By Suren Sargsyan 

The U.S.–Iran conflict, along with repeated failed negotiations, shows no clear path to resolution, and its future trajectory, consequences, and broader implications remain uncertain. Although a substantial body of research and commentary seeks to forecast developments in the Middle East, there is limited analysis of how this conflict may affect the South Caucasus, particularly in terms of future U.S. engagement in the region and the prospects of the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity (TRIPP) project. From Tehran’s perspective, TRIPP may constitute a legitimate target, as it conflicts directly with Iranian interests. It is therefore essential to assess the risks that the Iran–U.S./Israel conflict poses to the TRIPP project.

BACKGROUND:

A defining feature of the Trump administration, distinguishing it from its predecessors, is a marked increase in U.S. engagement with the South Caucasus. This was demonstrated by the approval of the TRIPP project and the announcement of peace between Armenia and Azerbaijan under U.S. mediation. However, U.S. involvement in the region clearly extends beyond relations with Armenia and Azerbaijan alone.

The implementation of TRIPP also aligns with broader U.S. regional interests, particularly in terms of isolating Iran. Currently, Azerbaijan’s shortest direct land connection to its exclave, Nakhichevan, runs through Iranian territory. If implemented, TRIPP would enable Azerbaijan to reduce its reliance on Iran by providing an alternative route. Such a development would also diminish Iran’s importance for Armenia, making Yerevan less dependent on the Iran–Armenia border, especially if accompanied by substantive progress in Armenia–Turkey relations, a goal the U.S. has supported since the George H. W. Bush administration.

Therefore, TRIPP should not be understood merely as a mechanism for regulating Armenian–Azerbaijani relations through the establishment of direct connectivity between the two states. Rather, it should be viewed as a broader geopolitical project, which will among other outcomes diminish the strategic significance of Iran for both Armenia and Azerbaijan, particularly by reducing their reliance on shared borders and transit routes through Iranian territory.

IMPLICATIONS:

Since the outbreak of the war, the United States and Israel have targeted not only Iranian military assets but also infrastructure of major strategic importance. Iran has incurred substantial losses, including damage to its naval capabilities, the elimination of senior political and military figures, and significant economic disruption. The closure of the Strait of Hormuz has further imposed considerable costs on the Iranian economy. In response, Iran has launched missile strikes not only against Israel but also against U.S. military bases within its operational range, despite these bases being located on the sovereign territory of states that have not formally joined the anti-Iran coalition.

Moreover, Iran has expanded its targeting beyond U.S. military installations in neighboring states to include economic infrastructure linked, directly or indirectly, to U.S. interests. From Iran’s perspective, there appear to be few meaningful geographical constraints. Rather, its strategy is to impose maximum costs not only through direct confrontation but also by targeting U.S.-associated economic projects and interests across the region and its immediate periphery. 

From this perspective, the TRIPP project could also emerge as a potential target. As a major infrastructure initiative involving significant U.S. investment and the presence of U.S. security personnel, it carries clear strategic implications. Therefore, if tensions persist over an extended period and the conflict’s geographical scope expands, it cannot be excluded that this transportation corridor may eventually be targeted by Iran, despite Tehran’s relatively cooperative relations with Armenia.

This risk is underscored by reports of Iranian drones appearing over Azerbaijani territory, developments that have already provoked strong reactions. Although Iran denied these allegations, the incident nevertheless generated significant strain in bilateral relations and may be interpreted as a signal. There is no guarantee that Iran would refrain from deploying drones in the area, conducting limited troop movements, or undertaking other preventive or deterrent measures against the TRIPP project. Such a scenario becomes more plausible if tensions persist, hostilities intensify, and U.S. forces begin targeting Iranian infrastructure that has thus far remained largely intact, including power grids, transportation networks, and other critical facilities.

At the same time, it should be noted that there is currently no official information regarding the status of the project’s construction, at least on Armenian territory, where it is reportedly financed by the U.S. government. Although Armenia’s Foreign Minister has indicated that the intensity of Armenian–U.S. contacts concerning the project has not diminished, he has not addressed the timeline for the implementation of construction activities.

