Turan Research Center

A Partnership Built for the Long Haul

On December 10, 2025, Uzbekistan's Deputy Prime Minister Jamshid Khodjayev stood at Masan Port in Changwon, South Korea, watching sleek high-speed trains being loaded onto cargo ships bound for Tashkent. Capable of traveling 160 miles per hour through desert sandstorms, these Hyundai Rotem trains represent the latest chapter in a relationship that began more than three decades ago with something far more modest: the Daewoo Tico, a boxy subcompact car that became ubiquitous on Uzbek roads in the 1990s.

The contrast between those first Ticos and today's high-speed rail cars tells a larger story about South Korea's distinctive approach to Central Asia. While other powers have surged into the region with flashy mega-deals or retreated when conditions changed, South Korea has maintained a steady, pragmatic presence in Uzbekistan — one that has evolved from basic manufacturing to cutting-edge technology transfer. As Russia's attention has shifted to its war in Ukraine and competition intensifies among China, Gulf states, and Western powers for influence in Central Asia, South Korea's three-decade track record offers a case study in sustained economic diplomacy.

The question is why this partnership has endured when so many others have faltered, and what it reveals about Uzbekistan's approach to balancing relationships with multiple powers.

Foundation: Pragmatism Meets Historical Ties

South Korea's engagement with Uzbekistan began with practical advantages that few other countries possessed. When Uzbekistan gained independence in late 1991, South Korea moved quickly, establishing diplomatic relations by January 1992 — the eighth country to formally recognize the new state. By late that year, Daewoo had already formed UzDaewooAvto, a joint venture with state company Uzavtosanoat, to manufacture cars in the eastern town of Asaka.

The timing reflected both opportunity and obligation. Some 250,000 ethnic Koreans lived in Uzbekistan in 1991, descendants of families forcibly relocated by Stalin from the Soviet Far East to Central Asia in the late 1930s. While most other deported groups — ethnic Germans, peoples from the North Caucasians — eventually left Central Asia after the USSR's collapse, the Korean community remained substantial, numbering approximately 174,200 by 2021 according to Uzbekistan's State Statistics Committee. This diaspora provided cultural familiarity and linguistic bridges that smoothed early business relationships.

But sentiment alone doesn't explain three decades of sustained engagement. South Korea approached Uzbekistan with clear economic interests: access to natural resources, particularly uranium for its 26 nuclear reactors that supply 30 percent of the country's electricity, and opportunities in a market that Western companies often overlooked. The relationship was transactional from the start, which paradoxically may have contributed to its longevity — expectations were clear, and both sides benefited.

Building Industrial Foundations: Energy and Infrastructure

South Korean companies followed Daewoo's automotive success by moving into Uzbekistan's energy sector, establishing partnerships that would anchor the relationship for decades.

The Korean Gas Corporation (KOGAS) signed a pivotal agreement in February 2008 with state company Uzbekneftegaz, forming a 50-50 partnership to develop the Surgil gas field and construct the Ustyurt Gas Chemical Complex in western Uzbekistan. The deal was sealed during Uzbek President Islam Karimov's visit to attend the inauguration of South Korean President Lee Myung-bak—a sign of how closely economic ties had become intertwined with diplomatic relations. Later that year, Korea National Oil Corporation (KNOC) secured agreements to explore for oil and gas in eastern Uzbekistan's Namangan-Tergachi and Chust-Pop regions, and later in dried-out areas of the Aral Sea in partnership with Uzbekneftegaz and China National Petroleum Corporation.

These energy deals created a foundation for deeper involvement in Uzbekistan's infrastructure. Hyundai Engineering partnered with Russia's Lukoil to build the Kandym gas-processing plant in Bukhara Province, commissioned in 2018 with capacity to handle 8 billion cubic meters annually. SK Engineering & Construction won contracts to modernize the Bukhara oil refinery in 2019, upgrading it to produce Euro-5 quality gasoline — a critical improvement as Uzbekistan grapples with severe air pollution and phases out low-quality fuel.

Power generation became another focus area. Daewoo International and Hyundai Engineering & Construction modernized the Andijan and Tupolang hydropower plants in 2015, installing new units that boosted combined capacity to 150 megawatts. The companies then partnered with Uzbekenergo to modernize the 900-megawatt Talimarjan thermal power plant and install new capacity at the Angren plant. In 2021, SK Engineering & Construction secured the tender to modernize the Mubarek thermal power plant, increasing capacity from 120 to 300 megawatts.

What distinguishes these projects is their focus on upgrading existing infrastructure rather than building vanity projects. South Korean companies have concentrated on making Uzbekistan's energy and power systems more efficient and environmentally sound — less glamorous than new cities or mega-dams, but essential to the country's development needs.

The Technology Leap: Positioning for the Future

The high-speed trains arriving in Uzbekistan represent a strategic shift in the partnership. South Korea is no longer just helping Uzbekistan modernize Soviet-era infrastructure; it's enabling the country to leapfrog into advanced technologies that will shape its economic future.

The Hyundai Rotem trains, designed with dust-resistant systems to withstand extreme heat and sandstorms, will first serve the Tashkent-Urgench-Khiva route, cutting travel time to seven hours and better connecting the capital with western regions. The route will be named after Jalaladdin Manguberdi, the last Khwarezmian ruler who resisted the Mongol invasions — a symbolic choice linking technological progress with historical pride. As more trains arrive through 2027, additional lines will connect Tashkent and Bukhara, transforming domestic connectivity.

Aviation infrastructure is another frontier. Incheon International Airport Corporation, alongside Saudi and Japanese partners, is participating in construction of Tashkent's new international airport, with a first-phase cost of $2.5 billion. In April 2025, Incheon won the tender to modernize Urgench airport in western Uzbekistan, extending South Korean expertise across the country's aviation network.

