This week, the Philippines instituted a nationwide, five-month ban on guns in the run-up to elections in May. Several thousand checkpoints are due to be set up and dozens of people have already been arrested for violating the ban.

Such a drastic measure – in a country with an estimated 1 million unlicensed guns and dozens of private militias controlled by political leaders and warlords – is seen as necessary given high levels of political violence surrounding elections in recent years. In 2007 more than 100 people died in violence around local elections. More recently, last November saw the massacre of 57 people in Maguindanao, and several local election candidates have been killed in different parts of the country. Kidnappings have also occurred, which makes it even more striking that the ban applies to private bodyguards. Even off-duty police and military are expected to leave their guns at home.

I was personally struck by this story because it reminded me that at times the study of political violence can wander into rather abstract territory. It's possible to spend a lot of time talking about ideology, psychology, social movement theory, indoctrination, cyber-recruitment, et cetera – and forget about the actual instruments of violence that militants use. Without the bomb and the gun, would we even care what radicalised fringe movements are up to? And yet, it seems to me we don't spend enough time considering access to weaponry as part of holistic counter-campaigns against political violence throughout the world (and when we do, it is often at the extreme end of terrorist acquisition of WMD).

In some ways, this makes sense. Guns and bomb-making materials are ubiquitous in modern society – easily trafficked and bought, relatively inexpensive, difficult to eliminate entirely. Why focus on the instruments of violence when their presence and availability are largely a given part of the equation?

But surely it is just as naïve or idealistic to think that radically minded and violently oriented individuals will ever be completely eliminated from society as well. Their specific pathology and political mindset may vary from decade to decade, but as a sub-constituency of modernity their continuing presence can be safely assumed.

The Filipino example highlights the extent to which political will – not projected efficacy – drives anti-violence strategies. Plenty of CT officials in the US, for example, wonder whether Mumbai-style attacks will emerge in the American homeland; we’ve already seen the tragic example of how much damage firearms can wield in the Fort Hood shootings.  Yet there is virtually no chance that significant gun control measures will be enacted in the United States. Even the nationally traumatic mass shootings at Columbine and Virginia Tech did not generate sustained political interest in gun control. The idea that a country would ban guns as a preventive measure simply would not compute in an American cultural and legal context.

At the same time, efforts to control the vast flow of small arms around the globe have been hampered by both practical difficulties – such as the sheer number of guns in ungovernable conflict zones – and a lack of collective political action at the international level. The Obama administration has indicated a greater openness to multilateral efforts to control the small arms trade, generating the predictable howls of outrage among certain domestic American constituencies (who also, by the by, display some interesting ideological narratives of their own, as well as an apparently unswerving commitment to Godwin's law).

In short, while the Filipino example has its limits – i.e., we cannot count on a global gun ban to solve the problem of political violence – I think it's an interesting example of how different political contexts can generate different anti-violence strategies.  Its temporary nature also showcases a certain sort of societal expediency, with restrictive measures tied to specific events rather than implemented ad infinitum (thus potentially antagonising key actors and the general populace).

It is also, in the end, a refreshingly honest step to take – a way of admitting that political tensions in the country are at such a level that violence cannot be mediated or precluded without removing the instruments of force themselves. It is this sort of embrace of reality – rather than a fatalistic submission to the ubiquity of weapons – that one hopes might catch on in other parts of the world. At the very least, I think it deserves a greater voice in our ongoing discussions.

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My friend and former colleague Naureen Chowdhury Fink has a fine brief on militancy and radicalisation in Bangladesh in the most recent Asian Conflicts Report (pdf). The situation in Bangladesh may be overshadowed by more dramatic developments elsewhere in the region, but it's worth a look given the importance of preventing an escalation in militancy in another corner of South Asia as well as the potential for developing new approaches based on some positive aspects of the Bengali experience.

One of the key points of the brief is the need to consider militancy and radicalisation within the context of governance and development as well as security. (Interestingly, Naureen notes that this should be done at least at the decision-making level, if not necessarily in the public sphere; I’d like to hear more about this distinction.) With respect to the importance of the governance sector, two issues in Bangladesh stand out – not just because of their local salience, but because they tend to hold true in other countries where militancy and radicalisation are a problem:

1. The Normalisation of Political Violence

Naureen writes, 'The highly partisan and confrontational nature of politics in Bangladesh has created an enabling environment for the emergence of militant groups by normalizing the use of violence to express political disagreement and promoting a culture of impunity'. This reminds us that in tracing the evolution of militant groups, a focus on group dynamics and behaviour should not be divorced from analysis of the broader political and normative culture in which it operates.

2. Corruption Facilitates Militancy

Wow, this sounds familiar: 'Nonetheless, in developing a reputation for integrity in office and a network of social services for the rural poor, Jamaat, or more militant groups outside the political system, can pose a significant challenge to secular governments branded as corrupt, self-serving and unable to provide for citizens' basic needs in Bangladesh'. This dynamic is a fairly common one that nevertheless remains poorly addressed within both analytical and political spheres. It’s one reason I’m happy to see the publication by Brookings of Corruption, Global Security and World Order (which has not yet arrived in my mailbox, but for which I have high hopes given the list of contributors).

At any rate, Bangladesh serves as a very interesting case study for many of the issues discussed in this blog and I recommend Naureen’s brief as a starting point for anyone unfamiliar with the country. This issue of ACR also has briefs on Maoist violence in India and Thailand’s Islamist insurgency that are worth a look.

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In the wake of the Fort Hood shooting, commentators on this blog and elsewhere have been exploring more broadly the connections between grievances, ideology and violent action. Too often there is a tendency to see a certain inevitability in processes of violence, to believe that people with particular grievances will inevitably be tempted to engage in or at least support violent acts. I thought it might be interesting to look at a case that disrupts these assumptions.

A very fine organisation that I used to work for in Washington, the Middle East Institute, is hosting its annual conference this week. At the opening session, an award was presented to Dr Izzeldin Abuelaish, a Palestinian doctor, for his efforts in promoting peace and reconciliation between Israelis and Palestinians. An obstetrician who worked for many years in both Israel and Gaza, he continually engaged people on both sides in projects that would deepen understanding (such as joint research on the effects on conflict on children in Gaza and in Israel) and in humanitarian efforts, including bringing desperately ill Palestinians into Israel for treatment.

His commitment to peace is made even more remarkable by the events of 16 January 2009. Dr Abuelaish lost three daughters and a niece when an Israeli shell hit their home in Jabaliya, Gaza. He was at the scene and saw with his own eyes the blown-apart remains of his daughters. (The Israeli army said it was returning fire after being fired upon from the area.) A Reuters TV report on the incident can be seen here.

Despite this personal tragedy, Dr. Abuelaish has not forsaken his efforts to build peace and understanding. At the MEI conference, he explained his thinking thusly:

For me the 16th of January, 2009, is the day when my three precious daughters and niece were killed by Israeli shells. It is hard to describe the dreadful scene and events of that day. The body parts of those beautiful girls – each of them was a special world – spread over the ceiling and were drowning in a pool of blood. I do not want anyone in this world to witness or see what I have seen.

