The Fall of Tajikistan’s Opposition

On November 16, 1992, deputies from Tajikistan’s Supreme Soviet met in the northern city of Khujand. One year after gaining independence from the Soviet Union, Tajikistan was wracked by a civil war between regional groups that would kill up to 60,000 people. The country’s previous president, communist-era leader Rahmon Nabiyev, had been forced to resign at gunpoint on September 7. In the picturesque surroundings of the House of Culture at the collective farm Arbob, just outside of the city limits, the deputies had to decide who should chair the Soviet, and act as head of state until elections could be held.

Rather than choosing a prominent politician, they opted for little-known Emomali Rahmonov, who had only been elected to the national assembly two years before. A visibly nervous Rahmon, as he became in 2007 after dropping the -ov, took to the stand; in a weak voice he promised to “defend the constitution and the laws of the Republic.”

Rahmon was in a position of relative weakness in 1992. He had no militia of his own. He did not have his own independent powerbase, but relied on the patronage of Sangak Safarov, a convicted criminal and barkeeper who had risen to become the most powerful warlord in the country. At the time of Rahmon’s election, the government controlled just 40 percent of the country’s territory and did not have full control over the capital city.

Twenty-seven years later, Rahmon remains Tajikistan’s president. With the death of Uzbekistan’s Islam Karimov in 2016 and the retirement of Kazakhstan’s Nursultan Nazarbayev in 2019, he is the longest serving head of state in the former Soviet Union. Rahmon has jailed, killed, or exiled those who put him in power, gradually strengthening his family’s grip on power and treating the state as a cash cow.

In March, Tajikistan will hold parliamentary elections. The party of Emomali Rahmon, the ironically-named People’s Democratic Party (PDP), holds 51 of the 63 seats in Tajikistan’s lower chamber. A total of 70 candidates will stand for the 22 seats that are decided by proportional representation. While seven parties will compete in the election, only one, the Social Democratic Party, which currently has no deputy in parliament, offers any genuine opposition to the government. Last time around, in 2015, observers from the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), concluded that the election “took place in a restricted political space and failed to provide a level playing field for candidates.”

Absent from this year’s elections is the Islamic Renaissance Party (IRPT), once Central Asia’s only legal faith-based political party, which had held two seats in parliament until 2015. Without opposition representatives in Tajikistan’s parliament, the country has become a de facto one-party state.

The Downfall of the Islamic Renaissance Party

Much has changed in Tajikistan over the past decade. Ten years ago the IRPT had two seats in parliament. The party claimed to have 50,000 members at its height in 2007. It remained a symbol of nascent democratization, deference to the peace deal that ended the civil war, and multiparty politics, despite the actual absence of all three.

Having recently arrived in Tajikistan in September 2010, one of my first stories as a journalist focused on the crackdown on the opposition. The central offices of the party, a 30-minute ride from the center of the city, were rather indistinct when viewed from the outside. Only a small plaque and sign adorning the entrance signaled that the building was the headquarters of the country’s leading opposition party. In contrast to the sterile government offices, the IRPT’s headquarters was a hive of activity, with people queueing to meet with party leaders. Not only did the party headquarters host offices and meeting rooms, but it also hosted the country’s only mosque catering to women, who were banned from mosques by a 2004 fatwa issued by the country’s top Muslim body, the Tajik Council of Ulema. In the prayer hall, women prayed quietly and congregated in small groups to discuss the Quran.

Having toured the facilities, I met with the party’s leader, Muhiddin Kabiri, in his office. Clean-shaven, speaking impeccable English, Kabiri ushered me in and invited me to drink tea. Kabiri had become leader of the party following the death of its founding figure and previous leader Said Abdullo Nuri in August 2006.

Along with a group of like-minded individuals, Nuri had established the movement that would become the IRPT in 1971, with the goal of educating young people in the ways of Islam. His religious interests swiftly brought him into conflict with the Soviet regime. After he petitioned the 27th Party Congress in 1986, calling for the establishment of an Islamic state, the local authorities labelled him “Wahhabi,” sentencing him to 18 months in prison. His home town, the Turkmenistan state farm in Vakhsh district, was reported to be infested with dangerous religious ideas. According to state newspaper Kommunist Tadzhikistana, in 1986, “like metastases, religious sentiments are creeping through the kishlak (village), affecting more and more people, poisoning their minds and fencing them off from reality behind a curtain of false ideals.”

