The Caspian Region, Volume I: A Re-emerging Region

The Caspian Region Volume I A Re-emerging Region

Edited by Moshe Gammer

The Caspian Region Volume I A Re-emerging Region

Edited by Moshe Gammer

First published 2004 by Routledge 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2004.

© 2004 Moshe Gammer for selection and editorial matter; individual contributors their contribution

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. The publisher makes no representation, express or implied, with regard to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and cannot accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions that may be made. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-00511-2 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-714-65247-4 (Print Edition)

Contents

Maps

vii

Acknowledgement

viii

Preface

ix

Contributors

xiv

Abbreviations

xvii

Glossary

xx part i a new region of international importance?

1. Oil, Pipelines and Security: The Geo-politics of the Caspian Region Mustafa Aydın 2. Oil and Gas in the Economies of the Caspian Region Paul Rivlin

3

32

part ii a new round in an old game? russia, iran and turkey 3. Islam in Russian Security Concerns Flemming S. Hansen

55

4. Central Asia and Russia; Francophone Africa and France: Parallels and Differences Moshe Gammer

73

5. Dancing with Wolves: Turco-Iranian Relations in Perspective Anat Lapidot-Firilla

104

v

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

6. Iran’s Internal Azerbaijani Challenge: Implications for Policy in the Caucasus Brenda Shaffer

119

part iii birds of a feather? central asian regional concerns 7. Negotiating the Waters: Trans-Boundary Resource Management in the Aral Sea Basin Elisa A. Chait

143

8. The Region of Earthquakes in the Centre of the World: The Ethnic Problems of the New Independent States of Central Asia Yuri Kobishchanov

165

part iv between democracy and authoritarianism? the states of central asia 9. Clientelism, Corruption and Struggle for Power in Central Asia: The Case of Kyrgyzstan Vladimir (Ze’ev) Khanin

181

10. The Problem of Political Order in Contemporary Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan Paul Georg Geiss

203

11. The Mahalla in Present-Day Uzbekistan Boris Mathieu Pétric

228

Index

244

vi

Maps

1. The Caspian Region

xxv

2. The Caspian Region: Existing and Proposed Pipelines

5

3. Central Asia: Chinese Territorial Claims in the 1970s

87

4. Azerbaijan and Iran

120

5. The Sea of Aral Water Basin

145

6. Central Asia: Ethnic Division

167

7. Kyrgyzstan: Administrative Division

183

8. Kazakhstan: Administrative Division

205

9. Turkmenistan: Administrative Division

216

10. Uzbekistan: Administrative Division

vii

229

Acknowledgement

Most of the work on this volume was done during my stay at the Institute of Advanced Studies of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, in February–August 2000. I am grateful to Professor Reuven Amitai and Dr Michal Biran, the conveners of the study group, for inviting me and to both the institute and its staff – Liba Maimon, Shani Feldman, Smadar Danziger, Dalia Avieli, Anette Orelle and Avi Aleharar – for their efficient and immediate help on any matter.

viii

Preface

In the 1990s, following the dissolution of the Soviet Union, new states, most of them Muslim, emerged in Central Asia and the Caucasus. Furthermore, these new states of the southern belt of the ex-USSR soon proved to be both oil-rich and a central part in a strip of conflict and instability stretching from Central Europe to the Far East. This is strongly reminiscent of the 1950s, when a new area – the Middle East – emerged, containing a dozen or so of independent states, most of them Muslim. More importantly, being already a major source of oil for the West the new area became also a zone of conflict. In both cases a need has thus arisen for information on the new area. Indeed, there is a growing number of publications – journalistic, academic and popular alike – describing, analysing and forecasting what has increasingly been referred to as ‘the Caspian Region’. This collection, being part of that wave of publications, has two aims: • To draw attention to issues neglected so far by both scholarly and popular publications. • To re-examine some of the ‘established truths’ with regard to the states surrounding the Caspian Sea. The first question that comes to mind is the validity of the term ‘Caspian Region’. Here again some parallels can be drawn with the Middle East: • Both areas were defined out of Western geo-strategic considerations. In the case of the Middle East it is clearly reflected by its name. ‘The Caspian Region’ is a more neutral appellation. • Both were originally conceived as regions centred on a body of water. (The term ‘Middle East’ was coined in 1890 by Admiral Mahan to define the area surrounding the Persian Gulf.)1 ix

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

• Separate traditional entities were brought together in both. In the case of the Middle East these were Persia, the Arabian peninsula and the Ottoman Empire, or what remained of it by the beginning of the twentieth century. In the case of the Caspian Region these are at least Central Asia and the Caucasus. • The boundaries of both have not been clearly defined. In the case of the Middle East different definitions still exist, including different lists of countries. • Yet, in spite of all these, the term ‘Middle East’ has taken root in all the languages of the area because it reflects an entity – what its people used to call in the past Dar al-Islam (the Land of Islam). The term ‘Caspian Region’ also reflects an entity that existed until the beginning of the twentieth century – what many scholars call ‘the Turco-Iranian world’. It might, therefore, follow the Middle East and become accepted by the region’s people. The second question, connected to the first, is who should be included in this new region. While obviously it cannot be limited to the littoral states – such an absurdity would run contrary to any logic, be it geographical, economic, strategic or other – practically all experts tend to include in it only ex-Soviet areas, mainly Central Asia and the Caucasus (both inside and outside the Russian Federation; RF) and sometimes also the RF. However, does not logic demand also the inclusion of Iran? After all, it is a littoral and a regional power influencing the region. Afghanistan is in many respects – hydrologic, ethnic, and so on – part of Central Asia. Why should it not be included as well? Turkey looks, perhaps, a less obvious candidate to be part of this region but there are many reasons for its inclusion. Apart from strategic, economic and other considerations, historically Central Asia, Afghanistan, Iran, the Caucasus and Anatolia were for ten centuries parts of a distinct entity within the Islamic civilisation. The third question is the general belief that the Caspian Region will be ‘a geopolitical centre of the XXI century’.2 This is based mainly, though not exclusively, on the assumption that the region’s oil and gas reserves are of great potential importance to world economy. The fourth question is what has become by now almost an axiom – that the dissolution of the USSR has placed the area in the focus of competition (if not full-blown struggle) among regional and world powers. Indeed, there has been plenty of talk of a new ‘Great Game’ being played out in this region.3 In this context two widely accepted views in particular need re-examination. The first is that Russia has lost its dominant position in this region. This view seems to rest on the belief that the USSR collapsed as a result of the Cold War and that the RF, as its successor is therefore a x

PREFACE

defeated, weakened power. The Russian military failure in the first war in Chechnya (1994–96) seemed to many to prove this point.4 One can, however, argue convincingly that the dissolution – not collapse – of the USSR had nothing to do with the Cold War. On the contrary, the dissolution of the USSR may be seen as a tool used by Yeltsin in his power struggle with Gorbachev. The second is that Turkey and Iran are not only two regional powers struggling for influence in the ‘new’ region, but they offer diametrically opposed models for the future development of its states. Turkey is portrayed as the ‘good guy’, a Muslim country that successfully adopted the Western secular, democratic, market economyoriented model and therefore an example to be imitated by the new Muslim states of this region. Iran, on the other hand, is described as the aggressive ‘villain’ attempting to spread its ‘Islamic revolution’ to these new states. While in reality competition is but one side of the coin of Turco-Iranian relations, both deem it in their interests not to reject this description. All these questions are discussed in Parts I and II. Chapter 1 gives a general overview and analysis and touches on all five issues mentioned above. Chapter 2 discusses in depth the premises of the third question – that is, the prospects of the region’s oil and gas and their possible influence. Part II deals mainly with the fourth question – the neighbouring powers that should or should not be included in the region. Chapter 3 discusses the connection between security, foreign and internal policies in the RF, Islam being both a domestic and an external factor. Chapter 4 attempts to demonstrate by way of comparison that Russia’s dominant role in Central Asia is a crucially vital interest to both the RF and the states of Central Asia. The chapter is a slightly updated and modified version of an article published in Middle Eastern Studies.5 The two remaining chapters in this part deal with the two other powers in this triangle. Chapter 5 demonstrates that Turkey’s policy towards Iran has always been dictated by Ankara’s interests and that, contrary to the common perception, it has usually favoured cooperation rather than confrontation. Chapter 6 raises a topic usually ignored in the West, showing Tehran in a defensive position vis-à-vis the new independent states on its northern border. Far from being a threat to them, as it is usually portrayed in the West, Iran is threatened by these new neighbours, in particular by Azerbaijan. Parts III and IV deal with Central Asia. Chapter 7 raises a most important topic, seldom brought up outside a narrow circle of specialists. The growing gap between the demands of a rapidly increasing population, economic development and at best a limited amount xi

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

of available fresh water in many arid areas of the world is a critical management issue for the twenty-first century. The stability of the Central Asian states and perhaps even the very existence of a few of them depend inter alia on their ability to solve their water problems by regional cooperation with appropriate international assistance. While Chapter 7 surveys the record of this cooperation among the Central Asian states in the 1990s, Chapter 8 points at another potential cause for conflict: nationalism and ethnic friction. It surveys the national and ethnic problems of the five Central Asian states while giving them unusual interpretations. The chapter is a slightly modified translation of an article first published in Nezavisimaya Gazeta.6 A fifth question to be re-examined is that of democracy. Since Western experts and public opinion alike have seen in the dissolution of the USSR a victory of the West and Western values – the transformation to a ‘market economy’ and ‘democratisation’ – these have become almost the sole yardsticks with which to grade the rest of the world. However, even if one overcomes Western political self-interest and manipulation, how is one to define ‘democracy’, and how is one to measure it? Furthermore, is the use of a single, imported model not imposing a black-and-white, two-dimensional picture on a colourful, three-dimensional reality? Part IV tackles this issue. Chapters 9 and 10 examine the current approaches to these questions by means of a detailed analysis of case studies. The former concludes that the counterposition of ‘traditional’ and ‘modern’, of ‘democratic’ and ‘authoritarian’ or ‘despotic’ defeats the purpose of understanding non-Western societies because in reality ‘traditional’ and ‘modern’ are intertwined in a complex and intricate symbiosis. The latter argues that premature adoption of imported ‘democracy’ in states where regional and local loyalties are still strong may, in fact, hinder the state- and nation-building processes and in the end also ‘democratisation’ itself. While the above two chapters deal with ex-nomadic societies, Chapter 11 studies a settled society, which is no less divided, though along territorial rather than clan lines. It surveys and analyses the attempt of the authorities to redraw and redefine the traditional community in order to control society. NOTES 1 Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Seapower upon History, 1660–1783, 1890. 2 ‘Transcaspian – a Geopolitical Centre of the XXI Century’, Transcaspian Project, Tuesday, 5 September 2000.

xii

PREFACE 3 The ‘Great Game’ is the common designation of the Anglo-Russian competition/struggle in Asia throughout the nineteenth century, which ended officially with the 1907 Anglo-Russian agreement. 4 The most outspoken example is Anatol Lieven, Chechnya: Tombstone of Russian Power (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998). 5 Moshe Gammer, ‘Post-Soviet Central Asia and Post-Colonial Francophone Africa: Some Associations’, Middle Eastern Studies, Vol. 36, No. 2 (April 2000), pp. 126–49. 6 Iurii Kubishchanov, ‘Region zemletriasenii v tsentre mira: Etnicheskie problemy novykh nezavisimykh gosudarstv Srednei Azii’, Nezavisimaya Gazeta, 30 August 1994, p. 5.

xiii

Contributors

Dr Mustafa Aydın is Associate Professor of International Relations at the Faculty of Political Science, Ankara University, Ankara, Turkey and head of the Central Asian Affairs Department at the Center for Eurasian Strategic Studies. He is the author of Turkish Foreign Policy During the Gulf War (1998), Turkish Foreign Policy Towards the Year 2000 (1998, in Turkish), Central Asia and the Caucasus: Conflict and Security in the Post-Soviet Space (1999), New Geopolitics of Central Asia and the Caucasus: Causes of Instability and Predicament (2000), and the editor of Turkey at the Threshold of the 21st Century (1998), and Turkish Yearbook of International Relations. Elisa A. Chait is a PhD candidate in the Department of Government at the London School of Economics and Political Science. Her main research focus is the hydropolitics of the Syrdarya basin, for which she travelled extensively in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Uzbekistan in 1997 and 1998. She has served as an expert adviser to the BBC Central Asian Service for a radio series on regional water issues, and has presented several conference papers on her research. Dr Moshe Gammer is Senior Lecturer at the Department of Middle Eastern and African History at Tel Aviv University. He is the author of Muslim Resistance to the Tsar: Shamil and the Conquest of Chechnia and Daghestan (London: Frank Cass, 1994) and numerous articles and chapters on the modern and contemporary history of the Caucasus, Central Asia and the Middle East. In addition to this book he has edited Political Thought and Political History: Studies in Memory of Elie Kedourie (London: Frank Cass, 2003). Dr Paul Georg Geiss is Research Associate at the German Institute for Middle East Studies in Hamburg. He completed his PhD on xiv

CONTRIBUTORS

‘Communal Commitment and Political Order in Change. The Pretsarist and Tsarist Central Asia’ at the University of Vienna. His publications include Nationenwerdung in Mittelasien (Frankfurt, 1995) and articles on anthropology, social history and politics in Central Asia. Flemming S. Hansen teaches Russian politics and International relations at the University of Copenhagen. His research areas include Russian foreign policy, Russian Islam and Central Asian and Caucasian affairs. Dr Vladimir (Ze’ev) Khanin is Research Associate at the Cummings Center for Russian and East European Studies, Tel Aviv University, and lecturer at the Department of Political Science, Bar-Ilan University, Israel. His publications include Jewish Life in Ukraine after the Second World War: Documents on National Identity and Emigration, 1944–1987 (London: Frank Cass, 1999) and articles on African, East European, Israeli and Jewish politics and society. Dr Yuri Kobishchanov is Senior Research Associate at the Institute of African Studies of the Russian Academy of Sciences and Professor at the Superior School of Culture at the Moscow University of Culture. He is the author of a number of books and more than 360 articles. His main research focus is the history of Islamic and Christian civilizations. He is working now on the study of the ‘great feudal formation’ among the Muslims in (post)socialist Russia and Central Asia. Dr Anat Lapidot-Firilla teaches Turkish and Ottoman History at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and at Tel Aviv University. She is the editor of Decoding Turkish Foreign Policy (London: Frank Cass, forthcoming) and is currently writing a book on the American Near East Relief Mission in Anatolia. She is also working on a project on Jewish witches/healers in the Ottoman Empire. Her latest article, ‘The Memoirs of Halide Edib (1884–1964): The Public Persona and The Personal Narrative’, was published in New Perspectives on Turkey, No. 21 (Fall 1999), pp. 61–77. Boris Mathieu Pétric is a PhD candidate in anthropology at the Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales, Paris. Between October 1997 and June 1999 he was a member of the French Institute of Central Asian Studies in Tashkent. Dr Paul Rivlin is Senior Research Fellow at the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies, Tel Aviv University. He is the xv

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

author of The Dynamics of Economic Policy Making in Egypt (New York: Praeger, 1985), The Israeli Economy (Boulder: Westview, 1992) and Economic Policy and Performance in the Arab World (Boulder: Lynne Rienner, 2000). Dr Brenda Shaffer is Research Director of the Caspian Studies Program at Harvard University, and a post-doctoral fellow at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Her main research interests include political, social and security trends in the Caucasus and Central Asia, with emphasis on the Republic of Azerbaijan; the Azerbaijani minority in Iran; Ethnic politics in Iran; Russian–Iranian relations; Iranian policy in Central Asia and the Caucasus; and the Karabagh Conflict, questions of collective identity, and connections between core ethnic groups and co-ethnics abroad. She is working on a book provisionally titled Islam and the West: The Case of the Caspian.

xvi

Abbreviations

Agitprop AIOC ANAP ASBP ASSR bn b/d bcm BOTAS BP BSECZ BVO CAMECO CAOPP CAU CC CEC CENTO CIS CP CPC CPC CPSU CSCS EC ECO EEC EIA

Agitatsiia/propaganda Azerbaijan International Operating Company Anavatan Partisi (Motherland Party) Aral Sea Basin Programme Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic billion billion per day billion cubic metres Turkish pipeline consortium British Petroleum Black Sea Economic Cooperation Zone Basseinovye Vodokhoziaistvennye Ob’edineniia (River Basin Commissions) Canadian Mineral Extraction Company Central Asian Oil Pipeline Project Central Asian Union Central Committee Central Election Commission Central Treaty Organisation Commonwealth of Independent States Communist Party Confederation of the Peoples of the Caucasus Caspian Pipeline Consortium Communist Party of the Soviet Union Caspian Sea Cooperation Scheme European Community Economic Cooperation Organisation European Economic Community Energy Information Administration of the US Department of Energy xvii

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

EU FSK

European Union Federal’naia Sluzhba Kontr-Razvedki (Federal Counter-intelligence Service) FSU former Soviet Union GAMIC Güney Azerbaycan Milli I˙stiqlal Cebhesi (South Azerbaijani National Front for Independence) GDP gross domestic product GNP gross national product GUAM Georgia, the Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova GUUAM Georgia, Uzbekistan, the Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova ICAS Interstate Council for the Aral Sea ICKKU Interstate Council for Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan ICWC Interstate Commission for Water Coordination IDP Islamic Democratic Party IEA International Energy Agency IFAS International Fund for the Aral Sea IMF International Monetary Fund IRP Islamic Renaissance Party KGB Komitet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti (Committee for State Security) KNB Komitet Natsional’noi Bezopasnosti (Committee for National Security) KOMSOMOL Kommunisticheskii Soiuz Molodezhi (Young Communist League) Kyrgyzgazmunaizat National Gas Company of Kyrgyzstan m million mb/d million barrels per day NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation NEP Novaia Ekonomicheskaia Politika (New Economic Policy) NGO non-governmental organisation NKR Nagorno-Karabakh Republic NKVD Norodnyi Kommisariat Vnutrennikh Del (People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs) NSP National Salvation Party OMON Interior Ministry Special Forces OSCE Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe Oshgazmunzait State Gas Company of Osh xviii

ABBREVIATIONS

RF SIABECO SIC SDC SOCAR SSR TACIS tcf UN UNEP USAID USSR UTO WB WTO

Russian Federation transnational branch of CAMECO Scientific Information Center Sustainable Development Commission State Oil Company of Azerbaijan Soviet Socialist Republic (European Union) Technical Assistance to the Commonwealth of Independent States trillion cubic feet United Nations United Nations Environment Programme United States Agency for International Development Union of Soviet Socialist Republics United Tajik Opposition World Bank World Trade Organization

xix

Glossary

Agzybirlik (Tk. ‘concord’) – a group of Turkmen intellectuals who promoted the agenda of national revival in Ashgabad at the end of the 1980s. Ail (Kg. from Tc. awul) – village. Akim (Kg. from Ar. Hakim) – oblast governor. ‘Alim (Ar. ‘learned person’) – Muslim religious scholar. Amir (Ar. ‘commander, ruler, head’) – chairman. Aqsaqal (Tc. ‘white beard’) – head of a human group. Aq süyek (Kz. ‘white bone’) – descendants of Gengiz Khan. Archyn (Tk.) – elected head of a gengesh in Turkmenistan. Aspirant (R.) – research student in Soviet (and post-Soviet) institutions of higher education. Azat (Kz. ‘freedom’) – a Kazakh nationalistic grouping founded in April 1990. Choyhona – (Uz. from Tj. Chay-haneh) – teahouse. The centre of social life. Däp (Tk.) – customary law (as opposed to Muslim religious law). Derzhava (R. ‘strong power’) – a nationalist movement in Russia. Dhikr (Ar. ‘memory’) – Sufi ritual of the glorification of God. Duma (R. ‘Council’) – the lower house of the Russian parliament. Emir (T.) – see Amir. Etrap (Tk. from Tj.) – province. Fuskha (Ar.) – the literary language. Gengesh (Tk. ‘assembly’) – local bodies of self-government in Turkmenistan. Glasnost (R. ‘openness’) – Gorbachev’s policy of democratisation. Guberniia (R. ‘governorate’) – administrative division in Imperial (Tsarist) Russia. Guzar (Tj.) – see Mahalla. xx

GLOSSARY

Haj (Ar.) – the pilgrimage to Mecca that each Muslim has to perform if able once in his/her lifetime. Hakim (Kz. from Ar. ) – oblast governor. Hoja (Tc. and Tj. from Ar. Hawaja – ‘master’) – in Central Asia: descended of one of the first four Caliphs. Imam (Ar. leader ) – the man leading the prayer; religious and/or political leader. Jadid (Ar. ‘new’) – supporter of reformist Islam in Russia in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The term comes from the new educational method (usul-i jedid) and the new school (mekteb-i jedid) introduced by the movement. Jihad (Ar. ‘effort’) – holy war against the infidels. Contrary to a common belief in the West, it is not one of the five basic commandments of Islam and not even a personal obligation of each Muslim. Kazennye zemli (R. ‘treasury lands’) – state lands in pre-Soviet Russia Kengash (Uz.) – volunteer. Khalk maslakhaty (Tk. from Ar. ‘people’s council’) – traditionally a tribal council. At the present the supreme consultative body of Turkmenistan. Khalk Vekilleri (Tk. from Ar. ‘people’s representatives’) – the elected members of the Khalk maslakhaty representing the provinces. Khan (Tc.) – the supreme political leader of a tribal group among Eurasian tribesmen. Khokim (Uz. from Ar. Hakim) – oblast governor. Khokimyat (Uz.) – the Governor’s administration. Kïshï zhüz (Kz. ‘the junior part’) – ‘the little horde’. One of the three Kazakh tribal alliances which existed until the Russian conquest. Kizil choyhona (Uz. ‘red teahouse’) – traditional areas of socialisation that were turned by the Soviet authorities into instruments of Agitprop. Kizil Toy (Uz. ‘red feast’) – Soviet festivals that replaced the traditional ones. Kolkhoz (R. ‘collective farm’) – the main form of village community in the Soviet Union. Established during ‘collectivization,’ it was based on the collective ownership of land. Komsomol (R. ‘Lenin’s Young Communist League’) – the party organization for young people. All university students were obliged to be members. Korenizatsiia (R. ‘nativization’) – the Soviet policy of replacing Russian party and government functionaries by natives in the 1920s in the ‘Eastern periphery’ of Russia. Kotib (Uz. from Ar. Katib) – secretary. Krai (R. ‘land’) – an administrative division in Soviet and post-Soviet Russia. xxi

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

Kulak (R. ‘Fist’) – an official Soviet term in 1920s–1940s meaning the ‘petit bourgois’ village elite that had to be eliminated. Kutan (R.) – see Kazma. Madrasa (Ar. ‘place of study’) – institution of higher (religious) studies in Islam. A person who has completed his studies is acknowledged as an ‘alim. Mahalla (Ar. ‘place’) – neighbourhood. Majles (Ar. Majlis ‘council’) – the parliament in Iran. Maktab (Ar.) – traditional Islamic primary institution of education. Manap (Kg.) – title of a leader of tribes and tribal confederations in the nineteenth and at the beginning of the twentieth century, previously known as bii. Maslakhat (Uz. from Ar. Maslaha – ‘benefit’ ) – council. Maslahatchi (Uz.) – councillor. Mäzhilis (Kz. from Ar. Majlis ‘council’) – the lower house of the parliament of Kazakhstan. Medrese (Tc.) – see Madrasa Mejlis (Tk. from Ar. Majlis ‘council’) – the parliament of Turkmenistan. Mestnichestvo (R. ‘localism’) – regional influences Metod chistykh aktivov (R. ‘method of net assets’) – the method applied by the joint government – World Bank ‘State Agency for the Reorganization and Liquidation of Enterprises’ to evaluate state enterprises. Miliyi Manaviyat’ (Uz. ‘national spirituality’) – the new official ideology of Uzbekistan. Moulid (Ar. Mawlid – ‘birthday’) – celebrations on the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad and other saints. Mufti (Ar.) – interpreter of the Islamic law. In Soviet and post-Soviet Russia the head of the Spiritual Board of Muslims. Mulla (Tc. and Tj. from Ar. Mawla – ‘companion’) – Muslim religious functionary usually officiating at the level of a local mosque. Murid (Ar.) – a disciple of a Sufi sheikh. Nomenklatura (R.) The list of party members eligible to state and party positions and thus in general the social stratum of party members. Novruz (Tj. ‘new year’) – the festival at the beginning of spring. Oblast (R. ‘province) – province in Uzbekistan. Olii Majlis (Uz. from Ar. ‘Ali Majlis – ‘upper council’) – the parliament of Uzbekistan. Oqsoqol (Uz.) – see Aqsaqal. Orta zhüz (Kz. ‘the middle part’) – ‘the middle horde’. One of the three Kazakh tribal alliances, which existed until the Russian conquest. xxii

GLOSSARY

Otan (Kz. from Ar. Watan) – fatherland. Perestroika (R. ‘restructuring’) – the economic policy of Gorbachev. Plemia (R.) – tribe. Politburo (R. ‘political bureau’) – the small group of Central Committee members in charge of the day-to-day running of the USSR. Pomest’e (R. ‘estate’) – land owned privately. Pravovoe gosudarstvo (R.) – law-bound state. Priusadebnye uchastki (R.) personal plots. Qadi (Ar. ‘judge’) – a judge according to the Shari‘a. Ra’is (Uz. from Ar. ‘head’) – head of Mahalla Committee. Raion (R. ‘district’) – remained in use in Uzbekistan. Razmezhevaniie (R. ‘demarcation’) – the policy of re-dividing central Asia along ‘national’ lines in the 1920s. Respublika (R.) – republic. Russkoiazychnoe nasselenie (R. ‘russophone population’) – Soviet and post-Soviet term intended to augment the numbers of Russian minorities in the non-Russian republics. Selsovet (Uz. from R.) – village council. Seyid (Tc. from Ar. Sayyid – ‘master’) – a descendent of the Prophet Muhammad. Sha (Tj. from Shah – ‘king’) – the title of noble persons in the Pamirs. Shari‘a (Ar.) – the Islamic code of law. Shura (Ar. ‘consultation’) – a consultative council. Sovkhoz (R. ‘Soviet farm’) – a form of village community in the Soviet Union established during collectivisation, in which the land was owned by the state and the peasants were state employees. Sultan (Kz. from Ar. ‘ruler’) – see Khan. Tarikat (T.) – see Tariqa Tariqa (Ar. ‘path’) – the mystical way of a Sufi order and thus also a Sufi order. Toy (Uz.) – feast. Trudovye kollektivy (R. ‘working collectives’) Türk Ocagı (T. ‘Turkish/Turkic House’) – a Pan-Turkic organisation in Turkey. Türk-I˙slam Sentezi (T. ‘Turkish–Islamic synthesis’) – the official ideology adopted by the Turkish authorities in the 1980s. Türkçüler Derneg˘i (T. ‘the Association of pan-Turkists’) – a PanTurkic organisation in Turkey. Turki (Ar. ‘Turkic’) – the Arabic script modified to transliterate Turcic languages. Türkmenbashy’ (Tk. ‘head of the Turkmen’) – the official title of President Niyazov. Ukaz (R.) – decree. xxiii

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

‘Ulama (Ar.) – pl. of ‘Alim. Ulema (T.) – see ‘Ulama. Ûly zhüz (Kz. ‘the senior part) – ‘the great horde’. One of the three Kazakh tribal alliances, which existed until the Russian conquest. Velayat (Tk. from Ar. Wilaya – ‘area controlled by a Wali’ ‘governor’) – province. Vokil (Uz. from Ar. Wakil) – delegate. Waqf (Ar.) – religious endowment. Zakat (Ar.) – alms. One of the five basic commandments of Islam. Zheltoqsan (Kz. ‘December’) – a Kazakh nationalistic group founded following the December 1986 riots in Alma-Ata (now Almaty). Zhogorku Kenesh (Kg. ‘the upper council’) – the parliament of Kyrgyzstan. Zhüz (Kz. ‘part’) – ‘horde’. Political alliance of Kazakh tribal confederacies led by a Chingizid, i.e. a sultan or khan. Ziyara (Ar. ‘visit’) – a visit to a holy place. Ar. = Arabic; Ir. = Iranian; Kg. = Kyrgyz; Kz. = Kazakh; R. = Russian; T. = Turkish; Tc. = Turkic; Tj. Tajik/Persian; Tk. = Turkmen; Uz. = Uzbek.

xxiv

Littoral states Other Caspian Region states

Map 1: The Caspian Region

xxv

PART I A NEW REGION OF INTERNATIONAL IMPORTANCE?

