‘What have you done, brother Putin?’: Everyday geopolitics and Central Asian labour migration to Russia

ABSTRACT

The geopolitical positioning of Central Asia as the centre of the ‘Eurasian Heartland’ has been the subject of extensive debates in academic and policy circles over the last three decades. However, the mainstream geopolitical narratives on Central Asia tend to focus on grand-level geopolitical players and discourses, thereby reducing the region and its populations to passive entities without any agency. Not much has been said about how these grand-level narratives are reflected and operate within the micro-level, everyday spaces, relationships and experiences of ordinary people. This paper addresses this lacuna by examining the everyday, micro-level discourses and experiences of geopolitics amongst Uzbek migrant workers in Russia and their left-behind families in Uzbekistan – a form of ‘everyday geopolitics’. The paper is based on a transnational ethnography of Uzbek migrant workers in Russia and in their home village in Uzbekistan, conducted between January 2014 and November 2019.

KEYWORDS:

• everyday geopolitics
• Uzbek migrants
• Russia
• migration
• Central Asia

Introduction

Geopolitics, with its focus on grand-level narratives, broader politics and inter-state relations, has long dominated discussions surrounding global power dynamics in Central Asia. The region is often viewed as a battleground for major world powers, leading to the narrative of the ‘new Great Game’. This narrative highlights the geopolitical competition between superpowers such as Russia, the United States and China, as they vie for dominance in the region. Scholars often describe Central Asia as a passive actor caught between Russia’s influence and the ambitions of other global powers (e.g., Smith 1996; Allison and Jonson 2001; Rashid 2002; Weitz 2006; Brzezinski 2016).

It should, however, be noted that the aforesaid grand narratives often overlook the perspectives and experiences of ordinary individuals whose lives are intricately intertwined with geopolitical processes. As a result, the Central Asian region and its populations are reduced to passive entities without any agency, thereby neglecting the grassroots-level ‘micro-geopolitical’ processes and discourses. Only a handful of studies covering Central Asia and the wider post-socialist region have investigated how these grand-level narratives and processes are reflected and operate within the micro-level, everyday spaces and experiences of ordinary people (Megoran and Sharapova 2005; Reeves 2009; 2013a; Jansen 2009; Morris 2016; Pfoser and Yusupova 2022). The most notable example is a special issue on ‘everyday diplomacy’ with a specific focus on Central Asia (Marsden 2016). We will contribute to these existing studies with novel empirical insights on how everyday geopolitics is lived and enacted through the everyday experiences of Uzbek migrants in Russia and their left-behind families in Uzbekistan. Research on labour migration from Central Asia has extensively examined the everyday lives of migrants and their families, in both their home and host countries. These studies have discussed on how migrants navigate the legally opaque environment (Reeves 2013b; Urinboyev 2020), establish social networks through mosques (Turaeva 2019) or ethnic connections (Demintseva 2017), and lead transnational lives (Urinboyev 2021). Additionally, research has demonstrated how labour migration can transform social spaces, impacting gender roles (Reeves 2013a) and local economies (Reeves 2012; 2013a; Laruelle 2013). However, in the broader context of post-Soviet labour migration, limited attention has been given to understanding how grand-level geopolitical dynamics and narratives are imagined, reconstructed, and renegotiated within the everyday lives of migrant workers.

Filling this research gap is particularly important given that the everyday lives and experiences of Central Asian people have become highly mobile and transnational given the large-scale migratory processes taking place in the post-Soviet space. Today, three decades after the collapse of the Soviet Union, millions of Central Asians travel to Russia as migrant workers and increasingly rely on migrant labour to secure their basic livelihood needs. Central Asian migrants, ‘simultaneously situated’ in both their host country (Russia) and their society of origin (Central Asia), continue to form a part of the fabric of everyday life and social relations in their home country, whilst also becoming part of the socio-economic processes in their host country, thereby making home and host societies a single arena for social action. These transnational linkages are multistranded and entwined in the lived experiences of migrants as well as the families and communities they leave behind. Considering the magnitude and intensity of these processes, questions linger regarding the implications these large-scale migratory trends and transnational experiences have on existing geopolitical discourses and understandings; regarding how they reproduce, intersect with or redefine the grand-level geopolitical narratives described above; and regarding what theoretical inferences can be made about the role and power of migration as a mechanism of ‘everyday geopolitics’ which renegotiate geopolitical boundaries and power relations.

The above considerations informed our position in this paper. Here, we examine the everyday, micro-level discourses and experiences of geopolitics amongst Uzbek migrant workers in Russia and their left-behind families in Uzbekistan – a form of everyday geopolitics we illustrate in this article. To do so, we focus on the case of Uzbek migrants, given that they constitute the largest share of foreign workers in Russia. According to 2022 statistics, there were about 1.45 million Uzbek migrants in Russia.¹ Simultaneously, Uzbekistan, the most populous and centrally located country in Central Asia, experienced dynamic relations with Russia over the last two decades, at once attempting to undermine Moscow’s geopolitical dominance in the region whilst also closely cooperating with Kremlin initiatives. As a part of our research, we have had the privilege of conducting transnational ethnography amongst Uzbek migrant workers in Russia and in their home village in Uzbekistan for over five years (Urinboyev 2021). Therefore, this paper draws upon fieldwork reflections, notes and experiences to examine the everyday geopolitics – that is, how grand-level geopolitical narratives and processes operate and are renegotiated in the everyday spaces, relationships and experiences of ordinary people. In other words, we examine the ‘everyday “micro-political” operations and materialities’ (Slesinger 2016) that are performed and experienced by migrants and their left-behind families and communities. Through this lens, we shed light on the discrepancies between official geopolitical discourses and the perceptions and experiences of those distanced from centres of power.

In our study, we propose an approach that considers Central Asian labour migration in Russia as arenas of everyday geopolitics, which intersect, challenge and renegotiate grand-level geopolitical narratives, discourses and strategies. This perspective enables us to develop a nuanced understanding of how the perceptions, daily experiences, cultural practices, livelihood strategies, and emotions of migrants and their left-behind families and communities play a central role in shaping notions of territorial belonging. Moreover, it highlights the contestations over the meaning of sovereignty and the borders between Russia and the Central Asian states that arise within these contexts. Furthermore, we argue that these everyday experiences of geopolitics can be seen as expressions of dissatisfaction with the state’s economic and social policies, albeit without overtly challenging the state’s images and legitimacy. This nuanced approach allows us to explore the subtle ways in which individuals assert their agency and negotiate their positions within the broader geopolitical landscape.

