By Umair Jamal

The Afghan Taliban’s growing investment in drone technology is seemingly a response to their conventional military limitations. Rather than a surprising development, it reflects a broader global trend where actors with limited resources use affordable drone systems to challenge better-equipped opponents like Pakistan. This capability not only strengthens the Taliban’s asymmetric warfare options but also raises serious concerns about technology proliferation to other militant groups, including the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), and its impact on regional stability.

BACKGROUND:

Since returning to power in August 2021, the Taliban have faced severe constraints, including the lack of a functional air force and heavy international sanctions. It seems they have turned to unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) as a feasible and cost-effective solution for surveillance and limited strike missions.

According to ACLED data, the Taliban first began using drones in a military capacity in February this year, with at least 12 recorded instances of strikes into Pakistan. These have included cross-border attacks targeting Pakistani security posts, with some attempts reaching deeper into Pakistani territory. Initially employed for propaganda, the platforms have evolved into weaponized systems.

The Taliban are actively working to build domestic drone production capabilities. Reports point to front companies such as Dinit Technology offering lucrative contracts to engineers and robotics experts in Afghanistan to join the program. Moreover, recruitment efforts have also targeted universities, with Taliban officials showing interest in student drone projects. 

The Daily Mail recently reported that the Taliban are using a former Special Air Service (SAS) base in Logar Province as the primary test site for the new drones. According to one report, the Taliban are now sourcing electronic and mechanical parts – GPS modules, electric motors, flight control systems, and sensors – from black markets and smuggling networks for these purposes as the group lacks any formal agreement with any country. Although designed for civilian use, these items are reportedly being repurposed to produce increasingly sophisticated drones capable of medium-altitude flight, reconnaissance, and precision strikes.

Local production and maintenance facilities are seemingly being established at a rapid pace. For many Afghans, these developments may be viewed with a mix of nationalist sentiment and concern about prolonged conflict as advancing drone capabilities could draw increased foreign attention and potentially intensify conflict in the region. Communities near the border regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan are already experiencing the direct effects of heightened tensions and increased militarization. 

IMPLICATIONS:

The Taliban’s drone program is a clear example of how emerging technologies enable resource-limited actors to challenge conventionally superior opponents. 

This logic has become increasingly evident during Russia’s war in Ukraine, where drones have proved highly effective against better-resourced forces. Arguably, the same advantage applies to both state and non-state actors, explaining why both the Taliban and groups like the TTP are heavily investing in drone capabilities.

For Pakistan, which has traditionally relied on conventional military superiority, this development poses a direct challenge. For instance, cross-border drone activity has already increased pressure on border defenses and air surveillance systems. 

Pakistan, like many countries heavily invested in traditional military hardware, has lagged in developing effective counter-drone technologies. Its defense doctrine and procurement have historically prioritized conventional assets such as fighter jets, tanks, and artillery systems, leaving gaps in addressing low-cost and asymmetric threats like modified commercial drones. 

This technological lag has become particularly evident in recent border incidents, where Pakistani forces have struggled to consistently detect and neutralize small and low-flying UAVs used by the Taliban and TTP. As a result, Islamabad has had to rely on ad-hoc measures and international partnerships to bolster its counter-drone capabilities, highlighting the urgent need for greater investment in specialized electronic warfare, radar systems, and drone-jamming technologies tailored to the evolving regional threat landscape.

There are concrete examples that illustrate the growing threat. For instance, the TTP has repeatedly used commercial, suicide, and quadcopter drones against Pakistani security forces in multiple operations along the border regions, demonstrating their increasing tactical sophistication. 

The conflict took a stark turn in December 2025 when the TTP formally announced the creation of its own dedicated Air Force unit. This development reflected a heavily altered operational reality on the ground. Data from Pakistan’s Inter-Services Public Relations (ISPR) acknowledged that security forces faced over 400 quadcopter and drone-related militant incidents in late 2025 alone. This sudden surge has opened critical gaps in Pakistan’s conventional military defense. While the state’s defense apparatus can effectively neutralize high-value projectiles using localized electronic jamming, it struggles against the stark asymmetry of commercial off-the-shelf drones costing a mere US$ 200 to US$ 1,000 per unit. By deploying these cheap systems at volume, the TTP usually employs saturation strategies that threaten to overwhelm the military’s conventional electronic jammers and physical defense systems.

