The recent C5+1 summit demonstrated Washington’s interest in Central Asia, notably with investments in critical minerals, aviation, and auto parts, as well as Kazakhstan joining the Abraham Accords. What were the key achievements of the summit? 

The outcomes of the C5+1 summit can be understood not only in terms of the specific agreements announced, but also in how the United States and the Central Asian states are redefining the meaning of partnership at a moment of shifting geopolitical constraints. In that sense, the summit produced developments in three interconnected domains: concrete economic commitments, political signaling, and the gradual institutionalization of the platform itself.

The first domain concerns the deals. The critical minerals package with Kazakhstan is the most visible outcome, not simply because of its scale, roughly 1.1 billion dollars, but because of what it represents: an effort to reshape supply chains that have historically been dominated by China for processing and by Russia for transit. The agreement is therefore not only an investment decision; it is part of a broader attempt to loosen structural dependencies that have long constrained Central Asian states’ economic autonomy. The same applies to the MoUs in aviation and auto-parts manufacturing. While modest in comparison, they signal a shift away from viewing Central Asia primarily as a commodity exporter. For countries in the region, which have struggled to diversify their economies since independence, the gesture holds some significance.

The second domain is political framing. High-level engagement from Washington serves a symbolic purpose in a region where the United States has often been perceived as episodic or reactive. The summit conveyed that Central Asia now figures more prominently in U.S. strategic thinking, though that message will only fully resonate if it is followed by sustained presidential-level attention and materialization of this summit’s many declarations of intent. Kazakhstan’s decision to join the Abraham Accords should also be read in this context. It indicates Astana’s willingness to anchor part of its diplomacy in U.S.-supported architectures, alongside its equally active participation in organizations led by Russia or China. Like many regional initiatives, this move is less about the Middle East per se and more about demonstrating foreign-policy diversification at a time when geopolitical alignments are hardening.

The joint statement’s emphasis on sovereignty, territorial integrity, and diversified trade routes reflects a similar dynamic. No country was named, but the references are clear: Russia’s war in Ukraine and China’s dominant position in regional infrastructure have created external pressures that Central Asian governments can no longer ignore. Affirming sovereignty in this context becomes a way for these states to articulate boundaries vis-à-vis their two largest neighbors without doing so confrontationally.

The final domain is the evolution of formats. What the summit effectively did was elevate the C5+1 from an intermittent dialogue to a more structured mechanism. Leaders-level meetings, which used to be the exception, now appear to be the new baseline, and sectoral working groups on energy, connectivity, climate, and business were given more concrete mandates. For the Central Asian governments, this institutionalization signals that the United States does not want to be viewed as a distant partner but as one of the actors shaping their external relations, alongside Russia, China, the EU, Turkey, and the Gulf states.

Taken together, the summit’s significance lies not only in the agreements signed but also in the United States’ broader efforts to reposition itself within the region’s strategic landscape. It reflects Washington’s intention to increase its presence by delivering tangible economic benefits and expanding trade with the region.

As American, Russian, and Chinese interests increasingly overlap in Central Asia, how are Central Asian nations navigating this dynamic, and how can they leverage this competition to achieve their goals?

Central Asian states have been navigating the intersection of American, Russian, and Chinese interests for far longer than is sometimes acknowledged, and in recent years they have done so with increasing clarity about their own priorities. The prevailing image of Central Asia as a passive arena for great-power rivalry obscures the extent to which these governments actively shape the terms of external engagement. They do not perceive themselves as trapped in a geopolitical contest; rather, they use competing external demands to expand their own room for maneuver.

This strategic navigation unfolds across three interlinked domains: the economic, the security, and the political.

In the economic sphere, Russian influence has historically been dominant, and it remains substantial even after the invasion of Ukraine and the imposition of Western sanctions. Yet this dominance has been progressively offset by China’s expansive economic presence, especially through the Belt and Road Initiative. China’s role is now deeply institutionalized, though increasingly accompanied by unease regarding debt exposure, asymmetric bargaining power, and the opacity of Chinese projects. These concerns do not diminish Beijing’s weight, but they do help explain why Central Asian governments have simultaneously sought to broaden their economic partnerships toward the United States, the European Union, the Gulf states, Turkey, and parts of South and Southeast Asia. The result is not a linear shift from Russia to China, but a deliberate diversification strategy aimed at preventing any single external actor from monopolizing influence.

The security dimension reveals a similar pattern of incremental diversification. Russia has long been the foundation of regional security structures, both through institutions such as the CSTO and through bilateral military ties. But beneath this formal architecture, Central Asian states have gradually cultivated alternative partnerships. Cooperation with NATO, though limited, has introduced new forms of engagement; Turkey and Israel have emerged as important suppliers of military technology and training. Russia’s influence, therefore, remains significant, but it is no longer exclusive. The diversification is subtle rather than confrontational, yet it shows an underlying desire to avoid overreliance on Moscow at a time when Russia’s own security posture has become increasingly unpredictable.