But we are all human and we all make mistakes and commit sins from time to time. As a believer with deep faith as a Muslim, I fully believe that what I have lost – what was taken from me – will never come back. I need to go forward and be motivated by the spirit of those I lost and do them justice…

We need to discover the humanness inside all of us and adopt it as our pathway. We have to defend loudly the humanity that we all belong to and in this way we defend ourselves. Willingness and talking is not enough. It is a matter of action. As Martin Luther King said, our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. In the end we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends…

What do we need to understand and respect each other, and that the dignity of all is equal and live in collaboration and partnership? We need to smash and destroy the mental and physical barriers within each of us and between us. Let us build a new generation who believes that advancing human civilization is a joint project and that the most holy things in the universe are humankind and freedom. Instead of building walls of separation, let us build a bridge of understanding, respect and love, and restore the trust we need to activate our big open minds, hearts, eyes and arms.

The personal experience of losing family and friends to violence is often cited in studies of radicalisation within conflict zones. It is perhaps one of the more easily understood factors – after all, feelings of loss and the desire for revenge are not ideologically dependent but emotionally and psychologically resonant across wildly varying human societies. But the story of Dr. Abuelaish – and the many other Palestinians who support peace and reconciliation efforts – reminds us that any investigation into the sources of political violence must also consider those upon 'the path not taken'. To engage in violence is a choice – not a predetermined outcome – and a choice made at the expense of alternative paths. Understanding why people with similar grievances make divergent choices is a complex field within the broader political violence literature.

Finally, I would call attention to Dr Abuelaish's evocation of Dr Martin Luther King. When we talk about global ideologies, we tend to think of those that advocate extremism and/or violence; we equate the term with threats. It is worth remembering the vast, cross-cultural influence of ideas and ideologies that promote non-violent activism, pacifism and transnational cooperation in pursuit of peace. In most conflict zones, peace activists get little support or attention and it is all too easy to dismiss their efforts, or conflate genuine peace activism with political efforts of a more dubious nature.

Nevertheless, the global network that rests upon the ideas of people like Dr King and Mahatma Gandhi, and that endures in the same political and military space as global networks of jihadism or other violent tendencies, offers an interesting counterpoint to many of the ideas now circulating in media and policy circles.


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The idea that the US would in any way provide assistance to a terrorist group affiliated with the Taliban and Al Qaeda must seem laughable to many. Yet this is exactly what the Iranian government and an array of international observers believe to be the case. In the wake of last week's revelation that Ahmed Wali Karzai is apparently on the CIA payroll, it's worth remembering the long history of covert US support for unpalatable characters and the resilience of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' thinking.

Let's not also forget that the 'global war on terror' is not the only focus of US strategic thinking, and there are bound to be times where its objectives conflict with other important strategic considerations – such as the ongoing US confrontation with Iran.

To be clear from the outset: the US emphatically denies providing any support to Jundallah, which rocketed back into the news recently with a dramatic suicide bombing in Sistan-Baluchistan that killed several dozen people, including high-level Revolutionary Guard officers. Formed in 2003, Jundallah is a extremist Sunni group (most closely affiliated with the Deobandi tradition) that engages in violence in support of a typical narrative of self-defence, in this case on behalf of the ethnically, religiously and linguistically distinct Baluchi people.

While Baluchi separatism remains a potent cause across the three states in which they are found – Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan – Jundallah specifically focuses on Iran's Shi'ite regime and claims to fight not for separatism but merely greater rights and equality. Based in Pakistani territory, it has carried out a number of attacks in Iran in the past few years, including car bombs, ambushes, mass abductions and suicide attacks. Jundallah has apparently strong links to Pakistani Taliban networks and alleged connections to Al Qaeda; it shares both organisations' vehement anti-Shi'a rhetoric and violence.

Like most militant groups, Jundallah requires a significant amount of funding whose sources are murky at best. There is little doubt that the group profits from the enormous flow of drugs traversing the Pakistan-Iran border in that region (by providing protection rackets rather than direct involvement in the trade itself). Beyond that, we are in the realm of allegations, suspicions and denials. Iran has accused not only the US but Pakistan and Saudi Arabia of supporting Jundallah.

There is, of course, a broad spectrum of activities that could fall under the rubric of 'support', from direct financial and military assistance to covert training to network development. Outside of the Iranian government, few seem to believe that the US is directly funding Jundallah or providing it with weapons or other military assistance.

A more likely scenario, as described in an ABC News report, is that the US has facilitated funding from other sources (such as the Saudis and expat Iranians) while also playing some kind of covert 'advisory' role. The aim would be to make use of Iran's indigenous opposition groups to destabilise and eventually bring down the current regime, a strategy that gained some currency during the Bush administration as a means of forestalling Iranian nuclear development without direct military intervention. But as a recent Foreign Policy article noted:

"[T]he Barack Obama administration might be tempted to use direct or indirect funding as a means of surrogate warfare to further pressure Iran's government. Violent anti-Iranian Sunni groups like Jundallah have not been placed on the U.S. State Department's terrorism list. And the Obama administration might feel that it's already being punished for the perception that it's funding the rebels and may as well try to reap some of the rewards.
But this would be shortsighted. The basic problem with any strategy to destabilize Iran via Sunni tribal rebellions is that Baluch nationalism spans three countries -- not just Iran, but also Afghanistan and Pakistan. Supporting a pan-Baluchistan movement would only worsen societal instability and national fragmentation in West Asia and South Asia."

The question of US support for Jundallah highlights a flaw in concepts like the 'global war on terror' and 'global insurgency'.  If we conceive of our worldwide struggle against terrorism and extremism as a unitary effort, this implies some level of consistency and ideological rigour – we will combat terrorism in any manifestation, in any location.

However, this kind of analytical framework does not always match real-world political and strategic considerations, in which the temptation to utilise terrorist groups as proxy armies against our adversaries must be fairly high.

Has the US given in to this temptation? In the absence of 'smoking gun' evidence, I remain agnostic on this question. If hard evidence of US support (indirect or otherwise) were to surface tomorrow, however, I would not be in the least surprised. Would you?

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While the Home Office bemoans the law lords ruling that forced them to revoke a control order against a British-Libyan imam rather than reveal sensitive information, their counterparts in Uzbekistan suffer no such inconvenient constraints.

EurasiaNet reports on the difficulties encountered in getting any information at all about the ongoing trial of at least a dozen people suspected of carrying out the attacks in Andijan and Khanabad in May. As we previously discussed here, responsibility for the attacks was claimed by the Islamic Jihad Union. President Karimov vowed to find the individuals responsible, and after arrests were made promised a fair and open trial. Now, however, the latter promise seems to have gone by the wayside.

