Category Archives: Politics

Connecting the dots around the XUAR Camps: bringing together a year of diverse research, by Rune Steenberg (University of Copenhagen)

Scholarship and advocacy

It has been a good year since the international media and organisations world wide have begun to pay increased attention to the internment camps in Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region. With the Chinese state clouding the issue in secrecy, even the most basic facts about the camps have become grounds for contestation. This ranges from contesting the number of detainees and types of camps and their actual conditions, to debating the intended purpose of the mass internments and their place in contemporary Chinese politics, to still farther discussing the contextualisation of the camps within global political economic structures and which historical comparisons are adequate or even permissible. The debates call to mind the late Elliot Sperling’s brilliant NYT opinion piece “Don’t know much about Tibetan history,” in which he reminds us that simplistic narratives of complex processes rarely stand the test of facts. This does not mean, however that the truth is necessarily to be found half way between the two extreme versions, nor does it mean that the accounts of the victims should be disregarded. On the contrary, they should be listened to attentively in detail.

Uncannily graphic testimonies of violence and abuse in the camps and beyond have been supported by ample evidence. Likewise the purge against Uyghur elites and the surveillance and indoctrination in XUAR more broadly have been convincingly documented. The death sentences of top ranking academics with a history of supporting party politics like Tashpolat Tiyip,[i] Sattar Sawut,[ii] and Halmurat Ghopur,[iii] are but some of the most obvious demonstrations of political motivation and ethnic targeting in the courts. It is beyond doubt that crimes are being committed and great wrong has been done in XUAR, but our analyses and understanding of the situation is still fairly fragmented. Many of our attempts at reaching a larger picture, include extrapolations and estimations based on overly limited information. The still much needed testimonies and other evidence do not always fit neatly together to form a coherent whole. This does not mean that any of it is wrong. It means that we are missing pieces in the puzzle. Denying access to information, as the Chinese state does on XUAR, is a mighty tool of those in power and one that works well with an international media-scape dominated by profit-based outlets. To counter it we need fact focused, critical methods that make maximum use of the limited information available – including those sources we prefer to dismiss.

Political teaching rally in southern Xinjiang. This is not in a camp. Image circulated publicly on Chinese social media spring 2019

If we want to approach a deeper understanding of what has happened, is happening and might come to happen in XUAR, serious scholars working on the issue need to meticulously hold on to two methodological principles: 1) Keep explicitly distinct established facts from estimations and extrapolations. 2) Bring together our results and as far as possible share the data from which they derive. This does not mean that scholars have to stop advocacy. After all, we are not instruments but human beings with a political conscious that we need to express and follow. Most of us have our reasons to choose to engage with certain issues and not others that reflect our political convictions. Yet, it means that we do not let those convictions obscure our methods when moving from empirical data via analysis to conclusions and the honest presentation of those conclusions.

Sources of information

The past year has been impressively productive in terms of research on the camps, policing, surveillance and various issues of labour in XUAR. It is no easy task to bring all of this together, and I harbour no illusions of being able to do it justice here. Not least because the methods used and the scholarly backgrounds of those involved have varied so broadly. Yet this also provides a great chance: that of triangulating and double-checking conclusions reached by one approach with those of others. The connecting link is the reality as it is now playing out behind the veil of CCP propaganda and restrictions on access and reporting. This veil has been perforated by many different means over the past year and as a result we have come to feel several different parts of the elephant behind it.

Government propaganda poster promoting ethnic unity, Kashgar 2016, by author.