The remainder of this article is organized as follows. In the next section, we present our conceptual framework, namely the everyday geopolitics scholarship. The third section examines the methodological considerations that underpin our research approach. The fourth section discusses the geopolitics of Uzbek labour migration to Russia. The fifth and sixth sections present the results of our ethnographic study, in which we illustrate how grand-level geopolitical narratives and processes are reflected and renegotiated in the everyday lives of ordinary migrant-sending families in Uzbekistan and amongst Uzbek migrants in Moscow. Finally, the last section describes the implications of the ethnographic material for relevant scholarly debates and highlights the most important findings from our study.

Conceptualizing everyday geopolitics

In this article, we draw upon the insights developed within critical geopolitics (Dalby 2008; Pain and Smith 2008) as a conceptual framework to understand how geopolitical relations, struggles and interactions also operate in everyday spaces, social relationships and cultural activities of people. Combining these perspectives allows us to conceptualize migrants’ and their left-behind families’ lifestyles and experiences not only as instances of migrant transnationalism, but also as everyday geopolitical spaces where political discussions and geographical and territorial imaginings take place.

A central argument put forward in critical geopolitics scholarship is that geopolitics should be seen as something occurring each day beyond policymaking and academic discourses. Challenging the classical geopolitical theory grounded in grand-level political narratives, elite discourses and foreign policy centrism (Coleman 2013) argues for the necessity of moving away from state-centric perspectives of geopolitics. This move situates the focus, then, on the more mundane although no less political processes of daily experiences (Hyndman 2001; Dittmer and Gray 2010; Dixon and Marston 2011; Cowen and Story 2013). Such a research agenda has led to an extensive academic literature on geopolitics in everyday life over the last three decades, highlighting the gaps in the state-centric perspectives of geopolitics, including, for example, as everyday practice (Dittmer and Gray 2010), popular culture (Sharp 2000), identity (Campbell 1998) and spectacles (Miller and Del Casino 2020).

Thus, equipped with the critical geopolitics framework, we can infer that we cannot satisfactorily explore the geopolitical dynamics and nuances in Central Asia without considering the everyday ways, practices, and processes in which people live and experience geopolitics. Many people in Central Asia, pursuing a mobile lifestyle and simultaneously situated in two geographical contexts, are part of the daily political, economic, social and cultural processes in both Central Asia and Russia. With this in mind, in our study we argue for the need to approach Central Asian labour migration in Russia as sites of everyday geopolitics that may intersect with, challenge or renegotiate grand-level geopolitical narratives, discourses and strategies. This approach allows for a nuanced understanding of how migrants and their left-behind families and communities’ perceptions, daily experiences, cultural practices, livelihood strategies, and emotions become central to territorial belonging and raise contestations over the meaning of sovereignty and the borders between Russia and the Central Asian states. The existence of such everyday experiences of geopolitics may be regarded as an attempt by the population to express their dissatisfaction with the failure of the state’s economic and social policies without openly challenging the images and legitimacy of the state. We illustrate these processes through our ethnographic material in the sections that follow.

Methodological considerations

Methodologically, we draw upon a multi-sited transnational ethnography of Uzbek migrant workers in Russia and in their home village in Uzbekistan. Our methodological choice was driven by the understanding that ethnography is the most appropriate methodology for studying ‘everyday geopolitics’ since it enables us to collect evidence on the everyday ways in which people live geopolitics (Müller 2009), an insight often neglected in the analysis of grand-level geopolitical narratives on Central Asia. We conducted ethnographic research for a total of 14 months, collecting data during multiple fieldwork trips to Moscow, Russia, and the Fergana Valley, Uzbekistan, between January 2014 and November 2019. It is important to note that each fieldwork trip lasted from several days to a couple of weeks, accumulating a cumulative total of 14 months of data collection. Data collection was carried out by one or both of the authors, depending on the specific cases and circumstances. These field sites were chosen because Moscow is the capital city and largest metropolis in Russia, featuring the highest number of migrant workers. Likewise, we chose the Fergana Valley because it is the primary migrant-sending region in Uzbekistan, given its population density and high unemployment rate. We (both co-authors), owing to our Uzbek origin and cultural competence, as well as our language skills (Uzbek and Russian), had direct access to the social spaces and daily lives of Uzbek migrant communities in Moscow and their left-behind families and communities in the Fergana Valley. At the same time, we were aware that our positionality also carries potential biases and limitations, as our insider status may have influenced our interpretations and favoured certain perspectives over others. We actively reflected on our own subjectivity, biases, and preconceived notions throughout the analysis process to minimize potential distortions in our interpretations.

The ethnographic material was primarily collected through observations and informal interviews, all of which were conducted in the Uzbek language. We also maintained regular contact with informants over smartphone-based instant messaging applications such as Telegram Messenger, WhatsApp and IMO. In Moscow, we focused on migrants’ everyday lives, conversations and transnational practices, their views on the Russian state and society, their understanding of the political relations between Russia and Uzbekistan, and their interpretations of political events both in their home and host countries. In the Fergana Valley, our observations and informal interviews focused on villagers’ daily transnational interactions with migrants in Russia, the impact of remittances on villagers’ everyday lives, assessments of the role of the Uzbek state and local peoples’ understandings of Russia’s role in their lives. During each fieldwork visit to Moscow and Fergana, we interacted with several dozens of migrants and their families and community members. Our informants in Moscow were mostly male migrants, whereas, in Fergana, our informants were primarily women and elderly people of both genders. However, due to the focus and specific research objectives of the paper, the insights and experiences of female participants are not extensively discussed or cited. The choice of citations and references in the paper reflects the relevance to the specific topic and research questions being explored. However, it is crucial to recognize that this approach may limit a comprehensive understanding of gender dynamics and the experiences of women within the context of migrant workers. To ensure maximum anonymity, we have changed the names and specific locations of the informants, and only the most general information about the informants and fieldwork sites is provided.