Perhaps most striking is South Korea's push into emerging technologies. In December 2025, during Deputy Prime Minister Khodjayev's visit to Seoul, a memorandum of understanding was signed for South Korean company ROBOTIS to assemble humanoid robots in Uzbekistan. Uzbek pharmaceutical companies signed another agreement with South Korea's National Institute for Bioprocessing Research and Training to boost innovation in biotechnology and train Uzbek specialists. An Uzbek delegation attending a procurement conference in Seoul reached agreements for South Korean assistance in digitalization and introducing artificial intelligence into public procurement systems — details of which were discussed between Uzbekistan's deputy Economic and Finance Minister and the South Korean ambassador in October.

These aren't isolated deals. They represent a coordinated strategy to position Uzbekistan as a technology hub and manufacturing center for advanced industries, with South Korea serving as the principal partner and knowledge transfer agent.

The Human Connection: Labor and Diaspora

Behind the billions in contracts and infrastructure projects lies a human dimension that reinforces economic ties. In December 2012, Uzbekistan and South Korea signed an agreement allowing Uzbek laborers to work in South Korea. By July 2025, approximately 98,457 Uzbeks were living in South Korea, with reports suggesting the potential for up to 100,000 workers on temporary visas. Remittances from South Korea to Uzbekistan surged 56 percent in 2024, totaling $534 million — a significant flow of capital into Uzbek households.

This labor migration has created challenges, including some workers leaving approved positions for other employment and overstaying visas, leading to recent quota reductions and a voluntary exit program for those without legal status. Yet a December 2025 agreement allowing select Uzbek laborers to work at KIA Auto service centers demonstrates how both countries are trying to structure migration to benefit Uzbekistan's development — workers will gain skills to support the domestic automotive sector when they return home.

The ethnic Korean community in Uzbekistan, while smaller than in 1991, continues to serve as a cultural bridge. These historical ties provide familiarity and trust that purely commercial relationships often lack, even as the partnership has evolved far beyond diaspora connections.

What Makes This Partnership Different?

South Korea's sustained engagement with Uzbekistan stands in contrast to other powers' approaches to Central Asia. China has pursued massive infrastructure investments through the Belt and Road Initiative, often involving large loans and Chinese contractors. Gulf states have recently entered with major financial commitments focused on specific sectors. Russia's historical dominance has waned as Moscow's attention has turned to its war in Ukraine. Western countries and companies have increased interest but often lack the long-term commitment and cultural proximity that South Korea offers.

Several factors explain South Korea's staying power. First, the partnership has been consistently reciprocal—Uzbekistan provides resources and market access while South Korea brings technology, investment, and employment opportunities. Neither side has sought to dominate the relationship politically. Second, South Korean companies have proven adaptable, evolving from basic manufacturing in the 1990s to sophisticated technology transfer today, matching Uzbekistan's development trajectory. Third, the relationship operates at multiple levels—government-to-government, business-to-business, and people-to-people—creating resilience when any single channel faces obstacles.

Most importantly, South Korea has avoided the perception of strategic competition that accompanies Chinese or Russian engagement, or the conditional assistance often associated with Western partnerships. For Uzbekistan, this makes South Korea an attractive partner as the country seeks to balance relationships with multiple powers while maintaining sovereignty and pursuing rapid development.

Looking Ahead: A Model for Multi-Alignment?

As Uzbekistan pursues what observers call a "multi-vector" foreign policy — engaging simultaneously with Russia, China, the United States, Europe, and Gulf states — its partnership with South Korea offers a template for how mid-sized powers can build influence in Central Asia without triggering great power competition.

The third meeting of parliamentary leaders from Central Asian countries and South Korea, held in Tashkent in December 2025, suggests this model may be expanding regionally. Discussions focused on economic cooperation, digital transformation, and industrial development — areas where South Korea has demonstrated expertise in Uzbekistan and could replicate across the region.

Questions remain about the partnership's future trajectory. Can South Korea maintain its position as competition for Uzbek contracts intensifies? Will the technology transfer agreements produce the innovation ecosystems both countries envision? How will labor migration evolve as Uzbekistan's economy develops and demand for overseas work potentially declines?

What's clear is that after more than three decades, the Uzbekistan-South Korea relationship has evolved from opportunistic early engagement into a strategic partnership that serves both countries' interests. From Tico cars to high-speed trains, from basic energy extraction to AI-powered government systems, the partnership has continuously adapted while maintaining its core pragmatism.

In a region where great powers compete for influence and partnerships often prove fleeting, South Korea's quiet consistency in Uzbekistan may offer the most valuable lesson: sustainable relationships are built not on grand gestures but on mutual benefit, technological collaboration, and patient investment in shared futures.

Bruce Pannier is a Senior Fellow at the Turan Research Center. Before joining the TRC, he was a correspondent covering Central Asia for RFE/RL for over 25 years. He previously wrote Central Asia in Focus and hosted the Majlis podcast.

Iran and Tajikistan have rapidly expanded bilateral cooperation in recent years, yet the relationship carries significant risks. Chief among them is the increasing activity of Iranian intelligence — led by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) — in Tajikistan, and the possibility that the country could become partially integrated into Iran's "axis of resistance," potentially against Dushanbe's own preferences. This analysis examines one dimension of what Iranian experts describe as a "deepening of Iran's strategic view towards Tajikistan": the recruitment of Tajik citizens by Iranian intelligence services.

Following the civil war of 1992–1997, Tajikistan faced profound socioeconomic hardships and has since relied heavily on remittances from its migrant labor force abroad. The Central Asian country consistently ranks among global leaders in the share of GDP derived from foreign remittances. Structural dependence on migration makes many Tajik citizens willing to accept virtually any form of work abroad — a vulnerability actively exploited by terrorist organizations and intelligence agencies, including those operating under Iranian authority.

