace agreement was reached, many former soldiers encountered difficulties with finding employment due to insufficient training and high rates of unemployment in the country. In the late 1990s the Tajik government confronted a dilemma of demobilizing military personnel by

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providing them with civilian employment on the one hand, and integrating opposition troops into the national army on the other. After the end of the civil war, some former war commanders were barred from political processes and continued their association with underground networks of Islamic radicals.35 In the late 1990s security structures were under partial or full control by the opposition party in Karategin, Gorno-Badahshan, and Pamir regions. The exact number of armed formations in the state’s poorly administered districts is hard to identify. Reports on intensification of the activity of Islamic rebels in the southern part of the country became more frequent in the late 1990s. In the Batken conflict in 1999 and 2000 the Tajik government was accused of inability to control activities by criminal groups on its territory. Starting from the early 2000s, the Tajik Ministry of Defense controls a majority of the country’s armed forced and is thus the most influential security structure under the Presidential control. Other “force ministries” include Ministry of Interior, Border Guard Committee, Ministry of Security, and ministerial units. The Ministry of Emergencies was established in 1999 to accommodate General Mayor Mirzo Ziyeev, commander of the UTO troops. Formally, the ministry had the capacity to influence state security politics, however, integration of the opposition and government troops resulted in centralization of control over the military in the hands of the president.36 Meanwhile, Colonel General Sherali Khairulloyev remained Minister of Defense since 1995. The Russian 201st MRD increased its involvement in the Tajik war only in the mid 1990s. Russia’s greater involvement in the Tajik civil war resulted from the expansion of the Taliban regime in neighboring Afghanistan and growing flows of drugs through the territory of Tajikistan. For three years after the end of the civil war, President Rakhmon continued to be challenged by powerful field commanders acting in the northeast of the country. Among them were those who formerly belonged to the Popular Front and either had access to weapons, armed forces and/or financial resources. President Rakhmon also realized that the IRP enjoyed quiet support from among tens of thousands in the country and was able to have a strong voice in politics. Members of the IRP held sway over contingents in the armed forces and government. However, in the early 2000s Rakhmon began a gradual elimination of field commanders and a suppression of opposition forces, among whom was Ziyeev who was removed from his ministerial position. As Rakhmon continued to centralize his control over state structures and armed forces, he also preferred to see Russian troops leave Tajik territory and introduced border control comprised of only Tajik servicemen. Russian border troops were completely replaced by the Tajik military in 2006. The process of adopting a military doctrine was also slow due to the failure of military and political experts to identify what type and size of army Tajikistan needs in order to sustain national security. In the government’s official statements, the number of the military in the country ranges between 20,000 and 22,000 troops. In 2008 the number of internal troops exceeded armed forces under the Ministry of Defense – being roughly 40,000 against 18,000, respectively. However, according

Military institutions as part of state-building 75 to the Tajik Deputy Defense Minister, with a civilian background, the real number of Tajik troops in the late 1990s reached 100,000 people, including mobile troops and police. For a 7,000,000 population, with about 600,000 labor migrants residing abroad, this number was significant. Centralized control, oversized military, and high reliance on external resources complicated the formation of mid- and longterm security strategies for maintenance of internal stability with the help of the military. Only after shrinking the military and acquiring centralized control over all power institutions by removing members of UTO did Tajik President Emomali Rakhmon endorse a military doctrine as an official state document. The doctrine included general statements about the possibility of armed confrontations in Tajikistan and the wider region caused by extremist groups and organized crime. It mainly relies on cooperation with the CSTO and rarely with SCO. Among international organizations the doctrine refers only to UN standards of peacekeeping activities and military planning.

Turkmenistan Given that available firsthand information on Turkmenistan’s domestic and foreign policies is limited, the current section covers this case only briefly. Only very few legislative acts are accessible through public venues.37 Turkmenistan’s military legislature stands out from the other Central Asian states experience of post-Soviet military reconstruction. The first difference is seen in Turkmenistan’s neglect to follow the wave of military reformation in the late 1990s. Such behavior can be accounted for by the Turkmen government’s conviction that the increased activity of armed opposition underscored by the other four Central Asian states was irrelevant to its own security concerns and domestic stability. However, a series of laws adopted in 2003 “On Civil Defense” and “On Turkmenistan’s Fight against Terrorism” account for similar types of threats to national security.38 Activity of militant groups seems to be an important consideration for the security of the current regime, as an appropriate legislature in defining what constitutes terrorism is being developed. The second prominent difference of the Turkmen legislature’s view on its national military lies in an entrenched conviction about the importance of protecting the internal security order from challenges originating within the state as opposed to possible threats imported from abroad. The decree “On Turkmenistan’s Fight against Terrorism” provides detailed explanation of the legal base for fighting terrorist formations on the territory of Turkmenistan, the order of functional coordination between various state agencies, and rights and duties of the civilian population in fighting terrorism. The decree “On Civil Defense” meticulously lists possible origins of societal instability: natural (earthquakes, river floating, etc.) and technological disasters constitute the core of the challenges to civilian security. However, although sources of armed conflict are not specified, the same decree lists functions of the national armed forces in times of war. Similarly to the decree on “On Civil Defense,” it does not mention any possibility of conflicts at the border, or

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spillovers of external problems from neighboring states. At the same time, the definition of terrorism and identification of challenges by armed groups drastically differ from those acknowledged in military documents of the neighboring states. Unlike in the other four states of Central Asia, Turkmenistan’s identification of a terrorist threat is primarily defined with regard to the security of state institutions and state representatives, and most notably the president: “‘terrorist act’ – is a direct crime of a terrorist nature in the form of blow up, arson … infringement of the Turkmen President’s life, other state or public employee … with the status of interim protection and immunity.” In effect, the state legislature affirms that terrorist organizations might target the political regime. Another dissimilarity of the Turkmen security politics from other states in the region rests in a vague identification of foreign cooperation interests. The country has a recognized status of neutrality which has been a reason for Turkmenistan’s refusal to join regional economic, political or security cooperation arrangements. Article 32 of the decree “On Civilian Defense” maintains only general stances on international security cooperation interests, it does not specify any particular state, group of states or international organization. Although Turkmenistan was reluctant to develop relations with its neighbors, the country was the first to join the PfP program, which offered an opportunity to train local cadres under the aegis of the organization’s international staff. National military structures were reorganized into three branches: the army, air force and border guards; the intention to establish the fourth branch of naval forces on the Caspian Sea was announced in the beginning of the 1990s. This was also a period of unclear status of the three motor rifle divisions located on the Turkmen territory.39 Similar to most post-Soviet states, the new government had the ability to claim control over the division, however the available military infrastructure and personnel required intensive financing. Russia continued to support the base and retained partial control over the MRDs. The Russian–Turkmen Treaty on Joint Measures signed in July 1992 stipulated that Russia would provide logistical and financial support to the post-Soviet military for a period of five to ten years. It was agreed by both sides that Turkmenistan would gradually be able to fully bear the costs of the available military. About 108,000 troops and 300 military units of the Soviet Army resided on the territory of Turkmenistan in the beginning of the 1990s. By 2000 President Niyazov requested Russia to pull out its border troops from Turkmenistan. Moscow followed the request the same year. In 2005 the Turkmen–Russian joint command of the military and Russia’s intensive finance of the military including some arms transfers coincided with Turkmen cooperation on natural gas transfers. By the early 2000s Turkmenistan compensated for its lack of high commandership from among the locals by establishing a Military Institute under the Defense Ministry. Over a dozen Turkmen military officials received training within the PfP framework. However, despite these modest achievements, Turkmenistan’s extended army contingent was employed by the government in the agricultural sector and served as a police force inside government institutions. Thus, the

Military institutions as part of state-building 77 government coerced military personnel into a cheap labor force. Each of some 30 ministries and government institutions were compelled to take over 2,000 personnel under their control. Turkmenistan’s first military doctrine, adopted in 1994, largely ignored most of the threats that other Central Asian states have identified as the most pressing, such as militant and radical religious groups. The country’s post-Soviet armed forces also developed under a different trajectory than those of its neighbors. The Turkmen military has virtually turned into the ruling regime’s mechanism for sustaining orderly compliance within all public institutions. According to a 2004 report by the International Crisis Group, during the Niyazov era army conscripts were posted across almost all public institutions in Turkmenistan, including the healthcare and education sectors. The border guards in Turkmenistan comprise about 5,000 personnel and the air force around 2,000 men. The Border Guard Command was established in 1992 in place of the Central Asian Border Troops District of the Committee for State Security. Most of the border guard contingent is placed along the Afghan frontier, which totals 1,750 kilometers and is vulnerable to drug trafficking. The internal forces of Turkmenistan consist of approximately 25,000 personnel. However, the real amount is most likely higher. Despite the fact that Turkmen armed forces are smaller in number compared to other states in the region, annual military expenditure is among the highest. It is assumed that the bulk of the expenditure is spent on maintenance of law-enforcement agencies as opposed to buildup of military capacity. In March 2008 Turkmen President Gurbanguly Berdymukhammedov announced his decision to endorse the country’s second military doctrine. The revised doctrine would take into account Turkmenistan’s declared neutrality in order to enhance the country’s ability to resist potential threats to its domestic stability. The Turkmen president linked his decision to develop a new military doctrine to his broader economic and political reforms. One major change announced by Berdymukhammedov was the reduction of mandatory military service from 18 months to 12. The doctrine was also likely to pay more attention to the country’s border with Afghanistan, where the Turkmen border guard service had concentrated its efforts. Turkmenistan’s existing prioritization of regional, bilateral, and multilateral cooperation was likely to remain the same – largely blurred under the cover of “positive neutrality.” Nevertheless the doctrine was expected to contain more details on important issues of military control and planning than the existing documents on that topic. Another sign of change in the military domain was Berdymukhammedov’s promise to reform the military and equip it with modern technologies.

Uzbekistan Similarly to its neighboring states, Uzbekistan’s military-industrial complex suffered from the disintegration of the Soviet Army. The Soviet military industry was designed with the principle of interdependence and the Uzbek military industrial

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enterprises constituted a part of the larger military-industrial complex of the Soviet Union. In most cases, post-Soviet military industries were not able to renew their production capacities because of an inability to rebuild previously existing interstate ties. Uzbekistan’s post-Soviet military-industrial ties with Russia on cooperation of production of military transport aviation failed to be efficient. But Uzbekistan was still able to use equipment for preparing army cadres that remained from the Soviet times. The internal structure of the Uzbek military stayed unchanged throughout the period 1992 to 1998 and the command and exercise of the armed forces remained nearly identical as during the Soviet time. Similar to other Central Asian and former Soviet states, Uzbekistan broadened the definition of armed forces defining them as any forces that possess armaments and not merely the army. Internal armed forces were redistributed among the National Security Service. Most of the military renovations during that period were brought about by external stimuli. NATO exercises “Cooperative Nugget” (1995), “Cooperative Osprey” (1996) and “Balance Ultra” (1997) and increased contact with Western states brought in the possibility to train the local troops.40 In the course of nationalization of the military in the 1990s, the army was configured into four military districts: Southwest with its command center in Karshi, in Eastern Ferghana; Central in Dzhizak; Northwestern in Nukus; and the operational command located in Tashkent. Each district consists of a motor rifle division and assault brigades safeguarded by several hundreds of troops. The military educational complex in Uzbekistan includes Tashkent Higher All-Arms Command School, Chichir Higher Tank Command-Engineering School, Samarqand Higher Auto-Artillery School and Djizak Higher Air military college. In 1995 an Armed Forces Academy was established for professional training of officers for all military structures. Throughout his leadership, President Islam Karimov was the only ultimate decision-maker in the security domain. He identified national threats and configured armed forces accordingly. In effect, any security threat gained “legitimacy” when Karimov announced it publicly. With that, the threat of terrorism, often defined abstractly, proved to be a poor source for keeping Karimov popular in Uzbekistan, rather providing grounds for consolidation and amplification of national military forces. The only exception to such political dominance over the military was Uzbekistan, where rumors of a possibility of a coup d’état in Uzbekistan allegedly instigated by Zakirjon Almatov and Rustam Innoyatov, both from Tashkent, spread in 2004 and 2005, prior to and after the Andijan massacre. Partly to avert such future challenges, Karimov was able to replace Almatov with Samarkand native Bahodir Matlubov.41 Uzbekistan’s first military doctrine was endorsed in 1997 and represented a rather symbolic document with little relevance to the practice of national military organization. The doctrine is similar to the one in Ukraine and not the Russian doctrine as in other Central Asian states.42 It lacked a definition of the most pressing security problems or directions for the development of military institutions, but identified a wide spectrum of security problems that might exist globally. The doctrine provides an all-encompassing definition of security on national, regional

Military institutions as part of state-building 79 and international levels and is therefore of limited practical value. In the late 1990s and during the consequent decade, Uzbekistan’s security documents became more inaccessible, while the Karimov regime’s directives were mostly expressed through his public speeches and books. In 1999 and 2000 Karimov placed the fight against terrorism at the forefront of his domestic and regional security policy and began identifying any outbreaks of instability through this prism.43 Since then Karimov operated with a clear conceptual model directed at fighting terrorism and religious extremism. He defined the bombings in Tashkent in February 1999 as a conspiracy by Tohir Yuldashev and Mukhammad Solikh and rushed to identify the Andijan events in May 2005 as an outbreak of terrorism before visiting the city. The fundamental principle of the 1995 doctrine included a non-proliferation policy of nuclear weapons to prevent interstate wars. It agreed on “comprehensive prohibition of nuclear tests,” and the “universal destruction of chemical, bacteriological, and other weapons of mass destruction.”44 It also pledged non-interference in another state’s domestic affairs and active integration to the regional and international security structures. Thus, the doctrine purported general norms and principles of international law but did not provide detailed descriptions of the roles and duties of individual actors or agencies. It gave legal grounds for the country to join international non-proliferation regimes.45 Although the doctrine was designed to prepare national armed forces for defense against criminal militant groups and international terrorism, it did not specify which organizations should fall under such definitions.46 In 2000 the National Security Council of Uzbekistan approved a new military doctrine, which portrayed an array of systematic changes in military construction. Although similar to the doctrine adopted in 1995, the 2000 doctrine emphasized its defensive character and focused more on security at the regional and domestic domains rather than anticipating instabilities emerging beyond Central Asia. The tactics of national military construction and buildup of the defensive capacity purported in the doctrine were based primarily on the possible armed conflicts in the Central Asian region initiated by terrorist groups.47 The doctrine classified possible conflicts into both small and middle range and paid attention to security developments on a regional level, particularly in the Ferghana Valley and Tajikistan. The defense capacity of the country was oriented at suppression of tensions on predominantly the regional level and not domestically. The domestic sources of instability were not specified in the doctrine whereas past and future terrorist insurgencies were defused into a problem of a regional concern. At the same time, the doctrine associated instabilities occurring on the territory of Uzbekistan with the security of the entire region. In other words, there was a fuzzy distinction made between regional and domestic levels of security. Under these principles the defensive nature of the Uzbek military doctrine reduced the number of troops by about 15,000 from the amount maintained since the collapse of the Soviet Union. However, it also aimed at sustaining, first, the state of high readiness of the armed forces and, second, the largest amount of troops in the region. Today, the Uzbek army represents Central Asia’s numerically largest military with 53,000 soldiers.48 This number does not include paramilitary forces of

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the Ministry of Interior and the Border Guard. Furthermore, the military sector has increased its financial expenditure with the new doctrine despite the reduction of troops and reduced duration of mandatory service.

Conclusions This chapter examined the construction of a legislative basis for the development of military institutions in the post-Soviet Central Asian states. It was shown that military reform, threat perceptions and military planning and procurement depended to a great extent on political developments in these states. As the Soviet Union crumbled in 1991, the Central Asian states were least prepared to commence independent existence. The trajectory of their military reforms in the 1990s and 2000s demonstrates that for over a decade the Central Asian governments were not ready to distance themselves from Soviet percepts about the role and place of military institutions in the state and society. The Central Asian states’ emphasis on the strictly defensive nature of their military doctrines reflects the Soviet regime’s approach to its military sector. The main argument behind such a definition of the doctrine postulates that the country does not need military formations for domestic purposes but is only mobilizing them against external challenges. With that, in almost all the Central Asian states the contingent of Interior Ministry Troops exceeded in number those under the Ministry of Defense. Each Central Asian state followed its own path. The military provided additional value by either reinforcing national sovereignties or regime holders’ domestic power. Kazakhstan made the biggest progress by translating its economic success into military reforms and seeking to achieve international standards. The Kazakh government intensified cooperation with its regional and Western partners. Kazakhstan’s 2007 military doctrine was a reflection of this balanced approach towards Central Asian partners, the CSTO, SCO and NATO. Kyrgyzstan has achieved significant progress in reforming its military institutions given that the country lacked the necessary resources. The changes in the Kyrgyz armed forces to a large extent were determined by individual agents within the presidential administration, Security Council and Ministry of Defense. By contrast, Tajik, Turkmen and Uzbek leaders used the military to serve the regime’s domestic needs. The armed forces of all three states continued the Soviet tradition of protecting the regime against any challenges and, often enabled the regime holders to exercise greater control over the civilian population. These militaries retained their place in the hierarchy of state institutions and acquired greater funding and political leverage. In Tajikistan the military was a primary vehicle for President Rakhmon’s centralization of power in the post-civil war period. In Turkmenistan military personnel replaced key public institutions, ensuring that everyone comply with late President Niyazov’s decrees. And in Uzbekistan the vast number of military personnel and arsenals became the rough basis for President Karimov’s ability to control the large population and competing political forces.

4

Russian Bear v. Asian Tiger Competing regional security quasi-regimes

During the 1990s the Central Asian states began to nationalize their military sectors and move away from Moscow’s orbit, but they were largely ignored by the rest of the world. However, after Vladimir Putin became Russia’s president in 2000, several regional and international developments convinced him of the need to reinstate traditional security and military ties with Central Asia. First, the “Shanghai Five” informal arrangement transformed into the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) in June 2001, revealing Beijing’s ability to organize Central Asian leaders to fight regional terrorism. Second, the United States suddenly became interested in strategic partnerships in Central Asia as part of the war on terror in Afghanistan. After the United States established Air Force bases in Bishkek and KharshiKhanabad in Uzbekistan, in December 2001, Putin transformed the Collective Security Treaty into a formal Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO), boosting its significance. By 2003 both the CSTO and SCO had gained momentum and were conducting annual summits and military drills. Their founding countries – Russia and China – declared joint principles of cooperation and became important agents of change in Central Asia. The two organizations focused on security threats in Central Asia, not domestic issues in Russia and China. Except for the restive Xingjian province in Western China, which impelled Beijing to establish cooperative relations with bordering states, neither Russia’s ongoing crises in the North Caucasus nor China’s troublesome control over Tibet ever figured in the CSTO and SCO agendas. The organizations, in effect, were created by Moscow and Beijing with a narrow focus on establishing transnational security regimes within the borders of Central Asia. From providing equipment and uniforms to conducting annual collective exercises, the organizations sought to remodel Central Asian potential political and military institutions so they would correspond with their own security and political needs. At the same time, the CSTO and SCO significantly shaped the Central Asian ruling regimes’ perceptions of their own vulnerability. Central Asian leaders and citizens began to view their security through the prism of CSTO and SCO activities. The CSTO and SCO easily became important channels for maintaining national and regional security. The members of both organizations tend toward political authoritarianism and thus clearly favor strengthening presidential power, minimizing the role of civil society and maximizing public propaganda. As the

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organizations grew stronger and more assertive in the mid 2000s, leaders of the Central Asian states increasingly relied on Moscow and Beijing’s support to win national elections and curb domestic discontent. China and Russia have seen their interests converge in other arenas as well. Moscow’s experience with secessionist Caucasian regions and Beijing’s strained relations with Taiwan and the countersecessionist campaign in the Xingjian Uighur Autonomous Region and the Tibetan Autonomous Region form a common interest between the two countries. This coincidence of domestic policy has been complemented by increasing military cooperation through the organizations and bilaterally between China and Russia since 2002. Together these developments further encourage speculation that a military bloc may be coalescing in Central Asia. Although neither the CSTO nor the SCO is able to match NATO’s formal military infrastructure, and neither requires member states to spend a particular percentage of their gross domestic product on defense, military cooperation has expanded significantly, albeit from humble beginnings. Each organization believes the other has NATO-like ambitions, while neither admits its own wish to establish a competitive security regime in Eurasia. The CSTO’s main principle is that an attack against one state is an attack against all member states, while the SCO seeks to fight the three evils of “terrorism, extremism, and separatism.” Although both organizations contextualize security among their member states in various ways, the CSTO and SCO have also mutually invigorated each other’s existence. The CSTO expanded its activity after China established economic, political, security and cultural ties with the Central Asian states, while the SCO has reduced Russia’s role in the Central Asian region in several strategic fields. These new cooperation regimes in Central Asia have, in turn, influenced the national security decisions of the individual governments. However, this national-level influence was asymmetric: while Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan have gained confidence in their armed forces thanks to the annual military training drills, both organizations sought to establish long-term economic cooperation with Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. By 2008 the SCO seemed poised to expand its borders. Once-neutral Turkmenistan expressed an interest in joining, and several South Asian countries were interested in establishing greater ties with the organization. The CSTO, however, remained a military bloc within the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS); with limited instruments to increase economic and political integration, it tended to coerce its members into multinational activities. Ultimately, Russian President Dmitry Medvedev’s attempts to attract Turkmenistan into the CIS, Eurasian Economic Community (EurAsEC) and CSTO proved futile. Furthermore, the Russian invasion of South Ossetia in August 2008 considerably undermined the CSTO’s respectability in the eyes of its Central Asian members, who either distanced themselves from Moscow’s brutal policies toward Georgia or, like Kazakhstan, openly criticized them. The CSTO’s failure to strengthen bonds among its members and achieve greater regional leverage, at least more than the SCO, undermined the CIS as well. Over the years, the roles adopted by each of the five Central Asian states have shifted according to their relations with the United States and the EU and according

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to their economic potential. The most remarkable change was achieved by Kazakhstan. A combination of constructive relations with the West and rapid economic growth won Astana special recognition within the CSTO and SCO. Kazakhstan emerged as a third leader inside the SCO, as its economic relations with China boomed and its regional economic influence spread. Kazakhstan also won the respect of NATO by transforming its national army into a predominantly contract-based structure. These developments allowed President Nursultan Nazarbayev to initiate his own regional projects independent of Russia or China. Finally, the SCO made China a new regional power – able to influence national security, military and political institutions, as well as threat perceptions and their capacity to resist them – after the Soviet Union’s fall. After over 150 years, the Central Asian states began to drift from Moscow’s orbit. Due to both organizations’ success, Central Asia is increasingly referred to not only as Russia’s “backyard,” but China’s as well.

SCO: unlimited horizons The SCO emerged from the 1996 Shanghai Five border agreement between China and its immediate neighbors: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Russia and Tajikistan. The Shanghai Five helped settle border disputes inherited from the Soviet era and reflected China and Russia’s concern over the growth of Islamic radical movements in Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, as well as the Taliban’s capture of Kabul, Afghanistan, in 1996. Two years later the Shanghai Five evolved into a formal organization that sought to fight, as the Chinese side termed it, the “three evils” of separatism, fundamentalism and terrorism. Uzbekistan joined the new regional security bloc in 2001. The SCO has built interstate economic, military and geostrategic relations among its member states. China is the SCO’s core component, and Beijing’s participation is vital for the organization to function. By initiating the SCO, Russia and China found a platform to expand military cooperation, while Beijing gained direct links to the Central Asian states.

SCO institutional structure As the Shanghai Five transformed into the SCO, it expanded its list of subordinate institutions, which were significantly influenced by Beijing’s conception of a regional organization. The SCO created the Council of Heads of States, the highest decision-making organ, that convenes once a year and has an annually rotating chairmanship (in Russian alphabetical order); the Council of Heads of Governments can identify areas for collaboration; the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs is responsible for intra-organizational communication and organizing annual summits; the Conference of the Heads of Agencies is responsible for communicating specific issues among member states; the Council of National Coordinators supervises logistics and is subordinated to the Council of Ministers of Foreign Affairs; the Beijing-based Secretariat supervises annual budgets and

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implementation of SCO documents. Finally, the Regional Anti-Terrorism Structure (RATS) is based in Tashkent.1 The bloc earned a reputation of acting against a US-led unipolar world order at the July 2005 SCO summit in Astana, when Putin, with other leaders’ support, introduced a motion to request a deadline for ending the US military presence in Central Asia, since the situation in neighboring Afghanistan was stabilizing. The pronouncement was also positively received by the CSTO, which did not want to be the only voice of opposition to the US military presence in the region. Kurmanbek Bakiyev, then Kyrgyzstan’s interim President, quickly bowed to Russia’s pressure and officially requested deadlines from the United States, along with increased rent payments for the Manas base. Washington reacted quickly, dispatching Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld to visit Bishkek. Rumsfeld doubled rent payment for the Manas base up to $100,000 per year and also approved a $200 million loan to Kyrgyzstan.2 Meanwhile in Uzbekistan, President Karimov seized the opportunity to retaliate against Western criticism of the Andijan events and ordered the United States to leave the Karshi-Khanabad air base within 180 days. However, the anti-US talk coming from the SCO began to wane shortly after the Astana summit. Beijing was wary of harsh anti-Western rhetoric and instead expressed interest in building ties with the United States and EU. At the 2008 SCO summit in Dushanbe, China suggested eliminating the term “genocide” from the Russian representatives’ report on Georgian President Mikhail Saakashvili’s activities in South Ossetia. Importantly, China repeatedly stated that unlike the CSTO, the SCO is not a military organization. Chinese officials regularly emphasize that the SCO should in no way be regarded as an anti-American or anti-Western alliance. Although there were some frictions among SCO members and the United States following the Tulip Revolution in Kyrgyzstan and the Andijan events, SCO members were not encouraged to pursue anti-Western policies. Chinese representatives such as Pan Guang, head of the SCO Studies Center in Shanghai, confirmed that the SCO was seeking to ameliorate relations with the EU and Washington. According to this viewpoint, both the EU and US could potentially join the SCO with a special status; however, Russia could block such a merger. But along with promoting greater collaboration with the EU and US, the SCO remains an active contender for Central Asian energy resources, a sector of interest to both Western actors. The SCO has successfully developed bilateral links among its members. However, most of these agreements link either China with the Central Asian states or China with Russia. All agreements within Central Asia or with Russia are concluded under a different organizational framework. But at the same time, neither the SCO nor the CSTO has generated bilateral or multilateral cooperation among the Central Asian states. Since the SCO was initially formed as a border regime, it set precedents whereby its members could quickly conclude bilateral agreements on border control or trade. This tradition of bilateralism extended to Russian– Chinese military cooperation and China’s relations with the Central Asian states. Bilateralism allowed China to assist Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan in arranging military exercises and annual summits – the SCO’s standard activities. Yet, relations

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within the region or between Central Asian states and Russia are conducted mostly under the CIS and CSTO. As the SCO expands its bilateral and trilateral economic links and its regular military drills became routine, Central Asian leaders and citizens have come to accept China’s role as national and regional partner. To emphasize the organization’s magnitude, SCO members often boast that the organization unites over 1.5 billion people, making it the largest institution in Eurasia. The SCO is also proud of the fact that together with its observer states, it unites the world’s four major religions – Christianity, Confucianism, Hinduism and Islam. SCO members cherish their unique “Shanghai spirit,” a shared identity among the SCO member states officially incorporated into the organization’s rhetoric. However, the concept’s real meaning is unclear and every member can interpret it differently. Central Asian leaders regularly invoke the Shanghai spirit when discussing China’s role in their national security policies. This, in turn, signifies a geopolitical reorientation in Central Asian security. The SCO has provided a useful platform for its member states to promote unilateral interests and develop bilateral and trilateral relations within the organization. Member state leaders may express concerns with their domestic situation, warn of security challenges emanating from their neighbors’ territories or debate broader security issues of regional or international concern. Karimov, for example, has complained about the alleged terrorist movements that staged anti-government protests in Andijan in May 2005 as well as SCO exercises that replicated the Andijan scenario and examined the governments’ ability to respond. However, due to SCO’s prevailing bilateralism, Central Asian political officials often dismiss the organization as inefficient, serving only as a banner for cooperation with China. Kazakh and Uzbek scholars, in particular, often argue that the SCO is China’s lightweight creation, an attempt to construct a pseudo-regional cooperation organization. Central Asian governments often have no conceptual framework for dealing with the SCO and no clearly identifiable national interests within the organization. Such ambivalence marks a substantive difference between the SCO and CSTO, where states have a clearer vision of the organizations’ goals and the benefits of membership. The SCO is an asymmetric organization, through which China seeks to secure its presence in Central Asia, but the Central Asian states are far from becoming serious actors in China.3 Because of this inherent asymmetry, SCO members are unlikely to agree on a common set of ideas and values; instead the stronger states – China and Russia – will continue to set the agenda. Beijing believes it can affect the security situation in Central Asia, but its domestic security needs remain outside the SCO framework. For instance, the SCO remained passive during the upheavals in Tibet in spring 2008, which Beijing officially labeled as acts of terrorism, yet one of the organization’s founding principles was to foster cooperation between China and the Central Asian states regarding the separatist regions of Xingjian and Tibet. Likewise, neither the SCO nor the CSTO played a role in Russia’s movements in South Ossetia and Abkhazia in 2008. Such asymmetries limit the SCO’s ability to broaden its agenda and undermine trust among its members.