From Pakistan’s perspective, the TTP’s growing use of drones has become a serious operational challenge for law enforcement in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP). Senior KP police officials have acknowledged that commercial and quadcopter drones are increasingly used for surveillance of security convoys and to guide suicide attacks, making traditional policing methods inadequate. At times, the TTP follow a saturation strategy, employing drones and militants armed with sophisticated infantry weapons, stretching the presence of security forces, and then attacking through heavy blasts, e.g. car bombs. 

This evolving threat has forced provincial police in Pakistan’s KP province to accelerate modernization efforts, including procurement of anti-drone systems, electronic jamming equipment, and specialized training for rapid response units. Moreover, police forces in KP province that face attacks from TTP have undertaken modernization efforts, with provincial police setting up a dedicated drone training school in Nowshera. Recently, the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Police received 76 AI-powered drones with advanced surveillance and thermal imaging technology.

The pressure from TTP drone-enabled operations has compelled law enforcement agencies to shift from conventional ground-focused tactics toward integrated counter-drone strategies, highlighting the urgent need to bridge critical capability gaps along the border regions. The Khyber Pakhtunkhwa police claimed in July that it foiled 341 drone attacks by TTP militants with the help of modern technology in the last six months.

The Afghan Taliban, for their part, have actively employed modified commercial drones not only for reconnaissance but also as counter-attack tools in response to Pakistani conventional strikes. They have publicly framed these operations as their de facto Air Force missions. For instance, the Taliban have allegedly used drones to hit ISIS-K elements in Baluchistan, reportedly in retaliation to Pakistani cross-border actions.

These drone strikes seemingly serve a dual purpose. They provide the Taliban with a much-needed ability to project strength and respond to external pressure, while also offering valuable propaganda material. For a regime facing domestic criticism for its inability to counter Pakistani incursions, drone operations have become a political lifeline as they help the Taliban portray themselves as capable defenders and boosting regime legitimacy. Repeated operations also allow the Taliban to improve target location accuracy and operational effectiveness

One of the most critical implications of this development is the extreme difficulty, perhaps impossibility, of controlling proliferation. Arguably, cheap and dual-use drone technology is far easier to acquire and modify than advanced weapons systems. Components are widely available on global black markets, with reports suggesting the Taliban acquire parts through smuggling networks, possibly involving suppliers from the broader region and beyond. International efforts to restrict access are likely to have limited impact given the commercial nature of the technology.

This proliferation risk extends beyond the Taliban. If the group continues advancing its program, expertise and components could spread to other militant factions operating from Afghan soil. This can further intensify cross-border militancy and complicate counter-terrorism efforts for Pakistan and Central Asian states.

More broadly, the program highlights the global challenge of dual-use technology proliferation. Even isolated regimes like the Taliban can develop disruptive tools through commercial channels. This adds to existing instability in South and Central Asia and tests the effectiveness of current international export control regimes.

CONCLUSIONS:

The Taliban’s pursuit of a domestic drone program represents a logical and predictable adaptation to their strategic constraints. While still evolving, these capabilities demonstrate how asymmetric tools are reshaping modern conflict. 

The spread of this technology to groups like the TTP, combined with the lag in counter-drone defenses among regional powers, creates a more dangerous security environment.

As these capabilities mature, they risk heightening border tensions, increasing militarization, and generating new challenges for stability across South and Central Asia. 

In this regard, greater international attention to monitoring dual-use technologies and fostering regional cooperation on counter-drone measures will be essential to mitigating these risks. Ultimately, the trajectory of the Taliban’s drone program may significantly influence the future security landscape of the region.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Umair Jamal is a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Otago, New Zealand, and an analyst at Diplomat Risk Intelligence (DRI). His research focuses on counterterrorism and security issues in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and the broader Asia region. He offers analytical consulting to various think tanks and institutional clients in Pakistan and around the world. He has published for several media outlets, including Al-Jazeera, Foreign Policy, SCMP, The Diplomat, and the Huffington Post.