Even a single strike on this corridor would likely make potential investors and commercial actors significantly more cautious about using it for cargo transportation or committing to further infrastructure investments, given the associated security risks. Although detailed data on the expenditures of Armenia and Azerbaijan, along with U.S. contributions, remain unavailable, it is evident that the project entails substantial costs for both countries, even if only part of the planned infrastructure has been completed to date.

Moreover, if the war does not produce a significant systemic transformation in Iran’s regime, an outcome that currently appears unlikely, the project may remain a long-term potential target for Tehran, as it represents a form of U.S. presence in close proximity to the Iranian border. Under such conditions, it would be difficult for Armenia and Azerbaijan to advance the U.S.-mediated peace agenda in the absence of the project’s implementation, as the failure of one of its key components would raise uncertainty about the viability of the broader framework.

CONCLUSIONS:

At present, it is difficult to determine how long the war and/or negotiations with Iran will continue or what their eventual outcome will be. Statements from the Trump administration suggest that a clear strategy or exit plan has yet to be fully articulated. Nevertheless, it is essential to consider Iran’s likely post-war approach toward U.S. economic projects in its immediate vicinity. On the one hand, if the U.S. and Iran reach a peace agreement, the significance of the TRIPP project could be fundamentally transformed, with its purpose and structure potentially redefined, possibly even allowing for Iran’s participation.

On the other hand, if tensions between the United States and Iran remain elevated even after the cessation of active hostilities, Tehran may come to view TRIPP as a legitimate target and act accordingly. In this sense, whereas the project’s future previously depended largely on U.S. policy, it is now also contingent on Iran’s strategic priorities, policy choices, and perceptions of regional dynamics.

Armenian and Azerbaijani authorities have several options to reassure Tehran that the project cannot serve as a basis for a U.S. strategic or military presence in the South Caucasus, nor be used offensively against Iran. Despite relatively stable relations with both Yerevan and Baku, Tehran may still perceive the initiative as a threat to its core strategic interests and border security. In this context, Iran could find a receptive partner in Moscow, which has also expressed skepticism toward the project. At present, however, the implementation timeline has effectively been suspended, with all stakeholders awaiting either stabilization or further escalation.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Suren Sargsyan is a PhD candidate Political Science. He holds LLM degrees from Yerevan State University, the American University of Armenia, and Tufts University Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy. He is the director of the Armenian Center for American Studies.

By Laura Linderman and Lydia Sawatsky

The catastrophic flooding that struck Dagestan and northern Azerbaijan in late March and early April 2026, the worst rainfall event the republic has seen in over a century, has done more than damage homes and infrastructure. It has exposed the limits of Russian state capacity on its southern periphery at a moment when Moscow's grip on the wider Caucasus is already loosening, and it has done so along the precise ethnic and territorial seam where the Kremlin has long kept what the Chechen analyst Inal Sherip has called the "Lezgin card" in reserve. The Kremlin's belated and rhetorically defensive response, set against a more coherent Azerbaijani posture to the same storm, will accelerate Baku's strategic recalibration away from Moscow and rearrange political loyalties along the Lezgin cross-border zone in ways Russia has no current means to repair.

BACKGROUND:

Between March 27 and April 8, an unusually intense Caspian cyclone delivered rainfall to Dagestan and northern Azerbaijan that meteorologists in both countries have described as a record-breaking event of a scale not seen in 107 years. At an April 9 meeting on the disaster, Vladimir Putin himself observed that "since meteorological observations began, in 1882, such figures have never been recorded in the region." By that point, at least seven people had been confirmed dead in Dagestan, more than 6,200 had been evacuated, around 1.5 million had been affected in some way, and over 6,000 residential buildings had been damaged or submerged. The Gedzhukh reservoir dam in Derbentsky district was overtopped on April 5, sweeping cars off the federal motorway. Sections of the Caucasus federal motorway and the North Caucasus Railway were severed, and three substations in Makhachkala (Primorskaya, Vostochnaya, and Makhachkala-110) were flooded and temporarily knocked offline. Yuri Chaika, the Presidential Plenipotentiary in the North Caucasus Federal District, put initial damage at over one billion rubles. On April 7, Putin directed the elevation of the regional emergency to federal status, with the formal designation issued by the government commission on April 9.