The political realm is more complex, shaped by ideological affinities as well as strategic calculations. Many Central Asian elites are deeply comfortable with the governance models exemplified by Russia and China: strong executives, constrained political competition, and state-led development. They have benefited from the political solidarity that both Moscow and Beijing routinely extend to authoritarian partners. Yet this affinity does not translate systematically into automatic alignment. The war in Ukraine illustrates this: no Central Asian government recognized Russia’s annexations, an indication that even close political partners reject the erosion of state sovereignty when it directly threatens their own long-term security.

At the same time, their resistance is highly situational. When costs are lower or interests are less directly engaged, political distancing becomes more muted. The abstention of all Central Asian states (with Turkmenistan absent from the session) in the 10 December 2025 UN vote condemning Russia’s abduction of roughly 20,000 Ukrainian children reflects this dynamic and, for these countries, amounts to acquiescing in one of the most flagrant crimes against humanity of our time. So does their cautious and often subdued response to China’s mass detention of Uyghurs, Kazakhs, and Kyrgyz in the so-called “reeducation” camps in Xinjiang. These reactions reveal the limits of how far regional governments are prepared to go in challenging the preferences of their most powerful neighbors.

Taken together, these dynamics do not suggest that Central Asian states are “free” from Russian or Chinese influence. They operate within structural constraints that cannot simply be wished away. But neither are they geopolitical bystanders. Their foreign policies reflect an increasingly sophisticated effort to balance major powers, extract economic and political benefits, and avoid the emergence of dominant external patrons. What is commonly described as “multi-vector diplomacy” is therefore not a rhetorical device; it is the core strategic principle guiding each government’s engagement with the outside world.

In concrete terms, are specific governments in Central Asia navigating this geopolitical environment more successfully than others?

Differences in how Central Asian governments navigate the current geopolitical landscape stem from a combination of structural constraints and domestic capabilities. Three variables are especially important: geography, economic capacity, and social vulnerability. Taken together, they help explain why some states are able to act with greater autonomy than others.

Geography is the most immediate constraint. The region lies between two powerful authoritarian neighbors whose political expectations and security sensitivities are ever-present. For countries that share borders with Russia or China (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan), the prospect of retaliation is not abstract. Kazakhstan offers the clearest illustration: since 2022, fears of Russian pressure or even aggression have grown markedly, reinforced by the rhetoric of Russian nationalists who question Kazakhstan’s statehood. Border proximity heightens exposure, and that exposure shapes the range of feasible foreign-policy choices.

Uzbekistan occupies a different position. It does not border either Russia or China, and that geographic buffer has historically afforded it greater room to define an independent posture. Tashkent has limited its participation in Russian- and Chinese-led institutions, withdrawn from the CSTO, and pursued a wider set of Western partnerships, especially under President Mirziyoyev. Geography does not determine policy, but it conditions the risks associated with defying powerful neighbors.

Economic capacity forms the second variable. States with larger and more diversified economies, such as Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, possess greater leverage to sustain multi-vector diplomacy. They can absorb external pressure more effectively and can afford to diversify trade routes, investment sources, and technological partners. By contrast, countries with limited economic resources, such as Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, operate under tighter constraints. Their economic fragility forces them to rely heavily on external financing, above all from Russia and China. This dependence limits their ability to resist political demands or pursue alternative alignments.

Social vulnerability further narrows the choices of the weaker states. Tajikistan is emblematic here. The government is acutely aware that its internal stability rests on delicate foundations: food and energy insecurity, limited employment opportunities, and chronic fiscal fragility. Several hundred thousand Tajik citizens work in Russia each year, and remittances constitute one of the pillars of the economy. Moscow understands the leverage this creates. Any tightening of migration controls would translate immediately into economic hardship and, potentially, social unrest. President Rahmon must therefore calibrate his foreign policy with an eye not only to geopolitics but also to the domestic consequences of displeasing Russia.

In this sense, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan are in a comparatively more advantageous position. Despite their own economic and social challenges, they benefit from larger domestic markets and greater industrial and demographic potential. These factors provide them with broader room to maneuver amid competing external pressures, an advantage that Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, both significantly weaker, do not share.

Do you expect the competition between Russia and China over respective Central Asian interests to affect Sino-Russian relations and their “no limits partnership?” Have there been significant tensions between the two countries over the region so far, and if not, how has this been avoided given China’s ascendant influence in a region previously under the Kremlin’s rule during Soviet times?

