Russia has long courted Uzbekistan for membership in the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU), a customs union comprising five post-Soviet states – Russia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Armenia.

Moscow sees the Central Asian state’s 35 million population and growing economy as making it an ideal addition to the bloc. Uzbekistan gained observer status to the EAEU in 2020, and many assumed that it would be the next state to join. However, Tashkent has since dragged its feet.

Russia resorted to sending Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin on a two-day visit in September to try to speed up the process, but Uzbekistan appears unimpressed. 

On October 17, First Deputy Speaker of the Oliy Majlis (Uzbekistan’s parliament) Akmal Saidov stated that the country would not be joining any time soon. “After carefully studying more than a thousand different documents,” he said, “it is in the interests of Uzbekistan to maintain observer status in the EAEU.” He went on to cite the experience of Kazakhstan, which, he claimed, “has received very few benefits from joining.”

Tashkent’s reticence partly reflects the fact that it has options. According to data from the state statistics agency for the first quarter of 2024, Russia only accounted for 13 percent of foreign direct investment into Uzbekistan. China leads the way with 23 percent, while South Korea, Turkiye, and the UAE also account for substantial portions. Uzbekistan’s appeal to foreign investors was highlighted recently by the interest of UAE firm MBS Investments in funding the Tashkent to Andijan toll road. Meanwhile, with construction finally set to get underway on the China-Kyrgyzstan-Uzbekistan railway, Tashkent is hoping to see a trade bonanza over the coming years.

The Crocus Effect

Russia has also contributed to Uzbekistan’s skittishness.

In recent decades, the Kremlin’s key piece of leverage over Uzbekistan has been the millions of migrant workers who travel north to work in Russian cities. Remittances from Uzbek migrant workers were worth $16.1 billion to the Uzbek economy in 2022, equivalent to some 21 percent of GDP. The vast majority of these remittances – 68 percent of the total – came from Russia, and Moscow has long dangled the promise of simplified access to the Russian labor market as a prize for EAEU accession. 

As a market for migrant labor, Russia holds some key advantages: the visa requirements are minimal, and Uzbeks generally have a better knowledge of basic Russian compared to English. 

However, Tashkent has been making efforts to diversify, actively exploring how European Union nations could provide opportunities for Uzbek migrant labor. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, on his recent visit to Samarkand, signed a deal with Uzbek President Shavkat Mirziyoyev designed to simplify the entry of skilled Uzbek workers into Germany, particularly in the health sector. 

Moreover, wages in Uzbekistan itself are rising. Department Chief at the Agency for External Labor Migration of Uzbekistan Alisher Ruziev noted in June that “Uzbekistan is experiencing a construction boom and, naturally, our wages are on par with some sites in the Russian Federation.” Indeed, the devaluation of the ruble, and the threat of recruitment into the Russian armed forces, saw remittances from migrant workers fall by nearly 50 percent from 2022-23.

Russia’s appeal has further diminished after the extreme backlash that followed a terrorist attack at Moscow’s Crocus City Hall, a music venue, on March 22. The attack, which led to the deaths of 145 people, was blamed on four migrants from Tajikistan. That led to widespread targeting within Russia of anyone with an “oriental appearance,” including threats to burn down Central Asian businesses, boycotting non-Slavic taxi drivers, and slitting car tires.

“People have gradually begun to understand that our ‘older brother’ doesn’t consider us one of the family,” said Nozim Safari, a Tashkent-based journalist, referring to Russia’s prime role among the fraternal peoples of the Soviet Union. 

On an official level, the Russian authorities deported 93,000 people in the first six months of this year, 53 percent more than the same period in 2023. This is in addition to denying entry to over 143,000. The majority of these deportees and those turned away were of Central Asian origin. And new laws are set to come in next year that will further restrict the freedoms of migrants in Russia. 

“If Russia’s attitude towards our migrants does not change, then in ten years we may see fewer and fewer migrants heading north,” said Safari, before stressing the importance of better relations with the West. “We would like Western politicians to pay attention to the potential of Uzbek labor migrants and understand their benefit to society and the countries of the European Union. Uzbeks are very hardworking and decent people.”

