Keywords

Introduction

The collapse of the Soviet Union sparked the creation of new informal practices across the former republics. Soviet-style corruption, in the form of blat (favours) and reiderstvo (corporate raiding), alongside newer informal practices, enabled the transition to independence (Ledeneva, 2018). Moreover, in the context of migration, Central Asian migrants produced new forms of informal governance and legal order in order to navigate the post-Soviet repressive legal system in Russia (Urinboyev, 2020).

Like other parts of the former Soviet periphery, in Kyrgyzstan Soviet-era practices and ideas were internalised even as independence bloomed. But, in response to a weak rule of law and the forces of capitalism, new forms of informal practices emerged in Kyrgyzstan given the country’s own unique circumstances. A growing body of literature exists which documents the interconnections between the business environment, governance, legal system, and informality in Kyrgyzstan and the broader post-Soviet space (Ismailbekova, 2017; Kupatadze, 2017). Another interesting body of scholarship centres on the criminal and street world in post-Soviet Central Asia (Beissembayev, 2016; Slade & Azbel, 2022). These works importantly explore how informal and formal norms, visible and invisible practices, and official and unofficial rules work side by side. Depending upon the need, some practices and rules become more important than others, whereas some rules and practices remain less important and, thus, ignored.

In this article, I also investigate the multifaceted landscape of Kyrgyzstan’s business environment, exploring the strategies, ethics, and morality employed by businessmen in both the Kyrgyz and Uzbek communities. This exploration is set against the backdrop of Kyrgyzstan’s precarious political situation drawing from extensive long-term research conducted in the region. To achieve my objectives, I delve into two essential political periods in Kyrgyzstan. Firstly, I examine the state of business affairs in the pre-Japarov era and, secondly, I analyse the period following Japarov’s ascent to power. These two distinct phases offer insights into how entrepreneurs adapt to changing circumstances.

Importantly, a comparative analysis of these two political periods allows for an assessment of the extent of business adaptation in response to their respective political challenges. The findings of my research show that, prior to the advent of the Japarov era, small businessmen found it advantageous to establish connections with criminal networks due to their distrust of the state. Conversely, during the Japarov period, we observed a concerted effort by businessmen to engage with the state because of the government’s vague policy on combating corruption under the umbrella of kusturizatsia (or ‘vomiting’).

These securityscapes have developed in reaction to various ‘imaginations of danger’, experienced in reality as physical violence, harassment, and the seizure of Uzbek businesses (Ismailbekova, 2018). According to von Boemcken et al. (2016, p. 5), ‘securityscapes can be understood as “imagined worlds” of security and insecurity that goad and structure the lives of people as they go about their daily business’. Thus, securityscapes are based on intersubjectively enacted social practices and emphasise the individual agency of actors in seeking security—which is particularly evident if these actors do not and cannot rely on state authorities.

In what follows, I discuss three types of securityscapes:

  1. 1.

    Countering Suyun Omurzakov’s ‘mafia’ network, I explore the intricate web of inter-ethnic patronage networks involving Kyrgyz state authorities and Kyrgyz and Uzbek businessmen, whilst also examining their respective visions for the future.

  2. 2.

    Countering corruption or dolya (‘share’), I examine why Uzbek businessmen often choose to work with criminal groups. They do so because they think the criminal networks feature stricter rules compared to those supplied by the state, which they view as less dependable and insufficient to protect their rights as businesspeople and as individuals in general. Thus, it is not just about business rights, but about everyone’s rights.

  3. 3.

    In discussing kusturizatsia, I shed light on the phenomenon of kusturizatsia, demonstrating its widespread acceptance despite numerous violations of legal norms that detrimentally impact the investment and business environment.

Before providing my detailed ethnographic findings, I first provide some background related to the political situation in Kyrgyzstan. Understanding the political context is important because it helps us make sense of the ever-changing, unpredictable, and dynamic political environment in Kyrgyzstan, which is heavily influenced by its competitive political culture.

