By Svante E. Cornell

March 9, 2022

https://thehill.com/opinion/national-security/597503-no-the-war-in-ukraine-is-not-about-nato

Russia's invasion of Ukraine has led to widespread condemnation and an unparalleled outpouring of support for Ukraine. At the same time, a motley crew, including some academics and former U.S. officials, has essentially blamed the war on the West, and in particular NATO enlargement. The argument is basically that Russia would not have become so aggressive if Western powers had been more accommodating. This line of thinking, however, is simply incorrect.

That’s because Russia rediscovered its imperial vocation before NATO enlargement, and the war in Ukraine is, in fact, about Putin’s great power ambitions.

Russian leaders have emphatically argued that NATO countries, led by the United States, violated assurances made to Moscow at the end of the Cold War that the alliance would not expand to the east. This claim, however, has been debunked as a myth. Even the last Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, has denied that the issue of NATO enlargement was even discussed at the time. Russian President Vladimir Putin himself did not have much to say about NATO enlargement until his infamous speech at the 2007 Munich Security Conference.

NATO's enlargement began in the mid-1990s, at a time when the alliance was embarking on a strategic shift, focusing on out-of-area operations instead territorial defense. NATO urged new member states to focus on specific cutting-edge expertise, and programs for partner countries like Georgia were mostly about training for peacekeeping operations in places like Afghanistan. NATO's shift is perhaps best illustrated by the fact that the alliance lacked a workable plan to defend the Baltic states when Russia invaded Georgia in 2008. It is really only after that war, and in particular after Moscow's annexation of Crimea in 2014, that NATO returned to its original focus on collective defense.

The real reason for the deteriorating security situation in Europe — and most blatantly the Russian invasion of Ukraine — can be found in changes that have taken place within Russia itself, and most directly the increasingly imperialist worldview of the Russian leadership.

This change began as early as 1994 and accelerated after Putin came to power. The war in the Russian breakaway republic of Chechnya from 1994 to 1996 was in many ways the starting point. Russia’s defeat there showed how far the country had fallen, leading many former Soviet republics to part ways with Russia. Moscow responded by systematically undermining neighboring states like Moldova, Georgia and Azerbaijan through the incitement of ethnic conflicts on their territories — a classic divide-and-rule tactic.

It is largely forgotten today that Putin built his political career on regaining control of Chechnya, something he did by starting a bloody war on the basis of a lie. It is generally well established today that the explosions in apartment buildings in Moscow in the summer of 1999 that Putin blamed on Chechen rebels were in fact carried out by the Russian security service under Putin's own leadership — the purpose being to create popular support for Putin's war, and by extension his leadership.

Putin's view of the world, in turn, is closely linked to his own hold on power — and that explains Russia's increasingly aggressive actions. 

The “color revolutions” in Georgia and Ukraine in 2003-4 had the potential to show that democratic change could happen in former Soviet countries, something that would undermine Putin’s pursuit of authoritarian rule (what he called a "vertical of power"). Democratic rule in neighboring countries therefore had to fail.

Ukraine, in particular, was central to Putin. If a kindred Slavic and Orthodox country like Ukraine developed into a functioning democracy, this could pull the rug out from under Putin's project. If Ukraine showed that something better was possible, why should Russians be content with living under an authoritarian and corrupt regime?

For a time, Moscow tried other tactics. Pro-Russian politician Viktor Yanukovych managed to get elected as president of Ukraine in 2010, but his misrule led to the popular uprising of 2013. That event, in turn, showed that the Ukrainian people saw Europe, rather than Russia, as their future. Putin responded by annexing Crimea and starting a war in eastern Ukraine. At home, Putin's rhetoric became increasingly nationalistic, and now focused on concepts such as the "Russian world" in order to foment a divide between Russia and an allegedly decadent West.

For this to succeed, however, Putin needs to bring Belarus and Ukraine into the "Russian world," by force if necessary. This, rather than NATO enlargement, is what the war in Ukraine is about.

Svante Cornell is director of the American Foreign Policy Council’s Central Asia-Caucasus Institute.