Shortly after independence, Tajikistan slipped into civil war, with the IRPT fighting on the side of the opposition. After the opposition fled to Afghanistan in 1993, Nuri established links with al-Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden and Ibn al-Khattab, who would go on to find fame as an insurgent leader in Chechnya. But as part of the peace deal that ended the civil war in 1997, Nuri committed to working to “build a state that will be within the framework of the constitution” and the party was duly legalized in 1999.

In a departure from Nuri’s policies, Islam played a limited role in the IRPT’s 2003 charter. Besides a reference to promoting “Islamic values,” the party’s goals were stated as contributing to democratization, the rule of law, national unity, and human rights.

Kabiri’s aim was to open up the IRPT to a younger electorate, expanding the party’s outreach through charitable activities and social media. During his tenure he shunned confrontation with the government and called for a gradualist, patient approach to change. But the government still viewed the party as a threat. Kabiri ominously warned in 2010 that “maybe the government now has a new strategy towards our party. They think that if there are many religiously educated people, women with hijabs, men with beards, then all of them will support the Islamic Party. And so they see us a threat.”

This turned out to be the case.

Days after my visit, the women’s mosque burned down under suspicious circumstances. A 2011 decree titled Protocol 32-20 laid out the government’s plans to marginalize the party. It called on agencies to compile a list of current members of the IRPT and find to ways to “create incentives for them to leave the party.” The government campaign against the party ramped up ahead of the March 2015 parliamentary elections. That year proved to be the death knell for the party. Videos accusing IRPT members of sexual impropriety and involvement in corrupt practices circulated in state media throughout 2014 and in the run up to the March 2015 vote.

On the eve of the election, imams read a government-prepared sermon warning their congregations not to vote for the IRPT.  “Today, there are some people who blacken the name of the [president’s ruling PDP] party, who blacken the name of Islam,” the imams read. “These statements are nothing more than exaggeration. These words are spoken by those who have usurped Islam for their own selfish purposes and scare people with religion.”

Officially, the IRPT secured just 1.6 percent of the vote in March 2015, losing its two seats. Communist Party leader Shodi Shabdolov wryly concluded that “the campaign that happened in our country on March 1 was not an election; it was decree.”

In the months following the election defeat, the government moved to eliminate the IRPT. State media and officials linked the party to terrorism and instability. On a Friday afternoon in March 2015 imams across Tajikistan called on worshippers to petition the government to shut down the Islamic Renaissance Party. Before Friday prayer the government-controlled Islamic Center distributed a sermon template entitled “Unity and Cohesion in Choosing the Right Path.” Penned by an official from the Committee on Religious Affairs, the statement congratulated the Tajik people for voting for the party that guarantees Tajikistan’s “peace and unity” – the president’s party, that is. The prepared sermon accused IRPT supporters of being “separatists” and concluded that “We do not want the fate of our neighboring state [Afghanistan] … In Tajikistan, there should be only one party; it is active, cares about the people and the future of the nation. It is a party of peace.”

The IRPT’s downfall thereafter was swift.

On June 16, 2015, an article in state newspaper Jumhuriyat accused IRPT leader Muhiddin Kabiri of illegally buying property in 1999. Kabiri escaped arrest but remains in exile. In June, IRPT deputies started resigning and closing their offices across the country. Visibly shaken and reading prepared statements, deputies cited the party’s poor performance in the elections and a series of scandals involving members for their decisions. Many deputies were tortured by law enforcement officers in an attempt to force them to resign. Ilhomjon Yaqubzoda, the party’s leader in Sughd region, was forced to eat printed articles that he had written for six hours. The IRPT closed its offices in 58 districts over the summer of 2015. Accusations of administrative violations were used by the government to close down the party’s remaining operations. The Ministry of Justice used this as an excuse to outlaw the IRPT.