The same storm did not stop at the international border. In Azerbaijan, it caused fatal flooding in Baku's Yeni-Ramana settlement on March 27 and 28, the death of a man swept away by floodwaters in Gusar district on April 5, and the collapse of a house in Baku's Sabunchu district on the night of April 7. The worst-affected Azerbaijani districts (Gusar, Khachmaz, and Quba) are precisely those where the country's Lezgin minority is most heavily concentrated.

The official Russian response combined high-profile federal visits with a striking reluctance to take responsibility. Emergency Situations Minister Alexander Kurenkov, Construction Minister Irek Faizullin, and Natural Resources Minister Alexander Kozlov all traveled to Dagestan. Sergei Melikov, the head of Dagestan, nevertheless attributed the loss of life among motorists swept off the federal motorway to local "carelessness," and blamed flooding in Makhachkala on "reckless" real estate development. Residents were not persuaded. Novaya Gazeta Europa quoted a resident of Mamedkala who said that the only reason fatalities had not run into the dozens was that locals were pulling each other from the floodwaters themselves. Moscow's instinct to manage the crisis through televised commission meetings rather than visible mobilization on the ground reflects a federal centre that is overstretched, not one choosing restraint.

IMPLICATIONS:

The political significance of the floods extends beyond the disaster itself, because they have arrived at a moment when several reinforcing trends across the Caucasus are converging.

The first is the visible thinness of Russian state capacity outside the Kremlin's core priorities. In the same week Moscow elevated the Dagestan emergency, it absorbed the loss of its last functioning railway ferry across the Kerch Strait to Ukrainian drone strikes. Federal budget transfers, once routine for the North Caucasus, are now constrained by wartime spending and sanctions. Chronic unemployment, entrenched corruption, underdeveloped infrastructure, and reliance on heavy-handed security policies remain unresolved across the North Caucasus, continuing to fuel local grievances. The entire Kadyrov model of patronage-based stability rests on a federal balance sheet that is no longer flush, and the perception of decline now circulates openly in exile and opposition spaces. In late April, the former Chechen deputy prime minister Ruslan Kutaev, who now leads the Assembly of Peoples of the Caucasus, publicly claimed that "everyone knows Putin has lost" and that the great majority of Kadyrov's forces would switch sides at the right moment. The claim is contested, but its open airing is itself a marker of what exile figures now feel free to assert.

The second is the changing posture of Baku. Azerbaijan, hit by the same storm, has handled its response more conventionally. The country has its own constraints; residents in Baku's Yeni-Ramana settlement blocked a road in late March to protest inadequate drainage after rainfall killed two people near a damaged power cable, and Baku city authorities attributed some of the worst flooding to housing built without compliance with safety codes. But Baku has not attributed specific deaths to the carelessness of the dead. Through its Ministry of Emergency Situations, it has evacuated more than 450 people from flood zones, issued regular briefings, announced an expansion of its agricultural insurance regime to cover flood losses on April 8, and on April 28 President Ilham Aliyev allocated 85.9 million manat (approximately 50 million USD) from his reserve fund for flood relief. The political tone in Azerbaijani state media has been one of administrative competence and immediate action rather than recrimination.

This contrast matters because Azerbaijan has spent the past eighteen months systematically distancing itself from Moscow. Following the December 2024 destruction of Azerbaijan Airlines Flight 8243 by Russian air defenses over Grozny, and the June 2025 Yekaterinburg raids in which two ethnic Azerbaijani brothers died in Russian custody, Baku closed the Russian House, suspended Sputnik Azerbaijan, sued Russia internationally, and at the February 2026 Munich Security Conference President Aliyev publicly accused Moscow of three deliberate strikes on Azerbaijani diplomatic facilities in Kyiv. The trajectory has only accelerated. On April 25, four days after the federal emergency was declared in Dagestan, Aliyev hosted Volodymyr Zelensky in Gabala on the Ukrainian leader's first visit to the South Caucasus since the Russian invasion of Ukraine began, and the two presidents signed six bilateral agreements concentrated on defense-industrial cooperation, joint production, and the deployment of Ukrainian drone specialists in Azerbaijan. Every image of Russian inadequacy on Azerbaijan's northern doorstep validates Baku's strategic choice.