By Kodirjon Eshonkulov

On July 2–3, 2026, President Shavkat Mirziyoyev paid Uzbekistan's first presidential state visit to Georgia in 23 years, elevating bilateral ties to a strategic partnership. Coming weeks after a similar upgrade with Kazakhstan and a wave of Georgian ministerial visits across Central Asia, the trip is not a bilateral curiosity but a marker of a structural shift: Central Asian states are actively re-anchoring their westward connectivity strategy in the South Caucasus, and doing so on terms decoupled from the European Union's political relationship with Tbilisi. For the future of the China–Kyrgyzstan–Uzbekistan (CKU) railway and Middle Corridor connectivity, the durability of this Caucasus terminus may matter as much as the eastern infrastructure itself.

BACKGROUND:

Uzbekistan and Georgia established diplomatic relations in 1994, formalized a year later through a Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation, and have since maintained a modest but steadily expanding relationship built on trade, direct Tashkent–Tbilisi and Tashkent–Batumi flights, and cultural exchange through Tbilisi's Georgian Cultural Center Megobroba, active since the same year. Bilateral trade reached roughly US$ 270 million by the end of 2025, a meaningful but still marginal figure relative to Uzbekistan’s overall trade portfolio. Momentum built gradually: Georgian Prime Minister Irakli Kobakhidze visited Tashkent in March 2025, and Days of Georgian Culture were held in Tashkent this past March. 

What distinguishes the July 2026 visit is both its symbolism and its timing. Mirziyoyev’s trip was the first at head-of-state level in over two decades, and it produced a Joint Declaration establishing a strategic partnership, alongside sectoral memoranda spanning economy, healthcare, agriculture, finance, customs, education, ICT, and culture. Crucially, it did not occur in isolation. It followed Georgian Dream ministers’ consecutive June visits to Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Kazakhstan, and preceded Kazakhstan’s own strategic partnership agreement with Georgia (signed June 30 in Astana) by only days. A visit by Turkmenistan’s president to Tbilisi is reportedly also being prepared. Taken together, this is not a single bilateral gesture but a coordinated Georgian campaign to institutionalize relations across the entire Central Asian core, and a reciprocal Central Asian interest in securing a reliable Caucasus foothold. Beyond official protocol, the visit registers concretely at the level of Uzbekistan’s exporting businesses. Investment and Trade Minister Laziz Qudratov described how domestic manufacturers in textiles, food processing, and household appliances plan to complete final production stages inside Georgia’s Poti free economic zone before re-exporting to third-country markets — a practical illustration of how exporters, not only diplomats, are recalibrating around the Caucasus route. Local reporting on the visit also cited a nearly US$ 400 million prospective portfolio of hotel and residential projects tied to the deepening exchange. Georgian President Mikheil Kavelashvili, for his part, publicly framed the partnership as reinforcing Middle Corridor connectivity between the South Caucasus and Central Asia, suggesting the recalibration is felt on both sides of the route rather than driven solely from Tashkent.

IMPLICATIONS:

The logic behind this convergence is best understood through the lens of the Middle Corridor, the Trans-Caspian trade route linking Central Asia and China to Europe via the Caspian Sea, the South Caucasus, and the Black Sea, explicitly designed to bypass Russian territory. Since 2022, the corridor has moved from a secondary alternative to a strategic necessity for Eurasian trade planners, precisely because the northern route through Russia carries mounting sanctions risk and reputational cost. For Uzbekistan, this matters concretely: the CKU railway, once operational, will generate westward-bound freight that needs a credible onward path to European markets. Georgia's Black Sea ports, Poti and Batumi, are the corridor’s terminal gateway. A CKU line that ends without a secure, upgraded, and diplomatically stable corridor beyond the Caspian is a truncated asset. Mirziyoyev’s visit, and the accompanying attention to industrial, logistics, and tourism cooperation, should be read as an attempt to secure that missing western half of the chain.

This is where the visit’s timing against Georgia’s own geopolitical trajectory becomes analytically significant. Georgia’s EU accession process has been effectively frozen since 2024, following the Georgian Dream government’s foreign-agents legislation and its own decision to suspend accession talks until 2028. The European Council has described the process as being at a “standstill,” and the EU has cut assistance and partially suspended visa facilitation. Yet, notably, working-level cooperation between Georgian officials and their EU, NATO, and U.S. counterparts has reportedly continued largely undisturbed, and Brussels has kept investing in interconnection projects that run through Georgian territory, including Black Sea undersea cable plans advanced via a Romania-Georgia memorandum earlier this year.