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In light of criticism that the SCO is just a bilateral organization, China has promoted a multilateral approach to security in Afghanistan. According to Chinese experts, as the insurgency in Afghanistan and drug trafficking worsened in 2006 to 2008, SCO members realized that the myriad of bilateral military and economic links within the SCO prevented them from mounting a multilateral approach to their southern neighbor.4 Consequently, Beijing pushed forward the idea of consolidating bilateral efforts in Afghanistan through the SCO’s multilateral approach. For the Central Asian states, China’s interest in Afghanistan was a new development. Before the SCO’s security scope expanded beyond controlling China’s borders with the Central Asian states, the Kremlin had traditionally handled the region’s frontier with Afghanistan. Debates about how the “Afghan question” should be addressed and what role the Central Asian governments must play to prevent the spread of religious extremism habitually referred to Russia, whether Moscow was actively interested or not. Likewise, until the mid 2000s most Central Asian leaders considered Russia to be the only actor powerful enough to prevent drug trafficking from Afghanistan. For a short period the Kyrgyz and Uzbek governments were proud to host US military bases on their territories, but their loyalty soon returned to Moscow. The March 2005 Tulip Revolution in Kyrgyzstan and continuous political and economic turmoil there damaged the United States’ image in the country. Opponents of regime change from the Akayev administration accused the US and Western NGOs of instigating revolts to install a favorable regime.5 Russian mass media outlets in Kyrgyzstan, parroting the Kremlin line, broadcast mostly negative reports about the United States, further damaging public perceptions of the US military presence. Furthermore, Western criticism of the Andijan massacre in May 2005 prompted Karimov to cut ties with Washington and the EU. Tashkent did not begin to restore ties with the West until 2008. When Iran and Turkmenistan attended the August 2007 SCO summit in Bishkek, the organization seemed poised to expand further while also increasing regional popularity. In addition to the SCO’s traditional members, the presidents or foreign ministers of Afghanistan, India, Mongolia, Pakistan and Turkmenistan participated in the 2007 summit. Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Turkmen President Gurbanguly Berdymukhammedov attended as an “observer” and “distinguished guest,” respectively. Turkmenistan’s President’s participation along with Russia, Iran and China was especially notable, because Russia, the EU and the neighboring states all sought a share of the country’s natural gas production. As the SCO’s regional importance grew, Russia sought to gain greater leverage within the organization. Previously, the Kremlin had suggested holding joint SCO–CSTO military exercises. However, since the SCO is not a military alliance, it refused to participate in regular military drills with the CSTO, which is a military alliance. After joint drills in 2006 and 2007, the SCO refrained from participating in joint exercises with the CSTO. When the EU adopted its Central Asia Strategy for partnership with Central Asia, which included establishing energy security by diversifying sources, the Turkmenistan–China deal on a gas pipeline became a point of contention. While

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insisting that the EU strategy will not interfere with the Chinese presence in the region, EU official representatives admitted that details of the gas deal are largely unknown to them. On the other hand, the EU’s late involvement in Central Asia compelled it to justify its interests in the region and assure that it is by no means an intrusion into a “common backyard.”6 The EU’s Strategy in Central Asia has been a difficult balancing act for the EU presidency, the EU Commission and the EU High Representative for Central Asia – to say nothing of individual member states.

CSTO – another NATO? The Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) was formed as a reaction to the increased US presence in Central Asia following the September 11 events. From 1992 to 2002 the organization was based on the Collective Security Treaty (CST) within the Commonwealth of Independent States, which Russia hoped would reunite former Soviet republics. However, given the CIS’s failure to ensure unity among the Soviet successor states, the CST was a weak organizational foundation for developing security cooperation. This was amply demonstrated in 1999 when Azerbaijan, Georgia and Uzbekistan refused to renew the treaty, effectively withdrawing as full members. Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan later rejoined the CST. From the outset, the treaty’s underlying principle resembled NATO’s: “If an aggression is committed against one of the States Parties by any state or a group of states, it will be considered as an aggression against all the States Parties to this Treaty.”7 Such a stance, although still integral, was declared at a time when Cold War-thinking still dominated post-Soviet officials who believed any future combat would consist of large-scale interstate wars. As the CST transformed into an organization in 2002, Russian and Central Asian leaders saw the organization as a potentially effective institution to combat the potentially destabilizing influence of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU), Hizb-ut-Tahrir and Al Qaeda in the region. However, the efficiency of the CSTO’s collective military training drills was never tested in practice. Since the armed conflict in Batken in 2000, there have been few signs of a significant non-state armed mobilization, such as that of the IMU in the late 1990s. The regional insurgency seems to have changed from mass attacks and conflicts at national borders to individual violent outbreaks such as suicide bombers in Uzbekistan in July 2004. But CSTO has seemed to be more concerned with different types of external security threats and Collective Rapid Reaction Forces (CRRF) were never deployed during these instances of unrest. Instead, virtually every policy decision made by the CSTO after upgrading its status had an air of anti-Western bias. The CSTO successfully increased the loyalty of its members despite being rather ineffective in responding to regional security problems. The organization, in effect, was Moscow’s most efficient instrument for retaining the loyalty of the Central Asian regimes. Karimov’s decision to (re)join the CSTO in 2006, one year after his regime ousted the US base, showed that CSTO would provide a refuge for its

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members against international criticism. Inside the CSTO and CIS, defense ministers usually refrain from admitting their domestic security problems and instead appeal to more abstract definitions of terrorism and extremism. Moreover, no potential security threat is ever considered to be a consequence of political leadership, but rather the product of vague “third forces.” For instance, Tajikistan’s Defense Minister Sherali Khairulloyev has regularly assured his counterparts that the country’s only threat is from increased drug trafficking, which increased during the NATO campaign in Afghanistan. With that assertion, Khairulloyev denied rumors that isolated incidents of government–opposition brawls occurred in early 2008. Similarly, Karimov blames transnational terrorist groups for destabilizing Uzbekistan. The CSTO’s bilateral relations between Russia and other member states might contradict the organization’s overall goals of post-Soviet unification. As post–civil war Tajikistan began to stabilize in the early 2000s, Tajik President Emomali Rakhmon tried to reduce the number of Russian border guards deployed along some 882 km of the 1,344-km Tajik–Afghan frontier. He also sought a reduction in the Russian military presence with the Russian-controlled 201st Motor Rifle Division. Rumors that Russian troops were involved in massive drug trafficking have been rampant across Tajikistan and Central Asia. However, the Tajik government was not able to openly express its concern over Russian troops but rather explained that it could not control the border on its own without the Kremlin’s post–civil war peacekeeping efforts. In December 2004 Russian troops finally left Tajikistan, considerably shrinking the size of the 201st MRD and by 2005 to 2006 Tajik border guards fully controlled the border with Afghanistan. According to some experts, Russia would have removed its troops from the Afghan–Tajik border anyway, because the contingent was turning into an independent force profiting extensively from drug trafficking.8 After withdrawing its military, Russia converted the 201st Motor Rifle Division into a CSTO military base in 2004. By 2006 the base had turned into a small town with houses, schools and hospitals. Similarly, Kyrgyzstan’s membership in the CSTO is two-layered, with Bishkek being a regular member in the organization that is also entitled to exude greater commitments to it compared to other members by hosting a Russian military base. The CSTO regards the Russian base in Kant, Kyrgyzstan, as strategically important for all of the organization’s members, despite the fact that the base has not been used once since it was established in 2003. Afghanistan has gradually become an important element for the security agendas of both the CSTO and the SCO. Focusing on regional implications of the resurgence of the Taliban in Afghanistan, both organizations have boosted their efforts to conduct regular joint anti-terrorism activities. Unlike the SCO, the CSTO does not have any prospects for expanding membership. The CSTO is part of the CIS, and its members are united on the basis of a shared common Soviet past. Although the CSTO positions itself as an organization open to anyone, any country outside of this historic heritage would alter the organization’s internal cohesion. The organization is thus not only limited in its scope of activities but also in its future growth. Moreover, the Central Asian states, which

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applaud the CSTO’s existence, are the organization’s cornerstone. Without the Central Asian states, the CSTO would be limited merely to Russia, Belarus and Armenia. Even in Turkmenistan, where Russia was able to secure strong ties after the death of leader Saparmurat Niyazov, also known as Turkmenbashi (Leader of the Turkmens), President Berdymukhammedov has shown little inclination to join the CSTO. In contrast, after Turkmenistan gained a special-guest status at the SCO, Berdymukhammedov toyed with the idea of becoming a full member at the SCO. In 2007, amid intensifying international concern over Iran’s nuclear development program, CSTO General Secretary Nikolai Borudzha announced that Iran might be the next possible CSTO member, but his message was hardly greeted with enthusiasm among the other members. According to the General Secretary, Iran and the CSTO members share similar interests related to drug trafficking in Central Asia and, “If Iran applies in accordance with our charter, we will consider the application.”9 Iran’s membership in CSTO would be a blatant giveaway about the organization’s anti-Western slant. Iran would also be an exception to the members’ shared Soviet past and common cultural background. However, Tehran has seemed more inclined to join the SCO either by becoming an active observer or eventually as a full member.10 With limited potential for expansion, the CSTO sought to increase its functional areas, often copying NATO institutions. For example, the CSTO plans to create its own peacekeeping troops by 2010. The main feature of such a coalition peacekeeping contingent would be a standardized training for conscripts and officers at Russian military schools. The CSTO’s efforts to create its own full-fledged peacekeeping contingent would reflect international standards of organization and indeed mimic, if not duplicate, NATO’s peacekeeping activities. CSTO’s CRRF are comprised of national military contingents. They always retain a state of readiness to be deployed in emergencies. CRRF’s military units are stationed at Russia‘s Privolzhsko-Ural’sky military district, Kyrgyzstan’s Kant airbase and the Russian military base in Tajikistan (the former 201st Motorized Division). All three bases are mobilized during military drills and are regarded as Russia’s contribution to joint maneuvers. In October 2007 Russia pushed forward a statute that would allow CRRF to be dispatched in member states territories in times of high security threats, with or without a UN mandate. Under this same statute, member states could purchase Russian weapons and armaments at discounted prices. Each member contributes two permanent battalions with over 400 soldiers each, more during military drills. As of 2008 Uzbekistan was the only country that still refrained from contributing battalions to CRRF. Furthermore, the CSTO created a special Coordinating Council on the Prevention of Illegal Migration (CCPIM) to regulate migration flows on its territory. The Council collaborates with local migration offices and has presented special recommendations about security issues to governments. The CCPIM studies influenced the Russian government when it established quotas for Central Asian labor migrants. It offered a platform for negotiations on these quotas between Central Asian governments and the Kremlin. Russia and Kazakhstan were especially interested in such a regulatory body, as both states host hundreds of thousands of labor

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migrants from Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. The CSTO aspires to help Russia and Kazakhstan control immigrants, who they see as a national security challenge. By creating sub-structures, the CSTO was able to supplant NATO and its PfP program in the region in the 1990s. At the same time, the CSTO has insisted that it does not openly challenge the presence of NATO or any other international organization in the CIS. All CIS/CSTO states are part of the PfP program, with Armenia and Kazakhstan openly pursuing active cooperation with NATO in addition to cooperation with the CSTO and other regional structures. The CSTO conducts in-depth analyses to determine its future objectives, giving it perhaps the best-equipped analytical structure dealing with Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Local researchers and ministries of defense often use CSTO regional and national security studies, acknowledging its high-quality and impartial activities.11 The CSTO’s findings are generally available to journalists and academics, further increasing its public value. However, many CSTO statutes exist on paper only. For instance, the CSTO’s Parliamentary Assembly is another example of an intra-organizational institution that duplicates those of NATO. The Assembly, launched in 2007, is by definition a civilian structure within a military organization. Further, the CSTO’s Media Forum was set up to facilitate the exchange of information among member states, but it has hardly ever convened to solve practical issues. Finally, at the 2007 Dushanbe summit, the CSTO/CIS launched a special structure to deal with emergencies and extraordinary situations among members. Just a few months later Tajikistan experienced a severe energy crisis as prolonged sub-zero temperatures drained the country’s electricity. Dushanbe declared a humanitarian crisis, but none of the CSTO’s structures, including the new one, responded. The lack of action by the CSTO revealed its hollow commitment. Instead, Iran, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Turkmenistan supplied electricity to Tajikistan outside of the CSTO aegis, despite their own domestic shortages of power. The incident inevitably altered Tajikistan’s view of the CSTO and improved relations with Teheran independent of Moscow’s directives. The CSTO’s increase in activities is a function of the SCO’s growing role in the region. Both organizations regularly conduct collective military exercises and hold annual summits. The CSTO often tries to make its exercises outshine those of the SCO. Both organizations have overlapping membership, with the exception of Armenia and Belarus (just CSTO) and China (just SCO). In 2007, the CSTO proposed joint military exercises with the SCO, but Beijing declined. Compared with the SCO, the CSTO conduct smaller-scale exercises that showcase the high mobility of its CRRF. While Central Asian scholars and policymakers see the CSTO as an international security organization capable of maintaining stability in the region, few observers in Russia have even acknowledged its value as a strategic anti-terrorism organization or even as a structure regulating migration processes, facilitating information exchanges and promoting military trade. Rather, the Russian public’s knowledge of military strength rests completely on its domestic military capabilities. In

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Central Asia, there are widespread media reports about the success of domestic militaries in terms of training in Russian military institutions, acquiring Russian equipment, and improving living conditions, increasing public trust in the national armies. Thus the CSTO, an influential Russian-dominated security organization, was more widely recognized in Central Asia, Armenia and Belarus than in Russia itself. When it was first launched in 1992, the CST was regarded as a continuation of the Warsaw Pact.12 However, as the CSTO widened the scope of its activities, the Russian public was unaware of these developments. Central Asian media outlets cover the military trainings and summits in great detail, while the Russian public is perhaps more familiar with NATO activities.13 Russian audiences also seem to be more aware of reports praising SCO activities. Among Russian intellectual circles the SCO is defined as a primarily economic organization not a security one. Therefore, political and academic circles have not condemned the SCO’s success in fostering energy cooperation between China and Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan. Despite its limited prospects for membership expansion, the pace of CSTO activities increased during the period 2002 to 2008, in part because the Central Asian states have sought stronger relations with Russia. Unlike the SCO, where the political and economic backgrounds of the post-Soviet member states differ from those of China, the CSTO has a certain dynamism and homogeneity, given its members’ common Soviet history and widespread use of the Russian language, which allows easy, often casual, communication among members. At CSTO meetings, members are rarely burdened by bureaucratic procedures. The ease of communication allows CSTO members to break into ad hoc meetings to resolve issues during larger CIS gatherings. Furthermore, in 2007 both structures CSTO and CIS began organizing joint summits. Also in the period 2006 to 2008, high-ranking representatives of the CSTO states regularly met to discuss the organization’s current and future direction of functioning. Representatives of member states understood each other effortlessly and members could joke and relax outside formal sessions. The Russian language also facilitates easy educational exchanges among Central Asia, Armenia, Belarus and Russia. Military education in Russia is still considered prestigious in Central Asia, and graduates of Russian schools acquire positions more easily and have greater mobility across military structures. Even Kazakhstan has faced a shortage of military schools and thus sends military personnel to Russia. Education in Russia inevitably fosters pro-Kremlin views among the military and encourages a pro-Moscow military policy. However, while the CSTO has shown some success in conducting meetings and educational exchanges among state agencies of a similar rank, it has failed to initiate intra-organizational activity across various agencies. For instance, representatives of military structures rarely meet with their civilian counterparts in their own and other countries, thus reducing chances for a civil–military dialogue. Central Asian military officials support CIS and CSTO initiatives more than politicians, as demonstrated during the Russian military campaign in Georgia in August 2008.

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While Central Asian political leaders, except for Nazarbayev, refused to either support or condemn Moscow, military officials expressed their strong approval of the invasion. Yet when the CSTO summit convened in September 2008, members abstained from expressly supporting Moscow. The summit showed that Nazarbayev’s reluctance to endorse Medvedev and Putin allowed other Central Asian leaders to remain more neutral too. The summit also demonstrated that despite the CSTO’s military cooperation, the organization is still guided by political considerations, and military ties remain of secondary importance. The military element in CSTO activities will continue to occupy a central position in the foreseeable future. But by expanding its activities beyond the military and security sectors, the CSTO is giving new meaning to the CIS and defying the many predictions of the organization’s imminent demise. Unlike the CSTO, CIS members allow themselves to criticize its work and raise controversial issues. Some of the most heated debates occur between the defense ministers of Azerbaijan and Armenia over CIS actions regarding Nagorno-Karabakh. On numerous occasions both sides have accused the CIS of not following international law or taking any concrete actions regarding the conflict. Compared to the SCO, which serves to legitimize Central Asia’s rigged elections and increasingly authoritarian regimes, the CSTO addresses domestic political issues among its member states such as elections, military reform, economic policy, etc. The CSTO seeks to influence military strategies, foreign relations, security and economic policies. The CSTO’s success in organizing military drills paved the way for the organization’s penetration beyond just military issues, such as greater integration with the Eurasian Economic Community (EurAsEC), since economic cooperation in energy and transport inevitably has security dimensions as well. At the December 2007 meeting between the EurAsEC and CSTO general secretaries, the CSTO General Secretary Nikolai Borudzha noted that the CSTO could play a larger role in EurAsEC’s efforts to deal with contraband, drugs and weapons trafficking and illegal migration.14 A formal agreement on the CSTO–EurAsEC merger was signed in summer 2008, despite the fact that the CSTO already has a special organ regulating military-economic fields, the International Commission on Military-Economic Cooperation.

Joint drills Since the early 2000s, both the SCO and CSTO have conducted annual collective anti-terrorism military exercises, with Russia and China as the main suppliers of military technologies, aircraft, submarines, elite battalions, and armaments. The SCO and CSTO’s joint drills usually involve heavy armament and thousands of soldiers. They provide a useful gauge of institutional evolution, agenda consolidation, and military development among the member states. The scope and size of collective military activities have been growing since 2003, involving larger and larger amounts of troops and more modern technologies. The SCO’s Regional Anti-Terrorism Structure (RATS), launched in 2004, and the CSTO’s CRRF largely overlap and, at the same time, compete with each other.

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The important difference between the two structures is that the RATS has only a coordinating and decision-making organ in Tashkent and no plans to create joint contingents, while CRRF is clearly determined to establish its own peacekeeping battalions. Another important difference between RATS and CRRF is that every CSTO drill takes place partly in Russia and partly in the country holding the organization’s rotating chairmanship. By contrast, the SCO fields a variety of drills, bilateral and multilateral, that always involve China. CRRF thus has its own annual routine, while the SCO’s activities depend on bilateral deals between its members. Despite these differences, drills by both RATS and CRRF are very popular, especially in Central Asia. The military units from the two smaller and weaker countries – Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan – that participated in these exercises marveled at the military technologies showcased by Russia and China. Although often passive observers, military officials from both states could not deny their appreciation of these highly theatrical activities after the long lull in military development in the 1990s. The drills thus instantly received high marks from the Kyrgyz and Tajik militaries, since they are the only occasions when selected military contingents could familiarize themselves with Russian and Chinese military technology. For many Central Asian soldiers, this was the first chance to get acquainted with modern weapons. Because of the high local prestige of these drills, local military contingents carried out extensive preparations whenever they took place in Central Asia. The SCO’s first military drills were conducted in Kyrgyzstan in October 2002 and involved the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. Although the 2002 drills were relatively small in scale, they were the first interstate military activities for both China and the SCO. In summer 2003, the SCO organized even larger exercises in Eastern Kazakhstan and China’s Xingjian province. The Coalition-2003 drills were based on a scenario of anti-terrorism actions in a small town, involving 100 “terrorists” and 700 military personnel. The drills followed an imaginative Batken3 scenario to defeat a terrorist organization in areas distant from political centers. The 2004 scenario involved a total of 1,300 military personnel from China, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Russia and Tajikistan. The same year China also conducted bilateral military drills with Pakistan, India, France and Great Britain. Uzbekistan, however, refused to participate in Coalition-2003, due to its active cooperation with the United States and NATO at that time. Some 60 foreign representatives from 16 countries observed Coalition-2003. Prior to the SCO drills in 2002, the CSTO’s CRRF had already conducted military training based on the Batken-3 scenario to fight terrorists from the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan. However, after positive evaluations of the SCO’s 2003 drills by the organization’s member states, the CRRF conducted larger exercises, Rubezh-2004 (Frontier-2004), in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan in the summer of 2004. The CRRF were trained to fight Al Qaeda and other terrorist organizations allegedly active in the Ferghana Valley and seeking to create a Caliphate. The main task of Rubezh-2004 was to disband international terrorists by means of air attacks. Russia was the main supplier of aviation technologies. Together, about 1,700 CRRF troops, out of the organization’s total 4,500, were involved in the exercises.

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An atmosphere of competition was noticeable in Kyrgyz Colonel Askarbek Japarov’s public statement that “Rubezh-2004 will outdo the recently held joint military exercises by the SCO in China.”15 Likewise, for the first time, accredited military observers from the SCO and the Chinese Ministry of Defense attended the CRRF exercises. The exercises were popular among Central Asian military officials, particularly those who still had wide networks with their Russian counterparts. Both the Coalition-2003 and Rubezh-2004 drills represented a breakthrough in regional security cooperation. However, they also indicated a rapidly intensifying competition between Russia and China over their ability to form separate security regimes in Central Asia. In 2005 and 2006 the scope of the CSTO’s Rubezh antiterrorism exercises expanded yet more, with Russia willing to invest more resources in the Central Asian militaries. Roughly 3,000 to 4,500 troops were involved in each joint military maneuver. Starting from 2005, SCO renamed its drills “Peace Mission.” In 2005, however, Rubezh drills were at the brink of collapse because of the March 24 Tulip Revolution in Kyrgyzstan. The drills were scheduled to take place in Kyrgyzstan in early April. But Putin insisted that Rubezh-2005 relocate to Tajikistan and the drills’ scenario was abruptly revised. Although the Russian Defense Ministry declared that Rubezh-2005 had nothing to do with events in Kyrgyzstan, the revamped scenario featured contingents dressed in red uniforms resisting aggressive groups attacking the government and dressed in blue. While the “blues” were mobilizing the population against the regime, the “reds” were protecting the country’s sovereignty and territorial integrity.16 A similar distinction between red and blue uniforms soon became a tradition, with brown uniforms added later to signify non-CSTO states. The implication of this division into red and blue camps during the drills emphasizes the blue team’s ties with destructive foreign powers, be they terrorist organizations, as in the Andijan events, or international NGOs, as in Kyrgyzstan’s regime change. Rubezh-2006 took place in Kazakhstan, near Aktau, and aimed at training the CRRF to combat terrorism via air, land and sea. Russia and Kazakhstan provided air defense plus naval and ground forces, while both states focused on an anti-terrorism campaign in and around the Caspian Sea. Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan submitted one battalion each. All the CSTO states except for Uzbekistan took part in the drills. As with Rubezh-2005, the drill’s scenario focused on terrorists objecting to elections and attacking a government in order to establish a Caliphate, while also mobilizing an angry population with similar views. This scenario showed how much progress CSTO members had made toward preventing violent regime change. Central Asian leaders, including Kurmanbek Bakiyev, who replaced Askar Akayev as president of Kyrgystan in March 2005, had become concerned with security issues that would directly challenge their hold on power. Similarly, Rubezh-2006 assured indirect support to Uzbekistan’s president Karimov, whose actions in suppressing crowds in May 2005 were recognized by CSTO members as being “anti-terrorist.” However, although the drills had a clear scenario in Central Asia, the CSTO representatives admitted that the event was mostly designed to help

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members become better acquainted with Russian and Kazakhstani military technologies.17 The CSTO’s drills in 2006 also revealed that although collective activities allow its members to improve military professionalism, a myriad of questions on intraCRRF activities remained. For example, should members send contingents with different professional and service backgrounds also states alternated between contract-based and compulsory contingents, as well as levels of experience depending on ranks. Higher commanders displayed greater professionalism and most of them had been educated under the Soviet regime. The higher commandership primarily from Russia often criticizes low professionalism of the younger generation from other states.18 In the summer of 2006, Kyrgyzstan and Russia conducted joint exercises in China. Importantly, the Kyrgyz–Russian drills were carried out under the aegis of the SCO, not the CSTO. Russia’s willingness to participate in the drills signified the CSTO’s willingness to cooperate more closely with the SCO. Sino-Russian cooperation reached its peak in 2006, when both states conducted joint military exercises on China’s Shandong peninsula under the SCO’s aegis. These were the first bilateral military maneuvers between the two states ever held. China provided 7,000 troops, while Russia provided 1,800 men. The training involved assault ships, submarines, and strategic aviation. Since no other SCO members, except Russia and China, have access to the sea, the drills were largely labeled as saber rattling aimed at Taiwan. However, the drills also promoted greater arms trade between Russia and China. Diplomatic visits between Russian and Chinese military and security officials have also become more frequent. Following the drills, Moscow showed greater interest in combining CSTO and SCO joint maneuvers and actively expressed its plans further for collaboration. But contrary to expectations, Beijing rebuked Moscow’s attempts for deeper collaboration between both organizations. This showed Beijing’s preference to continue its presence in Central Asia as an actor independent from Russia. In 2007 the CSTO held Kavkazsky Rubezh-2007 (Caucasus Frontier) exercises in North Ossetia and Ingushetia. The drills were designed to prevent terrorist incursions as well as drugs and weapons smuggling across Russia’s southern frontiers. Rubezh-2007 coincided with rapidly deteriorating relations between Russia and Georgia over South Ossetia and Abkhazia. The drills were not relevant to Central Asia’s security concerns, and so they downgraded their level of participation. While the Central Asian states took a passive role in the drills in 2007, the scenario implied all CSTO members agreed with Russia’s policy toward Georgia. The Central Asian leaders expressed no objection to their non-involvement in the 2007 drills. The drills also indirectly pointed at the CSTO’s internal consensus that protecting members’ ruling regimes was a chief security concern for all members. In the summer of 2007 the SCO practiced defensive mechanisms against nuclear terrorism in Peace Mission-2007 joint exercises. The scenario for Peace Mission2007 also bore a strong resemblance to the Andijan events. This was also the first time Uzbekistan participated. The drills were staged at a specially constructed small town where “bandits” occupied administrative buildings and threatened

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regular citizens. Peace Mission-2007 took place in Russia’s Povolzhsk-Uralsk military district and China’s Urumchi province. According to reports by the Russian media, Moscow supplied over half of the military technology units.19 Initially, the CSTO secretariat wanted to join the SCO’s exercises. CSTO officials believed that since the goals and membership of both organizations overlapped, then organizing joint military drills would reduce costs and facilitate the exchange of experience between them. Russia also claimed to have spent 2 billion Rubles, or 10 percent of its total annual spending on military training, on Peace Mission-2007, the highest value among SCO members. However, Beijing insisted that the two organizations lacked legal grounds for conducting joint military maneuvers. Instead, the SCO wanted to enlarge the scope of Peace Mission-2007. Moscow and China each agreed to provide up to 3,000 military personnel. These numbers were remarkably high; Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan each provided 100 personnel and Kyrgyzstan only 30. The number of personnel sent by each country suggested that the drills primarily featured Russian and Chinese military teams. Furthermore, the Peace Mission-2007 exercises featured exclusively Russian and Chinese military technologies. Armenia and Belarus, both members of the CSTO, were invited to the SCO exercises as observers. Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese President Hu Jintao also attended the drills, but the SCO refused to allow the United States to observe the drills.