By Johan Engvall

Central Asia-Caucasus Institute & Silk Road Studies Program
Silk Road Paper
January 2022

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Executive Summary

In 2010, Kyrgyzstan took a decisive step towards establishing a parliamentary form of government. A decade later, the parliamentary experiment had, at least for the time being, come to an end; in January 2021, the Kyrgyz electorate approved the return to a presidential form of government, and in May 2021, a new presidentialist constitution was adopted. To understand, the role and powers of Kyrgyzstan’s parliament, unparalleled in the Central Asian region as well as in most other post-Soviet countries, this study details the evolution of this particular political institution over the past 30 years. It details continuities and changes, the interplay between formal rules and actual parliamentary practices, and analyses how the constitution of this political body has shaped its performance over the years. The conclusions reached in the study should help to inform the understanding of why Kyrgyzstan’s national legislature proved unable to deliver on the promises of a parliamentary-style system of government.

Independence in 1991 meant that Kyrgyzstan’s Soviet-elected 350-member strong Supreme Soviet overnight became the national parliament of a sovereign state. It became clear that the legislature did not take this newfound status lightly. It quickly emerged as a focal point of debates over the future course of the new state, often positioning itself in opposition to the country’s first President Askar Akaev. Its willingness to provide some checks and balances on executive authority as well as its adoption of several landmark laws, would lead the parliament to go down in Kyrgyzstan’s history as the “legendary” parliament. However, it was also a peculiar institution, created for the altogether different Soviet system. It met only in sessions, and the lack of continuous legislative work was hardly compatible to the systemic transformation that Kyrgyzstan had set out to accomplish. Many of its members simultaneously held positions in various executive bodies. Because of that, the separation of powers was unclear and the fact that a large portion of the members of parliament (MPs) was dependent on other state jobs for their livelihoods, enabled President Akaev to disband its services a year before its term had expired.

In 1995, Kyrgyzstan held its first competitive elections to fill a thoroughly revamped parliament that now had adopted its Kyrgyz name, Jogorku Kenesh (Supreme Council). It was a much smaller legislature, consisting of two chambers with a total number of 105 MPs elected in single mandate districts. This formative election turned out to be highly competitive and resulted in a legislature dominated by public officials and an emerging group of businessmen, who had benefited from the early privatization process. In this new competitive environment, many members of the “legendary” parliament failed to be re-elected. While the new parliament had to find its feet amidst organizational shortcomings and Soviet inertia, it nevertheless managed to promulgate an impressive number of new laws, although many pieces of legislation were hastily adopted and poorly implemented. Overall, the parliament retained a rather independent position and did not turn out to be as obedient to the executive as President Akaev had hoped for it to be.

The successor parliament with curtailed formal powers, following constitutional referendums in 1996 and 1998, respectively, was elected in 2000; again, the elections were competitive, but circumscribed by several fraudulent practices and an aggressive use of administrative resources in order to secure the outcome preferred by the authorities. A limited party quota had been introduced for some of the seats, but overall businessmen and bureaucrats from the central and regional levels continued to define the parliament’s composition. The parliament appeared pliant to begin with, but several controversial decisions taken by President Akaev forced an increasingly radical parliamentary opposition to emerge. Conventional parliamentary opposition did not characterize their oppositional activities as much as the practice of organizing mass protests. 

Ahead of the 2005 parliamentary elections, constitutional changes pushed through a referendum ended Kyrgyzstan’s decade with a bicameral parliament. A new unicameral legislature, with a significantly reduced number of seats for grabs exclusively in single mandate districts, raised the stakes further for electoral competition. At a time when President Akaev’s popularity had long been in decline, the authorities nevertheless applied their best efforts to secure the desired electoral outcome. Losing candidates challenged the election results by organizing protests throughout the country, eventually building up to nationwide opposition movement against the incumbent leadership. When the protests reached the capital Bishkek, President Akaev fled the country. Following this first color revolution in Central Asia, new president Kurmanbek Bakiev confronted a couple of years of strong parliamentary opposition, which thwarted his attempts to establish authoritarian rule in the country. Eventually, in 2007, after two years of recurring mass protests on the streets of Bishkek led by the parliamentary opposition, Bakiev managed to co-opt the sufficient amount of MPs necessary to push through a new presidentialist constitution. He then dissolved the parliament and announced a snap election to bring the legislature in line with the new constitution.

The snap parliamentary vote brought about a legislature that was entirely new in its form. It was exclusively elected on the basis of proportional representation from nationwide party lists. Bakiev and his entourage ensured their control of the new legislature by quickly and effectively organizing a pro-presidential party, Ak Jol, which duly emerged victorious with 71 of 90 available seats. With this parliament in their pocket, the president and his family members fully displayed their repressiveness. However, when growing frustrations among the elites and people canalized into sudden protests, the Bakiev regime quickly collapsed, despite its efforts to suppress the revolt. The new interim leadership quickly dissolved the parliament and cancelled the constitution.