Our data collection process primarily occurred before the onset of Russia’s war against Ukraine. As a result, this study does not encompass the evolving dynamics and shifts in how people in Central Asia may have come to perceive Russia’s role as a potential aggressor against their countries since February 2022.

The geopolitics of Uzbek labour migration to Russia

Migration has become one of the defining characteristics of relations between Russia and the Central Asian countries. With about 36 million people, Uzbekistan is the most populous and the largest migrant-sending country in the region. Mass unemployment and significantly lower salaries represent the primary reasons for migration. Combined with economic problems, an ever-growing population as well as diminished land and water resources all push many Uzbeks to find jobs in other countries. Although trends in recent years reveal a growing share of female migrants, men still constitute 80–85% of Uzbek migrants in Russia. For millions of Uzbeks, higher salaries, the availability of jobs, and existing sociocultural and communication links render Russia the destination of choice for migration (Eraliev and Urinboyev 2020). In the early 2000s, migration was initially seen as a forced choice amongst poor and needy people in order to cover their basic needs. Gradually, people, even from relatively well-off families, embraced migration as a way of life. Today, with some exceptions in industrial towns and large cities, it is rather rare to meet a family with at least one member who has not been involved in migration in some way (Urinboyev 2020).

Understanding that even rapid economic growth would not accommodate the abundance of the labour force in the country, officials in Uzbekistan, following the death of President Islam Karimov in 2016, began viewing labour migration as a benevolent action that eases pressure on the local labour market and brings hard currency in the form of remittances. In line with that, officials are involved in negotiating with Russian counterparts to ease the life of Uzbek migrants whilst simultaneously attempting to diversify destinations for its citizens to other countries. However, this has not always been the case. Whilst governments in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, two other migrant-sending countries in the region, were attempting to accommodate the needs of their citizens in Russia through negotiations with the host country’s authorities (although not always successfully), the government of Islam Karimov, who ruled Uzbekistan with an iron fist for a quarter century (1991–2016), did not officially recognize migration as an issue (Urinboyev 2017). Rather than acknowledging the positive role external labour migration played in improving people’s livelihoods, the Uzbek government viewed migrants working in Russia as a disgrace to the Uzbek nation. As a result, migrants working in Russia were seen as ungrateful citizens who left Uzbekistan for Russia in search of ‘big money’.

Uzbek migrants face discrimination, xenophobia and precarity in their everyday lives in Russia. Whilst Uzbeks enjoy visa-free entry to Russia, they must obtain patents (work permit) to work legally. Obtaining a patent is bureaucratically complicated and financially burdensome for most Uzbek migrants coming in search of money and with little understanding of how Russian bureaucracy works (Schenk 2020). Because many migrants fail to obtain patents, they end up working without documents and are pushed into the shadow economy, an offence sufficiently serious to warrant the deportation of a migrant from the country. Depicted as dangerous and illicit in Russian domestic politics, migrants nevertheless provide cheap labour for the Russian economy and compensate for a declining population. Moreover, Moscow uses migration to exert influence on neighbouring countries that remain dependent on the Russian labour market (Eraliev and Urinboyev 2020).

Another tool for such influence in Russia’s policies can be found in the use of the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU), a Moscow-dominated integration organization that includes Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Russia. EAEU allows for the free flow of capital, goods, services and labour. Thus, citizens of member states remain theoretically equal to local citizens in terms of formalizing employment. For example, citizens of Kyrgyzstan are exempt from needing to obtain a patent in Russia. EAEU is a successor to Moscow’s integration projects, the Eurasian Economic Community (EEC) (2000–14), and the Customs Union (2010–14). Uzbekistan’s late President Islam Karimov always viewed Russia’s integration policies as a threat to his country’s sovereignty and strove to resist such policies whenever possible. Even Uzbekistan’s short-term membership in the EEC between 2005 and 2008 was a symbolic and temporary measure for Tashkent in its attempts to leverage membership against Western pressure following the government’s excessive use of force in response to unrest in Andijan in 2005. Ultimately, Karimov withdrew Uzbekistan from the EEC as soon as he felt comfortable enough to withstand foreign pressure. As Zanca (2018) writes, ‘Karimov’s capricious responses to Russian overtures regarding military and economic alliances made him appear to be a true champion of the nation and bolstered his status as its father figure’ (279).

Naturally, the Kremlin held several cards that allowed it to exert influence on Central Asian countries, and, as mentioned above, migration served as one of those trump cards forcing Central Asian governments to accept Moscow’s rules. Knowing that the return of millions of migrant workers could lead to social upheaval, Moscow could skilfully use the migrant populations when needed. Such examples include threatening to expel a large number of Tajik migrants, which forced the Tajik government to release Russian pilots with dubious reputations (2011) or to extend the lease of a Russian military base in Tajikistan (2012). Kyrgyzstan’s only win from accession to the EAEU lay in the hope of improving its migrants’ lives in Russia. Moscow’s these, and other attempts to influence political developments in Central Asian countries were seen by many in the region as a part of Russian strategy aimed at rebuilding a new form of neo-colonial relations.

Yet, Karimov did not want to play by these rules. Although remittances sent from Russia positively impacted and improved the lives of impoverished families across Uzbekistan, Karimov’s government neither officially endorsed nor allowed public discussions regarding the challenges and opportunities accompanying migration. Karimov opposed any idea of joining integration projects offered by Russia. He even adopted two constitutional laws banning the country from joining any political blocs. During his meeting with farmers in the Jizzakh province in 2014, Karimov openly condemned Uzbek citizens who left their home country for Russia in search of ‘big money’, making it clear that Uzbekistan can survive without migrant remittances:

Now, there are very few lazy people in Uzbekistan. I consider those who sweep streets and squares in Moscow as lazy people. It is disgusting that Uzbeks go there to earn bread. No one is dying of hunger in Uzbekistan. I should tell you that once when I worked in Tashkent [referring to Soviet times], I used to go to Eski Juva [bazaar] on Sundays. […] I was accustomed to giving alms to beggars. I felt relieved when I helped them. […] But, these days, when I go there, it is not possible to find any beggars there. We must thank God we don’t have such people [now]. Are there such people with outstretched hands in Jizzakh? [Audience unanimously: No!] Pay attention to that. I pay attention and when I go to places, I ask if there are such people. No. Honour won’t let them do this [begging]. Asking for alms with outstretched hands hurts one’s dignity. What makes Uzbeks stand out among others? Honour and dignity! Isn’t it [begging] equal to death? I call lazy those people who go there [to Russia] to make ‘big money’ faster and thus bring us disgrace [ … ].²

Putting aside whether Karimov truly believed there were no beggars left in Uzbekistan, in part, this narrative sent a clear message to Moscow: calling migrants ‘lazy people’, he sought to negate the Kremlin’s possible use of Uzbek migrants as a tool of geopolitical influence. Karimov’s labelling of migrants as ‘lazy people’ was a way of downplaying and renegotiating Russia’s increasing geopolitical influence through migration. Until his death in September 2016, Karimov did not change his rhetoric.

As scholars have argued, Karimov’s leadership shaped Uzbekistan’s trajectory with a combination of nationalism, isolationism and a focus on self-reliance (Fazendeiro 2017; Laruelle 2021). During his reign, Uzbekistan maintained strained relationships with neighbouring countries and global powers. While having closer ties with Russia due to shared economic interests and Tashkent’s geopolitical dependence on Moscow, Uzbekistan generally avoided close engagement with its immediate neighbours (Zanca 2018).

Following the death of Islam Karimov in 2016, the new Uzbek leadership shifted the country’s approaches, amongst others, to migration and to its foreign policy. The relationship between Uzbekistan and Russia across various issues has further intensified since Shavkat Mirziyoyev became the new president. Bringing Uzbekistan to the EAEU was again on the table. This led to heated discussions amongst Uzbek intellectuals and civil society members. For many young, educated Uzbeks, EAEU membership³ seriously threatens Uzbekistan’s independent policies. Yet, many migrants we encountered viewed Uzbekistan’s membership in the EAEU as a way to make their lives easier since they would be relieved of the obligation to obtain patents, an expensive and complicated process. These debates virtually divided public discussions on social network platforms into two opposing poles: supporters of and opponents of Uzbekistan’s membership in the EAEU.

As we have shown in this section, migration represents a key social and political arena in Uzbekistan, where state–society relations unfold in complex and contradictory ways. As Nagel (2002) maintains, migration is a geopolitical process revolving around spatial strategies and territorial arrangements, which may redefine the territory of the nation-state by bringing ‘the foreign’ within the boundaries of the nation. These processes involve complex negotiations over power and identity in everyday practices. In other words, migration can be viewed as ‘geopolitics by another name’ (Nagel 2002) or ‘the barometer of geopolitics’ (Hyndman 2012). Accordingly, a closer look at everyday life and social relations, migrants’ and their families’ experiences, and reflections may provide useful insights into the complex set of geopolitical discourses and narratives. Armed with this understanding, in the sections that follow, we present the results of our ethnographic study on migrants’ and their left-behind families and communities’ everyday conversations, practices, and experiences, demonstrating how these micro-level discourses and practices serve as sites of everyday geopolitics tightly interwoven with the grand-level geopolitical discourses and narratives.

Shabboda – a ‘Moscow village’

As a part of our transnational ethnography amongst Uzbek migrant workers in Moscow, Russia, and in their home village in Uzbekistan, we travelled to the Ferghana Valley of Uzbekistan to a village we call ‘Shabboda’ from which the majority of Uzbek migrants we met in Moscow originated. Shabboda is one of the many remittance-dependent villages in rural Fergana, where labour migration has become a widespread livelihood strategy in the post-Soviet period, a norm for young and able-bodied men. As a rule, families send their young men to Moscow, whilst women and the elderly remain in the village to care for children and households. Thus, during the ‘migration season’ (March–November), the majority of village residents consist of elderly people, women and children. In the words of villagers, Shabboda is a ‘Moscow village’, since the majority of villagers work in Moscow and given the existence of village-specific networks there. Furthermore, several villagers work as intermediaries in Moscow’s construction sector, serving as gatekeepers for villagers seeking access to the labour market. Young men who prefer to remain in the village during the migration season are usually viewed as lazy and abnormal by village residents, whereas those who work in Russia and regularly send money home enjoy a higher social status and greater respect.

This village-level interpretation of ‘lazy’ clearly contradicted the official rhetoric promoted by Islam Karimov. In daily conversations, the word ‘lazy’ was used in relation to those young people who remained in the village,⁴ illustrating how the official discourse was clearly contested during daily village-level discourses. Whilst Karimov’s regime regularly portrayed Uzbek citizens working in Russia as victims or money chasers, amongst villagers, migration has become a source of pride, since remittances allowed migrants and their families to demonstrate their success through buying cars, building houses, and celebrating weddings. No matter how arduous a migrant’s life might have been in Russia, when back at home (usually for annual holidays) they proudly talked about their work and life in Russia. In everyday conversations, it was not uncommon for a migrant speaking to his neighbours or friends in Uzbekistan to refer to Russia as his own country (‘in our Russia’). Many villagers, especially those with migrant labour experience in Russia, talked positively about Vladimir Putin and the Russian people, whilst expressing dissatisfaction with the economic decline in Uzbekistan. These discourses are particularly visible in the words of Akbar (male, 43), who spent 15 years of his life working in Moscow:

We are very lucky that we have Russia. I don’t know how we would survive and feed our kids if [Vladimir] Putin did not open the doors of Russia to us. It is impossible to live a normal life if you don’t work in Russia. Even if you find a job here in Fergana (Uzbekistan), you get a very low salary, and it is not even enough to meet your monthly living expenses. Look, I have been working in Russia since 2002, and I was able to buy a plot of land, build a house, purchase a new car, and arrange my daughter’s wedding. If I stayed here, I would have been one of the poorest in the mahalla. I am very grateful to Putin and the Russian people. The state is still alive in Russia, while in Uzbekistan the state died shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union.