This produces what might be called a decoupling of infrastructural and normative logics. Political-value alignment between Tbilisi and Brussels has deteriorated, but the geographic and commercial rationale for treating Georgia as an indispensable transit state has not, incentivizing Central Asian capitals to deepen engagement with Georgia on infrastructure, trade, and logistics. This gives Tashkent room to pursue a transactional, interest-based diplomacy toward the Caucasus, a pattern consistent with Uzbekistan’s broader post-2016 foreign policy style, which has generally prioritized connectivity and economic diversification over alignment with any single bloc’s political conditionality.

Armenia constitutes another important part of the equation. Georgia is currently viewed, including by Armenian officials, as the most EU-oriented state in the South Caucasus and as a de facto gateway for Armenia’s own European aspirations. Should Armenian-Azerbaijani normalization progress, particularly regarding transit arrangements sometimes referenced as the Zangezur corridor, a second Caucasus route could eventually supplement the existing Azerbaijan–Georgia axis, further reducing Central Asia’s dependence on any single transit state and adding redundancy to the Middle Corridor architecture. For now, however, the corridor’s practical backbone remains the Azerbaijan–Georgia pairing, with Uzbekistan’s new strategic partnership effectively buying insurance on the Georgian half of that pairing.

CONCLUSIONS:

Mirziyoyev’s Tbilisi visit should not be filed away as routine diplomatic housekeeping. It is best understood as one node in a broader, near-simultaneous Central Asian recalibration toward the South Caucasus, running parallel to, and largely independent of, the EU’s own frozen political relationship with Georgia. The distinction matters: it suggests that the Middle Corridor’s institutional foundations are being built on transactional infrastructure diplomacy rather than shared democratic conditionality, a divergence that may serve Central Asian connectivity interests in the near term but could complicate future efforts to fold these corridors into EU-backed connectivity frameworks such as Global Gateway. For the CKU railway’s long-term commercial viability, the durability of Uzbekistan’s new Georgian partnership, and the corridor’s insulation from further South Caucasus political volatility, will matter as much as the completion of the tracks themselves.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Kodirjon Eshonkulov is an independent researcher specializing in Central Asian geopolitics, transboundary infrastructure politics, international relations with Europe and a recent graduate of Ajou University’s Graduate School of International Studies in South Korea. He was worked as a political correspondent on Uzbekistan’s social and political reforms after 2017. He has published several articles in The Times of Central Asia about Uzbekistan’s water scarcity problem and its relations with Afghan Taliban government on the Koshtepa canal. 

By Mathieu Lemoine

Armenia’s June 2026 parliamentary elections were not only a contest over government formation. It was a test of whether democratic politics can provide legitimacy for a painful post-Karabakh recalibration. Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan’s Civil Contract party won 49.81 percent of the vote, enough to continue governing, but not the two-thirds majority required to initiate constitutional change on its own. The result strengthens Pashinyan’s mandate to pursue peace with Azerbaijan and diversify Armenia’s foreign policy, but it does not remove the structural pressures shaping the South Caucasus.

BACKGROUND:

The election was Armenia’s first parliamentary vote since Azerbaijan’s 2023 takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh and the displacement of its Armenian population. It followed years of declining confidence in Russia’s security guarantees, growing Armenian engagement with the EU and the U.S., and a difficult peace process with Azerbaijan. The campaign therefore unfolded at the intersection of domestic legitimacy, post-war trauma and regional realignment.

Civil Contract’s victory confirmed that Armenian voters were not prepared to return the pre-2018 political elite to power. It also showed that Russia-oriented opposition forces, despite mobilizing dissatisfaction over Karabakh and Pashinyan’s concessions, could not convert that discontent into a governing majority. Strong Armenia received 23.29 percent of the vote, while the Armenia Alliance also remained well behind the ruling party, leaving Civil Contract with a clear lead and the ability to form a government. At the same time, the vote should not be read as a simple plebiscite on “the West.” Pashinyan campaigned on peace, sovereignty and a more balanced foreign policy, not on a clean rupture with Russia.

From an electoral perspective, the process mattered because Armenia’s foreign policy shift depends on the government’s ability to claim democratic legitimacy. International observers assessed the vote as competitive and generally well administered, while also noting a confrontational campaign environment and external pressure. Reuters also reported concerns over selective justice linked to prosecutions and arrests of opposition figures before the vote. This combination is important. The election produced a usable mandate, but not an uncontested political consensus.