Other activities Aside from collective drills, starting in 2008 the CSTO began conducting regular sports competitions between military and civilian personnel. The underlying goal of these competitions was to raise the prestige of military service, nurture patriotism among youth and promote a healthy lifestyle. As with military assistance, the Russian Defense Ministry was the main sponsor of sports activities, while other members enthusiastically approved them. These competitions also promoted cross-nation contacts. The dominance of the Russian command, both in the military drills and military-sports competitions, conspicuously resemble the Soviet style of supra-national integration. As in the Soviet period, each nation’s ethno-cultural identity is valued and the organization’s declarations are translated into members’ official languages, but Russian remains the primary language of the competitions and exercises. Member states are encouraged to display their ethnic heritage, but their activities are organized and directed under Moscow’s umbrella. Veteran organizations play a significant role in these patriotic activities. Representatives from Russian and member-states’ veterans’ movements earnestly support the competitions. Veterans of the Afghan war are particularly active participants in such events. At the 2008 competitions Borudzha suggested establishing a special institution within the organization that would coordinate members’ national youth groups. A CSTO military-sports club, he suggested, should be established at Kyrgyzstan’s Issyk-Kul Lake, where it would complement the CSTO air base in Kant. It would

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also, however, be undeniably reminiscent of the Soviet-era Pioneer and Komsomol youth organizations, which promoted patriotism for the greater motherland and international friendship. Unlike the military drills, where mostly elite battalions participate, military-sports competitions involve regular youth from military and civilian schools. Finally, focusing on the CSTO’s youth would follow the Kremlin’s greater emphasis on youth issues since the mid 1990s. The CSTO and CIS also promoted celebrations of the sixty-fifth anniversary of the Second World War. In summer 2008 CIS members agreed to jointly prepare for a contest on exhibitions at military-historic museums before 2010. Celebrations of the anniversary matched Putin and Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov’s glorification of the Soviet experience in the war in their public statements. Putin’s efforts to promote the cult of the Soviet victory in the World War II united people across Russia and allowed him to contrast Russia with the West and underline the country’s historic significance. The war was the Soviets’ victory against Nazi Germany for both the CSTO and CIS. Given the CSTO’s success in promoting various types of military cooperation, the CIS also made a similar bet on the military domain. The CIS is comprised of ten states, and its agenda includes security issues beyond its members’ territories, with active dialogue about CIS military involvement in Abkhazia and Georgia. In 2008 the CIS Council of Defense Ministers decided to strengthen cooperation in air defense through 2015. The CIS also decided to conduct annual air-based anti-terrorism exercises, as well as sponsoring sports competitions among its members. Both the CIS and CSTO had discussed cooperation in air defense since the establishment of the Kant base in Kyrgyzstan. However, air defense seemed unrealistic due to high costs and members’ disagreements on the commandership of the defense under either CIS or CSTO’s aegis until it was promoted by Russia at the CIS Defense Minister Council in June 2008. The air defense agreement marked the advancement of cooperation among the CIS members. When the agreement at last came into place, it signified a new level of military integration among its members. Furthermore, the air defense by far surpassed the SCO’s activities in defense. The development of air defense under the CIS aegis confirmed that the organization acted as a security “umbrella” over its members’ territories. Relations within the CIS, CSTO and SCO were tested during Russia’s military campaign in Georgia in August 2008. Russia’s triumph in the campaign and the declarations of independence by South Ossetia and Abkhazia set expectations for SCO and CSTO members to support Moscow’s actions. In particular, Russia expected Nazarbayev to recognize both secessionist republics, given his avid pursuit of balance between the West and Russia. Moscow also expected Bakiyev to fall in line due to his habitual support of Russia. However, both leaders avoided any strong rhetoric toward Russia during the military campaign and at the SCO summit in Dushanbe on August 28. Nazarbayev in particular showed that he is not inclined to support the Kremlin if it runs counter to the view of international institutions. In the run up to Kazakhstan’s OSCE chairmanship in 2010 Nazarbayev emphasized that Russia must collaborate with the OSCE to calm unrest in Georgia.20 The Kazakh leader’s unwillingness to support Russia undermined the SCO’s internal

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cohesion. To a large extent Nazarbayev’s reluctance to openly support Putin and Medvedev’s actions allowed Bakiyev to remain distant as well. Nazarbayev and Bakiyev had a chance to discuss the implications of Russia’s campaign in Georgia during the military activities at an informal setting in Kyrgyzstan during both leaders’ holiday. Since Kyrgyzstan chaired the CIS in 2008, Kyrgyz political leaders found it difficult to remain neutral regarding Georgia’s withdrawal from the CIS. Bakiyev avoided making any official statement about Georgia’s decision, but several MPs and government officials pointed at the looming crisis within the CIS caused by Russia’s confrontation with Georgia. Throughout the CIS’s existence, the various crises in 2008 have posed the greatest challenge to the organization’s further functioning. In the meantime, the CSTO appeared to be an immobile and superfluous organization. Neither the CSTO parliamentary assembly nor the CRRF was engaged in solving the conflict and none of the organization’s members were incorporated into the decision-making process. Its members were not able to challenge Russia’s unilateralism.

National military documents Both CSTO and SCO inevitably influenced the Central Asian states’ national security priorities and accompanying documents. In the military and security documents adopted since the mid 1990s, the SCO and CSTO were routinely mentioned as strategic alliances. National military doctrines and security concepts in Central Asian states refer to both organizations as vital for domestic and regional security against external threats. These documents also mention the significance of cooperation within the PfP framework. Depending on the emphasis, the amount of attention paid to each alliance, as well as the partner states became an indicator of their stance toward international actors; namely, China, Russia, or Western powers. Moscow used the CSTO to restore military ties with Central Asia, the Caucasus and Belarus, further encouraging asymmetric interdependence between the center and periphery. For Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, the countries with the weakest militaries and economies, the CSTO, and increasingly the SCO, provide a sense of belonging to greater security alliances. Both states are at the margins of regional economic cooperation (except for Kyrgyzstan’s shuttle trade with China), and their citizens migrate en masse to Russia and Kazakhstan in search of jobs. But they are also of strategic importance to both alliances due to Tajikistan’s frontier with Afghanistan and Kyrgyzstan’s hosting of the US military. Due to these interconnections, presidents Rakhmon and Bakiyev were eager to develop national security documents that would reinforce their relationship with the CSTO and SCO. While Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan reference the CSTO and SCO in their military doctrines, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan have classified their doctrines. There are no publicly available documents on security issues that describe these states’ security priorities. Without any clear vision of where military and security cooperation with the CSTO and SCO would lead Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, both countries nevertheless mention both these organizations in their official documents. The

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CSTO is mentioned more frequently, followed by the SCO. Collaboration with NATO’s PfP is not mentioned as often as it is in Kazakhstan’s 2007 doctrine. The Russian press condemned Kazakhstan’s 2007 military doctrine for its Westward tilt due to its frequent mention of collaboration with the PfP. Kazakhstan earned this image due to its recognition of the United States, EU and China as strategic partners without specifically prioritizing cooperation with Russia as key to sustaining national, regional and global security. Although it mentions Russia early on, the 2007 doctrine emphasizes the significance of military advancement to reach NATO standards and acting under the UN aegis. The doctrine praises Kazakhstan’s efforts to join international peacekeeping activities, specifically its efforts to increase contact with NATO by launching local PfP training centers throughout the country. The doctrine also specifies Kazakhstan’s cooperation with the CSTO, referring to all chief elements of the organization’s activity, including participation in creating CRRF. Yet, the doctrine still prioritizes international peacekeeping ahead of activities under the CSTO or SCO. In 2007 Kazakh Defense Minister Akhmetov unveiled his plans to boost Kazakhstan’s air defense forces, which were deeply integrated with CSTO plans to establish joint air defense, as well as Kazakhstan‘s deep dependence on military technology from Russia. Thanks to CSTO, Kazakhstan acquires Russian components for its air defense at lower prices and, according to Kazakhstan’s Institute for Strategic Studies under the President, this particular status “beats all other priorities in international cooperation.”21 Acquiring air-defense technologies from other sources would entail higher financial costs. By mentioning the strategic importance of the CSTO and SCO in national security, military doctrines predictably incorporate the language used by both organizations in their own documents. The three evils of terrorism, extremism, and separatism, as identified by the SCO, appear in Kazakh, Kyrgyz, Tajik and Uzbek documents as well. In addition, the CSTO’s declaration that an attack against one state is an attack against all states figures in the organization’s main documents. Furthermore, it is against CSTO principles to identify threats as “local.” The organization emphasizes that any terrorist organization may attract hundreds, even thousands of people and launch transnational and regional conflicts. If a terrorist attack occurs in one state it might recur or spillover into another.22 In essence, however, besides being among the most successful in moving away from the Soviet past and implementing gradual yet assured military reform, Kazakhstan was able to synchronize security regimes and intelligence exchanges with China. Government officials across Central Asia are divided into Russian, Chinese or Western camps, depending on what views they share about the CSTO, SCO, and NATO. Their views fluctuate, but documents supporting a Russian presence are more enduring and such preferences are expressed publicly more often. At times politicians with strong favoritism toward all three actors have reached extremes, as when a Kyrgyz political leader suggested establishing a Russian–Kyrgyz confederation. Starting in the mid 2000s more political leaders in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have expressed welcoming views toward Russia’s increased presence

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and a rather antagonistic perception of the role of the US in regional security. Against this background the EU is regarded as a politically neutral power.

SCO and CSTO v. Central Asian intra-regional cooperation Attempts to establish regional security institutions in Central Asia began in the early 1990s. Newly independent states faced increasingly active militant Islamic movements, growing drug trafficking, rising crime and ethnic separatism. But postSoviet military cooperation developed at a different rate, involving only some states of the region. There were few joint military-cooperation activities, such as practical training exercises, in which all of the affected states participated. At the same time, such integrative endeavors at the regional level were complicated by the emergence of new national legislatures that laid claim to military units and equipment left on their territories at the moment the Soviet Union dissolved. By 1993 and 1994 the Central Asian states had adopted basic legislation that allowed them to continue to form their own armed forces de jure independent from Russia. The border troops along the Central Asian states’ frontier with Afghanistan, China and Iran, and the air forces continued to remain under joint control between national and Russian governments. At this time the status of arms control on the territories of post-Soviet states was ambiguous, as most sites were under neither Russian nor national control. The apparent lack of regional cooperation among the Central Asian states outside of the CSTO and SCO was acknowledged on numerous occasions by state officials and academics. To solve this problem in 2007 Nazarbayev suggested creating a Central Asia Union (CAU) and restrict membership mainly to Central Asian states by excluding Russia. Nazarbayev described an intra-regional union that would avoid incorporating bigger neighbors but still allow Kazakhstan to invest in neighboring countries’ markets. According to research by Kazakhstan’s Institute for Strategic Studies, Kazakhstan’s domestic growth requires a market of over 70,000 people and Central Asian countries are an apparent opportunity in this projected expansion.23 With that, Nazarbayev showed no intention to induce a military component to CAU. As Nazarbayev moved to actively prioritize regional economic cooperation and political integration within the CAU in 2007, the diversity between the SCO and CSTO became more evident. Russia and China reacted quite differently to intraregional cooperation initiatives. Namely, while Russia sought to be the dominant actor in the region and reduce the presence of Western actors, China acknowledged that the Central Asian states had the right to form their own regional organizations. Such divergence correlates with how Russia and China individually relate to Western actors. Since the Astana summit in 2006, when anti-US sentiments were expressed by Russia and quietly supported by the Central Asian members, the SCO has tried to downplay its reputation as being anti-Western. SCO officials insist that the organization has been in regular contact with the UN Security Council and OSCE institutions since the early 2000s. Referring to the existence of EurAsEC, Russia also blocked multilateral economic cooperation activities among the Central Asian states. The EurAsEC failed on many

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occasions to lift trade barriers or improve job security for labor migrants. Just as the CSTO fell short of bilateral security agreements between members, EurAsEC did not lead to more intensified trade relations. Russia also rarely supported economic cooperation within the SCO. Instead, Putin suggested establishing an energy club within the SCO framework. His idea was based on Russia’s interest in establishing a price coordination mechanism amid uncertainties in the development of gas and oil commercial relations among SCO members. Putin’s suggestion was a reaction to the growing energy cooperation between Kazakhstan and China. The Kazakh–Chinese pipeline, which came online in 2006, has been regarded as SCO’s main achievement. The pipeline and numerous other economic agreements within the SCO testified to the organization’s ability to still play a major economic role in the region despite Russia’s interference. The pipeline is also the first to go eastward and could potentially reach the Pacific, Japan and South Korea – while bypassing Russia. Nazarbayev’s assertive initiative has caused controversy within the region. Karimov harshly criticized CAU during a May 2008 bilateral meeting with Nazarbayev, raising resentment in Kazakh political circles. In particular, Karimov found the Union to be an inadequate initiative that failed to consider the different levels of economic development among the Central Asian states. He also reminded Nazarbayev that the EurAsEC already represents a regional institution of this sort: “I want to state right away that this initiative is unacceptable for Uzbekistan,” Karimov concluded. Karimov’s rebuke pointed at his disinterest in any initiative that would allow Kazakhstan to prevail on a regional scene. Unlike Karimov, Kyrgyz President Kurmanbek Bakiyev instantly agreed to pursue the CAU. Considering Kazakhstan’s already active participation in the SCO, Nazarbayevs’ CAU initiative confirms that Nazarbayev seeks greater regional autonomy. Importantly, by the mid-2000s, the Kazakh government had already recognized the region’s looming shortages of drinking water and the importance of water management in the region. Uzbekistan, the region’s largest consumer of water, became an important factor in Kazakhstan’s pursuit of effective water management, but Nazarbayev’s Central Asia Union was not able to provide a framework for trilateral cooperation among Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan due to disagreement on water regulations among three states. Following Russia’s military campaign in Georgia, the CAU became an increasingly attractive option for Kyrgyzstan, because Kazakhstan could indirectly shield Bakiyev from Moscow’s hegemony. Amid a severe energy crisis in the winter of 2008 and 2009 and double-digit inflation for food products, Bakiyev has been relying on Nazarbayev’s economic and political support ahead of presidential elections in 2010. However, nationalist MPs have expressed concern that Baikyev is opening up more channels for Kazakhstan’s investment in Kyrgyzstan, thus forcing the country into greater dependence on the larger neighbor.

A new regional order The merger of an initially military organ – the CSTO – with EurAsEC and Moscow’s intervention in national cultural and educational institutions, once again

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indicates that Russia has been able to achieve post-Soviet integration with the Central Asian states, Armenia and Belarus, thanks to successful military collaboration. This development mirrors similar processes in the 1920s, when Soviet nations were formed and military institutions were part of vigorous integration processes. Moscow’s persistent influence over the Central Asian states marks a trend of neo-internationalism, otherwise definable as neo-colonialism. As such, the legacy of Russian and Soviet military institutions has paved the way for other types of post-Soviet integration, including economic and cultural, although now such processes are conducted without open coercion or violence. Unlike during the 1920s and 1930s, the Central Asian states are already Russified, and cultural ties with Russia are strong. Central Asia is also still in many ways dependent on Moscow, especially in terms of the economy and labor migration. Importantly, the psychological connection with Moscow persists among Central Asian political leaders and societies. Moscow, therefore, no longer needs to create a new basis for fundamental education of indigenous peoples in order to spread its influence. However, Russia’s dominance in Central Asia is a form of neocolonialism that employs new instruments and new ideals. By emphasizing its historic role in Central Asia, Russia is once again influencing the region’s relations with the West. Likewise, for Central Asian military officials, the idea of military advancement is intimately interconnected to an alliance with Russia that, after all, created modern military institutions in the region less than a century ago. Furthermore, the Soviet military heritage continues to prevail in the territorial boundaries of military districts, the language of military documents and even national symbols. The Soviet leadership divided military districts on the same basis as other administrative units; that is, to better consolidate vertical power relations between the center and periphery. Military documents still contain concepts used during the Cold War, while army recruits are called to join the military on the basis of their patriotism for the Motherland. Even the image of an abstract external enemy and the concept of “collective security” elaborated as the CSTO’s underlying principle are Soviet modes of alignment. The growing distrust toward Western powers among post-Soviet political leaders assured the CSTO’s success in Central Asia. The dominance of Russian-language mass media in Central Asia indirectly cultivated anti-US sentiments among the populations in the region and maintained an appreciation of Russia’s continuing influence there. Political leaders in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan found that appeals for cooperation with Russia – as opposed to Western powers – resonated among the public. By trying to counterweight the growing influence of NATO institutions, the CSTO is essentially using Soviet instruments to unite its members on ideological grounds with Russia as the organization’s leader. CSTO officials frequently refer to the Soviet Union as an ideal type of cross-national integration and call for reconstructing a new version of the former Soviet Union. The Soviet past is treated as a beneficial experience, while Russia highly values the organization’s development, seeing it at times as the only viable medium through which it can continue to spread its political influence. In effect, besides reaching out to leaders through military

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cooperation, the CSTO was able to establish ideological hegemony within Central Asia.24

Conclusions The CSTO and SCO emerged almost simultaneously in 2001 and 2002 and both their membership and their activities have grown since then. While the CSTO increased the variety of military and security cooperation among its members, the SCO rapidly expanded its economic and energy links. CSTO activity peaked in 2007 and 2008, as its structures multiplied and military cooperation widened. Against this background, the SCO expanded energy ties among its members, positioning China as a competitive energy client in Central Asia. As the CSTO increases its military cooperation, the SCO’s military wing is likely to fade away. Both organizations have their own peculiar understanding of regional security. The CSTO prefers ideological hegemony among its members and deep consolidation in the security sector. While beginning as a military organization, it has been primarily driven by the common identity among its members, which allowed for further expansion of its functions beyond military cooperation. By contrast, the SCO began as a security organization to strengthen a common identity based on the abstract “Shanghai spirit” among its members. Both organizations invigorate and complement one another. The formation of both organizations inevitably influenced national governments in Central Asia. Cooperation jargon entered each state’s security lexicon, further defining their international position toward both alliances. The CSTO in particular began to increasingly show signs of indirect instruments of the Soviet regime in consolidating the nations. The CSTO quickly established a peculiar ideological hegemony over Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, and to a lesser degree Uzbekistan, understanding their conceptions of national and regional security and the means they choose to deal with them. Its CRRF are de facto able to function across members’ territories independent of any UN mandate, thus isolating CSTO territory from international intervention. The CSTO also showed that leverage over human migration from Central Asia to Russia is by far stronger compared to pipelines leading from the region to Central Asia. However, the organization is hardly known among the Russian public.

5

NATO and the West in Central Asia

Following the Batken conflicts in 1999 and 2000 and the September 11 terrorist attacks in the United States, Central Asian governments turned their focus toward repelling terrorism, religious radicalism and drug trafficking. Domestic, regional and international forces were available to assist them in reorienting their national security strategies toward combating small guerilla groups rather than interstate wars. At the national level, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan were actively downsizing while trying to increase professionalism. Regionally, Russia and China pushed forward their proposals to jointly respond to the emerging threats within a multilateral framework. At the international level NATO’s Operation “Enduring Freedom” campaign in Afghanistan inevitably affected the Central Asian states. Although NATO’s Partnership for Peace (PfP) program with the Central Asian states predated 9/11, the anti-terrorism campaign in Afghanistan gave it a fresh boost. The PfP in Central Asia aims at implementing military reform, increasing democratic oversight of armed forces, and increasing interoperability of Central Asian militaries with NATO and UN troops. By December 2001, US troops were stationed at military bases near Kyrgyzstan’s Manas airport and Uzbekistan’s Karshi-Khanabad base. Along with expanding its presence in Central Asia, NATO and several Western countries increased financial, technical and training support to the local armies. Kazakhstan, in particular, greatly expanded its ties with the Alliance at this time. But several years into the Afghan campaign, NATO and the Central Asian states realized that neither party was particularly interested in full-fledged engagement. Only Kazakhstan managed to reach interoperability with NATO and carried out reforms in the military facilitated by the PfP. Central Asian leaders were only interested in Western cooperation if it benefited the ruling regimes, while NATO was more focused on Afghanistan than engaging the entire region. As this chapter explains, efforts by NATO, the United States, and other Western states to engage the Central Asian states were often intermittent and ineffective, with both sides failing to seize opportunities for long-term cooperation. To a large extent, external events, such as Russia’s military campaign in Georgia and fluctuating insurgence in Afghanistan, predetermined the relationship between NATO and individual states.

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NATO engagement in Central Asia During the 1990s, the Taliban’s emergence in Afghanistan drew the international community’s attention to the Central Asian region. In December 1995 the UN and NATO facilitated the creation of a Central Asian Peacekeeping Battalion (CentrAsBat) with members drawn from the Central Asian militaries. CentrAsBat was designed to collectively repel insurgent movements threatening to spill over from Afghanistan into the region. When the Taliban occupied Kabul in 1997, Russia and the UN rushed to open peace talks in neighboring Tajikistan and urged the peace agreement between the government and the UTO. The September 11 attacks and NATO’s subsequent engagement in Afghanistan briefly opened a window of opportunity for cooperation between Russia and NATO, as Moscow established Russian military bases in Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. However, as NATO continued to expand further into the territory of the former Soviet Union, Moscow turned increasingly antagonistic.1 Although Russia continued to facilitate the NATO anti-terrorism campaign in Afghanistan, Moscow was not pleased with the US military presence in the Central Asian states. At the 2004 NATO summit in Istanbul the Alliance decided to pay greater attention to the Central Asian states by expanding PfP functions and strengthening the Partnership Action Plan on Defense Institution Building (PAP-DIB). PAP-DIB’s main objective is to implement domestic military reforms and achieve collective security across NATO states and its partners on the basis of shared democratic values. Activities related to the PAP-DIB included building multilateral cooperation in the military institutions across the Central Asian states, contributing to the greater democratization in the region.2 The UN appointed a Special Representative for the Caucasus and Central Asia of the NATO’s Secretary General to direct these efforts. The initiative was part of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) – NATO’s mission in Afghanistan established by the UN Security Council in December 2001. Like CentrAsBat, however, the PAP-DIB quickly lost its appeal outside Kazakhstan. The program had launched before NATO and the Central Asian governments clearly understood each other’s goals and interests. While Central Asian military officials complained about NATO’s abstract and often irrelevant assistance in reforming military institutions, the Alliance had difficulty engaging its Central Asian partners.3 Although several workshops were held with Kyrgyz military and civilian experts within the PAP-DIB framework and specialized handbooks on the democratic control of armed forces were published in local languages, the activities were not as frequent and productive as similar initiatives with the South Caucasus states, Moldova and Ukraine. Furthermore, domestic turbulence in Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan since the 2005 Tulip Revolution and Andijan massacre thwarted most attempts to hold PAP-DIB events. Aside from personal contacts between Central Asian military officials and their NATO counterparts, PAP-DIB had limited effect. More than five years into the NATO campaign in Afghanistan, the Alliance’s success remained dubious, and Central Asian leaders still feared that instability

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would spill over into their countries. This fear was reflected in military doctrines and public statements. NATO’s image throughout the region was particularly damaged during 2007 and 2008 due to prolonged instability in Afghanistan and under the heavy influence of the Russian media. Central Asian leaders were more inclined to focus on Afghanistan within the CSTO and SCO framework as opposed to pursuing greater integration with NATO. In 2008, shortly after the Russian military campaign in Georgia, Moscow initiated the creation of a 11,000-man peacekeeping force within the CSTO. The organization’s military build-up was primarily meant to counter threats from Afghanistan, but it nevertheless demonstrated Moscow’s dominance in Central Asia. In January 2006 Kazakhstan became the only Central Asian state to successfully implement its Individual Partnership Action Plan (IPAP) that further deepened bilateral cooperation with NATO. The IPAP paved the way for NATO’s further assistance to Kazakhstan in carrying out military reform, building naval forces on the Caspian Sea and reaching greater interoperability between the two sides. Furthermore, the five-year bilateral defense agreement between the United States and Kazakhstan signed in 2003 was renewed in 2008, bringing new prospects for collaboration. Kazakhstan’s defense budget for 2009 exceeded the amount of US assistance at $1,280,000,000 and $200,000, respectively.4 The number of joint activities in the defense sector more than doubled between 2002 and 2009. Yet, the mutual interest in cooperation between NATO and Central Asian states did not vanish completely, and the Presidents of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, Kazakh Defense Minister and Tajik Foreign Minister all attended the 2008 NATO summit in Bucharest to confirm their continued interest in the organization’s work. At the summit, Turkmen President Gurbanguly Berdymukhammedov met with US President George W. Bush to discuss future cooperation in the energy and transport sectors.