Religious Outreach as Strategic Cover

Shiites constitute only around five percent of Tajikistan's Muslim population — approximately 400,000 people. Most are Ismailis from the Gorno-Badakhshan region, traditionally shaped by the liberal and pro-Western religious influence of the Aga Khan, the spiritual leader of the 12-15 million global Ismaili community. Nonetheless, beginning in the 1990s, an extensive propaganda campaign conducted by Iranian emissaries brought hundreds of Tajiks to religious seminaries in Iran, where they received training in Shia doctrine. Today they form the nucleus of the country's Shia clergy and come not only from Gorno-Badakhshan but also from regions where Sunni Islam of the Hanafi school has historically predominated.

Iran's religious outreach — along with funding for cultural initiatives in Tajikistan — was accompanied by deliberate efforts to insert Iranian operatives into Tajik institutions, a pattern familiar from several Middle Eastern states. According to regional experts, through active recruitment campaigns, Iranian intelligence services have succeeded in infiltrating segments of the administrative and law enforcement apparatus and now occupy influential mid-level positions.

Iranian intelligence services did not limit their activities to contacts with Tajik Shia communities. Close cooperation between Iran and Tajik Islamist groups — including Sunni members of the United Tajik Opposition (UTO) — dates back to the civil war of the 1990s and continued well beyond that period. Collaboration between Iranian intelligence and Sunni actors is by no means unprecedented; recent examples include Tehran's ties with Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad in Gaza, while earlier instances of IRGC engagement with Sunni factions in the Middle East are also well documented.

Tellingly, some UTO representatives, influenced by their interactions with Iran, began to display flexibility in blending Shia and Sunni religious practices. On December 2, 2011, several prominent UTO figures conducted the Shia ritual of Ashura inside a Sunni mosque near Dushanbe. For Shia Muslims, Ashura is a day of mourning for the martyred Imam Husayn. In the political theology of contemporary Iran and Lebanon's Hezbollah, however, it has become a central symbol within the broader narrative of the "axis of resistance," signifying struggle against the United States, Israel, and Arab monarchies.

Among Sunnis, Ashura carries a fundamentally different meaning: it commemorates the deliverance of the Prophet Musa (Moses) and the Children of Israel from Pharaoh. Sunnis mark the day through fasting and prayer, but the occasion lacks the public, mobilizing, and politically charged character it has acquired in Shia contexts. The commemoration of Husayn's martyrdom in a Sunni mosque — instead of the traditional Sunni remembrance of the Israelites' exodus from Egypt — provoked major controversy in Tajikistan. The incident became one of the arguments cited by authorities when they imposed an official ban on Tajik students pursuing religious education in Iran.

Documented Operations and Terrorist Activity

Several materials released by Tajik authorities assert that Iranian intelligence services have been involved in operations on Tajik territory, including recruitment, the use of proxy groups, and organization of terrorist attacks. On July 29, 2018, a terrorist attack targeting foreign cyclists took place in Tajikistan's Khatlon region, resulting in the deaths of two U.S. citizens, one Dutch national, and one Swiss national.

According to the testimony of Abdusamadov, a terrorist detained by Tajik security services, he underwent ideological indoctrination and military training between 2014 and 2015 in the city of Qom and at a training camp in Iran's Mazandaran province. Following the 2015 ban on the opposition Islamic Renaissance Party of Tajikistan (IRPT), he sought refuge in Iran. At the same time, he maintained membership in ISIS. The individual identified as the organizer of the attack, Ubaidov, likewise studied at religious institutions in Iran and received similar training in IRGC camps. He later engaged in recruiting Tajik labor migrants in Russia on behalf of Iranian intelligence services. In doing so, the Iranians allegedly used IRPT membership as convenient cover for recruitment activities inside Russia.

Skepticism toward Tajik law enforcement agencies, sympathy for the IRPT — which was subjected to repression in Tajikistan — and general reluctance among Russian analysts to engage with the argument that Tajik migrants were being recruited on Russian soil led several experts, primarily from Russia, to advance an alternative version. According to their assessment, the attack had been organized by ISIS. This divergence prompted debate between Russian and Tajik experts. Tajik commentators insisted that Iranian intelligence had been recruiting Tajik labor migrants in Russia under the banner of the IRPT first, while the attack in Tajikistan was later carried out under the borrowed brand of ISIS. At that time, the IRPT was viewed relatively benignly in Russia, whereas ISIS was not — making such dual-layered cover logically plausible.

In 2018, thirteen individuals were detained in Tajikistan on charges of preparing another terrorist attack; they too had undergone training in Iran. Once again, recruitment was reportedly carried out by Iranian intelligence operatives. In Russia, recruitment was conducted under the familiar cover of affiliation with the IRPT, while the planned attack was meant to appear as an operation carried out under the banner of ISIS.

Not all instances of such Iranian covert operations became public. Tajik authorities tended to disclose only those cases that could cast a shadow on the opposition IRPT by portraying it as involved in terrorist activity. At the same time, because of Dushanbe's close political and economic relationship with Tehran, the authorities were inclined to publicize only those episodes of Iranian intelligence activity that, directly or indirectly, involved IRPT members. As a result, a significant number of other cases may never have entered the public domain.

The use of organizational cover — operations conducted under the flag of other movements — is a common tactic employed by the IRGC in the Middle East. For this reason, it should be stressed that the use of IRPT-linked identities as operational cover by Iranian intelligence does not itself reflect negatively on the Tajik opposition. Rather, it illustrates a standard modus operandi of Iranian intelligence services.

Escalation After October 7

Following the outbreak of the war in Gaza after Hamas's October 7, 2023 attack on Israel — and amid the subsequent escalation of Iranian-Israeli confrontation — Iranian intelligence services significantly expanded their recruitment of Central Asian nationals, especially Tajiks, for potential use against Israel and the United States. Alongside Tajiks, recruitment of smaller numbers of Uzbeks and Kyrgyz has also been reported. According to these accounts, Iranian operatives have been dispatching such recruits to the conflict zone in the Middle East.