Baku's confidence rests on more than rhetoric. The early-2026 strikes on Iran have reduced the third regional power with traditional interests in the borderlands to silence born of weakness rather than restraint, and the Iran war has paralysed the International North-South Transport Corridor through banking and insurance restrictions, redirecting Eurasian cargo to the Trans-Caspian route through Azerbaijan and Kazakhstan, where demand surged 450 to 500 percent in a single week. Baku has also kept its land borders, including with Russia, closed since the COVID-19 pandemic, retaining the closure for political reasons. There are no longer direct flights from Baku to any Dagestani or Chechen city. That Azerbaijan can simultaneously absorb a war next door, manage the diversion of Eurasian transit through its own ports, and project administrative competence in a domestic flood response is itself a measure of how far the regional balance has shifted.

The third element, and the most underappreciated, is the cross-border ethnic dimension. The areas of Dagestan worst affected, Derbentsky and Magaramkentsky districts and the southern coastal belt, are the historic homeland of the Lezgin people, who number roughly 800,000 in southern Dagestan and between 180,000 and 260,000 in northern Azerbaijan. As Sherip notes, demographics heighten fragility: Dagestan alone hosts an Azerbaijani community of roughly 120,000, more than a third of the population of Derbent, while Azerbaijan hosts approximately 250,000 Lezgins and Avars, meaning any cross-border incident would almost inevitably spill across the frontier. Sergei Melikov, notably, is the first ethnic Lezgin to head Dagestan; with a Lezgin father and a Russian mother, he was born in Orekhovo-Zuyevo near Moscow and made his career in the federal security services, with no ties to Dagestan or its local elites before Putin appointed him acting head in October 2020. The Samur River that forms much of the international border is itself part of the flood story. Moscow has historically managed this frontier by holding the "Lezgin card" in reserve, quietly cultivating the Sadval movement and other Lezgin nationalist organizations in the 1990s as leverage against Baku and then letting them wither when Azerbaijani concessions were required. The flood inverts this calculation. A perception that Moscow neither protects nor compensates Lezgins on its side of the border, while Baku at least musters a coherent administrative response on its side, is the kind of fact that reshapes long-term political loyalties at the margins.

The fourth element is recent political memory. The September 2022 anti-mobilization protests in Makhachkala and Endirei were the largest in the North Caucasus and the first significant public unrest in the republic in a decade. They were touched off by the same dynamic now visible in the flood response: a federal centre that extracts more from Dagestan than it provides. The flood does not, by itself, manufacture a protest movement. But the conditions that produced 2022 (the perception of federal extraction, official contempt for local life, and the absence of meaningful Dagestani representation in Moscow's calculations) are all reinforced by what Dagestanis are seeing this month. Dagestan has been disproportionately mobilized for the war in Ukraine, has been chronically underfunded for infrastructure, and is now being told by its own governor that its dead were simply careless.

CONCLUSIONS:

The Dagestan floods of 2026 will not, in themselves, dislodge Sergei Melikov or destabilize the Russian Federation's hold on its southern periphery. Melikov's regional security apparatus remains coherent, and the federal centre has committed visible resources. What the floods will do is accelerate trends already in motion. Baku will read the contrast between the two responses as further confirmation that its strategic distancing from Moscow carries declining costs, a reading already legible in the Gabala signings of April 25. Yerevan, watching from across the South Caucasus, will draw the same conclusion: that a Russian state which cannot compensate flood victims on its own southern periphery is unlikely to provide the security guarantees it has long been asked to provide. The Lezgin cross-border community will quietly absorb the lesson that the federal centre will mobilize cameras before it mobilizes pumps. Western policymakers, who have spent the past year recalibrating their approach to the South Caucasus in the wake of the TRIPP framework and Vice President Vance's February 2026 visit to the region, will find that Moscow's regional credibility has eroded slightly further in a part of the Russian Federation where that erosion was supposed to be impossible. As AFPC Senior Fellow Mamuka Tsereteli has argued, the war in Ukraine has produced a paradox for American strategy: it has reduced Russia's long-term strategic power even as it has hardened Moscow into a more risk-tolerant adversary. The window for Western policymakers to lock in this regional shift remains open, but it will not stay open forever. The floodwaters in Dagestan will recede in the coming weeks. The political water table in the Caucasus has shifted by a measurable amount, and it is shifting in the same direction in which the rivers are running, south, away from a centre that no longer commands them.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Laura Linderman is a Senior Fellow and Director of Programs at the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute at the American Foreign Policy Council, and a nonresident fellow at the Atlantic Council's Eurasia Center. Lydia Sawatsky is a researcher at the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute.

