As Central Asia grapples with systemic corruption and escalating climate challenges, it finds itself at a pivotal juncture in its environmental trajectory. From the urban epicenters to the hinterlands, there is a palpable shift in sentiment. Amidst many complexities, the looming question remains: in the face of current adversities, might the environment emerge as the next big rallying point for Central Asia? We have talked with Professor Amanda Wooden to find out.
Dr. Amanda Wooden is the David and Patricia Ekedahl Professor in Environmental Studies and the Director of the Environmental Studies Program at Bucknell University. With expertise in environmental politics, water conflicts, and extractive industry dynamics, her recent work has centered on environmental discourses and disputes in Kyrgyzstan, including the politics of gold mining and the Kumtor Mine controversies. Her extensive background includes roles at the OSCE in Kyrgyzstan, academic appointments in the U.S. and Central Asia, and a Ph.D. in International Relations and Public Policy from Claremont Graduate University. Professor Wooden’s rich academic history also features a deep dive into the Aral Sea crisis and the nexus of ecological degradation and macroeconomic policies.
CABAR.asia: In Central Asia, concerns like corruption, kleptocracy and bad institutions make the idea of a ‘just energy transition’ complicated. With climate change adding pressure, how do you think people might push back against the ruling regimes?
In the corridors of global discourse, a nuanced phrase echoes with increasing resonance: the ‘just transition’. At its core lies the indispensable concept of energy justice. To genuinely grapple with climate change’s ramifications, it is no longer merely about the environmental imperative but the socio-economic fabric interwoven with it. Climate change beckons not just environmental disruption but potential social upheaval in its wake.
Central Asia stands as a critical region in this conversation. Numerous communities in this vast expanse either lack energy access or remain rooted in fossil fuel-driven livelihoods. The European narrative diverges significantly. While governments there champion alternative energy, the question arises: What does the future hold for nations whose coffers are flush with fossil fuel exports? As the clarion call for environmentalism and electrification intensifies, where does this leave the coal miner or those tethered to the now-waning plastics industry? Kyrgyzstan’s recent prohibition of single-use plastics underscores this shift.
The transition, vital as it is, cannot be blind to its potential pitfalls. The crux of a ‘just transition’ encompasses not merely moving away from extractivist industries but ensuring that the alternatives offer robust wages and engender a sense of autonomy and decision-making sovereignty within communities. This perspective turns the spotlight onto a poignant question: how can societies ensure this transition is equitable? The answer might lie at the confluence of labour unions, environmentalists, and energy justice advocates. These seemingly disparate groups must unite, challenging the oft-perpetuated false dichotomy: jobs or environmental protection. The true vision is employment that respects both the worker and the environment.
Historically, narratives have portrayed environmentalists and the labour sector as adversaries. But in myriad global locales, the idea of protecting the worker invariably means safeguarding their environment. Consider, for instance, proposed mining ventures. While they might offer lucrative employment to a few, the majority, whose sustenance relies on agriculture or livestock, stand to lose. Thus, while some pockets might prosper from extractivism, the broader community’s fabric could fray.
Urban landscapes too must internalise this principle. Bridging dialogues and forging alliances among communities, independent entities, and non-corporate actors are pivotal for this ‘just transition’. It’s about championing jobs that not only facilitate transition to newer sectors but also uphold the welfare of workers and their communities. The COVID-19 pandemic, with its myriad lessons, further underscores this ethos. It is not a mere environmentalist’s dream but a collective global responsibility to ensure a ‘just transition’ is more than just a phrase—it’s a palpable reality.
CABAR.asia: During the COVID pandemic, Central Asians came together in big ways, from helping neighbors to large projects distributing supplies. Given the success of the past bottom-up movements and initiatives during that time and, for example, more official and uniform ones such as Nevada-Semipalatinsk Movement against nuclear testing in Kazakhstan, can the environment once again be the next big rallying point? Especially against the background of the gaining momentum nuclear power plant to be built in Ulken village of Almaty region, a rather seismic area in Kazakhstan, do you see more civil society pressure coming up?
In short, yes, civil society pressure for environmental protection, especially as it intersects with climate change, is intensifying. A recent proposal to construct a nuclear power plant near Lake Balkhash in Kazakhstan could serve as a flashpoint. While it’s positioned away from major urban centers, its proximity to recreational areas treasured by locals could catalyze widespread activism. This potential stems not just from the immediacy of the issue but is rooted in the region’s extensive history of environmental consciousness, coupled with a rising climate awareness across Central Asia.