I do not expect competition in Central Asia to destabilize the Sino-Russian “no limits partnership” in any fundamental way. Friction exists, and has existed for some time, but both governments have compelling strategic reasons to prevent these tensions from escalating. What emerges instead is a pattern of managed rivalry, i.e., real competition contained within a broader framework of shared interests.

If we look historically, the first signs of divergence appeared in the energy sector. In the 2000s and early 2010s, both Moscow and Beijing sought privileged access to Central Asian gas, and this produced genuine rivalry. China’s eventual success in securing pipeline routes from Turkmenistan was an early indication that the balance of influence was beginning to shift. The launch of the Belt and Road Initiative amplified Russian anxieties: for Moscow, BRI signaled Beijing’s intention to design the region’s infrastructure architecture, something Russia had long regarded as central to its own sphere of influence.

Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, this asymmetry has only deepened. China has expanded its footprint in trade, financing, logistics, and regional diplomacy precisely as Russia has become more isolated internationally and more consumed by its war effort. The result is a structural rebalancing in China’s favor. Yet even as these shifts play out, the two countries have avoided open confrontation in Central Asia.

One reason is that an implicit division of labor has emerged. Russia remains the dominant security actor and cultural-linguistic reference point. The CSTO reinforces its role as the primary security guarantor, and Central Asian labor migration to Russia embeds deep socioeconomic interdependence. China, meanwhile, has become the region’s leading economic force: financing infrastructure, underwriting connectivity, and providing the loans that many governments rely on. This functional differentiation allows each to advance its interests without directly threatening the other’s core domain.

But beyond this pragmatic distribution of roles, Russia and China share two foundational strategic interests in Central Asia. First, both want to constrain Western influence in the region. The presence of the United States or the EU as significant strategic actors would complicate their ability to shape outcomes. Second, both regard regional stability as essential, and stability, in their view, is closely tied to the persistence of strong, centralized, and authoritarian governments. Democratization is seen as a threat, not only to their preferred regional order but also to their own domestic legitimacy. In that sense, supporting like-minded regimes is part of their broader project of regime security.

Because these shared objectives are so central, Central Asia does not become the kind of arena over which they would contemplate open confrontation. The stakes simply do not justify it, especially when both have far more consequential geopolitical challenges elsewhere, in Europe for Russia, and in the Indo-Pacific for China.

In short, while competition in Central Asia is real and China has become the ascendant power in the region, neither Beijing nor Moscow is willing to let this rivalry jeopardize their broader partnership. Their alignment is anchored in deeper structural interests that far outweigh the regional frictions. Central Asia matters to both, but not enough to fight over, and certainly not enough to risk the strategic convergence they view as essential in an era of heightened confrontation with the West.

Given the rise of geopolitical tensions creating uncertainty over key trade routes, such as dependency on Russia’s Northern Corridor or attacks in the Red Sea, what is the future of Central Asia’s Middle Corridor, the Trans-Caspian International Transport Route?

The future of the Middle Corridor needs to be understood against the backdrop of a global trading system in which traditional routes have become politically and strategically fragile. The reduced reliability of Russia’s Northern Corridor following sanctions, combined with the vulnerability of maritime shipping demonstrated by attacks in the Red Sea, has prompted governments and firms to reassess their logistical dependencies. In this context, the Middle Corridor has emerged as a potential alternative, not because it is new, but because its strategic relevance has been reshaped by geopolitical uncertainty.

There is no doubt that the corridor has developed real momentum. Over the past two years, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Türkiye have intensified efforts to upgrade rail infrastructure, streamline customs procedures, and expand port capacity on the Caspian. External actors such as the EU, the United States, and international financial institutions have provided political backing and technical support. For many of these partners, the Middle Corridor is not merely a logistical project but a geopolitical one: a way to diversify Eurasian connectivity away from Russia and, to a lesser extent, reduce exposure to Chinese-dominated infrastructure.

Yet the corridor’s future must be assessed with clear-eyed realism. Its structural constraints are significant. The route is inherently multimodal: goods must be unloaded and reloaded multiple times, including across two maritime segments, which adds cost, complexity, and time. Bottlenecks remain at Caspian ports and along the Georgian rail network. Coordination among corridor states is uneven, regulatory standards diverge, and attempts to harmonize procedures have advanced slowly. While political enthusiasm is high, private sector actors, the ones who ultimately determine commercial viability, continue to express reservations regarding reliability and price competitiveness.