Sociopolitical Background

Accounts from the series of revolutions (locally, revolutsia) experienced by Kyrgyzstan in 2005, 2010, and 2020 expand our understanding of the political dynamics of the country (see Aliiaskarov, 2023; Chekirova, 2023; Sheranova & Uraimov, 2023). Whilst the last twenty years of Kyrgyz politics have been characterised by political turmoil, initially, each of the now-former presidents enjoyed a high degree of support and trust. Key similarities characterise their loss of public trust and respective demands for regime changes. Specifically, each leader co-opted loyalists from a close network of family, friends, bodyguards, and other party members. They demonstratively punished their opponents, arresting or threatening them. Finally, all former presidents used the cover of ‘anticorruption’ initiatives to punish opposition (Ismailbekova, 2021a, 2021b).

Following the parliamentary elections on 4 October 2020, another coup d'état took place on 6 October due to popular discontent. As a result, Japarov’s supporters came to power by force, with the new rulers comprising Kyrgyz patriots and ethnic minority nationalists. One day, S. Japarov was released from prison, and then within a short time was acquitted by the Supreme Court and became Prime Minister and acting President. During his forty days in government, he managed to place his supporters in key positions (State Committee for National Security [GKNB], Speaker of Parliament, Prosecutor General, and, later, acting President amongst others). Instead of holding new parliamentary elections, Japarov pushed for parliament to decide upon presidential elections and a referendum to form a government. He also initiated the drafting of a new constitution for the republic, and a council to draft the constitution was established. All this led to a division within society into two camps. But, in the discussion about the political situation in Kyrgyzstan, the ethnic minority was ignored.

There is a paradox in current Kyrgyz politics: Why is Japarov popular despite his complete ignorance of the rule of law and the constitution? As I argue elsewhere, the popularity of Japarov amongst the Kyrgyz is that he represents the ‘native son’ (өz bala), a ‘simple man’ who wears several hats. He offers authoritarian power in the country, but his right to rule the country as a legitimate ruler results primarily from his personal suffering and his successful use of kinship, native son symbolism, genealogy, and the fact that many ordinary people identify with him (Ismailbekova, 2021d).

Japarov’s main contender was a southerner, Madumarov, known as a vocal nationalist because of his advocacy of nontitular groups and his actions during the June 2010 violence against Uzbeks. Yet, in September 2023, a prominent figure in the opposition, Madumarov was apprehended and detained due to his dissenting political views. He was supported by a majority of Kyrgyz from the south. However, he is also considered a nationalist by the nontitular segment of the population. His statement from 2007, when he was the state secretary of Kyrgyzstan—‘The Kyrgyz are masters of Kyrgyzstan and other ethnic minorities are lodgers’—remains in the memories of many ethnic minority groups.

By contrast, most ethnic minorities often vote for a northern presidential candidate or for a party whose leader is a northerner. As such, every Kyrgyz politician tries to win votes from ethnic minorities, particularly from Uzbeks. During elections, Kyrgyz politicians formerly won the support of ethnic minorities by recruiting influential people of nontitular ethnicities to their electoral teams. According to Ilias, Japarov has duh (‘courage’) and is from the north of Kyrgyzstan. Since Soviet times, we have supported someone from the north, one of my informants stated. It is easy to deal with state authorities from the north. Northerners, unlike southerners, have very little nationalist thinking. They can also openly protest criminals. Because of this trust and sympathy, southern Uzbeks prefer northern Kyrgyz authorities.

A strategy was adopted to form a ‘Kyrgyzstani’ civil society in 2013. Later, on the basis of this strategy, a field in the national passport indicating a citizen’s ethnicity was abolished. However, after Japarov came to power, he reintroduced this field by decree. The ‘ethnicity’ field will again appear in Kyrgyz citizens’ passports. This began to worry ethnic minorities, particularly Uzbeks, who were particularly impacted by the June 2010 events. Yet, indicating one’s ethnicity is voluntary, whereby those who want to may include it and those wishing not to are not obliged to do so (24.kg, 2020).

To understand why people support Japarov despite his propensity for violating the rule of law, it is important to examine the security strategies of Uzbek businessmen and their trust of a ‘controversial’ figure who personally experienced the injustice of law and can show his strength against other strong ‘mafia’ networks. People’s personalities and difficulties coincide with the potential head of state power, and people begin to identify with that person given their shared experiences, duh (‘courage’), and his identity as a ‘northerner with low nationalist ideals’. All of these factors contribute to people’s mobilisation. Simultaneously, businessmen describe their situation as a ‘waiting game’, claiming that they will see how things develop.