CentrAsBat One major PfP initiative in Central Asia was the Central Asian Battalion. Formed in December 1995 with US financing, CentrAsBat existed for six years. CentrAsBat’s goals of uniting the Central Asian forces to maintain stability in the region and achieve greater cooperation with the NATO forces were genuine, yet too ambitious. Neither goal has been achieved, with the partial exception of Kazakhstan. Although CentrAsBat disintegrated in the early 2000s, its efforts of establishing military-to-military cooperation in the region paved the way for the emergence of Russia and China-led joint forces. CentrAsBat united Kazakh, Kyrgyz and Uzbek forces under the US Central Command. Each provided one squadron for the battalion, and the Russian 201st Motor Rifle Division in Tajikistan provided troops as well. CentrAsBat carried out several large-scale military training exercises on the territories of its members and territories of NATO states with a hefty supply of US troops. The UN authorized the scenarios used for peacekeeping training, and high-ranking military officials from each country participated. The first CentrAsBat exercises were held in September

NATO and the West in Central Asia 107 1997 in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and included 40 men from Central Asia and 500 US troops. In 1998 CentrAsBat exercises took place in Chirchik, Uzbekistan and Osh, Kyrgyzstan. The US Army sent 160 soldiers from its 10th Mountain Division under the US Atlantic Command, the division deployed to the US KarshiKhanabad base after September 11.5 The battalion was the first step towards the formation of regional security blocs. The idea of small conflicts with non-state insurgents was still abstract for the Central Asian leaders and the wider public at the time of CentrAsBat’s formation. However, the February 1999 bombings in Tashkent and the Batken clashes in August that year changed the security equation throughout the region. Small insurgent groups able to challenge border guards and states’ internal troops turned into major security challenges. At the same time, the Central Asian governments criticized the battalion as an inefficient initiative because of its passive stance during both the Batken and Tashkent incidents.6 The 1990s were also the most strenuous period for all Central Asian militaries. The army personnel were insufficient in numbers, financing was inadequate, and professionalism among the officer ranks was lacking. Combined, all of these problems meant intractable shortages of personnel, resources and any motivation to participate in CentrAsBat. State leaders were also unsure of what benefits the battalion would bring and how it might advance their own interests. At the time of the battalion’s formation, its Central Asian members were still establishing their foreign policy priorities, and neither Russia nor China had shown any substantial interest in the states. On the contrary, the Central Asian states were more inclined to build ties with two members of NATO: Turkey and the United States. Despite the many CentraAsBat training exercises, the elite unit proved incapable of responding to regional threats. Azerbaijan, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Russia, Turkey and Uzbekistan participated in the 1998 exercises. In 2000 CentrAsBat trained in Almaty with the US 82nd Airborne and the US 5th Special Forces Group. The UK joined the 2000 drills in addition to veterans of the 1998 exercise. The 2000 CentrAsBat maneuvers took place in September amid clashes between Kyrgyz military and IMU guerillas. The Kyrgyz and Uzbek forces from CentrAsBat were subsequently deployed against the IMU, highlighting the importance and high standards of the initiative. But the CentrAsBat as a separate unit did not take part in resisting the IMU forces because of poor coordination among its members and inability to function without external command. This fact served as an indicator of a failure.7 CentrAsBat activities were often flawed by internal competition among the national units. Russian troops sought to outperform everyone, while competition between Kazakh and Uzbek officials corroded the battalion’s internal cohesion often over trivial matters.8 For example, the Uzbek political leadership preferred to act unilaterally in the Tajikistan civil war, mining the Uzbek–Tajik border but refusing to disclose the mine maps after the conflict ended.9 The last CentrAsBat joint training exercises were in September 2000. The initiative quickly faded after NATO decreased financing when the CentrAsBat showed limited ability to generate a regional security cooperation regime.

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Prior to September 11, the Central Asian states sought to develop CentrAsBat and increase their interoperability with NATO forces, but NATO was too preoccupied with the recent accession of new East European members to respond. NATO officials began to question the effectiveness of the PfP in Central Asia, as its size and the nature of its activities in the region were incompatible with other members of PfP. When NATO turned its attention elsewhere, the Central Asian leaders let the CentrAsBat initiative die, despite their previous enthusiasm. Instead, the Central Asian states participated in the CSTO and SCO exercises in the 2000s. However, the Central Asian states now also developed bilateral links with Western states. All, except Turkmenistan under President Saparmurat Niyazor, participated in joint exercises with EU members and the United States. Local military personnel were sent to the United States, Germany and France for training, and these countries continued to receive various types of support from the West such as uniforms and training technologies. NATO’s PfP was the leading security program linking the former Warsaw Pact states with Western security structures. Each Central Asian state is a member of PfP, but they received much less support than their western neighbors. As other former Soviet republics were invited to join NATO, Central Asia began to take a more negative view about NATO’s role in the region. The Russian-language mass media often reported on the difficulties Georgia and Ukraine faced in trying to attain membership. However, NATO’s own limited understanding of the lingering significance of Soviet-era ties in the military institutions between Russia and Central Asian states was partly to blame as well. For example, the Alliance did not understand that Kazakhstan considers military training in Russia to be far more prestigious than training in the West. NATO assumed that the Central Asian states were just as anxious to establish links with the West and to break away from the Soviet regime as were the Baltic states. Over time, Central Asian leaders downgraded their cooperation with NATO in favor of building greater coherence with the CSTO and SCO–organizations that carry far fewer demands for democratic reform of the armed forces.

Kazakhstan Kazakhstan is the only Central Asian country where NATO was able to achieve interoperability with the local military in peacekeeping operations. Starting in August 2003 Kazakhstan deployed its peacekeeping battalion, KazBat, to Afghanistan under the Polish command. The battalion’s main function included de-mining, medical help to local citizens, and professional training of Iraqi government troops.10 KazBat was formed with US assistance and proved to be the highwater mark of Kazakh–US military relations. Its 29 men were professional servicemen from Kazakhstan’s Special Forces and 35th Air Assault Brigade.11 KazBat’s achievements were widely reported in Kazakhstan’s media, but regarded skeptically by Russian military experts. Kazakhstan was suspected of prioritizing its cooperation with NATO at the expense of its ties with Russia. When President Karimov terminated the US and NATO presence in Uzbekistan due to criticism over Andijan, in summer 2005, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and their

NATO and the West in Central Asia 109 role within ISAF were thrust into the spotlight. Simultaneously, Kazakhstan’s relations with NATO through IPAP also affected the political domain. IPAP increased parliament’s control over the military institutions, encouraged improvements in the human rights situation in the army and emphasized the importance of scientific research in the defense sector.12 Former defense minister Mukhtar Altynbayev led Kazakhstan’s efforts to establish ties with NATO and improve democratic control of Kazakhstan’s armed forces. However, his primary concern was to protect the Nazarbayev regime, and he placed the armed forces on standby during the December 2006 presidential elections.13 More than two years into the IPAP, Kazakhstan’s ties with NATO had improved significantly and it began to overshadow Uzbekistan in regional significance. Kazakhstan’s increased cooperation with NATO coincided with its improved economic cooperation with the EU states. In 2005 the EU became Kazakhstan’s largest export partner.14 The EU is also Kazakhstan’s primary direct investor, owning over 40 percent of the shares in Kazakh companies in 2005. As Kazakhstan’s economy boomed until the mid 2000s, Nazarbayev’s drive to diversify international economic cooperation prompted him to encourage greater EU involvement. Kazakhstan’s struggle for the OSCE chairmanship was likely part of a larger strategy to enhance the country’s international status. Nazarbayev’s efforts to maintain a balance in his foreign policy reverberated elsewhere in the region as well. The leader’s reluctance to support Russia’s recognition of South Ossetia and Abkhazia’s independence at the SCO summit in Dushanbe in August 2008 clearly damaged the organization’s internal cohesion, revealing cleavages between its strongest members – Russia and China. Beijing refused to accept Russia’s use of rhetoric of “genocide” and “ethnic cleansing” in accordance to the Georgian government’s policies in its breakaway territories. But Nazarbayev also gave hope to President Kurmanbek Bakiyev of Kyrgyzstan and other Central Asian leaders that they could also maintain a more balanced East–West policy despite Russian pressure. The ruling elite of Kyrgyzstan, which held the CIS chair when the Russian–Georgian conflict occurred, were nervous about the CSTO and CIS summits held in Bishkek in the fall of 2008 where Russian President Dmitry Medvedev was expected to pressure Bishkek to recognize Georgia’s breakaway territories. Prior to the SCO summit, the Bakiyev government had followed Russian foreign policy directives unconditionally, including voicing disapproval of Kosovo’s independence or voting against Ukraine’s WTO membership. But Bakiyev was also Nazarbayev’s loyal disciple, endorsing the Kazakh leader’s Central Asia Union and his numerous economic initiatives. As with Georgia, Kazakh investment in Kyrgyzstan increases every year. But beyond Kazakhstan’s reaction to Russia’s military campaign in Georgia, NATO’s increased engagement with the Central Asian states did not prompt significant political or economic change outside Kazakhstan. Likewise, NATO’s presence did not facilitate foreign direct investment or detach the Central Asian states from Russia’s pervasive influence. The Kazakh president, in turn, maintained a balanced approach to his collaboration with NATO and Russia. While

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boosting relationships in both directions, Kazakh officials have rejected any notion of joining the Atlantic Alliance or stationing US military on its territory. But at the same time, the Kazakh government also has sought to play a leading role within the SCO.

Kyrgyzstan When President Askar Akayev allowed the US and NATO military to use Kyrgyzstan’s Manas airport at the start of the Afghan war, local pundits speculated that the president would not be able to “sit on two chairs” at once, believing it would be impossible to maintain cooperative relations with both Russia and the West. Contrary to expectations, both Akayev and Bakiyev continued cooperation with the US, retaining the military base despite pressure exuded by the CSTO. But management of the Manas airport turned into a highly lucrative source of revenue, thanks to the payments associated with the military base. During the Akayev era, the President’s son Aidar reportedly pocketed the revenue from the base by using offshore companies. Shortly after coming to power in March 2005 Bakiyev faced a dilemma: how to establish his own control over the economy, including the Manas airport, while dealing with Moscow’s pressure to limit the US presence. Sensing potential changes in the status of the US forces at Manas airport, US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld visited Kyrgyzstan twice in 2005, insisting that the Manas base promotes mutually beneficial cooperation against terrorism. Rumsfeld increased annual rental payment for the base from $2 million to $150 million. Kyrgyzstan’s ties to China and the SCO have grown considerably since then, while the Western military installation survived the change of regimes in Bishkek. With the spike in income from the base, Bakiyev muted his criticism, but members of his government continued to sporadically question its legitimacy. Public perceptions of the Manas base, however, changed radically after a US serviceman killed a civilian employee, a Kyrgyz citizen, in December 2006. The pro-Russian mass media inflamed public anger over the incident, and several journalists and NGO leaders tried to mobilize movements to shut down the base. In a matter of weeks most Kyrgyz political officials shifted gears and began to criticize the US military presence in the country. Amid this information battle, rumors saturated Kyrgyzstan’s mass media outlets that Washington could use the base to attack Iran. Some local experts speculated on the subsequent repercussions in Kyrgyzstan. Other reasons listed by opponents of the US military base included Kyrgyzstan’s damaged image in the SCO and CSTO. Public discussions about the shooting incident moved beyond a mere diplomatic spat between the Kyrgyz government and the US embassy and turned into a central theme about looming “Western hegemony” over Kyrgyzstan.15 The death of the Kyrgyz citizen thus united most anti-US forces in Kyrgyzstan. The country’s political establishment raised every possible argument to question the rationale for the US base, including potential environmental damage from base operations. For instance, in summer 2006, the Kyrgyz Foreign Ministry expelled two US diplomats for their alleged involvement in Kyrgyz domestic issues. This act

NATO and the West in Central Asia 111 was possibly the Kyrgyz government’s attempt to please Russia before the G-8 summit in St. Petersburg in August. Local civil society activists recalled previous cases of unprofessional behavior by US soldiers in Kyrgyzstan and elsewhere, including the prisoner abuse scandals at Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo. That such a shift in public opinion was masterminded by the media and political actors was evident from how one incident was reported and the implications drawn from it. The vast majority of Kyrgyzstan’s mass media outlets are published and broadcast in the Russian language. The Kyrgyz government heavily controls channel KTR, which is the only media outlet that broadcasts across the entire country. About a dozen Russian TV channels enjoy widespread popularity in Bishkek, the Kyrgyz capital. Russian ORT and RTR are widely watched in Bishkek, where more than 20 percent of Kyrgyzstan’s five million residents live. Most Kyrgyz get their international news reports from these two channels. Since most Russian mass media outlets, especially state-run ORT and RTR, usually promulgate pro-Kremlin views, the Kyrgyz public’s perception of world affairs are similar to those held by Russian citizens. The Russian mass media was especially successful in building pro-Kremlin attitudes toward the US-led wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the color revolutions in Georgia and Ukraine, and the war in Chechnya. They also propagate Vladimir Putin’s image as a strong-minded, pragmatic politician. As a result, the Kyrgyz public trusts Russian policies in Kyrgyzstan and Central Asia far more than Western involvement. Although from the mid 2000s, Kyrgyzstan’s political and business elites could no longer ignore the role of the US in international affairs, these were exactly the military officials who continued to vehemently support both the CIS and the CSTO. The military brass generally supported Medvedev and Putin’s campaign in Georgia. Like the Russian leaders, they also believed in the righteousness of Russian policies and the West’s desire to destabilize Russia through proxy wars in Georgia. Although Bakiyev refrained from making any statements supporting Russia or condemning the West, several Kyrgyz military officials eagerly publicized their strong, pro-Moscow opinions. Most career military officials had been educated in Russia and value the extensive network developed during their military education under or following the Soviet regime. Former Kyrgyz Security Council secretary Miroslav Niyazov also has criticized the SCO for failing to establish an international balance in the Caucasus by supporting Russia.16 Furthermore, military officials with experience in the Soviet war in Afghanistan were inclined to compare Russia’s military campaign in Georgia with that conflict. According to this view, Russia had to confront the West’s proxy war in Georgia, which was intended to undermine Russia’s internal stability. Kyrgyz and Central Asian military officials, thus, genuinely believed in the fact that the CIS and CSTO constituted a final opportunity to restore justice in the Caucasus.

Tajikistan and Turkmenistan In 2002 Tajikistan became the last of the Central Asian countries to join PfP, and its ties with the Alliance remain rather feeble today. Along with Kyrgyzstan and

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Uzbekistan, in November 2001 Tajikistan allowed the use of the Kulyab airport, while Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan granted overflight rights and refueling permission to NATO forces en route to Afghanistan. The United States is Tajikistan’s biggest military donor, providing over $50 million in assistance each year linked to overflight rights. However, aside from Tajikistan’s agreement to provide strategic units for the ISAF operations in Afghanistan and NATO-organized summer academies, the Alliance has had limited contact with the Tajik government. Dushanbe has declared its wish to democratize control over its defense sector and called for international support, but has done little since 2002. Although Turkmenistan was the first Central Asian country to become a PfP member in 1994, joint activities were seldom carried out, because Turkmenbashi declared his country to be neutral. Only after the death of Turmenbashi in late 2006 did Turkmenistan begin to open up to foreign partnerships and begin to “diversify” its neutrality status. President Berdymukhammedov welcomed both the EU’s strategy in Central Asia developed under the German presidency (January–June 2007) and greater integration with the SCO. Turkmenistan agreed to provide assistance to NATO operations in emergency cases and several Turkmen Armed Forces personnel trained in NATO schools. High-level official meetings noticeably increased in 2007 and 2008, with Berdymukhammedov attending the April 2008 Budapest summit, where he met with US President George W. Bush. Berdymukhammedov’s interest in establishing contacts with the United States, EU and NATO, may primarily be to diversify the energy exports market beyond Russia and Central Asia. While meeting with Bush and EU leaders to discuss the Nabucco project, Berdymukhammedov also brokered a 2007 deal with China on building an eastward pipeline transiting Kazakhstan under the aegis of the SCO. While exploring possibilities for energy cooperation, the Turkmen leader refrained from offering national military infrastructure for the NATO operations in Afghanistan.

Uzbekistan President Islam Karimov maintained a multi-vectored foreign cooperation, signing a Partnership Cooperation Agreement with the EU and hosting the SCO’s anti-terrorism office in Tashkent, while negotiating to establish a PfP center on Uzbekistan’s territory. Tashkent welcomed the stationing of US and NATO troops at Karshi-Khanabad (K2) in October to December 2001. Because of its location and transport links to Afghanistan, Uzbekistan is key in the US and NATO antiterrorism campaign and the wider region amid Taliban resurgence and Iran’s strained relations with the United States. The base came with significant US economic and military assistance–by 2002 US security assistance to Uzbekistan had reached roughly $230 million, with another $350 million coming in aid. At the same time, Washington toned down its criticism of Karimov’s authoritarianism as it developed bilateral security cooperation. The increased assistance and milder criticism of Karimov helped strengthen his regime at home.17 While loosening control over fiscal policy in the country and allowing international NGOs to operate within its territory, the Uzbek government became increasingly intolerant of

NATO and the West in Central Asia 113 opposition groups. Uzbek security forces enhanced their capacity, while the regime ruthlessly persecuted unwanted political and economic forces under the banner of the anti-terrorism campaign. The Uzbek regime had already tightened its control over opposition forces following a series of bombings in Tashkent and Bukhara in March and April 2004. Karimov blamed religious extremists for instigating the clashes that left 47 civilians dead. The IMU and Hizb-ut-Tahrir in particular were blamed, leading to a fresh wave of arrests and persecutions. As the country’s human rights reputation deteriorated, the US government cancelled $18 million of aid to Uzbekistan, while Russia and China rushed to offer their help in combating terrorism by developing regional rapid-reaction forces.18 However, the financial and political support did not prevent Karimov from breaking the contract with the US government and evicting US and NATO troops from the K2 base in July 2005, less than two months after the Andijan massacre. The US and EU criticized Karimov’s regime for violence against the civilian population, while the Uzbek government prohibited any independent investigation of the events. The Andijan tragedy was also followed by a crackdown on international and local NGOs, stricter visa regimes, persecution of opposition figures and cadre reshuffles in the security structures. Watchdog groups such as Human Rights Watch claimed that Uzbek government troops had killed hundreds of civilians,19 while reports by some Western analysts insist that several dozen terrorists were killed.20 The US side expressed little regret over withdrawing from Uzbekistan and within three years the Uzbek leadership showed an interest in restoring relations with the Western partners. Karimov, for example, participated in the NATO summit in Bucharest in April 2008 where he spoke in favor of expanding the US military presence at the Termez base, already being used by the limited German contingent. Karimov emphasized his concerns over the situation in Afghanistan and his readiness to work with the ISAF.21 But cooperation between the US and Uzbekistan was restoring slowly because Tashkent continued to refuse international investigation of the Andijan massacre, while its economic and political ties with Moscow grew stronger. Owning to Moscow approval of his actions in Andijan, Karimov could face pressure from CSTO for allowing US military presence.

NATO and EU Part of the PfP’s lack of substantial results in Central Asian can be explained by NATO’s geographical distance from the region. Similarly, the EU was widely criticized for disregarding the Central Asian region in its European Neighborhood Policy (ENP). Since the 1990s, Germany was the only member state actively engaged in the region due to over 500,000 ethnic German minorities living in Central Asia. The situation improved somewhat in 2002, when the EU Commission adopted a “Strategy for Central Asia” following the September 11 terrorist attacks in the United States. In June 2005 an EU Special Representative for Central Asia was appointed, facilitating the EU’s engagement in the region. The European

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Commission passed an Assistance Strategy in April 2007, and the European Parliament adopted the Central Asia Strategy in February 2008 alongside the ENP. Before the EU Strategy in Central Asia was launched, the EU had elaborate contacts with Russia, Ukraine and South Caucasus, but ignored Central Asia. The EU had rather been a passive observer of Central Asian developments, including NATO and the US’s military presence there. Germany’s efforts in formulating the EU Strategy in Central Asia and directing the EU members’ attention toward the Central Asian region within the ENP framework became one of its major successes during its term as EU president. Together with the EU Special Representative for Central Asia, Pierre Morel, and a number of individual political leaders, when it held the EU Presidency, Germany was able to effectively engage all EU members in the debate over its Strategy and its consequent endorsement. European and Central Asian experts have been divided in their assessments of the EU Strategy’s success. Some argue that the EU’s approach is overwhelmingly ideological with excessive (and idealistic) emphasis on human rights and democracy, while others conclude that the EU has actually been playing realpolitik to gain access to Turkmenistan’s gas deposits. Indeed, to date, the Strategy has produced only two results: economic cooperation with Kazakhstan and a limited deal to export 10 billion cubic meters of Turkmen gas through the Nabucco pipeline in 2009. High-level exchanges between Turkmenistan and the EU are unprecedented. Against this background, however, EU cooperation with Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, as well as Uzbekistan, has remained somewhat in the shadow. It still remains unclear how the EU will maintain a balance between its valuesbased traditions in building foreign relations and its strategic interests in Central Asian gas reserves. The issue of its ability in achieving greater economic cooperation and a better human rights situation there, as well as navigating among other international actors in the region, will also remain paramount. Skeptics argue that the budgeted €750 million ($1.18 billion) is far too little for such ambitious plans. Yet, following the examples of Kazakhstan, Georgia and Ukraine, stronger ties with the EU could pave the way for cooperation with NATO as well.

Conclusions The Central Asian states’ readiness to cooperate with the United States and NATO following September 11 was unprecedented. However, the US presence in the region soon became a source of domestic political problems. Karimov’s ouster of the K2 base in July 2005 marked a turning point in the rest of the region. Bakiyev sought greater support from CSTO and SCO leaders while occasionally intimidating US diplomats and allowing the rise of anti-US moods in the public. Berdymukhammedov began a gradual opening toward cooperation with the EU and Washington, while remaining open to collaboration with Russia. Amid these foreign policy changes, the democratic record continued to worsen in each Central Asian state. The Central Asian leaders, thus, used foreign policy to prop up their own regimes. Both Bakiyev and Karimov were willing to participate in the antiterrorism campaign in a rhetorical sense alone, and their heads were turned by the

NATO and the West in Central Asia 115 possibility of more lucrative and stable support from Moscow or Beijing. The leaders, along with Tajikistan’s President Emomali Rakhmon, continued to enhance security structures to meet the challenges of their regimes as opposed to the population or regional instabilities. Nazarbayev moved to get the Kazakh military involved in international peacekeeping efforts. His enthusiasm toward integration with NATO was commensurate to the country’s economic cooperation with the US and EU. For Kazakhstan, ultimately, closer cooperation with NATO signified the greater stability of its economy and reliability of its government. In short, the reform of the national armed forces contributed to Kazakhstan’s positive image internationally, while the lack of similar reforms hurt its Central Asian neighbors.

6

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military

National ideologies venerating historic heroes While veterans of the Soviet–Afghan war never became popular heroes in the independence period, the Central Asian governments found new heroes in traditional myths or pre-Soviet history. In place of the Soviet socialist-realist genre dedicated to a military theme, the Central Asian states have begun a new historical narrative that highlights the qualities of a national hero. But the means of producing and distributing such propaganda narratives remain similar to those of the Soviet regime. That is, a central government institution created and coordinated the spread of such narratives. While these narratives may or may not be directly taught at military institutions, the defense sector nevertheless functions within the context of these narratives. They revise the meaning of patriotism among citizens, linking independence, statehood and sovereignty. Since gaining independence in 1991, each Central Asian state has used official ideologies as a crucial element of the state-building process. Official ideologies helped the Central Asian regimes centralize national governments and reinforce popular and international recognition of their legitimacy. By constructing and transmitting matrices of recognizable ideas, values and images throughout the post-Soviet period, ruling regimes have consciously sought to develop ideologies to help position themselves domestically and regionally. Ideologies were as important to reinforcing the ruling elites’ soft powers as reforming state institutions such as elections, ministries and presidential power. But although ideologies were filled with ethnocentric content, they continued to be deeply intertwined with historic military themes. All Central Asian states are multi-ethnic, but official ideologies promoted patriotic feelings intermixed with ethno-nationalism. In rough terms, Central Asian leaders mixed two layers of local identities – the Soviet and national – into one that prioritizes the titular ethnicity, seeking to unite it within itself. President Nazarbayev promoted Kazakh ethnicity amid great ethnic diversity in Kazakhstan; Kyrgyzstan has had extensive experience with civic-based and ethnocentric ideologies; Tajikistan has focused attention on its proud Aryan heritage; Uzbekistan has venerated the cult of Amir Timur, while Turkmenistan has its Ruhnama, a book claiming to contain the values of all Turkmens. In Kyrgyzstan the Manas epic replaced the cults of Mikhail Frunze and Felix Dzerzhinsky, while Amir Timur and

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 117 Turkmenbashi supplanted Alexander Suvorov and Mikhail Kutuzov. Regime incumbents recognized the value of verbal and physical constructions of these ideologies as they rushed to create an overarching post-Soviet political identity. However, in the process they often disregarded the human and civic rights of political and religious movements and ethnic minorities. After the communist regime disintegrated, local leaders began to rename the streets of large cities after historical heroes. Statues of Baatyrs (vividly drawn historical male warriors) from a variety of periods – from pre-Islamic to Soviet – were erected as landmarks in all of the Central Asian capitals. Likewise, the national ideologies developed in the post-Soviet period constantly refer to specific historical heroes. All Central Asian state institutions reflect the dominant culture and the “important history” of the Central Asian peoples. All national ideologies reference a national defender nominated by the state. Like the “golden ages” of national prosperity and the “glory of the homeland” now celebrated in every Central Asian president’s speeches, the legends of national “favorite sons” depict the qualities and virtues of a decidedly male national defender. By constructing ideologies and promoting historic figures, Central Asian ruling elites defined the boundaries of the titular ethnic group, often equating the titular group with the entire citizenry of the state. These ethnic boundaries also coincide with the states’ physical boundaries. In both Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, the presidents have praised historic figures who occupied territories beyond the countries’ present borders. According to this logic, threat perceptions are constructed by Table 6.1 Ideological projects in Central Asia in the post-Soviet period Country

Main ideological projects Description

Kazakhstan

Abylaikhan (a myriad of other khans);

Altyn Adam

Kyrgyzstan

Manas

Tajikistan

Ismail Samani

Turkmenistan Ruhnama

Uzbekistan

Amir Timur (Tamerlane)

Khan of a middle zhuz (main territorial division in Kazakhstan) (1771–1781) who was able to unify Kazakhs from two other zhuzs, promote Kazakh independence from the Russian empire and resist the Chinese Qing dynasty. A legend developed after the golden uniform of an unknown warrior (dating back to the third or fourth century BC) was excavated near Almaty in 1969. The main hero from the Manas oral epic who fought for the unity and independence of the Kyrgyz. Ruler of Bukhara (874) and Mawarannahr (888–907), centralized government and strengthened the Samanid dynasty. Two-volume book depicting views of the late Turkmen leader Saparmurat Niyazov Turkmenbashi on the history, statehood, tradition and individual behavior of all Turkmens. Conqueror of Western and Central Asia, founder of the Timurid empire (1336–1405).

