• KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
  • KZT/USD = 0.00222
  • TJS/USD = 0.10820
  • UZS/USD = 0.00009
  • TMT/USD = 0.29760
12 September 2026

Viewing results 1 - 6 of 44

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...

Can Uzbekistan’s Green Transition Offset Its Gas Decline?

Uzbekistan faces a widening energy gap. Natural gas production peaked in 2008 and, after a partial recovery in the late 2010s, has fallen sharply. Official figures show output dropped from 61.6 billion cubic meters (bcm) in 2018 to 41.5 bcm in 2024. Production fell another 15% year on year in the first quarter of 2026. The gap is already being filled from abroad. Russian gas deliveries rose 15% in 2025 to nearly 6.5 bcm, while Uzbekistan also imports gas from Turkmenistan. Renewable electricity cannot replace every household or industrial use of gas. It can reduce the volume burned in power stations, leaving more domestic fuel available elsewhere. Declining output is already changing Uzbekistan’s external position. The country, once a net gas exporter, became a net importer in 2023. Imports help protect households and factories from shortages, but they add costs and increase exposure to Russian and Turkmen supplies. Renewable generation therefore serves an energy security purpose even before its climate benefits are counted. Natural gas remains the central concern. In its 2022 review, the International Energy Agency said it provided about 85% of Uzbekistan’s total energy and electricity supplies. The government expected gas demand to rise by 30% to 65 bcm by 2030, while electricity demand would roughly double. The IEA also warned that reserves would last fewer than 20 years at the production rate then prevailing. This was a reserve-to-production estimate, not a fixed depletion date. New discoveries or investment could extend it. Lower consumption would do the same. The government has responded with a rapid renewable buildout. In 2025, solar and wind plants generated more than 10.5 billion kWh of electricity. Renewable generation, including hydropower, reached 16.8 billion kWh. The Ministry of Energy said this saved about 3.2 bcm of natural gas. That saving was equivalent to roughly half the volume Russia supplied during the year. It shows that renewables already ease the shortage. Yet 3.2 bcm remains far below the roughly 20 bcm fall in annual gas production since 2018. On current figures, the green transition is slowing the impact of the decline, not yet offsetting it. The buildout forms part of Uzbekistan’s 2019 Green Economy Transition Strategy. Renewable projects bring foreign investment and create opportunities for domestic suppliers. In December 2025, President Shavkat Mirziyoyev said local companies had supplied $700 million of materials and electrical equipment while also providing services to energy projects. Renewable generation also limits import demand by reducing the gas burned in power stations. Large projects depend heavily on decisions by the state. Procurement and land allocation affect who receives contracts. Grid access and investment approvals shape how quickly plants are completed. RFE/RL has documented concerns over opaque subcontracting in Uzbekistan’s solar sector. Its 2024 investigation found that two subcontractors on the Sherabad project were absent from publicly available documents. One company had been incorporated only two days after construction began. A founder denied accusations of corruption, while principal contractor Masdar did not respond to questions. The investigation did not establish that the...

What Building Central Asian Supply Chains Taught Me About AI

I took over spare-parts supply at BPK Auto in Ust-Kamenogorsk in the mid-2000s, at the age of 25, moving from selling cars. The company was the general dealer for VAZ in Kazakhstan, assembled Niva models in the city, and was taking on Skoda, Chevrolet, and Kia while building service centers across the country to meet the expectations of those brands for a dealer. My job was to keep parts flowing to all of it. Several thousand vehicles came through in a month, and a single car contains something like 50,000 separate part numbers. The service teams wanted as many of those as possible sitting on the shelves. From where they stood, that made sense, because they were judged on whether a mechanic could start a repair the same day, whether a customer complained, and an ISO audit was running over the service operation at the same time. From the procurement side, the arithmetic looked different. Some parts cost two or three thousand dollars and were fitted once or twice a year, and holding them across four model lines tied up a large share of the company's working capital. I built the forecast in spreadsheets and checked it against actual sales once the month closed in 1C. To run it, I needed the service side's own records: how many vehicles of each type they had seen, and what had been repaired. I asked for them for months. They would not release them. Some of that was habit; a warehouse full of everything being what a well-run operation had looked like for the previous 40 years. More of it sat in how the two departments were counted. My result was recorded the moment the parts moved into the service center. Theirs was recorded much later, when the car left the workshop. Nobody was measured by the number that would have made the forecast work. The forecasting was the straightforward part of that job. The difficult part was building an operation in which people shared the information behind the forecast and were expected to act on its findings. Why a Better Model Would Not Have Changed the Outcome Put one of today's AI demand-forecasting systems into that same warehouse and very little changes. The forecast would be far better than anything I produced by hand. It would still depend on service records that nobody was willing to release, and where records did exist, it would be reading entries written up at the end of a long shift. It could not grant the purchasing manager authority to reorder against it, nor could it alter the measures by which the service department was judged. Better intelligence does not repair the path between operational data and operational action. Every party you add to that path lengthens it. A distribution network across Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan can run from a manufacturer to over 45,000 small retail outlets, served through more than 18 distribution centers, with 1,391 field staff taking and checking orders on the ground. An order begins...

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...