This backdrop illustrates two realities. On the one hand, people who support Japarov do not realise that the constitutional changes will return Kyrgyzstan to the Central Asian regional norm, establishing authoritarian rule. On the other hand, Japarov’s opponents must understand that the existing authoritarianism and deep-rooted patriarchy will not disappear and will continue to return when needed. Yet, when the rule of law does not work and people tire of judiciary injustice and no longer trust the state, they begin supporting the ‘controversial’ Japarov, despite his violations to the rule of law in search of justice and hoping for change.

Ethnic minorities and business-making

Parts of this section were adapted from my previous work, published by the Foreign Policy Centre (FPC) in 2021. See Ismailbekova (2021c) for further information and details.

Ethnic Kyrgyz comprise 72% of the population in Kyrgyzstan. The largest minority group consists of Uzbeks, representing 14.6% of the population, concentrated primarily in southern Kyrgyzstan. More specifically, Uzbeks primarily live in and around the city of Osh and in the Osh and Zhalal-Abad oblasts in the Fergana Valley. In southern Kyrgyzstan, Kyrgyz and Uzbeks reside in roughly equal proportions. For example, in 2009, the population of the city of Osh (258 000 inhabitants) was almost equally divided amongst Uzbeks (48%) and Kyrgyz (43%), with the remaining 9% comprised of other ethnic groups (NSC, 2009).

However, importantly and historically, the two ethnic groups have lived side by side, in constant contact with each other through a state of ‘symbiosis’ (Liu, 2012; Megoran, 2013). More specifically, Uzbeks have occupied a niche position in the middle of the economy, typically trading in bazaars, working as shopkeepers, café owners, and drivers, whereas Kyrgyz traditionally occupied local government structures (Liu, 2012; Megoran, 2013). However, the 2010 conflict drastically changed and destroyed this symbiosis, threatening the Uzbek business sector.

For instance, the Osh conflict in summer 2010 was the worst the region had witnessed in years. This conflict between Uzbeks and Kyrgyz erupted in the city on 10 June 2010 in the form of intercommunal clashes resulting from the political crisis in the country. Nationalism intensified in the country following the summer’s deadly clashes; a decade later, a common discourse promoting ‘Kyrgyzstan as the land of the Kyrgyz and the rest, that is, ethnic minorities, are guests’ (Abashin, 2011, p. 2) remains strong—not only among the youth, but also among the older generation as well. All these factors, such as nationalism, ethnic strife, and migration, in part reproduced or created a sense of ethnic minority.

Many Uzbeks face a number of challenges on a daily basis. Primarily, such difficulties affect the economically active who suffer constant pressure and intimidation from state authorities and criminals alike. As a result, businesspeople have resorted to developing different kinds of creative strategies to keep their business secure. Measures include moving trade from the bazaar to the mahallas, using mobile phones for passenger bookings from the bus station and airport, and avoiding selling to or serving potentially ‘suspicious’ clients. Uzbeks do not openly avoid developing businesses within their economic niche; rather they attempt to turn their existing niche into a safer place employing practices that remain invisible to the Kyrgyz community. As such, they safeguard their businesses. Some businesses have been turned into ‘safe’ social projects, such as schools, hospitals, and mosques (Ismailbekova, 2018).

Searching for Security, Part I: Countering Suyun Ömürzakov’s ‘Mafia’ Network

I start my analysis by first discussing Suyun Ömürzakov. Police Major General Suyun Ömürzakov, the First Deputy Minister of Interior of the Kyrgyz Republic, has low-level authority amongst local businessmen despite having a higher authority in law enforcement agencies. Suyun Ömürzakov is the owner of several sport clubs in Osh, where he trains local sportsmen.

On 12 September 2018, Azattyk’s correspondents conducted a journalistic investigation into crimes of which sportsmen from this club were suspected of committing, and published the outcome of that story. An important investigation was conducted on Ömürzakov’s family. As noted in the story, the Muhammed–Umar sports club is owned by the brother of the Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs of the Kyrgyz Republic, Suyun Ömürzakov, an employee of Osh’s regional prosecutor’s office, Uluk Ömürzakov (Isakov, 2018).

Another investigation, entitled ‘Are Ömürzakov’s sportsmen enjoying immunity in Osh?’, examined complaints by local businessmen about Ömürzakov’s raiding activities in Osh. Victims reported that, after these events, businessmen were threatened by Uluk Ömürzakov and attempted to force them to recant their statements; a criminal case was subsequently opened against businessmen in an attempt to silence them (Nurmatov, 2016).