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considering security threats that are potentially harmful to the titular ethnic group, not the entire population.1 The titular ethnic group is amply represented in the army, while ethnic minorities populate the lower ranks. Although a modern army should not necessarily reflect the ethnic composition of the population, there is a strong tendency for the army to become an ethnocentric institution. Often the security concerns of smaller ethnic groups are ignored or used in national interests. Following the civil war, for example, Tajikistan’s military is predominantly comprised of Tajiks, despite the large number of Uzbeks living in the country. In Kazakhstan, the presence of legally registered organizations promoting Uighur separatism influences Chinese–Kazakh relations by indicating Astana’s rebuke of Beijing’s territorial claims on the region. Besides being part of broader national ideological projects, a cohesive historical narrative about a national defender plays an important part in the new state’s attempts to create a contemporary soldier united with his compatriots on the basis of shared cultural values and objects of loyalty. While accessible to the general public, narratives on national defenders are especially praised at military and education institutions, where they promote cultural values relevant to military service and military institutions. As the heroes-internationalists of World War II inspired Afghan veterans in the 1980s, national ethnocentric baatyrs are now at the center of civic and military education in Central Asia. This chapter examines the relationship between narratives about primordial heroes and archetypes of the post-Soviet soldier. Both phenomena are normative elaborations primarily driven by the state as a part of broader policies on post-Soviet nationalism. The relationship between ideologies and nationalism can be direct or subtle, appearing in new medals, literature on national military histories and presidential speeches. Thus, the chapter has two main goals. First, it will examine how Central Asian political elites’ new ideas on nationhood become embedded in military institutions. Second, it shows how military institutions promote nationalist indoctrination among the masses. By encouraging the widespread dissemination of cohesive narratives about vividly drawn historical heroes, state elites seek to link contemporary army recruits with historical predecessors who fought for unity, integrity and national dominance. These narratives are intended to tame any internal divisions within the dominant ethnic group, but instead are reduced to ethnocentric ideas of protecting the particular cultural community identified with the narrative, as opposed to all citizens. State elites reinforce the significance of military service by titular ethnic group in accordance with their own political interests. Narratives about a national defender articulate what political elites expect from military service but cannot specify in official policy documents due to their open ethnocentric grip. Thus, the Central Asian states retained the Soviet practice of cultivating patriotism as the basis for the army’s internal discipline, but introduced primordial characters and characteristics.

Soviet methods, local content Official ideologies distanced the Central Asian states from their communist past, but they were, nonetheless, greatly influenced by the Soviet legacy of institutionalized

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 119 nationalism. Central Asian ruling elites crafted national ideologies according to a combination of historical narratives and their own political and economic interests.2 Central Asian states inherited ready-made templates for imagining the new state and nation and filled them with new, often deeply ethnocentric, content. Likewise, inherited geographical divisions, interpretations of national culture, and nationalpolitical institutions were used to strengthen the position of titular ethnicities while simultaneously marginalizing ethnic minorities. Military institutions, as well as the education sector, continued to play an important role in ideological indoctrination, but now shifted from Soviet ideals to more ethnocentric references. According to Morris Janowitz, the military is an especially important agent of change in postcolonial societies: ... the army becomes a device for developing a sense of identity – a social psychological element of national unity – which is especially crucial for a nation which has suffered because of colonialism and which is struggling to incorporate diverse ethnic and tribal groups.3 Even if state ideologies do not incorporate any images with direct military connotations, ethnocentric ideologies inevitably subvert military reform. Against the background of such ideologies, the military is not trained to participate in international peacekeeping activities but set to defend the nation and the titular ethnic group. This leaves little incentive to accept NATO and international NGOs’ assistance to increase interoperability with UN and the Alliance’s troops. Ethnocentric ideologies also avert inter-state cooperation and building trust among neighboring nations. The previous chapters showed that Central Asian states inherited Sovietstructured militaries. While the military hierarchy reflected Soviet perceptions of military security, the ideological basis of the military and its relationship to the ruling regime remained intact, only the regime changed. Parallels can be drawn with other Soviet state institutions that have traditionally served as venues for disseminating official ideologies and propaganda, such as education, healthcare, and recreation. States employ symbolic aspects of the military in various ways. Political elites in young states emphasize the most successful experiences of the past by highlighting positive and powerful historical images as a basis to generalize about the titular ethnicity’s potential.4 If the titular ethnic group had successfully taken up arms to preserve or defend its integrity, these instances became cause for celebration. The Manas epic in Kyrgyzstan and Amir Timur (Tamerlane) are examples of such glorification. Contemporary leaders have selectively adapted historical experiences to omit gloomy eras and accentuate the most optimistic moments.5 In recent years Kyrgyz and Kazakh historians and politicians have investigated the devastating human loss caused by Tsarist recruitment in Central Asia during World War I. However, the formation of the Soviet Army, as well as other social and political reforms in the region, are often viewed in a positive light by military officials. The military element of the Soviet regime dominated virtually all aspects of local life, but it is difficult to find detailed accounts of how it influenced state

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building in the 1920s and 1930s. The impact of the military on everyday life is not as easily measured and understood as, for instance, the impact of collectivization, Russification, or women’s emancipation. Although at times radical and contradictory, the official ideologies created in the early years of independence will have a long-lasting effect on the public and private domains. As with the internationalist ideas promulgated by the Soviet Union in the 1920s and 30s, the national ideologies of the 1990s and 2000s represent a foundation for state and nation-building. They will be a reference point when future ruling elites interpret independence, nationalism, and citizenship. The ideas and images promulgated by the incumbent regimes have penetrated contemporary discourse and will continue shaping the identities of the Central Asian peoples, although they might lose their initial connotations.

Imagined heroes from an imagined past Throughout 70 years of communism, Soviet authors were systematically mobilized to write on military topics to foster Soviet patriotism.6 Teams of Soviet writers promoted the “spirit” of Soviet patriotism, the communist people, and their limitless love for “our Socialist Motherland” as a way to prepare young Soviet men to defend their country.7 The ideological zeal behind the literary works ignored any shortcomings among the military, while praising high moral qualities and teaching soldiers about their responsibility to fulfill their Party and military duties.8 Military topics saturated Soviet art, literature, architecture and music during and after World War II. Finding subject matter for military prose was not difficult, as most of the authors had served in the army themselves: “Soviet literature created great images of the great heroes of the Revolution and the war.”9 In the late 1970s, however, when memories of the Great Patriotic War began to fade, it became more difficult to find “effective” themes. The focus shifted from honoring war heroes to praising technological advances by Soviet military engineers. After the Soviet invasion in Afghanistan, the focus once again shifted to the Soviet troops fighting abroad. The Soviet media glorified the Fortieth Army’s heroism and bravery in supporting communist forces in Afghanistan. The military remains central to instilling patriotic values in Central Asia, but now such training emphasizes the titular ethnic group. Although new national military institutions are vivid evidence of the states’ desire to distance themselves from the Soviet past, Central Asian leaders continue to use the same Soviet tools to cultivate patriotism, for new national heroes created by local academicians and political elites.10 For example, the concept “patriot of the motherland,” mentioned in the fundamental oath of the Soviet Army, has been transformed and adapted to modern times – service remains significant, but the identity of the “motherland” and “fatherland” have changed.11 Instead of a Soviet soldier defending the USSR against foreign aggressors, modern soldiers protect their homeland from external and internal threats. As illustrated later in this chapter, patriotism has been equated with affection and respect for the nation, but equating the nation with a specific ethnic group discriminates against cadres with non-titular ethnic backgrounds. In Uzbekistan, for instance, ethnic

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 121 Uzbeks are informally granted better opportunities for career advancement in the military as well as other sectors irrespective of their level of professionalism.12 Anyone who questions the validity and accuracy of official interpretations of national history are considered to be erroneous, because they do not accept the state-promulgated ideas. With conflicting interpretations of the Soviet heritage, the leaders of Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Kazakhstan sought out national heroes disconnected from Soviet or, more precisely, Russian influence. For instance, Karimov openly refers to Russia’s pervasive influence on Uzbekistan in the twentieth century as “colonialism,” hinting at the unequal nature of the relationship between Russians and the indigenous peoples.13 In Turkmenistan, Niyazov reframed Soviet rule as a gloomy era with unwanted legacies that should be eradicated. In Kazakhstan Nazarbayev identifies Russian Tsarist and Soviet rule as a “people’s prison” or “devastating demographic stabs” where every nationality, including Russians, was equally oppressed by the communist regime.14 In contrast, Kyrgyz and Tajik leaders emphasize the importance of their shared history with Russia and its positive implications for the present. Unlike Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan with stronger economies, both Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan remained reliant on Russian economic and political support during the independence. The Central Asian peoples can find a broad range of historical heroes who fought to protect their native lands and people. The biggest challenge that Central Asian scholars have encountered in writing books about national heroes is that no contemporary ethnic group in the region had a clearly defined territory or recognized statehood in pre-Soviet times. Before the Soviet regime, the Central Asian population was divided into khanates comprised of clans and tribes that were subject to continuous reshaping, regrouping and partition. Likewise, many of these sub-divisions within ethnic groups, especially among nomadic people, had their own unique tales of historical heroism. Despite centuries of interconnected histories among the Central Asian peoples, there is no single story told twice by the region’s political elites. Instead, national characters depicted in ideologies seem to have been developed disjointedly and divergently from the pre-Soviet period. In addition to differences among state narratives on national heroism, political elites have chosen to emphasize different historical epochs. Political leaders have developed a post-Soviet literature on national heroism and military genesis in the Central Asian states by emphasizing a unique ethnicity compared with neighboring nations. In Tajikistan, for example, secular and religious political actors have developed competing interpretations of the same historical era. Both Tajik President Emomali Rakhmon and the religious opposition refer to the cult of Ismaili Samani. The government emphasizes the importance of Tajik statehood during the Samani period (819–999), while the opposition interprets that era as a peak of Islam for the Tajiks.15 In Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, states with more open political systems, there are debates between academic and political circles on the importance of particular historical aspects that could serve as prototypes in today’s ideologies.16 The existence of multiple prototypes indicated a decentralized discourse about military history and history in general.

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Interpretive pluralism about historical experiences may be supported and expanded by the academic community. Kazakhstan, for example, has rich academic studies of historical narratives on national military traditions. Despite such pluralism in ideas about national heroes, there is no single dominant ancestor; rather, scholars have written about a myriad of genuine baatyrs who mastered the art of nomadic national security needs. In Kyrgyzstan, there is a mixed situation of both competition and complementary historical knowledge. In the 1990s, Kyrgyz political elites tried to promote a number of historical figures, such as Baitik, Shabdan baatyr, Semetei and Seitek. But when President Akayev tried to promote Manas, a semi-mythic hero from an eponymous epic narration, he failed to gather support from non-Kyrgyz citizens and urban residents. Such dynamics in the interpretation of historical knowledge do not prevent an ethnocentric definition of state nationalism. Although Kazakh and Kyrgyz political elites did not promote ethnic nationalism as insistently as their counterparts in Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, the discourse nevertheless maintained the hierarchy of titular ethnicities over minorities. Primordial heroes always defend the nation and nationalism, and they represent an ideological element of state power to galvanize soldiers to defend the state against foreign and domestic threats.17 State elites seek to link a contemporary conscript with his historical predecessors, but the link often risks fusing with ethnocentric ideas of protecting the cultural community identified with the narrative, as opposed to a collective civic entity within state borders. Some of the more extreme narratives try to drum up patriotism by comparing the national soldier with a national historical hero from a time when the nation prospered or perhaps occupied greater territories. For instance, the Samanid dynasty spread beyond the modern Tajik territory, while Amir Timur occupied areas surpassing those of current Central Asia. Such a comparison is captured in the new state-funded literature, official speeches and emblems. Each Central Asian president has authored a book describing the magnitude of historic heroes. These new publicized narratives included or excluded certain traits of a soldier, including ethnicity, physical characteristics, class, gender, tribal identities and ideas about masculine qualities. Depending on which group is emphasized, adding an ethnic slant to historical narratives may focus troops on a broader identity and eliminate tensions based on sub-group politicization. For instance, politicization is averted among groups not represented by the ruling elite. In the Central Asian context, a soldier from Osh would identify himself with the Bishkek command during times of instability at the Kyrgyz southern frontier; a militiaman from Samarkand will know that he is linked to Ferghana and Tashkent security structures while executing orders from central command. Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan have made the most progress in disseminating the idea of nationalism, including narratives about national defenders. Thanks to considerable economic resources, these states could encourage the publication of various books about national historical heroism in both titular and Russian languages. In contrast, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, although having developed heroic ideals, lag behind their economically advanced neighbors in promoting nationalism.

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 123 As writing national histories became a strategic national issue, competing interpretations of history from academic and political communities emerged: some claimed as illegitimate, others as expressions of patriotism. Historical revision became a deeply political process, as ruling elites controlled efforts to shape the discourse about important historic moments, at times by putting pressure on the academic community. The discourse inevitably reflected the ruling elites’ political interests, and they lack academic objectivism or acknowledgement of alternative interpretations of history. Narratives were shaped by a desire to favor or exclude particular social groups.18 Narratives about national defenders are aimed at erasing sub-ethnic and inter-clan characteristics by replacing them with broader ones that reinforce the sovereignty of a titular nation. New heroes exemplify the titular nationality as heroes who have fought for the unity and glory of the nation.

Ideal national defender v. ideal military reform By the late twentieth century, Western military organizations transformed their military personnel from patriotic conscripts to professional soldiers.19 This mindset puts an emphasis on material compensation rather than ideology. As state administrative capacities widen, nationalism diminishes and culture and history are no longer the primary factors of national identity. Ethnic feelings are not compatible with a post-modern military, a volunteer army, or professional soldiers.20 As Enloe puts it, “The Scottish soldier will become merely a soldier; his kilt will be traded in for khaki.”21 Therefore nationalist states with ethnocentric ideas about the military will not be able to transform the army into an all-volunteer institution. According to Rosen, if military personnel are deliberately drawn from a dominant ethnicity, then the state’s real objective is to foster loyalty to an ethnic-state, not a nation-state.22 In the late 1990s, all Central Asian states announced they would transform their national armies from Soviet-based structures into Western-inspired ones. Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and, partly, Uzbekistan planned to transform labor-intensive conscript armies into professional, voluntary institutions. This included reorganizing mass armies into small, mobile forces, professionally trained and equipped with modern technologies that could react rapidly and operate in mountainous areas.23 However, these announcements came before the political elites decided to revise national ideologies to emphasize dominant ethno-nationalist elements. Because of this inconsistency, national armies are still being divided along ethnic lines, despite available funds, international assistance and political rhetoric. Ethnic minorities – Russians, Tatars, Uzbeks, Tajiks, Koreans and other groups throughout the region encounter glass ceilings in their military (or civilian) careers. Put differently, as long as Amir Timur, Samani and other role models dominate the discourse on national ideology, local armies will inevitably absorb the ethno-nationalist elements of these narratives. In some cases, state efforts to enhance the army’s service conditions, technology, and professional training have led to even greater divides and intensified competition between military personnel belonging to majority and minority ethnic groups. For instance, the Central Asian Peacekeeping Battalion failed largely because the

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states chose to invest in their own national military build-ups before organizing any regional security system.24 Since the army is a political entity and an important public institution in each Central Asian state, all social and ethnic groups must be equally involved in the military and political reform process in the first years of the independence period. In addition, Central Asian military institutions should not hesitate to reform their internal structures according to more ethnically neutral standards. Analyzing the narratives, historical heroes, and national ideologies of each Central Asian state inevitably draws attention to a set of specific features. First, the symbolic and practical status of national languages favors specific groups. In every Central Asian state, the educational system makes learning the titular national history and language compulsory. Central Asian students must learn titular national languages and pass state exams on national histories. Notions of historical heroism are portrayed as linked to contemporary society, but also delineating cultural and physical boundaries between groups. All military medals and oaths are publicized primarily in the national language, although Russian-language use remains significant. Second, a Central Asian soldier is a secular or quasi-religious actor. In most states, a national hero usually is either a religious personality or a secular actor. Rewritten military histories in Central Asia do not emphasize Islam, because religious loyalty competes with loyalty to incumbent political regimes. The religious affiliation of historical figures is mentioned, but not brought to the foreground. In Uzbekistan, where radical religious groups have been especially problematic, Ulugbek and Amir Temur are portrayed as secular heroes. In Tajikistan, this differentiation is blurred, although the role of religious values in society is fundamental to the government–opposition conflicts. Third, the military is a deeply masculine institution in the Central Asian states; there are no national heroines.25 Ideals based on male defenders and warriors target the male population and traditionally masculine institutions such as the lawenforcement agencies and security structures. With some exceptions in Kazakhstan, the Central Asian militaries are predominantly male. All men of a certain age must complete basic military training, whether or not the country currently faces security threats.

Kazakhstan Over the past two decades, Kazakhstan has published a series of outstanding books on Kazakh baatyrs, military symbolism in the pre-Soviet times, and major historical battles.26 According to Kazakhstani historians, the academic inquiry into former times is part of a strategy to apply their rich historical experience to the development of modern military institutions.27 The military history of the Kazakhs, they argue, contains many prominent warriors from different tribes and the pre-Soviet era, including Abylaikhan (1711–1780), Malaisary-batyr (seventeenth century), Agibai-batyr (1802–1885) and Kenesary Kasymov (1847) who fought the subjugation of the Kazakhs by Djungars and Tsarist Russia and for the unification of all

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 125 Kazakhs, preserving their national integrity and encouraging prosperity.28 Starting from the 2000s particular attention has been paid to Altyn Adam (The Golden man), a legend developed after the golden uniform of an unknown warrior was excavated near Almaty in 1969. Paintings and statues of Altyn Adam now appear in public places across Kazakhstan, from offices within the power ministries to border checkpoints. Modern Kazakh military literature has never emphasized a single dominant commander from history nor designated a certain historical period as a blueprint for the present day. Although Nazarbayev is subtly promoting ethnic-nationalism over civic-based state ideology by showing a greater degree of segregation of ethnic minorities in public offices,29 the Kazakh government has not promoted any one unifying ethnocentric character within military structures. Instead, literature on the Kazakh military emphasizes the historical military system of Asian communities as one of the most progressive in the Middle Ages. It depicts the institution of military power as the focal point of Turkic nomadic tribes. Accordingly, depending on military capability, a given tribe could perpetuate its status over generations. This historical experience provides a rich background for elaborations about the cultural and historical significance of the armed forces in the survival of the modern Central Asian nations: the nomadic lifestyle encouraged a unique system of warfare that allowed nomads to attain military superiority over settled peoples.30 Nomadic military organization was an indispensable element of understanding the lifestyle, statehood, and the survival of the Kazakh ethnos through centuries. Some Kazakh authors argue that nomadic tribes and individuals survived due to a tradition of possessing weapons. All males had to be proficient with weaponry, so they were always prepared to defend against attacks. Khans and tribal leaders ruled based on the military potential of their subordinates. In particular, the popular sport of hunting wild pack animals served as a form of military training for males with wealthy backgrounds.31 The increasing use of academic works to highlight the importance of the past in modern times would not have been possible without directives and financial support from the Kazakh government. In addition to supporting literary contributions to military affairs, the government has also fostered the development of military science. The emphasis on pre-Soviet military history in Central Asian communities began only a decade after the collapse of the Soviet regime. Kazakh and Kyrgyz historians began to research the military traditions of the nomadic peoples, while Uzbek and Tajik writers concentrated on the empires led by Tamerlane and Samani. In researching military organization in the pre-Soviet and pre-Mongol periods Kazakh and Kyrgyz historiographers often resorted to oral epics, which described the major battles, weaponry and symbols of nomadic peoples. As Aibolat Kushkumbayev concludes in his extensive study of the military organization of Kazakh nomads, although the history of weaponry is extensively depicted, there are still gaps in the understanding of other important traits such as how well Kazakh nomads were armed as well as their military planning.32 Furthermore, the existing historiography about the military organization of nomadic tribes focuses only on a

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handful of time periods and fails to present an in-depth understanding of the main principles of battle. Uzbek and Tajik academics, however, were able to use written resources in completing their military historiographies. However, Nazarbayev avoids associating the modern national mentality with the nomadic culture that was prevalent on the territory of modern Kazakhstan until the late nineteenth century.33 Because nomadic culture has little to contribute to the idea of unified modern statehood, he prefers to emphasize that over many centuries local settled communities of people reinforced the Kazakh national identity.34 In this line of thought, the preservation of cultural values, language and religion across centuries testifies to the Kazakh community’s maturity and ability to function as a civilized community. Former Kyrgyz president Askar Akayev also ignored the nomadic past of ethnic Kyrgyz, drawing attention to only selected instrumental examples of this culture.

Kyrgyzstan President Akayev maintained a balance among different ideological projects from “Kyrgyzstan is Our Common Home,” which called for the unification of the different ethnic groups in the country, to “Manas-1,000,” “Osh-3,000” and “2,200 Years of Kyrgyz Statehood,” all of which introduced historically important events into the contemporary political discourse. In the mid 1990s, the Manas ideals, based on the world’s longest epic narration, became the core of the new national ideology. A special governmental committee on cultural and educational affairs modified the seven maxims mentioned in the epic to incorporate them into the official state ideology. Akayev emphasized the importance of Manas in his speeches, and he authored a book entirely dedicated to the epic’s value in Kyrgyzstan’s statehood.35 A special state commission was formed to encourage the revival of the popular epic among Kyrgyz citizens and to promote it among the international community. For the Kyrgyz government the Manas epic represented a comfortable choice to become the foundation of a national ideology. The epic captures the history of major inter-tribal and inter-ethnic battles and victories, delineates foes and friends of the Kyrgyz ethnos and reflects a philosophy of national unity, as well as recording the heroic actions of the main character and his followers. Manas is a composite image of a male warrior who is a defender of the motherland, as well as an exemplary son, husband and father. The epic depicts the Kyrgyz people’s lifestyle and the importance of interpersonal relations. The seven maxims captured in the epic were not a mere tool for shaping a national self-image among the Kyrgyz, they reflect broad principles of ethnic tolerance, respect for elders and nurturing younger generations, as well as other positive social values. The Manas ideals’ incorporation into the military is evident from the new collection of medals and honorary titles introduced in the 1990s. Despite the epic’s rich set of ethno-centered symbols and potential value for developing national consciousness, neither the maxims nor the epic itself managed to gain wide public acceptance. Manas is a profoundly ethnocentric approach to patriotism, as it calls for defending the Kyrgyz nation from outsiders and

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 127 befriending neighboring nationalities. The name Manas was used to rename main streets and buildings in every Kyrgyz city, the government organized a large celebration in 1995 dedicated to the epic, and young “manaschy” (people who know the epic by heart) received state scholarships, but the ideals of Manas did not resonate among the wider public, especially in the Russian-speaking capital, Bishkek. The epic was perceived as an ethnically biased story, not relevant for the present day. One reason why Manas was not widely accepted by society is the multiethnic composition of Kyrgyzstan, especially in urban areas. The ideology based on Manas encouraged usage of the Kyrgyz language and a return to the practices of national traditions. As an ethnocentric ideology, it raised an open discontent among Russians, lowered their trust in the state and, in some cases, was a primary reason for their emigrating from Kyrgyzstan. The civic-based policy “Kyrgyzstan is our common home” was primarily directed at the Russian-speaking and ethnic Uzbek populations. As a rival ideology, it gained more popularity than Manas. Putin tracked Akayev’s efforts to avoid creating a pure nationalist state, where ethnic minorities would have to follow the dominant culture of the titular nationality, with his political support. However, attempts to incorporate the feelings of all ethnic groups into a common idea about Kyrgyz statehood inevitably exacerbated neo-nationalist movements in the country. Villagers and some parliamentarians objected to the civic formulation, calling it a mistake to give up milestones of the past in order to build a stable future.36 This opposition to civic-based nationalism confirmed that there was a strong resistance among some political elites to Akayev’s liberal ideas and alternative, conservative views about the content of national ideological beliefs. Ultranationalist politicians called for the return of Kyrgyz cultural and religious traditions through cults of historical personas and periods. For instance, Dastan Sarygulov, a well-known politician and businessman, is an active propagator of the pre-Islamic Tengrian period.37 Akayev also felt pressure from the Uzbek minority in the southern parts of the country. The “Osh-3000” celebration and the separation of Batken oblast from Osh oblast following conflicts there with guerillas of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan revealed the government’s concern with the southern parts of the country.

Tajikistan The experience of the Tajik army differs from other Central Asian militaries. It is a highly complicated case of intermixed ideological trends, where the government long refused to play a leading role.38 The aftermath of the 1992–1997 civil war undermined efforts to form a coherent ideology among army personnel. The Tajik armed forces were structured during the civil war on the basis of their loyalty to individual leaders in the government, opposition party, or the president. For a few years after the end of the civil war, Tajik soldiers were only minimally aware of any state-cultivated sense of patriotism.39 The concept of professionalism among Tajik soldiers was interconnected with their patron–client relationship with high-ranking officials. As there was no constitutionally defined control over the military

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structures formed in the independence period in post–civil war Tajikistan, there was also no dominant national idea. The civil war experiences among Tajik militants unavoidably reinforced clan-based divisions. But loyalties among military personnel did not overlap with the state-maintained ideology of Samani’s heroism. In the late 1990s the Tajik government held up different historical periods as being important to the present-day reality.40 The government interpreted the period of Zoroastrianism as an alternative religious-political project to Islam. The project on Zoroastrianism was bound to fail, because its historical distance and abstract symbolism offered a very loose connection with the modern Tajik identity. Partly because the records of the Zoroastrian period are scarce and vague, the Tajik government was rather unsuccessful in promoting the idea.41 In the 2000s, however, the government began institutionalizing symbols related to the rule of Ismail Samani. The Samani era (819–1005), when the Tajik empire ruled the Central Asian region from its capital in Bukhara, is remembered in history as a great Islamic dynasty.42 The government’s manipulation of the Samani epoch marked its attempt to accentuate the importance of a strong historical Tajik statehood that politically dominated in the region. In 2001 the Tajik government planned to celebrate the 1,100th anniversary of the Samani Empire. Rakhmon’s official formulation insisted that the “Samanids epoch – the golden age of [the] Tajiks – enlightens thousands [of] years of their history,” as “there emerged the idea [of] working for the uniting of [the] Tajiks.”43 Similar to Karimov’s depiction of Amir Timur, Rakhmon depicted Ismail Samani as a leader who was able to consolidate the Tajiks and promote their glory. The Islamic Renaissance Party (IRP), a religious alliance of anti-government forces, also tried to link the Samanid epoch with current religious identities. However, this syncretic competition lasted only until the February 2005 parliamentary elections, when the IRP won only two seats. The election result indicated that Rakhmon’s Peoples’ Democratic Party (PDP), enjoying access to public administrative resources, was able to suppress other political parties. For Tajikistan, any revival of historical narratives inevitably raises grievances and feelings of discontent because the key historical cities of the Samani period, Samarkand and Bukhara, today are part of Uzbekistan.44 Not only do historical memories link the Tajiks with these places, but family ties were established since the Soviet times when the borders between Soviet republics were transparent. Thus, Tajikistan’s experience illustrates that incoherent public institutions hinder the production and success of any strong ideological project.