By Eldaniz Gusseinov, Rassul Kospanov

The Pakistan–Afghanistan war has accelerated Kabul's economic reorientation toward Central Asia, a structural shift that Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan have moved most visibly to institutionalize. Less visible, but strategically consequential, is the parallel track that Russia has been constructing through the Republic of Tatarstan. Over the course of 2024 and 2025, Tatarstan has signed memoranda worth US$ 183 million with Afghan private-sector counterparts, doubled bilateral trade to US$ 51 million in the first eleven months of 2025, and prepared a trilateral Russia–Turkmenistan–Afghanistan transport corridor agreement for signature at KazanForum 2026. The pattern suggests that Moscow has delegated a substantial component of its Afghan engagement to a subnational actor as a calibrated instrument of paradiplomacy, a model that carries implications for how external powers compete for position in the emerging trans-Afghan corridor system.

BACKGROUND:

Tatarstan's suitability as Moscow's Afghan channel rests on a combination of confessional, communal, and institutional factors that no other Russian federal subject combines. The republic's Islamic identity provides a register of communication with the Taliban authorities that federal Russian institutions cannot easily replicate. 

Kazan hosts the annual Russia–Islamic World: KazanForum, which since 2023 has carried federal status and functions as one of the few large-format venues where Taliban officials are received. An additional advantage is the presence of a historically established Tatar diaspora in Afghanistan. A notable Tatar community has lived in the country since the nineteenth century, having been formed largely by merchants and trading intermediaries from the Russian Empire who gradually settled in Afghan cities and integrated into local society. 

Today, descendants of this diaspora are concentrated primarily in the northern provinces of Balkh, Samangan, and Baghlan, providing Kazan with an important human infrastructure for engagement that predates the events of 2021. In March 2021, the Afghan government formally recognized "Tatar" as a nationality category in civil documentation, which anchored the community's relationship with Kazan more durably than informal ties had previously allowed.

The institutional architecture developed in parallel. In 2023, a Russian business center affiliated with the Kazan-based Charitable Patriotic Fund of Muslims opened in Kabul. Russia became the first country to open a business representative office in Afghanistan after August 2021. 

Tatarstani firms entered the market before the federal center had resolved the legal status of the Taliban movement, which remained on Russia's list of banned organizations until April 2025, when the Supreme Court suspended the ban and Russia became the first state to formally recognize the government in Kabul. 

During that pre-recognition period, Tatarstan's engagement operated in a space that federal diplomacy could not formally occupy, and the institutional relationships established during those years have persisted after recognition. 

As CEO of the Charitable Patriotic Foundation of Muslims of Russia, Rustam Khabibullin headed the business representative office. Even before the Taliban movement came to power, the patriotic foundation of Muslims had maintained relations with Afghanistan, in particular with Afghans of Tatar origin. Trade volumes reflect the accumulated weight of this engagement. 

Tatarstan–Afghanistan commerce doubled in the first eleven months of 2025 to US$ 51 million, accounting for roughly 10 percent of total Russian–Afghan trade. Tatarstan exports petroleum products, grain, KAMAZ trucks, and specialized equipment; Afghanistan exports dried fruits and minerals. 

In May 2025, Deputy Prime Minister Abdul Ghani Baradar led an Afghan delegation to Kazan for meetings with Rais Rustam Minnikhanov and federal ministers. 

In August 2025, a Tatarstani delegation headed by Deputy Prime Minister Oleg Korobchenko travelled to Kabul, the first regional Russian delegation of such standing to visit in the post-2021 period.

IMPLICATIONS:

The paradiplomatic model offers Moscow operational flexibility that formal diplomacy cannot match, even after recognition. Industrial cooperation, equipment supplies, and energy projects can be advanced through Kazan without elevating every transaction to state-to-state protocol. 

The confessional and historical background that Tatarstan brings to the engagement is quite unique. Recognition has regularized the legal environment without altering the functional logic that made Kazan the preferred channel in the first place. 

