Kazakhstan and Russia’s neo-imperialism
First published at Posle.
Commentators and scholars often describe Kazakhstan’s position vis-à-vis Russia in overly rigid terms, either as completely subordinate or entirely independent. The truth lies somewhere in between. Although Kazakhstan’s authorities must take Moscow’s line into account due to deep infrastructural and energy dependence, they have nevertheless sought to pursue their own interests, partly in response to pressure from below. However, following the mass protests of January 2022 and the onset of the war in Ukraine, the ruling class in Kazakhstan has seen its room for maneuver drastically reduced.
It was not always this way. In the 2000s, despite the political kinship between former President of Kazakhstan Nursultan Nazarbayev and first Boris Yeltsin, then Vladimir Putin, Kazakhstan largely succeeded in holding back the expansion of Russian business interests.
Although Russian firms have long outnumbered all other foreign companies operating in Kazakhstan, Russia ranks only third in terms of total investment there, behind the United States and the Netherlands. In the early years of independence, transnational corporations arrived to develop the country’s major oil fields and the necessary commercial infrastructure, creating serious competition for Russian enterprises. Although Russian capital maintained a presence across key sectors of Kazakhstan’s economy — from finance to oil — it never achieved outright dominance.
Through a policy known as “multi-vector diplomacy,” Nazarbayev sought to prevent any single great power from exerting excessive influence. The idea was to maintain close ties with the world’s leading states while also keeping a distance, using a web of diversified economic partnerships to balance the interests of both regional and global powers. Following the 2008 financial crisis, significant portions of the economy gradually fell under the control of Kazakhstani elites or the state itself.
It is worth noting that the Kazakhstan and Russian elites are still closely linked, both culturally — through shared Soviet-era experiences, education, and a common language — and economically, through assets held in Russia, joint ventures, and regular intergovernmental contact. Kazakhstani officials have often copied the programs and legislation of their Russian counterparts, particularly with regard to repressive governance. Yet despite these close ties, the prospect of political integration between the two countries has never been seriously discussed.
Since gaining independence, Kazakhstan has failed to limit the flow of Russian imports. Since the 2000s, Russia has remained the country’s largest trading partner, supplying 30-40% of Kazakhstan’s food and manufactured goods. In order to preserve these trade volumes, which had been gradually shrinking throughout the 2010s, the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) was established.
From the outset, the EAEU has offered Kazakhstan fewer advantages than it has offered to Belarus or Kyrgyzstan. This is due to the size and nature of the Russian market, which is the largest within the bloc but remains relatively closed to Kazakhstani goods. Export data clearly illustrates this: Russia accounts for less than 10% of Kazakhstan’s total exports. Moscow, for its part, has little incentive to change this situation, as doing so would endanger its own producers, who already have limited access to other markets.
Despite the establishment of the EAEU, Kazakhstan has succeeded in maintaining its political sovereignty. Nazarbayev, an early proponent of Eurasian integration after the collapse of the Soviet Union, has consistently opposed proposals for a shared parliament, common citizenship, or a unified currency. As a result, Kazakhstan’s dependence on Russia remains primarily infrastructural.
This dependency is most acute in the oil sector, which is vital to the Kazakh economy and accounts for almost half of the state’s budget revenues. Around 98% of Kazakhstan’s oil exports are transported via pipelines that cross Russian territory. This system originated in the late Soviet era and has since expanded, giving Moscow a powerful instrument of political leverage.
In addition, Kazakhstan heavily relies on Russian refineries in Omsk and Orenburg to process its crude oil into fuel for domestic use. These supplies prevent acute shortages, as Kazakhstan’s three refineries cannot meet national demand on their own.
This network of dependencies provides the Kremlin with ample opportunity to manipulate the situation politically should Kazakhstan deviate from Moscow’s course or resist compromise. If it chose to do so, Russia could obstruct oil exports, limit access to refining facilities, block the import of Kazakhstani goods, or suspend food deliveries. Any of these steps would trigger at least a short-term crisis in Kazakhstan, one that would require significant resources to overcome.