IMPLICATIONS:

The first implication is that an electoral mandate is not a peace settlement. Pashinyan can now argue that voters endorsed continuity: negotiations with Azerbaijan, normalization with Türkiye and strategic diversification away from overdependence on Russia. Yet the most difficult questions remain outside the immediate reach of an ordinary parliamentary majority. Azerbaijan has demanded that Armenia amend its constitution to remove what Baku regards as an implicit reference to Nagorno-Karabakh. Pashinyan’s party did not secure the parliamentary strength needed to call a constitutional referendum on its own. This creates a gap between electoral legitimacy and constitutional capacity.

That gap will shape the next phase of negotiations. The Armenian government can continue talks, but it cannot easily present constitutional change as a purely technical step. For many Armenians, Karabakh is not only a legal issue but a national trauma. Any move perceived as closing the historical and political question of Karabakh will be vulnerable to opposition mobilization. In this sense, the election authorized a direction, but not every concession that may be required to complete it.

The second implication concerns Azerbaijan’s leverage. The vote strengthened the Armenian government domestically, but it did not alter the asymmetry created by Azerbaijan’s military advantage since 2020 and 2023. Border incidents and reports of renewed ceasefire violations, particularly around sensitive areas such as Syunik, show that negotiations continue under pressure rather than in a neutral environment. This matters because the unresolved implementation of transit arrangements, including the Trump Route for International Peace and Prosperity, leaves room for competing interpretations over sovereignty, customs, security and access between Azerbaijan proper and Nakhchivan.

Armenia can endorse connectivity as part of a peace agenda. Indeed, Pashinyan’s “Crossroads of Peace” logic depends on turning Armenia from a blockaded state into a regional connector. But if transit arrangements remain ambiguous or delayed, connectivity can also become a source of coercion. Syunik is not only a transport question. It is Armenia’s southern link to Iran, a sensitive zone in Azerbaijani-Turkish strategy, and a red line for Tehran. This is why the regional significance of Armenia’s election lies less in the result itself than in whether the government can convert its mandate into enforceable arrangements that preserve Armenian sovereignty while enabling regional trade.

The third implication is that Russia’s role is weakened but not eliminated. Moscow’s credibility as Armenia’s security patron has been severely damaged since 2020 and 2023, a reassessment reflected in Pashinyan’s own statement that Armenia’s reliance on Russia for security had been a “strategic mistake.” During the election campaign, Russian pressure appeared not only as geopolitical rhetoric but as a factor in the electoral environment: observers cited public threats and trade pressure, while media reporting also pointed to information operations aimed at influencing the vote. That is precisely why the Armenian case is instructive for the wider post-Soviet space: external influence no longer operates only through formal alliances, military bases or economic dependence. It also works through the campaign environment, information space, diaspora networks and the use of economic vulnerability.

The election showed that Russian pressure can be politically counterproductive. It did not prevent Pashinyan’s victory and may have reinforced his claim to be defending Armenian sovereignty. But Russia retains tools that can complicate Armenia’s post-election trajectory. Armenia remains economically exposed to Russia through trade, energy, labor migration and remittances. It also remains formally entangled in Russian-led institutions, even as the political basis for that alignment erodes. The region is therefore not simply becoming “post-Russian.” It is becoming less ordered, less predictable and more coercive.

The fourth implication concerns the West. The EU, the U.S. and several European states have more room to support Armenia after the election. Western political backing can strengthen Armenia’s institutional resilience, reduce isolation and support negotiations. But political support is not the same as hard security guarantees. Armenia’s strategic problem is not that it has chosen one patron over another. It is that the old patron has lost legitimacy, while no new actor is prepared to replace it as a security guarantor.

This creates a difficult policy environment for Yerevan. Armenia must deepen cooperation with Western partners without provoking expectations that cannot be met. It must maintain relations with Iran without undermining its Western outreach. It must manage Russia without returning to dependency. And it must negotiate with Azerbaijan from a weaker position while persuading Armenian society that peace is not capitulation. Elections can legitimize this course, but they cannot substitute for a security architecture.