1

Oil, Pipelines and Security: The Geopolitics of the Caspian Region Mustafa Aydın

DEFINING THE REGION

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, new states, regions and security issues entered the stage of international affairs. Some of these regions, which, to all intents had been forgotten by the outside world, suddenly emerged out of obscurity into the forefront of revised geopolitical calculations. While Russia’s power and influence has weakened, the newly independent states of Central Asia and the Caucasus have taken different roads towards national consolidation and regional economic and political alliance, thereby raising international security and policy issues that did not exist before the fall of Soviet power. Properly speaking, the Caspian Region is centred on that inland body of water that is called a sea because of its size (approximately 371,000 sq. km), and includes five independent states that surround it: Russia, Azerbaijan, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan and Iran. The contemporary usage of the term ‘the Caspian Region’, in a wider geopolitical sense, implies a ‘geopolitics determined by peculiarities of geology, [that is] huge natural resources’, which has led to the formation of ‘a region defined by oil’ and gas.1 The result is the emergence of a new strategic region encompassing most of Central Asia, the North Caucasus and Transcaucasia as well as such nearby states as Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and even China. Thus the Caspian Region, connecting two distinct areas of the former Soviet Union, the Caucasus and Central Asia, carries all the geo-political weights and instabilities of both, in addition to having unique problems connected with its huge hydrocarbon reserves and multi-sided international rivalry to obtain the greatest benefit from them. 3

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

There are geo-strategic reasons to link the Caspian Basin with the wider geographic areas of the Caucasus and Central Asia when dealing with the security and geo-politics of the region. The area remains of profound interest and vital concern for Russia, which is ever-sensitive to external influence in, or the possibility of, actual physical threats to the region. For years, the region’s outlets to the world were controlled by and from Moscow. Today, as a result of the USSR’s disintegration and regional instability combined with geopolitical realignments, the number of political, economic and military actors who can influence the region’s future has increased manifold. Within the emerging geo-political equations, various factors contribute to the newly independent states’ geo-political reorientation away from their historic Russian bond. Among others, combined effects of geographic proximity, economic opportunity, ethnic and cultural ties and religion gently push the evolution of the new states in a southern direction, ‘toward historical preferences and allegiances that were interrupted by the USSR’s sealing of these areas to its own advantage’.2 These developments, however, have caused anxiety, to say the least, in Russian decision-making circles. These came by the end of 1992 to the conclusion that ‘the continuing independence of the Transcaucasian and Central Asian nations and the reorientation of their foreign policy, economic and transportation strategies toward the south will considerably undermine Russia’s great power status’.3 Losing its monopoly in regional transport and communications due to projects to build oil and gas pipelines and highways in the southern direction will also lead to the loss of direct access to the region’s rich natural resources and strategic metals. As Russia continues to depend heavily on supplies of raw materials from Central Asian states, the disengagement from the region is economically undesirable. Finally, in addition to the decrease in the overall role of Russia in the region, many Russians seem psychologically incapable of accepting a change in the status of the newly independent states. They continue to see the former Soviet southern border as Russia’s outer frontier.4 Consequently, Russia has, since 1992, been actively pursuing a policy to re-establish its economic, political and military control over Transcaucasia and Central Asia. Nevertheless, the area is also of increased relevance to Turkey, Iran, the US, China and Western European countries for various reasons. The existence of mostly Western-based multinational oil companies further complicates the situation. The West’s interest in gaining access to Caspian oil and other raw materials through market forces is clear, as is its interest in protecting its investments in the region.5 Consequently, what happens in the Caspian Region affects Western interests 4

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION

Existing pipeline Proposed pipeline to China Proposed Caspian pipeline Consortium pipeline Proposed Baku–Ceyhan pipeline Proposed pipelines via Iran Proposed pipelines to Pakistan

Map 2: The Caspian Region: Existing and Proposed Pipelines

directly. For example the impact of the competition in Central Asia and the Caucasus on Turkey, a long-time ally, or Russian disquiet in view of Western penetration into the region by means of its oil and financial companies. Since exploration has revealed significant deposits of oil and gas in the Caspian Basin, new strains for regional stability have emerged in addition to the various potential conflicts on both sides of the Caspian Sea. These are the result of conflicting interests of quite a few regional and extra-regional powers. 5

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

The possibility of transferring large-scale oil and gas deposits to industrialised Western Europe raises hopes for regional economic development and prosperity. At the same time, however, ‘the belief that whoever secures the major share of oil pipeline transit will gain enhanced influence not only throughout the Caucasus and Central Asia but also on a global political scale’, highlights the concerns about the future stability of the region. In terms of regional geo-politics, ‘control of the Caspian, or even freedom of movement upon it, represents a prize of considerable value’, and the competition for influence among regional states, with its ideological, religious and political dimensions, lowers the threshold of the possible armed conflicts erupting in the region.6 Consequently, the rivalry over the Caspian Basin energy resources, interacting with many regional conflicts surrounding the area and with the international efforts to solve peacefully these conflicts, elevates the region into a unique geo-political interest harbouring various threats to regional and wider international peace and stability. Therefore, there is a need for a new broader and more flexible analytical model for this region. As stated by Clem, ‘regions are for geographers a classification scheme, much as periods serve historians. As is true for chronology, there is no all-purpose definition for divisions of geographical space.’ For both political reasons and the simplicity they provide, ‘regional definitions are often based on political boundaries, although these boundaries usually encompass important internal differences and frequently divide like places. Thus, the operational definition of a region may not be entirely satisfactory for one’s specific needs’.7 For the purpose of this study, then, the term ‘the Caspian Region’ employs a definition that transcends the politicalgeographic delimitations made during the Soviet period. It also defies the conventional and convenient way of handling the strategic and geo-political implications and the security threats of these regions separate from each other in the post-Cold War space. Foregoing the simplistic version of geo-political classification, this chapter will refer to a vast region stretching from the Black Sea to western China and Mongolia. In this it is based on the assertion that, ‘notwithstanding the inherent problems of regionalisation, there is much that binds the region into a relatively coherent whole’, especially in geo-political and geo-economical senses. At the same time, it allows for identification of distinctive sub-regions. Hence, although there is no doubt that the Caucasus and Central Asia are two separate regions in the turbulent post-Soviet geo-political space, with different political dynamics and plenty of internal diversities and conflicts, the working definition of the Caspian Region used in this article, seeks to trace the interplay of economic, political and strategic interests of various actors. It thus 6

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has a considerable utility as a framework for describing and explaining the complex geo-politics of this important and dynamic area.8 THE IMPORTANCE OF ENERGY RESOURCE DEVELOPMENT IN THE CASPIAN REGION

The full development of the reserves of the Caspian Sea region is only at its initial stage. The majority of gas and oil reserves in this region have yet to be developed. During the Soviet era, most of the Caspian remained unexplored, primarily because the Soviet Union had lacked adequate technology to develop its offshore oil and gas reserves (most of the oil deposits of Azerbaijan, and between 30 and 40 per cent of those of Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan, are offshore) and also kept them as a ‘strategic reserve’.9 Nevertheless, the major discoveries that were made in Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan during the Soviet period indicated large reserves of oil at least for those two countries. The production of these can be increased with additional investment, new technology and the development of new export outlets. The total proven oil deposits in the Caspian region are between 16 and 32 billion barrels (comparable to the deposits in the US – 22 billion barrels – and in the North Sea – 17 billion barrels). ‘With potential [recoverable] reserves of as much as 200 billion barrels of oil, the Caspian region could become the most important player in the world oil market over the next decade’, and ‘by 2015 Caspian region oil exports will be in the four million bbl/d range’.10 In addition Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, with estimated 236–337 trillion cubic feet proven gas reserves, rank each among the world’s 20 largest natural gas countries.11 With these proven and prospective reserves, the area, although not another Middle East as some had hoped, could well be another North Sea.12 Among the littorals of the Caspian Sea, Iran is the least interested in the immediate development of Caspian oil deposits. It has oil reserves elsewhere which it is unable to utilise to their full potential due to the American embargo. Nevertheless, Iran is extremely interested in the distribution and transportation of Caspian energy resources. As Iran’s oil export and the income derived from it declined over the years because of the US-led embargo, it is agitated to see the development of new commercial rivals and wishes to benefit at least by the transportation of that oil to markets, both materially and as a way to loosen the US embargo that strangles its economy. Russia’s attitude is similar to that of Iran. It feels no haste to develop the Caspian Sea reaches as it already has large proven oil reserves and production capacity based on its Siberian oil and gas. 7

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Moreover, the Russian part of the Caspian shelf, provided that it would eventually be divided into national sectors, is not very promising in oil reserves (although they are not yet fully developed and further exploration may still uncover rich deposits). Furthermore, as one of the more important oil-exporting countries, Russia, like Iran, would not be happy to see new export rivals emerging into the world oil market, especially out of its control. Turkmenistan, like Russia and Iran, is not concerned with urgent development of its Caspian oil reserves. It has large natural gas reserves elsewhere in the country and its Caspian coast is the least explored. Turkmenistan’s short- to mid-term objective is to develop an independent export infrastructure based on natural gas without having to pass through Russian territory. Nevertheless, Turkmenistan, too, is interested in the division and mid- to long-term prospect of Caspian Basin oil and gas. Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan, on the other hand, have been interested more than others in the immediate development and export of Caspian oil as most of the proven oil resources in the area are concentrated near their shores and ‘they are in greater need of hard-currency funds that will come from the export of oil’, which would also enhance their economic and political independence from Russia. 13 However, none of the countries of the Caspian Sea Region has the necessary capital to explore and exploit the regional hydrocarbon resources, and all will need foreign investment in the foreseeable future. Moreover, exploration in the Caspian Sea is further troubled by the technological complexity. In many cases, valuable oil deposits lie deep under the seabed and ‘many productive oil fields, such as the one in Tengiz, have highly sulphurous oil’. Developments in wider international oil markets may also affect the future development of Caspian Basin oil and gas projects unfavourably, especially if world oil prices decrease further or if supply boosts due to increases in oil extraction in newly developed fields in China, Indonesia, Vietnam and Saudi Arabia as well as old deposits in Western Siberia, the Persian Gulf, North Africa and the Americas, and also because of changes in international politics, such as the lifting of international sanctions against Iraq and/or a softening of the US position towards Iran.14 In any case, apart from the Caspian Sea littorals, a number of countries will have to be included in any project, either to make possible the transit of oil through their territory or to supply the necessary investment. Among others, Turkey, Georgia and Armenia stand out as most important players in the first respect, and Iran, Bulgaria, Greece, Afghanistan, Pakistan and China may potentially be involved. The Western European countries and the US should also be 8

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counted, since necessary funds for the projects would eventually come from them. Therefore, before tapping the full benefits of Caspian oil and gas reserves, various legal, political and strategic issues have to be tackled and solved to the satisfaction of at least the majority of the littoral states, regional countries, Western oil companies and their governments. THE LEGAL STATUS OF THE CASPIAN

During the Soviet period, most of the Caspian coastline, apart from a small Iranian portion in the south, belonged to the Soviet Union. The collapse of the Soviet Union, however, left five states sharing the coastline and claiming further authority into parts of the Sea area. Although it is not difficult to see the urgent need for an explicit definition of the legal status of the Caspian, the ongoing discussion among the riparian states has tended to dwell on the sea/lake controversy while the real problem appears to be that of sharing the profits.15 According to international law the choice regarding the status of the Caspian is either common ownership of, and joint sovereignty over, all the littoral states of the Caspian, or delimitation based on some agreed-upon formula. However, there is no direct historical precedent which can help to illuminate a solution to the status of the Caspian. There is, of course, the fact of an exclusive Russian naval and military presence for about two hundred years and the signing of a number of treaties between Russia/the Soviet Union and Persia/Iran concerning freedom of navigation, maritime activity and trade in the Caspian Sea. While Russia has been quick to use the 1921 and 1940 treaties to make its point, especially with Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan, that the Caspian is an object of common use by the riparian states on an equal basis, the latter, particularly Azerbaijan, have increasingly emphasised that these treaties are not applicable to the present problem of defining the status of the Caspian, because they had only applied to navigation and fishing leaving the problem of the exploitation of mineral resources on and under the seabed out of their scope. Besides, these treaties were all agreed when there were only two littoral states. The emergence of new states at least throws the validity of these treaties into question.16 According to the original position adopted by Russia with regard to the status of the Caspian, which was also supported by Iran and Turkmenistan, it was argued that the Law of the Sea could not apply to the Caspian since it has no natural connection with other seas; that joint utilisation was the only way forward; and that the legal regime 9

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of the Caspian cannot be changed unilaterally. Russia further advocated 20-mile territorial waters plus an additional 20-mile exclusive economic zone leading to common ownership of the central area of the Caspian by all riparian states. Russian claims were based on the argument that both the 1921 and 1940 treaties and the Almaty Declaration of 21 December 1991 require that the riparian states respect the present status of the Caspian. This Russian position was delivered to the UN on 5 October 1994, accompanied with a most forceful note that ‘unilateral action in respect of the Caspian Sea is unlawful and will not be recognised by the Russian Federation, which reserves the right to take such measures as it deems necessary and whenever it deems appropriate to restore the legal order and overcome the consequences of unilateral actions’.17 This was in accordance with the earlier recommendations of the report by the Russian Institute of Defence Studies on ‘Countering Major Threats to the Security of the Russian Federation’. The report called, inter alia, for ‘the use of force in order to stop any activity of foreign companies in the former Soviet part of the Caspian until its legal status is defined’.18 In December 1996, however, Russia declared, that as a ‘compromise’, it was ready to recognise a 45-mile ‘near-shore zone, and the littoral states’ jurisdiction over the oil fields whose development has already started or is about to start’. Still, the navigation rights, management of fisheries, and environmental protection were to be jointly exercised and an interstate committee of all boundary states was to license exploration in a joint-use zone in the centre of the Caspian beyond the 45-mile exclusive national zone.19 Russia’s position regarding the legal status of the Caspian has further fluctuated with the passage of time, and there have been conflicting signals from different government agencies.20 Notably, the position of the Foreign Ministry contradicts the position of the Ministry of Fuel and Energy. The latter supports contracts guaranteeing the participation of Russian oil companies. The Foreign Ministry on the other hand regards Russia as the regional superpower and the Caspian as a ‘Russian lake’. It is also alarmed by the projects to circumvent Russia in energy transportation from the region. The Russian Foreign Ministry has, therefore, worked for a legal status that would assure that any project for developing Caspian resources could only proceed with the participation and control of Russia. In other words, it has tried to guarantee Russia an effective ‘veto power’. Apparently, ‘expanding Russia’s influence in the area of energy production’ and transportation was seen as an ‘important tool for re-establishing Russia’s predominant role in the former Soviet geopolitical space’.21 However, despite the Russian Foreign Ministry’s condemnation of 10

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the ‘unilateral seizure of oil and gas fields’, the Ministry of Fuels and Energy announced in 1997 a tender for the exploration of the shelf in the northern section of the Caspian Sea. This was interpreted by the international community at large as Russian acceptance of a sectors division. In the same way, while President Yeltsin warned in February 1998 that his country would not tolerate the attempts of its neighbours, with the support of Western companies, to marginalise Russia in the Caspian and to impose upon it an unfavourable partition into sectors, experts from Russia were discussing with their counterparts from Kazakhstan the division of the Kazakh–Russian part of the Caspian seabed on the basis of the principle of equal distance.22 Indeed, in July 1998, during the official visit of President Yeltsin to Kazakhstan, an agreement between the two countries was signed stipulating the median line principle for the seabed but preserving the water surface under joint ownership, for the Northern part of the Caspian Sea.23 Although not ratified yet by either parliament, this agreement signalled a change in the Russian Foreign Ministry’s position regarding the ways to control the Caspian Sea. The catch in the Kazakh–Russian agreement is that putting the water and sea surface under joint ownership gives a say, in fact a veto power, to Russia in any project to lay pipelines across the Caspian. Moreover, this kind of agreement, if accepted by all the littoral states, would give Russia free navigation rights in the Caspian, arising fears of an increase in Russian naval presence. In contrast to the original Russian position, the Azeri position was described as a ‘border lake’ concept with sectors formed by central median lines and internal boundaries, which correspond to international borders of the Caspian states. Accordingly, each riparian state in its own sector would have exclusive sovereignty over biological resources, water surface, navigation, and exploitation of the seabed. At times, Azerbaijan also aired an ‘open sea’ concept with 12-mile territorial waters and adjoining exclusive economic zones not exceeding 200 miles, in agreement with a central line principle.24 Azerbaijan’s position is generally supported by Kazakhstan, with a variation regarding the exclusive economic zones formed by a central line equidistant from points on the coastline. Accordingly, Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan in a unilateral manner have already divided the Caspian to suit their own designs, though Iran, Russia and Turkmenistan object to such moves. Recent negotiations between the RF and Azerbaijan have indicated that, perhaps as a result of pressure from Lukoil, there is a possibility that the previous stance taken by Russia on the common ownership issue may become less rigid, adjusting towards the Azeri position 11

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of the ‘border lake’ concept, even though ‘the joint operation of an exploitation project in the central part of the Caspian is still, in essence, a projection of the common usage approach’.25 The Russian approach to Azerbaijan could further be modified if the negotiations involving Russian oil companies in the exploration and exploitation of the central part of the Caspian Sea proceed favourably to Russian interests. Although Turkmenistan had earlier supported the Russian position on the Caspian, its position remained somewhat ambiguous since February 1997, when President Niyazov of Turkmenistan announced that the Azeri and Chirag oil deposits, which had been exploited unilaterally by Azerbaijan, were actually situated on Turkmenistan’s territory. A fierce disagreement ensued between the two countries, and since then Turkmenistan has claimed full rights to Azeri and Kyapaz oil deposits and partial rights to the Chirag oil deposits.26 However, the lack of real Russian support for Turkmenistan has led the latter to search for a deal with Azerbaijan, which now seems quite possible.27 They issued a statement in February 1998 to the effect that both countries agreed that the Caspian Sea between Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan would be divided along the median line, but disagreements over where to draw that line continue. If a de facto deal is finally agreed upon between Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan, the implementation of the sectors principle of delimitation of national jurisdiction in the Caspian Sea will become almost inevitable, and this will leave no room for any ‘condominium’ arrangement. In fact, in October 1998, President Niyazov agreed publicly to a division of the Caspian into national sectors, although no specific proposals were given and no further developments took place on this ground. Iran continues to insist on a condominium solution, to protest against the plans to construct underwater pipelines across the Caspian, and favours the transportation of oil by the existing pipelines through the territory of Iran and Russia. Nevertheless, it is clear that Iran can accept a sectors principle of the Caspian Sea division if its interests are taken into account, primarily in the Azerbaijan– Turkmenistan deal concerning the partition of the southern Caspian. Indeed, Tehran has already somewhat softened its attitude towards Azerbaijan after the latter awarded Iran exploration rights in ShahDeniz. Nevertheless, Iranian Foreign Minister Kamal Kharrazi declared in April 1998 that Iran would agree to sectoral partition of the Caspian only if it was divided into ‘equal shares’.28 Behind all these controversies lies the fact that the size of the yields from exploitation rights for individual states depends on the status of the Caspian. If the Caspian is divided among the littoral states, Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan will have the largest share of proven oil 12

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deposits and exploitation rights. Under the ‘border lake’ concept in particular they will get more than double the amount that Russia will. Under the ‘enclosed sea’ concept, however, the gap will be somewhat reduced, while under the Russian 45-mile proposal, most of the Azeri offshore oil will be transferred to collective ownership.29 Moreover, underpinning the Russian position is the argument that it has certain ‘rights’ in the newly independent states, because their economies were developed with Russian financial support and expertise. Russia must have ‘access to the resources of the Commonwealth of Independent States’, declared in 1994 the then Russian Fuel and Energy Minister Iurii Shafrannik, because ‘we, by virtue of our labour, mind, [and] energy have created all this’.30 Other littoral states, however, are eager to realise their potential wealth from the Caspian in order both to stabilise their shaky economies and domestic politics and to distance themselves from the Russian sphere of influence. The latter endeavour is supported by the US. Washington continues to object strongly to the condominium approach because it will bring Iran into the picture. Given the fact that most of the oil companies operating in the region are American, and that the Iran–Libya Sanctions Act of 1996 blocks them from participating in any project for Caspian development involving Iran, the views of the US government assume greater importance. It is obvious that, in the final analysis, any Caspian compromise will require the agreement of the five littoral states and at least half a dozen other regional players with conflicting political and economic goals. In the absence of an agreement, however, a worst-case scenario might not exclude the possibility of a military confrontation between rival states.31 PIPELINE ROUTES AND REGIONAL RIVALRIES

One of the peculiar features of Caspian oil resources is the fact that the countries most interested in early exploration and transportation of oil and gas are landlocked and have to rely on the goodwill and cooperation of their neighbours to be able to do so. As each country has its preference regarding how the oil and gas should be transported to the markets, and as external powers are trying to ensure that the road selected best meets their needs, the issue assumes an importance quite separate from that of production. The transportation question manifests itself in both political and economic considerations because ‘the actual problems of the region involve factors that cannot be judged in terms of economic costs alone’. Therefore the region’s political and strategic conditions assume prominence in the discussion of 13

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which route should be chosen for transportation of hydrocarbon resources out of the region.32 The initial power vacuum created in the region by the collapse of the Soviet Union has pulled most of the regional states and external powers into a dangerous power/influence game in a rapidly changing Eurasian scenery, and the competition had earlier called to mind images of the ‘Great Game’.33 The RF, Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia, the US, the EU, Pakistan, China, Japan and Israel were among the countries envisioned at one time or another to be key players. Obviously, each country has specific objectives, and the competition has economic, political, ideological and religious dimensions. As such, there exist various potentials for conflict among regional rivals. While Russia welcomed initially, for the first time, Turkish influence in Central Asia and the Caucasus as a counterweight to Iranian dominated pan-Islamism, those views have by now shifted as Turkey moved more assertively than Iran to supplant Russian influence in the region. Accordingly, the fear that Turkey might have become an agent of the West in the region to dislodge and displace Russian influence took hold within various Russian circles.34 Thus Russia, getting increasingly edgy about Turkish intentions in the region, became itself more aggressive in asserting its ‘rights in its near abroad’.35 Hence, after a brief period of self-isolation, Russia eagerly moved to re-establish its place within the Caspian Region as a dominant actor. In this move political, economic and military pressures have been used extensively, and Russian pressures on the newly independent states went as far as to argue that stability in Central Asia and the Caucasus would be threatened without a Russian presence in the region.36 At the same time, Russian–Iranian relations have rapidly developed after an initial suspicion and reached an all-time high, with Iran becoming not only an important trading partner and profitable arms customer but also an important exponent of Moscow’s interests in the region. In return for Russian leniency towards Iranian moves in Central Asia and Afghanistan, as well as support in the Gulf, Iran pledged ‘not to do anything that could undermine Russia’s ability to maintain and strengthen the CIS and to pursue an active security role in Central Asia and the Caucasus’, as well as to refrain from fuelling Islamic radicalism in the region.37 Under the current geo-political calculations, Russia is keenly interested in retaining, or recovering, its political influence over the Caspian Region. In order to acquire this leverage, Russia has been insistent on the northern line Baku–Novorossiisk as the main transit route for the future oil from the Caspian Basin as this would ensure Moscow’s exclusive and strategic control over the region’s resources. 14

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However, the existing Russian pipeline system, though currently under-utilised, ‘do[es] not have the capacity to absorb all the oil and gas the Caspian region could produce’.38 They were originally designed to link the Soviet Union internally, not to perform as export outlets. An additional limitation is that the oil has to be transported by tankers from Novorossiisk through the congested and ecologically sensitive Bosphorus to get to the world market. Added to this are earlier Russian attempts to use its virtual monopoly on export routes as a means to control all regional issues, thus highlighting the fact that ‘the Moscow-centric pattern of post-Soviet infrastructure renders energy-rich states dependent on Russia despite their own reserves, leaving them especially vulnerable to Russian reprisals should their foreign policies stray too far from Russian interests’.39 The US and Turkey are opposed to the Russian northern route. These two, together with Georgia and Azerbaijan prefer the western route Baku–Ceyhan which will transport the oil and gas via Georgia directly to the Mediterranean. Other various projects notwithstanding, the main competition appears to be between the northern and the western routes.40 Thus, the rivalry between Russia and Turkey over pipeline routes is likely to intensify in the foreseeable future. What is at stake is not only oil and gas transit revenues, but, more importantly, securing and maintaining influence in the Caucasus and Central Asia, to which end the pipeline network is considered to be one of the key factors.41 Quite clearly, the western route would give Turkey greater influence than Russia, while the northern route could greatly benefit Moscow. Thus, there is an increasing scope for major clashes of interests in the region, particularly intensified after the arrival of other extra-regional players. The US support for the western route is firmly embedded in its wider Eurasian and Middle Eastern strategic priorities. One of them is to prop up the independence of the newly independent states of Central Asia and the Caucasus against the influence of Russia.42 To be able to do this, the US initially supported Turkey’s overtures toward Central Asia and the Caucasus. However, as it became increasingly clear that Turkey’s financial resources and political weight would not be enough to counter the Russian neo-hegemonic resurgence in its near abroad, and as American oil interests in the region became substantial, the US moved with more determination to undermine, and even replace, Russian influence. Another strategic goal of the US is to ‘exclude Iran from participation in the production of Caspian oil and gas, and to prevent the development of transportation routes or pipelines that would lead from the Caspian region to either the Persian Gulf or the Indian Ocean via Iran’. This objective is, on the one hand, closely intertwined with the 15

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ongoing dual containment policy of the US against Iran and Iraq, and, on the other, ‘connected with the fundamental US strategy in the Middle East of not permitting the emergence of any dominant regional power capable of influencing the oil market in the Gulf’.43 Therefore, although the US government has recently chosen to tolerate the smallscale oil-swap arrangement between Kazakhstan and Iran, the overall US opposition to any major Iranian involvement in Caspian oil development and transportation may remain unchanged despite signs of positive change in Iran.44 The direction to be chosen for oil and gas transportation from the Caspian region depends on a number of factors. Geo-political considerations of the major world powers and local security problems are as important as (if not more than) financial considerations, geographic location of the main consumers and the existing infrastructure to this decision. Obviously, local conflicts, political instability and lack of regional cooperation have slowed down the development of Caspian oil and gas resources and export routes. Many of the proposed routes pass through the Transcaucasus, where the war in Chechnya, and frozen conflicts within Georgia and between Armenia and Azerbaijan, have obstructed their development. The Afghan civil war and the instability in Tajikistan have likewise hindered exports south-eastwards.45 Moreover, there are intimate linkages between international economic and political rivalries to control oil and the seemingly endless conflicts and instability in the region, especially those in the Caucasus. This is not to suggest that the ethnic-based conflicts that have racked the Caucasus since the collapse of the Soviet Union were caused by the struggle to share the profit of the region’s hydrocarbon resources. Still, the latter certainly fuelled regional tensions and played its part in the manner Russia and other regional and extra-regional powers have been handling these conflicts. An analysis of Russia’s role, especially in Abkhazia, in Nagorno-Karabakh and Chechnya, clearly indicates that the Russian policy in this region has been motivated by its desire to prevent Western influence, and that it has been aimed at the disruption of signed or planned international projects for the development of the Caspian Basin, that excluded Russia. Obviously, ‘only the possibility of social, economic or political instability in these regions could have slow[ed] down the process’ of Western penetration.46 The gradual change in the major powers’ position towards the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan, clearly demonstrates the influence of Caspian oil and gas development on geo-political and strategic considerations and vice versa. Obviously the rekindling of the conflict or the continuing of the exist16