The contraction of sovereignty
Since Kassym-Jomart Tokayev became president, there has been a noticeable narrowing of the distance between Kazakhstan and Russia. Back in 2020, the Kremlin had already shifted to a more assertive strategy to reshape Kazakhstan’s e-government system and almost succeeded in securing Sberbank as its key developer. However, a sharply negative reaction from the Kazakh public, coupled with Western sanctions against Russia, forced both sides to abandon the plan.
Another attempt to expand Russian influence came in the form of renewed discussions around building a nuclear power plant, with Rosatom emerging as the almost certain choice for the main contractor. However, the final decision on the project was not made until 2025.
The turning point in relations between the two regimes came when Kazakhstan’s elite turned to Vladimir Putin for help with the transfer of power from Nursultan Nazarbayev to Tokayev. The original arrangement between the two presidents envisioned Tokayev as a nominal leader while Nazarbayev would retain real control. To secure this arrangement, Nazarbayev took the post of Chairman of the Security Council, which at that time formally oversaw the heads of Kazakhstan’s security agencies — and informally, many executive officials as well.
However, Tokayev soon began asserting his authority and establishing an independent bureaucratic apparatus. Throughout 2021, both leaders made several trips to Moscow in an attempt to negotiate a balance of power. However, these consultations ended without resolution.
The events of January 2022 began as a clash between two elite factions in western Kazakhstan but quickly escalated following a wave of mass strikes and civic mobilization in several major cities, culminating in armed confrontations with the police in Almaty. After consulting Putin, Tokayev requested the deployment of Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) peacekeeping forces to quell the unrest. As the majority of these troops were Russian, many Kazakh citizens viewed the intervention as an “imperial intrusion” by the former metropolis.
Armed clashes subsided within days of the peacekeepers’ arrival. However, in months that followed, Tokayev repeatedly had to repay Putin for his willingness to secure the Kazakh president’s political survival. This was probably the key condition for Tokayev’s continued hold on power — one that Putin accepted despite his long and cordial relationship with Nazarbayev. Without Russian support, Nazarbayev’s entourage could have easily unseated Tokayev and reclaimed control.
At that moment, few within the elite were in a position to act decisively: the unrest had left rival factions disoriented, scrambling to decide which side to support in order to preserve their privileges.
Proximity by compulsion
Following the introduction of Western sanctions and the sharp deterioration in Russia’s relations with the West, Vladimir Putin has demanded ever greater displays of loyalty from Central Asian leaders — a demand that carries the constant threat of secondary sanctions. As none of Russia’s opponents have yet offered Kazakhstan any tangible incentives to change its foreign policy, the government in Astana continues to cooperate closely with Moscow. Nevertheless, despite the geopolitical pressure and Tokayev’s personal debt to Putin, the Kazakh president did not abandon his attempts to demonstrate independence after the start of the war in Ukraine.
In the early months of the invasion, Tokayev did not prevent citizens in major cities from organizing humanitarian aid for Ukrainians. The authorities also refrained from dispersing an anti-war rally in Almaty, which attracted at least 2,000 people — an impressive turnout for a city still traumatized by the violent clashes of early 2022. Tokayev himself repeatedly called for a peaceful settlement of the conflict and, on several occasions, made statements that irritated the Kremlin. His most notable statement came at the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum, where he publicly declared that “Kazakhstan does not recognize the quasi-state territories of the DPR and LPR.”
However, this brief period of political liberalism did not last long. Russian politicians and media figures soon revived old narratives, labelling Kazakhstan an “artificial state.” At the same time, the country became a major hub for sanctions evasion and parallel imports of Western goods, both civilian and military. Before long, Moscow launched yet another wave of economic expansion into the Kazakh market.