Having banned the party, the government thenfound a reason to label it a terrorist organization. After losing his job, former Deputy Defense Minister Abduhalim Nazarzoda, who had been incorporated into the government as part of the 1997 peace deal, and his supporters attacked police checkpoints in and around the capital city Dushanbe on September 4, 2015. At least 140 were detained and 30 killed in the fighting. The government blamed the IRPT for plotting a coup and the Supreme Court swiftly classified it as a terrorist organization. Within days, hundreds of party supporters, including 13 members of its Supreme Council, had been arrested and accused of extremism. In a closed trial in June 2016, the 13 leading members were given sentences ranging from two years to life.

Members of the opposition are not the only ones who have felt the effects of Tajikistan’s authoritarian turn. In the name of countering extremism, the government placed severe restrictions on religious life. Tajikistan does have a problem with violent extremism. The government estimates that 1,899 citizens travelled to Syria and Iraq, although recruitment has fallen sharply since its height in 2014. This makes Tajikistan the third largest per capita exporter of foreign fighters in the world after Tunisia and the Maldives. But the government’s reaction to the threat has been extreme and counterproductive.

Even before the emergence of the Islamic State, the government had started to crack down on religion. Echoing Soviet practices, the government introduced a religion law in 2009 that required mosques to re-register. Using this legislation, Tajikistan’s government has closed over 2,000 mosques, about one-third of the total, turning them into cultural centers, cinemas, and public facilities. It began a campaign to close down madrassas in 2008. In 2010, the government called on over 3,000 Tajiks studying Islam abroad to return home, claiming they were likely to become terrorists. Those wishing to study Islam abroad need to obtain permission from the government, which is almost never granted. And opportunities to gain a religious education at home are meager. The last madrassa closed its doors in 2016, leaving the 1,000-seat Islamic University as the only place to study religion in the country. A 2011 Law on Parental Responsibility banned minors under 18 years old from places of worship and called on parents to give their children names that fitted with ill-defined “national values.”

The struggle against extremism is increasingly patronizing, infiltrating people’s everyday lives. Much of the government’s focus has been on visual signs of Islam. Reports of men with beards being forcibly shaven emerged in 2010, a practice that continues to this day. The Ministry of Education banned hijabs in schools in 2005 and police routinely round up women in public places, forcing them to remove their headscarves. Instead, they are told to wear national dress. In 2018, the Ministry of Culture published a 367-page Guidebook of Recommended Outfits In Tajikistan, outlining acceptable dress for females. Miniskirts, flip-flops, black clothes, and hijabs are all prohibited. While the guidelines are not a law, several government agencies have been tasked with making sure women comply.

Tajikistan’s Nepotocracy

President Rahmon has gradually moved to extend his power over all aspects of Tajik life. Traditionally, the IRPT was acknowledged as playing a role in establishing peace in 1997. But slowly the government erased them from the narrative, framing Rahmon as the sole party responsible for establishing peace. Three months after banning the opposition party in September 2015, parliament approved a law to make Emomali Rahmon “Leader of the Nation and Founder of Peace.” The law also gave him legal immunity and abolished term limits. “His recent actions show that he is not ready to share anything in Tajikistan with anyone,” Kabiri told The Diplomat in a recent interview. “Not just power, finance, and politics, but he is unwilling to relinquish his monopoly on the modern history of the country.”

The president and his extensive family have moved to monopolize more than just history. Rahmon has nine children. His son, 32-year-old Rustam Emomali, has been mayor of the capital city since 2017. He is widely believed to be being groomed for power by his father, and could become president in Tajikistan’s next presidential elections, slated to take place later this year. Rahmon’s daughter Ozoda is his chief of staff. Ozoda’s husband controls the National Bank. Another son-in-law controls key interests in tourism, trade, tourism, and pharmaceuticals. Rahmon’s brother-in-law owns the country’s largest airline and third largest bank and controls the largest industrial enterprise, the Talco aluminum smelter. The list goes on.