It’s imperative to address a significant phenomenon that broadened the horizon of activism: the COVID-19 pandemic. Observing state responses in countries like Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan, it became evident that there was a glaring gap in public welfare measures during the health crisis. However, this void was compellingly filled by grassroots initiatives. These community-led efforts, mirroring Arundhati Roy’s insight in her 2020 Financial Times piece, “The pandemic is a portal,” underscore how disasters can reveal latent social inequities.
From Almaty to Bishkek, public discourse on governmental failures in pandemic management reverberated, echoing similar sentiments from more distant shores like the US. The pandemic inadvertently illuminated the state’s inadequacies in safeguarding its citizens, laying bare the stark social disparities, notably in India, where the government’s ethno-nationalism exacerbated the crisis, as Roy discusses.
This global backdrop is vital for Central Asia. The region experienced a surge in mutual aid initiatives, transcending traditional state or corporate social responsibility narratives. Digital platforms facilitated real-time, transnational exchanges, fostering a decentralized knowledge network.
Activism’s bedrock is efficacy, a trust in the impact of collective endeavors. This belief has been magnified post-pandemic, driven by broader public cognizance of environmental repercussions and governmental oversight. Historical movements such as Nevada-Semey in Kazakhstan, which influenced nuclear disarmament policies, underscore this. Such endeavors, even in the face of latent authoritarianism, have been instrumental in sculpting contemporary policy landscapes.
Modernization drives in urban hubs from Dushanbe to Almaty often led to ecological degradation, which in turn spurred activism. Urban green spaces, once symbols of serene public life, faced threats from development projects, triggering protests. For instance, the so-called “modernization” efforts that uprooted trees in Bishkek were widely contested by residents and commentators online and offline, when people were blocking bulldozers, and images of this shared online, emphasizing an urban pivot in environmental advocacy.
However, the rural dimensions of activism can’t be overlooked. Pre-pandemic, rural mobilizations often focused on local environmental grievances. With the pandemic’s onset, a global paradigm shift ensued, revealing stark realities and further fueling environmental activism. For instance, unchecked urban development in Bishkek had significant ecological repercussions, as seen in the recent water crises in Kyrgyzstan. The government’s ill-conceived response, reminiscent of the tumultuous period leading up to the 2010 revolution, only magnified public dissent.
State actions, especially when they undermine environmental and social welfare, can galvanize public opposition. Over the past decade, the region has witnessed multiple grassroots campaigns challenging ecologically detrimental projects, exemplified by the 2019 anti-uranium mining protests in Kyrgyzstan or the “Save Kok Zhailau” or “SOS Taldykol” movements in Kazakhstan.
CABAR.asia: While big cities in Central Asia see a lot of eco-activism, what role do rural activists and communities play in this environmental push?
Amidst a deluge of news reports, understanding the nuances of activism, particularly some of the common differences between urban and rural locales, remains a challenge for many. Most get their insights from the media, which tends to focus on dramatic, large-scale events. However, this spotlight often obscures the subtler daily acts of resistance and the pervasive influence of corporations and states on news narratives.
In truth, many become attuned to environmental issues not through headlines but through lived experience. When we talk about the environment, we should think beyond the conservation of particular species or ecosystems. Instead, we should consider a broader conception of environmental justice — a place where we dwell, work, and lead our lives.
Rural regions, for instance, rely deeply on the quality of soil, air, and predictable climates. Here, livelihoods hinge on maintaining healthy ecosystems for agriculture. Living in rural America, I’ve observed that residents often have a mixed awareness of environmental challenges, much like their urban counterparts. However, while urbanites grapple with issues like air pollution, traffic congestion, and depleting green spaces, the challenges of rural regions are distinct.
Central Asia’s experience is illustrative. Rural areas in this region have been grappling with rapid industrialization since the early 2000s. While the Soviet era was marked by the ‘modernization’ of the countryside, the late 1990s and 2000s saw a new wave of extractivism — the rapid extraction of minerals such as gold, uranium, and rare earths. The inception of projects like Kyrgyzstan’s Kumtor mine marked the first encounters of many rural areas with industrialization, sparking widespread mobilizations against extractivism.
My research in Kyrgyzstan, spanning water issues, uranium site legacies, and the environmental ramifications of extractivism, reveals a consistent and organic resistance movement. Grassroots movements emerged in response to incidents like the 1998 cyanide spill in Barskoon. Over time, as extractivism expanded, local activists did not just protest in isolation; they connected, collaborated, and shared insights. Kyrgyz activists sought inspiration from their Kazakh counterparts and even from anti-mining campaigns in countries as distant as India and Mongolia.
Beyond these large-scale mobilizations, Central Asia witnessed a plethora of micro-movements addressing a myriad of social-environmental issues — from dam construction to waste management. Unfortunately, the media spotlight seldom captured these efforts.
