• KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
  • KZT/USD = 0.00215
  • TJS/USD = 0.10810
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29850
28 August 2026

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From Lenin to Kenesary: What Kazakhstan’s Renamed Streets Say About Power

In July 2026, a new constitutional law on Kazakhstan’s administrative-territorial structure came into force. It retained a layered process for changing place names: local authorities must consider residents’ views, while onomastic commissions review proposals before final decisions are made. The previous legal framework dated to 1993. Replacing it with a constitutional law did not dismantle the machinery of onomastic policy but consolidated the roles of public consultation, local government and official commissions. The law formalized a system built over three decades, during which thousands of streets were renamed but the country’s urban map changed at markedly different speeds. Kazakhstan’s experience is often described as a simple substitution of Lenin with Abai and communist terminology with the symbols of independence. The geography of renaming suggests something more precise: a centralized nation-building project whose reach depends on local demography and the political cost of opposition. Research documenting 6,832 cases across 37 cities between 1991 and 2019 shows the disparity. Five cities accounted for 72% of all recorded renamings: Shymkent had 1,767, Almaty 1,064, Astana 860, Aktobe 783, and Kyzylorda 470. Pavlodar recorded 34, Petropavl 28, Oskemen 23, and Rudny only two. Raw totals partly reflect city size and urban expansion, but the study’s statistical analysis identified both city status and ethnic composition as significant factors. Renaming occurred less frequently where the share of Slavic residents was higher, a pattern the author interpreted as evidence of greater state caution in ethnically mixed cities. The procedure helps explain why a national symbolic agenda produced such local variation. Proposals move through public consultation, local representative and executive bodies, and onomastic commissions. These stages do not guarantee that public preferences will determine the outcome, but they create points at which opposition can slow or redirect a proposal. Astana, extensively rebuilt after becoming the capital in 1997, could remake its urban identity quickly. Established industrial cities in the north and east moved more carefully. The contrast between what disappeared and what survived is equally revealing. Explicitly ideological names associated with Lenin, Marx, Engels, and the October Revolution became far less common, while Almaty retained streets named after Soviet scientists, writers, and figures connected to Kazakhstan’s development. The authorities did not treat every Soviet reference alike. They separated communist ideology from cultural and intellectual contribution, producing selective de-Sovietization rather than wholesale symbolic purification. Municipal practice further complicates a purely nationalist reading. Official data from Kyzylorda for 2025 lists 874 city streets: 497 named after individuals, 270 after localities and water features, and 107 carrying conventional names. This snapshot does not identify which streets were renamed, but it shows that the present naming system encompasses historical figures, local geography, and ordinary municipal conventions. In the expanding Arai-Shugyla neighborhood, seven previously unnamed streets received names drawn from localities and water features. Onomastic policy was therefore organizing new urban space as well as redistributing historical visibility. Naming new streets and replacing old ones use the same administrative machinery, although their political consequences are not always comparable. The politics became clearer when...

Opinion: Why Central Asia Cannot Afford to Abandon the Iranian Route

Kazakhstan had barely secured a foothold in Iran’s largest commercial port when renewed military escalation made the southern route risky again. The problem for Central Asia is that Iran is more than a trading partner. For a region without direct access to the open sea, it provides one of the few overland routes to the Persian Gulf and the Indian Ocean. On June 28, Kazakhstan and Iran signed a 27-year build-operate-transfer (BOT) agreement for a Kazakh transport and logistics terminal at Shahid Rajaee Port in Bandar Abbas. The agreement allocates two years for construction and the following 25 for operation. Astana expects the terminal to provide more direct access to markets in the Gulf, South and Southeast Asia, and East Africa. The project almost immediately found itself in a different reality. In July, U.S. strikes hit Iranian railway and coastal infrastructure. The Aq Taqeh Khan bridge on a rail route connecting Iran with Turkmenistan and, further north, with Kazakhstan, was damaged. There was no confirmed halt to Central Asian freight traffic, but military risk was no longer an abstract concern for carriers. That risk has now been compounded by a new U.S. sanctions campaign. On August 24, U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent launched what Washington calls Operation Economic Outcast, combining direct sanctions with pressure on Iran’s foreign economic partners. The United States said it would set timelines for other countries to shut down economic activity with Iran, while the scope of secondary sanctions was expanded to cover five areas: digital assets, technology, gold, aviation, and shipping. Nearly 60 Iran-linked individuals, entities, and vessels were also sanctioned. The United States has not publicly identified which countries could face penalties first. War and sanctions can make the Iranian route more expensive, slower, and more dangerous. They cannot change geography. Iran gives Central Asia overland access to ports on the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman. From Bandar Abbas and Chabahar, cargo can move onward toward India, the Gulf states, and East Africa. Iran also provides a western overland route toward Turkey. This is one of the fundamental differences between the Iranian route and the Middle Corridor, which crosses the Caspian Sea before continuing through Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Turkey. The Middle Corridor requires cargo to move between rail and maritime transport. Iran offers the possibility of a continuous overland chain while also providing access to ports connected to the Indian Ocean. For Kazakhstan, the southern route is already more than a plan. Trade with Iran increased by 26.4% in 2025 to $430.2 million. Freight traffic along the International North-South Transport Corridor reached 3.5 million tons, while rail traffic between Kazakhstan and Iran increased by 69%. It is this expanding transport network that is now exposed to greater military and sanctions risks. There is another factor. A free trade agreement between Iran and the Eurasian Economic Union, which includes Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan, entered into force on May 15, 2025. It significantly reduced tariff barriers to trade in goods between the two sides. Uzbekistan offers...

Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan Show What Diplomacy Can Deliver as Vast Rail Project with China Advances

Kyrgyz President Sadyr Japarov and Uzbek President Shavkat Mirziyoyev met on July 30 on the shores of Kyrgyzstan’s Lake Issyk-Kul, in Cholpon Ata, to sign the Treaty on Allied Relations. It was much more than business as usual. In their press conference, the leaders largely set aside the diplomatic boilerplate and expressions of mutual approbation that usually attend such summits. Instead, the meeting focused on putting a decisive end to mutual Kyrgyz-Uzbek grievances and rivalry, opting for dialogue over confrontation, stability over tension, and partnership over the quest for primacy in their bilateral relationship. Without ceding any of their sovereignty, they stressed that teamwork and shared responsibility—not the pursuit of great-power patronage or one-upmanship—are the surest way to advance common interests. Japarov, like Mirziyoyev, made clear that strategic-level collaboration always trumps short-term transactional gains. One of the biggest takeaways from the Japarov–Mirziyoyev summit was the confident demeanor and optimism with which they spoke about the future of Kyrgyz-Uzbek relations. Veering from his scripted notes and speaking in Russian to the press, Mirziyoyev said: “What an atmosphere we have today [here in Kyrgyzstan]. Look at what we're doing today— we're making history. This alliance — all of this will remain in history forever and ever.” Friendship, mutual respect, and hard work will produce “dynamic development” and “steady economic growth,” leading to “the well-being of peoples.” Business Development and Ahead of Schedule Once dismissed as an engineer's pipedream or a financier's nightmare, Japarov and Mirziyoyev said they’re staying the course on building strategic connectivity, energy, and water infrastructure, singling out the China–Kyrgyzstan–Uzbekistan railway and the Kambarata-1 Hydropower Plant (HPP), projects that some considered unrealistic. The leaders made it plain that this railway will deliver huge benefits. As Mirziyoyev put it: "We will work together non-stop to develop trade and logistics infrastructure along this railway route." Beyond offering transit times faster than the northern routes, the China–Kyrgyzstan–Uzbekistan railway will boost tourism and bring Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan hundreds of millions of dollars in transit revenue. Most importantly, it will unlock untapped economic resources, fueling new jobs, businesses, and logistics hubs along the corridor. After the Japarov-Mirziyoyev meetings, The Times of Central Asia spoke with Akramjon Nematov, First Deputy Director of Uzbekistan's Institute for Strategic and Regional Studies. Having been on site, he noted that the numbers and progress on the ground speak louder than any words or communiqués: "Construction is active at 83 of 107 planned sites on the Kyrgyz line, with over 10,000 workers and 7,000 units of heavy machinery deployed. Crews are drilling 26 tunnels through the Tian Shan, with over 13.5 kilometers of the main tunnel already cut, while 38 of 50 bridges are underway. The pace is staggering. I've watched this railway move Kyrgyz-Uzbek relations from friction to cooperation – and I measure progress not in words, but in cubic meters of earth moved." China has committed to supplying most of the capital and engineering capacity.  The project carries a total capitalization of roughly $4.7 billion, structured as a $2.3...