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ing uneasy ceasefire between Armenia and Azerbaijan helps Russia to prevent the construction of a pipeline from Azerbaijan to the Mediterranean.47 At the beginning of the conflict, wishing to preserve its influence with both sides, and ‘to demonstrate . . . its own ability to achieve the settlement of conflicts on the territory of the FSU’, Russia tried to keep external powers from playing a principal role in mediating a political solution to the conflict. It was reasoned that ‘under conditions of multilaterally negotiated accords’ Azerbaijan, and possibly Armenia, ‘would then elude exclusive Russian hegemony or control’. Moreover, since ‘Russian security policy’, following Soviet tradition, ‘regards the borderlands, if not under Russian control, as advanced bases for a Western threat to Russia’, Azerbaijan’s efforts under the leadership of anti-Russian Ebulfez Elchibey, in 1992–93, to establish extensive links with Turkey were regarded in Moscow with open suspicion.48 Russia was also concerned with the continuing Azeri indecision regarding its membership of the CIS. Fearing that Azerbaijan’s withdrawal from the CIS could start a chain reaction, Moscow decided to keep Azerbaijan weak and on the defensive. Discreetly diverting weapons and military expertise to the Armenians through Russiandominated CIS forces enabled them to score military victories. Azerbaijan’s poor performance on the front also provided Moscow with the means to exploit local instability for its own geo-political benefit. However, after Aliyev took Azerbaijan again into the CIS in 1993, Russia started to exert pressure on Armenia and created an uneasy ceasefire in May 1994, which still holds. Russia’s policy has undergone more changes since then. On the one hand Armenia and Russia signed a treaty of Friendship and Cooperation on 28 August 1997. This allowed for Russian military bases in Armenia and for Russian forces being stationed on its borders with Turkey and Iran. In addition a separate deal was concluded in July 1998, which created a joint venture with Gazprom of Russia to supply Armenia with natural gas.49 On the other hand, the Russian position towards Azerbaijan has also modified especially following Evgenii Primakov’s appointment as Minister of Foreign Affairs. He was appointed with the support of ‘pragmatists’ in Russian policy-making and various lobbies and interest groups, primarily linked with the oil and gas industry. As a result of the Caspian oil concessions awarded to Lukoil by President Aliyev of Azerbaijan throughout 1994, oil interests became influential in persuading the Ministry to look for the possibilities of ‘resolution of the NagornoKarabakh conflict on conditions and terms close to those of Azerbaijan’.50 The link between oil and Russian policy towards Nagorno-Karabakh was openly expressed by Iurii Shafrannik, the 17

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

Russian Minister for Fuel and Energy. After the signature of an agreement between his Ministry and the State Oil Company of Azerbaijan (SOCAR), securing participation of Russia in the development of oil and gas resources in the Caspian he stated: ‘The signing of the treaty between Moscow and Baku will have an effect on solving the Karabakh conflict.’51 Consequently, Russia did not object to the Azeri formula for the settlement of the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict at the 1997 Lisbon meeting of the OSCE Minsk Group.52 Moreover, after the Lisbon meeting the Russian representatives in the negotiation process acted closely with the West and finally agreed on a settlement plan based on the principle of the status quo ante. This clearly indicated to Armenia’s isolation and the growing influence of the ‘oil and gas lobby’ in Moscow.53 It is important to note that, not only the Russian, but also the American position on the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict has changed as the Caspian oil resources gained importance. Following the Azeri decision to blockade Armenia from September 1992 onwards, the Armenian lobby in the US was able to push through section 907 of the Freedom Support Act in October 1992, which prohibited US assistance to Azerbaijan until it has taken ‘demonstrable steps to cease all blockades and other offensive uses of force against Armenia and Nagorno-Karabakh’.54 However, as the American oil interests come to be of greater importance to their stakes in Azerbaijan, ‘pure economic and strategic interests gradually overweighed the pressure of the Armenian lobby and significant adjustments took place in the US policy regarding Armenia and Azerbaijan’.55 Already former National Security Advisor Zbigniev Brzezinski’s visit to Baku in October 1995 indicated a tilt in the US stance closer to Azerbaijan. Concurrently American think-tanks started to criticise the Armenian Government for its ‘increasingly authoritarian and despotic regime’ and the Armenian-American lobby for ‘poisoning the promising business environment for American firms’.56 In June 1997, after a number of contracts between American companies and SOCAR had been signed, Deputy Secretary of State Talbot visited Baku with a proposal for arbitration. The proposal called for, among other things, Armenian withdrawal from the occupied territories outside Nagorno-Karabakh. Finally, following Aliyev’s visit to Washington on 1–2 August 1997 and the Armenian refusal to accept the OSCE December 1997 proposal to settle the NagornoKarabakh dispute in phases, a US legislation was approved in October 1998 that permitted exemptions from the bans contained in section 907. It is obvious that the prospect of the development and exploitation of the oil and gas deposits of the Caspian Sea is beginning to change the context of the feud. 18

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION

The reasons for such changes in American attitudes, however, transcend purely economic interests. While Armenia has become a strategic ally of Russia granting Moscow military bases, Azerbaijan, with its ‘Western-oriented, secular’ government, has increasingly come to be considered as a ‘natural partner in the region’ that ‘has aligned itself with America’s interests’.57 Obviously that resurgence of Russian hegemony in the Caspian Basin is deemed as a threat to US strategic considerations. The shortest route for a pipeline from Azerbaijan to the Mediterranean is through Armenia and eastern Turkey. However, since the still unresolved Nagorno-Karabakh conflict makes this route impossible in the near future, and since the US opposes passing through Iran, Georgia has become the only possible route for the western line. But Georgia, too, is engulfed by a number of internal conflicts, a situation which is obviously in Russia’s favour if it remains so. Thus, the construction of a pipeline from Baku to Supsa for the ‘early oil’ was suspended briefly in October 1998 because of fighting between government forces and followers of the former president Gamsakhurdia.58 Georgian President Shevardnadze escaped assassination attempts in 1995 and 1998, and survived a short-lived military uprising in October 1998. All three were reported to have been linked to disputes over the construction of oil pipelines through Georgian territory. Shevardnadze himself blamed them on forces opposed to the construction of an oil pipeline across his country: ‘For five or six years we have been doing everything possible to solve the problems over the construction of the oil pipeline, and they [the Russians] are trying to interfere with that.’59 A new variable has recently been introduced to the ‘pipeline game’ by the chairman of the Georgian National Independence Party, Irakli Tsereteli, who, after the October 1998 uprising, called on NATO and/or the US to station a military contingent in Georgia to protect Caspian oil transport.60 Later, in December 1998, representatives from the GUAM Group held talks about setting up a special peacekeeping force to protect the oil export pipelines.61 They proposed to set this force up in cooperation with NATO, within the framework of the Partnership for Peace Programme.62 As the rivalry between the northern and the western routes heightened, the leaders of Turkey and Azerbaijan made several announcements to the effect that there would be no other options for transportation of oil, but through the territory of Turkey. Finally, on 29 October 1998, the presidents of Turkey, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Kazakhstan signed the Ankara Declaration, strongly confirming ‘the accomplishment of their determination in realising the Caspian– Mediterranean (Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan) Project as the main export pipeline project’.63 President Niyazov of Turkmenistan, who did not 19

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

wish to put his signature to the Declaration, signed a similar bilateral document with Turkey, endorsing plans for a pipeline under the Caspian Sea and on to Turkey via Azerbaijan and Georgia.64 The US government openly put its weight behind the Turkish option, both before and after the Ankara Declaration. In October 1998, when it became clear that the oil companies that made up Azerbaijan International Operating Company, which has the concession to export the Azeri oil, were unwilling to recommend the Baku–Ceyhan route as their final choice, US government officials insisted within days, that the Baku–Ceyhan line was the best choice and that despite its cost it ‘can provide a commercially viable way of carrying Caspian oil to the Mediterranean’.65 Moreover, in an unprecedented effort the US Trade and Development Agency announced in October 1998 a grant of $823.000 to BOTAS, the Turkish pipeline consortium, to allow it ‘to gain access to US expertise on technical, financial, environmental and legal matters associated with negotiation of the Baku–Ceyhan oil pipeline and the trans-Caspian gas pipeline’.66 A month later the US opened a Caspian Trade Investment and Finance Centre in Ankara, staffed by the representatives of the three US Government trade finance agencies: The Trade and Development Agency, the Overseas Private Investment Corporation and EximBank. The US favours this route because it passes through pro-American countries and would bind them closer to each other and to Western interests. Moreover, it would also secure Turkey’s role as a major player in the Caspian Region, which, in turn, ‘would boost the status of a loyal NATO ally whose secular, moderate government could’, after all, ‘serve as a model for post-Soviet states such as Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Turkmenistan’ and could check the influences of Iran and Russia in the region.67 If the Baku–Ceyhan pipeline is built and put into operation, its main effect will be the weakening or even the complete loss of economic and transportational dependence of the Central Asian and Caucasian states on Russia. Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan will emerge as new competitors to Russia in the export of oil and gas to the world market, and will use the money thus obtained to enhance their political independence from Russia. The role of the Western states, whose oil and gas companies will eventually provide necessary investments, will increase, as will the role of Turkey. On the other hand, the perceived decrease in Russian influence or outside attempts to isolate or eliminate Russia in the Caspian Region can easily become counterproductive, and may quickly encounter an asymmetric response potentially destructive to the stability of regional security. Finally, in addition to the bilateral rivalries between Russia, Turkey and Iran, on a more general level, we are witnessing the emer20

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION

gence of two rival groups or loosely defined political alliances in the region. These are the RF, Armenia and Iran on the one side, and the US, Azerbaijan and Turkey on the other, while Georgia, though leaning towards the second group, refrains from joining it openly fearing Russian reprimand. Together with the Turkish–Israeli military and security cooperation, and Iranian dislike for it, the long-term implication of this kind of confrontation might have extended affects throughout Eurasia and the Middle East. ENVIRONMENTAL AND ECOLOGICAL ISSUES

The world’s attention has been attracted to the Caspian Region mainly because of regional rivalries over highly explosive issues of oil extraction, transportation and profit sharing. However, there is another, equally important, danger about which politicians and oil interests generally keep silent, namely the ruin of the Caspian’s unique ecosystem accompanied by an irreversible environmental catastrophe. This is due to the total lack of respect for overall regional development and the long-term violation by the Soviet Union of the generally accepted environmental norms. The present rush of Western oil companies and the lack of control over oil exploration operations in most of the newly independent Caspian riparian states only help to exacerbate the situation. The general ecological situation throughout the region is already beyond recovery. In addition to the rising sea level and flooding of coastal areas, there is the problem of increasing saturation and greasiness of the soil.68 As a result of pollution and the upheaval caused by hasty exploration of the coastal shelf and development of offshore oilfields, various forms of aquatic life are facing extinction. Moreover, the Azerbaijani coastline has now been declared unsafe for humans because the concentration of hydrocarbon waste is three times more than the permitted norm. This is a result of the development works in the Azeri, Chirag and Guneshli oil fields. All of this large-scale environmental and ecological damage underlines the need for an international authority to enforce compliance with appropriate environmental norms in the Caspian Basin. However, the ongoing dispute over access to resources presents a major obstacle to effective management of such problems, particularly at the supranational level. Thus the negotiations on the legal status of the Caspian Sea are intertwined with environmental concerns. Both Iran and Russia have objected to oil and gas development projects in the Caspian and opposed the construction of trans-Caspian pipelines on environmental grounds. However, other countries have 21

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

harboured suspicion that both Iran and Russia were using environmental issues to block exploitation of the Caspian reaches by others. This is strengthened by the fact that Russia is still by far the largest polluter of the Caspian Sea. Following the agreement to divide the northern Caspian between Kazakhstan and Russia, Moscow has called for uniform environmental norms to be applied in the northern Caspian. However, the fact that its favoured regime for environmental protection would also yield Russia a greater proportion of oil reserves undermines its sincerity. Environmental questions surrounding the Black Sea in general, and the Bosphorus in particular, have also become a factor in the choice of export routes for Caspian oil. The ports of the Black and Baltic Seas were the principal outlets for the Soviet Union’s oil export. Following the collapse of the USSR, the Black Sea has remained the largest outlet for Russian oil exports. Exports through the Bosphorus have grown since 1991, and there is a rising concern that projected Caspian Sea export volumes will exceed the capacity of the Bosphorus to accommodate the tanker traffic.69 To solve the anticipated problems in the Bosphorus, Turkey has already issued new navigational rules in November 1998 that limit shipping in the Straits area. It also plans to install new radar and navigation systems to improve the safety and administration of navigation in the Straits. However, these precautions will not be sufficient to curtail the expected increase in tanker traffic through the Bosphorus because of international rules governing the right of passage in the Straits. The only way to avoid further congestion would be the development of alternative export routes that bypass the Straits.70 CONCLUDING REMARKS

In the Caspian Region, energy politics and security are closely linked with geo-political analysis of the regional and extra-regional powers, and this study attempts to expose that linkage. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Caspian Region has become the scene of a quadruple international struggle for control of the region’s energy resources. The parties to this struggle are: the Russian Federation, which aims at establishing its dominance over the region, other countries of the region that try to shun Russian domination, international oil companies backed by their governments, and neighbouring countries, such as Turkey and Iran, striving to enhance their regional influence and standing. The local struggle in which each country tries to prevail over the others as to who owns what and how much, presents rather bewil22

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION

dering conflict possibilities. Combined with the transportation of oil from the region – a significant issue in its own right – it is rapidly becoming a major international problem with alternative doomsday scenarios. None of the options is trouble-free as ‘they all either pass through politically unstable areas, involve high costs, or are politically risky because they offend the strategic sensibilities of one or another of the regional powers’.71 In the final analysis, the choice of routes will have major strategic, political and economic consequences not only for the countries of the Caspian Basin, but also for wider Eurasian and Middle Eastern geo-political calculations with global repercussions. Added to pipeline polarisation is a troubling tendency for investment and military involvement to take place side by side. Obviously, Western oil companies are only interested in the Caspian for profits, but at the same time, some form of alliance between Azerbaijan and the US looks likely as interests became entrenched. Similarly, Israel’s role in the trans-Caspian pipeline seems strictly business, at least for the time being. But Israel’s growing military alliance with Turkey is also becoming difficult to ignore as a factor in regional policy since it is perceived as a threat by Iran. The exploitation of the regional energy resources is crucial to the newly independent states of Central Asia and the Caucasus not only for economic development and integration into world economy – it may also be the only way of securing long-term political stability and increased independence. Undoubtedly, energy exports to the West remain the primary source for hard currency for post-Soviet Russia, the Caucasus and Central Asia, and are vital to economic reconstruction and regional development. Equally important is the critical role of energy exports to the West for the economic and political freedom of the non-Russian members of the CIS. The increasing economic and energy independence of the countries of the Caspian Region will result in the weakening of Russian power, making it difficult for Russia to reassert its hegemony over them. Moreover, the question of how growing oil and gas revenues will be put to use will have a significant effect on both domestic political stability of energy-rich countries and intra-regional relationships in the Caucasus and Central Asia, where there have traditionally been a number of unsettling factors including ethnic conflicts. The conflict between Azerbaijan and Armenia, as well as the Abkhaz and Ossetian secessionist movements in Georgia, for instance, will be influenced by the development of Caspian oil. The construction of pipelines will also influence the winding down process of the civil war in Afghanistan. In short, whoever controls the energy economy in the Caspian Region will determine in the mid- to long term the destiny of 23

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

the region, shaping its domestic and international linkages. Hence the stakes are high and vital for both regional states and their neighbours, as well as the wider international community. The real danger lies in the fact that the parties that are interested in Caspian energy politics are increasingly taking proto-ideological sides in the competition, thus increasing the possibility to turn the Caspian rivalry into a multi-sided conflict that cannot be stopped. It is clear by now that the struggle over Caspian energy resources and pipelines is not simply about economics, but has become a basic feature of international political rivalries of great scope and diversity, linking local antagonisms over land and ethnicity with control over energy. Accordingly, the competition is increasingly conducted in the context of a political struggle between two irreconcilable camps. On the one side are the Western countries, primarily the US, Turkey and Caspian littorals that wish to enhance their independence and sovereignty. They all aim at minimising Russian influence and control. On the other side are essentially the RF, which is trying to reassert its regional hegemony, and Iran and Armenia who are drawn ever closer to Russia because of their increasing regional and international isolation. In this context, from the American perspective, the development of the Caspian oil fields is also interlocked with the strategic objectives of halting the spread of Iranian Islamic influence to the Caspian region and of the policy of dual containment towards Iran and Iraq, which figures highly in its post-Cold War world strategy. In sum, the Caspian oil resources have become a determining factor in the regional and international geo-politics of the Caucasus and Central Asia, where energy politics, economic development, political ambitions, and military interests have become inextricable. Central Asia was considered the heartland of the ancient Asian world. Its pivotal geographical position allowed it to play a key role in the relations among the peoples of Eurasia. In the Middle Ages, it was the land bridge between China and Europe. In the modern world, the Caucasus’ importance grew from its role in the struggle between the Great Powers to create spheres of influence in the region. The seventy-odd years of Soviet rule closed both regions to outside influence and observation. With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, both regions, connected by the Caspian Sea and its wealth, are rising again to claim their prominence in the world’s geo-political developments. One can only hope that this will proceed in a peaceful way.

24

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION Table 1.1

Existing and future pipelines in the Caspian Region

Name

Type Route

Capacity Length (1,000 b/d) (km)

Status

AIOC Early Oil (South–North)

Oil

Baku–Groznyi – Novorossiisk

120+

1,600

Russian part inoperative

AIOC Early Oil (East–West)

Oil

Baku–Tbilisi– Supsa

120+

885

Under construction

AIOC Main Export Pipeline

Oil

Undecided, preferable via Turkey

1,000

3,220+

Decision pending

Caspian Pipeline Consortium

Oil

Tengiz– Novorossiisk

1,340

2,415

Contracts signed

Turkmenistan– Afghanistan– Pakistan

Oil

Chardzou– Gwadar

1,000

1,290+

Situation in Afghanistan stalling construction

Turkmenistan– Afghanistan– Pakistan

Gas

Dauletabad– Central Pakistan

2bcm

1,405

Situation in Afghanistan stalling construction

Kazakhstan– China

Oil

Western Kazkhstan to China

TBA

Approx. Feasibility 6,000 study pending

Turkmenistan– China

Oil

Chardzou– China

TBA

Approx. Feasibility 6,000 study pending

Central Asia– Turkey

Gas

Kazakhstan– Turkmenistan– Azerbaijan

TBA

Approx. Pending 2,100 decision on status of Caspian Sea

Iran–Turkey

Gas

Northern Iran– eastern Turkey

10cbm/yr over 23 years

970

Contract signed; financing unclear

Source: US Department of State, Caspian Region Energy Development Report (as Required by HR3610), undated report attached to letter from Barbara Larkin, Assistant Secretary for Legislative Affairs to Senator Robert Byrd, 15 April 1997, p. 3.

25

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION Table 1.2

Estimates of recoverable oil and gas resources in the Caspian Region

Azerbaijan Kazakhstan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan Russia Iran** Total*

Proven oil

Possible oil

Total*

Proven gas

Possible gas

3.6 10.0 1.5 0.2 0.2 na 15.6

27.0 85.0 32.0 1.0 5.0 12.0 163.0

31.0 95.0 33.5 1.2 5.0 12.0 178.0

0.3 1.5 4.4 2.1 na 0.0 8.3

1.0 2.5 4.5 1.0 na 0.3 9.3

Notes: * Totals may not add up due to rounding. ** Only Caspian Region. Source: US Department of State, Caspian Region Energy Development Report (as Required by HR3610), undated report attached to letter from Barbara Larkin, Assistant Secretary for Legislative Affairs to Senator Robert Byrd, 15 April 1997, p. 3.

NOTES 1 Manaba Shimizu (ed.), IDE Spot Survey: The Caspian Basin Oil and its Impact on Eurasian Power Games (Tokyo: Institute of Developing Economies, 1998), p. 8; and Graham Fuller, ‘Geopolitical Dynamics of the Caspian Region’, Caspian Crossroads, Vol. 3, No. 2 (1997), p. 1, respectively. 2 Richard E. Friedman and S. Enders Wimbush, ‘Central Asia and the West’, 22 May 1998, p. 2 (http://www.mfa.gov.tr/grupf/percept/11/per1–7.htm). 3 Oumerserik Kasenov, ‘Russia and Transcaucasia: Oil, Pipelines, and Geopolitics’, in Roald Z. Sagdeev and Susan Eisenhower (eds.), Central Asia: Conflict, Resolution, and Change (Washington, DC: The Center for Political and Strategic Studies, 1995) (http://www.cpss.org/casiabk/chap6.txt). 4 Gregory Gleason, The Central Asian States: Discovering Independence (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1999), p. 139. 5 Friedman and Wimbush, ‘Central Asia and the West’, p. 2. 6 Charles W. Blandy, The Caucasus Region and Caspian Basin: Change, Complication and Challenge (Sandhurst: The Royal Military Academy, 1998), p. 4; and Clive Schofield and Martin Pratt, ‘Claims to the Caspian Sea’, Jane’s Intelligence Review (February 1996), p. 75, respectively. 7 Ralph Clem, ‘The New Central Asia: Prospects for Development’, in Michael Bradshaw (ed.), Geography and Transition in the Post-Soviet Republics (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1997), p. 165. 8 Ibid., p. 167. 9 Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 13; and US Department of Energy, Energy Information Agency (EIA), Fact Sheet: Caspian Sea, December 1998, p. 1 (http://www.eia.doe.gov/emeu/cabs/caspfull.html). 10 US Department of State, Caspian Region Energy Development Report, 15 April 1997, p. 3. 11 This is comparable to the total North American reserves of 300 trillion cubic feet. See EIA Fact Sheet, pp. 1–2.

26

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION 12 See Chapter 2 in this volume. 13 Aleksandr Akimov, ‘Oil and Gas in the Caspian Sea Region: An Overview of Cooperation and Conflict’, Perspectives on Central Asia, Vol. 1, No. 5 (June 1996), p. 3 (http://www.cpss.org/casianw/akim.txt). 14 Ibid., pp. 2–3. 15 This analysis is, in part, based on my ‘Regional Security Issues and Conflicts in the Caucasus and the Caspian’, in Kurt R. Spillmann and Joachim Krause (eds), International Security Challenges in a Changing World, Studien zu Zeitgeschichte und Sicherheitpolilitik 2 (Bern and Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1999), pp. 126–9. 16 According to the Soviet–Iranian Treaties of 26 February 1921 and 25 March 1940, an exclusive 10-mile fishing zone was established, and the Caspian Sea was given the status of an enclosed sea, under joint sovereignty of the USSR and Iran. No particular attention was given to the use of underwater resources. In theory, the USSR and Iran observed the principle of joint exploration of Caspian biological resources, even though in practice nobody has tried to enforce a 50/50 approach to sharing. During the Cold War only the Soviet Union extracted some oil from the continental shelf near Baku, and Iran neither condemned it, nor claimed a share of the profits. 17 Quoted in Schofield and Pratt, ‘Claims to the Caspian Sea’, pp. 76–7. 18 Quoted by Yuri Fedorov, ‘Russia’s Policies Toward Caspian Region Oil: NeoImperial or Pragmatic?’, Perspectives on Central Asia, Vol. 1, No. 6 (September 1996), p. 1 (http://www.cpss.ord/casianw/septpers.html). 19 Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 11; and US Department of Energy, EIA, Country Analysis Briefs: Russia (http://www.eia.doe.gov/emeu/cabs/Russia.html), July 1998. 20 For differences between various interest groups in Russian foreign policy-making regarding the Caspian Region see Fedorov, ‘Russia’s Policies Toward Caspian Region Oil’. 21 Andrei Shoumikhin, ‘Economics and Politics of Developing Caspian Oil Resources’, Perspectives on Central Asia, Vol. 1, No. 8 (November 1996), p. 2. Posted at (http://www.cpss.or/casianw/novpers.html). 22 ‘Interview with Yeltsin’, Corrie della Sera, 8 February 1998. 23 EIA Fact Sheet, p. 6; and RFE/RL Newsline, 7 July 1998. 24 Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 11; Blandy, The Caucasus Region, p. 15. 25 Blandy, The Caucasus Region, p. 14. 26 See Charles W. Blandy, ‘The Caspian: A Sea of Troubles’, CSRC Report S31 (Sandhurst: The Royal Military Academy, September 1997). 27 Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 12. 28 In a speech delivered to the conference on ‘Central Asia and Caucasus; The Role of Regional Powers in Conflict Resolution and Economic Development’, Tehran, The Institute for Political and International Studies, 27–28 April 1998. This means Iran claims 20 per cent of the seabed, while the normal division according to international law would give it less than 10 per cent. 29 Calculations are based on the figures given by Blandy, The Caucasus Region, p. 16. 30 Schofield and Pratt, ‘Claims to the Caspian Sea’, p. 77; and Elaine Sciolino, New York Times, 21 June 1998. 31 Schofield and Pratt, ‘Claims to the Caspian Sea’, p. 79. 32 Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 30. The analysis in this section is based on my ‘Turkey and Central Asia: Challenges of Change’, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 15, No. 2 (1996), pp. 163–170; and ‘Ethnic Conflict and Security in Central Asia and Caucasus; The Role of Turkey’, Marco Polo Magazine, No. 3 (1998), pp. 23–5. 33 For a description of the new ‘Great Game’ and the policies and aims of its players

27

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

34 35 36 37 38 39 40

41

42

43 44

45

see M. E. Ahrari, ‘The Dynamics of the New Great Game in Muslim Central Asia’, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 13, No. 4 (1994), pp. 525–39. For an elaboration of this view see ibid., pp. 531–3. For an investigation into Russia’s newly asserted interests in its near abroad see Stephan Blank, ‘Russia, the Gulf and Central Asia in New Middle East’, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 13, No. 2 (1994), pp. 267–81. Statement by the Commander of the Russian Frontier Forces in August 1994, quoted by Carol Migdalowitz, ‘Armenia–Azerbaijan Conflict’, CRS Issue Brief (Washington, DC: Library of Congress, 1995), p. 13. Amin Saikal, ‘Russian Policy toward Central Asia and the Middle East’, in Peter Shearman (ed.), Russian Foreign Policy Since 1990 (Boulder and Oxford: Westview, 1995), pp. 272–4. Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 22. Henry E. Hale, ‘Independence and Integration in the Caspian Basin’, SAIS Review, Vol. 19, No. 1 (1999), p. 175. Hale (ibid., pp. 173–4) argues that ‘by far the most prominent alternative route would lead from Baku through Georgia ending up at Ceyhan’. Obviously, not only Azerbaijani but also Kazakh oil can be transported through the pipeline on Turkey’s territory. In an effort to turn the Baku–Ceyhan route into an alternative not only for Azerbaijan, but for Central Asia as well, the US began to push in 1997 the idea of an oil pipeline that would pass under the Caspian Sea, winning the backing of both Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan. Washington Post, 5 October 1998, p. A18 based on data from the US Information Agency, 19 November 1997. Also see Amoco web page, 29 June 1998 (http://www.amoco. com). On this subject see Charles W. Blandy, ‘Oil is Not the Only Stake’, CSRC Report S28 (Sandhurst: The Royal Military Academy, February 1997); and idem, ‘The Caspian: A Catastrophe in the Making’, CSRC Report S32 (Sandhurst: Royal Military Academy, September 1997). For a discussion of the American policy towards Central Asia and Caucasus, see US House of Representatives, Committee on International Relations, Staff Report, Major Setbacks Looming for American Interests in the Caucasus Region, 6 September 1996. Also see Ariel Cohen, ‘US Policy in the Caucasus and Central Asia: Building a New “Silk Road” to Economic Prosperity’, Heritage Foundation Backgrounder, 1132, 24 July 1997. Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 30. For example, the US Government ‘overlooked’ the participation of the American firm Chevron in oil swap projects with Iran ‘as a temporary measure pending the completion of the CPC pipeline via Russia’, Hale, ‘Independence and Integration’, p. 173. Nevertheless, in a report to Congress in July 1998 Jan Kalicki, US Ombudsman for Energy and Commercial Co-operation with the New Independent States, declared that although ‘the US Government welcomes signs of positive change in Iran, [. . .] we oppose the construction of pipelines from the region to or through Iran. Iran is a competitor, not a partner [. . .] when it comes to oil and gas exports. It is against our energy security interests for more oil and gas to go through the strait of Hormuz.’ For the full text of the report see BISNIS (Business Information Service for the Newly Independent States) home page (http://www.BISNIS.com). Turkmenistan, Pakistan and Afghanistan (Taliban) together with (the American firm) Unocol had signed an agreement to build a pipeline through war-torn Afghanistan to Pakistan. Although construction was due to start in 1998, after the US bombing of suspected terrorist sites within Taliban-controlled areas,