The relatively easy recruitment of Tajik citizens by Iranian intelligence services is attributed to three factors: shared language and cultural affinity, difficult socioeconomic conditions faced both by residents of Tajikistan and by Tajik labor migrants abroad, and a sense of religious solidarity with Palestinian Arabs. This recruitment channel has effectively supplemented the well-known pattern through which the IRGC mobilized various groups for the war in Syria and, since 2023, for operations against Israel across multiple theaters. The principal formations involved include Iraqi Shia militias, Lebanese Hezbollah, and the Hazara-dominated Fatemiyoun Brigade from Afghanistan, closely connected to the political organization Hezbollah Afghanistan.

Central Asian militants typically reach the Palestinian theater through two main routes. The first is the Iranian corridor: they travel directly from Central Asia to Tehran, then proceed to Syria, and from there are dispatched to the conflict zone. The second is the Afghan-Iranian route: first to Afghanistan, then onward to Iran, followed by Syria, and ultimately to the operational area, most likely Lebanon.

Regional Influence Operations

Another objective of Iranian intelligence has been to facilitate actions in several Central Asian countries aimed at influencing public opinion and shaping the foreign policy choices of local governments. Here, too, parallels with Iranian behavior elsewhere are evident. The IRGC has long conducted similar operations in Azerbaijan, which Tehran views as aligned with the United States and Israel.

Andrey Serenko, a prominent Russian orientalist and specialist on Central Asia and Afghanistan, reported on his Telegram channel that on November 18, 2023, two Tajik citizens attempted to set fire to a Jewish educational center in Almaty, Kazakhstan. On November 20, according to the same source, four individuals from various Central Asian states — including Tajikistan — attempted a planned attack on the office of the Jewish Agency in Almaty. According to Serenko's description, which was later deleted, these incidents were connected with Iranian intelligence services. Additional incidents occurred not only in Kazakhstan but also in Uzbekistan. Interestingly, Serenko argues that the latter episodes prompted Tashkent to deepen its cooperation with Iran in order to balance its engagement with Israel.

On the other hand, if there was an intention to exert pressure on the government of Kazakhstan, the attempt clearly failed. On November 6, 2025, as part of its traditionally multi-vector foreign policy aimed at preserving regional peace and stability, official Astana announced it would join the Abraham Accords. The decision drew criticism in Tehran, and many Iranian commentators began calling for even more assertive policy in Central Asia to prevent the emergence of a bloc of U.S.-friendly states aligned with Turkey and Israel.

Dushanbe’s Strategic Calculus

How interested might the government of Tajikistan be in such an expansion of Iranian strategic influence? Given Tajikistan's own multi-vector foreign policy strategy — designed primarily to ensure the stability of President Rahmon's authoritarian regime and secure a hereditary transfer of power — Dushanbe has little incentive to enter into strategic entanglements with Iran that could risk drawing the country into direct confrontation with the United States and Israel. At international forums President Rahmon may offer rhetorical criticism of Israel, but it is unlikely to go beyond that. At the same time, Dushanbe will naturally not refuse economic assistance from Tehran.

Constraints on Iranian Influence

For Iran's attempts to exert informal influence in Tajikistan through its intelligence services under the disguise of economic and cultural cooperation, three groups of constraints are particularly significant:

Political constraints. Paradoxically, Iran's deepening political cooperation with Russia and China acts as one of the main limiting factors. Neither Moscow nor Beijing has any interest in the rise of Islamist extremist or terrorist activity in neighboring Central Asia, which could spill over onto their own territories. Indeed, if the Tajik authorities are correct in claiming that the IRGC at least twice previously attempted to stage attacks in Tajikistan under the banner of ISIS, the rationale may well have been, among other things, to avoid provoking Russian and Chinese opposition to Iranian actions. Moreover, the longstanding ties between Iranian state structures and segments of the Tajik opposition compel the Rahmon government — motivated by regime stability considerations — to control Iranian influence inside the country.

Economic constraints. A second limiting factor is that recruitment into terrorist groups can, to some extent, be analyzed through the lens of labor market competition between rival recruiters. This framework is particularly relevant when economic hardship is the primary driver behind recruitment, as is the case in Tajikistan. Competition from recruiters representing various international Sunni terrorist organizations significantly narrows the space available to Iranian intelligence services. The principal competitors in this regard are ISIS-K and the Central Asian group Ansarullah, which maintains links with the Taliban as well as with al-Qaeda.

A terrorist threat exists to Iran itself. A significant strategic constraint is also that the instrument reportedly used by Iranian security services — the recruitment of Tajik nationals — may turn into a weapon that Sunni terrorist organizations deploy against Iran. On January 3, 2024, twin suicide bombings struck the Iranian city of Kerman during a commemorative ceremony at the grave of Qasem Soleimani, one of the most prominent leaders of the IRGC. The attack killed 95 people. Responsibility was claimed by ISIS-K, and one of the perpetrators was a citizen of Tajikistan.

Conclusion

Iran's intelligence operations in Tajikistan reveal a sophisticated strategy that extends well beyond traditional bilateral relations. Through religious outreach, economic leverage, and exploitation of labor migration patterns, Tehran has built a recruitment infrastructure that serves multiple strategic objectives: projecting power in Central Asia, mobilizing proxy forces against Israel and the United States, and potentially integrating Tajikistan into its axis of resistance.

Yet the limits of Iranian influence are equally instructive. Russia and China's security concerns, competition from Sunni extremist groups, and Dushanbe's own regime stability imperatives create meaningful constraints on Tehran's ambitions. The Rahmon government faces a delicate balancing act: accepting Iranian economic assistance while preventing the country from becoming a staging ground for regional destabilization.

For Western policymakers, the recruitment of Tajik citizens — especially labor migrants — into terrorist organizations constitutes a transnational security threat that demands sustained attention. Addressing the challenge requires moving beyond counterterrorism frameworks to tackle the root cause: the economic desperation that makes Tajik workers vulnerable to exploitation by multiple actors, from the IRGC to ISIS-K. Despite Tajikistan's rapid economic growth in 2025, the difficult socioeconomic conditions faced by its population remain the most important factor enabling recruitment.