The federal center has therefore continued to route substantial engagement through the republic rather than absorbing the Afghan file fully into the standard Ministry of Foreign Affairs framework.

This model also has historical precedents. During the Soviet period, Moscow often used Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan as showcase republics of the “Soviet East” — modernized Muslim-majority regions meant to demonstrate the compatibility of socialism with development, secular governance, and industrial progress. 

Tashkent in particular hosted Afro-Asian conferences and served as a symbolic bridge to the decolonizing world, while Kazakhstan projected an image of industrial modernity and frontier development. In this sense, the current use of Tatarstan as Russia’s preferred Afghan channel reflects not an innovation, but a revival of an older practice: governing external peripheries through carefully selected internal Muslim intermediaries.

The trilateral Tatarstan–Turkmenistan–Afghanistan transport corridor scheduled for signature at KazanForum 2026 in May represents the most consequential element of this architecture. The route is conceived as an alternative to the International North-South Transport Corridor, whose Iranian segment has been disrupted by regional conflict. 

Nuruddin Azizi, the Afghan Minister of Industry and Trade, has been one of the driving forces behind the project from Afghanistan, and Oleg Korobchenko, Tatarstan's Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Industry and Trade, has overseen the Tatarstani component through regular meetings with the Afghan side. First shipments are planned from Tatarstan. Khabibullin has identified Afghanistan as Tatarstan's leading importer of halal-certified goods. In 2024, companies in Tatarstan exported US$ 37 million worth of halal products to Afghanistan. This figure is 20 times higher than in 2023.

If the corridor materializes, it will deepen Russian participation in the trans-Afghan railway architecture that Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan have been actively advancing. Uzbekistan's project, which runs from Termez through Mazar-i-Sharif toward South Asian ports via the Salang Pass. Kazakhstan's alternative route, with approximately US$ 500 million committed including a logistics hub in Herat, follows the technically simpler Turgundi–Herat–Kandahar–Spin Boldak corridor across western Afghanistan.

A parallel track runs through Uzbekistan's Surkhandarya region, where the Aritom free economic zone in Termez borders Afghanistan and offers multimodal logistics including rail, road, and river port. At the Russia–Uzbekistan interregional conference held in Termez in autumn 2026, Tatarstani and Surkhandarya officials advanced a cooperation framework covering industrial localization, agro-processing, and transit through Aritom toward Afghan and broader South Asian markets. The Uzbek side has positioned the zone as a 250-million-consumer gateway; Tatarstan's two industrial parks at Chirchik and Jizzakh, where more than half of resident firms are Russian, provide a productive base that can be articulated with the transit infrastructure at Termez. The architecture allows Russian exports to reach Afghan markets either through the Turkmen corridor or through Uzbek infrastructure, which diversifies the operational risk inherent in a single route.

Energy and resource cooperation extends the model further. At the Tatarstan Oil and Gas Chemical Forum, the Taliban's acting Minister of Mines and Petroleum Hedayatullah Badri publicly invited Tatarstani firms to invest in Afghan hydrocarbon projects, while the acting Minister of Energy and Water Resources Abdul Latif Mansur proposed Tatarstani participation in the Panjshir-to-Kabul water transfer project. Memoranda on exploration, extraction, and processing of oil and gas were signed in Kazan in 2025, and KER-Holding has advanced proposals for coal-fired power generation in Afghanistan. This is a role that China lost when its oil extraction project in northern Afghanistan was cancelled, and which Kazakhstan is now beginning to contest through Kazatomprom's and Kazakhmys's exploration activities in Laghman.

The labor migration track, opened in late 2025, adds a further dimension. Kabul has formally proposed directing Afghan labor migrants to Tatarstan, with an initial cohort of approximately 1,000 workers for the agricultural sector and potential expansion across industries. This inverts the direction of the Afghan exodus of the 2021–2024 period and establishes a formal channel through which Afghan labor enters Russia via a subnational agreement, a configuration that the federal labor migration framework has not previously accommodated.