28

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION

46

47

48

49

50 51 52

53 54

Unocol pulled out of its participation, leaving the deal stranded. See RFE/RL Newsline, 27 October 1997, 8 June 1998 and 21 August 1998. For an analysis of the connection between development and transportation of Caspian oil and the Russian foreign policy towards regional conflicts see Andrei Shoumikhin, ‘The Chechen Crisis and the Future of Russia’, Comparative Strategy, No. 15 (1996), pp. 1–2; Fedorov, ‘Russia’s Policies’; Ariel Cohen, ‘The “New Great Game”: Pipeline Politics in Eurasia’, Heritage Foundation Backgrounder, No. 1065, 25 January 1996; Rosemarie Forsythe, The Politics of Oil in the Caucasus and Central Asia (London: IISS, 1996); Stephen Blank, Energy, Economics and Security in Central Asia: Russia and Its Rivals (Carlise, PA: US Army War College, 1995); Hale, ‘Independence and Integration’, pp. 163–89. Kasenov, ‘Russia and Transcaucasia’, p. 3. For a view that Russia is actively exploiting the turmoil in the Caucasus to undermine the construction of the Baku–Ceyhan pipeline see ‘Emboldened by Iraq “Victory”, Russia Intensifies Effort to Undermine Azerbaijan’, Caspian Watch, No. 9, 26 November 1997; and ‘Russia Makes its Move in Yeltsin’s Pipeline War’, Caspian Watch, No. 10, 12 February 1998. Blank, ‘Russia, the Gulf and Central Asia’, p. 7. Also see, Laura Le Cornu, ‘Azerbaijan’s September Crisis: An Analysis of the Causes and Implications’, FSS Project Briefing No. 1 (London: RIIA, January 1995). Many regional specialists and Caucasian officials believed that Russia was behind the coup that replaced President Elchibey of Azerbaijan because he adopted a strong pro-Turkish and anti-Russian stance. See Elizabeth Fuller, ‘Azerbaijan’s June Revolution’, RFE/RL Research Report, 13 August 1993, p. 27; Thomas Goltz, ‘Hidden Russian Hand’, Foreign Policy, No. 92 (autumn 1993), pp. 92–116; S. Rob Sobbani, ‘Russia Tests the US in Azerbaijan’, Wall Street Journal, 28 June 1994; Hale, ‘Independence and Integration’, pp. 165–6. Gazprom is the biggest natural gas production and exportation company in both Russia and the world. 30 per cent of the company is still owned by the Russian state and the rest was privatised after the collapse of the Soviet Union. With the July 1998 agreement, Armenia agreed to transfer the control of Armenia’s national gas distribution system to ArmRosGazprom, a joint venture owned by the Armenian state-owned gas enterprise Armgaz (45 per cent), Gazprom (45 per cent), and Italy’s Itera (10 per cent). In return the ArmRosGazprom agreed to facilitate Russian natural gas exports to and through Armenia. NG-Stsenarii, No. 9 (August 1994), pp. 4–5. Quoted in Blandy, The Caucasus Region, p. 9. Fedorov, ‘Russia’s Policies’, p. 4. The decision to create a contact group and to hold an international conference to facilitate solution for the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict was taken during the OSCE Foreign Ministers’ Meeting in March 1992. Later on, in July 1992, representatives of 11 countries (Armenia, Azerbaijan, USA, Russian Federation, Turkey, Germany, Italy, France, Sweden, Czech Republic and Belarus) met in Minsk to discuss the situation. During the meeting, the participants decided to establish a permanent initiative under the trilateral joint presidency of the US, Russia and France. The ascendancy of Caspian oil to the top of Russia’s foreign policy priorities is traced in Forsythe, The Politics of Oil, and Hale, ‘Independence and Integration’, pp. 175–7. Freedom Support Act, P.L. 102–511, Sec. 907, ‘Restriction on Assistance to Azerbaijan’, 102nd Congress, 2nd Session, 1992.

29

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION 55 Shimizu, IDE Spot Survey, p. 26. 56 ‘Redirection of US Policy in the Caspian Basin’, Casey Institute of the Center for Security Policy, Publication No. 96–C 94, 1 October 1996, p. 2; and ‘HouseSenate Conference Must Strike Proper Balance for American Interests’, Caspian Watch, No. 4, 17 September 1996, p. 1; ‘Congress Must Do the Right Thing by US Interests in the Caspian Basin’, Caspian Watch, No. 3, 1 August 1996, p. 1. 57 S. Rob Sobhani, ‘The Great Game in Play in Azerbaijan’, The Washington Times, 20 February 1997; and ‘Silk Road Legislation Opens New Opportunities for US Strategic, Commercial Interests in the Caspian Basin’, Caspian Watch, No. 8, 23 October 1997, p. 2. 58 The ‘early oil’ is a new terminology in the petroleum business, which came into existence in relation to Caspian oil. While the full oil production capacity of the Caspian Region would reach up to 40 billion ton over 30 years with 9 or 10 floating platforms over the sea, the only existing platform in the region at present could produce a maximum 4 million ton in total. As the region is a landlocked area, the operating companies in the region decided to utilise this oil, dubbed as ‘early oil’, in order to test the possible export options before going into full exploitation of the region’s reaches. 59 New York Times, 22 October 1998. Also see Caspian Watch, No. 10, p. 1. 60 EIA Fact Sheet, p. 7. 61 The GUAM Group was established during 1996–97 as an informal gathering between Georgia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Moldova, hence the name, to coordinate their policies regarding regional developments. The Group expanded to include Uzbekistan (becoming GUUAM) during meetings in Washington, held concurrently with NATO’s fiftieth anniversary summit in April 1999, simultaneously establishing a charter opting out of the Commonwealth of Independent States’ Collective Security Treaty and encompassing military cooperation with NATO. 62 Michael Lelyveld, ‘Caucasus: US Military Presence in Caspian Appears Inevitable’, RFE/RL Newsline, 4 February 1999. Already in December 1997, Georgia, the Ukraine and Azerbaijan announced their intention to create a joint battalion to protect the Transcaucasian transport corridor. See Liz Fuller, ‘Introducing the Other GUAM’, End Note in RFE/RL Newsline, 1 December 1997. 63 For the full text of the ‘Ankara Declaration’, see (httpl/www.mfa.gov.tr/default2. asp?param=/GRUPH/ Release/1998/Ankara.htm). 64 Milliyet, 2 November 1998. 65 See the text of the speech delivered by the Special Advisor to the President for Caspian Basin Energy Diplomacy, Ambassador Richard Morningstar, at the CERA Conference, Washington, DC, 7 December 1998, p 1. Also see remarks by Jan Kalicki, US Ombudsman for Energy and Commercial Co-operation with the Newly Independent States, at the Conference ‘Caspian Pipelines: Building Solutions’, Washington, DC, 9 December 1998, pp. 2–3. The main problem with the Baku–Ceyhan route is its estimated cost of $2.8 to $3.5 billion. While the US government is lobbying hard for the route because of political and strategic reasons, US firms are reluctant to follow because of financial considerations and Turkey’s offers of concessions on taxes and transit fees have so far not satisfied them. For disagreements between US government officials and oil companies see Michael Lelyveld, ‘Caucasus: Deadline Nears on Oil Transit Routes’, RFE/RL Newsline, 16 June 1998; Stephen Kinzer, ‘Caspian Oil Pipeline Suffers a Setback’, New York Times, 28 November 1998; Robert Lyle, ‘Caspian: Views Differ on Viability of Oil Pipelines’, RFE/RL Newsline, 4 March 1999.

30

THE GEO-POLITICS OF THE CASPIAN REGION 66 Stephen Kinzer, New York Times, 22 October 1998. 67 Tyler Marshall, ‘Route of Caspian Sea Oil Pipeline Debated’, Los Angeles Times, 3 December 1998. 68 In addition to actual flooding of arable land, an overall population of 700,000 people live in the danger zone and need to be evacuated. It is predicted that by the year 2010 the water level will rise by a further 25 metres. See Blandy, The Caucasus Region, p. 25. 69 Of about 50,000 ships per year that pass through the Straits, 60 per cent are already tankers. If Novorossiisk is chosen as the outlet for the main AIOC line, to which must be added the oil already coming from Kazakhstan by road, the projected CPC line between Tengiz and Novorossiisk, and the Baku–Supsa line, the number of tankers will increase sharply causing more risks and delays. See Patrick Crow, ‘Pipeline Politics’, Oil and Gas Journal, Vol. 96, No. 11, 16 March 1998. 70 One of the problems in the Bosphorus is that it is suitable only for ships of less then 150 metres in length, while the most used tankers for oil transportation nowadays is somewhere between 250 and 300 metres. If Turkey tries to decrease the number of ships passing through the Straits, then their size will increase, causing repeated closures to other traffic. See John Naegele, ‘Turkey: Caspian Oil Presents Challenge to the Straits’, RFE/RL Newsline, 23 June 1998. 71 Forsythe, The Politics of Oil, p. 47.

31

2

Oil and Gas in the Economies of the Caspian Region Paul Rivlin

This chapter examines the role of oil and gas in areas bordering on, or close to, the Caspian Sea. The countries concerned are (in alphabetical order) Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Russia, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. Armenia, Georgia, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan do not border the Caspian Sea but they share that region’s hydrocarbon basin, the routes through which its gas and oil may be exported, or both. In its International Energy Outlook 1998, the Energy Information Administration (EIA) of the US Department of Energy provided estimates of proven (actual) and potential (possible) oil reserves in the Caspian Sea region (see Table 2.1). These showed that the potential reserves were over five times the level of proven ones, and that over half of total oil reserves are in Kazakhstan. The total of proven reserves equalled 3.1 per cent of world proved reserves in 1997, similar in size to those of the North Sea or the US.1 Potential reserves, estimated at 171 bn barrels equalled about 25 per cent of proven reserves in the Middle East. Between 1993 and 1998, oil production in the main Caspian producers increased by nearly 20 per cent. In 1998 it equalled 1.3 per cent of world production while its share in world reserves equalled 6.1 per cent (see Table 2.2). In 1990, before the USSR broke up, Azerbaijan had the largest oil production in the region, but resources had been directed by the Soviet regime to other regions. As a result, much of the oil and gas in the Caspian Sea region has not been developed. Proven gas reserves in the region are much larger than those of oil. Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan each rank among the world’s 20 largest proven reserve holders. Proven reserves in the region 32

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

have been estimated by the EIA at between 236 and 337 trillion cubic feet (tcf), similar to those of North America. Possible gas reserves could be equal to 328 tcf, but these are located in more remote regions of Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. World proven reserves in 1997 were estimated at 5,112 tcf, of which 1,726 tcf (33.7 per cent) was in the Middle East and 349 tcf (6.8 per cent) was in North Africa. Between 1993 and 1998, gas production declined by 48 per cent, as a result of lower output in Turkmenistan (see Table 2.3). In 1998, Caspian gas production accounted for 2.7 per cent of world output, while reserves came to 5.1 per cent of world reserves.2 A number of problems exist in the exploitation of these resources. Firstly, the countries of the region have experienced severe economic difficulties since they gained their independence from the Soviet Union. Between 1989 and 1997, GDP fell in all of the countries in the Caspian Sea region. The fall ranged from almost 14 per cent in Uzbekistan to 71 per cent in Georgia. In the Russian Federation (RF) it declined by 42.5 per cent and in Kazakhstan by nearly 38 per cent.3 These large falls were due to military conflicts within and between some of the countries of the region and also to the immense difficulties that they had in restructuring following the collapse of the Soviet Union. As a result, demand for energy in the region fell and thus increased the amount available for export. Table 2.4 shows the annual rate of growth of GDP since 1992. Second, the region has experienced serious political instability. The armed conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan over NagornoKarabakh resulted in thousands of deaths and the displacement of more than one million people. The separatist struggles in Abkhazia and South Ossetia in Georgia resulted in massive population displacement. Russia has faced political and economic crises as well as two rounds of war in Chechnya. Tajikistan has gone through a civil war. Uzbekistan is concerned about the involvement of native Uzbeks in the conflict in Afghanistan. Kazakhstan faces tensions between its two almost equal major ethnic components – Russians and Kazakhs. In addition to these ethno-political conflicts, Russia considers that the Caspian should be developed under a common programme, rather than separately by each littoral state. Third, the region is dependent on its neighbours, Turkey, Iran, the RF, Afghanistan and China in order to export oil and gas. Pipelines have to cross the territory of some of these neighbours and this, in current geo-political circumstances presents a serious challenge. Existing routes go through Russian territory and had their origins in the Soviet period when links within the Soviet Union were the priority. Caspian Sea countries are linked to each other by pipelines, but only one route links the region with world markets (in Europe) and 33

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

that runs from Kazakhstan to Russia. Most of the existing pipelines terminate at Novorossiisk on the Russian Black Sea coast and oil is then transported by tanker through the Bosphorus before reaching the Mediterranean, which is ecologically and politically sensitive. Given that oil markets in Asia are forecast to grow faster than those in Europe, it may make sense to route the oil east rather than west. The options are therefore pipelines through Turkey, Russia, Iran or China. Each presents a different challenge. Fourth, the US is strongly opposed to the development of pipelines across Iranian territory. In 1996, the US enacted the Iran and Libya Sanctions Act which restricted the amount that a company could invest in either of those countries and makes those investing in Iranian or partIranian pipelines subject to US sanctions. Iran has a relatively welldeveloped oil and gas infrastructure, including sections of pipelines that could be used to transport Caspian oil to the Persian Gulf. Iran also has a role as a littoral state on the Caspian. It borders Azerbaijan and Turkmenistan and has extensive trading links with them.4 Countries in the region do not want to rely exclusively on the Russian route, for fear that it could be closed for political and or economic reasons. This is of particular significance given that they are potential competitors with Russia for oil and gas markets in Western Europe. Turkey has been in dispute with the oil companies British Petroleum (BP) and Amoco (which merged to form BP Amoco) because of their unwillingness to back the development of a pipeline between Baku in Azerbaijan and Ceyhan, on Turkey’s Mediterranean coast, north of Syria. BP stated that it did not want to rush a decision given the uncertainties in the region.5 An alternative route, shorter and cheaper, to Georgia’s Black Sea port of Supsa had been suggested. The chairman of Chevron, the US oil company, a leading participant in Caspian oil development said that because of recent uncertainty about the size of reserves in the region, the shorter and cheaper route was more desirable. Turkey pressed very hard for the pipeline to be built to Ceyhan and called on the US government to support it. The latter has announced tax incentives for companies investing in the Turkish route and the Turkish government stated that it would not allow the Bosphorus to become a pipeline for Caspian crude.6 Much of the oil and gas reserves in the region lie under the Caspian Sea. Although it has not yet slowed investment, the conflict over legal rights to drill for and exploit oil between the littoral states offshore presents serious problems. The rising water level of the Caspian Sea has flooded or threatened to flood coastal onshore oil fields many of which are surrounded by oil ‘lakes’ that resulted from inadequate environmental management in the past. On 29 October 1998 a 30-year agreement was signed between 34

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

Turkey and Turkmenistan for the construction of a gas pipeline from Baku to Ceyhan with an eventual capacity of 30 bcm. Turkey undertook to buy and transport to Europe 16 bcm of Turkmen gas. The deal was part of the US-sponsored East–West Energy Corridor and has been the subject of intense debate both in the US and in the Caspian Region. Commercial interests have tended to favour pipelines through Russia and/or Iran on the grounds that they were cheaper and therefore less risky, especially given the uncertainties associated with the Caspian fields. The US government has been accused of taking a political approach in favouring the pipeline through Turkey, favouring an ally for political rather than for economic reasons.7 The Turkish Straits also present problems. Oil sent by pipeline to the Russian Black Sea port of Novorossiisk is then shipped by tanker for the Mediterranean. The number of tankers passing through the Straits poses the danger of collisions, a threat to human and maritime life. Turkey is therefore opposed to increased use of the sea route and has been pressing for the construction of pipelines across its territory. The International Energy Agency (IEA) has estimated that it would cost up to $200 bn to develop and transport the region’s oil and gas. The governments of the region are looking to foreign companies to fund these developments. The international oil and gas companies have a wide range of choices as to where they can invest, both within the Caspian Region and elsewhere. Governments in the region are therefore in competition with each other and countries in other parts of the world for investment. By the beginning of 1999, cumulative direct foreign investment in the region totalled $5 bn, of which $1 bn took place in 1998. Future investment expectations from contracts already signed total over $60 bn.8 Most of the foreign investment that has been made since independence has gone to Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan. This is partly due to the fact that both countries have made progress in creating an environment that will encourage investment. Kazakhstan has developed laws covering all kinds of investments; Azerbaijan has concentrated on laws to encourage production sharing agreements. Nevertheless, much more needs to be done to develop the regulatory, fiscal and customs systems in all the countries of the region. In 1990 the European Union (EU) proposed the creation of a European Energy Charter in order to encourage investment and trade in the energy sector. In 1991, a political declaration was issued. In 1994 the Energy Charter Treaty was signed giving legal backbone to the political declaration. In 1998 the Treaty came into force with 49 member states, including Armenia, Azerbaijan, Russia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, as well as the EU Commission. The Treaty provides legal protection for energy investment, applies World Trade Organization (WTO) 35

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

rules to trade in energy products, materials and related equipment, and provides for legally binding conciliation procedures for conflicts relating to the transit of energy and energy products. COUNTRY BY COUNTRY SURVEY

Armenia Armenia is one of the smaller countries in the region in terms of population and the size of its economy (see Table 2.5). The latter is dominated by agriculture, which accounts for about 40 per cent of GDP, and industry, which takes about 30 per cent. Commerce and other services account for the remaining 30 per cent. Armenia has been one of the slowest economic reformers in the region partly because of the six-year long conflict in Nagoro-Karabakh. Since 1994, the government has started to reform the economy, introducing a foreign investment law, reducing restrictions on foreign trade and improving the infrastructure. The rate of economic growth increased in 1998 after a weak performance in 1997 and inflation declined. Armenia has virtually no oil or gas but is strategically located as a transit centre for the region. Oil exports from Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan could pass through Armenian territory on their way to Turkey and other countries in Europe. Azerbaijan In 1994 agriculture accounted for about 40 per cent of production and employment in Azerbaijan. Since 1992 agriculture has suffered from bad weather, the conflict in Nagoro-Karabakh, inefficient irrigation, and water pollution. About 55 per cent of the population live in urban areas and one million refugees from war zones have fled to the capital, almost doubling its population. Azerbaijan has been slow to introduce economic reforms because of the conflict in the Karabakh region and because of the lack of a stable government. The conflict resulted in the government losing control of over 20 per cent of the country’s territory and in the creation of a huge refugee problem. Between 1991 and 1997, GDP fell by 55 per cent. The economy only began to recover in 1996. Since then the rate of growth of GDP has been accelerating, but in the current account the balance has deteriorated. In December 1996, a three-year agreement was signed with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for assistance in funding the transition to a market economy. Progress in privatising enterprises has been slow with the exception of small companies. 36

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

The economy is dominated by agriculture (20 per cent of GDP) and by traditional industries (25 per cent of GDP). Oil has played an increasingly important role since independence: according to EIA, in 1991 its share in national income was 2.6 per cent and in 1997, 13 per cent. In 1997, exports of oil came to $480 m, chemicals, petroleum and plastics to $60 m, cotton $123 m, food $55 m and machinery $37 m. Azerbaijan is the oldest producer of oil in the region, and during the Second World War, when it was part of the USSR, it produced 500,000 barrels a day. Azerbaijan’s main oil resources are offshore but it also has onshore fields. Production has fallen in recent years due to a lack of investment, antiquated technology and conflicts within the country and with its neighbours. Despite this, five foreign consortia are working on projects in the country, all with the state-owned oil company, SOCAR. Azerbaijan has done better than any other Caspian country in attracting foreign investment to its oil industry. This has resulted in a sharp increase in foreign investment from $13 m in 1993 to $546 m in 1996. Its legal and fiscal codes are attractive and it has managed to cope with the conflicting pressures of Russia, Iran, Turkey and the US. Oil output fell between 1994 and 1996 and has increased since then. In 1998, SOCAR suffered from the decline in international oil prices, from smuggling of petrol into the country from Georgia and Russia (where petrol prices were lower) and from payments arrears by its customers, which included the state electricity corporation. The major issue facing the future development of the oil and gas industry is the question of pipelines and export routes. The conflicts in Nagorno-Karabakh, Chechnya and Abkhazia, in Georgia, all affect decision-making about export routes. SOCAR has decided that in the short term, its oil will be exported first through the Russian Black Sea port of Novorossiisk and second through Georgia to its Black Sea port of Supsa. These routes are meant to provide for oil that will come onstream until 2003 or 2004. For oil coming onstream afterwards, the options are a pipeline from Baku to Ceyhan in Turkey, to Poti in Georgia and to Novorossiisk in Russia. There have been delays in reaching agreement on the route of the proposed ‘Main Export Pipeline’ to be built by a group made up of the Western consortium, the Azerbaijan International Operating Company (AIOC) and SOCAR. In December 1998, a committee made up of representatives of the two groups and the Azeri government postponed again a decision on the route. The companies involved were reluctant to commit themselves to invest large funds while international oil prices were low and while uncertainty prevailed regarding the scale of Caspian Sea reserves. The governments of Azerbaijan, Turkey and the US want the pipeline to be built between Baku and Ceyhan in Turkey. This view is essentially political, designed to limit 37

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

the number of pipelines crossing Russian territory but it does not have financial backing.9 In the early 1990s, 60 per cent of the country’s primary energy supply came from gas, making it one of the most intensive users of gas in the world. About 40 per cent of this gas was imported from Turkmenistan, but there was a fall as a result of payments difficulties. Gas production is forecast to increase after 2000, when large offshore oil projects will come onstream providing a supply of associated gas. In 1997 and 1998 investment in the energy sector was one of the main factors behind the rapid acceleration of economic growth. Georgia Georgia’s economy is dominated by agriculture (about 28 per cent of GDP), trade (22 per cent) and industry (10 per cent). There is a large hidden or black economy which is one reason why the share of national income taken in taxes is low and the government suffers fiscal problems. The problems of economic adjustment have been hampered by the reliance of large enterprises on cheap, imported energy and subsidies. Economic growth slowed in 1998 as a result of the acute economic crisis in Russia. Georgia has no oil and very small gas resources but is important as a transit route for oil and gas. An oil pipeline runs from the Azeri port and oil centre of Baku to Supsa on Georgia’s Black Sea coast. Georgia and Azerbaijan signed an agreement in 1996 to pump oil through the pipeline and to expand both pipeline and port facilities. Disputes with Armenia, and instability in Georgia are hindering these projects. Kazakhstan The economy of Kazakhstan, even more than that of the other republics of the USSR, was developed to serve the needs of the Union as a whole. Therefore, the break-up of the Soviet Union led to severe dislocation because it broke many backward and forward linkages between the economies of Kazakhstan and other republics in the former Soviet Union (FSU). As a result trade fell with consequent effects on orders of factories and levels of income and employment. There was a loss of transfer payments that had been in effect subsidies paid by the other republics to Kazakhstan. On the eve of independence, up to 90 per cent of Kazakhstan’s industry was operated by all-Union ministries in Moscow. Most were vertically integrated with industries in other republics which meant, for example, that Kazakhstani oil was refined in Russia.10 38

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

Since independence, links with countries outside the FSU have been gradually developing and, together with reforms inside the country, the economy has been stabilised and growth restarted. Annual rates of inflation of over 1,000 per cent a year prevailed between 1992 and 1994 as a result of monetary expansion in the ruble area dominated by Russia. With the introduction of economic reforms, inflation was rapidly reduced. In order to adjust to the ending of transfers from the USSR, Kazakhstan’s public spending was cut sharply between 1992 and 1995. In 1993, Kazakhstan issued its own currency breaking away from the inflationary ruble zone. In the same year Kazakhstan negotiated agreements with the International Monetary Fund which helped stabilise the economy. Kazakhstan was, in terms of territory, the second-largest republic in the Soviet Union. It has a huge amount of agricultural land and a large volume of natural resources including minerals and oil and gas. Very little progress has been made in the privatisation of 8,000 sovkhozes and kolkhozes (state and collective farms respectively) set up during the Soviet era. Agriculture also relied on the FSU republics as a market and as a source of vital imports. The dependence on trade with republics in the FSU has meant that the economy has been relatively open to foreign trade. Kazakhstan’s crude oil and natural gas resources are large but it only has a small refining capacity, which was especially serious given the low quality of Kazakhstan’s crude. This is also the result of the specialisation in the FSU, under which production was concentrated in the west of Kazakhstan, but two out of the three oil refineries in the country were in the east and these two are not connected by pipeline to the oilfields. This meant that most of the country’s oil output has been shipped to Russian refineries with Kazakhstan’s refineries receiving oil supplies from Russian oil fields in Siberia. Plans have been announced for an internal pipeline and to encourage Western investment in gas and oil producing and processing industries. The availability of hydrocarbons and phosphates have permitted the development of the chemical and petrochemical industry. Cumulative foreign investment in the hydrocarbon sector by early 1999 was $3 bn in 20 joint venture projects in 40 different fields.11 There is considerable uncertainty about the size of Kazakhstan’s oil reserves, with very different estimates available from government and oil company sources. The government claims that there are huge reserves – 73 bn barrels – but commercial sources are much more cautious. Kazakhstan is placing emphasis on developing its oil rather than gas resources: at present it is important as a transit country for Turkmenistan’s gas. The size of reserves is debatable and the size of the gas transmission pipeline network is small, at about 2,000 km.12 39