Russia’s growing presence was visible both in the increase in the number of Russian-registered companies and in its acquisition of stakes in Kazakhstan’s strategic assets. Between 2021 and 2024, the number of firms with Russian capital increased by 138%, reaching nearly 19,000 and accounting for 42% of all foreign enterprises registered in Kazakhstan. Among these were major players like InDriver, Yandex, and Playrix, as well as smaller firms involved in parallel imports that later came under Western sanctions. The influx of Russian businesses even triggered a boom in Kazakhstan’s commercial real estate market, with companies rushing to buy or build office and warehouse space.
The energy sector was of particular strategic importance. In 2023, Rosatom acquired stakes in several of the country’s largest uranium deposits, though it resold them to Chinese firms later, in 2024. This gave Rosatom control of around a quarter of Kazakhstan’s uranium production. Other Russian companies, such as Inter RAO, reached agreements to build three coal-fired power plants. This was a deeply unpopular move among Kazakh citizens concerned about worsening air quality. Even greater public discontent erupted over the decision to build a nuclear power plant with Rosatom as the main contractor. In an attempt to legitimize the project, local authorities announced plans for a referendum, while outspoken critics faced criminal prosecution.
These were among the key issues discussed during Tokayev’s frequent official and informal meetings with Putin — the sheer number of which is itself a testament to Russia’s growing influence. Since 2022, the two presidents have held regular phone calls and in-person meetings, sometimes several times a month.
Russia’s negotiating “virtuosity” lies in its ability to entice Kazakhstan with favorable financing during the early stages of projects such as power plants, only to later pass the financial burden onto Kazakhstan’s state budget. A similar pattern may yet unfold with the nuclear project, the contract terms of which remain undisclosed. However, Kazakh officials would likely not have agreed to such deals if they did not personally benefit from them.
Nevertheless, the expansion was not entirely linear. Russia persuaded Kazakhstan’s authorities to buy out Sberbank’s local subsidiary, and later sold them a portion of shares in the Eurasian Development Bank, the main financial institution of the Eurasian Economic Union. By 2024, some Russian firms had even begun to return to domestic jurisdiction, either because they had learned to operate more effectively under sanctions or because they had failed to adapt to Kazakhstan’s institutional environment.
In economic terms, Kazakhstan has enjoyed short-term benefits from this arrangement through parallel imports and the relocation of Russian businesses. Russian investment in Kazakhstan reached a record $4 billion in 2024. However, despite trade between the two countries growing by $4 billion during the war to reach $28 billion, it remains structurally imbalanced in Russia’s favour.
The current economic relationship is based on a clear logic: Russia first rewards Kazakhstan’s elites, then extracts resources in return. However, Moscow does not offer a coherent strategy for mutually beneficial and equitable development — one that could enrich both nations’ societies rather than merely enriching their political and business circles.
Uncertain resistance
Tokayev’s debt to Putin may seem immeasurable. The Russian leader has at times managed to secure astonishing concessions for his elites, such as selling Kazakhstan electricity at a tariff four times the market rate when it was in desperate need of it, or persuading Astana to purchase more Russian gas, thus undermining the prospects of domestic production. To further ingratiate itself with the Kremlin, Kazakhstan has introduced a draft law on “foreign agents” and is already considering how to refine it.
At the same time, Tokayev recognizes the limitations of aligning with Russia. He cannot simply ignore the discontent of Kazakh citizens, which stems from the questionable legitimacy of his presidency. His 2019 election was marred by continuous protests and widespread irregularities, with many viewing him as merely Nazarbayev’s handpicked successor. The demonstrations in January 2020 went further, demanding the dismantling of the entire political order. Moreover, Tokayev has continued his predecessor’s discredited political course, maintaining the oligarchic system and deep social inequality that characterized Nazarbayev’s rule.
Fearing renewed social mobilization, Tokayev hastily organized a constitutional referendum, followed by early presidential and parliamentary elections. However, the registration of new political parties and the emergence of new political figures were stifled from the outset.