It is hardly surprising that the Uzbek regime would shirk transparency and accountability in this instance, especially given the murky nature of militant activities in the country and the need to maintain a convenient terrorist bogeyman to justify repressive government actions. A fair and open trial risks revealing information embarrassing or incriminating for the regime, or puncturing the official characterisation of the terrorist threat.

The vague nature of Uzbekistan's public anti-terrorism campaign can also be seen in the recent posting of Wanted posters in Tashkent for individuals suspected of 'grave crimes' (apparently, religious extremism) for which no details are given.

One would not really expect much more from a regime such as Karimov's. One might, however, be a bit surprised to hear that OSCE's Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights believes that Uzbekistan is making progress on human rights. While I'm sure the unnamed defendants in the Andijan case are relieved that the death penalty has been abolished, I imagine it's not much consolation if they end up spending the rest of their lives in jail after a trial that seems anything but fair and open.

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On a lighter note, one of the biggest stories to come out of Central Asia lately is the tale of Tajik Jimmy (picture), Russia's own version of Susan Boyle, who merited a full profile in the New York Times recently. Baimurat Allaberiyev, a former shepherd turned migrant worker in Russia, has shot to fame after YouTube clips of his remarkable performances of Bollywood songs went viral. One of the earlier ones can be seen here; a more professional version here. He really does seem a remarkable talent, and one hopes that the trials he was enduring at the time of his profile interview (during which he asked for money to replace the teeth knocked out by thugs earlier this year) will soon pass.
 

 

Image courtesy AFP - Getty Images

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Tahir Yuldashev may not have the name recognition of Mullah Omar or Baitullah Mehsud, but his reported death represents a quite significant milestone nonetheless.

Yuldashev was the co-founder of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan and, after relocating to Waziristan following the near-elimination of the IMU in Afghanistan, reputedly enjoyed close links with Mehsud over the past few years.

His death comes at a time when the future of Central Asian militancy is in flux and hotly debated amongst experts.

Yuldashev first came to the attention of Uzbek authorities in the early 1990s, when he and Jumaboi Khojaev (later better known as Juma Namangani) led a group of disillusioned Islamist activists in the Ferghana Valley.

Their movement, called Adolat, rejected the political gradualism of the local Islamic Renaissance Party organisation and instead called for the overthrow of the Karimov regime and the establishment of an Islamic state in Central Asia. Banned by the regime in 1992, Adolat members fled to Tajikistan just as that country’s civil war was kicking off. Namangani became an effective, respected and charismatic paramilitary leader, fighting on behalf of Islamist opposition forces, while Yuldashev travelled around South Asia and the Middle East to raise funds and network.

Several events in 1996-97 prompted Yuldashev and Namangani to move to Afghanistan: the winding down of the Tajik civil war; fresh crackdowns in Uzbekistan; and proffers of support from the Taliban and bin Laden.

In 1998, they announced the formation of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan. Over the next three years, they launched a series of attacks and raids in Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, quickly becoming the most capable and dangerous Central Asian militant group (while also becoming a major player in regional narco-trafficking).

By early 2002, however, the IMU had more or less ceased to exist: in fighting alongside the Taliban against Coalition forces in Afghanistan, most of their fighters had been killed (including Namangani) while the rest scattered. Yuldashev managed to find sanctuary in Waziristan, and since then the Uzbek militant contingent has reportedly regrouped, running training camps and working with Pakistani Taliban forces, while maintaining links to Al Qaeda.

The scope of their activities, however, has been fiercely debated, with some analysts claiming they have a minimal presence while others attribute to them more significant numbers and influence.

There can be little doubt that the apparent death of Yuldashev by drone strike – after so many years of successfully evading death at the hands of various regimes and military forces – will strike a serious blow to morale among both Uzbek militants and Pakistani Taliban (especially so soon after the similar fate of Mehsud).

It is also a welcome propaganda boost for, in particular, the Uzbek regime. However, it is not clear that there will be any lingering operational effects, and no one is predicting that Uzbek militants will suddenly fade into obscurity. The increasing presence of IMU-linked militants in northern Afghanistan, particularly around Kunduz, as well as recent incursions into Tajikistan and attacks in Uzbekistan, suggest that Uzbek and other Central Asian militants sense new opportunities for reviving their campaign in the region.

The death of an important leader will necessarily create disruption, but the networks, aims and tactics he helped to inculcate amongst his followers remain.

I would not like to make any firm predictions on what will happen next, but militant activity in Central Asia does appear to be trending steadily upward, and it is unlikely that even the loss of Yuldashev will do much to arrest this.

So far, there does not appear to be much coverage or analysis on Yuldashev’s death, perhaps because his death has been previously reported only to be proven erroneous (usually the debunking occurs much more quickly, however). For now, more details can be found at:

VOA News

Reuters

SwissInfo

Russia Today

Long War Journal

Chennai Centre for China Studies

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The International Crisis Group has released an intriguing new report on the expansion of Hizb ut-Tahrir (HT) in Kyrgyzstan and, in particular, the role of women within this Islamist movement.  Given the inroads HT appears to be making across the region, the report offers useful information on the movement’s operations, membership and appeal to different social groups.

HT emerged in Central Asia following the breakup of the Soviet Union in 1991 and has since been widely repressed or banned by the region's increasingly authoritarian regimes. Its central aim is the restoration of the caliphate through 'peaceful political change' and educating Muslims about the deficiencies of Western socio-political systems (in Central Asia, this caliphate will be established in the Ferghana Valley).

Globally, the characterisation of HT as non-violent has been controversial, with critics alleging their ties to violent groups or, at the least, their role as a 'gateway' movement to more radical groups. In Central Asia there are concerns that militants returning from the Afghanistan/Pakistan theatre will turn HT cells toward violence. However, thus far there is little evidence of HT evolving in a violent direction in Kyrgyzstan.

The number of HT members, who operate clandestinely, is disputed: the government claims only a couple thousand, Crisis Group estimates up to 8,000, and scholars I spoke with in Bishkek last summer said the true number could reach into the tens of thousands.

It is important to note, however, that actual membership – which comes only after recruitment, training, exams and loyalty oaths – is magnified by the apparently much broader popular support and sympathy for HT among some parts of the population. This support is largely based within the rural, conservative, poorer and predominantly Uzbek segments of the southern regions but may be spreading into the middle-class and northern areas as well.

The report is highly useful in examining a little-examined topic: the role of women in radicalisation. More specifically, why would women enjoying the benefits of a secular-based society and government equality initiatives be attracted to a movement that seemingly revokes them? According to the report:

•    The lack of a strong national identity post-independence leads to more personal searches for identity, with three main potential models: Soviet, Western and Islamic. The cultural and historical deficiencies of the first two enhance the appeal of Islamic identities, as do the social mores of rural communities.

•    Official and local representatives of ‘traditional’ Islam often do not reach out to women, especially adult women. HT, on the other hand, effectively offer religious education and social services to women. The report notes, 'HT recruiters are not only often more competent in theological issues than traditional imams but also less rigid in their prescriptions. It is not all about prohibitions with them, a local journalist noted. Indoctrination takes place gradually, organically and almost imperceptibly, to both participants and state'.