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

The main oil field is the Tengiz field, in the western part of the country, which is considered by many to be the most important discovery since Pruhoe Bay in Alaska in the 1970s. Tengiz’s reserves have been estimated at 10–20 bn barrels and it has been exploited by a consortium established by the former Soviet regime in the late 1980s, which includes the US oil company Chevron. Production began in 1993 and in 1997 output reached 140,000 mb/d. An eventual level of 750,000 mb/d is envisaged. The second is a condensates field located near Uralsk, close to the Russian border. It has 8–10 bn barrels of light gas liquid. In 1997, another international consortium, produced 50,000 b/d of condensates and crude. The third field is offshore in the Caspian Sea and six foreign companies have shares in it. The complicated geography of the Caspian and legal disputes with Russia are among the factors that have clouded its future. Kazakhstan’s oil industry suffers from a number of weaknesses. Firstly, the country’s administration is weak and corrupt. Secondly, the oil industry is short of skilled manpower following the exodus from the country of many ethnic Russians who provided skills and management. Finally, the country’s geo-political position has meant that it is dependent on its neighbours in order to export its oil and gas. Kazakhstan’s oil and gas resources will only be exploited when pipelines are available to move the product to market. The construction of the pipelines is a political as well as an economic issue. Russia, Turkey and Iran are all interested in Kazakh oil and gas pipelines crossing their territory. The routes chosen for them will largely determine the export destinations for Kazakh products. Russia includes Kazakhstan within its sphere of influence and has been pressing for pipelines from Tengiz and elsewhere to cross its territory. The Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) was established in 1992 and has the following shareholders: the Russian government (24 per cent); the Kazakh government (19 per cent); the Kazakh state owned gas company (1.75 per cent); the Oman government (7 per cent); and the balance owned by western oil companies. It is building pipelines through Russia. The CPC project is the closest to fruition. Other plans – to build a pipeline through Iran to Kharg Island – are just that: plans because of US opposition. Coal still dominates the production and consumption of energy, accounting for about 50 per cent of primary energy consumption in 1996. Kyrgyzstan Kyrgyzstan has an ethnically divided population and has faced unrest as a result of harsh socio-economic conditions. It is also landlocked. 40

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

About 35 per cent of GDP originates in agriculture, even though the amount of arable land is limited. Kyrgyzstan has deposits of coal, tin and other metals including gold. As in other former republics of the Soviet Union, industries were developed to serve the interests of the USSR as a whole and so the Kyrgyz economy was very unintegrated, relying on imports from and exports to other Soviet republics. With the breakdown of the USSR these links were disrupted and the economy suffered accordingly. Another legacy of the Soviet Union was the underdevelopment of the transport system, especially railways. Efforts have been made since independence to improve the very poor telecommunication system. Kyrgyzstan experienced one of the fastest reforms in the region. Price liberalisation began in 1991 and was accelerated in 1992. In 1993, a stand-by agreement was negotiated with the IMF and in 1995 the Fund made $US88 m available in aid following the introduction of an economic stabilisation programme and a structural adjustment programme. The country has seven developed oil fields and two oil/gas fields but as a result of the complex geology, recovery rates are low. Gas production is also minimal and so it imports from neighbouring countries, but as a result of financial difficulties, it has failed to make payments on time and supplies have been interrupted. Tajikistan Tajikistan is the poorest country in the region. The economy is dominated by agriculture and about 70 per cent of the population is rural. It was transformed under the USSR from a rural and nomadic base to one based on mechanised agriculture and raw material processing. Despite large investments by the USSR, which involved transfers from other republics, Tajikistan remained poorer than many of the other states in the union. Another important feature was the relatively low reliance of the economy on trade with other republics of the USSR. Despite this, Tajikistan experienced large income losses when its foreign trade was affected by the collapse of the USSR. The 1992–93 civil war did enormous damage to the economy. The government raised wages and subsidies in order to protect the population from some of the economic effects of the war but this led to a loss of control over the budget and over monetary policy. Inflation accelerated from 350 per cent a year in 1994 to 609 per cent in 1995, despite the fact that in most of the FSU inflation was decelerating. Positive national income growth has only been recorded since 1997. Mining is also significant with gold being one of the main products. All metals mined in Tajikistan have been processed abroad and one of the government’s aims is to increase value added at home. 41

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

Tajikistan has negligible oil reserves and production, but has about one trillion cubic feet in natural gas reserves. Production is, however, minimal and gas is imported from Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. Hydroelectricity is the main source of power. A small number of large industrial plants dominate the manufacturing sector and attempts at privatisation have been limited. The transport and telecommunications systems are relatively backward and services, including banking, are underdeveloped. Turkmenistan Turkmenistan is the second largest Central Asian republic in terms of area. It suffers from extremes of temperature in summer and winter and receives little rainfall. About 55 per cent of the population is rural and agriculture accounts for about 40 per cent of the national income. As in other Central Asian republics, independence resulted in the exodus of thousands of ethnic Russians and thus a huge loss of technical and management skills which have been hard to replace. Turkmenistan was one of the main beneficiaries of transfers within the USSR prior to its independence in 1991. This was partly due to the weakness of its economy which ceased growing in 1989. A major weakness was the reliance on cotton production using poor cultivation methods and over irrigation. Another was its reliance on exports of gas to other Soviet republics only. With the introduction of world prices in the FSU gas trade in 1992, existing customers found themselves unable to pay. Alternative markets were hard to find and so export revenues fell. Turkmenistan was, on the eve of independence, one of the poorest economies in the USSR and remained so in 1997 (see Table 2.5). Although it has not been affected by internal conflict, it was one of the slow reformers. Prices were gradually reformed after 1991 but the lax monetary policies meant that inflation was faster than in any other member of the FSU. As late as 1996 inflation reached nearly 1,000 per cent a year and in 1997 it was estimated at 84 per cent – the fastest rate in the FSU except for Tajikistan.13 In 1998, the first year since independence with positive economic growth, the rate reached 18 per cent. Turkmenistan has the largest proven and potential gas reserves in the region. Before the break-up of the USSR it was the fourth largest gas exporter in the world after Russia, the US and Canada. In 1995, gas exports of 26.5 bcm accounted for about 80 per cent of its exports to other CIS states and 60 per cent of its exports outside the CIS, or about 75 per cent of its total exports. The economy is also very gas intensive: gas accounted for 75 per cent of total final energy use in 1993. Nearly all of the country’s electricity generation is gas powered. About 85–90 42

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

per cent of gas output has been exported, with 80–85 per cent of this going to FSU countries and the rest to European countries. Conflicts with Russia over the amount that could be transmitted through Russian pipelines and over payments systems have affected exports.14 Estimates of the reserve to production ratio for Turkmenistan gas vary from 20–40 years at one end and 300 years at the other. Turkmenistan’s hydrocarbon policies have been far from clear; its tax and legal systems are underdeveloped and this has led to contracts being cancelled. In 1997, there was some improvement with the announcement of a new legal and fiscal regime and opinion among oil and gas companies is optimistic. The development of the hydrocarbon sector is therefore dependent on the construction of pipelines through neighbouring countries. One plan is the Central Asian Oil Pipeline Project (CAOPP) which would run from the Turkmenistan–Uzbekistan border into Afghanistan and then to a Pakistani port on the Arabian Sea 1,667 km long. Among the problems facing CAOPP is the fact that Turkmen and Uzbek oil resources are not big enough to justify the project and that nearly 700 km would have to go through war-torn Afghanistan. Another possibility is that Turkmenistan be linked to the proposed Kazakhstan– Azerbaijan network. This would be much cheaper than CAOPP and Turkmenistan’s ultimate markets would be determined by the way in which the network developed. Turkmenistan is in dispute with Azerbaijan over offshore exploitation of the Caspian fields. It has reached compromises with Kazakhstan and Iran and may be willing to do so with Azerbaijan. There has been little foreign investment, mainly because the government has scared off potential investors with rather heavyhanded policies. Uzbekistan Under the Soviet Union, Uzbekistan was rapidly industrialised. After independence, in 1991, the industrial sector suffered from the loss of export markets, but a domestic recovery led by housing construction helped the economy grow. In 1993, after experiencing massive inflation within the ruble zone, Uzbekistan, like many other FSU states, created its own currency, something that helped it to sharply reduce inflation in 1995 and 1996. About 40 per cent of the workforce is in agriculture, producing about 30 per cent of the national income. Agriculture relies on irrigation using river water. Cotton is the main crop and export. Most manufacturing industry is based on processing agricultural raw materials. In 1997, Uzbekistan produced 185,000 and consumed 170,000 43

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

b/d of oil. In 1989 it signed its first joint venture with a foreign company. Discussions are going on with other foreign groups and a surplus for export of 60–70,000 b/d is likely. This would make it feasible for the country to be linked with CAOPP or another Central Asian export network. Gas is a much more important sector than oil. With the second largest gas reserves in the Caspian, Uzbekistan was one of the world’s largest exporters of gas. It is also the only country in the region that has increased gas production since independence and thus avoided the need for large-scale imports. Output rose from 1.5 tcf in 1992 to 1.7 tcf in 1996, making Uzbekistan the eighth largest producer in the world. Gas exports have been constrained by the success of programmes to increase domestic use of gas in order to reduce oil consumption. They have also been affected by the lack of alternatives to the Central Asia/Central Russia pipeline; as a result Uzbekistan does not have options for exports that are independent of Russia. Uzbekistan aims to become a net exporter of oil and gas in the long term. This will be done through joint ventures and production sharing agreements with foreign companies. A total of 32 new oil and gas fields have been identified for development, 18 for rehabilitation and 9 blocks for exploration. In 1995 a total of $385 m was invested in the energy sector by foreign companies and in 1996 the total came to $545 m.15 Gas exports are not expected to be large enough to justify a dedicated (Uzbekistan only) pipeline. Consideration has therefore been given to joining Kazakh and/or Turkmen projects. Uzbekistan has a relatively good infrastructure, a well-educated labour force and a relatively stable political system. Despite these factors, the investment regime has not encouraged foreign companies into the country. OIL AND GAS SUPPLY FORECASTS FOR THE CASPIAN SEA REGION

Oil Supply Forecasts The IEA (World Energy Outlook 1998) and EIA (International Energy Outlook 1998) are the two organisations that provide forecasts for the period up to 2020. These forecasts are by their very nature uncertain and much of this is due to the poor state of knowledge about the region’s energy resources. Furthermore, forecasts for the Caspian Sea region are included in those for transition economies that include also Albania, Bulgaria, Poland, Romania, the Slovak Republic and the states of former Yugoslavia. Both agencies forecast a surplus of supply over demand in the 44

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION

region until the year 2020 (see Table 2.6). In both forecasts, the surplus available for export increases until the year 2010 and then falls. This is due to increasing demand and, from 2010, declining supply in the IEA. In the EIA forecast it is due to increasing demand and increasing supply, albeit at a slower rate than demand after 2010. The difference between the IEA and the EIA is that the latter is much more optimistic about supply in the region. This optimism, or relative optimism coincides with the strong political backing which the US has given to the development of pipelines in the region which would avoid Russian and Iranian territory. According to the IEA, the Caspian Sea region will account for between 3.3 per cent and 3.9 per cent of world supply in 2020, or between 2.8 per cent and 3.2 per cent if unidentified, unconventional sources of oil are added to supply.16 The IEA has made detailed forecasts for oil output in the region, which are given in Table 2.7. The table shows that in the ‘high case’, in which investment is encouraged by relatively high international oil prices, exports reach 177.9 m tons or 3.6 mb/d a year in 2020. In the ‘low case’, investments are limited by relatively low international prices and exports reach 148.2 m tons a year or almost 3 mb/d. The main difference between the two forecasts is that for Azerbaijan the high case forecast for exports is 38 per cent higher than the low case. In Kazakhstan, which is the largest producer the difference is only 3 per cent and is in the opposite direction, with exports being lower in the high case because domestic consumption grows very rapidly. Gas Supply Forecasts In 1998 the Caspian group produced 78.2 bcm of gas. The IEA forecasts, with a high degree of uncertainty, that gas production will reach between 102 and 112 bcm by 2000 and between 228 and 267 bcm in 2020.17 The difference in the level of exports between the high and low cases is small, at about 3.5 per cent in 2020 (see Table 2.8). The IEA is the only organisation to provide forecasts for gas demand and supply. These are done for the transition group of countries. In 1995, the transition group of countries played a much more important role in the international gas trade than it did in the international oil trade, accounting for 47.5 per cent of the world primary energy supply from gas. In 2010 it is forecast to supply 51 per cent and in 2020, 58.7 per cent. There are two main importing regions throughout the forecast period, OECD Europe and OECD Pacific. North America is self-sufficient and other areas, such as the Middle East and South America, are net exporters. The IEA assumed that during its forecast period there would be a substantial increase in gas45

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

fired electric power generation in Europe, based on increasing supplies from Russia and the Caspian, especially Turkmenistan.18 The IEA envisages a scenario in which Siberian gas exports to Europe face increasing competition from Caspian gas. At present, Caspian gas exports are expected to enter Europe via Turkey, rather than via Russia. The latter does not favour Caspian exports via its territory because this would compete with its own gas sales. As a result Turkmen gas is relatively expensive in Europe, but when Russian gas supplies begin to dwindle, Russia is likely to be attracted by the transit fees which they will be able to earn from Turkmen gas exports to Europe through pipelines passing through its territory. Table 2.1 Oil and gas reserves in the Caspian Sea region, 1997 (oil in bn barrels, gas in tcf) Proven oil

Potential oil

Total oil

Azerbaijan Kazakhstan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan

12.5 17.6 1.7 0.3

32 92 38 2

45 110 40 2

Russia* Total

0.3 32.4

7 171

7 204

Proven gas

Potential gas

Total gas

11 53–83 98–155 74–88

35 88 159 35

46 141–71 257–314 109–23

— 236–337

— 317

— 553–654

* Caspian Sea region only. Source: EIA, The Caspian Sea Region, October 1998 (www.eia.doe.gov/emeu/cabs/caspian.html).

Table 2.2 Oil production, 1993–98 (thousands of barrels a day) 1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

1998

Azerbaijan Kazakhstan Uzbekistan Sub-total

210 490 95 795

195 430 125 750

185 435 170 790

185 475 165 825

180 535 175 890

230 540 180 950

Russia Middle East World

7,175 19,580 66,040

6,420 19,900 66,960

6,290 20,130 68,000

6,115 20,620 69,900

6,225 21,580 72,100

6,170 22,718 73,105

Source: BP Amoco Statistical Review of World Energy 1999.

46

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION Table 2.3 Gas production, 1993–98 (bcm) 1993 Azerbaijan Kazakhstan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan Sub-total Russia Middle East World

1994

1995

1996

1997

1998

6.3 6.2 60.9 42.0 115.4

6.0 4.2 33.3 44.0 87.5

6.2 5.5 30.1 45.3 87.1

5.9 6.1 32.8 45.7 90.5

5.6 7.6 16.1 47.8 78.0

5.2 7.6 11.7 51.1 60.4

576.5 118.8 2,068.7

566.4 129.7 2,090.6

555.4 143.3 2,132.1

561.1 158.3 2,228.2

532.6 172.8 2,222.9

551.3 181.0 2,271.8

Source: BP Amoco Statistical Review of World Energy 1999.

Table 2.4 GDP growth, 1992–98 (annual, per cent) 1992

1993

1994

Intermediate reformers: Kazakhstan ⫺5.3 Kyrgyzstan ⫺13.9 Russia ⫺14.5

⫺9.2 ⫺15.5 ⫺8.7

⫺12.6 ⫺20.1 ⫺12.6

Slow reformers: Turkmenistan ⫺5.3 Uzbekistan ⫺11.0

⫺10.0 ⫺2.3

Countries affected by conflict: Armenia ⫺52.3 ⫺14.8 Azerbaijan ⫺22.1 ⫺23.1 Georgia ⫺44.8 ⫺25.4 Tajikistan ⫺29.0 ⫺11.0

1995

1996

1997

1998

⫺8.2 ⫺5.4 ⫺4.0

0.5 7.1 ⫺3.5

1.7 9.9 0.8

⫺2.5 1.8 ⫺4.6

⫺19.0 ⫺4.2

⫺8.2 ⫺0.9

⫺7.7 1.6

⫺25.9 2.4

18.0 1.0

5.4 ⫺18.1 ⫺11.4 ⫺18.9

6.9 ⫺11.0 2.4 ⫺12.5

5.9 1.3 11.0 ⫺16.7

3.1 5.8 11.3 1.7

7.2 10.0 2.9 5.3

Sources: 1992–95: Luis M. Valdivieso, Macroeconomic Developments in the Baltics, Russia and Other Countries in the Former Soviet Union, 1992-97, Occasional Paper no. 175, IMF, 1998; UN Economic Commission for Europe, Economic Survey of Europe 1999, No. 1, New York and Geneva, UN, 1999, p. 50.

47

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION Table 2.5 Population and national income, 1997 Population (m)

GNP ($ bn)

GNP per head ($)

GNP per head (ppp*, $)

4 8 5 16 5 147 6 5 24

2.0 3.9 4.6 21.8 2.0 403.5 2.0 2.9 23.9

530 510 840 1,340 440 2,740 330 630 1,010

2,280 1,520 1,980 3,290 2,040 4,190 930 1,410 2,450

73

63.1

Armenia Azerbaijan Georgia Kazakhstan Kyrgyzstan Russia Tajikistan Turkmenistan Uzbekistan Total, excluding Russia * purchasing power parity.

Source: World Bank, World Development Report, 1998/99.

Table 2.6 The transition economies’ oil balance, 1996–2020 (mbd) 1996 IEA forecast Demand 5.5 Supply 7.3 Net Imports ⫺1.8 EIA forecast (reference case) Demand 5.7 Supply 7.4 Net Imports ⫺1.7

2010

2020

1996–2020 Annual growth rate (%)

7.2 10.2 ⫺3.0

8.5 9.4 ⫺0.9

1.8 1.1 ⫺2.8

7.8 12.5 ⫺4.7

10.1 13.6 ⫺3.5

2.4 2.6 ⫺3.1

Source: IEA, World Energy Outlook 1998, p. 270.

48

45.0 20.0 25.0

14.0 10.2 3.8

10.0 7.0 3.0

10.0 8.7 1.3

79.0 45.9 33.1

20.5 10.4 10.1

9.2 7.0 2.2

3.5 5.7 ⫺2.2

7.6 8.6 ⫺1.0

40.8 31.7 9.1

2000

122.0 65.6 56.4

11.0 9.0 2.0

11.0 7.0 4.0

30.0 13.0 17.0

70.0 33.7 36.3

2005

Source: Middle East Economic Survey, 27 July 1998, p. A.10.

Kazakhstan Production Consumption Net exports Azerbaijan Production Consumption Net exports Turkmenistan Production Consumption Net exports Uzbekistan Production Consumption Net exports Total Production Consumption Net exports

1995

The high case

194.0 77.5 116.5

12.0 10.0 2.0

12.0 7.0 5.0

70.0 15.0 55.0

100.0 45.5 54.5

2010

308.0 130.1 177.9

14.0 12.0 2.0

14.0 8.0 6.0

120.0 25.9 94.1

160.0 84.2 75.8

2020

40.8 31.7 9.1

7.6 8.6 ⫺1.0

3.5 5.7 ⫺2.2

9.2 7.0 2.2

20.5 10.4 10.1

1995

69.0 40.4 28.6

9.0 8.7 0.3

6.0 6.0 0.0

14.0 10.2 3.8

40.0 15.6 24.4

2000

96.5 52.8 43.7

10.0 9.0 1.0

6.5 6.5 0.0

25.0 12.9 12.1

55.0 24.4 30.6

2005

The low case

138.0 62.9 75.1

11.0 9.5 1.5

7.0 7.0 0.0

45.0 14.8 30.2

75.0 31.6 43.4

2010

Table 2.7 IEA forecasts: Caspian states’ oil production, domestic production and net exports, 1995–2020 (m tons)

241.0 92.8 148.2

13.0 11.0 2.0

8.0 8.0 0.0

120.0 21.9 68.1

130.0 52.9 78.1

2020

9.8 14.7 ⫺4.9

7.4 7.4 0.0

42.9 9.4 33.5

51.4 49.4 2.0

111.5 80.9 30.6

5.9 12.5 ⫺6.6

6.7 7.3 ⫺0.6

35.6 9.8 25.8

48.6 44.2 4.4

96.8 73.8 23.0

2000

149.5 95.2 54.3

56.3 55.9 0.4

61.2 11.3 50.0

17.3 9.7 7.6

14.7 18.4 ⫺3.7

2005

Source: Middle East Economic Survey, 27 July 1998, p. A.11.

Kazakhstan Production Consumption Net exports Azerbaijan Production Consumption Net exports Turkmenistan Production Consumption Net exports Uzbekistan Production Consumption Net exports Total Production Consumption Net exports

1995

The high case

201.0 117.1 84.0

62.5 61.6 0.8

85.7 13.8 71.9

23.5 12.1 11.4

29.4 29.4 0.0

2010

267.2 147.2 120.0

73.5 74.4 ⫺0.9

129.8 18.7 111.1

29.6 19.8 9.9

34.3 34.3 0.0

2020

96.8 73.8 23.0

48.6 44.2 4.4

35.6 9.8 25.8

6.7 7.3 ⫺0.6

5.9 12.5 ⫺6.6

1995

102.3 76.6 25.7

50.2 46.8 3.5

36.7 9.6 27.2

7.4 7.4 0.0

8.0 12.9 ⫺4.9

2000

126.2 85.7 40.6

53.9 50.9 3.0

49.0 10.2 38.8

11.1 8.6 2.5

12.2 15.9 ⫺3.7

2005

The low case

164.2 92.7 71.6

58.8 53.6 5.1

75.9 12.0 63.9

14.8 9.9 4.9

14.7 17.1 ⫺2.4

2010

Table 2.8 IEA forecasts: Caspian states’ gas production, domestic production and net exports, 1995–2020 (bcm)

228.0 112.1 115.9

67.4 61.0 6.3

117.6 15.4 102.2

23.5 16.0 7.4

19.6 19.6 0.0

2020

OIL AND GAS IN THE CASPIAN REGION NOTES 1 Calculated from BP Statistical Review of World Energy, 1998 (Internet version). 2 Calculated from BP Amoco Statistical Review of World Energy, 1999 (Internet version). 3 UN Economic Commission for Europe, Economic Survey of Europe 1998 (New York and Geneva: UN, 1998) No. 1, Appendix B.1. p. 199. 4 IEA, ‘Caspian Oil and Gas: 1999 Update’ (Internet version) p. 26. 5 Middle East Economic Survey, 23 November 1998. 6 If Supsa were chosen as the terminus, then oil would have to go by tanker through the Bosphorus to the Mediterranean. 7 See Chapter 1. 8 IEA, ‘Caspian Oil and Gas: 1999 Update’, p. 6. 9 The Economist Intelligence Unit, Azerbaijan, Country Report, 1st Quarter 1999, London: The Economist, 1998. 10 Felix Martin, Kazakhstan’s Caspian Wealth: Horn of Plenty or Poisoned Chalice? (Washington, DC: World Bank, 1998). 11 IEA, ‘Caspian Oil and Gas: 1999 Update’. 12 IEA, The IEA Natural Gas Security Study (Paris: OECD, 1995), pp. 389–96. 13 Luis M. Valdivieso, Macroeconomic Developments in the Baltics, Russia and Other Countries in the Former Soviet Union, 1992–97, Occasional Paper no. 175 (Washington, DC: IMF, 1998), p. 17. 14 IEA, The IEA Natural Gas Security Study, pp. 441–53. 15 EIA Uzbekistan Internet note, December 1997. 16 IEA, World Energy Outlook (Paris: IEA, 1998), Appendix 7.18, p. 117 and Table 2.7 here. 17 Robert Priddle, Caspian Oil and Gas: Challenges and Rewards (Paris: IEA, 1999) 18 IEA, World Energy Outlook 1998 (Paris: IEA, 1998), pp. 123–41, 262–7.

51

PART II A NEW ROUND IN AN OLD GAME? RUSSIA, IRAN AND TURKEY

3

Islam in Russian Security Concerns Flemming S. Hansen

Recent years have witnessed an increasing Russian interest in Islam, both the community falling within the Russian Federation as well as that of the surrounding Islamic world. Among the focal points of this attention has been the issue of security; that is, an attempt has been made to present an answer to the following, quite fundamental, questions: Does Islam constitute a threat to Russian national security interests? If yes, then how should this threat be counteracted? And alternatively, can Islam be used to advance Russian security interests? This development has been accompanied by a rise in the number of studies examining Russia’s relations with the Islamic world. While the reasons for this are numerous, it will suffice to note that Russia has a sizeable Muslim minority and that it is adjacent to the predominantly Muslim states of former Soviet Central Asia. This chapter, itself forming part of this wave of studies spurred by the break-up of the Soviet Union and the subsequent rise to sovereignty of the 15 former Union republics, will survey the Russian attitude to Islam within three geographical areas: first, that of Russia itself; second, the Islamic part of what the Russians call the ‘near abroad,’ that is, the other 14 former Soviet republics comprising Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, and Tajikistan as well as Azerbaijan; third, the Islamic world lying beyond the borders of what was once the Soviet Union. The three geographical areas mentioned above were listed in order of importance, with developments taking place within Russia itself of course being of primary relevance and importance to Russian national security. This chapter, however, will consider these areas in reverse order, thus gradually working itself through to the core area. The study will consider developments since mid-1996, a time marked by two events which, taken together, seemed to signal the beginning of a new phase in Russia’s relations with the Islamic world. In August 1996 Aleksandr Lebed, then presidential envoy and 55

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

secretary of the Security Council, brokered a ceasefire putting a stop to what was in all respects a nightmare for Russia – and especially so in its dealings with its own Muslim population – the first war in Chechnya. While signalling the end to almost two years of fighting, the Khasavyurt agreement signed by Lebed and the then Chechen Chief-of-Staff Aslan Maskhadov also marked the beginning of a painful process of nation-building and healing of the deep rifts characterising relations between Russia’s Muslim and non-Muslim populations; a process that has undoubtedly suffered a setback with the outbreak in October 1999 of the second Chechen war. In September 1996 the Taliban movement suddenly occupied Kabul in a dramatic offensive, leading Russian policy-makers, observers and scholars alike to address with stronger attention the issue of Islam, whatever its regional setting. Before doing this, however, two methodological problems need to be addressed briefly. Even though the 1993 Russian Constitution gave us ‘presidential domestic and foreign policy’, Russia should not be seen as a monolithic actor. Policies are the outcomes of intense political struggles among various groups within the political establishment,1 and are formed on the background of Russia’s wide range of policy opinions.2 Any analysis should, therefore, consider and incorporate these processes to the greatest extent possible. This exercise, a challenging task under any set of conditions, is made even more difficult in today’s Russia where hidden agendas and ulterior motives seem to proliferate throughout the political scene at an unprecedented rate. While some analysts take care to draw a distinction between different forms of religious activity,3 all too often designations such as ‘fundamentalism’, ‘extremism’ and ‘radicalism’ are used interchangeably. This defies the purpose of these various labels – to clarify and specify. Unfortunately, there is no escape from the resulting ambiguity and the only analytical tool available is to simply infer the meaning of the word from the context. Since, however, some political circles in Russia draw a distinction between ‘extremism’ and ‘fundamentalism’, their use of these terms has to be presented: according to Evgenii Primakov, then Foreign Minister of Russia, the term ‘Islamic extremism’ should be applied to those organisations only that ‘strive to export and enforce the Islamic way of life, the Islamic model, occasionally through the use of armed force’.4 A Foreign Ministry expert added that extremism is characterised by ‘aggressive messianism’, resulting in an intensification of religious conflicts, ‘especially between Islam and Christianity’.5 ‘Islamic fundamentalism’, on the other hand, rejects these aims and features, representing instead a more modest, considerate, peaceful and – at the end – truer interpretation of Islam.6 56