Meanwhile, the state continues to lash out against civil society with periodic waves of repression. This dynamic is only reinforced by global trends: the election of Donald Trump in the United States and the shift to the right in European politics have changed priorities. When meeting with Kazakhstan’s president, Western leaders now show little interest in human rights or democratic reform.
Despite the government’s ongoing crackdown on grassroots activism, Tokayev has been forced to make limited concessions to the public. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, many Kazakhstani people have viewed Moscow with deep suspicion, seeing it as both a political threat and an economic burden. This view is increasingly shared by segments of the country’s own elite.
Against this backdrop, Tokayev’s occasional gestures toward liberalization and his tolerance of anti-colonial rhetoric unfold within a broader conversation about “decolonization,” a debate that the authorities have so far chosen not to suppress.
The decolonial discourse in Kazakhstan has primarily developed within cultural communities and academic circles in the two largest cities, Almaty and Astana. Since Kazakhstan’s independence, contemporary art has become the main platform for decolonial discourses, serving as the arena for social critique amid censorship in academia and the public sphere. However, the main theorists and intellectual architects of this discourse are researchers based in European and American universities. In constant dialogue with cultural institutions and art communities in Kazakhstan, these researchers launch collaborative educational and artistic projects that help to sustain the debate.
In Kazakhstan, the decolonial conversation tends to adopt an anti-Russian stance while largely avoiding the broader issue of neocolonialism. The imperial logic embedded in Western capitalism — the foundation of today’s global order — is rarely questioned. Few view capitalism as the root cause of social inequality. On the contrary, many in this intellectual milieu see it as a necessary vehicle for Kazakhstan to enter the “upper league” of modernized states modeled on the West. As a result, culture and language have become the primary battlegrounds of decolonial resistance.
However, the questions raised by decolonization are far from trivial. They delve into the depths of the country’s collective memory, touching on some of the darkest chapters of Soviet modernization and policy. The Russian Empire’s treatment of the nomadic peoples of the steppe, the arbitrary drawing of borders during the creation of socialist republics, and Stalin’s disastrous collectivization policies all contributed to a catastrophic famine in the early 1930s, killing more than a million people.
Over the following decades, Kazakhstan became a testing ground for a variety of Soviet experiments, including mass deportations, forced labor camps, nuclear weapons testing, and the ecological disaster of the Aral Sea, which was drained to serve the cotton industry.
Another issue to add to this list is the systemic ethnic discrimination that was typical of the Soviet Union. One of the most notorious examples occurred in 1986 when Moscow appointed Gennady Kolbin, an outsider with no connection to the republic, as the First Secretary of Kazakhstan’s Communist Party. The decision, presented as a fait accompli, sparked widespread protests that were brutally suppressed. Thousands were detained, and around a hundred received prison sentences. Kolbin’s administration justified the crackdown as a fight against “nationalism,” thereby silencing what were, in essence, democratic demands.
Yet the methods proposed by Kazakhstan’s decolonial thinkers to overcome imperial legacies are unlikely to free the country from structural oppression.
Simply put, their strategy involves elevating the Kazakh language and culture to hegemonic status in order to transform all existing identities into a fundamentally new national form. They argue that this unification will dissolve all inequalities, including class divisions. They believe that a shared cultural and linguistic foundation will naturally yield a more democratic political system, similar to those in advanced Western democracies.
Paradoxically, Kazakhstan’s decolonial discourse diverges sharply from the theoretical debates in the Global South. It largely rejects the core task of postcolonial thought, which is to transcend the ontology of Western modernity and its institutions of capitalism and the nation-state. Instead, Kazakh intellectuals are calling for a return to the past and a reexamination of the self beyond Soviet and Russian colonial narratives, only to reassemble that self through Western modernist frameworks, in pursuit of recognition as a “full-fledged” nation-state on the global stage.