The limits of the model are also visible. Banking infrastructure remains the principal operational constraint. Rustam Khabibullin has publicly identified transaction commissions of approximately 30 percent as a substantial barrier to Russia–Afghanistan commercial settlement and has proposed that Russia develop an international payments system modelled on hawala for transactions with member states of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation. Nur Ahmad Agha, the chairman of Da Afghanistan Bank, is expected to attend the first congress of OIC national bank representatives at KazanForum 2026, which has been identified as the venue for this discussion. Without a payments architecture that can absorb Afghan transactions at scale, the trade volumes reported will remain concentrated in a narrow band of fuel, grain, and equipment.

CONCLUSIONS:

Tatarstan's Afghan engagement is neither a humanitarian gesture nor a purely commercial venture. It is the operational layer of Russian policy in a region where the confessional and communal dimensions of the relationship carry weight that standard diplomatic instruments cannot supply. 

Russia's formal recognition of the Taliban government in April 2025 regularized the legal environment without displacing the Tatarstani channel, because the republic's combination of Islamic identity, a diaspora community in northern Afghanistan, an institutional platform in KazanForum, and a productive industrial base constitutes an instrument that no federal subject of Russia could replicate. 

The trilateral corridor agreement prepared for May 2026 and the parallel track through Surkhandarya indicate that the model is scaling from bilateral commerce toward regional transit infrastructure. Whether Tatarstan's engagement consolidates into a durable Russian presence in Afghanistan will depend on the resolution of payment-system constraints and on whether Moscow formalizes the paradiplomatic arrangement through a trade representation in Kabul. 

The broader significance lies in what the case illustrates: in the northward reorientation of Afghanistan that began with the closure of the Pakistani corridor, external powers are not only competing through state-level instruments but through the subnational channels that carry confessional, communal, and industrial advantages.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Eldaniz Gusseinov is Head of Research and сo-founder at the political foresight agency Nightingale Int. and a non-resident research fellow at Haydar Aliyev Center for Eurasian Studies of the Ibn Haldun University, Istanbul. Rassul Kospanov is a Senior Researcher at the National Analytical Center under Nazarbayev University, where he coordinates socio-political research projects and prepares analytical reports and policy recommendations for central and local government bodies. His work focuses on political processes in Kazakhstan and across Central Asia, as well as issues of regional cooperation.

By Stephen Blank

Recent trends in world politics have led several analysts to emphasize the idea of the retreat or recession of Russian power abroad. Yet few have commented on a key aspect of this retreat, namely the growing movement across Central Asia to unseat the Russian language from its position, often enshrined in law, as an official language on a par with the native tongue. Trends across the region demonstrate state action to diminish the role of the Russian language, growing political discussion of the issue, or socio-economic trends working to reduce the hegemony of the Russian language. These trends also display both Russia’s mounting anxiety about such trends and its increasingly visible inability to reverse or stop them.

BACKGROUND:

Russia’s recent reversals in Syria, Venezuela, the Caucasus and potentially Iran have triggered a flood of articles proclaiming the retreat of Russian power. However, none of these writings noticed the parallel ongoing dethronement of the Russian language from its previous eminence in Central Asia. Nevertheless, this epochal development, like Russia’s aforementioned geostrategic defeats, possesses profound political as well as cultural significance.  Given the importance of linguistic policies in the Tsarist, Soviet, and now post-Soviet regimes, the retreat of the Russian language from a position of linguistic-political primacy in Central Asia signifies major political and cultural transformations.

Specifically, Kazakhstan’s new constitution subtly but overtly downgrades the status of Russian as an official language. Article 9 of the new constitution establishes Kazakh as the dominant language of the country, relegating Russian to the status of an official language used by the government “alongside” Kazakh. This new constitution obtained massive public support although much of it was probably engineered from above, forcing Putin to congratulate President Tokayev on its ratification.  However, those congratulatory remarks, as Tokayev and his team well know, probably came through clenched teeth and were preceded by much Russian public criticism of Kazakhstan’s language policies.

An analysis of Russian press perspectives on the return of Kazakhstan’s Latin alphabet, originally introduced in the 1920’s, from the Cyrillicization of the alphabet during the height of Stalinism, displays a politicized perspective where this process is seen as a repudiation of a Russian orientation in favor of a Turkic-Western one. Insofar as Turkey and Western powers like the EU and the U.S. have stepped up their presence and interest in Kazakhstan and Central Asia as a whole, this politicized perspective sees language and alphabet policies as manifestations of the growing regional presence of those parties at Moscow’s expense. Thus, Russian press coverage warns Central Asian audiences against alleged foreign plots of an imperialist nature.