Another emerging concern is glacier loss, a subject close to my heart. As these glaciers, which are vital for agricultural water supply, recede, locals observe muddier rivers and dwindling snow peaks. These shifts, though people do not always link them to global processes, stir awareness and concern. The travel restrictions of the COVID era further led people to explore their own environments, including mountain climbing and visiting glaciated areas, offering newfound perspectives and fostering a deeper appreciation for local ecosystems.
CABAR.asia: As environmental issues gain attention in Central Asia, do you see grassroots movements or political elites leading the charge?
In the ever-evolving narrative of environmentalism, the way people identify actors responsible for environmental challenges, and the solutions they propose, has shifted dramatically across generations and geographies.
For years, environmental politics has been dominated by climate change denialism, while many within the neoliberal generation lack a class-conscious perspective. On the other hand, the younger generation, particularly in Central Asia (CA), who were shaped by free-market fundamentalism post the Soviet era, tended to locate environmental responsibility within individual consumer behaviors. The neo-liberal mantra of “buy right, do your part, recycle!” — which was born out of corporate strategies to divert attention from major industrial polluters — found its way to CA.
However, a transformative shift towards global social justice and climate accountability has been brewing. With major economies like the United States and Europe being at the forefront of driving climate change, the narrative is increasingly emphasizing historical injustices and the essence of decolonization. This change is especially palpable in CA, fueled by events like Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
These changed perspectives emphasize state and corporate responsibility, intertwined with the global critique of capitalism. Yet, neoliberal notions persist. States and corporations tout ‘green’ initiatives, but often this is mere ‘greenwashing’. Asel Doolotkeldieva’s work, for instance, underscores how opposition to extractivism was exploited by local elites in smaller, rural areas for ulterior motives.
The discourse surrounding Kyrgyzstan’s Kumtor mine exemplifies this. While grassroots movements emphasized social and environmental consequences together, national elites manipulated these narratives. This manipulation, often labeled as ‘paltering’, misleads by presenting only partial truths. A classic example is the proposed Ulken nuclear power plant, where officials might spotlight a few supporting local voices, conveniently sidelining a major dissenting majority.
As for the political elites championing environmental causes, while some genuinely aim to address core issues, their solutions are sometimes questionable. Their visions of ‘green’ might involve foreign-funded, large scale, corporate renewable energy projects, which, while environmentally superior to conventional fossil fuel energy sources (instead of traditional energy sources), overlook localized impacts. For instance, while wind power facilities have clear environmental advantages over nuclear or coal, their extraction and implementation without considering local communities, especially when the focus is on exporting energy, raises eyebrows.
As we delve deeper into this intricate environmental tapestry, the youthful fervor globally stands out. More and more young people vehemently critique capitalist approaches and are the most vociferous in their demands for change. Across class divides, the youth’s voices are distinct, and the coalitions they form offer unique solutions. It’s essential, now more than ever, to pay heed to these voices, understand the influences shaping their perspectives, and consider what solutions truly serve society’s best interests.
CABAR.asia: How can we make sure international aid really addresses what Central Asians need for their environment, instead of just meeting global agendas or elite interests?
The intricacies of international aid are undeniably driven by global agendas. Yet, the potential for Central Asian (CA) residents to steer these grand narratives is inextricably tied to their ability to mobilize vis-à-vis their national contexts. The donor ecosystem is in flux, and the eventual course it takes is hard to pin down. One only has to look at the current and shifting narratives used by at the discourses by the likes of the IMF and other financial juggernauts: they’re grappling with capitalism’s pitfalls, lamenting the sidelining of climate change, and navigating the complex corridors of COP (Conference of Parties to the UN FCCC Framework Convention on Climate Change) dialogues. These range from discussions on buttressing funds for climate adaptation to delineating liabilities. As global debates flourish, they invariably mold the nature of international aid, nudging it, albeit gradually, towards a recognition of localized climate-related imperatives.
Contrary to popular belief,
However, the overarching challenges lie in the prevalent ethos of international organizations. Driven by capitalist motives and underpinned by a sense of paternalism, these institutions often impose stringent criteria, which local beneficiaries find hard to navigate. Real change will only ensue when donor countries, propelled by an awakened citizenry, question the status quo, as is evident from burgeoning demands for the USAID and the German government to reorient their strategies.
As the international community grapples with humanity-altering challenges, there’s a growing consensus for donor nations to adopt a more accountable stance. This evolving ethos has ramifications for how they engage with CA. The true power lies in the formation of global coalitions. This is evident from Canada’s extractive industry landscape. As Canada plays host to a vast array of global mining conglomerates, local activists, in conjunction with NGOs, are pushing these enterprises to pivot their operational strategies. These burgeoning transnational alliances hold the promise to redefine corporate responsibilities and reshape the contours of international aid.