•    Women suffer inordinately from the collapse of the Soviet state welfare system, high unemployment and growing socioeconomic inequality in Kyrgyz society. The social justice elements of HT teachings and the emphasis on the 'Islamic sisterhood' are thus very appealing, as are HT explanations of the causes of social ills. Local social services provided by HT also help alleviate the strain of economic suffering.

•    In conservative areas, women are rather restricted in their social activities and status. HT meetings (which are gender-segregated) provide an acceptable outlet for women to socialise, build relationships and gain social prestige.

•    HT taps into broad popular dissatisfaction with the current political system and promises women that within a caliphate they would have more opportunities to express themselves politically and religiously.

The report goes on to detail HT recruitment and training practices for women, as well as recommendations for government and donor initiatives to curtail the expansion of HT membership among the Kyrgyz population generally. All in all, it is a very interesting case study that should be of interest to anyone focusing on radicalisation mechanisms and outcomes.

I find myself most interested in the motivations of Kyrgyz women to join HT, as they seem to be a mix of the universal and the particular. For example, it is not unusual for population groups who feel powerless or alienated to join such movements; it is interesting, however, that HT child care services are proving effective in bringing women into their sphere, as it shows a real understanding of local needs and an openness to female membership that is lacking in other Islamist movements.

It will be interesting to see whether HT proves more successful than other movements at least in part because of its outreach to women – thus far, its appeal has been mostly linked to its continued non-violent stance, but this report opens up other possible explanations.

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This summer has provided further evidence that Kazakhstan's chairing of the OSCE next year will rank high on what I can only call the WTFometer. Forget the fact that Kazakhstan is not, by any generous interpretation (I'm looking at you UEFA) a European state; neither is Canada or the USA (or the UK, according to some people…) What about the fact that one of the least free and most corrupt states in the world will be chairing an organisation meant to promote human rights and democracy? Well, we all survived Libya chairing the Human Rights Commission.

But what practically guarantees a year of rueful eye-rolling is the fact that despite international concern over the Kazakh chairmanship, the Nazarbayev regime continues to pursue repressive domestic policies and practices, even those which violate its commitments to the very organisation it is meant to lead.  One of the latest examples is the new Kazakh internet law enacted in July. Joanna Lillis reports:

The new Internet law classifies all websites, blogs and chatrooms in the Kazakhstan domain as media outlets, subjecting them to strict regulation, and introduces restrictions on the reporting of elections, rallies, and strikes. The bill drew fire at home and abroad. Human Rights Watch called on Kazakhstan to rescind a law "that significantly restricts media freedoms" on July 14. Three days later, the Kazakhstan-OSCE 2010 NGO coalition complained that the law "violates Kazakhstani citizens' constitutional rights and is not consistent with internationally recognized principles of freedom of expression and freedom to exchange information as spelled out in the basic documents of the OSCE."
The bill's proponents say it is needed to fight cyber-crime, terrorism, extremism and pornography.

Yes, it's that old chestnut: using terrorism and extremism to justify restrictions on civil liberties. (Adding porn to the list, however, is a nice touch.)

So far, the situation is quite predictable. Chairing the OSCE is quite a coup for Kazakhstan (it will be the first ex-Soviet republic to do so) – even if the usual prestige and influence associated with the position is tainted by criticism. And it is not all that surprising that the regime is proving resistant to reform – its oil and gas reserves mean that significant pressure from the US and Europe is not likely forthcoming.

But two issues in particular are worth keeping an eye on. First, will the Kazakh chairmanship facilitate Russia's OSCE agenda? In recent years this has included closing or blocking missions in conflict zones of interest (particularly Georgia) and suspending its compliance with the CFE treaty. Second, will the OSCE's election monitoring programme be adversely affected, especially given Russian efforts to diminish its scope and capacity? (Not to mention previous OSCE criticism of Kazakh elections.)

In this sense, the Kazakh chairmanship is a bit more serious than Libya and the HRC – it could impact both hard and soft security issues (i.e., both conflict management and democratisation) across a fairly wide sphere. It is likely, however, that the regime will want to adhere to the current Central Asian vogue for balancing between Russia and the West, which means Russia should not bank on achieving all its aims next year either.

In the end, however, it seems clear that the brightest hope for the Kazakh chairmanship – that it would lead to domestic reform – is unlikely to pan out. This may be extremely disappointing, but it is hardly surprising.

 

 

 

Photo courtesy of European Dialogue

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Let's not pretend: the big story at the moment is the Afghan elections. If you fancy some distraction, however, some recent pieces on Central Asia might prove of interest.

We have MSM articles on topics we have touched on here: the New York Times, for example, takes on the 'returning militant' meme. Mansur Mirovalev offers a lengthy firsthand account (and photo essay) of the 'ghost buses' that carry Uzbek migrant workers to Russia.

The Institute for War & Peace Reporting details the futile attempts of Turkmen NGOs to officially exist in a country where like-minded conversation – even about beekeeping – equals dissent.

At New Eurasia, blogger Orazdurdy kicks off a Tajik travelogue with his account of Khorog, the regional capital on the Afghan border. He notes:

"The bazaar is patrolled by Tajik soldiers and police officers to prevent any backdoor drug deals. Not that this is the most likely spot for a deal to go down: the Panj River, which separates this region from Afghanistan, is at certain spots so narrow that you could throw a bag of heroin across the border. Patrols of young soldiers with Kalashnikovs trekking the entire 370-kilometer border isn’t going to do much to prevent this, either.  And check this out: locals say (on the down low, of course) that they can pocket $1500 within an hour for a kilo of heroin (notwithstanding that the same kilo in London would cost £45,000)."

Along these lines, Ghaith Abdul-Ahad reports on smuggling on the Tajik-Afghan border, providing further details on the flow of drugs north and stream of guns south.

RFE/RL reports on the suspicious deaths of a number of celebrated Kazakh athletes, and the belief that organised crime groups are to blame.

And finally, ForeignPolicy.com has determined the World's Worst Daughters – and small surprise, Gulnora Karimova of Uzbekistan heads the list.

While it may be silly season here in the UK, I haven't worked out yet the Central Asian equivalent of the fame-hungry squirrel or killer slime – but then, August isn't over yet. Let's see what next week brings!

 

 

Photo credit: Orazdurdy for neweurasia

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Earlier this year, Tajikistan enacted a new law on religious practice that has been criticised as overly restrictive – while it pays lip service to religious equality, it essentially limits worship to state-sanctioned forms. In large part the legislation was aimed at Salafi and extremist Islamic groups, but this week it was used to ban a Christian aid group accused of proselytising by authorities.

The group is ADRA International (the Adventist Development and Relief Agency), a Seventh-Day Adventist aid group operating in developing countries around the world, and in Tajikistan since 2002 (their website details their work building greenhouses in the Rasht valley). Now, however, the group has been banned within the country by a Dushanbe court after the Ministry of Justice submitted an application accusing the group of 'actively propagating Christianity to Tajiks during various English courses'.