International organizations and Western governments should prioritize economic development assistance, labor protections for migrants, and support for civil society in Tajikistan. Without addressing these structural vulnerabilities, competing recruitment networks — whether Iranian, Sunni extremist, or hybrid operations — will continue to exploit the country's most vulnerable citizens. The question is not whether recruitment will continue, but rather which actors will succeed in doing so and to what ends.

Dr. Andrei Kazantsev-Vaisman is a fellow at the Begin-Sadat Center for Strategic Studies at Bar-Ilan University specializing in international relations and security in Eurasia. He has held academic appointments at the Higher School of Economics in Moscow, the Eurasian National University in Astana, and Narxoz University in Almaty. During the war on terror in Afghanistan, he directed the Center for Central Asian and Afghan Studies at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations and served on the Russian–American Working Group on Counterterrorism in Afghanistan under the East–West Institute. He is the author of over 100 publications, including 25 peer-reviewed articles indexed in Scopus, and his expert analysis has been cited by major international media including The Wall Street Journal, Associated Press, The Washington Post, BBC, and Deutsche Welle.

On the day after the Taliban seized Kabul in 2021, a Turkish Airlines flight carrying 234 passengers arrived in Istanbul. Among them was Sarwar Danish, Afghanistan’s Second Vice President, and two members of President Ashraf Ghani’s fleeing cabinet.

Danish, became the highest-ranking Hazara official of the Afghan government to flee the Taliban without seeking refuge in Iran, despite having lived and studied there for many years. Like many educated Hazara elites, he spent much of the 1980s and 1990s in Iran, pursuing religious studies in Qom, home to the world’ s largest Shiite theological seminary.

Hazara Shiites and Iranian Shiites share the Twelver branch of Shia Islam but differ ethnically. The Hazaras have Mongol-Turkic roots and speak Hazaragi, a Farsi-based language. Iranian Shiites are ethnic Persians who speak Farsi.

Iran’s deepening relations with the Taliban convinced Danish that it was too risky to seek refuge there. Ultimately, he resettled in New Zealand.

In the aftermath of 9/11, U.S. Operation Enduring Freedom brought about the collapse of the Taliban regime in 2001. The subsequent Bonn Agreement established a power-sharing framework that reshaped Afghanistan’s political order. Within this arrangement, the Hazaras — the second most powerful opposition to the Taliban after the Tajiks — secured 20 percent of Cabinet positions. Their representation was led by Islamic Unity Party (Hizb-e-Wahdat) leader Mohammad Karim Khalili, who assumed the role of Second Vice President Today, Khalili lives in exile in Turkey.

Following the U.S. intervention in 2001, the Hazaras community has pursued gradual yet consistent efforts to define an identity that extends beyond its Shiite religious affiliation. This process has contributed to a degree of distancing from Iran’s Islamic regime. In their search for a broader cultural and political framework, Hazara political and academic elites have taken tangible steps to cultivate ties with Turkey, positioning themselves as leading actors within the Turkic world. Such outreach has resonated with President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s promotion of Pan-Turkism.

Within this context, Turkey’s reception of prominent Hazara political leaders such as Khalili and Mohammad Mohaqqiq, the long-time leader of the People’s Islamic Unity Party of Afghanistan (PIUPA), appears strategically coherent. Both figures, together with Danish, have played active roles in exile politics, most notably through the establishment of the National Resistance Council for Salvation of Afghanistan in Turkey in 2022. The council has formed a political opposition coalition against the Taliban. Both Mohaqqiq and Danish are the among the organization’s founders.

Iran’s relationship with the Taliban has steadily deepened over the past decade, diminishing its appeal as a refuge for Hazara leaders. From 2015 onward, reports indicate that Iran began engaging both diplomatically and militarily with the Taliban, with some analysts noting the establishment of Taliban training infrastructure inside Iran. This alignment was not merely pragmatic but political: Iran appeared intent on cultivating influence with the Taliban, even at the expense of marginalized Afghan groups. In return, Iran secures its eastern border, gains access to the Afghan market, uses the Taliban’s anti-West sentiments as its global P.R., and can stay influential in regional dynamics. In 2023, the relationship was formalized further when Tehran transferred control of the Afghan embassy to Taliban-appointed diplomats.

The Hazara community’s historical experience with Iran is more complex than shared Shiite identity might suggest. During the anti-Soviet jihad of the 1980s, Iran provided support to Hazara jihadist groups, but this assistance weakened Hazara political cohesion after the Soviet withdrawal, some analysts argue.

Moreover, within Hazara narratives, Iran is remembered as having prioritized other Afghan factions — such as the Tajik mujahideen group, Jamiat-e Islami. during the early 1990s civil war that erupted after the Soviet withdrawal in 1989, offering more military support, while limiting aid to Hazara groups. Although archival evidence remains sparse, these perceptions left a legacy of mistrust among some Hazara elites toward Tehran.

One of the most significant sources of Hazara mistrust toward Iran stems from Iran’s use of Hazara refugees in its regional military engagements. The Fatemiyoun Brigade, backed by Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), recruited large numbers of Afghan Hazaras — including minors — to fight in Syria. Human Rights Watch documented cases of Afghan children as young as 14 who were deployed and killed in Syria under Fatemiyoun’s banner.

Beyond such recruitment, reports highlight coercive practices: Hazara refugees allegedly pressured through economic vulnerability or promises of legal residency for fighting in the Fatemiyoun. Human Rights and migrant-rights groups argue that the IRGC exploited refugees’ precarious lives for geopolitical gain. In a 2020 report by the Ceasefire Center for Civilian Rights, IRGC Qud’s Force recruited thousands of Afghans Shias mainly from the Hazara community to fight in Syria. One Afghan described being approached at a mosque in Efsahan, “They suggested we go to Syria to help defend the Shi’a holy shrines from Daesh’, adding that ‘we’d get passports and have an easy life afterwards. We’d be like Iranian citizens and could buy cars, houses…”

For Hazara leaders, these practices transformed Iran from a potential sanctuary into a place of exploitation, casting serious doubts about Tehran’s willingness to protect the broader Hazara community.