Some of our informants were even more adamant in their dissatisfaction with the economic situation in Uzbekistan. One of the villagers, Pulat (male, 35), who worked for many years in Moscow, shared an anecdote about ‘Putin and Karimov’, illustrating the nexus between migration and geopolitics:

One day Karimov and Putin met in a Kremlin residence to discuss Russia–Uzbekistan relations. While talking, Karimov accidentally spilled his coffee. Putin immediately told to call a cleaner. Much to Karimov’s surprise, the cleaner was an Uzbek from Fergana, where many Uzbek migrants come from. Seeing Karimov’s surprise, Putin remarked that he had no choice but to hire an Uzbek cleaner. This was because Uzbeks are the largest migrant group in Russia, approximately two million, and control the cleaning business. ‘They are everywhere, and we don’t know how to manage millions of Uzbeks’, Putin said. ‘Soon, all Uzbeks will move to Russia, so no population will be left for you to rule in Uzbekistan’. Putin continued, ‘Since all of your Uzbek people are here, you should also move to Russia. I will give you an office in the Kremlin, and you can manage all your migrants yourself’.

This anecdote serves as a poignant example of how migration is a geopolitical process, reflected in migrant narratives and stories. By sharing this anecdote, our informant Pulat actually challenged the official state rhetoric by hinting at the failure of Karimov’s economic policies and the ever-growing Uzbek labour migration to Russia, contributing to Moscow’s geopolitical dominance in Central Asia. Echoing this anecdote, Olimjon (male, 62) openly stated his preference for some kind of union with Russia:

I don’t really understand what independence means. During the Soviet times, we all had jobs and our salaries were sufficient. When the soyuz [Soviet Union] fell, our government promised that we would live better than during the Soviet times. They said that we had gold, gas and many natural resources, and Russians would no longer take all of our wealth to Moscow. But, now, we know that the promised great future was a fairytale. Today, if you ask any school kid what s/he will do after finishing school, they answer that they will go to Russia. Karimov doesn’t want to join the new soyuz [Eurasian Economic Union]. But if you don’t want to join, you have to provide jobs and a decent life for your people. Look at Kyrgyz migrants: they don’t need a patent and can find a job easier than us. We Uzbeks are second-class migrants. If Karimov cannot provide jobs in Uzbekistan, at least he could help us by joining the soyuz.

The above quotation shows that people, whilst not located within positions of power and the higher echelons of the government, also take part in the renegotiation of geopolitical struggles and discourses. For ordinary Uzbeks without a viable means of survival in Uzbekistan, labour migration and simplified migration rules in Russia are preferred over the ‘promised great future’ that will not come anytime soon. The current Uzbek government, under the new president Shavkat Mirziyoyev, until February 2022 has appeared to embrace the idea of joining the Russian-led EAEU, referring to Uzbek migrants’ concerns as a legitimization tool. Whilst Uzbek intellectuals may criticize Mirziyoyev for his too-close relationship with Russia, for many ordinary citizens, he might be proceeding based on the real state of affairs. For them, it is better to cooperate with the much stronger Russia with small gains (such as an amelioration of migrants’ lives in Russia) at the expense of some concessions (accession to the EAEU) rather than maintain sovereignty whilst gaining nothing in real terms. Karimov could not afford to yield a part of his country’s (or, as a matter of fact, his own) sovereignty for the sake of migrants’ lives. In other words, Karimov valued his country’s sovereignty, no matter how pompous and intangible it might sound to ordinary people, more than any hypothetical improvements to the lives of migrants. Ultimately, Uzbekistan’s membership in the EAEU does not revolve around migration issues alone but includes a range of political, economic, and security issues.

Another interesting observation was the growing popularity of Russian-language schools in rural Fergana, as well as in many other rural areas of Uzbekistan. While Uzbek is the language of instruction in the majority of schools in Uzbekistan, Russian-language schools are becoming increasingly popular both in urban and rural areas. While Uzbek is the language of instruction in the majority of public schools in Uzbekistan, the government also operates schools that use minority languages as the medium of instruction, such as Karakalpak, Kazakh, Kyrgyz, Russian, Tajik and Turkmen. With the growing demand for Russian-language schools, more and more teachers in these education facilities are not native Russian-speakers but are chosen among the local population. Many Uzbeks we met preferred Russian-language schools to Uzbek-language schools. This was based on the understanding that the former provides a better education as well as better prepares children for future migrant careers in Russia. This implies that migration to Russia has become something of the norm, a widely accepted career path given the economic realities in Uzbekistan. We have even met young technocrats or mid-level public officials enrolling their children in Russian-language schools. Their reasoning is that while their children will already speak Uzbek, attending a Russian-language school offers the advantage of acquiring an additional language, namely Russian, alongside their mother tongue. The preference for Russian-language education reflects an understanding that proficiency in Russian opens up various opportunities in terms of employment, business, and cultural exchange. Whilst Karimov’s regime attempted to reduce Russia’s geopolitical influence in the country, ordinary people’s daily practices and preferences further strengthened Russia’s geopolitical influence.

It is difficult to avoid the status of the Russian language when speaking about Russia’s influence in Uzbekistan. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the use of the Uzbek language in public discourse has dominated (Laruelle 2021). Yet, whilst Uzbek is the only official language, the continued prevalence of the Russian language in politics, business, science and culture signifies a complex relationship between language, power and influence. It highlights the enduring influence of Russian colonialism and the neocolonial dynamics that persist even after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Russian language serves as a symbolic and practical tool of power, connecting Uzbekistan to Russia and its spheres of influence. Discussions on the role of the Russian language in Uzbek society often create a divide between the Uzbek-speaking majority and the Russian-speaking minority, particularly in the capital city of Tashkent. This linguistic division intersects with broader power dynamics, as those who are fluent in Russian may have an advantage in certain sectors and may be more connected to Russian networks of influence. The presence of the Russian language in Uzbekistan’s everyday life underscores the intricate interplay between language, culture, and geopolitics. It reflects the ongoing negotiations of power and identity in the face of historical legacies and contemporary global forces. These dynamics provide valuable insights into the neocolonial dimensions of everyday geopolitics, where language acts as a vehicle for asserting influence and navigating power dynamics within a post-colonial context. Having in mind that the study of language policies represents a separate research topic, we should nevertheless mention the role the Russian language plays in Uzbek-dominated segments of society.