Uzbekistan After the collapse of the Soviet regime, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan underwent the most dramatic changes in language policies, education systems, and governmental structures.45 Most important, the Uzbek and Turkmen leaderships zealously branded the Soviet era as a period of Russian colonialism. Unlike Kazakhstan, and partly Kyrgyzstan, where the Russian minority is larger, both states grounded their policies of nationalism in ethnic identities. In Uzbekistan, even the country’s large

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 129 Tajik minority was barred from possible restoration of ethnic identities in the postSoviet period, let alone a small Russian minority that felt increasingly marginalized in the 1990s. Karimov, famous for saying, “One nation, two languages,” addressed on numerous occasions the Tajiks of Uzbekistan who had preserved their language after decades of living on the Uzbek territory and trying to assimilate with the dominant ethnicity. The cults of Amir Timur (Tamerlane) and Ulukbek were taken as modern heroes to establish the beginning of Uzbek national consciousness. Interestingly, the ideals of the Timurid times in the fourteenth century considerably overlap with important historical records of all other Central Asian states. Any regional ethnic group can eventually build a link between that historical period and its present statehood.46 This type of usurpation of important historical events under various national banners allowed the Uzbek government to cultivate an image of cultural superiority over its neighbors. As Karimov writes in his book on Uzbekistan’s future development: Our great ancestors – Imam Bukhari, At-Termizi, Naqshband, Ahmad Yassavi, Al-Khorezmi, Beruni, Ibn Sina (Avicenna), Amir Temur (Tamerlane), Ulughbek, Babur (the first Mogul Emperor of India) and many others – have greatly contributed to the development of our national culture. They became the national pride of our people … Only after gaining independence could we render proper veneration to and appraisal of our great ancestor.47 From the early 1990s Karimov’s pick of Amir Temur was closely linked with the Uzbeks’ nationhood and the idea of a long-awaited independence. Karimov defined Amir Temur as an historic figure who built the foundation of the Uzbek nation “[the] glorious state, commander who conquered half of the world and whose name became famous across time.”48 The historic warrior is further praised for his achievements in uniting the peoples within the nation and developing statehood. More than in other post-Soviet Central Asian states, Uzbekistan’s military became one of the means the state used to perpetuate the ideas of a strong Uzbek nation and identify threats to the national integrity. The power of national military institutions supersedes the importance of any other public formation and is identified as the main source of the state’s stability. A strong military that attracts the country’s best men turned into the basis of national integrity: The objective should be the gradual creation of a professional army and air force with adequately trained fighters, loyal to their nation, and capable of defending the honor of the Motherland to the end … It is necessary to learn from and assimilate the military arts of our great ancestors: Jalaluddin Manghuberdi, Timur Malik, Amir Timur, Babur and others … … We need a military training system that produces physically and morally strong members of our society, patriots of their Motherland, who have mastered [the] values of our nation.49

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In another step toward abolishing Soviet influences, Karimov ordered the Uzbek alphabet changed from Cyrillic to Latin script. All administrative documentation was translated into Uzbek within a decade. The language policy and rewriting of history to openly blame legacies of the Soviet period for current problems in the country biased the younger generation of Uzbeks who are less fluent in Russian and can only use the Latin script. The change of scripts also complicated inter-state communication, document exchanges and created problems for Uzbekistan’s neighbors. Tashkent has spread Amir Timur ideals throughout national military institutions. Military titles, orders and medals approved in the beginning of the 1990s incorporated various “nationalized” labels such as “Hero of Uzbekistan” (Uzbeksiton Kahramoni), “Golden Star” (Altyn Ulduz), “Independence” (Mustalilik), “Friendship” (Dostlik), “Courage” (Jasorat) and “Glory” (Shuhrat). “Amir Temur” was approved as a military medal in 1996. In the late 1990s, Karimov identified four criteria for efficient armed forces. The first requirement is to have soldiers who are “patriots of the motherland” and physically fit.50 Quality arms and sophisticated weaponry is the second factor. Third, the military must have strong infrastructure and adequate conditions for national troops to carry out their service. Finally, in order for the military to become selfsufficient, Karimov has encouraged the development of related industries that can facilitate the country’s defensive capability. Specifically, to create and implement appropriate security policy “requires the giving up of individual plans by every agency and program for the promotion of separate elements of defensive capability …”51

Turkmenistan Turkmenistan stands out as an extreme case of ethnocentric nationalism based on the personality cult of the late president Saparmurat Niyazov. In his own two-volume book Ruhnama, Niyazov emphasized the historical significance of Oguz Khan (seventh to eighth century). However, any historical account of Turkmen khans or warriors was overshadowed by portrayals of the president’s own achievements and ideas. By publishing Ruhnama, the Turkmen leader assumed a monopoly over interpreting historical knowledge. Niyazov depicted himself as a symbol of Turkmen unity and patriotism, seeking to control every aspect of social life in the country. The book praises the Turkmens’ ability to build a state and affect other nations and countries. It codifies the behavior of the people, providing rules on how to dress, talk, and build relationships with their family members. The book promotes largely patriarchal values, detailing the roles of men and women in society. In writing Ruhnama Niyazov claimed to have met with Allah and insisted that whoever read the book three times would automatically go to paradise. Until 2008 Ruhnama was taught at every public institution, from schools to the military. The younger generations, without access to any alternative sources of information, became increasingly indoctrinated with the Ruhnama principles. In the most extreme cases, Ruhnama is studied up to eight hours a week in schools.52 Ruhnama’s penetration of daily life is perhaps one of the most extreme examples

From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 131 among modern states.53 A Turkmen soldier’s professionalism is measured by the extent of his knowledge of Ruhnama. Unlike other Central Asian states, Niyazov’s own cult did not represent a warrior. Following Niyazov’s death, it took President Berdymukhammedov over two years to ease the imposition of Ruhnama in the daily life of Turkmens due to the book’s deep penetration of the public space. In addition to the rapidly decreasing level of professionalism among young people trained on Ruhnama, older Soviet-trained specialists were barred from their normal occupations. In the 2000s, Niyazov increased the number of military recruits serving in virtually all public institutions. Tens of thousands of civil servants, with Soviet-era professional training in medicine, natural sciences, and engineering, were replaced by army conscripts. Starting in 2002 and 2003, Niyazov dramatically increased military expenditure in the 2000s. The number of army personnel doubled to 200,000 conscripts, the highest number in Central Asia.54 The relative ease with which the Turkmen leader implemented changes in public structures suggested that he had almost unlimited capacity to alter people’s political and social lives. The health and education sectors were continuously downgraded by the government in the last decade, but military institutions, as well as Turkmenbashi’s publishing empire, received increased government investment. Unlike the rulers of the other Central Asian states, Turkmenbashi considered the present day to be the most critical phase in the nation’s development.

Conclusion: Narratives and the state With unstable ruling regimes and rapidly mobilizing violent non-state actors the Central Asian states needed to develop strong militaries in order to function. Political elites’ mounting concerns for their own hold on power and control of state territory pushed them to seek loyalty from the native ethnic communities. By cultivating the ideals of a historical hero, who is directly or indirectly linked to the modern soldier, Central Asian political elites created a sense of patriotism and loyalty to the state and to themselves. These ideals usually portray historical figures as the main symbols of state security and genuine patriotism. The more the state brings ethnic undertones into national ideology, the more insecure it feels, because of the lack of authority among its citizenry, ineffective political institutions and contested national borders.55 By contrast, if political elites are not challenged by insurgent groups, their political legitimacy is unquestioned and they maintain control over resources within indisputable national territory, they will be preoccupied with “qualitative” changes in the military such as enhancing technological equipment and Western-style professional training. By taking the influence of ethno-centered ideas to the level of the lowest recruit, regimes are promoting the heroism of a single historical character whose background could discriminate against ethnic minorities. In this case, military institutions are designed to protect the titular nation, not the citizenry at border areas and in conflict situations. There are dominant narratives about particular historical warriors in all Central Asian states. Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan are the extreme cases of strong state capacity to disperse nationalism across military institutions.

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Ruhnama and stories about Amir Timur are so widespread that every Turkmen or Uzbek citizen will be compelled to read them if he or she knows the national language. In Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, attempts to instill the ideals of an historical persona in the contemporary soldier’s professional ideology failed, due to these states’ weak capacities to reproduce ideas in a print language and the generally low economic and political strength of the governing elites. Kazakh political elites have produced an outstanding amount of literature on military history, in which no single historical persona seems to dominate. This is one more reason that Kazakhstan has achieved the region’s most outstanding military reforms in the last decade.

Conclusion What lies ahead?

Be as everyone else. Not too smart, but not a complete moron either … it is better to be a little behind rather than a little ahead, better be a bit dumb than too smart1

Before the collapse of the Soviet Union the Central Asian militaries never participated in battles or exercises independent of Central Command in Moscow and were always part of a larger Soviet military strategy. Indeed, the military institutions were among the first created by the Soviet regime after the October Revolution in 1917 and pre-dated the creation of the five Central Asian union republics. Over time, the Workers and Peasants’ Red Army increasingly reinforced the Soviet regime. As Odom argued, “The Red Army conquered and sustained the Soviet Empire,” while the Soviet Union’s political and economic systems cannot be understood without considering the military sector.2 The military and the Party were mutually reinforcing: the Red Army needed an ideological justification for claiming resources, while the Party greatly relied on the army’s coercive power at home and its formidable status in the international arena. This interdependence significantly influenced the Soviet economy, which was running on a permanent war basis. When the Soviet Union disintegrated in 1991, Central Asian military institutions, like other Soviet state structures, had to reorient their loyalty from Soviet Central Command to the newly established national governments. Except in Tajikistan, which succumbed to civil war, this process was fairly smooth because Soviet officers had also functioned as bureaucrats and executives of the Party’s decisions during the Soviet regime. Most non-Russian officers were promoted to higher positions when their Russian colleagues returned to the Russian Federation. New ruling regimes rapidly nationalized military institutions, and new legislatures and national symbols were devised in the first years of independence. All Central Asian states were able to unanimously adopt a new legal framework for the armed forces and began to nationalize the Soviet military property located on their territories. As in other former Soviet states, civilian ruling elites control Central Asian military institutions. The Soviet tradition of subordinating the military to Party rule has been carried over and at least partly explains the military’s limited participation in

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political life. The division between an army comprised mostly of conscripts from rural areas and civilian political elites from urban areas also limits the military’s political role. The Central Asian ruling regimes typically formed one pro-regime political party (Nur Otan in Kazakhstan, Ak Zhol in Kyrgyzstan, and the People’s Democratic Party in Tajikistan) that held a majority in parliament and the government and did not change the principle of political control over the military. The parties are led by their country’s respective president and require allegiance from all public structures. These parties are active during elections and are the only political force that guarantees economic growth and protects political leaders from rivals. National security structures and power ministries were automatically co-opted by the parties, which also control parliamentary committees dealing with security issues and military planning. All defense ministers and interior ministers, as well as the heads of SNB, National Guard and Border Guards, are members of the ruling party. Party members are expected to actively disseminate state-constructed ideologies to strengthen loyalty to the ruling regime. In Tajikistan the People’s Democratic Party propagated President Rakhmon’s narratives of the Samanid dynasty and Aryan civilization, helping the government celebrate public holidays dedicated to these ideas. In Uzbekistan virtually every public institution must disseminate President Karimov’s ideas and quotations. In Kazakhstan, President Nazarbayev’s 2030 Agenda for Kazakhstan’s development was actively promulgated by public institutions and images of Altyn Adam appear throughout official buildings. One-party leadership that also controlled the security structures inserted greater ambiguity into regime transformation in Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. In the mid 2000s it became more difficult to predict whether at times of regime change, violent or peaceful, the military brass would support the old incumbents or switch loyalty towards new political forces. The military must passively wait for information about security developments to come from above. The ruling elite defines what constitutes a security threat and then informs the military. At the same time, threat definitions remain vague in each Central Asian state. All states refer to a catch-all definition of “terrorism” in which Hizb-ut-Tahrir and the IMU qualify as the most dangerous groups, while the military labels any sporadic religious demonstrations, whether by peaceful young men in Nookat or an armed confrontation in Andijan, as evidence of extremism and terrorism. The military has limited opportunities to investigate imminent threats on its own or to acquire an in-depth understanding of existing security challenges. Most analysis and research of security issues is conducted at civilian institutions and pro-governmental think tanks. The military thus often lacks the capacity to determine and form a thorough understanding of what qualifies as a national threat. As a result, military personnel often refer to abstract terrorist forces, sometimes confusing boundaries of extremist religious groups with moderate ones. Although nowhere in the Central Asian region does the military resist civilian control, the structure of civil–military relations and intra-military relations vary

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from state to state. Each Central Asian regime has developed a distinct type of leadership over the military, in which both civilians and officers share different levels of authority and power. In Uzbekistan in 2004–2005, rumors of a possible coup d’état, allegedly instigated by Interior Minister Zakir Almatov and head of the National Security Service Rustam Inoyatov circulated before and after the Andijan massacre. Partly to avert such future challenges, Karimov replaced Tashkentnative Almatov with Samarkand-native Bahodir Matlubov, whom he purportedly trusted more since he was from his own natal place. Civilian control of the military was more successful in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, in part because of those countries’ extensive cooperation with NATO’s PfP and western NGOs such as the Geneva-based Democratic Control of Armed Forces. Kazakhstan’s accomplishment in increasing the pool of contract-based soldiers and enhancing the professionalism of the officer corps enhanced state sovereignty both domestically and regionally. But in Turkmenistan representatives of the military, although lacking the necessary technical expertise, replaced civilian professionals at most public institutions, including education and healthcare. All states see their military doctrine as an important statement that provides the rationale for how the armed forces should function. But only Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have tried to critically reassess the relevance of their military doctrines’ content in light of the country’s actual capacity to reform the armed forces. Both states have made visible progress in defining national security priorities during the independence period. Roughly, this has happened in two stages. First, in the 1990s Kazakh and Kyrgyz documents replicated the precepts of the Cold War, defining the major security threats as stemming from nuclear attacks. Both states mimicked developments in Russia, too, at times copying passages from similar documents developed by the Kremlin. This reflects the Central Asian states’ focus on developments within the CIS as opposed to Western or Asian experiences. In the second stage the states defined terrorism and insurgent groups as a more pressing threat to their security. Again, the revision of threat identification took place commensurate to CSTO’s changes in definitions of collective threats to its member states. On a regional scale, Kazakhstan has registered some exceptional achievements. Nazarbayev has effectively had a one-party system since the 2007 parliamentary elections, when Nur Otan gained 98 percent of the votes, nevertheless he has accomplished serious reforms in the military sector. Kazakhstan is the only Central Asian state that has been able to benefit from cooperation with NATO as well as to rebuff any pressure from the CSTO and SCO. Kazakhstan’s third military doctrine, adopted in 2007, emphasizes the importance of cooperation through the PfP and with the United States. A few influential Russian newspapers condemned the doctrine, yet no such criticism was voiced at annual meetings of CSTO and SCO. Kazakhstan’s strengthening relations with NATO and EU in the 2000s impacted the wider Central Asia region as well. Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan were able to use Kazakhstan as a shield when Russia pressed them to recognize the independence of South Ossetia and Abkhazia in August 2008. Kazakhstan’s successful cooperation with NATO contributed to its recognition as a state with great economic and

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political potential, although it remains questionable whether the positive changes inside Kazakhstan regarding democratic control of the armed forces and other political areas as required for the OSCE chairmanship would similarly reverberate on a regional scale. In post–civil war Tajikistan, Rakhmon centralized the government and achieved stability. In the early 2000s his accomplishments were largely lauded by the international community, and Tajikistan’s economy began to slowly recover. Yet, the short period of stability was soon overshadowed by Rakhmon’s removal of opposition forces from most public posts and the parliament. Rakhmon installed loyal supporters in the security structures; Minister of Defense Sherali Khairulloyev from Kulyab oblast, for example, served for over a decade. By the mid 2000s Rakhmon was confident that the top echelons in the military structures were submissive to his regime and not interested in launching a conflict over state power. Rakhmon adopted a first military doctrine in 2005, almost a decade later than his neighbors, after all military institutions were headed by his supporters. Although some improvement in the armed forces’ professionalism has been achieved in the 2000s, conscripts and reservists in both Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan remain poorly trained. Military exercises sponsored by CSTO, SCO or NATO are often the only opportunity for conscripts to get acquainted with modern weapons, technology and mountain-warfare techniques. In Kyrgyzstan, Bakiyev has installed family members and cronies in security structures, thus increasing the uncertainty of the presidential election’s outcome in 2010. By 2008 Bakiyev had replaced all influential military officials with cronies who would be loyal to him should the opposition organize mass protests before or after presidential elections. Minister of Interior Moldomusa Kongantiyev, Minister of Defense Bakytbek Kalyev and the head of the Security Council, Adakhan Modumarov, worked closely with Bakiyev to strengthen his power and the pro-regime Ak Zhol party during the period 2005 to 2008. As the presidential elections neared, the interior ministry and defense ministry worked to quieten opposition forces as public discontent increased, exposing their control by the ruling regime. Without effective state mechanisms for peaceful transfers of power, the Central Asian leaders continuously fear violent removal by opposition groups. Facing a high risk of armed confrontation, regime incumbents try to secure the support of military officials. Both political and military elites, when threatened, are further likely to appeal to nationalism rather than democracy and civil liberties. Importantly, although military force might not be used against opposition groups in Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan or Turkmenistan, the military’s absolute loyalty to the regime incumbents is a powerful indicator of regime strength. In Uzbekistan, Karimov’s efforts to strengthen the armed forces and patronizing security leaders have inserted greater uncertainty into the transformation of power as well. Karimov is likely to control power transfer, while his potential use of military structures in suppressing riots and opposition remain unclear. If Uzbekistan’s relations with NATO, the EU and the US continue to recover, Western actors will put more pressure on the Uzbek government to improve human rights, allow

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greater freedom of speech, permit international and local NGOs to operate and secure wider political competition. Karimov’s bitter experience with Andijan, however, leaves little hope for such improvements. His rivals, either imprisoned at home or exiled abroad, would use any crack in his authoritarian rule to contest his hold on power. After two decades in power, Karimov has centralized his authority so much that the ministry of the interior and the ministry of defense would crumble should Karimov’s regime collapse. Military personnel permeate most public structures in Turkmenistan, acting as one of the most important elements of former leader Saparmurat Niyazov’s totalitarian control over state structures. Turkmen military personnel, in turn, are heavily indoctrinated with Ruhnama propaganda. The transition of power after Niyazov’s death in December 2006 proceeded calmly largely because of this strong regime penetration of state and society. Berdymukhammedov is likely to keep military personnel in public structures and continue their indoctrination in Ruhnama. Another important trait of Central Asian militaries is their separation from local society, but receptiveness to cooperation with Moscow. The ministries of defense abide by the limits on their political participation established under the Soviet regime, but they remain reluctant to work with the media or the wider population. Only the militaries in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have sporadically tried to cooperate with local media outlets. But in the transnational arena, the military has proved to be the fastest channel to restore ties destroyed in 1991. The CSTO flourished in the 2000s under Russian patronage, and the Central Asian states were eager to win back Russia’s attention. Cooperation on security issues also proved to be a successful element of new ties with China.

Military, ethnicity and ideology Central Asian leaders sought to instill inherited military institutions with new meanings of legitimacy and sovereignty that would support their new regimes. As this book demonstrated, the Soviet practice of using the military as the ultimate institution for patriotic expression and indoctrination continued into the independence period. The Soviet regime had encouraged a sense of dual identity – one local and ethnic, the other broader and Soviet. The Soviet Army helped construct the Soviet nations in the 1920s to the 1950s by serving as a coercive power and integrating ethnic majorities and minorities into one supra-state entity. World War II and the Soviet war in Afghanistan helped to cultivate this dual “internationalist” identity, for instance being both Kazakh and Soviet, which has continued into the independence period. This ambiguous role of the military is most vivid among veterans of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. The lasting effect of the Afghan conflict is evident as Afghan Veteran Unions continue to function two decades past the war. The veterans are proud supporters of the Soviet regime, yet enthusiastic patriots of their native countries as well. Furthermore, the AVU leaders, particularly in Russia, loudly criticize the West’s anti-terrorist campaign in Afghanistan and Georgia’s policies in South Ossetia and Abkhazia. However, few key positions in military structures in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan are occupied by

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Afghan veterans. Most veterans employed by national military institutions are inclined to support military cooperation with Russia, while condemning Western powers’ influence on national institutions and regional security dynamics. Central Asian leaders created state ideologies that actively incorporated military themes. Old Soviet templates within military institutions were filled with new, ethnocentric content, while the symbolism used for medals, emblems and uniforms changed. Post-Soviet Central Asian ruling elites thus resorted to these ready-made ethnocentric attributes to encourage loyalty from civilians and soldiers alike. The military themes and institutions provided a useful medium to spread new nationalist ideas. Ethnocentric heroes replaced the traditional Soviet patriot, depicted in numerous works of literature and cinema using military themes, in each Central Asian state. All Central Asian state ideologies sought to promote their people as unique nations with ancient, rich histories that often blur the definition of ethnicity and citizenship. Against this background, the military reinforced ethnic and regional attachments instead of promoting international peacekeeping activities. Local militaries serve their nation and titular ethnic group. The notorious hazing subculture in the Soviet army continued into the independence era and even worsened with regional divisions among recruits. In most cases intra-army violence is driven by regional identities among recruits and commanders. Brutal confrontation based on regional origins is widespread among recruits in Tajikistan more than in other states due to shortages in financing and lack of reform. Natives of the president’s home region often receive better treatment in the army and occupy higher posts. Intra-ethnic divisions are thus reinforced by the military hierarchy. To suppress the riots in Andijan, Karimov deployed troops from Tashkent and Samarkand who would allegedly feel little sympathy towards local protestors. Natives of Kulyab, Rakhmon’s natal place, dominate Tajikistan’s security and other state structures, while representatives of other regions occupy positions in other sectors such as academia, international organizations, and businesses. Kulyabi recruits have better chances for promotion and protection from higher commandership, while Pamiri or recruits of different ethnicities are frequent victims of hazing. Such a transformation was partly reinforced by the fact that military institutions became ethnically more homogenous after independence, with fewer conscripts with Russian, Ukrainian and other ethnic origins. Even in Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, where Russian, Ukrainian and Korean generals with Soviet military training occupy high posts, younger minorities have limited chances to become ministers. Given that Russia still exercises strong a political influence in the Central Asian states and the military is a crucial aspect of Moscow’s relations with its southern neighbors, the state ideological percepts promulgated in the Russian military inevitably reverberate among its allies. In particular the CSTO serves as an effective tool for spreading the Kremlin’s political ideology across the Central Asian region. Some of the most noticeable ideological messages are on display at World War II annual commemorations, which unite all CSTO members. These ideological constructs are influenced by the pervasive ideological thinking inside Russian political and military circles. As the CSTO expanded the scope and frequency of its

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activities in the 2000s, the Central Asian states turned into primary clients of Russia’s interests in the region. Both the CSTO and SCO military drills, however, are largely symbolic, with Russia and China showcasing their military might and Central Asian conscripts’ observing foreign military technologies. The exercises were carried out on the basis of abstract scenarios instead of addressing specific training needs. Both organizations paid little attention to the interoperability of national forces despite common goals and principles. Should a real security challenge emerge in Central Asia, the states would need to rely on their own forces. Any previous regional initiative, be this from CentrAsBat to CSTO and SCO were forced upon the Central Asian states, failing to genuinely instigate common interest in cooperating against shared security concerns. While campaigning for the US presidency in 2008, Barack Obama called for renewed focus on Afghanistan, invigorating regional discussions about the need to gather the countries surrounding Afghanistan into a dialogue on anti-terrorism and rebuilding efforts in Afghanistan.3 Central Asian leaders, along with Pakistan, Iran and the South Caucasus states would be urged to contribute. Obama’s call for action also mentioned the incremental role of the US–Russian relationship in the Central Asian states’ foreign policies. Should confrontational moods between Washington and Moscow continue, public perception of the US military presence would remain mostly negative. Conversely, if Washington and Moscow find common ground for cooperation over Afghanistan, Central Asian states will be involved as well. Hopes for any visible breakthrough are undermined by NATO’s failure to engage the Central Asian states during the 1990s and 2000s, except for Kazakhstan, and the Kremlin’s suspicion of the West’s wish to supplant Moscow in the region. It is imperative for Western actors to realize that military institutions in Central Asia, although submissive and loyal to the ruling elites, are the oldest modern state institutions. The military has played a pivotal role in the political development, state consolidation, foreign policy and the daily lives of the people in the Central Asian states since the early twentieth century and will continue to do so for years to come.