Throughout the two-decades of the Afghan Republic, Western governments played a dominant role in the nation’s political institutions, development funding, and security architecture. Hazara leaders actively cultivated these relationships to avoid political marginalization and to ensure external backing. During this period, hundreds of Hazara youth obtained scholarships to leading universities in the U.S. and Europe, with many returning to Afghanistan to occupy senior positions within the Republic’s bureaucracy.

Following the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, Western actors continued to influence Afghan realities primarily through humanitarian aid. According to a UNOCHA, approximately $6.7 billion in humanitarian funding was directed to Afghanistan between 2021 and 2024. This sustained support reinforced the perception that Western countries would remain influential players in any future Afghan political landscape. For Hazara leaders, relocation to the West offered not only physical safety but also continued political relevance and access to resources.

Over the past two decades, Hazara diaspora communities have flourished across Western countries — particularly in Europe, Australia, and Canada. These communities have become hubs for political mobilization, advocacy, fundraising, and civil society initiatives. For exiled Hazara leaders, relocation to these countries provides access to established networks, enabling them to maintain influence and engage in transnational activism.

 By contrast, the political space for Hazaras in Iran has remained considerably more constrained limiting the role of any diaspora there as a platform for political leadership. Iran’s domestic political system imposes strict limits on independent political organizing, particularly for refugees. Hazara leaders attempting to operate politically in Iran risk surveillance, repression, and legal obstacles. It is highly unlikely that figures like Mohammad Mohaqqiq, Sarwar Danesh, or Karim Khalili could freely participate in anti-Taliban groups if based in Iran.

Moreover, Iran’s political climate is far less permissive toward the formation of independent political parties or coalitions — especially those that might challenge Tehran’s strategic interests. For Hazara leaders seeking political agency and a long-term voice, Western democracies offer far greater freedom and opportunity than Iran’s restrictive environment.

Hussain Ehsani is a Research Fellow at the Turan Research Center. He previously was as a senior researcher at the Afghan Institute for Strategic Studies. He holds a master’s degree from the University of Tehran.

Joseph Epstein is the Director of the Turan Research Center, a Senior Fellow at the Yorktown Institute, and a Research Fellow at Bar Ilan University's Begin Sadat Center for Strategic Studies.

The idea of reconnecting world’s largest democracy with Central Asia carries deep civilizational resonance. For centuries, merchants, monks, and monarchs traversed the mountain passes of the Hindu Kush and the plains of Bactria, linking the subcontinent to the great cities of Samarkand and Bukhara. Today, that geography survives only in memory. The modern state system — shaped by partition and rivalry — has severed those routes. Despite its significant economic size and cultural reach, India remains effectively walled off from a region with which it shares both history and strategic interests. Persistent hostility with Pakistan, compounded by instability in Afghanistan, has transformed what should be a natural corridor into a geopolitical cul-de-sac.

At first glance, the logic of the partnership between India and the five Central Asian republics — Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan — appears natural. Central Asia is rich in hydrocarbons, uranium, and fertilisers; India needs all three. India, in turn, produces pharmaceuticals, machinery, textiles, and IT services that the Central Asian economies cannot supply in sufficient quantity. On paper, the relationship should be mutually reinforcing: resources for technology, raw materials for finished goods. In reality, the commercial relationship remains stubbornly modest. India’s total trade with the region barely exceeds $2 billion, representing less than half a per cent of New Delhi’s global trade. The promise exists, but geography and politics have denied it substance.

A Geography of Constraint

The principle obstacle is physical access. India shares no direct border with Central Asia, and its only practical land route passes through China or Pakistan and Afghanistan. Although India’s Himalayan frontier intersects the wider region leading toward Central Asia on the Chinese side, there is currently no usable or politically open land corridor that would allow India direct access through China. Beijing has developed Xinjiang as its own controlled gateway to Central Asia under the Belt and Road Initiative, and granting India transit would undermine China’s strategic advantage in the region.

The Aksai Chin area, where old trade routes once connected Ladakh with Xinjiang, is not feasible today because India still claims the territory while China exercises firm control over it. This ongoing dispute, combined with tense political relations, effectively eliminates any prospect of a functional route through that region.

Meanwhile, Pakistan does not permit Indian cargo to transit through its territory, effectively cutting India off from its northern neighbourhood. Shipments that could travel just over a thousand kilometres instead traverse over five thousand kilometres via Iran and the Caspian Sea. Freight costs through these alternative corridors are estimated to be thirty to forty per cent higher, and delivery times often double. Initiatives such as the development of Iran’s Chabahar Port, the International North–South Transport Corridor (INSTC), and India’s accession to the Ashgabat Agreement in 2018 are important diplomatic signals, but they cannot erase the structural disadvantage of distance.

The economic consequences are measurable. Research by the Institute of Economic Growth suggests that if India had unimpeded access through Pakistan and Afghanistan, trade volumes with Central Asia could be five to ten times higher. The trade potential index — a model that estimates potential trade based on distance and GDP — ranks trade through a direct route from 10 to 15, but with detours through Iran or China, it collapses to just two or three. In concrete terms, the difference between potential and actual trade represents billions of dollars lost annually. India’s exports to Uzbekistan, for instance, are dominated by pharmaceuticals, worth approximately $167 million, as well as machinery and medical equipment. With a viable corridor, those numbers could multiply several times over. Similarly, trade with Turkmenistanstands at a mere $41 million, and with Tajikistan at around $42 million, figures that remain absurdly low for economies of this size and proximity.