Ahead of the election of a new parliament, the interim government introduced a new constitution, which stood out in the post-Soviet context; for the first time since Moldova in 2000, a post-Soviet country declared its ambition to establish a parliamentary-style system of government. The electoral system retained the proportional system based on national party lists introduced by Bakiev, but to prevent the emergence of a dominant party, the maximum number of seats a party could hold was fixed at 65 out of 120 seats. The assumption being that this would prevent Kyrgyzstan from slipping back towards authoritarianism. From a competitive point of view, the election was a success: it brought five evenly matched parties into the parliament, demonstrating the realness of political competition. For the first years, the parliament well and truly emerged as the focal point of political decision-making and debate in the country. Nonetheless, the parties were typically only formal shells with little real party content, and therefore most of them disintegrated from within. The coalition governments formed around parliamentary majorities fell apart in quick succession, leaving the role of the prime minister in this divided executive system increasingly subordinated to the president. In this environment, President Almazbek Atambaev did not have to resort to particularly repressive means in order to re-establish the presidency as the focal point of the political system.

This tendency strengthened further after the election of a new legislature according to the same basic rules in 2015. It has served during the tenure of three different presidents, with the main distinguishing feature being its unconditional support for the various heads of states’ taking the country in an ever more authoritarian direction. Thus, the last parliament represents a litany of failures: it has failed to serve as a safeguard against presidential authoritarianism, it has failed to contribute any significant reform legislation and it has failed to strengthen the development of political parties.

Over the course of the past three decades, Jogorku Kenesh’s development has been a process of trial-and-error; progressive elements interact with regressive elements in defining the entire spectrum of parliamentary practices – from campaigning to composition and performance. The search for the parliament’s rightful place in Kyrgyzstan’s political system has been at the heart of much political debate and numerous constitutional and electoral changes. The recurrent changes in the formal rules of the game have forced political elites to adapt their behavioral strategies to a fluctuating environment. Despite the introduction of special quotas and the efforts to foster the rise of political party representatives based on ideological interests, the typical MP consists of a 50-year-old Kyrgyz man with a strong provincial attachment and a primary background in various business activities for whom party affiliation is an exchangeable political commodity.

This leads us to the peculiar role of political parties in Kyrgyzstan’s political system. The party market in Kyrgyzstan is richly supplied, and a defining feature has been the inability of presidents to create viable ruling parties, unlike in other Eurasian countries. However, Kyrgyzstan’s party system is extremely fragmented and weakly institutionalized; parties primarily, serve as temporary vehicles for particular political interests, not as channels for political representation. Their ideological platforms are underdeveloped with little in terms of concrete policy programs. Instead, they increasingly tend to position themselves by emphasizing lofty values related to cultural and nationalistic specifics of the Kyrgyz nation. In practice, the party system placed at the center of the parliamentary-style system boiled down to little more than a political label required in order to compete in election, but had little meaning otherwise.

The parliament in general and political parties in particular have been subjugated to a powerful market logic. Financial muscles have been key to securing access to parliament. Under proportional representation based on party lists, parties put a price on their slots, turning parliamentary mandates into subjects of an internal market. As candidates entered the parliament against the backdrop of large financial contributions, reportedly often amounting to several hundreds of thousands of dollars, they have had strong incentives to return their investments. Consequently, the parliament has emerged as a marketplace for transacting corrupt deals.

Overall, Kyrgyzstan’s parliament has played a dynamic role in the country’s political development. In some periods, it has been at the heart of the political struggle and provided some checks and balances, if erratic, on presidential authority. In other periods, it has served as a more pliant rubberstamp body. Over time, the technical, procedural and organizational framework for parliamentary work has steadily improved. At the same time, the corps of parliamentarians have become ever more primitive in its composition. While the “legendary” parliament represented the political, economic and intellectual elite of Kyrgyzstan, the last parliamentary convocations, defined by financial resources, have dissolved any remaining boundaries for the qualities needed for being entrusted with a parliamentary mandate. As a result, a group of “entrepreneurs,” including oligarchs, racketeers, bazaar owners, construction magnates and civil servants with concealed business interests, has established a strong grip over parliament, to the detriment of the supply of nationwide legislation and the establishment of mechanisms of accountability to the electorate.