ISLAM IN RUSSIAN SECURITY CONCERNS THE SURROUNDING WORLD

The occupation by the Taliban of Kabul caused the political establishment in Moscow to ‘panic slightly’.7 Krasnaia zvezda, for example, warned that just as former Afghan President Mohammad Najibullah had been executed by the Taliban so there was a risk that gallows would be set up in Dushanbe, Bukhara and other cities of Central Asia, and that non-Muslim Russians would some day have to comply with Islamic law.8 While these warnings did clearly form part of a continuous effort to secure an increase in defence allocations, they also indicated the extent to which the Taliban were seen as a factor that could successfully help move public opinion – and thus the extent to which Islamic extremism was believed to be a cause for concern. Similarly Lebed, then still secretary of the Security Council, claimed that the Taliban were planning to ‘take parts of Uzbekistan and Tajikistan’, adding a call to support anti-Taliban forces inside Afghanistan.9 These first reactions to a political force that had until then remained largely unnoticed in wide Russian circles were later relaxed and somewhat modified. Their basic tenets, however, have remained the same. The Taliban are clearly seen as a potentially threatening and highly destabilising force that might in time prove capable of projecting its influence onto a greater part of the Central Asian theatre. It has, therefore, to be met with stern action. Thus, following the May 1997 campaign on Mazar-e Sharif and the northern provinces of Afghanistan, Primakov warned the Taliban that if they advanced further north, they should expect ‘immediate and determined’ action from the members of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS).10 Again, in August 1998 the consolidation of Taliban control over the northern part of Afghanistan caused the Russians to threaten to use ‘adequate military measures’ in response to a ‘very real threat’.11 On the other hand, there seems to be a growing understanding that the Taliban are clearly incapable of launching a military offensive into CIS territory, and that the Pushtun-dominated organisation enjoys little support among the peoples of former Soviet Central Asia. These points, first raised by Russian observers,12 also reached the Russian Foreign Ministry. Thus, it even expressed doubts as to the Taliban’s ability to find support among the national minorities of northern Afghanistan.13 As for their military capabilities, these are clearly seen as inadequate for an offensive against the far superior Russian military presence on the border.14 According to the Russian Foreign Ministry, it is only because of external support that the Taliban are in a position to demonstrate such self-confidence and aggressiveness.15 57

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION

Dismissing both claims – that the Taliban are attractive to Central Asian populations and that they pose a military threat – the Russians obviously need another explanation for concern. Before turning to that, however, a more fundamental issue needs to be addressed: critics could argue – also in view of the above-mentioned statements – that Russia is, in fact, not disturbed by the Taliban and that the latter only serve as a very convenient excuse to advance other Russian interests, primarily continued CIS integration. Obviously there are grounds for such conclusions. After all, each warning by Moscow to the Taliban has been accompanied by calls to improve the defence mechanism of the CIS. For instance, following the September 1996 change of guard in Kabul, Russia played the ‘Taliban card’ with its Central Asian partners.16 In this particular case, however, the attempt to invigorate the largely defunct Collective Security Treaty of the CIS failed. Always on the lookout for Russian attempts to preserve and increase their dominance in the region,17 the Central Asian states accepted only ‘continued coordination’.18 The disappointed Russians were thus left with a defence arrangement which was static at best.19 Subsequent advances by the Taliban have made the Central Asian states more receptive to the Russian calls. Thus, in May 1998 Uzbekistan joined Russia and Tajikistan in a defence Troika.20 These limited successes in defence integration have clearly fallen short of Russian hopes and expectations. Nevertheless, Moscow’s pursuit of these aims suggests that it might have had, in fact, a hidden agenda unrelated to the Taliban. Closely linked to this point, Russia can hope that by stressing the need to cooperate militarily against the Taliban danger, it will be allowed to continue its use of military installations along the southern border of the former Soviet Union. This would allow Moscow to postpone the very costly enterprise of establishing military positions on the southern border of Russia itself.21 Two points, however, should be put forward in favour of Russian sincerity on the issue of the Taliban. First, following the events of September 1996 the Tajik peace talks, until then ‘dead in the water’,22 suddenly got under way with remarkable speed. Intense Russian pressure on Tajik President Imomali Rakhmonov made this sudden progress in the inter-Tajik negotiations possible. This strongly suggests that Moscow wanted to see an end to the Tajik conflict as it feared the spill-over effect of events in neighbouring Afghanistan. Second, while the continued military presence in Central Asia does present the Russian side with a number of advantages, it also has its costs, for instance in human losses.23 This fact seems to suggest that the persistent Russian calls for a reinforced military presence in 58

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Central Asia against the Taliban threat have been based on a bona fide evaluation of events. The first call was made almost immediately following the Chechen war, which claimed at least 3,000 Russian casualties.24 The issue therefore is obviously highly charged, making it potentially very costly, in political terms, for any Russian political leader to support a policy which could suddenly be regarded as inexcusable by the electorate. Returning to the various threats associated with the Taliban and legitimising – at least in the eyes of a broad spectrum of the Russian political scene – the implementation of a number of measures designed to contain the destabilising effect of the organisation, one finds a multi-faceted picture. The background to this is the overall importance attached to Afghanistan. It is, in the words of one observer, the ‘key to Central Asia’.25 Geographically it has a long border – almost 2,400 km long – with Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan.26 Also, major ethnic minority groups in northern Afghanistan, most importantly the Tajiks and the Uzbeks,27 are adjacent to sovereign states dominated by their ethnic brethren. Thus, the repercussions of any major change in Afghanistan might relatively easily be felt in the southern part of former Soviet Central Asia. This fact also serves to explain the alleged threats from the Taliban advances. These threats fall broadly into three categories. First, due to their extremist nature, it is feared that any future advance of the Taliban will be followed by streams of refugees escaping both the fighting and the Taliban regime. This potentially highly destabilising threat,28 could affect the southern part of the CIS as a whole – and already unstable Tajikistan in particular.29 Second, there is a fear in Moscow that this general unrest could be accompanied by an increase in international crime, especially the smuggling of weapons and narcotics, already a serious problem in Tajikistan.30 Third, the spread of Islamic extremism to the CIS – including Russia – is greatly feared; as Igor Ivanov, now Russian Foreign Minister, explained in mid-1997, a ‘domino effect in Central Asia must be avoided’.31 The seriousness of this alarm is emphasised by the contents of the Tajik peace agreement, which has brought into the coalition government the former Islamic opposition. Apparently this is seen by Moscow as the lesser evil and hopefully a bulwark against extremism. Implicit in Ivanov’s comments seems to be a belief in receptiveness to Islamic extremism throughout all five Central Asian CIS states. In response to this, and to the entire set of threats mentioned above, the Russians have formulated a policy on Afghanistan consisting of two parts. First, Moscow calls for strict non-interference in the internal affairs of Afghanistan.32 Although some reports have claimed that the 59

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Russians have actually provided support to anti-Taliban forces in the north,33 the background to the principle is clear: believing that the Taliban are heavily dependent on outside support, Moscow considers international acceptance of the principle of non-interference as a first step towards reducing the organisation’s regional impact. Second, Russian troops – totalling now about 16,000 men – are stationed on the Tajik–Afghan border.34 These were first deployed following the outbreak of the Tajik civil war. Then their primary mission was to prevent incursions into Tajikistan of armed Tajik opposition forces based in Afghanistan. Now their main effort is to seal the border to Afghan fighters and smugglers. This mission is likely to continue in the future, despite the costs,35 as the seemingly broad support surrounding it suggests. Thus, in mid-1998 Gennadii Seleznov, the powerful Communist speaker of the Duma, declared that only Russian troops were capable of holding ‘the position on the border’.36 Shortly afterwards Colonel-General Konstantin Totskii the head of the Russian border troops was dispatched by President Boris Yeltsin to Dushanbe, where he assured President Rakhmonov that Russian troops would stay on ‘Border No. 1’, thereby also protecting Russian national interests.37 Although Afghanistan figures prominently in Russian security concerns, other parts of the Islamic world are also of great importance, even if for very different reasons. A Western observer suggested in 1997, that under Primakov’s foreign policy leadership, Russia would take a ‘more sophisticated neo-Eurasianist view of Islam’, in which a clear distinction would be made between ‘fundamentalism’ and ‘extremism’.38 Indeed, while making clear that they will take active measures to protect themselves from the latter,39 the Russians indicated that ‘Islamic fundamentalism’ might be an ally in the international arena. The major partners to such a cooperation have primarily been the Iranians. According to the Russian ambassador to Tehran the Iranians offered a ‘peace-loving’ interpretation of Islam.40 This ‘more sophisticated’, if not flexible, view of Islam offers Moscow several advantages, all serving to improve its international position and increase its sense of security. First, within the particular Iranian context Russia has found an ally sharing its opposition to the Taliban41 and willing to cooperate with the Russians on bringing peace to Tajikistan.42 Second, the Muslim states, ‘mobilise against the West’, inter alia because of ‘dissatisfaction with the attempts of the West, and especially the United States, to dominate the world and . . . to exploit them’.43 Therefore, cooperation with the Islamic world obviously opens an array of opportunities for the Russians. Of course, this is primarily so in their direct dealings with the West, where the Russians 60

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could ask for concessions, for instance in return for putting pressure on one or more of their Islamic allies. Thus, Moscow cannot but be happy when Western commentators regret the fact that the West fails to draw on Russian support in the resolution of Third World conflicts,44 especially those involving Islamic ‘rogue’ states. After all such a line of thinking gives Russia more room for manoeuvring vis-à-vis the West. Consequently, close relationships have to be built with Islamic states such as Iran, Iraq, Syria and Libya, which in turn might be effectively used as leverages to gain concessions from the West – and ultimately to increase Russian national security.45 Third, the Russians go to great length not to be seen as taking part in a ‘crusade’ against Islam,46 especially because of the war in Chechnya, the involvement in Tajikistan and their opposition to the Taliban. This is more than just a necessary precondition for the materialisation of the second scenario. It also serves to help to solve problems closer to home. Indeed, within Russia a coherent policy on Islam could hardly be formulated and implemented were Russia seen as taking part in an international struggle against Islam (see below). Thus, cooperation with ‘fundamentalism’ serves not only to improve Russia’s international standing, but also to play an important role in the domestic scene – turning the traditional Soviet dichotomy of domestic-foreign Islam partly on its head.47 THE ‘NEAR ABROAD’

It is clear that Moscow attaches particular importance to the situation in Tajikistan, for which three main reasons should be singled out. First, there is a consensus in Russia that ‘whoever controls Tajikistan, holds the key to [former Soviet] Central Asia’.48 This feeling can be explained, among other things, by Tajikistan’s long and meandering borders with Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, as well as by the complex ethnic patchwork of Tajikistan’s border regions.49 Second, just before the collapse of the Soviet Union a strong Islamic opposition emerged in the country. Until this very day Tajikistan is widely regarded as the CIS state ‘most vulnerable to Islamic extremism’.50 Third, in 1992 a savage civil war erupted, destabilised Tajikistan and brought it to the brink of disintegration.51 That very same Islamic opposition was one of the two main combatants in the war. These three points taken as a whole would seem to suggest a continued strong interest on Moscow’s part in post-Soviet Tajikistan. This has indeed been the case. In late 1992 the Russian military got involved in the Tajik civil war, attempting to overlay the conflict, that 61

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is, to suspend its dynamic.52 In early 1994 Russian-sponsored negotiations started between Rakhmonov and the Islamic opposition.53 These, however, had been unsuccessful until in late 1996 sudden progress was reported: in early December Rakhmonov and Said Abdullo Nuri, Head of the United Tajik Opposition (UTO), met in an ‘intermediate summit’ in northern Afghanistan. Two weeks later the warring parties met in Moscow to sign a ‘breakthrough agreement’, which stipulated the establishment of a transitional two-party National Reconciliation Council.54 All available evidence points to the fact that in late 1996 the Russian side made clear to Rakhmonov that a peaceful solution to the conflict had to be found. Russian First Deputy Foreign Minister, Boris Pastukhov, commented that Moscow ‘convinced the Tajik [government] delegation’ that it should sign the agreement (emphasis added),55 while Ahbar Turajonzoda, the former Qadi and one of the leading figures of the Islamic Renaissance Party, later explained that the Russian position on Tajikistan had turned ‘more realistic’ in mid1996.56 This does not, however, explain why Yeltsin and his government decided to push through an agreement which they must have known would be heavily criticised by the domestic opposition as allowing ‘creeping Islamisation’ of Tajikistan,57 and which – like most negotiated settlements of internal conflicts – stood the risk of collapsing in a short period of time.58 First, it could be argued that the Russians had few, if any, alternatives. After all, preserving an unstable status quo that had already taken its heavy toll on Russian troops and helped drain the Russian national budget was hardly a desirable option. Second, by allowing the conflict to go on, Moscow would run the risk of actually facilitating its eventual intensification. As one observer noted, generally ‘the more radical Islamic groups engaged on the battlefield, the larger is the human resource pool that they can count on in the future’.59 This is even more so if the economic costs of the Tajik fighting are taken into consideration too – costs which have only served to exacerbate what were already before 1992 extremely severe economic conditions.60 Third, a change in Russia’s priorities has been observed following the appointment of Primakov (and later of Ivanov) as Foreign Minister, which has affected relations with Tajikistan too.61 One of the characteristics of Primakov’s ‘neo-Eurasianism’ is the insistence that Russia’s influence in the ‘Near Abroad’ should be consolidated ‘by peaceful diplomatic means’.62 Such a policy towards the Islamic states of the CIS has its own aims. Still it can be used by Moscow in its dealings with the wider Islamic world as well as in its relations with its own Muslim population. 62

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Fourth, as argued above, the rise to power of the Taliban in Afghanistan greatly added to the urgency of reaching a settlement. Considering the Tajik population in general as receptive to Islamic extremism, Moscow had to forestall an almost inevitable worsening of the situation in Tajikistan in the face of possible Taliban advances. Hoping to accomplish it, the Russians chose the ‘lesser evil’: to partly accommodate the Islamic opposition, in the hope that the situation would not get further out of hand. While all four reasons serve to explain why Russia was adamant on a peace treaty, only the latter two seem to explain the timing of the agreement, and only the advent of the Taliban regime in Kabul the persistence of Russian diplomatic effort since late 1996. For instance, when following the signing of the December 1996 agreement the peace process stalled, Yeltsin emphasised to Rakhmonov the importance of ‘consistent progress’.63 The Tajik president, hardly in a position to resist Russian pressure, clearly understood Yeltsin’s message. Shortly afterwards, in June 1997, he announced the conclusion of a general treaty ‘to establish peace and national accord in Tajikistan’.64 When in August 1997 troops loyal to Rakhmonov protested against the peace agreement by fighting the presidential guard (thereby highlighting the fragility of the new modus vivendi), the Russians declared categorically that there was ‘no alternative’ to the peace agreement.65 The June 1997 treaty was welcomed enthusiastically by Yeltsin who declared that Russia would ‘use everything in its power to help Tajikistan’.66 This enthusiasm notwithstanding, the treaty was clearly regarded as falling short of the optimal. As part of the December 1996 agreement a coalition government had to be set up, in which the UTO would receive 30 per cent of the seats. While the final distribution of seats was to be negotiated between the two sides to the treaty, the Russians apparently insisted that the UTO received none of the ‘power ministries’, that is the Foreign, Defence, Interior and Security ministries.67 Moscow thereby demonstrated its general mistrust of the Islamists whom it had just helped restore to political prominence. Of course, all this should not be viewed in isolation. If Tajikistan’s importance primarily stems from its ‘key position’ in former Soviet Central Asia, then Russian involvement there forms part of a greater effort to prevent the spread of Islamic extremism throughout Central Asia, and ultimately into Russia itself. ‘The Islamic states of the CIS’, wrote Nezavisimaia gazeta, ‘are potential allies of the semi-separatist Muslim republics of the RF.’68 This view of the Islamic CIS states, and especially of Central Asia, is widespread in Russian political and academic circles. Ivanov’s warning of a possible ‘domino effect’69 was echoed by Vladimir Lukin, Chairman of the Duma’s Foreign Affairs Committee and co-founder of the liberal Iabloko party. In case of a 63

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Russian retreat from Tajikistan, he warned ‘Islamic extremists will be on our backs and will get to Orenburg’.70 Similarly, a senior Russian specialist on international relations, Sergey Mikoyan, warned on the pages of Survival that if Islamic extremism ‘triumphs in Tajikistan, it could sweep through Central Asia, hitting Russia’s borders’.71 Two points are striking in such statements: (1) their allegation of receptiveness to Islamic extremism in Central Asia; (2) the significance they attach to the continued deployment of Russian troops in Tajikistan. One also might argue that the statements are characterised by dissonance: if Islamic extremism is really such a powerful latent force in the five Central Asian CIS states, then to what extent does the Russian contingent in Tajikistan actually serve to contain it? While this question points at a deliberate exaggeration of the ‘Islamic threat’ by wide Russian circles, it should be noted that the importance of non-military means is also widely recognised. Before turning to these, however, the Russian military presence in Tajikistan should be discussed. As stated above, warnings of the Taliban seem to give Moscow an opportunity to advance a number of unrelated interests. The same can be said about the issue at hand: by calling for a continued Russian military involvement in Central Asia to meet the threat of Islamic extremism, the Russians are also demonstrating what they believe are the benefits to be gained from deeper CIS military integration and the unhindered access for Russian troops to military facilities in the CIS’s south. It is important to add, however, that Moscow keeps its troops in Tajikistan to deter Taliban fighters from crossing the border and to control the flow of refugees and illegal goods, including weapons. This is thus a preventive military operation and is seen as essential to the successful prevention of the spread of Islamic extremism throughout the Central Asian theatre. At the same time the importance of improving socio-economic conditions in Central Asia is recognised. These are believed to be the underlying causes that attract people to Islamic extremism. Commenting on this issue, a Russian Foreign Ministry official noted that the ‘religious renaissance’ in post-Soviet Central Asia could develop into tension in case of ‘an unfavourable development of the socio-economic processes [and] a rapid increase in population’.72 Similarly, the conservative newspaper Pravda noted that ‘the present deep systemic crisis’ was creating fertile ground for a ‘rapid, epidemic-like’ spread of Islamic extremism.73 Therefore, while the CIS economic cooperation is initiated by Moscow to bolster its dominant economic position,74 it is undoubtedly designed to also cushion the blow of economic transformation in the CIS’s south. This is especially so with regard to the Russian economic assistance, or subsidies, of an 64

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aggregate between $17 bn and $67 bn since 1992 to the other CIS partners.75 Moscow seems to believe and hope that this economic assistance, coming hand in hand with firmer military control on the Tajik–Afghan border, can help prevent the spread of extremism. RUSSIA

Estimates of the number of Muslims in the RF fluctuate between 12 m and 25 m.76 The figure most often quoted is 20 m, which means that the Muslims form about 13–14 per cent of the population. Russian experts predict a rise in politicised Islam, ranging from the unification of various Muslim organisations to secessionist movements based on religion in the Northern Caucasus.77 They also estimate that an increase in religious fervour is plausible, which might most likely lead to an increase – both absolutely and relatively – in fundamentalist and even extremist adherents.78 A higher degree of Muslim political activity per se does not create security problems for the Russian state. Neither should ‘Islamic fundamentalism’, as defined above, give cause for concern. However, Muslim secessionist movements and/or the spread of Islamic extremism, should – and indeed do – engender anxiety. While there is no clear precept of the link between these two types of threat, common sense suggests that a rise in extremism will lead not only to political instability and violence, but also, most probably, to a rise in the number and strength of Muslim secessionist organisations. Russian observers predict, not surprisingly, that Islamic extremism is most likely to emerge and grow in the Northern Caucasus, and especially in Chechnya and Daghestan.79 Such a development will threaten both the political institutions and parts of the population. By far more important, it will put into question the integrity of the Russian state, which according to Russian experts, is ‘weak’, or in other words suffers from a low degree of socio-political cohesion.80 This threat is by definition the determining feature of all Muslim secessionist movements, even if they are outside the extremist environment. Whatever their origins, there is – as will be recalled – a fear in Russia that these movements could find support and possibly inspiration in Central Asian CIS states turned extremist, thereby emphasising the importance of preventive measures in the latter region. The lack of socio-political cohesion within the RF is addressed as one of the main threats to national security in the recent Russian Security Doctrine, published in December 1997. The document identifies a number of threats, among them ‘ethnic egotism, ethnocentrism 65

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and chauvinism [serving to] increase national separatism and create favourable conditions for the emergence of conflicts’.81 While the Security Doctrine does not single out Muslim minority groups – it was phrased in a general manner – there can be little doubt that they did indeed figure prominently in the minds of the authors. Just before the adoption of the Security Doctrine, Igor Sergeev, the Minister of Defence warned that ‘the possible escalation of armed conflicts aimed at strengthening the position of Islamic extremism in the Caucasus . . . presents a threat to Russia’s security’.82 The Russians have, as their own experts noted, two principal options to pre-empt such a development.83 First, they can attempt to quell possible strengthening of Islamic religious activity and secessionist movements and enter into conflict with the Muslim minorities. The emergence of such a line was suggested by a Western observer, who correctly predicted the rise to prominence of Primakov’s ‘neoEurasianism’. According to this suggestion part of it might be formed by ‘a reinvention of the policy of double-standard towards external and internal Islam characteristic of the Soviet period’.84 This, however, has not happened. Indeed one could argue that such a double standard would hardly be feasible in post-Soviet Russia – Chechnya notwithstanding. Rather, as was suggested above, the former Soviet dichotomy has been turned on its head, making the ‘Islamic component’ of Russia’s foreign policy a tool in Moscow’s dealings with its own Muslim minorities. Such a policy would reflect not only the growing importance of the Muslim electorate, but also the need to prevent an exacerbation of undesirable, yet recognised, tensions within the RF. These latter would, however, almost inevitably be exacerbated by the ‘conflict option’ which would, therefore, be a recipe for the disintegration of the Russian state.85 The second option is to find a ‘common language with both Islam and the Islamic world’, that is, ‘search for a dialogue’.86 This policy of accommodation has been described as being ‘extraordinarily difficult’,87 partly because of popular Russian resistance. Surveys make clear that to a very high percentage of the Russians ‘Islamic fundamentalism’ is an enemy second only to the US.88 Indeed, government officials noted that a dangerous ‘coldness is shown towards our Muslim citizens’.89 Nevertheless, this option is apparently the policy adopted by Moscow. It consists of at least three main parts. The first, as phrased by the Security Doctrine, is that ‘the improvement and development of federalism and local government are most important tasks’.90 Part of it will obviously have to be the reconsideration and possibly redefinition of relations between Moscow and the Muslim subjects of the Federation. A possible indication of the extent to which Moscow will be willing to accommodate one or more 66

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of these autonomous republics was given by Yeltsin in late 1997. Commenting on public executions carried out in Chechnya, he declared that ‘such a shari‘a is unacceptable’ (emphasis added), leading observers to speculate whether other elements of Islamic law might be incorporated into local legislation in the autonomous republics dominated by Muslims.91 Second, the Muslims will have to be incorporated into the ‘Russian idea’, that is, into a new framework of values designed to increase the sense of loyalty felt by various groups towards the Russian state. While the contents of this ‘Russian idea’ has been debated for some years now, the Chechen war added a sense of urgency to this debate, demonstrating only too well the lack of socio-political cohesion within the RF. Though not yet completed, one of the main elements of the new idea will be a redefined concept of patriotism, designed to advance the interests of a multi-ethnic Russian state.92 Delegating religion to other elements,93 this new patriotism will focus on the historical tradition of Russia, its allegedly unique civilisation, its former superpower status and its being ‘predestined to greatness’.94 In this context, enhancing Russia’s role and place in the international arena as compatible with promoting the ‘Russian idea’ can be done only with certain limitations: active Russian participation in a Christian–Islamic ‘Clash of Civilisations’, noted a Russian observer, will ‘result in civil war’.95 This insight suggests not only that Russia will have to formulate its policies towards the states of the Islamic world with utmost care, but also that Russian foreign policy might be used to secure popular acceptance of the new Russian state ideology. Third, as is the case with the Islamic states of the CIS, there is a growing understanding that in order to prevent domestic Islam from developing towards extremism, the socio-economic conditions of the predominantly Muslim areas have to be improved.96 Writing on this issue, one observer noted how in Daghestan young people are attracted to Islamic extremism, among other things, because of massive unemployment and a still worsening economy.97 The Russian ambassador to Iran explained how, in his view, the spread of Islamic extremism in Russia could be prevented by ‘economic and political stability’.98 Some of the ‘problem areas’, however, remain at the bottom of the regional stratification index, with the gap between them and the rest of the Russian regions apparently widening.99 Thus it still remains to be seen whether Moscow can effectively redress this imbalance. While the current state of the Russian economy suggests that only little progress, if any at all, can be made, there is little doubt that the implementation of preventive political measures in Russia will take precedence over the cushioning of the impact of economic reform in the CIS’s south. 67

THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION CONCLUSION

The developments surveyed in this chapter have all taken place within a relatively short time rendering any conclusion tentative. Still, a picture can be discerned of relatively great complexity and finely tuned balances. This is especially true with regard to the thin line drawn between ‘extremism’ and ‘fundamentalism,’ both domestically and internationally. In this context three processes should be emphasised. On the international level we might be witnessing the beginning of more extensive cooperation between Russia and a number of Islamic fundamentalist states. The Russians do strive to curb the influence of Islamic extremism. Fundamentalism, on the other hand, is seen as a force that could help to improve Russia’s international standing, and thus ultimately to increase its security. Also, it was suggested that cooperation with fundamentalist states can help increase the sociopolitical cohesion within Russia itself by bringing Muslim minority groups to identify with the Russian state. If implemented successfully, this policy might mark a complete reversal of Soviet-era policies characterised by a use of domestic Islam for international purposes. In Central Asia, the incorporation of the Islamic opposition into the Tajik government demonstrated Moscow’s apprehension of the possible repercussions of the Taliban’s victories in Afghanistan. At the same time, it marked the introduction of what could be a new phase in Russia’s dealings with Islam in the CIS’s south: by accepting and partly accommodating the Islamic opposition, Russia hopes to bring stability to Tajikistan and pre-empt the more extremist version of Islam. Within Russia a more accommodating line also appears to have been launched, aimed at preventing the spread of extremism and secessionism. It is characterised by a greater willingness by the federal centre (1) to grant concessions to the local areas, including Muslim autonomous republics, and (2) to incorporate into a new national ‘Russian idea’ the Muslim population too. One of the attributes of the new ‘Russian idea’ is an emphasis on patriotism. Russia’s dealings with the Islamic world can be used to win Muslim minority support for this idea. However, the new national idea may win general acceptance only if Moscow takes care not to be involved in what could be seen as a crusade against Islam.