The unrealised potential is most visible in the energy sector. The Turkmenistan–Afghanistan–Pakistan–India (TAPI) gas pipeline, once hailed as a flagship of regional integration, was expected to transport 33 billion cubic metres of gas annually to India’s northern markets. Three decades since its conception, it remains unfinished — a monument to regional distrust. A volatile security situation in Afghanistan and the lack of political trust between India and Pakistan has frozen the route, causing Turkmenistan to turn east instead, supplying gas to China through operational and conflict-free pipelines.

China’s ability to move swiftly within the same geography has reshaped regional alignments. Between 2018 and 2023, Chineses trade with Central Asia increased from $40 billion to almost $70 billion, while India’s trade remained stagnant at around $2 billion. The gap is not only one of resources or ambition, but of connectivity. Beijing built the infrastructure — via the Belt and Road Initiative and Central Asia–China gas pipelines —to become the region’s immediate investor and transporter. India remains a distant but friendly partner with limited physical reach.

Diplomatic Pressure Without Strategic Depth

This asymmetry also constrains India’s diplomatic posture. Within multilateral platforms like the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, where both India and Pakistan sit alongside the five republics, New Delhi’s political bandwidth is often consumed by managing its rivalry with Islamabad rather than cultivating deeper partnerships. Central Asian states — cautious by necessity — avoid choosing sides. For countries like Kazakhstan or Uzbekistan, alienating China or Pakistan is riskier than neglecting India. The result is polite stagnation: strong communiqués but limited implementation.

The gap between potential and reality is evident across sectors. India is among the world’s leading suppliers of affordable medicines; its generics already dominate parts of the Uzbek and Tajik markets. Demand for Indian pharmaceuticals, engineering goods, and educational services could expand tenfold with better logistics. Thousands of Central Asian students study in Indian universities, mostly in medicine and technology but the number could be much higher with cheaper travel. Meanwhile, Central Asia could supply India with oil, gas, uranium, and potash at competitive rates. Since 2015, Kazakhstan has supplied over 5,000 metric tons of uranium to India under a long-term contract, demonstrating that where connectivity exists, cooperation flourishes.

Defense partnerships demonstrate a similar paradox. India has established defense agreements with Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, and maintains working groups on security cooperation. Yet exercises and exchanges require circuitous routing through Iran or Russia, making sustained engagement slow and costly.

For Central Asian republics, strategic balancing remains paramount. India’s trade potential, educational capacity, and restrained diplomacy are appreciated. But economic and infrastructural dependence lean toward China, Russia, and — via the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor — increasingly Pakistan. Access to the Arabian Sea through Gwadar offers what India cannot: a functional maritime outlet. While New Delhi’s initiatives on digital technology, renewables, and training are well-received, they occupy a secondary layer in the regional hierarchy of partnerships. The Delhi Declaration of 2022, issued at the first India–Central Asia Summit, captured this reality diplomatically, calling for “peaceful resolution of regional conflicts” as a prerequisite for deeper connectivity — a clear reference to South Asia’s unresolved instability.

Time magnifies the challenge. Every additional border and detour not only raises costs but slows delivery. Studies on the INSTC and trans-Iran routes suggest that while these alternatives can reduce transit time by roughly 30–40 per centcompared to traditional Suez-based sea routes, shipments to Central Asia still take several weeks. For example, multimodal services from western India to hubs like Tashkent typically take between two to three weeks, depending on the route and the reliability due to political, security, and infrastructural uncertainties of links via Iran and the Caspian. By the time Indian goods arrive, Chinese or Turkish goods often already stock regional markets. Counter-terrorism and narcotics control cooperation are similarly constrained. While drug trafficking and cross-border extremist movements originating in Afghanistan are a shared concern, yet India’s participation in joint monitoring or training is limited to symbolic exchanges.

Can New Delhi Pursue a Continental Vision While Secluded?

India has responded to a lack of connectivity with creative alternatives. While New Delhi invests in Chabahar and deepens the INSTC through building links through Iran and Azerbaijan, it has also sought to create “digital corridors.” Through tele-education, tele-medicine, and e-governance initiatives, India has found a way to bypass connectivity issues. These initiatives matter, however they cannot substitute for the movement of goods, energy, or large-scale infrastructure. Without even minimal technical dialogue with Pakistan on transit, India’s northern horizon remains closed. Periodic crises — whether the 2019 Pulwama attack, the 2025 Pahalgam incident, or renewed ceasefire violations — only reinforce the perception that South Asia is too volatile to serve as a transit route. For investors and logistics firms, that perception translates into risk premiums and missed contracts.

The strategic price is as much in influence as it is in dollars. Central Asia could have served as India’s strategic depth in the continental balance with China; instead, it is increasingly becoming Beijing’s economic backyard. Each year of inaction entrenches new dependencies that India will struggle to unwind. The contest is not simply about pipelines and trade routes but about whose narrative of connectivity will define Eurasia in the twenty-first century. Ultimately, the struggle is about which great power will set the rules, select the partners, and shape the strategic direction of Eurasian connectivity in the twenty-first century. Connectivity is therefore not merely about infrastructure or trade; it is a vehicle for influence, trust, shared norms, and the broader balance of power across Eurasia. The contest, in essence, is about who will shape the region’s future order as much as about how goods move across it.

A Frontier of Lost Opportunity

India’s exclusion is not dictated by nature but constructed by politics. The Himalayas are real barriers; the Indian-Pakistan border is a chosen one. If even partial normalization were achieved, the geometry of Eurasian trade could shift dramatically. Containers that now take a month to travel from Kandla to Tashkent could arrive in under two weeks. Energy pipelines could flow south. Educational and digital exchanges could scale. Central Asia would gain further diversification beyond China and Russia; India would gain continental reach.

Until that possibility emerges, India’s engagement with Central Asia will remain an exercise in compensating for geography. Trade volumes will remain small, corridors incomplete, and partnerships largely declaratory. Central Asia will continue to view India as a friendly presence in diplomatic forums but an absent partner in markets and infrastructure. The cost of that absence is borne not only by India but by Central Asia itself, deprived of balance and competition.