This illustrates the extent to which Central Asian regimes, while focused on the threat from Islamist movements, are also concerned about the growing appeal of Christian sects. Jehovah's Witnesses, for example, are banned or kept from open worship throughout the region.

Last summer in Kyrgyzstan, I caught an early-morning TV show featuring an American televangelist type who had decided to focus his talents on Russian and Central Asian audiences. As in the US, he spoke on stage in front of a large and rapt audience. Unlike the US, he was shadowed by an equally enthusiastic Russian translator – a process that may or may not have diluted the fervour of his message. At any rate, I asked a number of people based in Kyrgyzstan whether Christian groups were making inroads in the country.

While reliable statistics are elusive, the general impression was that yes, membership in Christian groups was rising despite official persecution. The factors behind this were not dissimilar to those in other developing countries: people with poor or frustrated socioeconomic prospects, and with disrupted traditional communal ties, were drawn to groups offering hope, a sense of belonging and self-worth, a path to personal redemption, etc.

The Christian groups do not appear to have an explicitly political programme or to advocate violence in any way, which marks them as a different social phenomenon from some (not all) of the underground Islamist movements.

Yet their presence indicates that the appeal of alternative religious movements is not rooted solely in political or cultural factors specific to Central Asia or the Muslim world, but may also stem from more universal psychological and emotional needs of populations suffering deprivation, repression and dislocation.

The repression of these groups also shows the widespread tendency of authoritarian regimes to crack down on alternative sources of authority, even when such groups do not directly challenge the regime. The continued existence of underground Christian groups in Central Asia, however, exposes the limits of official bans on personal religious practice.

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Ten years ago this month, the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan burst onto the international scene with its armed incursions into Kyrgyzstan. Initial IMU aims – bringing down the Karimov regime and establishing an Islamic state in Central Asia – diversified with the group’s removal to Afghanistan and alliance with the Taliban; their subsequent near-extermination and regrouping in Pakistan following the Taliban’s collapse; and their reputed involvement in Central Asian narco-trafficking in the years since.

There is increasing evidence of renewed militancy across Central Asia in recent months. We have already noted here the attacks on Uzbek border posts and Kyrgyz security operations against militants. In Tajikistan, significant military operations have been waged around Tavildara against armed forces who have been variously described as former Islamist opposition fighters, drug traffickers, and militants trickling in from Afghanistan and Pakistan. Dushanbe, the Tajik capital, saw several small bombings recently – an extremely rare and worrying occurrence.

The Central Asian regimes have been quick to attribute violence to IMU militants. But is it really accurate, in any meaningful way, to describe them as IMU? Does the IMU still exist as a coherent group? There is not a lot of consensus in this area.

Ahmed Rashid tells RFE/RL that IMU militants in Afghanistan and Pakistan number ‘four or five thousand’ and comprise a number of different factions, some of which act as mercenaries for Pakistani militant groups. Jihadica recently published an article on the Islamic Jihad Union, a purported offshoot of the IMU; Joshua Foust, however, offered a lengthy critique of the evidence available thus far that the IJU exists and is indeed responsible for the acts attributed to it.

As noted, Central Asian regimes like to label militants as IMU – due to their previous, proven record of violence and unpopularity among the general population – but there is scant independent verification of their claims. While IMU founder Tahir Yuldash apparently remains alive and in Pakistan, some long-time observers there believe the IMU as a group is no longer an operational threat; instead it has evolved into a catchall brand, used to refer to a disparate universe of Central Asian fighters. UN officials and NGO experts I spoke with in Central Asia last summer also downplayed the security threat posed by the IMU and emphasised instead the involvement of militants in drug trafficking and organised crime. The only thing people tend to agree on is the overall murkiness of the militant scene in Central Asia.

The IMU brand is, for the most part, a negative one, wielded with alacrity by Central Asian regimes to delegitimise violent attacks and attract Western support for their own ‘war on terror’ (and along the way, discourage Western pressure to democratise). The effectiveness of this negative association can be seen in the numerous rebranding efforts of groups associated with the original IMU (such as the IJU).

So we wonder: what’s in a name? Does it matter if Central Asian and Western governments counter militant groups they call IMU when they are really IJU or some other offshoot? Probably, yes. First, effective countermeasures rely on solid network analysis and tracking the evolution of militant groups into different factions, as well as the emergence of autonomous cells with few links beyond aims and motivations. Second, there are political repercussions to going along with the IMU claims of Central Asian regimes (at the very least, it implies that resistance to Central Asian dictators is limited to one disgruntled group and there is little need for reform). Third, the quest for more accurate information on militants will also help reveal the true nature of the violence currently occurring – is it really terrorism and ideological violence, or is it linked more closely to organised crime or the settling of scores? It seems sometimes that the discussion of Central Asian militancy and the discussion of regional narco-trafficking exist in two separate spheres, despite the significant overlap in personnel, logistics, long-term networks, geography, etc.

In short, one hopes to see the emergence of more authoritative and verifiable evidence of who is behind the upswing of violence in the region – especially as it does not appear to be abating.

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Last week, as expected, Kurmanbek Bakiyev was reelected as president of Kyrgyzstan. We have previously described the authoritarian and corrupt tendencies within his regime, and the OSCE found the conduct of the election a 'disappointment' (full critique here).

Before the election was even concluded last Thursday, two opposition candidates declared the process fraudulent and called for new elections. There was no significant violence associated with the election, but opposition parties have called for demonstrations beginning late this week and continuing indefinitely.
 
Meanwhile, students in Turkmenistan who had hoped to study at the American University of Central Asia (AUCA) in Bishkek, the Kyrgyz capital, are being prevented from doing so. EurasiaNet reports that Turkmen students preparing to travel abroad have been told they must obtain new stamps and permits, which in classic Soviet style are proving nearly impossible to obtain in reality. The students having the most difficulty are those sponsored under US government aid initiatives (such as the US Central Asia Education Foundation) and those going to AUCA.
 
So is there an anti-American bias at work, and if so, would the US respond in any way? Possibly, although the timing would be curious given recent indications that Turkmenistan may be considering closer cooperation with the US and EU in the energy sphere. EurasiaNet notes:
 
"Ashgabat has sent signals in recent weeks that it is increasingly interested in joining a pipeline network that would circumvent Russia, and thus dramatically reduce the Kremlin’s influence in the Caspian Basin energy development game. American officials may be reluctant to do or say anything that might annoy Ashgabat, and therefore diminish the desire of Turkmen leaders to develop an energy partnership with the United States and European Union."
 
A more likely explanation for the Turkmen volte-face is a fear that their students will become exposed to the comparatively more open political climate in Kyrgyzstan at a time when it is at its most vibrant, following the contested election. (Tolkun Umaraliev writes up this view at NewEurasia). Despite official constraints, Kyrgyz civil society is large and active, as documented by AUCA's Social Research Centre.