These daily expressions of everyday geopolitics are not only visible in daily discourses and practices but can also be found in rituals and wedding ceremonies that are part and parcel of Uzbek culture. Here, we provide one intriguing example from a wedding ceremony we attended in Shabboda in August 2014.

Most weddings in Shabboda are scheduled to take place between May and September. This is because many villagers receive remittances from Russia, serving as the financial basis for arranging wedding ceremonies. We attended a nikoh toi (wedding ceremony) arranged by one of the families in the mahalla (local community), a family whose three male members worked in Russia. This family was formerly one of the poorest households in the past. But, thanks to the success of their family members, they recently purchased a new car and built a new house, drastically elevating their social status and reputation in the mahalla. The wedding party began with the following welcome speech by the mother of the groom:

Welcome to our wedding feast, dear guests and mahalla members. We wish happiness and joy to the young couple. I don’t think we would be able to arrange such a nice wedding if my husband and sons did not work in Russia. Taking this opportunity, I would like to thank [Vladimir] Putin and Russia for [giving us the opportunity] to earn so that we could organize this wedding.

For us as researchers studying migration, this speech expressing gratitude to Putin came as quite a surprise, particularly given the official government discourse and contempt towards citizens who worked in Russia. But, for many people in attendance at the wedding, the speech did not come as a surprise but rather was accompanied by an ironic laugh and nodding, illustrating the mahalla residents’ pragmatic view of migration (and, as such, Putin and Russia) as the main source of livelihood in post-Soviet Uzbekistan. However, a few days later, we learned that someone had informed law enforcement bodies about the speech, and the host (the mother of the groom) was taken to the local SNB (then, the National Security Service) office for expressing gratitude to a foreign country’s president, but not to Karimov. Not wanting to expose their mother to SNB harassment, all the family members visited the SNB office and left a written explanation stating that their mother had a mental illness due to her old age, a strategy that secured her release from SNB’s podval (basement, where suspected criminals are kept).

Moscow’s ‘little Uzbekistan’

Back in Russia, many migrants take their precarious working and living conditions as norms. Most of the jobs they do are menial, physically exhausting and dangerous to their health as well as leaving them overworked and underpaid. Moreover, these labour migrants send the bulk of their earnings home, content with covering essential expenses only. Whilst in Moscow, they share flats or, if lucky, find accommodation at their workplace; they spend the bare minimum on groceries, trying to save every rouble they can. Even so, they accept their fate and are content with their current situation. They have internalized views of themselves as inferior to local Russians. Watching Russian television channels, they see the world through the prism of Russian propaganda, taking pride in Russia’s successes and scolding her opponents in international affairs.

It is no coincidence that many migrants regard Putin as their president. They see in Putin a strongman who brought prosperity to Russia and who allowed them, the migrants, to earn a living in the country. In their everyday conversations, they also debate Putin and politics in Russia. At the same time, migrants express a mixture of both positive and negative feelings toward Putin. The following is the translation of lyrics from an Uzbek folk song about Putin, rouble inflation, and the increasing work permit (patent) fees:

Patent prices soaring high

Rouble’s value taking a dive

Uzbeks have run away

What have you done, brother Putin?

Who will construct buildings?

Who will shop in Auchan,

Uzbeks are now going home

What have you done, brother Putin?

It has all become worrying

Uzbeks are in trouble.

Brother Putin, your roubles

Have no value in our country.

A new year – a new problem

Every year – another hurdle.

Either patent, or language exam

Or you close the border.

Without beating or swearing

You are kicking out Uzbeks.

Brother Putin, you too have become

Another figure like Zhirinovsky.

Remember brother Stalin

He didn’t bother with exams.

He never cared about

Registration or patents.

Anyways, Uzbeks always find a way

Of winning bread every day.

This song, which was uploaded on YouTube in 2015,⁵ has gained popularity among Uzbek migrants, garnering nearly 1 million views. The song captures a range of emotions toward Putin, encompassing both admiration and frustration. As we described above, migrants face xenophobia, discrimination, police arbitrariness and employer abuse in their everyday lives, in addition to a punitive legal environment, as well as difficult and often dangerous working conditions. Rather interestingly, Uzbek migrants address their grievances and suffering to the president of Russia, where they live and work, in this song. By mentioning Stalin and Zhirinovsky (a Russian politician known for his nationalist and antimigrant speeches, who died in 2022) and addressing Putin directly, migrants see him as their protector and patron. It is worth noting that migrants’ decision to address Putin in the song reflects their perception that their own government, Uzbekistan, has abandoned them. Consequently, they see little point in seeking assistance from the Uzbek government or its embassy, at least until Karimov’s death in 2016, when this was the prevailing sentiment. Instead, they turn to Putin as a symbol of power and influence. This demonstrates how migrants navigate complex negotiations over power and identity in their everyday practices, using the song as a means of expression. These everyday experiences and reflections are intertwined with grand-level geopolitical discourses and narratives surrounding Central Asia, where Russia holds a dominant position as the ‘big brother’. The song serves as a manifestation of these intertwining dynamics, reflecting the migrants’ experiences within the broader context of Central Asia’s geopolitical landscape.

Although Uzbek migrants face a hostile and xenophobic environment in Russia, it would be wrong to assume that they are merely agency-less actors. Despite their precarious lifestyles, they engage in transnational practices and reproduce their ethnic and cultural practices in their host society. We can view these processes as a type of ‘micro-geopolitical operation’, where migrants create a ‘little Uzbekistan’ within Russia. As Urinboyev (2021) maintains, with the help of communications technologies, Uzbek migrants remain in touch with their home societies whilst also creating smartphone-based translocal communities in Moscow. While this kind of smartphone-based transnational environment helps migrants avoid or manoeuvre around structural constraints such as complicated residence registration and work permit rules, it also shapes transnational lifestyles, thus becoming a part of the daily political, economic, social, and cultural processes both in their home and host societies. Simultaneously, the transnational place-making practices of migrants also affect their identities. One cannot fail to notice how the network of Uzbek cafés and restaurants has become embedded within the mosaic of Moscow’s urban space in the last decade. This network ranges from fast food type chains for migrants and low-income Russians to restaurants serving high-income clientele. Cafés and eateries for migrants are often situated in the city’s sleeping quarters, industrial zones, food markets, train stations, or other migrant hotspots.