Opinion: A Century Apart, Two Official Visions of Uzbek Womanhood

A century ago, in 1926, the Russian-language Uzbek newspaper Pravda Vostoka published an appeal to the “working women of the Soviet East” written by Clara Zetkin – a Marxist and a women’s rights advocate from Germany. In its appeal for women’s unveiling, it asked where the mullahs had been while women suffered through the “dark past” and promised that Soviet law now shone “bright rays” over a liberated and free Soviet present. It closed not with a tribute to women, but with a slogan: “Forward to socialism! Always ready to fight for world revolution!” There was a significant problem with this text. Literacy among Uzbek women was extremely low, particularly in rural areas, and those who could read generally read Uzbek rather than Russian. Historian Marianne Kamp documents this gap in her book The New Woman in Uzbekistan. The article calling women to political consciousness was, therefore, not directly accessible to the overwhelming majority of its stated audience. That gap is not just a flaw in the propaganda or evidence of its exaggerated reach. Rather, it explains how the propaganda worked. A Russian newspaper speaking to Uzbek women who largely could not read it depended on party cadres, activists, public readings, meetings, and other literate intermediaries who could disseminate the message in Uzbek. It did not address an existing constituency so much as construct one – handing local organisers a model of the politically awakened Soviet woman they were expected to promote in villages where practically no woman could have read the article herself. [caption id="attachment_54189" align="aligncenter" width="1774"] Uzbek women in the old city of Tashkent before going out into the street on International Women’s Day, March 8, 1924. Photo: Public domain.[/caption] The “working women of the Soviet East” were therefore both an audience and an emerging political category. That category served a larger claim the Soviet state was making about Central Asia: that the region was “backward” and required revolutionary socialist transformation. In Soviet rhetoric, as in some earlier Russian imperial writing, the condition of women became one of the principal measures by which a society’s level of development was judged. A society’s position on the imagined path from feudalism to modernity could be read from whether its women were veiled or unveiled, secluded or employed, illiterate or educated. Transforming women’s appearance and public role offered the state an especially visible means of demonstrating that Central Asia was leaving its supposedly backward past behind. This does not mean that Soviet female emancipation was merely an empty disguise for imperial domination. Many contemporary works by historians such as Adrienne Edgar, Marianne Kamp, and Shoshana Keller showcase the genuine changes produced by Soviet literacy campaigns, education, employment, family law, and women’s political participation. Soviet gender policy did not simply reproduce the restrained paternalism of the tsarist administration. It attempted, and in many ways succeeded, at a much more radical transformation in the realm of gender politics. What it does complicate is who was doing the defining. It is tempting to read...

Uzbekistan’s Heritage Did Not Stop With the Silk Road

When people think of Uzbekistan’s architectural heritage, the images are familiar: the turquoise domes of Samarkand, the madrasas of Bukhara, Khiva’s walled city, and the monuments of Shakhrisabz. But Uzbekistan’s history did not stop with the Silk Road. At its 48th session in July, UNESCO inscribed “Tashkent Modernist Architecture. Modernity and Tradition in Central Asia” on the World Heritage List. The new site brings together ten buildings and urban complexes constructed between the 1960s and the early 1990s, during the period in which Tashkent was dramatically rebuilt following the 1966 earthquake. The inscription deserves to be celebrated. More importantly, it expands the definition of what Uzbek heritage can be. [caption id="attachment_52926" align="aligncenter" width="1774"] Kosmonavtlar Metro Station, Tashkent; photo: Mathieu Lemoine[/caption] These buildings do not belong to the world of caravanserais and Timurid courts. They represent another layer of the country’s history: the ambitious and highly creative transformation of Soviet-era Tashkent. For decades, Central Asian heritage has often been viewed through a chronological hierarchy. The older a monument, the easier it is to recognize as heritage. Timurid architecture is obviously precious. A concrete building from the 1970s can appear more expendable. Tashkent shows why that distinction is too simple. UNESCO notes that the architecture developed after the earthquake combined industrialized construction and seismic engineering with local climatic, cultural and material conditions. The result was not simply Soviet modernism transplanted to Central Asia, but a distinct architectural language adapted to Tashkent. This broader understanding of heritage comes at an important moment. Uzbekistan is modernizing rapidly. Its cities are growing, tourism is expanding, infrastructure is improving and redevelopment is transforming urban space. Much of this change is necessary and welcome. Historic neighborhoods cannot be expected to function as open-air museums. Residents need reliable drinking water, sewage systems, heating, electricity, internet access, waste collection, accessibility, safe streets and comfortable housing. A leaking pipe is not “authenticity.” The more difficult question is how modernization takes place. [caption id="attachment_52925" align="aligncenter" width="1774"] Tashkent Modernist State Museum of History; photo: Mathieu Lemoine[/caption] Uzbekistan has already experienced how delicate that balance can be. In Shakhrisabz, large-scale redevelopment substantially altered the historic urban fabric. The historic center was placed on UNESCO’s List of World Heritage in Danger in 2016 and remains there today. The experience offers an important lesson: preserving monuments is not necessarily the same as preserving a city. A city can retain its most famous madrasa, mosque or mausoleum while losing part of its heritage if the streets, neighborhoods, businesses and communities surrounding them disappear. The pressure is not only architectural. As tourism grows and historic centers become more desirable, economic incentives change. Houses can become hotels and restaurants. Businesses serving residents can give way to businesses serving visitors. Traditional workshops can struggle with higher costs. Redevelopment can create pressure on residents to relocate. Bukhara illustrates why this is important. Its identity rests not only on monumental architecture but on a living economy of craftsmanship. Gold embroidery, ceramics, jewelry, woodwork and other trades remain sources of employment as well as cultural identity....