Cards Left to Play

Is this yet another a tale of a post-Soviet state drifting out of Moscow’s embrace? Perhaps. But the Kremlin can still use its vast natural resources as levers in diplomatic negotiations. 

Since late-2023, Russia has been selling gas to Uzbekistan at an immense discount. Uzbek newspaper Gazeta reported in September that the country was paying Gazprom $160 per thousand cubic meters (tcm) for gas, just 55 percent of the rate China paid in 2023 ($286/tcm). For reference, Western Europe generally pays between $400-500/tcm.

Gazprom’s prices are so low that Uzbekistan, despite having large gas reserves of its own, has more than doubled its imports from Russia, and is now a net importer of gas. Such has been the supply glut that Tashkent has allocated $500 million to modernize old pipelines in an attempt to increase the supply of Russian gas from 9 to 32 million cubic meters per day. 

Central Asia’s role as a sponge for excess Russian supply is only likely to increase as Europe kicks its addiction, with Ukraine set to close the final westbound gas pipeline in January 2025. 

This has raised fears in some quarters of the political consequences of purchasing gas from Russia. 

“Every year in winter, the most discussed issue in society and on social media is gas and heating,” said Safari. “Our evolution from a gas exporter to an importer worries many. Russia has always tried to influence and control energy policy and stability in the region. 

“Right now, when Russia has nowhere to put its gas and really needs money for the war in Ukraine, they want to do business. But politics is a fickle thing. If Russia’s doctrine changes, the situation may change 180 degrees.”

Down But Not Out

It’s not only natural resources that have been redirected toward Central Asia since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Huge amounts of Russian finance and human capital have also been channeled into these former Soviet states. 

Last year, partly for want of other destinations after Western flight and visa restrictions, over 700,000 Russian tourists visited the republic. The number of direct flights between Russia and Uzbekistan has now reached 300 per week, while the Tashkent-Moscow rail route, suspended in 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic, reopened in September this year. 

Meanwhile Russian businesses, from Yandex to Beeline, dominate key sectors of the Uzbek economy. Tashkent has begun deepening collaboration with the EAEU’s Eurasian Development Bank, and Uzbekistan, like other Central Asian states, has benefitted from acting as a backdoor trade route into Russia to avoid sanctions. 

Like every other state in the region, Uzbekistan is hedging its bets on the outcome of the Ukraine war while maximizing opportunities elsewhere. Key to this could be Uzbekistan’s accession to the World Trade Organization (WTO). 

Tashkent began the application process three decades ago, but has only recently started undertaking the reforms that are necessary for membership. Mirziyoyev signed a decree on June 3 detailing the measures that Uzbekistan was planning to take in order to ensure WTO accession by 2026. These ranged from bringing customs duties in line with WTO standards to significantly liberalizing Uzbekistan’s media environment. 

In October he went further, stressing the need to accelerate these reforms.

Whether WTO membership alone presents a long-term strategy for keeping the Russian wolf from the door is another issue entirely, but it is certainly viewed as the priority in Tashkent. For now, EAEU membership is off the table, and that in itself is viewed as an achievement by some. 

As Safari put it, “We must understand how difficult it is to achieve this refusal in the conditions of such a tough and intrusive partner.”

Komil Allamjonov, the former deputy head of the Presidential Administration and previously head of the Information Policy Department in Uzbekistan’s Presidential Administration, survived an assassination attempt on October 26. According to Uzbekistan’s General Prosecutor’s Office, two unidentified individuals fired multiple gunshots at a Range Rover driven by a civilian identified only as S.S. (the prosecutor’s office has not disclosed his identity) on Ifor Street in Tashkent’s Kibray District at around 1:40 a.m. Allamjonov was reportedly in the vehicle at the time. The attackers fled the scene immediately, and no one was injured.

The incident took place less than a month after Allamjonov abruptly left his post in the administration, a post he had served in for a little over a year. Over the past few years, Allamjonov worked closely with Saida Mirziyoyeva, the daughter of President Shavkat Mirziyoyev and since August 2023 first assistant to the president (the highest position in the administration after the head of state). No official statement has been provided regarding the reason for Allamjonov’s departure or any new appointment.

Who is Allamjonov?