When interviewing Uzbek labour migrants in their living or working spaces proved impossible, we often invited our respondents to such cafés during our Moscow-based fieldwork.⁶ Visiting such places, Uzbek migrants felt at home not only because they could enjoy their own national cuisine, but they also felt they were ‘creating a space’ in a foreign country. In one such informal conversation at the café ‘Odnazhdy v Tashkente’ in Food City on the outskirts of Moscow, we dined with three Uzbek migrants of different ages. Nodir (male, 25) proudly spoke about how Uzbeks are expanding their presence in Russia:

You see, every year there are more and more Uzbek cafés and businesses. Did you notice those novvoyxonas (Uzbek bakeries) or shops with kazans (cauldrons) out there? These Uzbek cafés are all around Moscow. We’re building a new Uzbekistan here. We Uzbeks are workaholics and enterprising people. We just need some [favourable] conditions. We don’t need anything else. God willing, more and more Uzbeks will be here and we will rebuild a new Uzbekistan here in the future.

At this moment, the geopolitical process of redefining the territory of the nation-state, by bringing ‘the foreign’ within the boundaries of the nation, is taking place. In other words, the deterritorialization of national spaces happens, and migrants ‘bring’ their homeland into their host country through their discourses, which contest the meaning of the borders between Russia and Uzbekistan. However, as our conversation developed further, we found that migrants understood the limits of their place-making in Russia. In contrast to Nodir’s words, Abdurashid (male, 53), an experienced migrant who holds Russian citizenship,⁷ explained how he does not ‘feel at home’ in Russia:

I have lived in Russia for twenty-three years. As a taxi driver, I know Moscow like I know the back of my hand. I have been to almost all of the cities in Russia. As a Russian citizen, I am entitled to many things and I am grateful to God for this. But you see on people’s faces [when receiving public services] that they don’t accept you as one of their own. I clearly remember in 2012, just a couple of months after getting my Russian passport, a traffic policeman stopped me. Almost confident that I did not violate any traffic rule and that my citizenship would give me leverage, I figuratively got a slap in the face. The police officer said, ‘Even if you are three times a Russian citizen, even if your surname is Ivanov, to me you are still cherniy [black], and I will not let you freely break rules in my country’. He then demonstratively imposed the highest possible fine. I will never forget this, and every time I encounter a police officer, I hear those words in my ears. So, I don’t feel at home here.

Some Uzbek men take pride in their masculinity and use it as a means to renegotiate their unequal position in Russian society. The following excerpt from an interview with Jamshid (male, 29) reflects the opinion held by many peers of his age, an attitude we encountered frequently during our fieldwork:

You know, many Russian women prefer us [to local Russians], although they do not always openly admit it. I am telling you this as a plumber, who meets many Russian women on a daily basis. I visit several apartments a day; every day someone has a problem with their pipes, tubes or leaks. I have learned their [Russians’] psychology very well. I know a lot of unhappy wives and single women. Many Russian women complain about their husbands, who drink [alcohol] a lot and don’t pay enough attention to their women. They are often incapable of sexually satisfying their women. How can they if they are often drunk? You know they perform oral sex on their women, because they don’t have enough potency to satisfy their women ‘normally’. And, we [Uzbeks] can easily satisfy women because we are physically strong and circumcised. We are better than them [Russian men] in bed. Russkie vymiraiut! [Russians are dying out!] So, when more and more Uzbeks meet Russian women, we increase the population of Uzbeks here. Not to mention the fact that we are already the largest ethnic group of foreigners here.

The quoted excerpt reflects a prevalent attitude among many Uzbek men in Russian society, which we encountered frequently during our fieldwork. It highlights how some Uzbek men take pride in their masculinity and use it as a means to renegotiate their perceived unequal position in the host society. Jamshid asserts that many Russian women prefer Uzbek men over local Russians, although this preference is not openly admitted. He claims to have gained insights into the psychology of Russian women through his work as a plumber, where he interacts with them daily. This empirical example is intriguing when considering that geopolitical imaginations and narratives in Central Asia are heavily influenced by ideas and discourses of Central Asian presidents as fathers of their nations, and as strong male figures that sustain, guide and protect their nations (Zanca 2018).

Regardless of how Uzbek male migrants assert their superiority vis-à-vis Russian men, it is important to note that this perception may not necessarily align with the reality of migrants’ lives. Many migrants are preoccupied with the financial pressures of earning, saving, and supporting their families back home, leaving little time or resources for extended romantic relationships with Russian women. Therefore, this complacency about their desirability may serve as a compensatory reaction to their precarious living conditions. The above quotation highlights how migrants use masculinity and sexual prowess as a means of asserting their worth and challenging their marginalized position in Russian society. By positioning themselves as superior lovers and potential partners, Uzbek men are able to renegotiate their perceived status and reclaim agency within the host society. This perspective sheds light on the complex ways in which migrants navigate their identities, aspirations, and power dynamics in a foreign and xenophobic environment.

As our empirical data illustrate, geopolitics cannot be limited to elite discourses, such as speeches from leading politicians and government texts. Rather, we also need to approach geopolitics as a bottom-up process, thereby focusing on people’s daily experiences and discourses as sites of micro-political operations. Therefore, any account of geopolitics should engage with the study of the everyday ways in which people live geopolitics, focusing on the everyday intersection of the human body with places, environments, objects and discourses linked to geopolitics. This case study of Uzbek migrants in Russia and their left-behind families in Uzbekistan provides ample evidence for the salience of everyday micro-level processes. These insights have also been confirmed in recent studies of everyday geopolitics, such as the images and everyday imaginings of Palestine (Culcasi 2016) and migrant narratives (Riemsdijk 2013).

By focusing on the intersection of the human body with everyday contexts influenced by geopolitics, this approach highlights the agency and lived experiences of individuals within broader geopolitical narratives. It recognizes that geopolitical processes are not confined to official speeches and governmental actions but are embedded in the routines, interactions, and perceptions of ordinary people. This framework allows for a more nuanced understanding of the complexities and nuances of geopolitics, shedding light on the multiple layers of power, identity and contestation that operate at the micro-level.