In November 2020, Ulukbek Ömürzakov was detained in Osh by the State Committee for National Security officers. He is suspected of possibly organising a raid on a coal deposit (Zhol-Chirak and Co). Together with the prosecutor, law enforcement officers detained an additional four individuals from the Mukhammed–Umar sports club, ‘seizing special equipment, they illegally mined and sold more than 82 million soms (~US$918 000) worth of coal without making the appropriate tax and social payments’ (Elgezit.kg, 2020). During a meeting with Japarov, local residents provided information that the Ömürzakov family mafia had taken over the entire southern capital (Today.kg, 2021).

According to Aftandil, shared during our Zoom meeting, ‘Jeenbekov and Ömürzakov belong to the same mafia, because both come from the Kara–Kulja district. Ömürzakov is a millionaire, and he used to share his profit “dolya” with Jeenbekov's Kara–Kulja fund. So, they are related and Jeenbekov has protected Ömürzakov all these years.’

An owner of an Uzbek restaurant, Muhamed told me on the phone that‚ Suyun Ömürzakov has been robbing businessmen.

I was threatened by sportsmen and the militia because they asked me to sell my restaurant in the centre. Sadyr has the “courage” and is not afraid of Ömürzakov (Uluk Ömürzakov was imprisoned). It is acceptable if Sadyr is illiterate, even if he does not know Russian, even if he is a bandit, but he had strong “courage” (duh). Entrepreneurs just need stability in the government. Criminals are being arrested. Order seems to be coming here. But, we have to see how things will develop further’. (Informant 1)

Many Uzbeks viewed the arrest of Suyun Ömürzakov's younger brother in particular as a sign of strength and Japarov’s overconfidence. Locals argued that, for the safety of the restaurant owners, the arrest was a kind of sign. But, things became more complicated later because Suyun Ömürzakov worked so hard during the presidential elections to get more votes from the south by mobilising his people to save his younger brother from prison.

On 30 January 2021 immediately following Japarov’s inauguration, Ulukbek Ömürzakov was released on his own recognizance. His lawyer, Ikramidin Aitkulov, told Azattyk that this decision was made by the Bishkek Pervomaiskiy District Court on 30 January. According to him, the suspect’s defence asked the court to release him under house arrest by paying 20 million som (~US$224 000) to the state budget (Azattyk, 2021; Sputnik.kg, 2021).

Another Uzbek informant confirmed this, stating,

See Jeenbekov was neither meat nor fish; he did not have ‘duh’ (courage). He did not even say anything to Matraimov. Instead, Japarov said ‘kusturam’ (vomit), and he did it by asking Matraimov to bring back 2 billion som. Now, Uluk paid 2 million som to the government.

Whether there has been some negotiation between Ömürzakov and Japarov’s team, which remains unclear, may be the reason his younger brother was released, given that Ömürzakov demonstrated his loyalty to Japarov.

Searching for Security, Part II: Countering Corruption Through ‘Dolya’ (Share)

Akbar, the owner of several cafés, supported and voted for Japarov because he stated that he would fight corruption, saying he would specifically eliminate the system of ‘dolya’ (shares of business profits given to state authorities). Akbar also opined that Japarov was in prison and could experience injustice through his skin (jon terisi menen otkorgon) along with the difficulties of life. Considering the situation amongst Uzbek businessmen, Akbar further stated, ‘We have to follow what the government says to protect our business. We would not go against the government.’

When I asked whether any changes had occurred since Japarov’s presidency, Akbar responded positively. The younger brother of Ormonov Japar, chairman of the city council, had formerly been the chief of the police of Osh district. He collected ‘dolya’, beginning with ‘seed’ (semechki) sellers, car washing services, oil change services, food services, catering, shops, and other small businesses. When Albek Ormonov visited for the first time, he invited each businessman to his office through the precinct officer and openly declared that they should share their profits (dolya suragan) as a way to ‘congratulate him on his new position’ (kuttuktap).