Finally, in a comparative perspective, Kyrgyzstan’s disappointing “parliamentary decade” from 2010 to 2020, mirrors the governance crises that have beset the other post-Soviet states attempting to establish a parliamentary system of government – Armenia, Georgia and Moldova. These challenging experiences underlines the complexity of democratization in states suffering from immature state institutions and low levels of economic development. It also reveals that, in such contexts, increased political competition is by no means likely to lead to improved governance, in terms of delivering state services and the adoption of sustainable economic development. This suggests the somewhat disheartening conclusion that the state must first get its core functions in place, such as the provision of elementary law and order and basic economic and social security, before a truly viable form of government characterized by meaningful political competition is likely to take hold. In short, a separation should be made between the normative aspects of democratization, i.e. the inherent virtues of pluralism, freedom and competitiveness, and the empirical relationship between on the one hand democratization and the quality of government, corruption and economic development, on the other.   

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Svante E. Cornell

The recent crisis in Kazakhstan took many by surprise. Long considered the most prosperous and stable in Central Asia, it now suddenly appears fragile and weak. To draw lessons from the crisis, for the country’s future course and for the long-suffering American policy in Central Asia, we need to understand what really happened in Kazakhstan. While the exact circumstances of the tragic events in the country may never be clear, we now know enough to draw some key conclusions. First, the key reason for this crisis is to be found in Kazakhstan’s incomplete succession of power. Second, while Russia will definitely exact a price for its intervention, Kazakhstan’s independence has not come to an end. Third, Kazakhstan will likely recover from this crisis, but it will need American and European support to proceed with much-needed reforms.

What Happened?

To someone who has studied Central Asian politics for over two decades, the speed and confidence with which many analysts claimed to understand exactly what had happened was somewhat distressing. In reality, the behind-the-scenes power balances in Kazakhstan are some of the most opaque in the region.

Still, it is now clear that two separate processes took place in Kazakhstan. The first was fairly straightforward: a sharp price hike for automobile fuel led to public protests in western Kazakhstan, which rapidly spread to the country’s largest city, Almaty. Given the frequency of public protests in Kazakhstan lately, this was unsurprising. But the second was more puzzling: on the evening of January 4, bands of armed thugs suddenly took over the Almaty protests, and engaged in violent attacks on authorities and government buildings. Eyewitnesses on the ground report that security forces appeared to melt away in the face of these thugs, with widespread destruction and looting as a result.

Sensing that the situation was spiraling out of control, and perhaps unable to trust his own security forces, President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev on January 5 appealed to the Russia-led Collective Security Treaty Organization for s “temporary” intervention. Within hours, a “peacekeeping” operation was dispatched to Kazakhstan. Appealing for outside help is a major loss of face for any government, and to legitimize this step beyond assuring it would be of short duration, Kazakh government officials blamed a nebulous international terrorist conspiracy for masterminding the violence. This has rightfully been met with skepticism. Meanwhile, western rights advocates have emphasized the government’s repression of peaceful protests. This is not a particularly helpful definition of the events either: it hardly explains the violence against authorities in Almaty, and why the government seemed so close to losing control over the situation. In fact, the real background is to be found in Kazakhstan’s informal politics.

Nazarbayev’s Political Economy

Like most post-Soviet states, Kazakhstan’s informal politics are based on a close fusion of political and economic power. This was the result of the Soviet Union’s collapse, which left the politically connected with tremendous advantages in securing economic assets and taking the reins of a budding capitalist economy. Meanwhile, the absence of strong political institutions meant that political leaders required an economic base, in effect to control institutions that provided patronage and ensured the loyalty of their followers.

As a result, the power of post-Soviet politicians has been more a function of their control over patronage than the position printed on their business card. To survive in power, therefore, the leader of a country needed to have a larger patronage structure than anyone else. Because blood is thicker than water, family members of high officials were key to managing these assets. Sadly, however, some suddenly enriched family members did not handle their newfound wealth with grace. Managing wayward children and relatives became a constant headache for post-Soviet leaders. And beyond the family are other, largely invisible grandees who remains largely out of the public view but wield real influence.

Thus it was in Kazakhstan as well, where the children and relatives of President Nazarbayev ended up in the news for all the wrong reasons. Still, Kazakhstan’s hydrocarbon-fueled economy until recently produced enough wealth for the wider population to see improved living standards, while Nazarbayev’s diplomatic astuteness in balancing Russia, China and the West led him to become a respected international figure.