In spring 2019, a Central Asian Survey Special Issue[iv] on the situation in XUAR convincingly portrayed the ongoing securitisation of the region. Uyghur diaspora activists and the Uyghur journalists at Radio Free Asia have likewise provided invaluable information even if their analyses sometimes require earnest source criticism. The website shahit.biz run by Gene Bunin has documented an impressive 4800+ testimonies about people detained or disappeared in the Chen Quanguo-era and also provides statistics. The testimonies have been collected in large part with the help of the Almaty based advocacy group Ata Jurt and Uyghur voices are still underrepresented. Based on his cases, Bunin has recently argued that we need to pay less attention to camps and more attention to prisons. Camp inmates are being transferred to prisons in massive numbers, as has also been reported by the New York Times.[v] The Australian Strategic Policy Institute, who provided satellite imagery evidence of massive camp extension[vi] in 2017-2018, is according to a Twitter-thread[vii] by Nathan Ruser preparing a new report. He has already concluded that many facilities are being downgraded in terms of security levels and other sources report that schools and other institutions that had come to serve as camps have in part been transformed back to their original functions.

Gate of an early small-scale re-education camp.  Photo August 2016 in Karakash by author.

These reports should not be hastily interpreted as either the problem being solved due to international pressure or as lies and pure cosmetic maneuvers. Rather they should be brought together with other information, such as the transitions of inmates from internment or re-education to forms of coerced labour, recently reported by Adrian Zenz and others.[viii] This also applies to the announcement in late July by XUAR governor and Uyghur face of Chen Quanguo’s reign, Shohret Zakir, that most camp inmates had been released and 90% of those had found work (in many outlets mistranslated as 90% having been released). Instead of whole sale dismissing such a statement as propaganda lies unworthy of our time, we need to consider what it may mean. What is it intended to show and what kind of distorted information does it carry if read critically against the grain of its speakers intent? The camp landscape in XUAR is evidently changing, with inmates being transferred to prisons with an extensive history of forced labour and to sweatshop-like factories. Signing a contract looks voluntary, but is for many the only way out of camp. Read in this light, Zakir’s words sound darkly cynical rather than fabricated and the security downgrading looks less like a solved problem than an obscured one.

Generally the economic aspects have begun to receive increased attention. This includes the involvement of western companies as exposed in the work of Benjamin Haas[ix] and on the website ChinaFile.[x] Yet, the full connection to China’s more general economic strategy, including the Belt and Road Initiative that has continuously been mentioned as a motivating factor for mass detentions in XUAR, has to my knowledge not yet been convincingly established. Again, this does in no way mean that it does not exist. It is merely another one of many bricks in this giant puzzle that is still not in place. The same is true for connecting the XUAR camps to global trends of forced labour, mass incarceration and surveillance more generally. Such contextualisations provide fruitful fields for further study.

The flag raising ceremony, since 2016 a weekly event for most Uyghurs in southern Xinjiang. Image circulated publicly on Chinese social media spring 2019

It is important to stress that honest uncertainty about details or numbers does not imply a general questioning of the unlawfulness and violence of the detentions. The same is true for calling out the political motivations of involved actors: US condemnations of China on the issue of XUAR and their sanctions put on individuals and companies[xi] involved in the securitisation of Xinjiang, welcome as they are, seem to come at a conveniently opportune moment for the White House and others intent on retaining US domination of markets and political spheres of influence. To recognize this fact certainly invokes skepticism towards particular “facts” and numbers presented without evidence or as CIA intelligence by an administration infamous for its strategical relation to the truth. But it in no way implies that the atrocities committed in XUAR do not take place. This is one of the factors that makes critical, scientifically committed research on this issue, independent of governments, companies and other actors with vested interest in it so crucially important.

Asking the right questions: Testimonies in Context

I have myself been involved in the collection of testimonies of former detainees of centers and camps in XUAR. I have personally interviewed about a dozen camp survivors now residing outside of China and read or seen testimonies of about as many more. Some of these testimonies offered hours of embarrassingly minute detail. The picture they provide, cross-verifying details repeated by people who did not know of each other and lived on different continents, documents a very sophisticated and highly government-controlled system of abuse around the so-called re-education camps.