The planned protests represent a degree of political freedom unknown in Turkmenistan – and one that has proven productive, as seen in 2005 when the so-called Tulip 'revolution' brought Bakiyev into power. Given the highly repressive and fairly paranoid style of rule in Turkmenistan, it is not altogether surprising that they would seek to isolate their youth from any potentially disruptive currents.
 
Radicalisation is, of course, a normative concept. Usually when we talk about radicalisation in the UK, we are discussing the mobilisation of people and communities toward extreme and violent ends. For a Central Asian dictator, however, radicalisation could also mean inculcating the population with ideas about political and personal freedom, free speech, open elections – ideas that if spread and acted upon would throw the regime and possibly the entire state into turmoil.

Is it any wonder that such men have counter-radicalisation policies of their own? And that they appear to be based on similar fears of a contagion effect, malign foreign influences, on-the-ground experience, etc.?
 
One hopes that the Turkmen students will eventually find a way to get their stamps and begin their studies – and, perhaps, get a glimpse of the political freedoms they can only dream of now.

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 The violence in Urumqi earlier this month continues to reverberate in the region. As shown in this compelling Guardian video report more details about the riots have become clear, but the effects of the violence on inter-ethnic relations in Xinjiang and other parts of Central Asia going forward are not yet known.

Already this week, however, we have seen a remarkable development in Kazakhstan: thousands of Uighurs were allowed to march in Almaty and protest Chinese policies in Xinjiang. Kazakhstan is home to several hundred thousand Uighurs, who have complained in the past of discrimination and ill treatment (such as the forcible return of refugees); this week's protest marked the first time they were allowed to hold a mass demonstration.

This was probably a smart move on the part of the Kazakh regime. While national and inter-ethnic unity play a large part in Nazarbayev's rhetoric and public campaigns, and there is a clear desire not to antagonise China (which is not only a powerful neighbour but a significant investor), the risk that the demonstration would inflame the Uighur population in Kazakhstan was probably outweighed by the possibility that not allowing any sort of public protest against China would further antagonise Kazakh Uighurs against their own government.

(UNHCR and Minority Rights Group offer a brief note on Kazakh Uighurs here.)

Another interesting development comes courtesy of Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), which released a statement threatening to attack Chinese workers in Africa (of which there are tens of thousands) in retaliation for Uighur deaths in Xinjiang. It is apparently the first time that any AQ outfit has explicitly threatened Chinese interests.

If such threats were to become a trend, and acted upon, China's vulnerability could be significant given its extensive web of foreign economic activities. At the moment China operates relatively freely in areas that are difficult for the US and European states (Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sudan) and it has exploited this strategic advantage to a great degree. It is doubtful that China would let its Xinjiang policies be dictated by the threat of terrorism abroad, but such developments could limit its freedom of operation in some countries and level the playing field a bit.

Meanwhile, leading Uighur groups have denounced the AQIM statement. Rebiya Kadeer, perhaps the most prominent Uighur exile activist, said 'Global terrorists should not take advantage of the Uyghur people’s legitimate aspirations and the current tragedy in East Turkestan to commit acts of terrorism targeting Chinese diplomatic missions or civilians'. Terrorism analysts generally have not found serious links between AQ and Uighur separatist groups.

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Kyrgyzstan will hold a presidential election on 23 July, with incumbent Kurmanbek Bakiev facing a field of six challengers, among whom the strongest appears to be Almazbek Atambaev (leader of the Social Democratic Party, the only opposition party in parliament).

Since coming to power in 2005, the Bakiev regime has presided over what appears to be a growing convergence between politicians and criminal actors. Five MPs and a number of other political figures, many with alleged ties to organised crime, have been assassinated in the past four years. Official corruption is endemic.

At the same time, religious and social movements such as Hizb-ut-Tahrir have been flourishing despite official bans, and there is deep concern over political, economic, ethnic and religious tensions between the northern and southern parts of the country.

Recent developments have also given credence to the fear that militants fleeing Pakistan and Afghanistan will relocate to southern Kyrgyzstan.

I thought I’d point to some online sources for anyone wanting to read up on Kyrgyzstan in the run-up to the election.

1. Transitions Online discusses the recent designation of Kyrgyzstan as a 'consolidated authoritarian regime' by Freedom House. A concise summary demonstrates why the 'Tulip Revolution' was not revolutionary in any meaningful way.

2. For a longer analysis, an International Crisis Group report highlights the failings of the Bakiyev regime and the complex set of problems afflicting the country.

3. The Institute for War & Peace Reporting is a great resource for tracking events in Kyrgyzstan (and the rest of Central Asia). They recently provided a good run-down of the election candidates and reportage on the presence of militants in southern Kyrgyzstan. They state:
'The suspicion among analysts is that the militants now in Kyrgyzstan are of Central Asian origin but have recently moved back from Afghanistan or Pakistan… In June, following reports that an armed group had appeared in the mountains of Tajikistan (see Chasing Phantoms in the Tajik Mountains, RCA No. 581, 24-Jun-09), Jakypbek Azizov, who heads the Kyrgyz interior ministry's public security department, told a press conference that elite units from the ministry had been sent into Batken region as a result of developments in Afghanistan and the possibility that militants had infiltrated Kyrgyzstan's immediate neighbours. Batken is a strip of land in the far southwest of Kyrgyzstan, sandwiched between Tajik and Uzbek territory, and was the scene of IMU incursions in past years.'
4. For an interesting take on events in Kyrgyzstan, including the election and political scene, check out the blog of analyst Tolkun Umaraliev. Recently, he also highlighted Kadyr Malikov's warnings about militancy and extremism in the country. Umaraliev opines that Hizb-ut-Tahrir members 'believe that state-appointed mufti and imams have betrayed Islam and taken the side of jahil government. In case militants from Pakistan and Afghanistan intrude into southern Kyrgyzstan, there is a high possibility that HT will join them'.

5. Anyone interested in the political aspects of national/regional/ethnic identities might want to look at a CACI paper by Erica Marat (pdf) from January 2008. A relevant excerpt:

‘Instead of generating nation-wide campaigns on ideological concepts, Bakiyev sought to emphasize the intensification of divisions between northern and southern political elites. The idea of such a
regional divide between elites that emphasizes the unequal distribution of power among northern and southern groups turned into a primary definition of today’s interpretation of the Kyrgyz nation. Bakiyev used such arguments of national division in order to legitimize his hold on power despite low public support and widespread corruption.’

6. Another valuable CACI paper analyses Islamic radical movements in Central Asia, including HT. You might also check out a More 4 report on HT in Kyrgyzstan, which perhaps unsurprisingly has been posted on the international HT media website.

7. The latest on bases in Kyrgyzstan – where the Russians are now endeavoring to open a CSTO base, with the US staying at Manas – comes via EurasiaNet.