Akbar gave him about 2000 som (US$25), stating that he only had that amount of money available. Every businessman also gave their telephone numbers. Depending upon a specific need, they would then be called. For example, at times Albek Ormonov would ask for 2 kg of meat, and once each month he would order pilaf (rice dish; in Uzbek, ‘ash’) for six to seven of his friends without paying for anything. In addition, other precinct officers would demand that café owners prepare some food (like ash pilaf or fried meat, potatoes, onions, vegetables or ‘dymdama’) for them. He not only threatened local businessmen, but also state officials, saying ‘I heard you won the tender. Where is my share (dolya)?’ Fortunately, this person was fired, and the new precinct officer seems to be a state official (taza bala eken).

Another businessman, Alisher, explained the electricity grid.

I have an electrical capacity of 20 kilowatts for my restaurant, for which I paid 120 000 som (US$1343). But, in winter, I exceed 20 kilowatts because I need heat and have other additional needs. In summer, I must keep the ice cream and other products cold. So, in winter or summer we always exceed 20 kilowatts. An electricity inspector would immediately come to me and ask for additional money as dolya. The electricity inspector gives me the option of either paying the full fine to the government or half the fine to him. Of course, I would choose paying half the fine to the electricity inspector.

Apparently, it is not possible to achieve 30 to 40 kilowatts. Otherwise, state authorities would lose their money (kormushka). Instead, they grant only 20 kilowatts, with inspectors taking any violations into their own hands. For anything above 30 kilowatts, the state requires a transformation, which would cost about 500 000 som (~US$5600). Moreover, one should also get permission for the building inspector, a technical inspection, the village head, and, finally, the community’s consent. Thus, obtaining a transformation is not easy, such that businessmen must remain within 20 kilowatts, paying for the remainder as dolya.

Another Uzbek informant explained that, compared to criminals, the militia is described using a local term cheeky (nahalnyi) and do not understand businesspeople’s situations. The thieves’ law is quite strict compared to the state law. You can buy the militia, but it is rather difficult to buy criminals. Yet, Uzbek businessmen also provide ‘dolya’ to street boys (köchö baldar) and collect ‘grev’ (a remittance or a package) for prisoners, particularly for the ‘bratva’ (criminal leaders). Businessmen donate a small amount of money (for food, cigarettes, and soap) to prisoners. The state budget cannot cover the basic needs for schools and healthcare let alone prisoners. Apparently, the names of all cafés and restaurants in Otmetka are registered. Businessmen describe criminals more humanely and they're not cheeky (oni ne naglye), understanding that business is not good and they should wait a bit.

Three of my informants told me that the ‘nahalyni’ militia is not coming to them thus far, already a indicating a positive shift. In 2020, when we began our research, much uncertainty surrounded the future direction of politics in Kyrgyzstan. During that time, many in the business community were unsure about what would come next (sostoinia ojidanie). Now, three years after Japarov took office, things have become clearer. Under his leadership, Kyrgyzstan has moved towards a more stable and defined political path. This is quite different from previous years when criminal groups seemed more influential than the government itself. Japarov’s administration established an authoritarian regime, reduced the power of these criminal networks, and decided to benefit from businessmen themselves under the umbrella of ‘fighting corruption’. As a result, today’s businesspeople must deal directly with Japarov and his team. If they do not, they could face new unofficial policies like ‘kusturizatsia’. This shift in how power and governance work represents a significant change from the earlier period of uncertainty when businesspeople often relied on criminal networks for support when the state was unable to deliver security. Japarov’s rise to power has created a tricky situation for businessmen. On the one hand, he provides security; on the other hand, he can also be a source of insecurity to them. This has transformed the relationship between businessmen and Japarov’s government into a complex negotiation. How businessmen navigate this delicate balance within the limited space they have can greatly impact their future success and opportunities.

Japarov’s Governance: Kusturizatsia and Corruption

I begin this section by defining the term kusturizatsia, which literally means ‘vomiting’. In practice, corrupt individuals can repay a fraction of stolen proceeds to the state and, then, go about their business. No one knows definitively where the money goes.

The Soviet imperial legacy comes into view, particularly in these locally developed informal practices. The recently emerged concept ‘kusturizatsia’ in Kyrgyzstan is one such example. Kusturizatsia, in Kyrgyz meaning ‘vomiting’, refers to those who damage the state through corrupt practices and economic crimes (such as stealing from the state budget or not paying taxes), and are then forced to compensate the state when discovered.