From inside the camps we know as established fact that torture and abuse take place. We cannot say for certain how wide-spread or frequent it is across the camps and in time. We also know of camps where such abuse was not experienced by particular inmates during their months of incarceration. We know that many inmates were given pills on a regular basis and that several have reported experiencing memory loss and halting of their menstrual cycle. We cannot establish a proven causal effect between these facts. We also know of suicide attempts and that many former inmates suffer from post-traumatic stress. We know of deaths in camp by both old and young inmates but mostly we do not have reliable data on their exact causes. We know that almost every corner of camps, homes and neighbourhoods is surveilled, but we also know that many arrests and interrogations still take place on the basis of personal denunciations and that even inmates in their cells have managed to outsmart the guards to a degree. We know that in many camps the inmates were forbidden to communicate with each other and speak their native languages, Uyghur or Kazakh. But we also have ample testimony of inmates who could relay long and detailed stories of those they shared a cell with, and we know that Uyghur and Kazakh in some camps were used as languages of instruction.

This does not mean that the testimonies contradict each other or are invalid! It means that things are complex and more research is needed. A big part of this is to connect the information we already have, as we are closing in on being able to ask the right questions. The most effective strategy is not to try to consolidate our various attempts at extrapolation but to connect the actual data and thus test and continuously revise our understanding of the larger picture.

Family members visiting detainees in an unknown facility in Xinjiang. Image circulated publicly on Chinese social media spring 2019

As a small contribution, I would like to share with you some of the lesser discussed facts I have come to know through interviews. While nightly raids had been common in many parts of XUAR since 2014, in early 2017 a new element was added. Instead of merely searching the house, family members were taken away for hour-long interrogations at night and brought back before sunrise. Questioning often took place in regular government offices that had been equipped with a so-called “black box” of iron inside which the person was handcuffed onto an iron chair. In the months before, high ranking cadre had been informed about the re-education facilities in secret meetings. In several villages neighbours disappeared one by one until many places were left half empty.

Nathan Ruser has described different security levels of camps, but in our interviews we also heard of the inmates being sorted into different levels of security within the same compound. Depending on behavior they could be shifted up and down the ladder. While in some camps rote learning of propaganda and regulations was examined in multiple-choice tests, in others the teaching was very informal being administered by a chosen prisoner with good language skills who was made responsible for a cell of 30-50 people. Here most teaching and examination happened orally amongst the inmates themselves. In several facilities, methods reminiscent of behavioristic cognitive psychology were used such as excessive repetition of one sentence for a full hour, morning routines involving expressing loudly the three gratitudes (to the party, to Xi Jinping and to the country) and three wishes (long life for Xi Jinping, prosperity of the country and – ironically – ethnic harmony) as well as daily rehearsals of self-criticism and repentance.

Much effort seems to have been spent on erasing paper trails from the camps. Much crucial communication took place orally and we have reports of papers being routinely collected and burnt. Still, many inmates report signing documents with camp rules and regulations when entering, policy papers explaining the purpose of the camps were shown to its teachers, and we also have reports of archive files about each interned person. So far the most important p aper traces from the camps reaching us are release certificates and three published letters written by inmates to their relatives. More is likely to appear and serve as central points of reference for analysis.

Some of our interviews suggest that camps of the type shown to foreign journalists on the carefully curated government guided tours really do exist, though actual dance or art classes have not been described. Vocational training also seemingly takes place to prepare inmates for their transfer to factories. This in no way legitimates any of the camps. Even under acceptable conditions, internment is still a traumatising experience and most all have stayed in overcrowded detention centers previous to the camps. We need to recognize all the evidence we can collect – even the parts that do not at first sight fit with our own understanding of the larger picture or our political inclinations – in order to reach at a picture that is complex enough to be trustworthy. A differentiated picture created in genuine effort to understand the situation in all its aspects, besides being closer to the truth is also much more solid and less easily dismissed than those based on selective evidence and estimations.

The scientific method may prove to be a sharper tool than the various shades of propaganda regularly put forth by all sides, as well-meaning as some of them may be.