Russian media also minimize or deny the agency of Kazakhstan and other Central Asian states in formulating and then executing their own alphabet and language policies while implicitly and often overtly extolling the superior, imperial role of Russia’s language and culture as a vehicle for connecting Central Asia with modern civilization and culture. In other words, much of this literature reflects an imperial echo with deep roots in late Tsarist and then Soviet imperial policies that Russian elites seek to preserve.

IMPLICATIONS:

Kazakhstan’s assertion of its linguistic sovereignty challenges the Russian dream of maintaining its cultural-political hegemony over Central Asia because it is losing the means to enforce that claim on Kazakhstan and because Astana’s example is being replicated across Central Asia, e.g. in Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan. In Uzbekistan, as a 2024 paper makes clear, Russian must coexist if not compete with Uzbek and Tajik while English, a global Lingua Franca, is rapidly gaining on it as well. In Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan’s example has simultaneously stimulated debates on emulating its language policy.

Predictably the Russian government, sensing another threat to its receding hegemonic pretensions, has reacted strongly. On March 19, its embassy in Bishkek forcefully demanded that Kyrgyzstan’s government suppress “provocative statements of certain public figures” about the place of Russian in Kyrgyz society. The statement also complains about “language patrols” where vigilantes purportedly try to intimidate people to stop speaking Russian and speak only Kyrgyz. The embassy deemed such calls incitement to ethnic hatred and a threat to Russo-Kyrgyz strategic partnership and, in a conscious echo of Soviet propaganda, “deep alliance between our fraternal peoples and countries – Russia and Kyrgyzstan.”

This atavistic employment of Soviet tropes is no accident. Whereas Lenin’s language policies, likely inspired by his father’s work in teaching Orthodoxy to Muslims, wagered that teaching socialism would lead Soviet Muslims to socialism; Stalin decisively imposed Russification by giving the Russian language primacy and Cyrillicizing Central Asian alphabets. Putin’s consistent attacks on Lenin’s nationality policies, many of which stemmed from an appreciation of socio-political realities during the early Soviet period, reflect his clear preference for the centralizing, Stalinist, and more openly imperialist policies of Stalin and his successors.

Nevertheless, a generation after independence and having devoted much effort to fostering large-scale national identification among their populations, Central Asian leaders are openly moving to assert not just their foreign policy sovereignty, but also their linguistic nationalism. The use of Russian across Central Asia will likely remain pervasive because of the benefits it offers in economic relations with Russian and possibly Central Asian entities. However, Russian will not be the only regional Lingua Franca or the language of Russian imperial hegemony either in the Caucasus or in Central Asia. Since we can readily imagine a similar outcome in Ukraine due Russia’s war against the country, which underlies many of the causes for the retreat of Russian hegemony, the trends discernible in Central Asia go far beyond its borders.

CONCLUSIONS:

Even as the Russian government is currently discussing legislation allowing it to intervene anywhere abroad on behalf of its citizens, Central Asian developments presage the ongoing erosion of Russian cultural and thus political power. The whole idea of the “Russkii Mir” (Russian World) based on speakers of the Russian language that furnishes a pretext for interventions abroad is rapidly falling to pieces. From Tsarist and Soviet times, Russian authorities consistently regarded Russian as the sole “civilized” and therefore hegemonic language of the empire and often sought to enforce that hegemony by coercion. Those days are visibly ending as Central Asian governments are, with increasing confidence, asserting their own native tongues while also opening up to greater economic-cultural interaction with other countries. While Russian will not disappear in Central Asia; it is being decentered and increasingly deprived of its superior legal-political standing.

This process is clearly linked to the global recession of Russian power even as Russia fights to retain its erstwhile imperial and global great power status. For its rulers, expression of that status through all the forms of cultural power, e.g. alphabets and languages, was a critical component of empire. Yet what we see today, despite Moscow’s threats or even forceful efforts to arrest or reverse that decline, is an imperial sunset that evidently cannot be stopped either in culture or in hard power.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Stephen Blank is a Senior Fellow with the Foreign Policy Research Institute, www.fpri.org.