Conclusions

This paper contributes to current geopolitical theories and debates that continue to rely on grand-level narratives, broader politics and inter-state relations. By drawing upon the ethnographic study of Uzbek migrants and their left-behind families and communities, we demonstrated here how grand-level geopolitical narratives and processes operate and are renegotiated in the everyday spaces, relationships and experiences of ordinary people. Our study allowed us to gain a bottom-up understanding of how the grand-level geopolitical struggles are lived and renegotiated in everyday life situations. In doing so, we refrained from grand- and macro-level geopolitical relationships and interactions between Russia and Uzbekistan, but rather focused on a bottom-up approach. By considering the neo-colonial dimensions of geopolitical dynamics in the region, we can better understand the structural forces that shape migration patterns, economic dependencies, and social hierarchies.

In our study, we demonstrated how official geopolitical discourses surrounding the country’s relationships with external powers contradicted the opinions and lived experiences of ordinary people far from power centres. This was especially true in rural areas with high unemployment rates and impoverished living standards, where people felt the state had abandoned them and they needed to organize their livelihoods through different strategies, with migration representing the most immediate and preferred strategy. Since remittances allowed migrants and their families not only to climb out of poverty, but also to ascend the social hierarchy, people seemingly did not care much about macro-level politics. Thus, the labelling of ‘lazy’ people differed when comparing the state narrative and everyday life. The top-down approach of exerting geopolitical power Moscow intersects with the everyday lives of ordinary people in Uzbekistan, shaping their choices, opportunities and identities. While the state made extensive efforts to reduce Russia’s geopolitical influence in the country, ordinary people’s daily practices and preferences further strengthened the geopolitical influence of foreign powers, such as Russia.

Accordingly, one of the key contributions of this article is the connection that we make between migration from the region and geopolitics in the everyday. Of course, there is an ongoing discussion on how migration impacts community life in Central Asia. For example, Reeves (2011) has discussed ‘staying put’ in terms of those who are ‘left behind’; Isabaeva’s (2011) study on ‘the moral village’ in southern Kyrgyzstan; and Ibañez Tirado’s (2019) work on ‘waiting’ and ‘left behind’ in terms of the interaction of those who migrate and those who stay’. However, these studies have focused on family, economy, and morality issues, while our study explores these processes through the lens of everyday geopolitics. In particular, we shed light into how Uzbek migrants in Russia and their left-behind families in Uzbekistan renegotiated and/or contested the notion of being labelled as ‘lazy’, being a citizen of ‘the country with a great future’ and other discourses promoted by the Uzbek authorities.

In Russia, Uzbek migrants have already internalized their inferior status, accepting their present circumstances. Through reflections to different developments in the host country, these migrants enter into complex negotiations over power and identity in their everyday practices. Simultaneously, when an opportunity exists to do so, migrants engage in transnational space-making ‘bringing their homeland’ into the host country as a way to renegotiate their place in Russian society. At the same time, social relations within a society are rather dynamic, and one should not consider phenomena as static. Since 2016, the government in Uzbekistan has changed, and, along with it, the state’s discourse on migration did as well. Moscow’s aggression against Ukraine has significantly altered perceptions of Russia among many Uzbeks; however, this is a topic for further research.

Migration is thus a key social and political arena in Uzbekistan, where state–society relationships unfold in complex and contradictory ways. Migration, as Hyndman (2012) rightly asserted, is the barometer of geopolitics, especially in Central Asia, where the state is ‘absent’, and a large portion of the population depends upon remittances. The intrinsic message of our study is that any attempt to understand the current geopolitical dynamics in Central Asia and broader post-Soviet space should not only focus on grand-level politics and macro-level processes but also account for the everyday micro-level spaces of power possibly affecting macro transformations and policymaking at the national or regional level. By illuminating the everyday experiences, negotiations, and practices of individuals, this research highlights the nuanced and intricate ways in which geopolitics operates and shapes the lives of ordinary people. It emphasizes the importance of considering the micro-level dynamics in order to gain a comprehensive understanding of geopolitical transformations and inform effective policymaking at national and regional levels.

Acknowledgements

We express our sincere gratitude to the Swedish Research Institute in Istanbul for hosting us as guest researchers, which enabled us to complete the first draft of this article. We are also grateful to several anonymous reviewers for their constructive and helpful comments on an earlier version of this article.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

Additional information

Funding

This research was supported by several funding agencies: the Swedish Research Council [grant numbers dnr D0734401; dnr 2020-01734; dnr 2018-01425]; FORTE – the Swedish Research Council for Health, Working Life and Welfare [grant number 2021-00023]; the Academy of Finland [grant number 338349]; the Riksbankens Jubileumsfonden [grant number MHI19-1428:1; SAB22-0006]; the European Commission H2020-MSCA-IF-EF-ST [grant number 751911]; the European Commission H2020-MSCA-RISE-2019 ‘Central Asian Law’ [grant number 870647]; the European Commission HORIZON-MSCA-2021-SE-01 ‘MOCCA’ [grant number 101085855]; the Ministry of Innovative Development of Uzbekistan [grant number IL-21101893].

Notes

1 See https://kun.uz/en/news/2023/02/22/uzbekistan-again-becomes-main-source-of-labor-migrants-for-russia (accessed on 8 September 2023).

2 Islom Karimov, dangasalar haqida, 14 October 2014; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3P4oCH_D0QY/.

3 In December 2020, Uzbekistan became an observer-state in the organization, a fact many Uzbeks viewed as a move to prepare public opinion in Uzbekistan for full membership in the near future.

4 In Uzbekistan, according to persistent gender and social hierarchies, men are considered the main breadwinners and, therefore, are expected to find a job abroad.

5 Song, Nima qildiz Putin aka 2015; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoFB31hh7hM/.

6 Our last visit to Moscow took place in October and November 2019.

7 Interestingly, those Uzbeks with Russian citizenship often call themselves migrants and behave as migrants, visiting their parents and extended family members once a year. In this regard, they are like any other migrant, but have Russian citizenship, making their lives much easier in Russia.