[i]  https://www.centraleurasia.org/2019/statement-concerning-disappearance-and-sentencing-of-tashpolat-tiyip-former-president-of-xinjiang-university/; https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-china-49956088

[ii]  https://sinopsis.cz/en/appeal-to-stop-the-execution-of-three-uyghur-intellectuals/

[iii] https://www.rfa.org/english/news/uyghur/sentence-09282018145150.html 

[iv] https://www.tandfonline.com/toc/ccas20/38/1

[v] https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/31/world/asia/xinjiang-china-uighurs-prisons.html

[vi] https://www.aspi.org.au/report/mapping-xinjiangs-re-education-camps

[vii]https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1175353408749891584.html

[viii] https://osf.io/preprints/socarxiv/8tsk2

[ix]   https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/21/opinion/xinjiang-business.html ; http://www.chinafile.com/reporting-opinion/features/which-european-companies-are-working-xinjiang

[x] http://www.chinafile.com/reporting-opinion/features/here-are-fortune-500-companies-doing-business-xinjiang

[xi]  https://edition.cnn.com/2019/10/08/business/us-china-xinjiang-black-list-intl-hnk/index.html; https://www.state.gov/u-s-department-of-state-imposes-visa-restrictions-on-chinese-officials-for-repression-in-xinjiang/

More of The Same: Kazakhstan’s leadership change between ageing leadership and popular discontent, by Luca Anceschi (University of Glasgow)

If there is only one lesson to be learned from Kyrgyzstan’s recent presidential dispute—a chain of tumultuous events that led to the arrest and detention of erstwhile leader A.S. Atambayev[1]—is that post-transition relationships between Central Asia’s incumbents and its former presidents continue to represent one the most intriguing political mechanisms at play in the region. These relationships, it ought to be noted, seem to occur at very rare junctures: Central Asia’s leaders tend to remain in power for decades, reducing the transfer of power to élite-driven mechanisms that do normally set in motion only in the aftermath of a presidential death. The playbook for post-mortem tranzit vlasti was perfected through successfully orchestrated presidential successions in Turkmenistan (2006-2007) and Uzbekistan (2016); at the time of writing, there is no conclusive evidence to maintain that post-Rahmon Tajikistan will deviate significantly from this norm.

The option to observe newly elected (or appointed) leaders interacting with their predecessors is therefore only available in the Kyrgyz context, which continues to hold regular elections despite its continuously sliding democratic record and, since 19 March 2019, in Kazakhstan, where long-term leader N.A. Nazarbaev relinquished the presidency to facilitate the accession to power of K.K. Tokayev, an established regime insider, former foreign minister and, since 2011, the chairman of the Kazakhstani Senate.

Relatively free and fair elections do generally legitimise Kyrgyzstan’s elected presidents, who enjoy as a consequence a modicum of popular support throughout the single mandate allowed by the Kyrgyz Constitution.[2] A set of different dynamics came to the fore in post-Nazarbaev Kazakhstan, where presidential succession was sealed through an élite-dominated process that sought its popular legitimation via a regime-controlled election. Here, the Kazakhstani population attempted to throw a spanner in the works of such a carefully orchestrated tranzit vlasti mechanism: both prior and after the vote that formalised Tokayev’s accession to the presidency, protests and demonstrations erupted in the country’s principal urban centres, as anti-regime sentiments came to the define the local political debates in the spring of 2019. It is precisely to the contribution played by Kazakhstan’s politically active population to the establishment of a working incumbent/predecessor relationship in post-Nazarbaev Kazakhstan that this blog entry devotes its ultimate attention.

Kazakhstan’s much anticipated transition

A look at the overarching strategy put into place by the Kazakhstani regime between 2014 and 2019, but most emphatically in the period that followed the death of Islam Karimov (August 2016), indicates that Nazarbaev’s resignation did not represent an impromptu decision. There is sufficient evidence to maintain that, in the timeframe in question, the Kazakhstani regime had designed and implemented a comprehensive process to orchestrate a transition out of the Nazarbaev presidency. A series of government reshuffles and the frequent introduction of legislative adjustments represented the two key drivers sustaining Nazarbaev’s attempt to instigate a thorough mechanism of leadership rejuvenation without incurring in the risks inevitably associated with regime change dynamics.