Allamjonov is no ordinary public figure. He is considered the most influential person in Uzbekistan’s media space. Born in 1984, he was a businessman before entering politics. Although he held different positions, his career as a politician took off after the government change in 2016. 

In 2017, Allamjonov was appointed a deputy head in the Administration of the President of the Republic of Uzbekistan, taking up the post of press secretary. A year later, he took on the role of acting director-general at the Uzbek Agency for Press and Information in November 2018. The agency was restructured into the Agency for Information and Mass Communications under the Presidential Administration in February 2019 and two months later, Mirziyoyeva joined as his deputy. The two left their posts in 2020 to “continue working in the non-governmental sector.” Two days later, Allamjonov became a chairman of the board of trustees of the Public Foundation for the Support and Development of National Mass Media and Mirziyoyeva again took the role of his deputy.

Allamjonov has often faced criticism and accusations of being involved in monopolistic practices and conflicts of interest due to his activities in the business world. When he was appointed as the deputy head of the Information Policy Department of the Presidential Administration in July 2022, he announced his departure from the business sector. “As of today, I am no longer a businessman,” he wrote in his Telegram channel, citing his intention to avoid any potential conflict of interest as a reason. A year later, in August, 2023, he became the head of the Information Policy Department of the Presidential Administration. 

Why Is It Important?

The assassination attempt is unlikely to have been carried out by ordinary citizens, at least not without support from someone with connections. Firearm possession is illegal in Uzbekistan, and acquiring a gun is nearly impossible unless it is issued through a workplace, such as the police force or army. A limited range of weapons are allowed for civilian possession in Uzbekistan: either a hunting weapon such as a rifle with a smooth barrel, sport weapons, or self-defense weapons like gas cylinders or electroshock devices. The General Prosecutor’s Office has not disclosed the type of firearm used in the attack, though Ozodlik reports that the assailants fired five shots from a Makarov pistol. Civilian firearms are required to be single-shot only and must have a magazine capacity limited to ten bullets. 

Homicide in general is relatively uncommon in Uzbekistan. The trend is evident in the declining number of registered crimes. The number of people arrested for murder and attempted murder dropped significantly from 883 in 2007 to 384 in 2023, despite the country’s population growing from 28 million in 2010 to 37 million in 2024. 

The most high profile assassination attempt was carried out in 1999 against the first president of the country, Islam Karimov. Five car bomb explosions took 16 lives (some estimates say 12) and injured over 100 others. Tashkent sentenced 11 suspects to death and 120 others to lengthy prison terms in connection with the bombings. The primary suspicion was directed toward the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan, leading Tashkent to strengthen its stance against opposition groups and tighten regulations on religious practices in public places. 

A decade later, another assassination attempt unfolded in Tashkent, this time targeting prominent imam Anvar qori Tursunov. On July 31, 2009, three unidentified assailants stabbed the imam nine times right in front of his home before fleeing the scene. Nearly 70 individuals were arrested during the investigation, and the trial was conducted behind closed doors. Neither the identity of the attackers nor the motives behind the crime was ever disclosed. Tursunov survived and served another 10 years as the chief imam-khatib of Tashkent, even assisting in preparing Karimov’s body for burial in 2016.

Currently, one suspect in the attack on Allamjonov has been arrested. But the General Prosecutor’s Office has not disclosed his identity or any further relevant information about the attack.

“Although I began praying in sixth grade, it wasn’t until 2020 that I started wearing hijab,” Malika, a 20-year-old university student from Fergana who asked not to use her real name, told The Diplomat. “This led to unexpected pressure from my school community as everyone, including the teachers I was close with, began telling me to take my hijab off.”

“Once the school principal confronted me in front of everyone, harshly insisting that I stop wearing hijab and accused me of using it as a form of self-advertisement.”

To Malika’s relief, the nationwide COVID-19 lockdown mandated that everyone stay at home, allowing her to graduate in peace.

Central Asia’s war on hijab has persisted for years, and Malika’s story echoes the experiences shared by countless women who face similar struggles across the region. In our previous work for The Beet, we unpacked the political dynamics of the hijab ban in Central Asia, tracing its historical roots and policy implications. Now, we turn our attention to the real-world consequences on women’s lives, delving into the costs of state-imposed restrictions on religious expression.