Notes

Introduction: Military and state-building in Central Asia 1 This argument was elaborated by Morris Janowitz, Military Institutions and Coercion in the Developing Nation, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977. 2 Janowitz, 1977. 3 Interview with Leonid Bondarets, military expert, Bishkek, April 2008. 4 Interview with a Kyrgyz MP, Bishkek, February 2001. 5 Interview with Bondarets. 6 Roger McDermott, “New CSTO Military Forced Planned”, Eurasia Daily Monitor, September 22, 2008. 1 Central Asian military during the Soviet regime 1 I. Kel’diyev, Vladimir I. Lenin, Materialy po istorii kommunisticheskoi partii Tadjikistana [Vladimir I. Lenin, Material on the history of the Communist Party of Tajikistan], Dushanbe: Ifron, 1971, p. 54. 2 S. Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg. [Military-organizational work of the Communist Party in Middle Asia in 1917–1924], Tashkent: Uzbekistan, 1987, p. 120. 3 Adeeb Khalid, Islam after Communism: Religion and Politics in Central Asia, Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007, p. 59, and passim. 4 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 74. 5 Most literature on the formation of the Soviet regime argues about the Bolsheviks’ strategy of tailoring their aproach to indigenous peoples to proceed with their own nationbuilding process. Rogers Brubaker, “Nationhood and the National Question in the Soviet Union and Post-Soviet Eurasia: An Institutionalist Account”, Theory and Society, 23(1), 1994; Francine Hirsch, “The Soviet Union as a Work-in-Progress: Ethnographers and the Category Nationality in the 1926, 1937, and 1939 Censuses”, Slavic Review, 56(2), 1997; Adeeb Khalid, “Between Empire and Revolution: New Work on Soviet Central Asia”, Kritika: Exploration in Russian and Eurasian History, 2000; Yuri Slezkine, “The USSR as a Communal Apartment, or How a Socialist State Promoted Ethnic Particularism”, Slavic Review, 53(2), 1994. 6 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 20. 7 As Lenin quoted in “Kampaniya v Bukhare v 1920 g. i kratkii ocherk pohodov 1921 i 1922 gg.” [Bukhara Campaign and Short Report on Crusades in 1921 and 1922], in Andrei S. Bubnov (Ed.), Grazhdanskaya voina: 1918–1921, Volume III, Moscow: Otdel voennoi literatury, 1930, p. 124. 8 Roger R. Reese, The Soviet Military Experience, London: Taylor & Francis, 2002.

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9 Ibid. 10 Jonathan R. Adelman, The Revolutionary Armies: The Historical Development of the Soviet and the Chinese People’s Liberation Armies, Westport: Greenwood Press, 1980, p. 10. 11 Reese, “Red Army Professionalism and the Communist Party, 1918–1941”, The Journal of Military History, 66 (January), 2002. 12 Ibid. 13 A. Jumaliyeva, “Sovetsjaya administrativno-komandnoya sistema upravleniya i ee vliyanie na zhizn’ obschestva” [Soviet administrative-command system of management and its influence on society’s life], Kyrgyzskaya gosudarstvennost’ v XX veke [The Kyrgyz statehood in the 20th century], Bishkek: Uchkun, 2003. 14 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 50. 15 For instance, A. Ryazanov, “Istoricheskie predposylki k voprosu o formirovanii natsional’nyh kirgizskih chastei” [Historic prerequisites for a question on formation of Kyrgyz national units], Sovetskaya Kirgiziya, 3(4), 1924. 16 Francine Hirsch, Empire of Nations: Ethnographic Knowledge and the Making of the Soviet Nations, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005. 17 Chokayev, Chokayer M.: Otryvki iz vospominanii o 1917, [Chokayev M.: Excerpt from memoirs about 1917], Tokyo–Moscow: Islamic Area Studies Project, Central Asian Research Series No. 1, 2001, p. 36. 18 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg. 19 S.M. Iskhakov, “Foreword”, in Chokayev M.: Otryvki iz vospominanii o 1917, p. iii. 20 Chokayev, Chokayev M.: Otryvki iz vospominanii o 1917, pp. 16–24. 21 Chokayev, Chokayev M.: Otryvki iz vospominanii o 1917. 22 Nicolai N. Movchin, “Komplektovanie krasnoi armii v 1918–1920 gg.” [Recruitment of the Red Army in 1918–1920], Grazhdanskaya voina: 1918–1921 [Civil War: 1918–1921], Volume II, Moscow, 1928, p. 75. 23 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 68. 24 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 69. 25 Reese, “Red Army Professionalism and the Communist Party, 1918–1941”. 26 Ibid. 27 USSR Academy of Science, Dekrety Sovetskoi vlasti [Decrees of the Soviet Power], Volume 2, Moscow: Politizdat, 1959. 28 Ministry of Defense of the USSR, “X let Krasnoi Armii” [Ten years of the Red Army], Voennyi Vestnik, Moscow, 1928, p. 21. 29 Ibid., p. 63. 30 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 27. 31 K. Tursunov, Natsional’naya politika Kommunisticheskoj partii v Uzbekistane (1917–1924 gg.), Tashkent: Uzbekistan, 1971, p. 222. 32 Krasny Arhiv, 3(100), 1940, p. 73; As Frunze quoted in Klimov, 1987 p. 79. Frunze held entire command over the Eastern Front in Turkistan and was the key military leader to capture Khiva and Bukhara. Prior to his career in Turkistan, Frunze spent years of his childhood in Pishpek, currently Bishkek, and therefore was familiar with local cultures. Later, the Kirgiz SSR capital was named in honor of Frunze despite the fact that he was probably assassinated by Stalin in 1925. 33 Francine, Hirsch, Empire of Nations, p. 6. 34 I. Kel’diyev, “V.I. Lenin i nekotorye voprosy podgotovki natsional’nyh partiinyh i gosudarstvennyh kadrov v srednei Azii” [V.I. Lenin and several questions on preparation of national party and state cadres in Central Asia], Materialy po istorii kommunisticheskoi partii Tadjikistana, Dushanbe: Ifron, 1971, p. 55.

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35 Bubnov, “Kampaniya v Bukhare v 1920 g. i kratkii ocherk pohodov 1921 i 1922 gg.”, p. 551. 36 Movchin, “Komplektovanie krasnoi armii v 1918–1920 gg.”, pp. 84–85 37 M. M. Barsky et al., “Rol’ zheleznyh dorog v grazhdanskoi voine 1918–1921 gg.” [The Role of Railroads in the Civil War of 1918–1921], Grazhdanskaya voina: 1918–1921, [Civil War: 1918–1921] Volume II, Moscow: 1928, p. 335. 38 Bubnov “Kampaniya v Bukhare v 1920 g. i kratkii ocherk pohodov 1921 i 1922 gg.”, p. 553. 39 Khalid, Islam after Communism. 40 Martha B. Olcott, “The Basmachi or Freemen’s Revolt in Turkistan 1918–1924”, Soviet Studies, 33(3), 1981. 41 Khalid, Islam after Communism, p. 58. 42 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 96. 43 Adelman, The Revolutionary Armies, p. 30. 44 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., pp. 72–73. 45 Ibid., p. 73. 46 Ibid., p. 84. 47 Jumaliyeva, “Sovetsjaya administrativno-komandnoya sistema upravleniya i ee vliyanie na zhizn’ obschestva.” 48 Pavel S. Belan and Tuttai B. Balakaev (Eds), Istorichestky opyt zaschity otechestva: voennaya istoriya Kazahstana [Historical experience of the defense of the fatherland: Military history of Kazakhstan], Almaty: BORKI 1999, p. 212. 49 Ministry of Defense of the USSR, “X let Krasnoi Armii”. 50 Svat, Soucek, A History of Inner Asia, Cambridge University Press, 2000. 51 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., p. 92. 52 Bubnov, “Kampaniya v Bukhare v 1920 g. i kratkii ocherk pohodov 1921 i 1922 gg.”. 53 Ibid., p. 552. 54 Ibid. 55 William, S., Ritter, “The Final Phase of the Liquidation of the Anti-Soviet Resistance in Tadzhikistan: Ibrahim Bek and the Basmachi, 1924–31”, Soviet Studies, 37(4), 1985. 56 Ibid. 57 Olimnazar, Khudoiberdiyev, Boyevaya druzhba, pozhdennay Oktyabrem. Iz istorii voennogo stroitel’stva i likvidatsii kontrrevolutsii v srednei Azii [Military friendship born by October. From the history of military building and liquidation of counterrevolution in Central Asia], Moscow: Nauka, 1984, pp. 111–114. 58 Khudoiberdiyev, Boyevaya druzhba, pozhdennay Oktyabrem, p. 114. 59 Klimov, Voenno-organizatorskaya rabota kommunisticheskoi partii v Srednei Azii v 1917–1924 gg., pp. 102–103. 60 Ministry of Defense of the USSR, X let Krasnoi Armii, p. 51. 61 Bubnov, “Kampaniya v Bukhare v 1920 g. i kratkii ocherk pohodov 1921 i 1922 gg.”, p 138. 62 Jones, Red Army and Society: A Sociology of the Soviet Military, Boston: Allen & Unwin, 1985, p. 197. 63 Ministry of Defense of the USSR, “X let Krasnoi Armii”, p. 32. 64 Orlando Figes, “The Red Army and Mass Mobilization during the Russian Civil War 1918–1920”, Past and Present, 129, 1991. 65 Reese, “Red Army Professionalism and the Communist Party, 1918–1941”. 66 Bubnov, “Kampaniya v Bukhare v 1920 g. i kratkii ocherk pohodov 1921 i 1922 gg.”, p. 127. 67 Ellen Jones, Red Army and Society, p. 186. 68 Belan and Balakaev (Eds), Istorichestky opyt zaschity otechestva: voennaya istoriya Kazahstana, p. 234.

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69 Khudoiberdiyev, Boyevaya druzhba, rozhdennaya Oktyabrem, p. 125. 70 Belan and Balakaev (Eds), Istorichestky opyt zaschity otechestva: voennaya istoriya Kazahstana, p. 215. 71 Corcoran-Nante, Yvonne, Lost Voices, London and New York: Zed Books, 2005. 2 “We won the war”: Competing memories of the Soviet war in Afghanistan 1 A. Volkov, “40ya armya: istroirya sozdaniya, sostav, izmenenie struktury” [The Fortieth Army: History of creation, composition, change of structure], http://www. rsva-ural.ru/library/mbook.php?id=63 (accessed on July 3, 2008). 2 Interview with an Afghan veteran, July 2008. 3 The Russian General Staff, The Soviet–Afghan War: How a Superpower Fought and Lost, University Press of Kansas, 2002, pp. 18–22. 4 The Russian General Staff, 2002. 5 Barnett R. Rubin, The Fragmentation of Afghanistan: State Formation and Collapse in the International System, Yale University Press, 2002, p. 146. 6 Strategic Survey 1980–1981 London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, pp. 46–48. 7 Interview with former Kyrgyz conscript, Bishkek, July 2008. 8 G.F. Krivoshein, (Ed.), Grif sekretnosti snyat. Poteri vooruzhennykh sil SSSR v voinakh, boevykh deistviyakh o voennykh konflikta [Secrecy Seal Removed: Losses of USSR military forces in wars, armed actions and military conflicts], Moscow: Voenizdat, 1993. 9 Ibid. 10 From an interview with a Kazakh musician who performed in Afghanistan during the war, “Pod zvezdami afganskimi” [Under the stars of Afghanistan], http://afgan.kz/ vet/art.htm (accessed on July 4, 2008). 11 Thomas S. Szayna, The Ethnic Factor in the Soviet Armed Forces: The Muslim Dimension, Santa Monica: RAND, 1991. 12 Radio Moscow report, December 14, 1989, quoted in Szayna, The Ethnic Factor in the Soviet Armed Forces, p. 43. 13 Rustam Shukurov, “Tadzhikistan: muki vospominaniya” [Tajikistan: The pain of recollection] in Natsional’naya istoriya v sovetskom i postsovetskom gosudarstvah [National history in Soviet and post-Soviet states], Moscow: AIRO-XX, 1999, p. 234. 14 Ibid., p 235. 15 Ibid., p. 249. 16 One of the prominent works on ethno-national history written during that period was B.G. Gafurov, Korotkaya istorya Tadzhikov [The brief history of the Tajik people], Moscow: Politizdat, 1949. 17 Interview with an Afghan veteran, Bishkek, 2008; Also recounted by Frans Kalintsevitch, http://www.lenta.ru (accessed on September 3, 2008). 18 As quoted in Szayna, The Ethnic Factor in the Soviet Armed Forces, 1991, p. 41; also see “Heroes of the Soviet Union–Afghanistan”, Jane’s Intelligence Review, March 1989. 19 Nailya Talysbayeva, “Ya vspominau utrenny Kabul” [I am recalling the morning in Kabul], memoirs by a former propagandist in Afghanistan, http://afgan.kz/vet/ nailja3.htm (accessed on July 5, 2008). 20 Interview with an Afghan veteran, Almaty, June 2008. 21 Alexander Alexiev, Inside the Soviet Army in Afghanistan, Santa Monica: RAND, 1988, p. 7. 22 A reference to the Piandj river, which forms a part of the Afghanistan–Tajikutan border. 23 Kovalyev, Aleksandr, “Vsem, kto verit v pravdu, druzhbu i lubov’” [To all who believe in truth, friendship and love], Gvardiya Rossii, 1(40), February 2008. 24 According to the data by the Russian Union of Afghan Veterans, http://www.rsva.ru/ rsva/index.shtml (accessed on November 30, 2008).

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25 Khakim Rafik, “Razmyshleniya offitsera zapasa o vvode sovetskih voisk v Afganistan” [Thoughts of a reservist officer about deployment of Soviet troops to Afghanistan], http://www.afgan.kz/vet/abdul1.htm (accessed on July 5, 2008). 26 Boris Gromov, Ogranichenny kontingent [A Limited Contingent], Moscow: Kul’tura, 1994. 27 An international NGO uniting over 170 veteran organizations from 89 countries representing some 25 million to 30 million veterans worldwide. 28 Press release, Republican Union of Veterans of the War in Afghanistan, April 2008, Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. 29 Interview with a member of the Osh AVU, Bishkek, May 2008. 30 Interview with a member of the AVU, Bishkek, April 2008. 31 Interview with a veteran, Bishkek, July 2008. 32 Interview with a veteran, Almaty, July 2008. 33 Interview with an Afghan veteran, Almaty, May 2008. 34 Interview with a member of the AVU, Bishkek, April 2008. 35 Interview with an Afghan veteran, Almaty, June 2008. 36 “Rabota spetsnaza” [Spetsnaz’s work], http://afgan.kz/vet.htm (accessed on July 5, 2008). 37 Interview with Afghan veteran Frans Kalintsevitch, http://www.lenta.ru (accessed on September 3, 2008). 38 Victor Dubovitsky, “Afghansky remeik” [The Afghan Remake], Gvardiya Rossii, 1(40), February 2008. 39 Interview with a representative of the Tajik Ministry of Interior, Dushanbe, April 2008. 40 “Mirotrvortsy Afghanistanu ne pomogut” [Peacekeepers will not help Afghanistan], Navigator, March 5, 2002. 41 Yerbol Zhumagulov, “Kazakhstan gotovit mirotvorchesky batal’ien dlya otpravki v Afganistan” [Kazakhstan prepares peacekeepers battalion to send to Afghanistan], Institute for War and Peace Reporting, http://www.iwpr.net/index.php?apc_state= hen&s=o&o=p=arr&l=RU&s=f&o=154657 (accessed on July 4, 2008). 42 Interview with a member of the AVU, Bishkek, April 2008. 3 Military institutions as part of state-building during independence 1 Roy Allison, “Military Forces in the Soviet Successor States: An Analysis of the military policies, force disposition and evolving threat perceptions of the former Soviet states”, London: The International Institute for Strategic Studies, Adelphi Paper – 280, October 1993, p. 7. 2 Strategic Survey 1990–1991, London: The International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1991. 3 William E., Odom, The Collapse of the Soviet Military, Yale University Press, 1998, p. 379. 4 Ibid. p. 381. 5 Odom, The Collapse of the Soviet Military. 6 Allison, “Military Forces in the Soviet Successor States”, p. 10. 7 Odom, The Collapse of the Soviet Military, p. 384. 8 Allison, “Military Forces in the Soviet Successor States”, p. 20. 9 Rustaon Burnashev and Irina Chernykh, Bezopasnost’ v Tsentral’noy Azii: metodologicheskie ramki analiza [Security in Central Asia: Methodological Frames of Analysis], Almaty, 2006, p. 159. 10 Ibid. p. 160. 11 For example military colleges and schools. 12 Interview with an Uzbek political expert, Bishkek, July 2008. 13 “Uzbekistan segodnya: ‘militarizaciya’ kadrov, nalog na borody i chem zanimaetsia ombudsman S. Rashidova” [Uzbekistan Today: ‘Militarization’ of Cadres, Tax on Beards and What Does Ombudsman S. Rashidova Do], Ezgulik, July 3, 2004.

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14 Among them Police General Ravshan Haidarov, Lieutenant Shodi Sadiev, Mayor Kamolitdin Suleimanov and Colonel Ural Mamatkulov. 15 Burnashev and Chernykh, Bezopasnost’ v Tsentral’noy Azii, p. 76. 16 Marcel de Haas, “The Development of Russia’s Security Policy, 1992–2002” in Russian Military Reform, 1992–2002, Anne C. Aldis and Roger N. McDermott (Eds), London and Portland: Frank Cass Publishers, 2003. 17 William D. O’Malley, “Central Asia and South Caucasus as an Arena of Operations: Challenges and Constraints” in Fault lines of Conflict in Central Asia and the South Caucasus. Implications for the US Army, Olga Oliker and Thomas S. Szayna (Eds), Santa-Monica: RAND Corporation, 2003. 18 “The Military Balance 1992–1993”, London: The International Institute for Strategic Studies, 1993. 19 Phillip A. Petersen, “Control of Nuclear Weapons in the CIS”, Jane’s Intelligence Review, Jane’s Information Group, July 1, 1993. 20 Paul Brown, “Kazakhstan Reveals Solutions to its Nuclear Waste Crisis: Import More”, The Guardian, November 21, 2002. 21 Government of Kazakhstan, The Military Doctrine of the Republic of Kazakhstan, 2000. 22 According to the information provided by the Kazakh Ministry of Defense, available at http://www.mod.kz (accessed on November 20, 2008). 23 Murat Laimulin, presentation at the seminar organized by the Geneva Center for Democratic Control of the Armed Forces, Geneva, November 2003. 24 Interview with a Kazakh military expert, Almaty, July 2008. 25 The Military Doctrine of the Republic of Kazakhstan, 2000. 26 Roger McDermott, “Kazakhstan Launches Ambitious Military Reform Plan”, Eurasia Daily Monitor, 18 April, 2007. 27 The Military Doctrine of the Republic of Kazakhstan, 2007. 28 Interview with a Kyrgyz parliamentarian, April 2001. 29 Igor Grebenshchikov, “Kyrgyz Army in Crisis: The Lessons Learned in Two Recent Military Campaigns have Failed to Usher Major Reforms of the Cash-Strapped Kyrgyz Army”, Institute for War and Peace Reporting, March 14, 2001. 30 Government of Kyrgyzstam, The Military Doctrine of the Kyrgyz Republic, 2002. 31 “Kyrgyzstan: Commander Profiles National Guard on 11th Anniversary”, Obshestvenny Reiting, September 25, 2003. 32 Interview with Muzafar Olimov, Dushanbe, March 2004. 33 Interview with a Tajik military expert, Dushanbe, July 2006. 34 Shirin Akiner and Catherine Barnes, “The Tajik Civil War: Causes and Dynamics”, Accord, March 10, 2001. 35 Interview with a Tajik military expert, Dushanbe, May 2008. 36 Interview with a Tajik military expert, Dushanbe, May 2008. 37 For example, Justin Burke’s translation of the report on Turkmenistan’s military doctrine from “Neytralnyy Turkmenistan”, Eurasia Insight, February 1, 2002; or an article “K shestoi godovschine neitraliteta Turkmenistana” [To Sixth Anniversary of Turkmenistan’s Neutrality], Inform&Form Agency, available at http://info-f.uz/turk4.html (accessed on March 12, 2009). 38 Both decrees are available at http://www.turkmenistan.gov.tm/ (accessed on March 12, 2009). 39 MRDs are based in Ashgabat, Gushgy and Gyzylarbat. 40 Farkhad Tolipov and Roger N. McDermott, “Uzbekistan and the US: Partners Against Terrorism”, The Review of International Affairs, 2(4), 2003. 41 Rustam Burnashev and Irina Chernykh, “Changes in Uzbekistan’s Military Policy after the Andijan Events”, The China and Eurasia Forum Quarterly, 5(1), February 2007. 42 An observation made by Rustam Burnashev, professor at the German-Kazakh University, Almaty, July 2008.

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43 Interview with Rustam Burnashev, professor at the German-Kazakhstan University, Almaty, July 2008. 44 The Military Doctrine of the Republic of Uzbekistan, 1995. 45 Kholisa Sodikova “Uzbekistan’s National Security Policy and Nonproliferation”, The Nonproliferation Review, Winter, 1999. 46 Odil Ruzaliev, “Uzbekistan’s Military Doctrine is Tested by Insurgents”, http://www. uzland.uz, 2000. 47 “Vooruyhennze sily Respubliki Uzbekistan – garant stabil’nosti v strane i regione” [The Armed Forces of the Republic of Uzbekistan – Guarantee of Stability in the Country and Region], at http://www.uzbekistan.uz, 2005. 48 Rustam Temirov, “Uzbekistan’s Army Going Professional”, Eurasia Insight, May 14, 2004. 4 Russian Bear v. Asian Tiger: Competing regional security quasi-regimes 1 Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People’s Republic of China, http://www.fmprc.gov.cn/ eng/topics/sco/t57970.htm (accessed on June 27, 2008). 2 Gulnoza Saidazimova, “Central Asia: What Does Closure of US Military Base in Uzbekistan Mean”, RFL/RL, August 1, 2005. 3 Interview with Farkhod Tolipov, 2008. Also in numerous publications by Farkhad Tolipov. 4 Pan Guang, presentation at Central Asia – Caucasus Institute, Johns Hopkins University, Washington, D.C., May 22, 2008. 5 Aleksandr Knyazev is a leading proponent of such views, see “Gosudarstvennyi perevorot 24 marta 2005 goda v Kirgizii” [Coup d’etat in Kyrgyzstan of March 24, 2005], Bishkek, 2006. 6 Interview with an EU official dealing with Central Asia, Brussels, March 2008. 7 Collective Security Treaty Organization, www.dkb.gov.ru/start/index.htm (accessed on December 1, 2008). 8 Interview with an expert on Tajikistan, Washington DC, June 2008. 9 Interfax, 14 May 2007. 10 “Iran wants full SCO membership”, RIA Novosti, March 26, 2008. 11 Interview with a political scientist, Bishkek, July 2008. 12 Interview with a Russian political scientist, Washington DC, May 2008. 13 Oleg Gorupai, “ODKB po silam mnogoe” [CSTO is capable of many things], Krasnaia zvesda, May 6, 2008. 14 Press release at the CSTO’s official website, http://www.odkb.gov.ru/start/index.htm (accessed on June 30, 2008). 15 E. Marchenko, “Vozhidanii ataki” [In expectation of an attack], Slovo Kyrgyzstana, July 29, 2004. 16 Ivan Safronov, “Na primere Kirgizii viennyh SNG obuchaut kontrrevolutsionnoi bor’be” [Following Kyrgyzstan’s example, the CIS military is being trained to counter revolutionary combat], Kommersant, April 4, 2005. 17 Andrey Korolyev, “‘Rubezh-2006’: igra muskulamu” [‘Rubezh-2005’: muscle play], www.gazeta.kz (accessed on September 5, 2006). 18 Ibid. 19 Rossiiskaya gazeta, August 13, 2007. 20 “Nazarbayev: Russia’s Actions in South Ossetia Intended to Protect Civilians”, http://www.akipress.kg (accessed on July 29, 2008). 21 Interview with Sanat Kushunbayev, Senior Associate at Kazakhstan Institute for Strategic Studies under the President, Almaty, July 2008. 22 Interview with Adrey Grozin, Head of Central Asia division at the Institute of CIS Studies, Moscow, “Kazakhstan vneset vklad v ODKB tankami NATO?” [Will

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Kazakhstan Contribute to CSTO with NATO Tanks?], http://www.km.ru (accessed on April 9, 2007). 23 Interview with Sanat Kushkunbayev. 24 Interview with Asel Murzakulova, researcher at the Institute for Strategic Studies under the President of the Kyrgyz Republic, Bishkek, July 2008. 5 NATO and the West in Central Asia 1 “Russia Wary of Southern Discomfort”, Jane’s Intelligence Review, September 26, 2008. 2 “PAP-DIB Factsheet”, http://www.bmlv.gv.at/pdf_pool/publikationen/10_wg13_fact_ 150.pdf (accessed October 13, 2008). 3 Interview with a Kazakh military official, Almaty, June 2008. 4 Joshua Kucera, “Interview: Lieutenant General Bulat Sembinov, Deputy Defense Minister, Kazakhstan”, Jane’s Intelligence Review, March 26, 2008. 5 Elizabeth Sherwood-Randall, “Building Cooperative Security Ties in Central Asia”, Stanford Journal of International Relations, (3)2, 2002. 6 Jim DeTemple, “Kyrgyzstan–Uzbekistan Pact: Implications for the Collective Security Treaty”, Eurasia Insight, October 25, 2000. 7 Alisher Taskanov, “Faktory integratsii i dezintegratsii Tsentralinoi Azii” [Factors of Integration and Disintegration of Central Asia], paper presented at a UNESCO conference Journalism in the 21st Century held in Osh, April 2001. 8 Lyle J. Goldstein, “Making the Most of Central Asian Partnerships”, Joint Forces Quarterly, Summer 2002. 9 Ibid. 10 Mukhtar Altynbayer, “Armiya novogo veka” [The new century’s army], Kazahstanskaia Pravda, May 6, 2006. 11 Roger N. McDermott and Col. Igor Mukhamedov, “Kazakhstan’s Peacekeeping Support in Iraq”, Central Asia – Caucasus Analyst, January 28, 2004. 12 Roger N. McDermott, “Kazakhstan’s Partnership with NATO: Strengths, Limits and Prognosis”, China and Eurasia Forum Quarterly, (5)1, 2007, p. 15. 13 McDermott, “Kazakhstan’s Partnership with NATO”. 14 “Kazakhstan”, EU Bilateral Trade and Trade with the World, http://ec.europa.eu/trade/ issues/bilateral/countries/kazakhstan/index_en.htm, (accessed on May, 28 2008). 15 Interview with the leader of an NGO working to promote human rights in Kyrgyzstan, Bishkek, January 2007. 16 AKIpress, August 29, 2008. 17 Alexander Cooley, Base Politics: Democratic Change and the U.S. Military Overseas, Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2008, pp. 223–226. 18 International Institute for Strategic Studies, Military Balance 2004, 2004, pp. 142–143. 19 Human Rights Watch, “Saving Its Secrets”: Government Repression in Andijan, May 2008. 20 Shirin Akiner, Violence in Andijan, 13 May 2005: An Independent Assessment, Johns Hopkins University and Uppsala University (Sweden), 2005. 21 Bruce Pannier, “Uzbekistan Opens Arms to U.S. Military”, Jane’s Intelligence Review, April 17, 2008. 6 From internationalist to post-Soviet nationalist military 1 Cynthia H. Enloe, Ethnic Soldier: State Security in Divided Societies, Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1980, p. 15. 2 Rogers Brubaker, “Nationhood and the National Question in the Soviet Union and PostSoviet Eurasia: An Institutional Account”, Theory and Society, 23(1), 1994. 3 Janowitz quoted in Enloe, Ethnic Soldier, p. 156.