Equally troubling is that this movement offers no clear strategies to tackle the social and economic inequality that fueled the 2022 protests. On the contrary, cultural fragmentation could exacerbate these divisions. It may give rise to a dominant group that embodies the “gold standard” of national identity, claiming the right to monopolize political and economic resources, thereby reproducing the same inequalities that define the current authoritarian order.
Tokayev allows the decolonial debate to flourish for two reasons. Firstly, it provides a semblance of legitimacy amid his ongoing crisis of authority: the mere ability to criticize Russia helps deflect public anger over his own concessions to the Kremlin. Secondly, it provides a means of political mobilization in the event of new unrest. By perpetuating the narrative of colonial oppression, the regime can divert popular resentment away from local power structures and towards Moscow.
A new course needed
Yet uniting society remains nearly impossible for one simple reason: repression. The legitimacy deficit facing Tokayev has prompted Kazakhstan’s leadership to prohibit virtually all forms of collective protest. Local authorities rarely authorize peaceful and legal demonstrations, while unauthorized ones are swiftly dispersed by the police. The only mass events tolerated today are those orchestrated by state political technologists.
The labor movement occupies a particularly vulnerable position. Trade unions fight their own local battles, but neither have the means nor see the need to coordinate their efforts or articulate shared demands. This fragmentation was glaringly evident during the January 2022 protests, when striking oil workers in western Kazakhstan and miners in the country’s central regions failed to show solidarity with each other. Such disunity is the legacy of the brutal suppression of labor organization following the 2011 Zhanaozen protests, as well as of earlier attempts by Nazarbayev in the 1990s to divide the working class ahead of major privatizations.
The absence of an organized grassroots movement capable of exerting pressure from below has not only led to the degeneration of Kazakhstan’s political regime but also increased the likelihood of a profound economic crisis. As the developed world gradually moves away from fossil fuels, Kazakhstan risks entering this transition unprepared and divided.
The current ruling class shows no interest in, nor capacity for, offering an alternative path forward. Any far-reaching reform would threaten the existing system of rent extraction — something that neither the entrenched Nazarbayev-era oligarchs nor the new elite emerging around Tokayev are willing to tolerate. As a result, over the course of his presidency, Tokayev’s administration has failed to articulate a coherent economic vision, instead preserving the neoliberal trajectory set by his predecessor.
Moreover, as long as Putin remains in power, he will continue to serve as the guarantor of Kazakhstan’s loyal, status quo–oriented regime. In the event of large-scale unrest, Kazakh citizens may once again witness the landing of Russian troops, this time ostensibly to “restore legitimacy” to the current or a future authoritarian leader. This would only reinforce the country’s regressive drift and perpetuate Russia’s neo-imperial practices.
Against the backdrop of political stagnation, Kazakhstan urgently needs to adopt a well-conceived anti-Russian stance. This stance should be based on principled opposition to Putin’s authoritarianism and imperial ambitions, rather than on existential hostility towards Russia or its citizens. The goals of progressive and leftist movements in both countries are not mutually exclusive. The regional pyramid of authoritarian power, in which hegemonic autocracy props up its weaker counterparts, can only be dismantled collectively by proposing a new logic of socio-economic development that appeals to the wider public.
Confined within narrow national borders, both countries face limited prospects for prosperity, as the problems of each extend far beyond their own jurisdictions. Without a fundamental shift in Russia’s foreign policy, Kazakhstan will struggle to achieve meaningful economic or political progress. At the same time, Russia itself needs to revitalize its war-battered economy, a process that could be aided by reinventing the current model of regional economic integration. With its experience and potential, Kazakhstan could play a crucial role in establishing a fairer trade system and developing an industrial and technological base that serves the interests of ordinary citizens rather than ruling elites.
What is needed, therefore, is a post-Soviet internationalist project that aims to jointly formulate new political and economic programs. However, the form and substance of such an international project must be the subject of a broader and deeper discussion.