It is also important to situate the Middle Corridor within the broader hierarchy of global trade. Maritime shipping will continue to handle the overwhelming majority of global freight, despite periodic disruptions. Even when routes through the Red Sea are compromised, and ships must divert around the Cape of Good Hope, maritime transport remains far cheaper and more scalable than any overland connection. No Eurasian land corridor, whether northern, southern, or trans-Caspian, is positioned to displace maritime flows. Their function is complementary: to provide redundancy, resilience, and targeted alternatives for specific sectors.

The debate surrounding the Trans-Caspian Gas Pipeline, often invoked as a way to enhance the corridor’s geopolitical weight, illustrates these constraints. The project has remained stalled for more than two decades because Russia and Iran oppose it, and neither shows any sign of altering its stance. Even if political resistance were to lessen, the financial and environmental context has shifted dramatically. Large fossil-fuel infrastructure is increasingly excluded from Western financing frameworks, and gas no longer qualifies as a future-oriented asset in many sustainability standards. Moreover, Turkmenistan’s governance environment, marked by unpredictability, opacity, and systemic corruption, poses substantial risks that would deter most international investors.

For these reasons, the Middle Corridor’s likely trajectory is one of gradual, steady consolidation rather than dramatic transformation. It is becoming a meaningful component of Eurasia’s connectivity landscape, particularly for Central Asian states seeking to diversify their partnerships and reduce their exposure to external shocks. But it will remain a supplementary route, shaped by the extent to which its member states sustain investment, improve regulatory harmonization, and coordinate politically. The Middle Corridor’s promise lies less in its ability to replace existing routes than in its capacity to offer strategic breathing space to countries that have long lacked it.

All five Central Asian countries are autocracies and generally have poor human rights records. How has this affected the United States’ approach to the region under the current and past Administrations?

All five Central Asian states are authoritarian, and their human rights records remain very deeply troubling. But to understand how this shapes U.S. policy, one must look at continuity rather than rupture. Successive American administrations have grappled with the same structural dilemma: how to reconcile normative commitments with strategic imperatives in a region where security, great-power rivalry, and energy politics consistently overshadow democratic concerns. What changes from one administration to another is not the basic framework, but the relative weight assigned to values versus interests.

Across administrations, three priorities have anchored U.S. engagement. The first is security, initially driven by Afghanistan and counterterrorism, later by broader concerns about regional stability. The second is great-power competition, first with Russia and increasingly with China, a dynamic that has intensified since the war in Ukraine. The third is energy and connectivity, whether in the form of pipeline routes, transport corridors, or, more recently, critical minerals. These constants shape the boundaries within which human rights issues can be raised.

Normative commitments do appear in U.S. strategy documents; the 2019–2025 Strategy for Central Asia is explicit about democracy, rule of law, and support for civil society. But in practice, these goals have repeatedly been subordinated to hard-security and geopolitical considerations. The tension between rhetoric and implementation is not an accidental inconsistency; it reflects the hierarchy of interests that has guided U.S. policy for decades.

The Biden administration offered a clear example of this dynamic. It adopted strong rhetorical commitments to democracy and human rights, and senior officials regularly raised these issues in C5+1 dialogues and during regional visits. Engagement with independent NGOs was visible and symbolically important. Yet the administration did not condition deeper cooperation on measurable reforms. Human rights organizations criticized this gap between normative language and limited leverage. What emerged was a pattern familiar in other regions as well: moral emphasis without the coercive tools to make it consequential.

The current Trump administration represents a sharper shift in tone, though not a radical departure in substance. Recent high-level engagements have been framed overwhelmingly around economic opportunity: critical minerals, supply chains, trade, and connectivity. Human rights concerns have been relegated to closed-door diplomacy or marginal assistance instruments. This transactional approach is deeply attractive to Central Asian governments: it promises economic engagement without political scrutiny. But it also widens the long-standing disconnect between U.S. discourse on values and U.S. behavior on the ground.

These outcomes are not surprising. Washington’s capacity to influence domestic political trajectories in Central Asia has always been limited. Attempts to raise human rights issues, whether bilaterally, through the OSCE, or via quieter diplomatic channels, have produced minimal results. Authoritarian consolidation in the region continues, often under the guise of managed liberalization or technocratic modernization. And in a geopolitical context where the United States is competing simultaneously with Russia and China, Washington has become even more cautious about pushing regimes toward reforms that could jeopardize cooperation on security or economic matters.

The central point, therefore, is that U.S. policy toward Central Asia has long rested on a pragmatic balancing act. Human rights remain part of the discourse, but they occupy a secondary tier. The strategic environment has only reinforced this hierarchy: the priority now is to secure partnerships, diversify supply chains, and limit Chinese influence. Normative commitments survive in the language of official statements, but they rarely determine the course of engagement. The United States maintains a vocabulary of values, but operates primarily according to interests, a pattern that has endured across administrations and is likely to continue.