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4 Kerry Longhurst, “The Concept of Strategic Culture”, in G. Kuemmel and Andreas D. Pruefert (Eds), Military Sociology, Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, 2000. 5 In the literature, it is often referred to a “fine-tuning” or “fundamental changes”, see Longhurst, “The Concept of Strategic Culture”. 6 For excellent research on Soviet military literature see Mark T. Hooker, The Military Uses of Literature: Fiction and the Armed Forces in the Soviet Union, London, Praeger, 1996. 7 Ibid., p. 7. 8 Hooker, The Military Uses of Literature. 9 Ibid., p. 8. 10 It should be noted that 15 years after attaining independence, both academicians and political elites are still largely comprised of Soviet-educated individuals. 11 In the Russian language the words are Rodina (Motherland) and Otechestvo (Fatherland), the latter is used more often in the context of the Second World War. 12 Taras Kuzio, “Soviet-Era Uzbek Elites Erase Russia from National Identity”, Eurasia Insight, April 20, 2002. 13 Islam Karimov, Uzbekistan on the Threshold of the Twenty-First Century, Richmond: Curzon Press, 1997. 14 Nursultan Nazarbayev, My stroim novoe gosudarstvo [we are building a new state], Moscow: Paleya-Mishin, 2000, pp. 266–271. 15 Polat Shozimov, “Tajikistan’s ‘Year of Aryan Civilization’ and the Competition of Ideologies”, Central Asia – Caucasus Analyst, October 5, 2005. 16 For instance, in Kyrgyzstan, Dastan Sarygulov has been very active in promoting the period of Tengrism. His ideas were hardly supported in the state or society, but nevertheless provoked widespread discussions. 17 Argued by Enloe, Ethnic Soldier, p. 51. 18 Enloe talks about boundaries in states’ recruitment policy of various ethnicities. As an example, Enloe mentions the Soviet Union where ethic homogeneity of the ruling elite impacted conscription patterns among other ethnicities. Although there were some ethnic mixtures in the Soviet Army, the central control belonged to Russians. Enloe, Ethnic Soldier, p. 17. 19 Morris Janowitz, The Professional Soldier, London: The Free Press of Glencoe, 1967; Joris Van Bladel, The All-Volunteer Force in the Russian Mirror: Transformation without Change, Lier: Rijksuniversiteit Groningen, 2004. 20 Samuel Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Practice of Civil– Military Relations, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1957; Samuel Huntington, “Power Expertise and the Military Profession”, Daedalus, Vol. 92, 1963. 21 Enloe, Ethnic Soldier, p. 2. 22 Stephen Peter Rosen, “Military Effectiveness: Why Society Matters (in Does Strategic Culture Matter?)”, International Security, 19 (4), 1995. 23 The 1999–2000 clashes between Kyrgyz border guards with guerillas of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan motivated the Central Asian governments to reform their large and immobile military institutions into smaller and decentralized groups which would be able to mobilize quickly and work in difficult conditions on mountain ranges. 24 Murad Esenov, “The Anti-Terrorist Campaign and the Regional Security System”, The IISS Russian Regional Perspectives Journal for Foreign and Security Policy, 2, pp. 26–28. 25 Kyrgyzstan’s cultivation of Kurmanjan Datka, a female political leader from the Alai Mountains who initially resisted Russian occupation, is a partial exception. 26 Pavel S. Belan and Tultai B. Balakaev (Eds), Istorichestky opyt zaschity otechestva: voennaya istoriya Kazahstana [Historical experience of the defense of the fatherland: Military history of Kazakhstan], Almaty: BORKI, 1999; Aibolat K. Kushkumbayev, Military Affairs of the Kazakhs in the XVIIth–XVIIIth Centuries, Almaty: Daik-Press, 2001. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid.

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29 Martha B. Olcott, Kazakhstan: Unfulfilled Promise, Washington DC: Carnegie Endowment, 2002. 30 Kushkumbayev, Military Affairs of the Kazakhs in the XVIIth–XVIIIth Centuries. 31 Ibid., p. 34. 32 Kushkumbayev, Military Affairs of the Kazakhs in the XVIIth–XVIIIth Centuries. 33 Nazarbayev, My stroim novoe gosudarstvo, p. 266. 34 Ibid., p. 386. 35 Askar Akayev, Kyrgyzskaya gosudarstvennost’ i narodnyi epos Manas [Kyrgyz statehood and the national epic Manas], Bishkek: Uchkun, 2002. 36 For instance, an ultra-rightist politician, Kyrgyz Ombudsman, Tursunbai Bakir Uulu. 37 Katarina Radzihovskaya, “Interv’u s Dastanom Sarygulovym ‘Ot tengrianstva v gosudarstvennuy doktrinu Kirgizii mogli by voit ...” [Interview with Dastan Sarygulov: From Tengriism to state doctrine of Kyrgyzstan could be included …], Bely Parohod, July 25, 2005. 38 The Tajik government became increasingly suppressive of democratic freedoms in the aftermath of the Tulip Revolution in Kyrgyzstan in March 2005. 39 Interview with a Tajik expert, head of the Shark research center, Saodat Olimova, Dushanbe, March 2004. 40 Polat Shozimov, presentation on Tajikistan at SAIS, Johns Hopkins University, Washington DC, USA, March 4, 2005. 41 Deutsche Welle, 8 January 2005. 42 Rahim Masov, Tadjiki: Vytesnenie i assimiliaciya [The Tajiks: Displacement and assimilation], Dushanbe: Tajik National Museum, 2003. 43 Emomali Rakhmonov, Tadjikistan na paroge XXI veka [Tajikistan at the Threshold of the Twenty-first Century], Dushanbe: Sharq ozod, 2001, pp. 50–51. 44 Among the most outspoken scholars on this view is Masov, Tadjiki. 45 Alisher Ilkhamov, “Impoverishment of the masses in the transition period: signs of an emerging ‘new poor’ identity in Uzbekistan”, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 20(1), 2001; Andrew F. March, “The use and abuse of history: ‘national ideology’ as transcendental object in Islam Karimov’s ‘ideology of national independence’”, Central Asian Survey, 21(4) 2002. 46 James Critchlow, Nationalism in Uzbekistan: A Soviet Republic’s Road to Sovereignty, Boulder: Westview Press, 1991. 47 Karimov, Uzbekistan on the Threshold of the Twenty-First Century, p. 87. 48 Islam Karimov, “Den’ uvazhenia” [ A day of reverence] in Uzbekistan:Natsional’naya nezavisimost’, ekonomika, politika, ideologiya [Uzbekistan: national independence, economy, politics, ideology], Tashkent: Uzbekistan, 1996, p. 344. 49 Karimov, Uzbekistan on the Threshold of the Twenty-First Century, p. 101. 50 Ibid., p. 100. 51 Ibid., p. 103. 52 Saparmurat Turkmenbashi, Ruhnama, Ashgabad, 2001 and 2004. 53 International Crisis Group, Repression and Regression in Turkmenistan: A New International Strategy, Osh/Brussels, 2004. 54 Ibid. 55 Ibid. Conclusion 1 Il’dar Bikkenin, Moya Armiya [My Army], Bishkek, 2006, p. 107. 2 William E., Odom, The Collapse of the Soviet Military, Yale University Press, 1998, p. 389. 3 Barnett R. Rubin and Akhmed Rashid, “From Great Game to Great Bargain: Ending Chaos in Afghanistan and Pakistan”, Foreign Affairs, November/December 2008.

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Index

VII Party meeting 17 201st Motor Rifle Division 1; during Soviet-Afghan war 35; in Tajik-Russian relations 88–9, 106; status change 55, 57, 73; Tajik civil war 74 Abylaikhan 117, 124 Adolat 1 Afghan Veteran Union 33–4, 137; in Baku 46; Kazakhstan chapter 44, 50; Kyrgyz chapter 44; Russian chapter 42–3; Tajik chapter 44–5; Uzbek chapter 44 Afghanistan 44–53; anti-Soviet unrest 34; causalities 36; during formation of Soviet regime 8, 15, 20, 26; inter-ethnic antagonism 37; in war with Soviet regime 5, 33–6, 39, 52, 111, 137; national militaries 120, 136, 139; NATO in 104–6, 111–13; prisoners of war 36; regional security cooperation 81, 83–4, 86, 88, 98, 100; role in independence 53, 60, 64, 71, 74, 77; soldier internationalist in 37–9 Africa 29, 35, 64 Ak Zhol 134, 136 Akayev, Askar 70; ideologies of 122, 126–7; military reform 2, 70; ouster of 45, 94; relations with US 86, 110 Akhmedov, Kosimali 3 Akhmetov, Danial 4, 62, 68, 99 Alimov, Surobsho 45 Almatov, Zakirjon 3, 78, 135 Altyn Adam 117, 125, 134 Amir Timur 116–17, 119, 122–4, 128–30, 132 Andijan massacre 3, 78–9, 84–6, 94–5, 105, 108, see also Karimov Andropov, Yury 35

anti-Western sentiments among military: among Afghan veterans 49; SCO 84; CSTO 87, 89, 100, 102, 114; in Kyrgyzstan 110 Arazov, Redzhepbai 62 Arbatov, Aleksey 59 Asia: Kazakhstan’s policy in 67–8, 125; Soviet Union in 29, 34 Aushev, Ruslan 46 Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic 13, 23–4 Babrak Karmal 41 Baikonur space station 60 Bakiyev, Kurmanbek 72, 136; control over military 72, 136; CSTO 94, 97–8, 110, 114; Nazarbayev 98, 101, 109; relations with US 84, 110; SCO 109, 114; 114, 136 Baku, Soviet railway to 20 Baltic states: conscripts 37, 39, 48; fight for independence 53–5, 58, 108 Bashkir nationals 15 Batken conflict 4, 70, 87, 104, 107; and Afghan veterans 44–5; Tajik government 74; CSTO 93 Bekkeldiyev, Cholponbek 33 Belarus: as CSTO member 55–6, 58, 89–91, 96, 98, 102; Bolsheviks 27, 37 Berdymukhammedov, Gurbanguly 77, 87, 89, 114; as ideologue 131, 137; energy cooperation 106, 112 Bolsheviks: and basmachi 21; and Jadids 21; army 8, 10–11, 16, 18, 27; in Bukhara 25, 32; in Khoresm 25; recruitment strategies 9, 15, 18, 22, 25, 27–9; Soviet state creation 23–5, 27 Borudzha, Nikolai 89, 92, 96 Brezhnev, Leonid 35

156

Index

Bukhara emirate 9, 14, 20–1, 23–6; after independence 113; in ideological writings 117, 128 Caucasus: and CSTO 95, 98; and EU 114; and NATO 105–111, 139; in independence 54, 58, 81; in SovietAfghan war 38–9; in World war II 29–30; Red Army 15, 28 Central Asian Battalion: dissolution of 108; joint drills 106–7; NATO 105–6 Central Asian Cooperation Organization 59 Central Asian Koreans 132, 138 Central Asian Union 100–1 Chechnya 34, 43–4, 49, 111 Chernenko, Konstantin 35 China: Afghanistan 86, 100; assistance to Kyrgyzstan 84, 110; assistance to Tajikistan 84; border management 66, 70, 86; military drills 93–4, 106, 113; policy in Xingjian 81, 85, 93, 96; relations with Kazakhstan 66, 83, 91, 99, 101, 112; relations with Russia 82, 85, 91, 94–6, 109, 137; relations with Turkmenistan 86, 91; role in Central Asia 85–6, 98–9, 103–4; SCO 6, 81, 85, 90, 92–3; Soviet Union 60 Chinese People’s Liberation Army 93 Chokayev, Mustafa 15–16 Chotbayev, Abdygul 45, 71 Cold War 11, 29; post era 55, 64–5; Soviet-Afghan war 33–4, 49; thinking among military 87, 102, 135 Collective Security Treaty 58, 81, 87 CSTO 3–4, 81; CIS 85, 92; Collective Rapid Reaction Forces 87, 93; communication inside organization 91; Georgia 85, 111, 135; influence on Central Asia 69, 75, 82, 84, 137; Kant base 89; Kazakhstan 82–3, 93, 97–8, 100–1; Kyrgyzstan 88, 90, 95, 110–22; military drills 86, 92–6, 139; militarysports club 96; national documents 98–100; NATO 71, 87, 89, 108, 135; peace-keeping troops 106; relations with Russian policy in 4, 6, 82; SCO 68–9, 81–4, 93; the structure of 87–92; Turkmenistan 89; Uzbekistan 113 colonialism and army 119 Commissariat on Muslim Affairs 17 CIS: Armed Forces 56–9; emergence of 56–8; Kazakhstan 57–8; Kyrgyzstan 56, 58, 98, 110; military cooperation 56,

91, 107; Turkmenistan 58, 82; see also CSTO Communist Party 18, 19; Afghanistan war 35; executive committees 15; military 14–5; of Turkistan 18, 22, 25, 32 Council on Migration 89 Czechoslovakia 64–5 Dubovitsky, Victor 49 Dzerzhinsky, Felix 116 Eastern Europe: conscripts 22, 48; independence movements 35; Soviet Union 3 Enloe, Cynthia 123 Ergashev, Ismail 3 ethnic discrimination 30 Eurasian Economic Community 59; CSTO 82, 92; Karimov 101; Russia 100, 102 European Union: EU Central Asia Strategy 86; European Neighborhood Policy 113 Farsi language in Soviet Army 34, 38–9 February 1917 Revolution 9, 21, 32 February 23 holiday 11, 32 female propagandist 40–1 Ferghana Valley: after 1991 39, 78–9, 122; during Soviet period 12, 21; instability 93 Fortieth Army 5, 16, 33; inter-ethnic antagonism 37, 40; structure of 35 Franco-British colonialism 12, 29 Frunze, Mikhail: as commander of Turkistan 19, 25; cult of 116; one-man rule 12 Georgia: and Afghan veterans 49; breakaway territories of 4, 82, 109, 113, 137; CIS 58, 87, 97–8; CSTO 84, 95, 97; NATO 108, 114; nationalist movements in 53–4; revolution in 11; Russia’s policy in 6, 34, 82, 91, 104, 111; SCO 84–5, 109 GUAM 59 Gorbachev, Mikhail: and Soviet military 36, 47, 53–5; glasnost policy 36, 41, 53 Gromov, Boris 43–4 Grozny 20 Gulyamov, Kadyr 3–4 hazing: in independence 138; in Soviet Army 38, 43, 47, 61 Hero of the Soviet Union honor 31 Hizb-ut-Tahrir 48, 87, 113, 134

Index Hojiyev, Jumaboy 1 Hungary 34 Ibrahim Bek 26–7 ideas of Caliphate 39 ideological training 17–18 ideological traitors 18 images of heroes 4, 120–4 Individual Partnership Action Plan 106, 109 influence of media 111, 120; in Central Asia 91, 102; in Kyrgyzstan 71, 110–11; in Russia 68, 86, 91, 96, 106, 108; Soviet-Afghan war 4, 44; Soviet period 29, 120 Ingushetia 40, 46, 95 Intercontinental Ballistic Missile 65 inter-ethnic antagonism 8, 30; in SovietAfghan war 38–9 International Security Assistance Force 105, 109, 112–13 Iran 24, 110, 112, 139: and CSTO 89–90, 100; relations with SCO 86; role during Soviet-Afghan war 40; Tajikistan 64 Isakov, Ismail 71–2 Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan 4, 64, 87, 113, 134 Kyrgyz military 2, 70, 107; Afghan veterans 39, 45, 48 Islamic Renaissance Party: civil war 62, 74; state ideology 128 Ismail Samani, different interpretations of 121–2, 128; legacy of 117, 121, 125, 134; military reform 122, 128 Jadids: and Red Army 13, 21 Janowitz, Morris 119 Kabul: and NATO 105; SCO’s policy in 83; Soviet-Afghan war 33, 41, 48 Kalmyks 17 Kalyev, Bakytbek 136 Kamalov, Imam Muhammadrafiq 4 Karakum desert 27 Karimov, Islam 78–80, 136; confrontation with religious opposition 1–3, 39, 94, 113; suppression of Andijan riots 85, 137–8; military cadre reshuffle 4, 62, 78, 13; and Uzbek-US relations 84, 86, 108, 112–14; nationalization of military assets 57, 79; as ideologue 128–30, 134; and SCO 112; relations with Kazakhstan 101; and CSTO 87–8, 113; relations with Russia 121 Karshi-Khanabad base 104, 107, 112–14

157

Karzai, Hamid 50 Kazakhstan: air defense 99; and SCO, see SCO; armed forces 65; CIS membership, see CIS; economy 2, 66, 101; ideological projects in 117–18, 121–6; Kazakh historic heroes 124–6; military districts 65; military doctrine 66–70, 98–99; military reform 2, 5, 52, 61–3, 65, 68; Naval Forces 65; OSCE chairmanship 2, 62, 69, 97, 136; relations with CSTO, see CSTO; relations with EU 114; relations with NATO, see NATO; relations with Russia 99; relations with US 64; relations with Uzbekistan 101; Sergeant Corps 69; Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty 65; veterans, see Afghan Veteran Union; war in Afghanistan 36, 40, 43 Kazan 27 KazBat 50, 108 KGB 55 Khairulloyev, Sherali 66, 74, 88, 136 Khiva khanate 9, 24 Khodjyiev, Jumabai 39 Klimov, S 23 Kobet, Konstantin 56–7 Kolbin, Gennady 53 Kongantiyev, Moldomusa 136 korenizatsiya 13, 32 Kryuchkov, Vladimir 55 Kunayev, Dinmukhammed 53 Kushkumbayev, Aibolat 125 Kutuzov, Mikhail 117 Kyrgyz ASSR 13, 24 Kyrgyzstan: and CIS, see CIS; and CSTO, see CSTO; and NATO, see NATO; and SCO, see SCO; armed forces of 5, 55; economy 13, 70; Institute for Strategic Studies 100; Kant airbase 88–9, 97; Manas National Airport 71, 104, 110; military doctrine of 70–2; military reform 2, 61–3, 71, 82, 104; relations with EU 114; relations with Kazakhstan 101, 109, 111; relations with US 110; relations with Uzbekistan 4; state ideologies of 116–17, 126–7; Tulip Revolution 84, 86, 94; relations with Russia 86, 100, 109, 111; veterans, see Afghan Veteran Union kyzyl asker 22, 27 Latin America 35 Lenin, Vladimir I. 9; and creation of nations 14, 18–19, 23; ideology of

158

Index

Lenin, Vladimir I. 27–8; New Economic Policy 28; Soviet Army 14, 17–18, 21, 23; Tsarist army 11, 18; Turkistan 12–13 Lenugoloks 18 literacy rates 22–3, 30–1

Nazi Germany 5, 10, 30, 32, 37, 97 Niyazov, Saparmurat: military policies of 57, 77, 80, 121; relations with Russia 76, 89; state ideologies of 130–1, 137 Nobiyev, Rakhmon 1–2 Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty 65, 79

manaps 19–20 Manas airbase 84, 86, 110 Manas as ideology 43, 116–17, 119, 122, 126–7 Marxism 10, 24, 32, 35 Matlubov, Bahodir 78, 135 Medvedev, Dmitry 49, 82, 92, 98, 109, 111 military college 18; Djizak 78; Kazan 27; Russia 66; Turkistan 13 military commissariats 15 military district: Central Asian 27; Privolzhsko-Ural’sky 89, 96; Turkistani 5, 33, 60 military ideological literature: imported 39; post-Soviet 118, 121–2, 125, 132, 138; Soviet 18, 23, 29, 120 military infrastructure 5, 22, 54; during independence 76; in Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan 55–6; of SCO and CSTO 82 Mujahideen 35, 39–41, 45, 49–50, 52 Muslim conscripts 9, 22, 26, 40

October 1917 Revolution 11, 15–16, 27, 32, 55, 133 Operation Enduring Freedom 49, 71, 99, 104 OSCE 2, 62, 68–9; Kazakhstan’s chairmanship 68, 97, 100, 109, 139 Oruzbayev, Kubanychbek 72 Osh unrests of 1991 45, 127

Nadir Khan 26 Nagorno-Karabakh 53, 92 Namangan 1–2, 39 National Commissar 18 national flags 4 National Security Service 45, 50, 78, 135 NATO 6, 104: Afghanistan 39, 49, 88, 104; and AVUs 50; and EU 113–14; and military reform 119, 135; CentrAsBat 105, 107–8; Kazakhstan 2–3, 83, 99, 104–6, 108–110; Kyrgyzstan 71, 108–111; Military reform 3; relations with CIS 58, see also CIS; regional cooperation 82, 104–5, 108, 135–6, 139; relations with CSTO 87, 89, 90, 102; Tajikistan 111–12; Turkmenistan 111–12 Nazarbayev, Nursultan 3, 5, 135; 2030 Agenda 134; Central Asia Union 100–1; CIS forces 57; military doctrine 68; military forces 57, 68; regional cooperation 83; relations with Russia 97–8, 109; state ideologies of 116, 121, 125–6

Pakistan 59, 86, 93, 139 Partnership Action Plan 105–6 Partnership for Peace: Peace Support Operations 2, 68, 104–5, 113, 135; CentrAsBat 106, 108; in national doctrines 98–9; Tajikistan 111–12; Uzbekistan 112 Pavlov, Valentin 55 People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs 17 People’s Democratic Party 128, 134 post-Soviet medals: Ardager 43; Batyr shapaghaty 43; Manas 43; Veteran of the combat operations 43 President’s Guard 7, 62–3 Putin, Vladimir 97, 137; anti-Western rhetoric 49, 84; policy towards Georgia 49, 111; regional cooperation 59, 81, 92, 94, 96 Rafik, Khakim 43 Rakhmon, Emomali 74–5, 134, 136; during civil war 73; ideologies of 121, 128; military doctrine 75, 98; military reform 62, 74, 88 Rastokhez 53 Red Army 5, 8, 14–15; and Soviet power 14, 17; Central Asia 13; establishment of 11; ethnicities in 8, 17; in Tashkent 13, 15; recruitment 8, 12, 15 red officers 27, 31 regional alignment 100–1 Regional Council 15 regional quasi-regimes 100–1 Revolutionary Military Council 21 Rubets, Oleg 50 Ruhnama 116, 130–32, 137 Rumsfeld, Donald 84, 110

Index Russian civil war 20, 22–3, 27–9; and Central Asia 10, 12; and Red Army 8; military economy of 13 Russian neo-colonialism 102 Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic 53–1 Russian–Turkmen Treaty on Joint Measures 76 Russification 12, 30, 38, 120 Saipov, Alisher 4 Samarqand 25 Saudi Arabia 59 Security Council: Kyrgyzstan 70–2, 81, 111, 136; UN 100, 105; Uzbekistan 44, 52, 79 September 11 terrorist attacks 31, 52, 87, 104–5, 108, 113 SCO 6, 81; and regional security 81–5, 98–100; and the West 82, 84, 99, 108; engagement in Afghanistan 88, 106; in Kazakh military doctrine 68–9; in Tajik military doctrine 75; Kazakhstan 93, 96; Kyrgyzstan 83, 93, 109–11; military drills 92–6; Regional Anti-Terrorism Structure 84; Russia’s role 82–3, 85–6, 91, 97, 101; Shanghai Spirit 85; structure of 83–7; the creation of Shanghai Five 83; the three evils 82; Tibetan Autonomous Region 81–2; Turkmenistan 89, 112; Uzbekistan 112; Xingjian Uighur Autonomous Region 81–2 Shaposhnikov, Yevgeny 56–7 Shevardnadze, Eduard 54 soldiers internationalists 40, 44, 118 Solikh, Mukhammad 79 Soviet Army 10, 30–2, 119–20; legacy of 55, 71, 76–7, 137–8; Muslim Battalion 22–3; Soviet-Afghan war 35, 37–40, 51 Soviet Chief of Staff 6 Soviet medals: Labor ‘Krasnoe znamya’ 14; Krasnaya zvezda 20, 27; Revolutionary ‘Krasnoe znamya’ 14 Soviet military assets 60–1 Stalin, Josef: legacies 56; policies 13–14, 24, 30; purges 8, 13, 27; suppression of kulak upheavals 13; war against Nazi Germany 5, 10, 30–2 Sultanov, Mukum 27 Suvorov, Alexander 117 Tajik civil war 2, 14, 39, 45; military reform 72–4, 88, 136; Popular Front 1,

159

72, 74; Russia’s role 57, 59; state ideology 127–8; Uzbek military 107 Tajik–Afghan frontier 88 Tajikistan: armed forces 72–5; parliament 63 Taraki, Muhammad 34 Tashkent National School 23 Tatars 15, 27, 40, 123 Tatarstan 40 Toktogul reservoir 4 Topoyev, Esen 45 Tsarist regime 8–9, 11–12, 19, 21, 41; army 11, 16–17, 32, 119 Tukharinov, Yuri 34 Turkey 15, 59, 107 Turkistan 8, 14, 18; army 8, 15, 21, 23; ASSR 23–4; conscripts from 9, 15, 18, 25, 27; in state ideologies 127–8; Lenin 12 Turkmenistan 3–5; and CIS, see CIS; and CSTO, see CSTO; and NATO, see NATO; and SCO, see SCO; during Soviet-Afghan war 34–5; military doctrine 75–7; military reform 61–2, 75–7, 80, 135–6; nationalization of military 56, 62; regime transition 89, 134; state ideologies 116–17, 130–1; under Soviet regime 31 Uyghurs 17 Ukraine 3, 10, 27–8, 111; CIS 57–8; conscripts from 38; Soviet Union 55–6 United Nations 3; and CSTO 89; CentrAsBat 105; peacekeeping policies 50, 75, 99; SCO 100; Tajikistan 105–6; troops of 104 United States: Afghanistan 50; and CSTO 68, 87; Cold War 34, 49; Kazakhstan 108, 110; Kyrgyzstan 71, 104, 106, 110–11; military in Central Asia 59; perceptions of 100, 102; Russia 105; SCO 84; Turkmenistan 106, 112 United Tajik Opposition 1, 64, 72–5, 105 Uzbek SSR 14, 23 Uzbekistan: armed forces 77–80; Joint Headquarters of the Armed Forces 3; military districts 78; military doctrine 77–80; military educational complex 78; military medals 130; National Security Council 50, 79; state ideologies 128–30; Uzbek-NATO drills 78 venerating historic figures 116–18 Victory Day 32, 51

160

Index

Warsaw Pact 54, 91, 108 White Russians 20 World Veterans Federation 44 World War I 8, 12, 22, 119 World War II 8, 10–11, 14, 29–32; memories of 36–8, 43, 128, 137; veterans 43–4, 47–8, 51, 64

Yanayev, Gennady 55 Yazov, Dmitry 55 Yeltsin, Boris 54–5, 59 Yuldashev, Tohrir 1, 39, 79 Zhanasayev, Bolot 46 Ziyeev, Mirzo 74 Zuganov, Gennady 59

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