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ISLAM IN RUSSIAN SECURITY CONCERNS NOTES 1 See, e.g., A. Kozyrev et al., ‘Consensus on Russia’s Foreign Policy?’, International Affairs, Vol. 42, No. 1 (1996), pp. 21–9; and V. Lukov et al., ‘Growing Support for New Foreign Policy in Russia’, International Affairs, Vol. 42, No. 5/6 (1996), pp. 15–31. 2 In late 1995 Russian Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev described the foreign policy debate as being ‘emotional, politicised, and [going] to extremes’. This, he said, had prompted him to search for a ‘stabiliser – that is . . . some minimal range of foreign policy standards that [will] provide stability for the “state ship” in deep waters’. Kozyrev et al., ‘Consensus on Russia’s Foreign Policy?’, p. 22. 3 A good example is I. Sevostianov, ‘Islamskii fundamentalizm i islamskii ekstremizm – eto s’ovsem ne odno i to zhe [Isamic Fundamentalism and Islamic Extremism are not the same]’, Mezhdunarodnaia Zhizn, No. 5 (1996), pp. 31–40. 4 Izvestiia, 6 March 1996, p. 3. 5 Sevostianov, ‘Islamic Fundamentalism’, p. 31. 6 Ibid., p. 33. As is also the general case, ‘fundamentalism’ is here mostly defined as a residual, by the extremist characteristics which it does not carry; thus Islamic fundamentalism is non-aggressive and does not seek to advance itself through messianism and the turmoil created by local conflicts. 7 Nezavisimaia gazeta, 25 June 1997, p. 3. 8 Krasnaia zvezda, 4 October 1996, p. 1. 9 Izvestiia, 3 October 1996, p. 1. 10 Pravda 5, 27 May 1997, p. 1. 11 Krasnaia zvezda, 13 August 1998, p. 3. 12 See, e.g., Nezavisimaia gazeta, 15 January 1997, p. 4. 13 Primakov in Izvestiia, 27 May 1997, p. 3. See also Nezavisimaia gazeta, 14 August 1998, p. 6. 14 See, e.g., Nezavisimaia gazeta, 29 May 1997, p. 3. 15 Krasnaia zvezda, 13 August 1998, p. 3. In early 1997 Igor Rodionov, then Minister of Defence, told journalists that the Taliban ‘are supported by Pakistan and the USA’; ITAR-TASS, 20 February 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/2580, 22 February 1997, B/9]. 16 Izvestiia, 16 October 1996, p. 2. 17 Ibid., 16 October 1996, p. 2. 18 Izvestiia, 30 October 1996, p. 3. 19 Ibid., loc. cit. 20 Nezavisimaia gazeta, 7 May 1998, p. 1. 21 Krasnaia zvezda, 28 January 1998, p. 2. 22 Maksim Peshkov, in M. Peshkov et al., ‘Moscow’s Role in Tajikistan’, International Affairs, Vol. 43, No. 2 (1997), p. 79. 23 For the overall numbers, see Krasnaia zvezda, 2 October 1997, p. 2 and Pravda, 12 March 1998, p. 2. 24 See the list in Krasnaia zvezda, 12 October 1996, pp. 3–7. 25 I. Khan, ‘Afghanistan. A Geopolitical Study’, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 17, No. 2 (1998), p. 498. 26 Ibid., p. 490. 27 The Tajiks and the Uzbeks in Afghanistan number about 6 m and 1.4 m respectively. 28 ‘Refugees are’, wrote one Russian observer, ‘outstanding catalysts for instability.’ Igor Rotar in Nezavisimaia gazeta, 28 May 1997, p. 3. 29 See report of the October 1996 summit of the Heads of state of Russia,

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30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, in Krasnaia zvezda, 8 October 1996, p. 1. And cf. the comments by Igor Ivanov, Russian First Deputy Foreign Minister, Interfax, 26 May 1997[BBC-SWB-SU/2929, 27 May 1997, G/1]. See, e.g., Ivanov, Interfax, 26 May 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/2929, 27 May 1997, G/1], as well as the comments in Nezavisimaia gazeta, 27 May 1997, p. 1. Pravda 5, 27 May 1997, p. 1. See, e.g., Viktor Posuvaliuk, Russian Deputy Foreign Minister, explaining the principles of Russia’s policy on Afghanistan. Interfax, 17 June 1997 [BBC-SWB5U/2949, 19 June 1997, B/10]. See, e.g., the allegations to this effect in the New York Times, and the subsequent rebuttal by the Russian Foreign Ministry, both in Izvestiia, 31 July 1998, p. 3. Izvestiia, 23 October 1998, p. 2. For the human casualties, see note 23 above. For the annual financial costs of all Russian border control operations, estimated at US$3 bn, see Izvestiia, 22 October 1996, p. 1. Nezavisimaia gazeta, 14 August 1998, p. 1. Izvestiia, 23 October 1998, p. 2. M. Mesbahi, ‘Tajikistan, Iran, and the International Politics of the “Islamic Factor”’, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 16, No. 2 (1997), p. 152f. See interview of Igor Sergeev, Russian Minister of Defence, with NTV, 11 November 1997 [BBC-SWB- 5U/3075, 13 November 1997, 51/1]. For Islamic extremism in the two innermost geographical areas, see below. Pravda, 26 December 1996, p. 3. R. Magnus et al., Afghanistan: Mullah, Marx and Mujahid (Boulder: Westview, 1998), p. 190. See A. Podsterov, ‘Islamskii mir [The Muslim World]’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn, No. 9 (1997), p. 29. Aleksandr Belchuk in ‘Rossiia i mir islama [Russia and the World of Islam]’ Nezavisimaia gazeta – stsenarii, No. 1 (1998), p. 7. See, e.g., Jack Mendelsohn in M. Mandelbaum et al., ‘The Case Against NATO Enlargement’, Current History, No. 97 (March 1998), p. 134. Sevostianov, ‘Islamic Fundamentalism’, p. 40. ‘The potential of these states’, he noted, ‘is obvious.’ Ibid., p. 39. On this issue see, e.g., Y. Ro’i, ‘The Impact of the Islamic Fundamentalist Revival of the Late 1970s on the Soviet View of Islam’, in Ro’i (ed.), The USSR and the Muslim World (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), pp. 150ff. Izvestiia, 19 September 1996, p. 4. For a graphic overview of this pattern, see A. Bennigsen et al., Muslims of the Soviet Empire (London: C. Hurst, 1985), p. ii. S. Solodovnik, ‘The Tajikistan Conflict as a Regional Security Dilemma’, in R. Allison et al. (eds.), Security Dilemmas in Russia and Eurasia (London: The Royal Institute of International Affairs, 1998), p. 231. Experts disagree on whether the Tajik opposition should be regarded as being primarily ‘Islamic’ or whether it is more correct to see it as being ‘regional’ or ‘clan-based’. A more accurate picture would probably emerge from meshing these various labels, since the Islamic opposition draws its strength to a very large extent from politically and economically deprived regions in the south of the country. Having noted this, some commentators still inform the reader that the conflict ‘began on political and religious grounds’ and that ‘the main fight can be portrayed as between the Communist[s] and the Islamists’ – S. Akhmedov,

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52 53

54 55 56 57 58

59 60

61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

‘Konflikty v Tadzhikistane. Prichiny i posledstviia [The Conflicts in Tajikistan. Causes and Effects]’, in A. Malashenko et al. (eds), Tsentralnaya Aziya i Kavkaz (Central Asia and the Caucasus), (Moscow: Ves’ mir, 1997), p. 81; and H. Shirazi, ‘Political Forces and their Structures in Tajikistan’, Central Asian Survey, Vol. 16, No. 4 (1997), p. 618, respectively. On this point, see B. Buzan, People, States and Fear (London: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1991), pp. 198 and 219f. For accounts of the early stages of negotiations, see Peshkov et al., ‘Moscow’s Role in Tajikistan’; and D. Anarkulova ‘Diplomaticheskie usiliia po razresheniiu konflikta v Tadzhikistane (1991–1994 gg.) [Diplomatic Efforts to Solve the Conflict in Tajikistan]’, in Malashenko et al. (eds), Central Asia and the Caucasus, pp. 98ff. SIPRI Yearbook (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), p. 119. Nezavisimaia gazeta, 25 December 1996, p. 3. Nezavisimaia gazeta, 13 March 1997, p. 3. See, e.g., Pravda, 11 March 1997, p. 1. ‘While a negotiated settlement might produce a more equitable outcome than a victory by one side, it also seems likely to foster renewed violence in the short to medium term’, in C. King, Ending Civil Wars, Adelphi Paper, No. 308 (London: The International Institute for Strategic Studies,1997), p. 25. Solodovnik, ‘The Tajikistan Conflict as a Regional Security Dilemma’, p. 234. On the costs, see A. Niiazi, ‘Tadzhikistan. Regionalnie aspekty konflikta (1990e gg.) [Tajikistan. The Regional Aspects of the Conflict]’, in Malashenko et al., Central Asia and the Caucasus, p. 52. See also Mardanov, R., ‘Etnokonfessional’nie konflikty v regionakh Islama: Prichiny i osobennosti [EthnoConfessional Conflicts in Islamic Regions: Causes and Peculiarities]’, in ibid., pp. 35–50. Nezavisimaia gazeta, 12 March 1997, p. 3. S. Mikoyan, ‘Russia the US and Regional Conflict in Eurasia’, Survival, Vol. 40, No. 3 (1998), p. 115. ITAR-TASS, 24 April 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/2902, 24 April 1997, B/8]. For the text of the agreement, see Khovar News Agency, 28 June 1997 [BBCSWB-SU/2958, 30 June 1997, G/2]. Pastukhov in Izvestiia, 14 August 1997, p. 2. Interfax, 27 June 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/2957, 28 June 1997, G/1]. Pravda, 25 December 1996, p. 1. Nezavisimaia gazeta, 22 August 1997, p. 3. See note 31 above. Radio Ekho Moskvy, 11 August 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/2996, 13 August 1997, B/6]. Mikoyan, ‘Russia the US and Regional Conflict in Eurasia’, p. 121. S. Razov, ‘V novoi Tsentralnoi Azii [In the New Central Asia]’, Mezhdunarodnaia zhizn, No. 3 (1997), p. 42. Pravda, 5 February 1998, p. 1. M. Webber, The International Politics of Russia and the Successor States (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1996), p. 288 and A. Becker, ‘Russia and Economic Integration in the CIS’, Survival, Vol. 38, No. 4 (1996–97), pp. 29ff. Becker, ‘Russia and Economic Integration’, p. 130. See Anatolii Gromyko in ‘Rossiia i mir islama’, Nezavisimaia gazeta – stsenarii, No. 1 (1998), p. 6 and Podtserov, ‘The Muslim World’, p. 27. See Semen Bagdasarov in Nezavisimaia gazeta – Religii, 20 May 1998, p. 4; Denga Khalidov et al., in ibid., 24 July 1997, p. 4; and Sevostianov, ‘Islamic Fundamentalism’, p. 37.

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THE CASPIAN: A RE-EMERGING REGION 78 Pravda, 26 December 1996, p. 3 and Marat Razhbandinov in Nezavisimaia gazeta – Religii, 20 May 1998, p. 4. 79 See Pravda, 5 February 1998, p. 1; Nezavisimaia gazeta – Religii, 24 July 1997, p. 4, as well as ibid., 20 May 1998, p. 4. For an example of a Western study sharing the same predictions, see, S. Lehmann, ‘Islam and Ethnicity in the Republics of Russia’, Post-Soviet Affairs, Vol. 13, No. 1 (1997), pp. 78–103. 80 See Buzan, People, States and Fear, pp. 82ff, 96ff. This lack of socio-political cohesion is clearly indicated by the ongoing debate over a new all-embracing ‘Russian idea’. 81 Part III of the National Security Doctrine, Rossiiskaia gazeta, 26 December 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/3114, 1 January 1998, 52/5]. 82 NTV, 11 November 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/3075, 13 November 1997, 51/1]. 83 Nezavisimaia gazeta, 28 November 1996, p. 5 84 Mesbahi, ‘Tajikistan, Iran and International Politics of the “Islamic Factor”’, p. 153. 85 Nezavisimaia gazeta, 28 November 1996, p. 5. 86 Ibid., p. 5. 87 1bid., p. 5. 88 Nezavisimaia gazeta – Religii, 24 July 1997, p. 4. There is little doubt that as used in this survey, the term ‘fundamentalism’ is the equivalent of ‘extremism’ as this latter was defined above. 89 Sevostianov, ‘Islamic Fundamentalism’, p. 32. 90 Rossiiskaia gazeta, 26 December 1997 [BBC-SWB-SU/3114, 1 January 1998, 52/8]. 91 Nezavisimaia gazeta – Religii, 23 October 1997, p. 4. 92 The multi-ethnic character of the RF is repeatedly emphasised in the Security Doctrine. 93 T. Winderl, ‘Nationalstaat Rußland?’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft, Vol. 26, No. 3 (1997), pp. 243–55. 94 G. Simon, ‘Rußland auf der Suche nach seiner politischen Identität’, Berichte des BIOst, No. 33 (Cologne, 1997), p. 10. See also G. Breslauer et al., ‘Boris Yeltsin and the Invention of a Russian Nation-state’, Post-Soviet Affairs, Vol. 13, No. 4 (1997), pp. 303–32. 95 Anatolii Gromyko in ‘Rossiia i mir islama’, Nezavisimaia gazeta – stsenarii, No. 1 (1998), p. 6. 96 A large number of these clearly fall far below average living standards in today’s Russia – see, e.g., H. Balzer, ‘Russia’s Middle Classes’, Post-Soviet Affairs, Vol. 14, No. 2 (1998), Tables 2 and 4, pp. 175 and 180. 97 Marat Razhbandinov in Nezavisimaia gazeta – Religii, 20 May 1998, p. 4. 98 Pravda, 26 December 1996, p. 3. 99 Balzer, ‘Russia’s Middle Classes’, Table 4, p. 180. This is in an economy still struggling to achieve real growth.

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4

Central Asia and Russia; Francophone Africa and France: Parallels and Differences Moshe Gammer

An established axiom among historians states that, to put it sharply, ‘There are neither similarities nor parallels in history’. Ergo: no comparison between different phenomena is legitimate, since any similarities can only be general, vague and superficial. Nevertheless, a comparison between historical situations, as long as it is not simplistic and mechanical and if taken cum grano salis, might be an additional useful tool for a better grasp of and a deeper insight into historical realities. This chapter attempts to add such a tool to understanding the post-Soviet Central Asian states by comparing their relationship with the Russian Federation to that of the post-colonial states of francophone Africa with France. It does not attempt to compare the states and societies of the two groups. The differences between, and indeed within, each of the two groups are too numerous and obvious. Nor does it attempt to enter the argument on whether the case of Russia and the Soviet Union is at all one of ‘Colonialism’ and ‘Imperialism’ as defined with regard to the maritime, West European Powers. Finally, this chapter does not overlook the variances in time between the two phenomena, both those related to chronology – three decades separate the two – and those related to the global environment. One can think of several obvious differences: the geographical setting – the French colonies were overseas, Central Asia is adjacent to Russia; the fact that, in comparison to the great ethnic, religious and cultural diversity of francophone Africa, Central Asia is relatively homogeneous; the specifics of the colonisation, colonial administration and de-colonisation; the great variation between the two Imperial powers, their political and administrative cultures and style. 73

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Furthermore, in the case of Russia there are basic differences between the Imperial (Tsarist) and the Soviet periods. One may even say that one deals with two different powers and claim, therefore, that Central Asia was colonised twice within several decades. To this one should add the widespread thesis, almost an axiom, in all parts of the exUSSR, that regards the Soviet Union as the colonial power and Russia – one of its colonies. Nevertheless, many apparent similarities, or in a more cautious expression associations, justify such an attempt. Before doing that, however, a clear definition is needed of the two groups of states to be dealt with in this article: the term ‘Central Asia’ covers the five Muslim ex-Soviet republics of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. Muslim Azerbaijan and Christian Armenia and Georgia are not included here. It is true that as far as their relationship with Russia is concerned they fall within a similar category to the Central Asian states; nevertheless, significant differences in history, geography and culture set them apart. The term ‘francophone Africa’ covers the 14 French ex-colonies in Western and Central Africa, namely: Benin, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, the Central African Republic, Chad, Congo, Gabon, Guinea, the Ivory Coast, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Senegal and Togo. It does not include states not adjacent to those mentioned above, such as Madagascar. PARALLELS

The most striking likeness is the fact that both groups of states – or rather their leaders – did not on the whole ask for independence and tried to resist it. Having realised that separation was inevitable, they fought with their teeth to keep the strongest ties possible with the metropolitan power and to institutionalise them in an organisational structure. In francophone Africa of the late 1950s and early 1960s, Félix Houphouet-Boigny, ex-cabinet minister and Assemblée Nationale deputy in Paris and now (that is, in the late 1950s and early 1960s) president of the Ivory Coast, ‘rejected for Africans of French culture the political solution which Dr Nkrumah had won for the Gold Coast (Ghana) [i.e. complete independence]’, seeking instead ‘a community of peoples, equal and fraternal’.1 Léopold Sédar Senghor, now (again, in the late 1950s and early 1960s) president of Senegal, called for ‘European–African cooperation’ because it was ‘in the interests of these countries, once their nominal independence is achieved, not to separate from their former mother [sic], but to achieve new ties, based on liberty, equality and co-operation’.2 74

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More than thirty years later the leaders of the five Central Asian Republics – four of them ex-Secretaries-General of the Republican Central Committees of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) – tried to forestall by all possible means the dissolution of the USSR. Since the August 1991 coup attempt, the Central Asian leaders had backed Gorbachev in his demand for a strong centre. President Nursultan Nazarbayev of Kazakhstan was in the forefront of those arguing for a strong centre in order to keep the military, the nuclear arsenal, the currency and the economy under a single control. He was firmly backed by the other Central Asian leaders – except for the president of Kyrgyzstan.3 Once the fate of the Soviet Union had been decided, however, on 8 December at the Bela Vezha summit of the leaders of the three Slavic republics of the (then still existing) USSR – Russia, the Ukraine and Belarus – the leaders of the Central Asian republics applied enormous efforts to join the new structure, the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) established at that summit. On 12 December they convened an urgent summit in Ashkhabad. On the following day they sat down together at a press conference and declared . . . that they were willing to join the CIS, but on the basis of equality. They demanded that they too be made founder members of the CIS . . . A week later, on 21 December 1991 in Alma Ata, the Capital of Kazakhstan, the new CIS was formed.4

Several reasons drove the leaders of both the francophone states in Africa and the newly independent states of Central Asia to cling to their respective metropolitan power. Problems of State- and Nation-Building As in other parts of the Third World, most of the French colonies in Africa were created artificially by the colonial power. They therefore reflected French interests and priorities (and the strategic balance between France and other colonial powers), not local realities – geographical, ethnic, linguistic or other. In fact, each colony – later to become an independent state – encompassed different ethnic groups, while many ethnic groups were divided by the new borders between (or even among) different states and empires. Unexpectedly independent, the new states lacked almost completely the infrastructure needed for it. Furthermore, until then they were merely administrative divisions within a larger unit. To France they were not ‘Colonies’ but ‘France Overseas’. The French therefore 75

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‘adopted policies to integrate them into a single Greater France revolving about Paris’.5 Besides, almost all French colonies in subSaharan Africa were clustered in two ‘federations’: French West Africa and French Equatorial Africa. As independence approached there was much talk of either retaining these federations or, after France had dissolved them, creating alternative ones. The advantages were clear: Senghor, for example, has argued very strongly that a federal union with France could have real meaning only if each of the partners to it was strong and autonomous. He therefore demanded the maintenance and strengthening of the two federations of African colonies . . . as a prior condition of Franco-African community.6

These plans did not materialise for many reasons – competition among states, antagonism among groups, personal rivalries and, most important, economic realities (see below) and French discouragement.7 Most, if not all, of the newly independent states therefore lacked many of the required bureaucratic tools and much of the needed political and administrative experience. More importantly, most if not all of them lacked a clearly defined identity of their own, not to say a common ‘nationhood’ that could rally their population around the new state. They were, in fact, territories not corresponding to polities. They had, therefore, to begin the extremely difficult and complex process of nation- and state-building – nation-states being the international norm in the twentieth century – almost from scratch. Furthermore, they had to do it within their existing territorial confines, since the sanctity of colonial borders has become an axiom in post-colonial international relations. At first glance the newly independent states of Central Asia seem to be completely different from francophone Africa, since each of them has evolved around a specific titular nation. However, both the new nations and the states were to a large extent artificial creations. First, the five (or rather six, since the Karakalpaks were defined as a separate nationality and given an autonomous republic of their own within Uzbekistan) did not exist before the 1924 Soviet razmezhevanie (demarcation) of Central Asia.8 Thus, separate new literary languages, national histories and past, national cultures and traditions were invented where ‘there existed a steadily evolving consciousness’ of ‘belonging to a common culture and a more or less unified historical tradition based on Islam and a shared Irano-Turkic heritage’.9 Second, the boundaries between the newly created nations were artificial and blurred, not always unintentionally. Some nomadic 76

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tribes – for example the Mangyt, Kungrat, Kiyat, Ktay and Keneges – found themselves divided between two, or even among more ‘nations’. Amid the settled population ‘in some areas the lines separating Tajiks from Uzbeks are far more fluid than the mutually exclusive juridical categories of nationality would suggest’.10 Third, the creation of the new nations ‘was designed to replace the sub-national loyalties and awareness (such as those relating to the clan and tribe)’ and ‘supra-national consciousness (religion, panTurkism)’ with ‘allegiances to modern Soviet nations’. However, this ‘intended national consciousness was never intended to go beyond its role as a saboteur of other consciousnesses’. It ‘was never intended, especially, to develop and evolve into anything approximating a modern national consciousness’.11 Thus, as everywhere else in the USSR the process of nation-building was impeded by recurrent purges during the Stalinist period and by Soviet efforts to inculcate the populace with ‘Soviet patriotism’ and ‘proletarian internationalism’. Nevertheless, this experiment in nation-creating has proved more successful than the Soviet authorities had intended, and the new nations have become living entities ‘notable for their growing attachment to the more exclusive and proprietary notions of modern nationalism’.12 However, this new, modern nationalism has not replaced the older, traditional identities. It has, probably, been more successful in the case of supra-national identities, but failed with the sub-national ones. Among the historically settled population ‘region of residence’ (mahalla), which ‘has long been a principal axis of identity’,13 remained intact and has probably even been reinforced. It has played a major role in the internal politics of Uzbekistan,14 and in Tajikistan it even proved stronger then the Soviet-created national identity.15 Among the previously nomadic population – including nomadic Uzbeks – clan and tribe solidarity have remained strong and stay the basis for ‘national’ politics.16 Although in principle ‘national’ states, with their own political, administrative, economic and cultural institutions, the newly established Central Asian republics reflected the Soviet goal of impeding their nation-building. First, the political/administrative borders of none equalled the confines of its titular nation. In fact the boundaries were delineated in such a way as to leave sizeable groups of each titular nation as minorities within the neighbouring states.17 This naturally hampered national consolidation.18 Second, during most of the Soviet period, the massive immigration from other – mainly the European – parts of the USSR to these republics was encouraged and in some instances even forced. This resulted in the creation of a considerable ‘russophone population’ (russkoiazychnoe nasselenie), education in Russian being the only alternative 77

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to education in the titular language, in each. The purpose, quite successful in some cases, was to prevent the titular nationality from forming a solid majority in its own republic.19 Furthermore, to the Soviet leaders all the republics of the USSR were merely administrative units. The Central Asian republics were, therefore, never meant to exist on their own or designed to be viable units; they were parts of a larger body. This is clearly reflected in their borders, which do not correspond to geographical and economic (and ethnic, as mentioned above) realities. Thus, for example, within the present borders, travel during winter between the northern and southern parts of Kyrgyzstan and of Tajikistan can be done either by air or via Uzbekistan only. Similarly, travel overland from the southern and central part of Uzbekistan to Khiva can be done solely through Turkmenistan. Finally, like the francophone states, the central Asian states unexpectedly given independence lacked the bureaucratic tools and political and administrative experience to run an independent state. It is true that all the republics had their own governments, parliaments, bureaucracies and national cadres and leadership. But these were no more then figureheads. The real power was vested in Moscow and exercised through the CPSU, which was one and undivided. Many in the ‘ruling’ elites, who had never dealt with foreign relations, economic planning, or generally been in positions of real responsibility, found themselves overnight compelled to rule. Economic Dependence Most ex-French colonies in Africa have remained economically tied to, and dependent on, France. To start with, France’s policies . . . in her African colonies led to their complete dependence on her for their survival. The French parliament provided funds in colonial times to balance the budget of colonial territories and provide social services. France continued to play this role after independence, thus deepening their dependence on the former metropole for support and even survival.20

Even those states that could maintain themselves economically have been dependent on France as the trading partner and source of skilled manpower. The realities of world trade in the second half of the twentieth century have been such that while First World states overwhelmingly import from, and export to each other, the lion’s share of Third World countries’ trade is with the First World. Trapped in this situation, many francophone, indeed Third World, states 78

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found it more convenient (if not compelling) to follow the trodden path of economic interaction with the previous colonial power. This way, a market was assured without having to engage in too tough a competition, the economy was saved unnecessary upheavals, and the flow of financial and technical assistance was not interrupted. No less important, the movement of manpower from France was not hindered either. The import of skilled manpower is a substantial need of all developing economies until national personnel is trained. Thus, the faster a Third World economy grows, the greater the number of foreign nationals employed in it. Francophone states in Africa depended heavily on French skilled personnel and the stronger the economy the more French citizens one could have found residing in that country.21 All this meant that contrary to some Africans’ hopes for ‘une symbiose nouvelle’22 with the metropolitan power, French economic control continued and was cemented by the ‘Franc zone’ and the various bilateral agreements between the metropolitan power and the ex-colonies. This dominance of France was not affected by the creation of the European Economic Community (EEC) in 195723 and seems to have begun to weaken only in recent years under the pressure of American competition. These realities of world trade were also a major (though by far not the single) reason for the failure of the many efforts by Francophone states to establish viable regional structures of their own (that is without the participation of the ex-colonial power). Third World economies do not complement, but rather compete with, each other. This inability to form regional blocks strengthened further the dependence of each of the ex-colonies on France. The failure to create a block of their own left the francophone states more dependent on France and exposed to its dominance. It is true that the Soviet economy – in theory as well as in practice – is hardly comparable to Western ones and that the global economic environment of the early 1990s cannot be compared to that of the early 1960s. Nevertheless, it is not at all wrong to state that the Central Asian states were integrated into and dependent on the economy of Russia more than their francophone counterparts into and on that of France. This has been even more the case after the dissolution of the USSR and the following collapse of the Soviet economy. Soviet economic planning referred to the entire USSR as a single economic entity and ignored the existence of different republics. Moreover, contrary to Marxist theory, in Soviet reality political needs overruled economic considerations. This meant, inter alia, that, even if this was ‘un-economic’, the different parts of the USSR were tied down to each other by as many economic strings as possible, all 79

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passing via, and controlled by the Kremlin. Moscow was, thus, ‘an economic and financial spiderweb’ to which the Central Asian republics ‘were tied . . . by thousands of threads, from electricity grids to oil pipelines to telephone lines’ and ‘from which no leader . . . could ever see himself disentangled’.24 Furthermore, this economic integration of the different parts of the USSR was done on such a scale as to prevent regional economic blocs. A factory in Uzbekistan, for example, would operate machinery produced in Estonia on electricity from Kyrgyzstan, in order to assemble parts imported from Siberia and Georgia. The produce would then be sold in the Ukraine. All these activities would be planned and supervised by Moscow.25 With new political borders cutting off longestablished routes of supply and the need for cash in the so called ‘transformation to market economy’ replacing what used to be largely a barter market, all post-Soviet economies have been in decline for several years. Under these conditions the dependence of Central Asian states on Russia has grown.26 In addition, the Central Asian republics were dependent on russophone skilled manpower more than the francophone states of Africa were on French technical and professional personnel. Both the numbers of non-local staff and the fields in which they were involved were by far more numerous than in francophone Africa. In all five Central Asian republics russophone managers, accountants, engineers, technicians and skilled workers were vital to the running of the economy, and russophone professionals – doctors, nurses, teachers etc. – for maintaining the services provided by the state. The need to keep them added weight in favour of tight ties with Russia.27 The question whether Moscow economically exploited or subsidised the Central Asian republics is now at the centre of debate between the two, one that is clearly political. However, the economic realities of political independence – first and foremost the decline and the transformation to market economy – impose on the Central Asian republics the need for foreign aid. Russia, in the midst of similar economic trouble is not a source of aid, at least not in the foreseeable future. However, that does not mean that the Central Asian states are not at all dependent on Moscow on this issue. Russian goodwill is needed since a great deal of aid has been channelled, especially at the beginning, via Moscow and many of the joint development and economic projects with Western partners involve Russian participation. Furthermore, the future of international economic involvement in, and aid to, Central Asia depends on political stability and security in the area, both of which are to a large extent dependent on Russia’s attitudes. In view of these Soviet and post-Soviet economic realities and the 80