Placing the spotlight on the recent career trajectory of K.Q. Massimov—the second most powerful regime member of the late Nazarbaev era—identifies with some precision the élite component of Kazakhstan’s leadership change mechanism. Appointed to the country’s prime ministership in the spring of 2014, Massimov was eventually moved to the chairmanship of the Kazakhstani KNB (September 2016). Rather than an apparent demotion, this move came to embody politically the gap existing between the inner location of Kazakhstan’s authoritarian power and its institutional representation. Massimov’s appointment shifted an unviable candidate for succession—his ethnic profile is regarded as generally incongruous with the wider process of Kazakh-ification of Kazakhstan’s political life that has been undergoing in the post-Soviet years—to a position of not visible, yet certainly not marginal, influence. Massimov emerged as one of the king-makers in the identification of a suitable post-Nazarbaev leadership, while his appointment at the helm of the KNB replicated the structural organisation of pre-transitional Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, where indisputably central roles in leadership selection were assigned to prominent representatives of the power ministries, namely A.K. Rezhepov in Turkmenistan and R.R. Inoyatov in Uzbekistan.

At the time of his accession to the prime ministership, B.A. Sagintaev, who replaced Massimov as Kazakhstan’s PM, had apparently been groomed for a top political appointment for at least five years. The 2016 reshuffle seemed to have in this established a solid transitional diarchy to regulate an eventual presidential transition, while the elevation of Darigha Nazarbaeva to a Senate seat guaranteed Kazakhstan’s first family a further stronghold in the institutional configuration of the late Nazarbaev era.

The second constituent element of the authoritarian environment wherein to launch a presidential transition was represented by the establishment of an adequate legislative framework to safeguard, in case of a voluntary resignation from the presidency, the power position of Nazarbaev and of his immediate family, guaranteeing at the same time their business interests and immunity from crimes committed while in office. Carefully crafted and continuously amended between 2000 and 2010, the Law ‘On the First President of the Republic of Kazakhstan—the Leader of the Nation’ was basically meant to avoid the repetition, in post-Nazarbaev Kazakhstan, of the dynamics that led to the political marginalisation and expropriation of the wealth held by Uzbekistan’s first family, with particular reference to the arrest and protracted detention of Gulnara Karimova, the elder daughter of the late I.A. Karimov.

The premeditated nature of Nazarbaev’s resignation became evident in early 2019. On 4 February, the president himself addressed the Constitutional Council requesting detailed information about the powers he would retain in case of voluntary resignation. Nazarbaev’s eventual backpedalling did not silence those observers who regarded a change of guard in Ak Orda as an option not to be discarded a priori. A few weeks later (21 February), Nazarbaev demanded the resignation of the entire Kazakhstani government, appointing A.U. Mamin as the country’s interim prime minister. The exceptionality of this latter development did not reside in Nazarbaev’s very public reprimands of the government’s agenda—a common trait in Central Asian authoritarianism—nor did it relate to the president’s attempts to scapegoat Sagintaev for Kazakhstan’s poor economic performance. Indeed, Kazakhstan’s authoritarian practice has regularly presented the president’s direct intervention as a panacea for even the most severe economic crisis. Rather, the governmental reshuffle of late February 2019 is significant insofar as it realigned Kazakhstan’s transitional team to the patronage network of its principal king-maker. As a long-term associate of K.Q. Massimov, Askar Mamin was expected to rule in unison with the KNB chairman, completing a triumvirate of which the Nazarbaev family has to be seen as the third vertex.