8. ReliefWeb provides a wealth of information on the substantial humanitarian and development problems in Kyrgyzstan.

9. Finally, the leading websites for Central Asian news will no doubt be covering the election in detail over the next week or so. In addition to EurasiaNet and IWPR, check out RFE/RL and New Eurasia.

Photo caption: UNDP-Kyrgyzstan, 2005 Elections

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In some ways, the Central Asian states fit awkwardly into discussions of radicalisation and political violence. Their generally repressive regimes limit opportunities for expression and mobilisation. Their Soviet past requires a distinct approach to the development of political Islam and radical Islamist movements in the region. With the exception of Tajikistan, they have not experienced sustained conflict in decades.

The Central Asian states also lag far behind worldwide standards for Internet usage and penetration rates. The reasons are several: a lack of economic and technological development generally; high levels of poverty among many populations; vast and sometimes inaccessible spaces; and regime censorship and control.

This lack of Internet access impacts people and economies in a number of ways, but perhaps most relevant for the readers of this blog are the implications for efforts at online radicalisation and mobilisation. Online radicalisation is an important subject for ICSR; but does the discussion have any relevance for Central Asia?

Let’s look at Central Asian Internet rates, courtesy of Internet World Stats. Keep in mind that the worldwide average for Internet penetration is 23.8 per cent, while the averages for North America and Europe are 74.4 and 48.9 respectively.

Kazakhstan     12.4%
Kyrgyzstan      14.0%
Tajikistan        6.7%
Turkmenistan  1.4%
Uzbekistan      8.8%

Now, statistics alone cannot convey a true sense of how the Internet is accessed and used in Central Asia, or whether extremist groups and individuals are making good use of it. After all, one Internet user can print out a bunch of radical literature and then distribute it in more traditional ways. Extremist leaders can read effective rhetoric and use it in their recruitment efforts; militants can access technical information to support their campaigns of violence. In short, a small amount of Internet exposure can have exponential effects.

Still, it is worth remembering the limits of Internet access in the region when evaluating the counterterrorism and counterinsurgency literature. Methods of radical recruitment that have no online component whatsoever still need to be confronted. (An example from another region: Yemen, which became one of the leading sources of foreign fighters in Iraq, has an Internet penetration rate of 1.4 per cent).

To the extent that the West is trying to globally discredit extremist ideologies, it is important to remember that this involves more than just coming up with effective ways to disrupt online radicalisation.

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The excellent neweurasia website recently directed readers to a rare look at life inside Turkmenistan: a short video by Simon Ostrovsky, a freelance journalist working for the Norwegian Helsinki Committee.

The video details the ongoing repression in the country under President Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov, who succeeded the famous 'Turkmenbashi' (Saparmurad Niazov) shortly after his death in December 2006.

Hundreds of political prisoners lie in jails beyond the reach of international monitors; there is no press freedom or unauthorised political activity; movement within and outside the country is severely restricted.

Turkmenistan regularly shows up on 'worst' lists, including the Corruption Perceptions Index, the Freedom in the World Report , and most recently the 'Worst Places to be a Blogger' roll call . It also lies across a major drug trafficking route from Afghanistan, and reports indicate staggering numbers of drug addicts are undocumented within the country.

One thing has changed somewhat under Berdymukhamedov: he has proven more open to foreign investment in Turkmenistan's vast natural gas reserves. But interviews in the video indicate that this has had an unfortunate effect on the country’s small and beleaguered activist movement:

"Unfortunately, there is this illusion that everything is just fine here, and as a result international organisations and representatives of other countries only see what they want to: the superficial changes that are taking place. But they don't see that very little is changing in reality. We are hostages to the gas; it is sacred. Economic interests are deemed more important than people's basic rights."

Another activist states:

"We used to get invited to the American Embassy and European embassies. But now they pretend like we don't exist. They know they won't get gas contracts if they associate with us."

It is a common complaint in Central Asia: repressive and corrupt regimes escape without serious Western condemnation because of economic or strategic considerations. In the Caspian region there is oil and gas to consider; farther east, one must think of supply routes to Afghanistan.

Central Asian regimes have also exploited politically the potential for terrorism and extremism in the region, and more or less skilfully played on Western concerns about Russian or Chinese dominance in the area.

There is a dynamic similar to that in other parts of the world: the sense that as imperfect as these regimes may be, turning around and openly criticising them might jeopardise Western interests while not actually improving conditions within the countries. (In Central Asia we have the example of Uzbekistan evicting the US from the K2 base after American criticism of the Andijan massacre.)

As we have seen, however, Western support for non-democratic regimes may contribute to the appeal of radical alternative social and religious movements (at the very least, it helps sharpen their rhetoric of exclusivity).

It’s important to remember the range of political and economic conditions in Central Asia. Kyrgyzstan, for example, has a burgeoning civil society that Turkmen and Uzbeks could only dream of. Parts of Kazakhstan are developed to an extent unthinkable in most of Tajikistan. But each state does suffer from autocratic and dysfunctional leadership, and there is not much cause for optimism that things will change in the near future.

In Turkmenistan, at least, there is also little chance that opposition activists will be able to mobilise and have any significant impact on conditions within the country: the regime’s level of control is simply too high. Factors that facilitate radicalisation and violence usually find unfertile soil in such longstanding authoritarian regimes.

In this sense, we may not visit Turkmenistan that often within this blog, but it is important not to forget the extreme hardships its citizens suffer, and keep an eye out for any possible changes in the current situation.

An intriguing gallery of photos of Turkmenistan can be found here.
Photo above: Independence Park, Ashgabat (OSCE/Anne Suotula)

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Between 1992 and 1997, tens of thousands of Tajiks died in the brutal civil war that followed independence. Often referred to as Central Asia's 'dirty war', it featured mass civilian casualties and refugee flows, marauding criminal gangs and foreign jihadists, and the devastation of the fledgling nation's economy and infrastructure. Probably, you have never heard of it.

The international media was a bit preoccupied at the time, what with conflict in Bosnia, Rwanda and Somalia to deal with.

The war officially ended with the signing of peace accords in 1997, which did generate some attention as it allowed the Islamic Renewal Party to join the government (to date, the IRP remains the only Islamist political party to operate legally in Central Asia, although its political power has waned substantially).

Much has been made of these successful peace negotiations but it's important to note that they did not bring enduring safety or stability for the nation as a whole. Indeed, barely one year afterward, a small-scale rebellion had to be crushed in northern Tajikistan; the IMU and other militants have traversed and settled in Tajik territory over the years; organised crime and narco-trafficking spawn associated violence; and politically motivated murders and kidnappings have continued since the war.

Civil war research is notoriously factious but Paul Collier, for one, estimates that only about half the countries that experience civil war are able to make it through the following decade without falling back into open conflict. In this context, Tajikistan has been lucky. There are a number of contributing factors – political repression, 'conflict fatigue', international engagement – but perhaps the most compelling variable is the massive level of labour migration to Russia and other countries, which has removed from Tajikistan the demographic most likely to spur and sustain political violence.