But in recent years, financial shocks hit the country hard, and Kazakhstan’s budding middle class saw its newfound standard of living jeopardized: GDP per capita dropped from over $13,000 in 2013 to about $9,000 today. As a result, the population grew restive, and frustration with the opulence of the uber-rich and politically connected mounted. Furthermore, a divide opened between an upwardly mobile and well-educated urban strata (the Kazakhs most Westerners interact with) and a much larger lumpen segment, for lack of a better term, which is much more impatient and nationalist. Against this background, the post-Soviet model of governance described above was no longer sustainable.

In response, the aging Nazarbayev resolved to engineer a controlled transition of power. He first gave parliament a greater role, then unexpectedly resigned in 2019. He designated the respected diplomat Kassym-Jomart Tokayev his successor but retained significant powers as the country’s “First President.” This move was designed to safeguard the family’s interests, while allowing a new leader to implement much-needed political and economic reforms.

Knowns and Unknowns in an Incomplete Succession

While Nazarbayev had outlined lofty visions for Kazakhstan as one of the world’s most developed states by mid-century, international indices showed clearly that the country was progressing slowly in terms of rule of law and control over corruption, and barely at all in terms of public voice and accountability. Tokayev therefore embarked on a single-minded pursuit of political as well as economic reforms. But in so doing, he challenged the position of entrenched interest groups that controlled much of Kazakhstan’s economic life, and wielded considerable informal power in key state institutions.

Many of these were members of the Nazarbayev family, and networks associated with them, including the invisible grandees mentioned above. Some among these forces sought to actively slow-walk Tokayev’s reforms: on more than one occasion, the President’s initiatives were watered down in parliament, while others appeared to face hurdles in implementation. This led the President himself to repeatedly decry the pace at which his reforms were proceeding.  In retrospect, the key flaw in Nazarbayev’s transition plan seems to have been engineering a transition of formal political power, but not a parallel transition in control of economic assets.

Exactly how the tensions between the President and his opponents boiled over is not clear. But it is beyond doubt that they exploded during the New Year’s unrest. In a country like Kazakhstan, it is unthinkable that organized groups of armed thugs could mount a direct challenge to the state without being noticed and checked by security services. But as anyone familiar with post-Soviet ties between politics, business and crime can tell, it is more than likely that these thugs were used by some powerful political force that masterminded this action. Some suggest President Tokayev moved first, using the public protests as an opportunity to clean house. More likely, his opponents sought to use the unrest to weaken or even unseat him, forcing a counterpunch.

President Tokayev’s response to the crisis is telling: he removed Nazarbayev from his lifetime post as Chairman of the National Security Council, removed and detained leaders of the national security service, and in the aftermath of the crisis forced the removal of key Nazarbayev family members from senior positions in government agencies and state corporations. Tokayev’s January 11 address to parliament did not mention his predecessor by name, but he was clear enough: he announced the closure of monopolistic companies everyone knew were connected to the Nazarbayev family, and called on the many people who had gotten rich “thanks to his predecessor” to give back to the country in a new public fund he is creating. We should expect important assets to change hands in coming weeks.

Still, it would be premature to call this a direct, personal conflict between the only two Presidents that Kazakhstan has known since independence. One important unknown is the degree to which the 81-year-old Nazarbayev was in control over the vast conglomerate that his family had become. The Nazarbayev family was far from a united entity, and different wings of the family were known to have fought over economic assets in the past. Thus, Nazarbayev and his family are not one and the same; parts of his family may be involved in a conflict with President Tokayev, but that does not mean the entire family or Nazarbayev himself is.

President Tokayev has been careful, until now, not to directly challenge the position or legacy of Nazarbayev as the Elbasy, the nominal “leader of the nation.” Doing so would perhaps crumble too much of the edifice his own power rests upon, and Tokayev appears to genuinely appreciate Nazarbayev’s service to the nation. Still, a decisive shift has taken place in Kazakhstan. The most likely scenario is that Nazarbayev will continue to be respected as the country’s elder statesman, while his extended family will gradually lose their positions of influence as well as many of their assets.

The Russia Factor

The CSTO intervention in Kazakhstan is a major coup for President Putin, who has touted the CSTO as a Eurasian counterpart to NATO, and sought to portray it as an organization that could help regional leaders withstand both domestic and outside threats to their power. But in the past few years, neither Moscow nor the CSTO were able to rescue leaders in Armenia or Kyrgyzstan that were targeted by public protests. The lightning-speed deployment will now be an example to leaders who may previously have been skeptical about Russia’s commitment to their security.

