The concept of a “besieged fortress,” adopted by the Kremlin in the second half of the 2010s, increasingly conflicts with Russia’s earlier foreign policy doctrine, under which post-Soviet states were expected to remain within Moscow’s sphere of influence. That doctrine relied on alliances across the post-Soviet space, with Central Asia often described as an area of privileged interest. By contrast, the “besieged fortress” narrative assumes encirclement by enemies and frames external communication less in diplomatic than in military terms.

Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, officially termed a “special military operation” by Moscow, has now lasted longer than the Soviet Union’s involvement in World War II, undermining earlier assumptions that some post-Soviet economies would remain dependent on Russian loans and access to the Russian market.

In the integration sphere, Kazakh political analyst Marat Shibutov has argued that Russia is effectively “reducing its participation in the EAEU by reinstating permanent customs controls on the borders with Kazakhstan and Belarus.” Such assessments reflect growing debate within the region over the future of integration mechanisms.

At the same time, segments of the Russian media space have adopted increasingly confrontational rhetoric toward Kazakhstan. In recent weeks, television host Vladimir Solovyov suggested the possibility of extending a “special military operation” to Central Asia, remarks that triggered strong reactions in Kazakhstan.

Political commentator Dmitry Verkhoturov followed with statements directed specifically at Astana, invoking the sensitive historical subject of Asharshylyk, the term used in Kazakhstan for the famine of the early 1930s that followed forced collectivization under Joseph Stalin. In Ukraine, the same period is referred to as the Holodomor and is recognized there as a genocide. Kazakhstan’s official terminology does not classify the famine in those terms.

Last year, the inscription on a memorial in Astana dedicated to the victims of collectivization was revised. The earlier wording referred to “victims of the Holodomor,” while the updated plaque reads “victims of the famine of 1932-1933.” The change was widely interpreted as aligning the memorial with Kazakhstan’s established historical framing.

Despite this, Verkhoturov warned that further public discussion of Asharshylyk could be dangerous for Kazakhstan “from the point of view of statehood,” suggesting that such debates might escalate into armed confrontation. He also stated that Kazakhstan was “too weak and small” to oppose Russia, remarks that were widely perceived in Kazakhstan as dismissive and offensive.

Particular outrage was sparked by comments contrasting Ukrainians and Kazakhs, “for us, Ukrainians are very close relatives, they are practically our own people. And yet, yes, they have brought us to a situation where we have started to fight them, while Kazakhs are not quite our own people for Russians. Yes, you can be friends with them and all that, but they are still distant people, and, as they say, they will be beaten more willingly and, it seems, more harshly than the Ukrainians,” the Russian political scientist said.

Kazakh political analyst Gaziz Abishev characterized the comparison as “hard-to-hide racism.” He argued that the tragedy of the famine is not exclusively a Kazakh or Ukrainian issue, noting that millions of Russians also suffered during the period of mass famine and political repression. In his view, acknowledging the shared historical trauma should not threaten statehood but could instead provide grounds for collective remembrance.

Abishev also rejected claims of “Ukrainization” or alleged “Russophobia” in Kazakhstan, pointing out that Kazakhstan remains a member of both the CSTO and the Eurasian Economic Union, maintains a unified air defense system with Russia, hosts military facilities and the Baikonur Cosmodrome, and continues institutional cooperation across multiple sectors.

While Abishev described Verkhoturov’s remarks as “irresponsible propaganda” rather than representative of official Russian policy, he suggested that the response of Russian authorities would indicate whether such rhetoric is supported, tolerated, or rejected.

“The Kazakh state does not necessarily have to respond publicly,” Abishev said, suggesting that the statements resemble provocation. “But they cannot be ignored either.”

Verkhoturov’s comments are not isolated. In recent months, some Russian commentators have increasingly accused Kazakhstan of “Russophobia”, a narrative that analysts note was also used in the run-up to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.