As the region has aggressively promoted a secular, traditional dress code, Muslim  women have become the unintended victims of new regulations. Control over their attire is enforced largely through educational institutions, where young women study and work. 

“Banning or restricting hijab in the countries of the region falls within the overall framework of combating ‘wrong’ Islam as a central narrative in countering so-called religious extremism,” said Anastassiya Reshetnyak, Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism (P/CVE) consultant and a research fellow at Paperlab Research Center, in an interview with The Diplomat.

“In Kazakhstan, for example, women who wear the hijab are prevented from entering the civil service, and girls [wearing hijab] are prevented from attending school. Negative attitudes towards the wearing of the hijab are spread in society (including by civil servants), which leads to the alienation and disconnection of women and girls from the wider society and even at the community level.”

Astana’s decision to ban hijab for both students and teachers last year, in the name of preserving secular values, sparked intense debate. Despite Kazakhstan’s secular identity, around 70 percent of its population profess Islam. For girls from committed religious families, the alternative to conforming is often to remain uneducated.

The hijab ban “can contribute to the radicalization of both women and their communities,” Reshetnyak continued. “Restrictions on certain types of work can lead to ‘gray’ and ‘black’ employment – in fact, to even greater alienation from the state and society, and to closure from their community. The same applies to the prohibition of hijab in schools: girls are either transferred to homeschooling and lose contact with their peers and ‘secular’ teachers, or they drop out of school; alternatively, they go to countries where they can attend classes in hijab (e.g. Turkey).”

On July 26, the Council of Ulema of Tajikistan issued a fatwa, a legal ruling on a point of Islamic law, advising women against wearing “tight, black or see-through clothing.” Noting that the black color is not mandated by the Hanafi Islamic legal framework, the fatwa marked that “traditional national clothing of Tajik mothers and sisters, consisting of a scarf, dress, and trousers, fully meets the requirements” of the Islamic school of jurisprudence followed by majority of Muslims in the country. 

Although the fatwa does not specify what is meant by “black clothing,” it is likely referring to black abayas, traditionally worn in Arab Muslim societies. These garments gained prominence in Central Asia only after the collapse of the Soviet Union, as people sought to reconnect with their Islamic heritage. The influx of religious literature, scholars, and missionaries from the Middle East, as well as the exposure of Central Asians to global Islamic practices through travel and social media platforms, contributed to the growing popularity of black abayas among women. However, Central Asian governments often view them as a foreign influence and a potential symbol of political or radical Islam.

Ironically, such restrictions on religious attire bolstered the recruitment tactics of extremist groups in Central Asia. The connection “was particularly evident in [Islamic State] recruitment, when secular authorities in the region were branded as kafirs (infidels), including for their stance on the appearance of believers. At various points, not only hijabs but also, for example, men’s beards were criticized and banned,” explained Resehtnyak. 

For men, adhering to Islamic dress requirements is relatively straightforward, as their awrah (nakedness), the part of the body that must be covered, is generally limited to the area between the navel and the knees. In contrast, women’s hijab covers them from head to toe, typically allowing only the face, hands, and feet to remain visible. This disparity means men encounter fewer social or practical barriers in maintaining religious dress while navigating everyday life.

“Recruiters [for extremist groups] appealed to the fact that believers in these countries could not properly practice their religion and remain faithful Muslims under severe restrictions,” Resehtnyak said. “This argument persists in one form or another to this day – for example, it is used in Taliban propaganda to create a positive image of Afghanistan under their control.”

The Council of Ulema’s fatwa was published a month after Dushanbe had passed a law banning the “import, sale, promotion, and use of clothing alien to the national culture,” essentially outlawing hijab. This ban is just another step taken by Dushanbe to control women’s attire. Back in 2007, Tajikistan’s Ministry of Education issued a directive banning both the hijab and miniskirts for school and university students. A decade later, in 2018, the Ministry of Culture extended this approach by promoting long skirts not only for university students but for all women. Their “Recommendations for Wearing Clothes in Tajikistan” advised against miniskirts, translucent dresses, deep necklines, crop tops, black clothing, and black scarves, indirectly targeting black Islamic full-coverage attire. 