CABAR.asia: Historically, big societal changes have been driven by pressing issues. Do you think Central Asia’s environmental challenges could be the catalyst for the next big societal shift? Especially against the background of a recent statement by a Kazakh MFA among the most pressing issues voiced water and environment as number one issue.
The dynamism of coalitions in the global arena is an essential tool for activists. These networks, often operating behind the scenes, allow for continuous exchange of knowledge and support. Our modern era, post-COVID, has ushered in an age of seamless digital communication and decentralized information dissemination. We now witness seminars not only in the global lingua francas of English or Russian but also in state languages such as Kazakh, Kyrgyz, Uzbek, and Tajik. This evolution in communication is democratizing the locus of power and ensuring that knowledge is no longer a restricted commodity.
Water, which has always been a focal point in Central Asia, might soon take center stage. As urban and rural populations grapple with uncertainties about the future, water scarcity, exacerbated by climate change, emerges as a pressing concern. The question of survival looms large. The changing landscapes of Central Asia’s glacier-dependent ecosystems, due to the ominous progression of global warming, present a daunting picture. Increased flooding, uncertain hydroelectricity production, and shifting water flows all hint at a bleak future where water might become a luxury.
While escalating temperatures might be perceived as an uncontrollable natural phenomenon, water scarcity hits closer to home. In most of Central Asia, when citizens find their taps running dry, they see it as a state failure. Historically, public mobilization has been triggered by such water issues, and this is likely to intensify as the crisis deepens. And while other challenges exist, they invariably intersect with the water crisis. Consider the concerns surrounding nuclear plants or industrial setups: their potential impact on already limited water resources is paramount. In an environment where potable water is dwindling, any pollution further diminishes this precious resource, providing a substantial catalyst for public mobilization.
The broader narrative of climate change, while universal, has regional nuances. For instance, while nations like the UK are held accountable for historically being significant contributors to global carbon emissions, Central Asian countries bear the brunt of climate change without being major culprits. However, the unifying thread is clear: people, regardless of geography, are demanding governmental action. For Central Asia, the looming climate crisis is inextricably linked to water.
CABAR.asia: Considering the environmental issues Central Asia faces, are there lessons or inspirations that local movements can draw from global environmental protests or vice versa?
Central Asia’s engagement with global environmental activism is emblematic of the region’s larger role in a connected world: not just as a learner, but also as a profound teacher. This interplay between local initiatives and international influences is reshaping both Central Asia and the broader global community.
Consider the Kumtor protests as an exemplar of this dynamic. Activists in Central Asia, while rooted in their distinct socio-political landscape, found resonance with anti-mining movements in Latin America. This synergy was further underscored when Central Asia’s proposed glacier protection legislation in 2014 borrowed momentum from analogous activities in Chile and Argentina concerning glaciated zones.
The broader environmental and climate justice campaigns of North America, notably those steered by indigenous women, offer a paradigm that Central Asia can adapt and refine. The global consensus emerging here is robust: new fossil fuel infrastructures must be curtailed and existing carbon footprints drastically reduced. The visceral indigenous-led protests against extractivism provide a compelling blueprint, casting a spotlight on the fundamental economic structures underpinning our modern societies.
Central Asia also contributes to this dialogue by offering its nuanced take on decolonial narratives. By critically examining both corporate-state symbioses and the vestiges of Russian colonialism, the region offers a fresh lens through which such global issues can be evaluated. Parallel to this, collaborations among unions, workers, and environmental bodies in the region advocate for a more holistic employment model – one that promises safety, dignity, and sustainability.
On the global stage, regions from Latin America to Africa are resonating with this sentiment, advocating for a paradigm shift in employment and economic priorities. This sentiment echoes also in the rugged terrains of West Virginia, USA, where there’s a palpable demand for more meaningful and sustainable employment avenues.
Yet, Central Asia’s most profound contribution might be its rich tradition of environmental art and activism. Through the works of scholars like Diana Kudaibergen, we glean the potency of Central Asian art in galvanizing communities toward environmental stewardship. This intersection of art and activism creates a space for envisioning futures that are not bound by state directives or traditional norms.
Furthermore, works like Eva-Marie Dubuisson’s in Kazakhstan help us delve deeper into some spiritual and ecological ethos evident in the region. Her exploration of sacred ecology underscores the intrinsic value of preserving both land and the collective memories it houses. Such a worldview, predicated on interconnectedness and reverence, can be a guiding light for global environmental initiatives.
In essence, Central Asia’s varied environmental narratives, while informed by global movements, also offers a reservoir of wisdom, youthful energy, and inspiration for the world. Its role in the global environmental nexus is both pivotal and profound.