With the global financial crisis hitting the industries that employ these migrants, how likely is it that violence, radicalisation and instability could increase significantly within Tajikistan?

Official estimates are that 800,000 Tajiks (mostly men in their twenties and thirties) left the country last year to find work; this figure happens to match the country's immigration quota for Russia, however, and international organisations estimate the true number to be more than 1 million. This amounts to nearly half the country's workforce.

Tajikistan's political and economic survival largely depends on the remittances sent home by labour migrants. The IMF estimates that remittances constitute 54 per cent of the country's GDP, the highest percentage in the world in 2008 (and this does not even capture the full scope of informal money transfers).

According to the International Crisis Group , 'Most specialists believe that migrant money has in recent years provided for the basic needs of 40 to 60 per cent of the population, though some economists put the figure even higher. Given the minimal amount budgeted for items such as health and education, this amounts to a migrant-funded welfare system'.

Tajik labour migrants have been concentrated in the Russian construction industry. Now, however, that sector has collapsed due to the economic crisis. The safety valve that benefited so many Tajiks – ordinary citizens as well as the ruling regime – is being dramatically downsized.

Jobs are scarce and the Russian government intends to reduce the number of incoming migrant workers. Xenophobic attacks on Central Asians have increased.

This leaves a large cohort of young, unemployed, poor and frustrated men in Tajikistan until the global economy revives. The loss of remittances means a sharp rise in poverty, malnutrition and disease – this in a country that already goes without electricity and heat for much of the winter, suffers from plagues of locusts, and already has an official unemployment rate of 48 per cent and poverty rate of 53 per cent.

Hope and optimism are in short supply: President Rakhmon is entering his seventeenth year in power without having sufficiently invested in the country; corruption is rife; narco-trafficking and drug addiction plague the population; infrastructure and agriculture are crumbling.

Given these desperate conditions, how likely is it that violence and conflict might erupt again in Tajikistan? Listening to the experts, the verdict is mixed: some say the lingering memories of the horrors of war continue to suppress violent tendencies; others say these memories are fading and will not contain conflict for much longer. Some say the regime will be able to continue to restrain potential opposition while others say Rakhmon is on his last legs.

While it is clear that Tajiks are enduring terrible conditions, poverty and hardship alone do not inexorably lead to political violence. There is no consensus on whether the key variables that might spark conflict will emerge in the country or not.

But secondly, how likely is it that these conditions will increase the appeal of radical movements inside Tajikistan? This is a very difficult question given government repression of such groups and a lack of available data on their activities.

It is clear that the Tajik regime is increasingly cracking down on religious groups of all kinds; for instance, Salafism was declared illegal in January of this year. However, as it is the regime does not have firm control over all parts of the country; should it begin to fall apart, or should domestic conditions deteriorate to the point of chaos, it would not be surprising to see the emergence of religiously or ideologically motivated opposition groups.

This is a tricky question and I'd like to return to it in a future post.

Bottom line: Why should you care about Tajikistan? Well, beyond the obvious humanitarian imperatives, the US and NATO are increasingly relying on the 'Northern Supply Route' to support operations in Afghanistan. Serious instability and violence in Tajikistan may spill over into Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan.

The mostly unguarded Tajik-Afghan border facilitates the transnational opium and arms trade. At the rate things are going, Tajikistan is looking less like a bulwark against the violence and extremism in Afghanistan, and more like a potential part of that problem.

Tajikistan's problems will not be solved by quick fixes or one-off injections of foreign aid. But emergency measures are required in this case if the effects of reduced labour migration are to be managed and the potential for instability and violence forestalled.

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Brazilian football wonder-coach Luiz Felipe Scolari had a rough time of it here in London: heralded upon his arrival at Chelsea last summer, he was unceremoniously sacked in February after a woeful series of matches saw the team slip to fourth.

Yet something tells me he may one day gaze wistfully upon his brief time in the UK, given he is now headed to Central Asian powerhouse team Bunyodkor, in Tashkent. (If he thought working for a Siberian oligarch was rough, how will he fare under the purported influence of President Karimov’s daughter?)

But there’s another reason the Obelix doppelganger may live to regret the move: things may be hotting up in the Ferghana Valley. True, sometimes it seems as if things are always hotting up in Ferghana. The area, awkwardly divided in the Soviet era, straddles Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan and is a critical region for each state.

Uzbekistan’s three Ferghana provinces, comprising only 4 per cent of its territory, nevertheless contain the following: 25 per cent of its population; half of its ten largest cities; 25 per cent of its agricultural output; and the source of its largest oil reserves and most of its water.

Kyrgyzstan’s two Ferghana provinces hold 51 per cent of its population and 40 per cent of its territory. Tajikistan would barely exist as a state without its Ferghana province of Sughd, which produces two-thirds of its GDP.

Fertile, densely populated, ethnically diverse and religiously conservative, the Ferghana region has seen its share of political violence in the past twenty years. Some of it has been interethnic: in 1990 hundreds of Uzbeks and Kyrgyz were killed in riots in Osh. Some of it has taken the form of transnational terrorism: the founders of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) began mobilising supporters there in the early 1990s (the fearsome military commander of the IMU, Juma Namangani, took his nom de guerre from the Ferghana city of Namangan).

There has also been domestic political violence, as when Uzbek security forces killed hundreds of protesters in Andijan in 2005.

In short, the words 'Ferghana Valley' and 'powder keg' are often uttered in the same breath. And yet despite a sort of consistent simmer, things have never really kicked off in the region on a large scale. New reports of tension in the area should always be approached cautiously. Nevertheless, recent events are causing some concern and are worth highlighting.

On 26 May a suicide bomb and armed attack were carried out in Andijan and Khanabad (a small Uzbek town on the Kyrgyz border). Official blame was laid upon IMU militants crossing over from Kyrgyzstan; while the IMU were widely acknowledged to have been wiped out alongside their Taliban allies in Afghanistan in 2001, some claim the group has reformed in recent years. (Central Asian regimes are particularly fond of advancing this claim, as the IMU were a potent yet highly unpopular adversary during their strongest period.)

The group that claimed responsibility, however, was the Islamic Jihad Union, a purported offshoot of the IMU. But this may not actually be true either: the attacks could have been the work of criminal outfits or state security services. In Central Asia, attribution is a bit of a parlour game.

Following the attack, the Uzbek-Kyrgyz border was temporarily closed and a handful of minor incidents occurred (allowing one lucky headline writer to come up with this gem: 'Uzbek, Kyrgyz Border Guards Capture Each Other' ).   More worrying at the moment, however, are reports that Uzbek authorities are digging trenches – and thus delimiting a border – in areas disputed by Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan since 1991.

Local violence is one thing; unilateral border declarations may escalate tensions to the national level. The usual hopes that things will calm down are slightly attenuated by the presence of political uncertainty in both capitals and severe economic crisis in the region – two conditions that can exacerbate both local radicalisation and interstate relations.

So, something to keep an eye on. Scolari's future career, on the other hand, is probably best left unexamined.

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