For the South Caucasus, the broader lesson is that the regional order is moving beyond Russian-centered conflict management without yet acquiring a stable replacement. Azerbaijan is more powerful. Türkiye is more central. Iran is defensive about corridor politics and border changes. Russia is weakened but still disruptive. Western actors are more present but cautious. In this environment, Armenia’s election is regionally significant because it tested whether democratic legitimacy can support a small state’s strategic adaptation under pressure.

CONCLUSIONS:

Armenia’s election should not be interpreted only as a geopolitical choice between Russia and the West. It is better understood as a case of democratic mandate under strategic constraint. Pashinyan now has renewed legitimacy to pursue peace, normalization and diversification. Yet this legitimacy does not by itself resolve the constitutional question, Azerbaijan’s leverage, Russian coercive tools, uncertainty over transit arrangements, or the lack of enforceable Western security guarantees.

The vote therefore clarifies Armenia’s direction but not its destination. It gives the government political authority to continue, but the durability of that authority will depend on whether peace and connectivity produce tangible security rather than new vulnerabilities. If Armenia can translate electoral legitimacy into a credible settlement, stronger institutions and diversified partnerships, the 2026 election may become a turning point in the South Caucasus. If not, it may be remembered as a mandate that clarified the country’s intentions without resolving the regional pressures surrounding them.

The central lesson extends beyond Armenia. In a fragmented South Caucasus, elections can authorize strategic change, but they cannot replace security architecture. Democratic legitimacy is a necessary resource for Armenia’s post-Karabakh recalibration. It is not, on its own, a guarantee that the region will become more stable.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Mathieu Lemoine is a governance, rule of law and public sector reform professional with experience across UNDP, USAID, OSCE, EU institutions and election observation missions. He has worked extensively on governance, elections, civil society and regional dynamics in Central Asia, Eastern Europe and the South Caucasus.

By Nargiza Umarova

In early June, Istanbul hosted a number of significant events reflecting Central Asia’s growing role in the east-west land transit system. Representatives of the railway administrations of Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Türkiye, Georgia, Azerbaijan and Kyrgyzstan signed an agreement to further develop the CASCA+ corridor (Central Asia–South Caucasus–Anatolia+). The aim is to increase the flow of goods, including transit traffic to the EU. This development aligns with the Middle Corridor extension strategy, the prospects of which was discussed at the 8th meeting of the United Nations Economic Commission for Europe – Economic Cooperation Organization (UNECE-ECO) Coordination Committee. Participants at the Istanbul meeting also reviewed the formation dynamics of the Southern Railway Corridor through Central Asia, Iran and Türkiye. Although the five Central Asian republics are actively involved in international transport initiatives, they have not yet succeeded in consolidating projects of regional interest and mutual benefit, creating the potential for unhealthy competition.

BACKGROUND:

The war in Ukraine, which has become the main geopolitical upheaval in Eurasia, and subsequent regional crises have impacted the security of global maritime shipping, are making land logistics increasingly important in intercontinental transport. This presents an opportunity for Central Asian states to establish a new trade route architecture, turning their geographical position into a strategic asset. However, to achieve this, it is first necessary to address issues of intra-regional connectivity, as this could strengthen Central Asia’s position in its relations with major powers.

Following the launch of a mechanism for regular consultative meetings in 2018, Central Asian countries prioritized the convergence of their national transport systems. This would strengthen the region’s connectivity, facilitate its integration into global supply chains, and accelerate economic growth.

This approach is based on data from authoritative international organizations, including the World Bank, which publishes the Logistics Performance Index (LPI) every two years, reflecting the current state of transport and communications at national and regional levels. 

The geographical remoteness of Central Asia from the open seas puts the region at a disadvantage in terms of achieving logistical efficiency. Landlocked countries must transit through coastal nations and cross multiple borders, which significantly increases the time required to transport goods. An additional day of transit leads to a seven percent reduction in exports. This illustrates the substantial effect that delivery times have on the volume and value of foreign trade. Due to high transport costs combined with the lack of direct access to the sea, the Central Asian region loses up to 2 percent of its GDP annually.