Turkmenistan and the New Geopolitics of Silicon

Central Asia is not foreign to the emerging geopolitics of silicon and artificial intelligence (AI). Kazakhstan especially has made itself noticed, joining the US-led Pax Silica initiative in June and the Chinese-led World Artificial Intelligence Cooperation Organization (WAICO) in July. Kazakhstan is the only country participating in both initiatives, which is characteristic of Astana’s multi-vector diplomacy. Whilst other Central Asian states have joined WAICO, Turkmenistan, consistent with its permanent neutrality stance, has joined neither. Neutrality, however, does not prevent economic participation, and a case has to be made for Turkmenistan. Two Frameworks for International Cooperation Although both initiatives respond to the same underlying reality - the growing strategic importance of artificial intelligence - they differ in scope and emphasis. Pax Silica is built around the material and economic foundations of AI, focusing on securing and coordinating the physical supply chains that make computation possible and aiming implicitly to reduce reliance on China. WAICO, by contrast, is centered on the political and normative dimension of AI, prioritizing governance, safety standards, and international coordination, where Beijing could push its rhetoric in favour of open-source artificial intelligence as a model for AI development. Taken together, they reflect two complementary but distinct ways of structuring the emerging AI order: one rooted in industrial capacity and supply-chain control, the other in multilateral rules. On that matter, Turkmenistan's possible relevance does not lie in software, semiconductor fabrication or AI regulation, but much further upstream: silicon metallurgy. From Gas to Silicon Silicon is abundant in nature, but transforming it into industrial materials is an energy-intensive process. Quartz or quartzite is used to produce both silicon ferroalloys and silicon metal. Ferrosilicon is principally consumed by the iron and steel industries, where it serves as a deoxidizing and alloying agent. Silicon metal, meanwhile, is used in aluminum alloys and chemical production, while a small share is further purified into the extremely high-purity silicon required by the semiconductor industry. Ferrosilicon should not be presented as a material that goes directly into AI chips. But establishing competitive ferrosilicon production can constitute a first industrial step into the broader family of silicon metallurgy. And Turkmenistan has already begun considering precisely that. In 2020, the Turkmen authorities reported that the Ministry of Industry was studying the production of metallurgical-grade silicon using local resources. Practical tests had already been conducted using quartz sand, metal mixtures and petroleum coke, while the government presented the development of domestic mineral resources as part of a broader strategy of industrialization and export diversification. The ambition became more concrete in January 2024. Turkmenistan's Ministry of Industry and Construction Production launched an international tender for a feasibility study for a ferroalloy plant intended to manufacture ferrosilicon, silicon carbide, and technical silicon. A 2024 feasibility study for such a project envisions a plant in Balkan Velayat capable of producing 15,000 tons of FeSi75 ferrosilicon annually. The proposed complex would operate two 12,500 kVA furnaces. Rather than depending exclusively on domestic raw materials, the study envisages sourcing quartzite from nearby Iran and...

The Tradition of Power – Why Political Succession in Central Asia Follows Its Own Rules

In January 2027, Kyrgyzstan will hold a presidential election, an event that is anything but routine for the Central Asian republic. Over the past three decades, political crises, often surrounding disputed elections, have repeatedly ended in the removal of presidents. Kyrgyzstan remains an outlier in the region, although it, too, has gradually been moving towards a political model that has long become the norm across the rest of Central Asia. This year marks 35 years since the Soviet republics embarked on independent political lives following the collapse of the USSR. Yet many of the mechanisms governing the transfer of supreme power, shaped during the Soviet era, continue to define politics across the independent states. In Central Asia, three decades of independence have produced a distinctive model of political succession. The final years of the Soviet Union became known as the era of the so-called "gun-carriage race." As one ageing General Secretary after another passed away, an unwritten rule appeared to emerge: the official who chaired the state funeral commission for the deceased leader often became his successor. A remarkably similar pattern later emerged in Central Asia – first in Turkmenistan, then in Uzbekistan. Turkmenistan's first president, Saparmurat Niyazov, died in December 2006. The state funeral commission was chaired by Deputy Prime Minister and Health Minister Gurbanguly Berdimuhamedov, who simultaneously became acting president. It was during those funeral ceremonies that the wider public was introduced for the first time to the family of Turkmenbashi. Under the constitution, parliamentary speaker Ovezgeldy Atayev should have assumed the presidency. Instead, he was stripped of immunity and arrested, clearing the way for Berdimuhamedov to take the acting presidency. After assuming the presidency in 2007, Berdimuhamedov gradually abandoned the more eccentric elements of his predecessor's personality cult while building a political system centered on his own leadership. If Niyazov styled himself Turkmenbashi – Leader of All Turkmens – his successor adopted the title Arkadag, or Protector of the Nation. In February 2022, Berdimuhamedov unexpectedly announced that he would step down following an early presidential election scheduled for March 12. He explained the decision by saying it was time to "give the younger generation an opportunity to govern the country." Few doubted that he was referring to his son Serdar Berdimuhamedov, who by then had already occupied most of the key positions within the state hierarchy. That is precisely what happened. Serdar Berdimuhamedov became president, while his father moved to the chairmanship of the Halk Maslahaty, retaining the title of National Leader of the Turkmen People. Uzbekistan followed a similar pattern, although under different circumstances. Islam Karimov built a highly centralized presidential system that left virtually no room for political competition. This applied not only to political opponents, but also to those closest to the president. His eldest daughter, Gulnara Karimova, was placed under house arrest while her father was still alive. Following his death, she was convicted and remains imprisoned in Uzbekistan. When Karimov died in September 2016, reports of his death circulated for several days...