History offers a quiet irony: lands once united by commerce, culture, and movement are now divided by modern borders. The enduring hostility between India and Pakistan has frozen not only their bilateral future but also the regional one. The numbers are unambiguous: trade that could be ten times larger, routes twice as fast, and energy networks capable of transforming economies all remain unrealized. Until the politics of hostility yield to the pragmatism of connectivity, Central Asia will remain a frontier of lost opportunity — a neighbor that India can see on every map, but cannot yet reach.

Arun Anand is a New Delhi-based author, columnist, and strategic affairs analyst whose work focuses on geopolitics, security, and civilizational studies. His work has been published across leading research platforms and media outlets.

Executive Summary

Iran’s replacement of its ambassador to Armenia in late 2025 marks a significant recalibration of Tehran’s regional strategy. The shift from Mehdi Sobhani, who is affiliated with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) Quds Force to Khalil Shirgholami, a career diplomat from Iran’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, reflects Tehran’s response to fundamental changes in the South Caucasus geopolitical landscape. The move signals Iran’s acknowledgment that its traditional approach to Armenia — leveraging security relationships and permissive transit arrangements — has become untenable in the face of Armenia’s westward orientation and growing U.S. engagement in the region.

The Strategic Context: A Changing Regional Order

The South Caucasus witnessed dramatic developments in 2025 that reshaped the strategic calculus for all regional actors. Three have been particularly consequential for Iranian interests:

First, the August 2025 U.S.-mediated normalization agreement between Armenia and Azerbaijan fundamentally altered the regional balance. This accord, which addresses long-standing territorial disputes and opens pathways for economic integration, represents a significant diplomatic achievement that reduces traditional points of leverage for external powers seeking to exploit regional tensions.

Second, the announcement of the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP), also known as the Zangezur Corridor, which links Azerbaijan proper with its Nakhchivan exclave via Armenia’s Syunik province, introduces a Western-supervised connectivity framework . TRIPP transcends conventional infrastructure development; it represents a comprehensive connectivity initiative with substantial U.S. commercial, political, and security oversight. For Tehran, this development effectively places Yerevan’s strategic transit corridors, and potentially its border with Armenia, under American scrutiny.

Third, Armenia’s broader pivot toward Western institutions has accelerated under Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s government. Yerevan has signaled interest in closer cooperation with NATO structures, expanded engagement with the European Union, and diversified security partnerships beyond its traditional reliance on Russia. These shifts reflect Armenia’s strategic reassessment following the 2020 and 2023 conflicts with Azerbaijan, during which Russian security guarantees proved insufficient.

Read the full article on the Jerusalem Institute for Strategy and Security.

Alex Grinberg is a Senior Fellow at the Turan Research Center.

Kyrgyzstan enters 2026 with the uneasy calm that follows a storm. The parliamentary elections of November 2025 passed almost unnoticed: streets that once boiled with protest are now empty of opposition rallies, and media outlets – pressured by new laws – prefer cautious, sanitized headlines. This quiet marks the culmination of five years since Sadyr Japarov’s inauguration in January 2021 and the April referendum that year on the so-called “Khanstitution” – a constitution that promised stability but, according to critics, returned the country to Central Asia’s authoritarian traditions.

Japarov rose to power on a wave of popular anger. The parliamentary elections of October 2020, marred by widespread allegations of vote-buying and fraud, triggered unrest that toppled then-President Sooronbay Jeenbekov. Freed from prison by a crowd, Japarov – a nationalist previously convicted over the kidnapping of a regional official during protests against foreign mining interests – quickly seized the prime minister’s post and went on to win the presidency. The referendum on the new constitution, dubbed the “Khanstitution” for its heavy presidential bias, was held amid low turnout and allegations of violations, transferring power from parliament into the hands of a single individual: Japarov.

Read the full article on The Diplomat.

Aigerim Turgunbaeva is a Research Fellow at the Turan Research Center.

Alex Grinberg joins the Russian service of Kaan Radio's "Good Morning, Israel Broadcast." In the interview, he discusses how the conception that chaos would follow the fall of the Iranian regime is a narrative spread by the Islamic Republic targeted at the West. In the interview, Grinberg also discusses:

• The end of the proxy era: after direct strikes between Israel and Iran, whether there are any remaining “rules of the game,” and if a major war is inevitable;

• The great uncertainty: who will succeed the aging Khamenei, and will the transfer of power turn into an elite civil war;

• The Iranian street: how “Generation Z” lives, why young people are abandoning religion en masse, and what the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement has become today.

Watch the full interview here (Russian).

Alex Grinberg is a Senior Fellow at the Turan Research Center.

The Ukraine War has turned Kyrgyzstan into a key intermediary for Russian imports, but economic growth is unevenly shared.

In Central Asia, Kyrgyzstan—a mountainous, landlocked country of 7 million people—has long relied on remittances and gold exports to sustain its economy. In recent years, however, the country has experienced an unexpected surge in economic growth. Preliminary figures indicate GDP growth of 10.2 percent during the first 11 months of 2025, while year-end projections from the World Bank and the IMF range from approximately 6.8 percent to 8.5 percent. These figures place Kyrgyzstan among the fastest-growing economies in the region. If current growth rates continue, Kyrgyzstan could begin to close the gap with Kazakhstan’s GDP per capita within the next five years.

A significant share of this growth is directly linked to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the Western sanctions that followed. As sanctions restricted Russia’s access to Western markets, Moscow increasingly turned to Bishkek as a convenient intermediary. 

Re-exports of machinery, electronics, and goods with potential dual-use applications—many originating in China or the European Union—flowed through Kyrgyzstan alongside remittances, infrastructure financing, and cryptocurrency transactions that help sustain Russia’s wartime economy. Russia has relied not only on Kyrgyzstan’s financial system but also, to varying degrees, on Armenia and smaller volumes routed through Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan.

Read the full article on The National Interest.

Aigerim Turgunbaeva is a Research Fellow at the Turan Research Center.