In the context of Central Asian connectivity, geography undoubtedly constrains foreign trade growth. However, this factor is generally manageable. Global experience shows that direct access to maritime trade does not guarantee a country a competitive advantage in logistics connectivity. Even within the same region, coastal economies have access to different numbers of markets with which they can trade without relying on intermediary countries. Morocco, for example, has the highest connectivity of all the North African countries, whereas Malaysia and Sri Lanka have achieved similar positions in Southeast and South Asia. All three of these developing economies are recognized regional transport and logistics hubs in their respective regions, and this has helped them raise their logistics efficiency to the required level. Since 2017, the Central Asian republics have been striving for a similar outcome, working to consolidate extended transport links between countries, with a particular focus on increasing the region’s transit potential. Proximity to open seas is in this case less important than an intraregional strategy enabling Central Asian countries to manage their geographic location and improve transport logistics.

IMPLICATIONS:

From the outset, the five Central Asian states agreed to integrate into the global transport network as a single entity, rather than individually. This would pave the way for the region’s strategic autonomy, which, through implementing a coordinated policy to develop and promote promising transit corridors crossing Central Asia, could align relations with major powers, prioritizing pan-regional interests and thereby enhancing the region’s geopolitical significance. The primary task of this approach is to strengthen intra-regional connectivity, which requires collective action to remove administrative, legal and technical barriers. To this end, the establishment of a Regional Center for Transport and Communications Connectivity under the auspices of the UN has been proposed.

Although this initiative has yet to be implemented, certain positive developments in Central Asia’s transport connectivity have already been achieved. These include the restoration and modernization of key transport routes between countries in the region, the opening of new trade routes and an increase in transit freight traffic. However, urgent solutions are needed to address issues such as unifying tariff policies, harmonizing transport legislation, introducing standardized permit forms and electronic document management practices, reducing customs duties, increasing the throughput capacity of border crossings and simplifying customs procedures. Attracting investment in transport infrastructure and digitalizing the transportation process is also crucial. While there is a general understanding of the urgency of these issues, there is no consolidated effort to address them. 

There is a growing trend towards developing new interregional transit corridors rather than local transport routes. A focus on self-interest and a lack of proper coordination in the implementation of such projects risks fueling rivalry between regional states. This could potentially deprive them of the opportunity to influence the geopolitics of transport corridors in Central Asia.

Globally rising geopolitical tensions are creating growing uncertainty in the maritime shipping industry, which is making Central Asian trade routes increasingly important. This, in turn, is stimulating investment interest in the regional transport services market. The main investors are China and the EU, who are implementing their own global initiatives: the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) and the Global Gateway. Japan, South Korea and the Gulf states are also contributing to the development of Central Asia’s transport sector to varying degrees.

CONCLUSIONS:

With limited mutual coordination, the involvement of Central Asian states in infrastructure projects funded by external actors creates an incentive for unhealthy competition. Paradoxically, despite having overlapping interests in transport logistics and the potential to establish mutually beneficial cooperation based on shared priorities, the countries in the region act in isolation, often resorting to foreign aid or support. This is evident in the development of westward transport, for example.

Kazakhstan participates in the Trans-Caspian International Transport Route (TITR), connecting China and Europe and institutionalized by Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan and Georgia in 2014. In 2019, meanwhile, Uzbekistan launched the alternative CASCA+ corridor to Europe via the Caspian Sea in partnership with Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Türkiye. 

A similar situation is unfolding along the southern transit route. Uzbekistan is speeding up construction of the Trans-Afghan Railway (the Kabul Corridor), which runs from Termez to Naibabad, Maidanshahr, Logar and Kharlachi. The railway will provide access to Pakistani ports on the Indian Ocean. Meanwhile, Turkmenistan and Kazakhstan are working to create another railway corridor through Afghanistan's western provinces. These initiatives have attracted the attention of influential countries such as Russia, China, Iran and Türkiye, who view them in the context of their own geopolitical interests. This could influence the implementation of each route and fuel regional competition.

In order to avoid the duplication of infrastructure projects, the Central Asian republics should adopt a regional strategy for developing transport corridors and establish a single coordinating body with legal entity status. This would be an important step towards strengthening regional connectivity.

AUTHOR’S BIO: 

Nargiza Umarova is a Head of the Center for Strategic Connectivity at the Institute for Advanced International Studies (IAIS), University of World Economy and Diplomacy (UWED), and an analyst at the Non-governmental Research Institution ‘Knowledge Caravan’, Tashkent, Uzbekistan. Her research activities focus on developments in Central Asia, trends in regional integration, and the influence of great powers on this process. She also explores Uzbekistan’s current policy on the creation and development of international transport corridors. She can be contacted at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. .