At the time, local experts criticized the guidelines as another attempt by the authorities to suppress the wearing of hijabs and satr, a traditional headscarf.

In the heated debate over the hijab, both supporters and opponents often overlook a crucial point – each individual woman’s right to choose what she wears – leaving women’s voices sidelined in the very issue that most affects them.

Uzbekistan lifted its de facto ban on hijab for students in 2021, but with a condition: the head covering should either be a ro’mol, a national headscarf tied behind the neck, or a do’ppi, a national cap. “Taking into account the appeals of many parents and our national values, as an exception for our girls, it is allowed to wear a national headscarf (wrapped on the back of the head) and a do’ppi in school in white and light colors” said Uzbekistan’s Minister of Public Education Sherzod Shermatov. 

“I am currently married and a senior student at a university in Tashkent,” Malika recounted. “To qualify for graduation, I have to undergo an internship at a public school. A friend of mine and I were about to sign a contract with one school when the principal told us it is only possible if we take off our hijab or tie it behind. After that, we went to six more schools and received the same answer.”

Tashkent also abolished the administrative liability for wearing “prayer clothes” in public places in 2021 when revising the law “On Freedom of Conscience and Religious Organizations.” The ban was lifted due to the absence of a clear legal definition of “prayer clothes.” Although Article 184.1 of the Administrative Code, which imposed penalties for wearing such attire except for religious officials, was rendered ineffective immediately, it took another two years for the provision to be formally removed.

However, covering one’s face in public places to the extent that it hinders identification is still banned (Article 184.4). Exceptions are made for wearing helmets, medical masks, and similar gear deemed necessary. Non-compliance with this provision results in a fine ranging from $250 to $400.

The law on measures to provide students of state general secondary education institutions with a modern school uniform from August 15, 2018 sets a certain norm for outfits, obligating that students “must walk inside the building of the educational institution without headgear.” This is explained by the “secular character of the general secondary education,” so wearing “elements that reflect belonging to different religions and denominations, as well as different subcultures (hijab, kipa, kashaya, cross etc.)” are not allowed.

“In the beginning of this school year, girls with hijabs were gathered and forced to remove their [hijab],” Said, whose sister is a senior student at general secondary school No. 32 of Namangan district, Namangan, told The Diplomat. Fearing for his sister’s safety, he asked The Diplomat not to disclose their identities. “The principal told them that they can not study at this school otherwise and they should transfer. Now she wears her scarf tied on the back of her head.”

Religious leaders of Central Asia do their best to appease the secular government while also commanding ordinary Muslims to follow Shariah, or Islamic law. Traditional Central Asian attire for women – headscarves, long dresses, and trousers adorned with vibrant colors and patterns – can meet Shariah requirements. However, governments mandating a specific clothing style as part of a broader effort to enforce a national identity strips pious women of their right to choose and undermines their bodily autonomy.

“Restricting freedoms is one of the worst tactics in the long-term prevention of violent extremism,” insisted Reshetnyak. “The logic of proponents of the hijab ban is to homogenize society by removing the manifestation and representation of ‘alien’ cultural traits related to the practice of Islam. However, it has long been proven that there is no direct correlation between religious knowledge and joining violent extremist organizations.”

“At the same time, one of the key characteristics of violent manifestations in Central Asia is a strong focus on the state and its institutions (especially the security forces). A common characteristic of those who join violent extremist organizations is a sense of injustice and lack of inclusion in public processes,” Reshetnyak continued. In order to address that root cause, “it is necessary, on the contrary, to create conditions that ensure the inclusion of all groups in public institutions. It is necessary to increase the representation of vulnerable groups, to speak openly about problems, to create a pluralistic society. In authoritarian states, especially when security forces are responsible for preventing and countering violent extremism, such methods are not central.”

“It is a pity that hijabi girls in the education system are treated as if they are terrorists,” said Malika expressing her frustration. “If I did not have to, I would not even go to the doorsteps of a school. We once dreamed of working at public schools, but now we just hate it. Working in a place where freedom and justice is not present is like humiliating yourself and your knowledge!”