The authoritarian milieu described above was undoubtedly established with a view to facilitate an intra-regime mechanism of presidential succession, that is excluding political outsiders or regime dissenters from the highest institution in the Republic of Kazakhstan. It is nevertheless difficult to identify the single factor that accelerated Nazarbaev’s decision to resign from the presidency. Nazarbaev’s self-perception of his age, his preoccupation with a rapidly eroding legacy, or even the ultimate retribution of previously sealed élite pacts may be some of the key factors behind the decision announced publicly on 19 March 2019. Speculations aside, the president’s announcement clearly noted that the succession process initiated by his resignation ought to follow the constitutional dictates, which stipulate the assignment to the interim presidency to the Chairman of the Senate, a post occupied at the time by K.K. Tokayev. The latter’s selection, yet again, did not represent an accidental development: on the one hand, Tokayev’s loyalty to the regime preservation agenda was (and continues to be) unquestionable; on the other, executing a presidential transition following the constitutional dictates set Kazakhstan aside from the regional praxis, where power transfers had hitherto led to the arrest (Turkmenistan) or voluntary resignation (Uzbekistan) of the legitimate presidential successors. For a regime that has traditionally put a premium of differentiating between the governance practices of post-Soviet Kazakhstan and those followed by its immediate neighbours, the execution of a constitutionally impeccable transition at the end of a long, and ultimately post-colonial, presidency did indeed constitute a significant achievement.

The final adjustment to Kazakhstan’s post-Nazarbaev institutional settings was represented by the selection of Darigha Nazarbaeva as Tokayev’s replacement on the Senate Chair. While this author has always approached with vocal scepticism any discussion on the prospects for dynastic succession in Central Asia, it is nevertheless true that this appointment places Nazarbaev’s daughter into the top succession position should Tokayev die or become incapacitated while in office. To my mind, Nazarbaeva’s rise to a top institutional post is the institutional facet of the legislative guarantees enshrined in the First President law, inasmuch as it protects the mid-term power position of the first family, while ensuring that, at least until Kazakhstan’s first president remains alive, the dynamics we saw at play in post-Karimov Uzbekistan are not to be replicated in Kazakhstan.

This orchestrated process was meant to be concluded smoothly, as the regime expected a rapid electoral validation through a tightly controlled vote scheduled for 9 June. Beyond the immediate shock for the departure of a long-serving, and generally respected, leader, some segments of the wider Kazakhstani population reacted with visible dissatisfaction to the post-Nazarbaev transition. As a consequence, Kazakhstani-watchers spent the early Tokayev era by looking at changing patterns of regime-population relations, rather than speculating on the development of a working collaboration between Nazarbaev and his hand-picked successor.

Mis-managed expectations: The population’s reaction to Kazakhstan’s transition

The Nazarbaev regime was not the only actor to anticipate Kazakhstan’s inevitable presidential succession. The people, or at least some segments of the Kazakhstani population, have been preparing for years to, or at least discussing the context leading to, leadership turnover in Ak Orda. For much of the 2010s, Kazakhstan lived through a Twilight Zone,[3] wherein flawed assessments of the country’s authoritarian stability and of the population’s political behaviour created an unstable political environment predicated upon Nazarbaev’s ageing leadership. The ambition to have an elected second president, rather than a merely appointed one, seemed to have been shared by a significant number of ordinary Kazakhs, and it underpinned the popular reaction to the orchestrated transition completed between March and June 2019.

The post-Nazarbaev era began with the brutal repression of popular demonstrations held across Kazakhstan to protests the perceived democratic deficit of the popular vote that sanctioned Tokayev’s election. The optics of video reports originating from Kazakhstan across June 2019 were quite dispiriting, establishing a direct parallel with the Zhanaozen events of 2011, in the sense that, yet again, we witnessed the public suppression of ordinary citizens manifesting their views while the country was meant to celebrate collectively an important landmark of its independent life.[4]

Images here from the Oyan, KZ facebook page, and of the reporting on the ‘You can’t run from the truth’ action in Vlast.kz 22 April 2019.

The establishment of dissenting movements including Oyan, Qazaqstan [Wake up, Kazakhstan] and the popularisation of slogans challenging the nature of the presidential transition itself—Ot pravdy ne ubezhish’ [You can’t run from the truth]; U menya est’ vybor [I have a choice]—confirmed the views expressed by Dossym Satpayev[5] so far as the leadership’s misperception of the population’s passivity as an indicator of its fundamental loyalty to rules and norms imposed by the regime. It is not clear whether the public moment that pro-democracy activists have come to experience in 2019 can evolve into the institutionalisation of established opposition forces. However, the diffusion of anti-regime sentiments as the first president leaves Kazakhstan’s political limelight reveals a disconnect between ordinary Kazakhs and the post-Nazarbaev élites, a disconnect that, incidentally, has not emerged as visibly in the Uzbek context, where the population seems to be largely onboard with the political agenda introduced by Sh.M. Mirziyoyev.