Beyond that, there has been a tendency to view the CSTO intervention in the light of Russia’s threat against Ukraine. But the situations are not comparable. There is no question that the Russian intervention will have consequences for Kazakhstan’s foreign policy and for regional security, but it does not spell the end of Kazakhstan’s independence. 

President Tokayev has reported that the CSTO operation is winding down and that the foreign forces are in the process of leaving the country. From Kazakhstan’s perspective, they have accomplished their chief objective: they have ended, for now, the acute phase of elite in-fighting in Kazakhstan, and shown with all due clarity that Moscow supports President Tokayev against his detractors.

Given the past experience of Russian operations in the former Soviet Union, one could be forgiven for being skeptical that once invited, Russian forces would leave Kazakhstan. But there are at least three reasons to think that might actually happen. First, China has made it clear it wants to see no foreign forces in Kazakhstan, and Moscow is very sensitive to Beijing’s wishes. Second, Moscow has found itself in the unprecedented predicament of taking the side of a President that is identified with a reformist agenda. And if Tokayev wants to consolidate his power, he can do so only if he appears in charge and his reforms are implemented. If Tokayev is perceived as a Russian stooge, he could rapidly lose his standing in Kazakh society, resulting in further unrest and instability, something that is not in Russia’s interest. Finally, it should be recalled that Tokayev is the architect of Kazakhstan’s balanced “multi-vector” foreign policy, which seeks to build strong relations with all world powers, not just Russia.

It may thus be in both Tokayev’s and Putin’s interest for Russian forces to pull back, with Tokayev owing Putin a debt of gratitude. The alternative – installing a Putinist regime in Kazakhstan that quells public disenchantment with force – is simply not feasible, and not something Tokayev could or would do. The widespread public frustration and anger remains, and will not go away. Tokayev will be forced to tread carefully to avoid new upheavals.

American and European Policies

Three major events in the past year or so have shown the decline in American, as well as European, influence in Central Asia and the Caucasus. The U.S. was essentially a bystander during the war between Armenia and Azerbaijan in late 2020. The chaotic American withdrawal from Afghanistan epitomized the American disengagement, and the U.S. did not feature in any notable way during the crisis in Kazakhstan. This slide is unfortunate, not least given the fact that every other power from Turkey in the west to Japan in the east appears to be intensifying its relations with this emerging world region. U.S. inaction in the region makes it that much harder for regional states to have a balanced foreign policy. Particularly following the withdrawal from Afghanistan, it is now high time for the U.S. to revamp its approach to Central Asia, starting with a reappraisal of relations with Kazakhstan.

If the U.S. is concerned about Russian influence, the solution is not to distance itself from Kazakhstan but rather to redouble engagement with the country and President Tokayev. Tokayev continues to represent the best hope for a serious reform process that will make Kazakhstan both more stable and more responsive to the needs and views of its citizens. Simply because of the nature of Russia’s own political system, there is little Russia can or would do to support the reform process that Tokayev has launched. In fact, the only outside actors that could play a constructive role are the U.S. and Europe. Tokayev knows this and will want to re-engage with Western powers. But given his new predicament, this will be much easier if the initiative comes from Washington.

Kazakhstan must also be seen in its regional context. In the last few years, Central Asian states have engaged in an unprecedented effort to develop regional cooperation, to ensure they can manage regional problems on their own. The CSTO intervention is in this context a setback, because it gives the illusion that only outside powers can provide security in the region. It is therefore in the American interest to support efforts at regional cooperation that will, in the longer run, enable Central Asians to withstand both Russian and Chinese aspirations for hegemony.

Washington has an instrument for dialogue that is regional in nature. A first step should be to convene a meeting of the C5+1 mechanism including America and the five regional states to signal that America continues to care about developments in the region, and is ready to step up efforts to support reform initiatives and regionalism in Central Asia. Building on that, the Administration could deploy an inter-agency process to fine-tune the Central Asia strategy that was adopted two years ago. While much remains to be done, these steps would kickstart a reboot of American policy toward Central Asia.

Svante E. Cornell is Director of the American Foreign Policy Council’s Central Asia-Caucasus Institute, and a co-founder of the Institute for Security and Development Policy in Stockholm.