When corrupt practices are detected, the perpetrators (primarily influential politicians and prominent businessmen) are granted time to voluntarily pay compensation for the damage to the stat; otherwise, they face possible detention. Thus, kusturizatsia is essentially the legalisation of corrupt activities by prominent businessmen and politicians representing the state. It occurs beyond the rule of law, although Japarov has referred to it as ‘economic amnesty’.

The main bodies in charge of this process are the State Committee for National Security (SCNS) and the Office of the President. These sectors decide whether to legalise an individual’s corruption. Kusturizatsia occurs between three parties: the businessman/politician (the thief), the president, and the security services. In simpler terms, a thief admits that he stole money and those who caught the thief (Head of the SCNS Kamchybek Tashiev and President Japarov) demand that he returns (‘vomits’) the stolen money back to the state.

Kusturizatsia as a term has become popular within Kyrgyz society, particularly in the mainstream media, and is frequently used by political analysts. The term has become widely understood because of its simple comprehensibility. Kusturizatsia carries negative connotations, with vomiting associated with dirt, disease, and indigestion. People do not want to witness a person vomiting because they find it disgusting. However, the term also implies that those who are caught vomiting are associated with the notion of shame, and publicly identified as corrupt. As a result, despite the negative connotations, the term is associated with the idea of justice and, therefore, popular. It is reminiscent of ‘gaming the system’, namely, that of ‘winning some advantage by acting against the spirit of the formal’ (Hanson, 2018, p. 181). The president plays the role of the ‘saviour’ and righteously forces the thieves to ‘vomit’ in front of the public. People seem content for the corrupt to be shamed and are happy to know that a billion soms have been reportedly paid in compensation, far more than in the years before this practice. But, in general, people are not that interested in the complex details, especially what goes on within the negotiations between the thieves and the state and what trades take place.Footnote 1

Despite the popularity of the term and practice amongst average Kyrgyz, kusturizatsia is questioned and regarded with suspicion by many prominent lawyers and political scientists. There is a shared concern amongst critical observers regarding where the funds from the kusturizatsia process actually go.

As Nurbek Toktakunov, a Kyrgyz lawyer, remarked on social media in 2021‚ the compensation paid by thieves for their crimes under this scheme are not transferred to the state budget. ‘The funds remain uncontrolled and, as a rule, plundered,’ he wrote. ‘The “kusturizatsia” is stolen or used for the narrow political purposes of the ruling elite.’Footnote 2

As Emilbek Joroev, a political scientist, wrote in a Facebook post earlier this year, ‘[I]n a country where due process supposedly applies, a country with judicial, procedural law enforcement as well as other checks and balances, the operation of kusturizatsia is more dirty, more shameful, more corrupt, and an act that goes against the law and the principles of justice.’Footnote 3

Why do Kyrgyzstan’s leaders prefer to use this method of fining corrupt individuals rather than using available legal means? Kusturizatsia simultaneously functions in conjunction with a variety of legal and administrative tools, particularly judicial rulings, whilst circumventing other rule of law structures that ought to apply to the corrupt.

As Joroev argued in his Facebook post, these excision operations occur in the shadows. Thus, kusturizatsia is a simple solution to a complex problem. None of the parties involved want to provide complete transparency to the public, such as that which would occur in a full-fledged trial.

‘Are we to believe the rumours that the leaders “vomit twice as much as they eat” if not the slightest bit of information is provided?’, he wrote. Furthermore, Joroev offers an interesting bit of analysis:

Due to its secret and shadowy nature, on the one hand, it has become a way for the really serious thieves to bargain inside the system and get ‘clean’ by giving back a little. However, this practice has turned into another bait plate for the ‘vomiting’ parties.Footnote 4

The kusturizatsia policy has also reportedly led to a flight of investors from Kyrgyzstan. This not only applies to foreign investors but domestic investors who are also leaving the country. In a December 2021 parliamentary budget hearing, MP Muradyl Mademinov criticised the policy, saying it had prompted even ‘slightly self-respecting’ investors to leave. ‘Even citizens of Kyrgyzstan are leaving,’ he said, claiming that ‘they are leaving in droves’ for Kazakhstan, Turkey, and Uzbekistan.Footnote 5

As the above-mentioned analysts rightly argue, there are more questions than answers surrounding kusturizatsia. First of all, there is no transparent information about the funds, particularly regarding how much money has been placed in the budget or how it has been spent. There is no reason to believe that the funds returned via kusturizatsia are not themselves also plundered. Second, not everyone is offered this golden opportunity to reimburse the state; the eligibility criteria remain a mystery. Third, as noted above, the policy has arguably led to investors fleeing Kyrgyzstan en masse for more predictable markets abroad. However, we do not know the full extent of the impact on Kyrgyzstan’s economy and reputation.