Tokayev choose to relate to policies and practices established by his predecessor through a posture of unwavering continuity, misinterpreting the significant demands for change that the wider populations expressed more or less openly throughout the 2010s. Much of the regime’s future stability may be therefore predicated upon its willingness and ability to address this fundamental governance problem.

Notes

[1] Global coverage of these events includes: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/07/world/asia/former-president-kyrgyzstan-arrest.html; https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-49273236; https://www.reuters.com/article/us-kyrgyzstan-atambayev/kyrgyz-ex-president-arrested-accused-of-coup-plan-state-media-idUSKCN1V30EJ ; https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2019/08/kyrgyz-officer-killed-president-atambayev-evades-arrest-190808043214601.html

[2] For an overview of contemporary politics and society in Kyrgyzstan, see for example Kyrgyzstan: Beyond ‘Democracy Island’ and ‘Failing State’: Social and Political Changes in a Post Soviet Society, edited by Marlene Laruelle and Johan Engvall (2015).

[3] D. Satpayev (ed.), Sumerechnaya Zona ili lovuuski perekhodnogo perioda (Almaty: Alyans Analiticheskikh Organizatsii, 2013).

[4] Protests and arrests were highlighted in international media coverage of the election, for example https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-48574540; https://thediplomat.com/2019/06/kazakhstans-presidential-election-protests-arrests-and-a-presidency-for-tokayev/; https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2019/06/hundreds-arrested-kazakhstan-election-protests-190613201849137.html ; https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/09/world/asia/kazakhstan-election-president.html

[5] ‘Are Risks Increasing for Kazakhstan? An interview with Dossym Satpayev’, Voices of Central Asia, 18 April 2019. See also his recent commentary on these topics here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keaom9QJUp8&feature=youtu.be&fbclid=IwAR12Z_6WFp-TyfeUr0Ul0vg44CV24XjM1cw1HLTQqdaMwEmrAVPCfOCR_dc

Securitisation and Mass Detentions in Xinjiang by Rachel Harris, SOAS University of London

The Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region in China is home to some 12 million indigenous Turkic speaking Muslims, primarily Uyghurs but also smaller numbers of Kazakhs and others. It is now one of the most heavily policed areas in the world. Inhabitants are controlled and monitored to an extraordinary degree and detained in extraordinary numbers. These extreme policies are justified by the claim that China is fighting Islamic radicalisation and extremism.

Continue reading Securitisation and Mass Detentions in Xinjiang by Rachel Harris, SOAS University of London

Unpacking Kazakhstan’s Election Data

Dena Sholk conducted research in Kazakhstan during its recent presidential election.  She graduates this month from Georgetown University with an M.A. in Eurasian, Russian and Eastern European Studies.  The following is excerpted from her personal blog, http://thesholkroadadventures.blogspot.com, and is presented here by her kind permission.  She also just published in The Diplomat on Kazakhstan’s internal politics (Click here)

Dena Sholk

While it is no surprise that President Nazarbayev was reelected with an overwhelming majority, the political implications of the elections, and the factors driving them in the first place, are more dynamic than have been presented in most Western media sources.

I am no Nate Silver, but as a political-economist, I do love some data analysis. Let’s look at the numbers. The Central Election Commission (CEC) reported that President Nazarbayev was reelected with 97% of the vote, with 95% voter turnout. Kussainov secured .68% and Syzdykov secured 1.68%.

I tallied up the votes from the oblasts reported by the CEC (available here) and I obtained slightly different numbers. As you see, I obtained a voter turnout of 94.93%. The sum of the reported oblast-level data totaled 9,036,724, whereas the CEC reported 9,090,920 voters.