Opinion: Kazakhstan’s Demining Expertise Could Provide Boost to Afghanistan

According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), Afghanistan remains one of the most heavily mined countries in the world. During the first five months of 2026 alone, 175 people were killed or injured by landmines and unexploded ordnance, with children accounting for approximately 75% of the victims. Behind these figures lies a daily reality of fear: farmers cannot safely cultivate their fields, children cannot walk to school without risk, and road construction equipment cannot reach critical transport routes. In practice, this continues to hinder the development of the entire region. Mine-contaminated land prevents the recovery of agriculture, blocks the construction of roads, complicates the return of displaced populations, and significantly increases the cost of infrastructure projects. According to the Landmine and Cluster Munition Monitor, Afghanistan ranks among the world’s most heavily mined territories, alongside Bosnia and Herzegovina, Cambodia, Ethiopia, Iraq, and Ukraine.  A Barrier to Central and South Asian Integration For Kazakhstan and the other countries of Central Asia, this issue also carries  strategic significance. Without stability in Afghanistan, the implementation of Eurasian transport projects and the expansion of trade links with South Asia become increasingly difficult. Globally, humanitarian demining is no longer viewed simply as a charitable activity. Today, it represents the starting point of any major infrastructure project. Railways cannot be laid, nor can high-voltage transmission lines be built, where the ground itself remains hostile to human activity. Virtually every prospective transport corridor connecting Central Asia with ports on the Indian Ocean passes through Afghan territory, including major projects such as the development of the Trans-Afghan Corridor and the CASA-1000 project electricity project. International experience demonstrates that humanitarian demining in Cambodia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, and Azerbaijan created the conditions for economic recovery, the return of displaced populations, and the attraction of foreign investment. From Kazbat’s Experience to a New Humanitarian Mission Unlike most countries in the region, Kazakhstan possesses substantial practical experience in conducting mine-clearance operations. Between 2003 and 2008, Kazakhstan’s military engineering unit, Kazbat, participated in the international mission in Iraq, destroying approximately 4.5 million explosive devices. Initially, Kazakh sappers cleared residential neighborhoods and agricultural land of unexploded ordnance. Later, they expanded their operations to locating and destroying underground and above-ground weapons depots abandoned after the conflict. These operations prevented millions of rounds of ammunition from falling into the hands of terrorist organizations. The mission came at a cost. In January 2005, 29-year-old Captain Kairat Kudabayev was killed when munitions detonated during preparations for disposal, while several other Kazakh servicemen were injured. Kazakh specialists also supplied local communities with purified drinking water and provided medical assistance, demonstrating a comprehensive approach to post-conflict recovery. More than 5,000 Iraqi civilians received medical treatment, while approximately 7,000 cubic meters of drinking water were purified. The expertise Kazakhstan accumulated could now evolve into a civilian-focused mission centered on protecting civilian populations and supporting Afghanistan’s long-term economic recovery. How a New Regional Platform Could Operate Kazakhstan’s international development agency, KazAID, could serve as the national...