One source responded to my question about the impact of criminal groups on business activities by laughing, commenting, ‘We have our own two bandits in our country,’—a reference to Tashiev and Japarov—and they are making trouble for businessmen. Rumours circulate that much money is flowing out of Kyrgyzstan on a daily basis, and many companies allegedly continue to pay the security services both formally and informally for a ‘green light’ to do business.

Based on my interviews with three businessmen who have engaged in kusturizatsia, I found that for each the process differed depending upon the willingness of the businessmen to negotiate with the authorities.

One entrepreneur from Osh, Arman, is a prominent businessman with many cafés, bars, and catering businesses. He was arrested and detained for several days over concerns about his previous tax filings. He was required to pay compensation of 3 million soms (~US$33 500) in lieu of taxes. After promptly paying the compensation, he was released fairly quickly following his arrest.

Another businessman explained that he attempts to maintain a low profile and avoid any conflict with the authorities. He tries to follow the new rules of the tax system, although he complained that ‘business in Kyrgyzstan has become less profitable. I have to pay almost 1 million soms (~US$11 000) in taxes.’ As a consequence, he has begun dividing his medium-sized business into smaller enterprises.

In the worst-case scenario, a businessman can lose his entire business if forced to share it with individuals close to government agencies, as we find in the case of Timur. Timur owned a business distributing cement and bricks from Kyrgyzstan to other Central Asian countries. When he resisted, he lost his entire business. This took place rather creatively: the director of the supply company he had long engaged with suddenly refused to sell Timur goods, saying that he had found a new business partner. The company director asked Timur to understand that he was forced to sell goods to another unidentified person in the same industry. If the director refused, the state agencies would pressure him with fines for administrative violations. Thus, the director was compelled to cooperate with the new business partner, not necessarily one of his own choosing, in order to protect his own company from seizure.

The concept of kusturisatsia has become popular and widespread in Kyrgyzstan, forcing businessmen to share their profits with the president and the security services in an opaque manner. This has forced other businessmen to seek alternatives, either through negotiation or compromise. Some have chosen to split up or sell their businesses in an attempt to avoid confrontation with the state and choose to pay taxes legally, despite experiencing huge losses. The state, on the other hand, manipulates the formal rules and procedures (law enforcement agencies and the courts) to its own advantage, maintaining the existing system and making sure that it works only for state power and not necessarily as a rule of law for all.

Concluding remarks

The political landscape in Kyrgyzstan is characterised by a high degree of dynamism, largely stemming from its competitive political culture, which has led to a series of revolutions. Within this context, each successive president has introduced their own distinctive informal strategies aimed at combating corruption whilst concurrently consolidating power and resources under their purview. Along this vein, Japarov is no exception.

One notable informal practice introduced by Japarov is referred to as ‘kusturisatsia’, which primarily targets corrupt state officials and businessmen. This policy has a two-pronged approach. On the one hand, it aims to force corrupt individuals to provide some of their ill-begotten gains back to the state, theoretically benefiting the public. However, the way this policy is implemented is not transparent, leading to secretive negotiations that take place behind closed doors of which the public is unaware. This makes it challenging to fully understand by adding a layer of complexity to its assessment and impact.

Businessmen have exhibited a remarkable adaptability in their interactions with various governing regimes over time. In other words, they have established their own distinct securityscape strategies. In particular, businessmen have demonstrated an astute capacity to navigate the shifting political landscapes, effectively engaging with these regimes on their own terms whilst pursuing their own vested interests. When the government was unable to provide them with the support they needed, some businessmen turned to criminal networks for assistance. On the flip side, when the influence of criminal networks diminished and uncertain government authorities took charge, businessmen adapted to this new situation. This adaptation took various forms and shifted depending upon the situation. Some businesspeople went along with the government’s rules, although not always happily. Others paid more than they had originally planned. Some even decided to leave and seek better opportunities elsewhere. This demonstrates that businesspeople have used a range of strategies to deal with the shifting political realities they face. Those who are successful know the rules of the game and play according to the rules.