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balance of trade between the First and Third worlds it is little wonder that no one took seriously the possibility of a Central Asian bloc, least of all the Central Asian leaders themselves. It is true that in the Ashkhabad summit (12 December 1991) they ‘spoke bravely of how they would form a new Central Asian common market’, but everyone knew that for the time being these were merely words. Their faces showed their real fears. Since 1917 Central Asia has become little more than an economic colony for Moscow . . . When the powerhouse had seemed to be built on sand, Central Asia had nowhere else to turn.28

All they intended to do by raising the issue was only to add an extra device to pressure the three ‘Slavic’ presidents into letting the Central Asian republics into the newly formed CIS. Concerns of Security Meagre economic resources are a major reason for the modest size of the military forces of the francophone states. The fact that no regional power threatens these states has been an important factor in shaping the decision not to invest scarce resources in building large armed forces. After all, South Africa, Egypt and other African ‘superpowers’ are far away geographically and have been engaged in other directions. Thus, apart from being a necessary symbol of sovereignty, the armed forces of the francophone states are usually barely sufficient to provide internal security. They are too small and not properly equipped to counter foreign threats and in some cases even serious internal ones.29 To deal with such eventualities these states have to rely on the French umbrella. Furthermore, the small national armies, based on the French troupes coloniales,30 rely heavily, even exclusively, on French financing, equipment, logistics, personnel and training. This dependence on France is greater by far when it comes to security and intelligence agencies. These are practically intertwined with the French services. The meaning of these facts is that the military and security organisations of the francophone states are connected directly to France by multiple links – personal, professional, economic, institutional, historical – bypassing their official chain of command. France has thus had the ability to influence, even manipulate and use, them directly above the heads of their own governments. In other words, France has been in the position of final arbiter able to either stage, support, encourage, discourage, prevent and foil coups or, as a last resort, to intervene directly.31 81

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As in the case of francophone Africa, the armed forces of the Central Asian states are very small in size. They are barely sufficient for internal security and not at all corresponding to the external threats, existing or potential. Unlike francophone Africa, Central Asia is surrounded by regional (and even global) superpowers that are perceived as threats by its governments.32 Their need for a Russian security umbrella is, therefore, by far more acute. The Central Asian states inherited their national armed forces from their Soviet predecessors. Since, however, the Soviet armed forces remained in the main in the possession of Russia, the Central Asian states had to build their forces almost from scratch making use of whatever remnants they were left with from the Soviet armed forces. This has made them heavily dependent on Russian personnel, equipment and training and on operational cooperation with Russia’s armed forces. One can assume that this dependence on Russia is by far greater when one moves to security and intelligence services. Since in both Russia and the Central Asian states these are successors of the KGB, one can only wonder how far could, and do, Central Asian leaders rely on the unconditional obedience and loyalty of their own security services. Assimilated Elite France followed a policy of assimilation in her colonies. This policy was based on the assumption that Africans could be made to become French in all respects. Those Africans who became assimilated enjoyed the rights and privileges of French citizens [and] no avenue of advancement was closed to them . . . Such persons usually were recognised by French society as French citizens.33

Furthermore, French colonial administration ‘aimed at creating a capable elite, groomed and indoctrinated in French culture’34 and invested a great deal of effort and money to achieve this goal. The result was that the French African elite developed a special emotional tie with France and with everything French. Paris, the metropolitan capital, became a second home to these assimilated gentlemen. They developed French manners and tastes . . . While the African elite in British colonies was pressing for constitutional reforms which should grant them political concessions towards territorial self rule, the évolués in French Africa were demanding citizens’ rights within the framework of Greater France to which they were culturally and intellectually attached.35 82

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The independence offered by Charles de Gaulle was a tremendously shocking volte-face, which generated strong reactions and an intense debate in the French colonies.36 Considering itself part of the metropolitan establishment, the elite of francophone Africa felt betrayed and rejected by their ‘mother’ – to use Senghor’s metaphor. On a more personal level, leaders such as Senghor and HouphouetBoigny suddenly discovered that – to paraphrase a Mishna’ic coin – they had been turned into ‘heads of foxes’ instead of remaining ‘tails of lions’.37 In other words, they considered themselves to be demoted from the heights of Parisian politics to head new, obscure states. This shock, anger, disappointment, feeling of betrayal should suffice to supply psychological explanations to their vehement opposition to independence and their outstanding efforts to cement the strongest ties possible between the new independent states and France. But there were other, more ‘down to earth’ reasons: on the level of Realpolitik these leaders realised very clearly all the enormous difficulties ahead of their new states and the necessity to be supported by a great power. And if this was the case, it was preferable to remain within the orbit of France. According to Senghor, an underdeveloped country which has achieved nominal independence cannot acquire real independence if it remains underdeveloped. It must obtain external aid. The solution can be found in its entry into a larger ensemble, in the form of a confederacy . . . Long continued ties and economic relations, and a common language of an international character have created links which it would be catastrophic to break. Africa and Europe are genuinely complementary, in terms of politics, economics and culture.38

Furthermore, a wide social and cultural gap existed between the ‘modernised’, French educated and oriented elite, and the lower strata (the sujets of the colonial period) with their traditional culture, values and way of life. Perceiving itself as ‘Africa’s true representatives’39 the elite regarded its own culture, values and outlook as superior and as destined to replace eventually the traditional ones. However, this was a hope for the distant future. At the moment, with France leaving, it felt weak and exposed to a very substantial threat to its very survival and staying in power. Thus the need for French backing. Russia, like France, has had a strong sense of mission civilisatrice. Tsarist Russia was eager to spread Pravoslav, that is Russian Orthodox Christian civilisation. The USSR was no less eager to proselytise Soviet, that is Russian Marxist(-Leninist) culture. In both cases the universal ideology was wrapped in Russian colouring. This 83

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missionary urge led both to pursue policies of assimilation in their empires. Tsarist Russia made an effort, not always systematic, to coopt and assimilate the elites of the annexed territories. Indeed, some elements of the Central Asian elite were Russified, at least partially. They received education in Russian schools, made Russian one of their main vehicles, and were influenced by Russian literature, thought and politics. The Soviet regime attempted at first to create a new, Soviet, man and society. It tried, therefore, to reach and change each individual. Soon, however, Stalin gave up this task and concentrated on the Sovietisation of the elite only.40 In this task the Soviet success has been quite remarkable. The present national elites of Central Asia have been fully integrated into Soviet society and culture. Like the évolués, these Sovietised comrades have developed a special emotional tie with the metropolitan national culture. They have adopted Russian manners and tastes and feel at home in Moscow and Leningrad more than in their places of birth. Those coming from a tradition of resistance to Russian conquest and rule have developed a distinction between an abstract ‘Russia’ they hate and Russian culture which they adore. Educated in Russian-language schools – such an education opened more opportunities than learning in national-language institutions – members of this elite are in many cases fully proficient in Russian. Many of them can recite entire poems by Pushkin and Lermontov but are unable to utter a correct sentence in their own national language.41 But even those with full mastery of their own language prefer, or find it easier on many occasions, to use Russian.42 Politically and psychologically the Central Asian cadres of the nomenklatura formed an integral part of the Soviet state. The existence of their national republics was irrelevant in this context. The polity which they were part of was the Soviet Union. The top position to aim for was not the secretary-general of the Republican CC of the CPSU, but membership in the CC, or even the politburo in the Kremlin. Positions in the national republics were power bases to be used as springboards for a career in Moscow. That was the focus of Nazarbayev’s loyalties, not Kazakhstan – of which he was then the secretary-general of the party, and the future president. In 1991, before the coup, he published a book criticising Gorbachev’s priorities in his perestroika. Nazarbayev argued that Gorbachev’s strategy was a prescription for disaster and that it should be implemented in the opposite order, that is economic reforms should precede political liberalisation (in other words, that the USSR should follow the Chinese model).43 The aborted coup of August 1991 triggered a chain reaction that began with the banning of the Communist party and ended with the 84

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dissolution of the Soviet Union. For Nazarbayev and the other Central Asian leaders these were traumatic events: These heirs of Gengiz Khan’s warrior nomads and Stalin’s communist party machine had suddenly been orphaned; everything they had known for the past seventy four years was disappearing before their eyes.44

Especially shocking was Russia’s attempt to shake off the other, mainly non-Slavic, republics. Understandably, their reaction was reminiscent of that of francophone African leaders three decades earlier: they struggled with all their strength to cling to ‘mother Russia’. As in francophone Africa at the time of independence, a deep cultural and social gap divides the Central Asian elites from the lower strata of their societies.45 Yet there is one major difference that magnifies the Central Asian elites’ dependence on Russia: however threatened they felt, the elites of francophone Africa of the 1960s46 were convinced that theirs was the only culture, and as such was destined to supersede the traditional one among all layers of society. The Central Asian elites of the 1990s are vestiges of a defeated culture and a system challenged by alternatives – Western, Chinese and several Islamic. Each of these is a menace to the very existence of the Central Asian elites, not merely to their monopoly of power. The challenges emanating from the models of Turkey, Iran and Afghanistan seem to these elites particularly dangerous because of the shared Islamic and Turco-Iranian heritage common to those and the Central Asian societies. Russia is, thus, the only guarantor of their very survival as has been clearly demonstrated in Tajikistan.47 DIFFERENCES

If the parallels seem to draw more strongly the states of Central Asia to Russia than their francophone counterparts to France, the differences seem to fortify this tendency. Territorial Proximity to Russia Central Asia is thousands of kilometres removed from Moscow exactly as francophone Africa is thousands of kilometres away from Paris. Yet while seas and lands separate France and francophone Africa, Central Asia is adjacent to Russia. Two of the newly independent states – Kazkhstan and Kyrgyzstan – actually border on Russia and all the Central Asian capital cities are nearer than Moscow to that 85

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border. The consequences are fairly obvious. Territorial contiguity enables one, inter alia, to flex one’s muscles faster, on a more massive scale, with less expense and sometimes more efficiently.48 This is a fact no government in Central Asia can ignore.49 Proximity also allows for much more massive contacts between the populations of the involved states. After all, an overland journey is by far simpler and cheaper than sea or air travel. These massive contacts, in turn, not only augment the Central Asian states’ dependence on Russia, but provide Moscow with a lever – the threat to cut such contacts at will. Large Russophone Population As stated above, the numbers of russophones in the Central Asian republics are incomparable to those of the French residents of francophone Africa. While the French inhabitants in African countries have never surpassed a couple of dozen thousands in any of them and totalled in all of the area no more than 100,000 out of about 90 million inhabitants (i.e. about 0.1 per cent) the lowest number of russophones in any Central Asian republic was above 400,000 and their total number in the region almost 12.5 million out of a population of almost 50 million (that is c. 25 per cent).50 This is a clear case of quantity becoming quality. The sheer numbers of the russophones make them irreplaceably crucial in running the economies, services and bureaucracies of the new states of Central Asia, at least in the foreseeable future. Naturally these states are eager to reinsure the russophones and entice them to stay. They have gone to great lengths to do so, but to secure any measure of success they need Russia’s cooperation on this matter. Furthermore, if they want this large population to stay, they must enable it to maintain its vital cultural, social and other ties to the mother country. There is, however, another important reason for the need to keep close ties with Russia: in any possible conflict of interests between Moscow and the new independent states this population might react by emigration. Worse from the Central Asian states’ perspective, it might be used by Russia against them. The way to forestall both possibilities is to maintain tight cooperation with Moscow. In two Central Asian states the russophone population is by far more massive. In Kazakhstan they are about half the population and in Kyrgyzstan well over a quarter.51 In both a big part of it is rural and occupies large continuums of territory. To both, therefore, this is a further, primary incentive for close cooperation with Russia. To Kyrgyzstan the large russophone population is less of a problem than to Kazakhstan. It is less massive in both numbers and proportion, its 86

Map 3: Central Asia: Chinese Territorial Claims in the 1970s

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relationship with the local population is relatively free of friction and, most important, to the Kyrgyz Russia is the historical ally and protector against the traditional enemies China and Uzbekistan, a fact that influences the relationship between them and the Russians. To Kazakhstan this is far more than merely an important question. Apart from being half of the population and their vital role in running the state and its economy, the russophones form a solid majority in roughly the northern half of the country. Therefore, in case of dissatisfaction this population will not emigrate (emigration itself being bad enough) but rather secede, which is a sure prescription for civil war, (that is if Russia does not get dragged in). Assuring this large part of the population its proper share of the cake is further complicated by the traditional antagonism between it and the Kazakhs, to whom Russia is an historical enemy, and the ‘Russians’ – colonists who had grabbed Kazakh lands.52 All this dictates tight coordination with Russia as a precondition to Kazakhstan’s very survival. Proximity to Regional Superpowers Unlike the francophone states of Africa, the Central Asian countries are neighbouring on, and surrounded by strong regional superpowers. In fact, the proper analogy should probably be to Saudi Arabia and the other Gulf Arab states, not to francophone Africa. Like the Gulf states, most of the Central Asian republics are rich in resources and poor in population. Like the Gulf states their more powerful neighbours, who are also historical and traditional enemies, would not object to adding the much needed Central Asian resources to their economies and budgets. Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan have apprehensions with regard to China. Both ex-nomadic societies feel overshadowed by the giant to the east, who is also the historical enemy of all the nomads north and west of it. Many people in both states remember well the Chinese territorial claims against the USSR in the 1960s and 1970s, which cover about half the territory of Kyrgyzstan and great territorial chunks of Kazakhstan, including its former capital city, Almaty.53 Both states are aware that China has never officially renounced these claims even if it has not raised them in recent years. Therefore, recent immigration of Chinese has caused alarm in both.54 Uzbekistan also considers China as a menace. But the main threats in Tashkent’s eyes are Iran and Pakistan, both traditional rivals of any power centred on Transoxania. What makes both powers particularly dangerous is the potential use by each of Islam to extend their influence in Central Asia, as they have already done in Afghanistan.55 This perception of Islam in one form or another as a danger is shared by 88

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all other Central Asian states.56 Finally, Turkmenistan feels particularly threatened by neighbouring Iran, the traditional sedentary, Shi‘ite enemy of the nomad, Sunni Turkmen tribes. Russia is one of these neighbouring powers. With the exception of Kyrgyzstan, it is also one of their historical enemies. Nevertheless, all of them prefer to remain within Moscow’s fold over any other alternative. One can put forward several reasons for this choice – the survival of the present elites, the continuation of the present state of independence and others. Yet the two main reasons are most probably the fear common to all of them of becoming the battlefield of rival powers. It is clear to everyone that the involvement of the immediately neighbouring powers will invoke the intervention of others, whose interests will be affected. Remaining under the Russian umbrella is the only way to avoid it, since it is the only power with both the legitimisation and strength to keep the hands of others off. Also, as the saying goes, ‘Better the devil you know than a new one.’ Attaching oneself to another Power entails a great deal of changes, adjustment to a different culture, and the need to learn a new language (in the broadest meaning of the word), modus operandi and way of thinking. To remain within Russia’s fold, on the other hand, means to stay within a familiar environment in which the Central Asian elites feel at home and know which buttons to push. The choice of the Central Asian leadership is, therefore, obvious. Rivalries among Central Asian States As mentioned above, personal and state rivalries in francophone Africa enhanced dependence on France indirectly, by contributing to the inability to form regional blocs. In central Asia such personal and state/national antagonisms have been a major direct cause for the need to remain within Russia’s fold, inter alia, because behind them lie traditional rivalries with a long history. All of these rivalries focus on Uzbekistan. The strongest and most developed, having the largest population and apparently the most advanced in national consolidation, Uzbekistan regards itself the natural leader of a Central Asian bloc. But it is also among the poorest states in the region with regard to resources and the finances badly needed for development. The advantages to Uzbekistan – economic, political and strategic, regional as well as international – of being the leader of such a bloc are selfevident.57 However, Uzbekistan needs Russian backing to reach this goal. In no way can Tashkent accomplish it against Moscow’s wishes. Nor can Uzbekistan under present conditions seriously consider enlisting the support of another power. But Uzbekistan’s claim to regional leadership has created 89

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antagonism and revived old fears and feuds. A major traditional rivalry reborn now in a modern, national, form is that between settled and nomad societies. Uzbekistan covers the lion’s share of the traditional territory of the ancient settled civilisation in Central Asia, and is regarded by itself and others as its heir. The Kyrgyz, Kazakhs and Turkmen, although mostly settled now, are still considered by themselves and their neighbours as the heirs of the nomadic traditions and values. The memories of this old rivalry are still very much alive, though couched now in the new terminology. Thus, according to a young Kyrgyz scholar they [the Uzbeks] used to be confined to their settlements while we were wandering all over the countryside. We used to come into their settlements to the markets, where they used to cheat us. But we used to get even if any of them dared to get out of their settlements into the open: we would than decapitate him.58

This old rivalry has been revived due to the upsurge of nationalism and the fears of the use made of Islam by some Uzbek nationalists, who contrast ‘good’ Muslims (i.e. the Uzbeks) with ‘bad’ (i.e. the Kyrgyz, Kazakhs and Turkmen) with all the implied meanings and consequences of this terminology.59 The Kyrgyz and Turkmen feel particularly threatened, being the weakest of the Central Asian states but also among the richest in resources and in possession of facilities needed by Uzbekistan. To both, Russia is the only power they can turn to for protection, their other neighbouring powers – China and Iran respectively – posing a similar threat to their independence and even existence. Kazakhstan feels less threatened by Uzbekistan, but has been competing with it over the leadership of a Central Asian bloc.60 President Nursultan Nazarbayev has not concealed his ambition to lead such a bloc and to be the chief middleman between Russia and the Central Asian states. On the personal level, having been probably the most eminent Muslim in the Soviet hierarchy, he must have found the presidency of Kazakhstan severely restricting his talents, horizons and ambitions. As the leader of an independent Kazakhstan he has realised that such a leading role is not merely a bargaining chip or a matter of prestige to his country – it is vital to the very existence of Kazakhstan within its present borders, since if the Central Asian states and Russia pulled in different directions this would literally tear Kazakhstan, its population and territory, into two. Ergo the need to lead the Central Asian states and Russia to continued cooperation with each other, and the role played by Nazarbayev in the creation of the CIS. 90

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Independence aggravated another, by far more complicated rivalry, that between Uzbeks and Tajiks. Both nations are the outcome of Soviet demarcation. Until then they coexisted in a common bilingual culture. The separation created a strong rivalry over territory, population, resources and – most important – over their national definition and cultural heritage. In a way the two nations have been like Siamese twins unable to exist fully without each other and hating each other for this. The Uzbeks, having the advantage from the very beginning of Soviet rule, have done their best to dominate the Tajiks. Tajikistan was first created as an Autonomous Republic (ASSR) within the Uzbek SSR, and even after it had been raised to the status of a Union Republic (SSR) the Uzbeks continued to have great influence in its running. With the dissolution of the USSR the meaningless administrative demarcation line between the two republics had suddenly become an international border President Islam Karimov’s role in enlisting Russian and CIS intervention in the civil war in Tajikistan was more than merely part of Uzbekistan’s claim to leadership and an attempt to win points on the way to its realisation. In view of the entanglement between the two nations and the interdependence between the states, giving up influence in Tajikistan – and that is what the opposition’s coming to power in Dushanbe meant – was for Uzbekistan more than a strategic loss61 or a matter of prestige. To Karimov it meant a real possibility of changing the balance between the two, of allowing a foreign power (other than Russia) into the region and of a genuine threat to the existence of the regime and of Uzbekistan as it is now.62 All these considerations necessitate a tight relationship with Russia.63 THE METROPOLITAN POWERS

According to the popular phrase, ‘It takes two to tango.’ In both cases the dependence of the new independent states on, and their need to retain close ties with their respective metropolitan power were more than matched by the interests of the latter. France has considered her deep involvement with her ex-colonies as a vital interest. In decline since the end of the Napoleonic wars, though more explicitly since 1870, one of the avenues open to France to sustain its status as a major European and World Power was colonial expansion. This is clearly indicated by the fact that to France the territories acquired overseas were not ‘Colonies’ but ‘France Overseas’. Their acquisition was presented in ‘practical’ terms as aimed at strengthening France by the addition of territory, population and resources.64 Indeed, not only were colonial troops used on a 91

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massive scale to defend metropolitan France during the First World War, but in the Second World War the African territories of ‘France Overseas’ were perceived and used by de Gaulle as strategic depth to continue the struggle against Germany.65 De Gaulle attempted to restore, and his successors in the presidency of the Fifth Republic to maintain, France’s prestige and status as a major global power. Having realised the impossibility of keeping its colonial empire in the age of ‘de-colonisation’, de Gaulle aimed at retaining as much as possible of it as a French sphere of influence. This was not merely a question of prestige. It was one of the principal means to his primary goal – to reassert France’s status. De Gaulle and his successors have, therefore, been willing to pay a high price – economic, political, diplomatic and military – and to use almost every means to retain French influence (and to block that of any other power) in the newly independent francophone states in Africa.66 Like post-Second World War France, post-Soviet Russia needs to reassert itself as a major power. Unlike France, however, Russia cannot afford to pay any economic price at all. Furthermore, if to France the continued influence in her ex-empire has been an end to an aim, to Russia it has been a matter of crucial importance to her security and well-being. Post-Soviet Russia has been in the throes of a grave crisis – political, economic, social and psychological. Not the least among these has been Russia’s crisis of identity. Stripped of its sense of purpose and deprived of the esteem – at home and abroad – due to a superpower, Russia has been undergoing a most painful process of redetermining itself and redefining its interests.67 Russia’s impulse to keep the other parts of the ex-Soviet Union as its sphere of influence has partly been an old imperial reflex. But to a great extent it has also been an instinctive attempt to reassert Russia as the successor of the USSR – the superpower. But above all, Russia’s drive to continue her presence in Central Asia – indeed in all the parts of the USSR – was because of strategic and economic considerations. Russia’s southern border with Central Asia is artificial in any conceivable respect – geographical, ethnic, strategic, economic. Strategically it is Russia’s ‘soft underbelly’ to use a Churchillian phrase. A new defence line along it – one that Russia can hardly afford to build in the present and foreseeable future – will fall short of providing the minimal defence requirements. Holding on to Central Asia, therefore, provides Russia with an already existing defence line and a much needed buffer zone against neighbouring powers, almost all of which possess nuclear weapons. More important, it prevents the grave threats to Russia’s economy, internal security and even integrity potentially posed by a Central Asia controlled by unfriendly forces, whether external powers or hostile regimes.68 And of course one 92

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should not forget that such a presence in Central Asia gives Russia a better hand in the ongoing great game against the other powers.69 Furthermore, Central Asia possesses important strategic and economic resources. In the past cotton was a major incentive for Lenin’s decision to re-conquer Central Asia for the Soviet Union. At present oil plays a major (though not a single) role in Russia’s will to remain in the area.70 Most of the huge reserves of oil and gas in the Caspian basin belong to two or three Central Asian states71 and to Azerbaijan across the sea. None of these states has the financial and technical resources to develop these new fields into production. They need, therefore, foreign partnership and financial and technical assistance in this enterprise. Moscow has been eager to become a senior partner to any such venture, even though it is far from having the needed financial resources. Instead it has been dangling the carrot of passage routes via its own territory and waving the stick of potential disruption of alternative ones and of any such endeavour without Russian participation. In doing so it has several aims in mind: First, unable to render economic assistance itself, Russia is lacking an important tool of influence. Worse, it lays Central Asia open to the influence of other powers. Russia is, therefore, most interested in becoming the broker between Central Asia and the West. Such a position will supply Russia with leverage on both, which will enable it to (1) retain a measure of economic influence in Central Asia and keep tabs on the involvement of other powers there; (2) regulate at least part of the foreign assistance to, and investments in, that part of the world by redirecting it via Moscow;72 (3) enhance Russia’s share and position in the world oil market and economy; and (4) get Russia more economic assistance at better conditions from the West. A share in the production and control of the export of oil might secure Moscow this role. Second, Russia, in the midst of the crisis generated by the transfer to a market economy, badly needs the large sums in hard currency her share in such enterprises might yield. Third, even if at the moment Russia does not need these oil and gas reserves it might need them in the future. Another factor to be reckoned with is the existence of a large Russian, or russophone, population in the states of Central Asia. Even before the dissolution of the USSR there was a growing inclination of Russians to emigrate from Central Asia. This was the result of a general upsurge of nationalism in the Soviet Union, which drove minorities to ‘repatriate’ to their national homelands. Reaching a peak immediately following the disintegration of the Soviet Union, this process alarmed both Russia and the Central Asian states. The interests of the latter have been discussed above. Russia, in the grip of an intense economic crisis, has been unable to absorb the 93

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russophones of Central Asia the way France absorbed the pieds noirs, even if their number had not been triple that of the pieds noirs.73 But Moscow has also had a positive motivation to keep the russophone population in the Central Asian states. This population is a living bridge between Russia and these states and supplies Moscow with yet another lever for its involvement. To ensure the security and welfare of the russophones in their present places of residence is, therefore, a major Russian interest. Thus, two significant differences between the position of the two powers in their respected areas of influence have been pointed out, which make Russia more prone to use armed force to retain her influence: (1) Central Asia is incomparably more vital to Russia than francophone Africa has been to France, and (2) while affluent France, being a member of a prosperous alliance, has enjoyed the ability to assist economically its allies in Africa, Russia has, and will have in the foreseeable future, almost none. A third difference must be added that pushes Russia further in that direction: unlike France, which until recently has faced no serious challenge to her predominance in francophone Africa, Russia must take into account the real possibility of having to contest other regional or global powers over Central Asia. France’s de-colonisation took place in the midst of the Cold War. Its drive to retain influence in its former colonies was, therefore, backed by the US. America wanted to keep the USSR from gaining a foothold in that area but was unwilling to intervene there and be compromised as ‘neo-colonialist’. Washington preferred, therefore, to support French policy in francophone Africa politically, diplomatically, militarily – mainly logistically – and financially. Now that the Cold War is over there has been much talk of American–French competition and even confrontation in Africa.74 The dissolution of the USSR took place in the post-Vietnam War era, when the US and other powers became very well aware of the political, military and economic limitations to their strength and (even more) of their ability to use it. This and the willingness to uphold Yeltsin’s government have led them to acknowledge the exUSSR – with the exception of the Baltic republics and, perhaps the Ukraine – as Russia’s sphere of influence. However, with growing Western (and perhaps other) interest and involvement in the Central Asian economies, first and foremost the oil industry, this attitude might change.75 But even if the US and other powers continue to acknowledge Russian pre-eminence in Central Asia, Russia can count on no support other than political and diplomatic to her involvement there and definitely no financing would be forthcoming. Within the relatively limited range of means left at Moscow’s disposal the military ones have, thus, become of prime importance.76 94

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Three world empires survived the First World War. Two of them – the British and the French – disintegrated after the Second World War. Both tried to continue and to institutionalise special links between the metropolitan power and the ex-colonies.77 Only the latter, however, has proved successful, at least until the early 1990s. The reasons for that are outside the scope of this chapter.78 The Russian empire underwent a fundamental transformation which enabled it to endure until after the Cold War. As in the case of the other two, Russia and at least the new independent states of Central Asia have considered the continuation and institutionalisation of their special links a vital interest.79 Several parameters make post-Soviet realities closer to French than to British post-colonial ones. This does not mean necessarily that Russia’s relationship with the countries of the CIS will develop along lines reminiscent of that of France with its ex-colonies. The future of the relationship between the states of Central Asia and Russia depends on many factors: internal developments in the different states involved; the policies of neighbouring powers; the attitude of what is called ‘the international community’ – especially the US; and not least Russia’s success in redefining itself and its interests. Post Second World War France found in de Gaulle a leader who managed to adapt it to the new world order of the 1950s and 1960s. This adaptation included France’s relationship with its ex-colonial empire.80 It remains to be seen whether Russia finds in Putin a leader who will manage to do a parallel adaptation to the ‘new world disorder’ of the 1990s and 2000s. NOTES 1 Félix Houphouet-Boigny, ‘Black Africa and the French Union’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 35, No. 6