This was fishy. So I wrote to my contact at the CEC, who is the head of international affairs for the body. He responded that the difference can be explained by votes that were not counted because they indicated multiple candidates on their ballot and/or it was not possible to determine which candidate the voter selected. In total, there were 54,196 ballots that were discarded because they were illegible. This is understandable. After all, let us not forget the saga of the 2000 Presidential election with the vote count in Florida.

dataarbol_vcorrect

 

(On a side note – my contact has been very transparent and helpful both in Astana and communicating via email. As a foreigner, my interactions with government officials in any former Soviet state can be very hit or miss, so cheers to him for his professionalism.)

I spoke with the CEC after they announced the votes. In total, 93 complaints were registered. Most of these complaints were focused on issues surrounding the candidates, but no complaints were reported on violations of an individual’s right to vote.

Because the OSCE/ODIHR did not report major fraud, and noted that the elections were efficiently administered, I am going to accept the data as it is presented. Given the high turnout, is it possible that there was some sort of manipulation of votes? Sure. But I do not have the evidence to substantiate such a claim. Plus, in some of my more academic work, I deal with a lot of data from this region, and I can assure you, there is no such thing as good data. You work with what you have.

650px-Kazakhstan_provinces_and_province_capitals

The numbers are quite revealing.

First, Nazarbayev secured the lowest percentage of the vote in Almaty city. With 92.55%, while this is the highest of all three candidates, it is the lowest level of support out of all of the oblasts and administrative districts.

Second, Kusainov proved to be a marginal candidate. I interviewed the leadership team of Kusainov. They indicated that they set up field offices in almost every oblast, except for oblasts they knew they did not have a chance. One of those oblasts was Mangistau. Not surprisingly, Kusainov only secured 707 votes there. Kusainov performed best in Almaty city (1.48%) and in Karaganda oblast (1.07%). Kusainov is from Karaganda oblast so he is a “favorite son.” In Almaty, voters who did not support Nazarbayev likely selected Kusainov as an alternative.

Third, Syzdykov performed remarkably well in Almaty, with 5.97% of the vote. I suspect that he attracted many older voters. He did less well in Astana city, securing 1.12% of the vote. The average age in Astana is 32 and almost everyone works in the government in some capacity, so it is not surprising that support for Syzdykov was low (but higher than in other oblasts and cities), and that Nazarbayev secured a strong 98.54% of the vote. Interestingly, Syzdykov performed the strongest in Mangistau oblast. Mangistau is an oil-producing region that borders the Caspian. According to Mangistau’s Development Strategy 2011-2015, the oblast had the second highest per capita GDP in Kazakhstan of 2542,5 thousand tenge in 2009. This is also 2.3 times higher than the national average for per capita GDP of 1068 thousand tenge. This is however, an inflated number because of the amount of oil produced and the high salaries of international oil workers. Many low ranking oil workers do not obtain attractive salaries and Mangistau has historically been a place of discontent and unrest. There were riots in the Mangistau in 1989 and in 2010. It is therefore not surprising that voters showed great support for Syzdykov.

On a methodological note, voters are registered to vote by their propiska – or registration. Every citizen in Kazakhstan has a propiska that is associated with an oblast. If I am living in Almaty city, and my propiska is in East Kazakhstan Oblast, in order to vote in Almaty, I must obtain the necessary documentation (like an out of state ballot) to cast the vote. In terms of the results of the data, this means that there are voters who are voting in areas outside of the regions where they are registered. Many people who work in Astana, for example, still have their Almaty propiska, simply because they haven not yet gotten around to the paperwork.

Dena Sholk

http://thesholkroadadventures.blogspot.com/p/about.html

CESS Book Award for Study on Osh & Interpreting Authoritarianism

At the last CESS Conference at Columbia University, Morgan Liu (our new CESS Blog editor!) received the CESS Book Award for best monograph in the social sciences published 2012-2013 for Under Solomon’s Throne: Uzbek Visions of Societal Renewal in Osh (2012 Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press).    Continue reading CESS Book Award for Study on Osh & Interpreting Authoritarianism