Tajikistan’s kleptocratic presidential family uses its grip on the levers of power to dominate the economy. In 2006, China loaned Tajikistan $296 million to repair the road between Dushanbe and Khujand. Immediately after it was completed in 2010, toll booths sprang up along the route. Signs declaring that Innovative Road Solutions was responsible for maintaining the new road appeared along the highway. Claiming global experience, IRS had registered in the country just one month before winning the uncompetitive lucrative contract from the government. Investigative journalists later uncovered that the company was registered in the British Virgin Islands, and controlled by one of the president’s sons-in-law, Jamoliddin Nuraliyev. While the government pays back the loan to China, his offshore company nets an estimated $200 million in tolls each year.

People cross the Rahmon family at their peril. When Abubakr Azizkhodzhaev complained about losing his government tender for producing license plates to the president’s son-in-law Shamsullo Sohibov, he was charged with extremism and jailed.

A worse fate awaited another of Sohibov’s business partners, Umarali Quvvatov. Between 2001 and 2011 he ran two companies, Faroz and Tojiron, partnering with Sohibov to supply oil to NATO forces in Afghanistan. But when Sohibov forcefully took over his stake in the business in 2012, Quvvatov fled to Moscow. He did not go quietly.

In 2012, Quvvatov formed an opposition group called Group 24. Quvvatov took to social media, releasing kompromat, accusing specific officials of corruption, and producing documents to back up his claims. But the Tajik authorities turned Quvvatov’s accusations on their head, accusing him of fraud and stealing $1.2 million from the company accounts. With Quvvatov now outside of the country, the Prosecutor General of Tajikistan sent a request, or Red Notice, to international police cooperation organization Interpol, asking member states to detain and extradite Quvvatov back to Tajikistan. Quvvatov was detained for 10 months in Dubai in 2013, before being released.

In early October 2014, he took to Facebook to call a protest against the regime in Dushanbe. The government’s reaction was extreme. An estimated 200 websites, including Facebook, YouTube, and the Russian social media site Vkontakte, were blocked at the request of the State Communications Committee. Police officers visited schools to warn pupils not to attend any demonstrations. On October 4, state television channels aired video footage of police staging a protest simulation in the center of Dushanbe, and using a water cannon to fend off the would-be demonstrators in the capital city’s main square. Three days later, the Supreme Court outlawed Group 24, classifying it as an “extremist” organization.

The government’s lengthy campaign to silence Quvvatov ended on an Istanbul street on March 5, 2015. After dining with a friend, Quvvatov began to feel sick. Looking to get some fresh air he stepped out onto the street. As he left the apartment building, a masked gunman came from behind and shot him in the back of the head. It later turned out that Sulaiman Kayumov, the friend with whom Quvvatov was dining, had tried to poison him. A Turkish court subsequently sentenced Kayumov to life in prison for murdering Quvvatov. Although the government of Tajikistan was not implicated, their lengthy campaign to silence Quvvatov raised suspicions that they had a hand in the assassination.

Life in Exile

As the net closed in on the country’s opposition, politicians, independent journalists, academics, and human rights activists fled the country. The long arm of the dictator has reached into Russia and Turkey, where many exiles fled to first. In 2014 and 2015 a number of opposition members disappeared in both countries, only to turn up in Tajikistan a few days later.

Businessman Maksud Ibragimov, leader of Youth for the Revival of Tajikistan, a social movement calling for democratization in Tajikistan, toured Russia in 2014 criticizing the government in Dushanbe and calling on Tajikistan’s estimated 1 million migrants to join his movement. He had been accused of extremism by the government of Tajikistan in November 2014. The Prosecutor General issued an arrest warrant for Ibragimov, sharing this with its Russian counterpart. Ibragimov was arrested by the Russian police in Moscow in November. But, as a Russian passport holder, he was swiftly released. An unknown assailant stabbed Ibragimov near his Moscow home shortly after. Two months later in January 2015, five officers from the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the Russian Federation entered Ibragimov’s apartment and arrested him. They took him to the local Prosecutor’s Office but did not formally charge him. When he left the building, he was detained by unidentified men who took him to the airport and put him in the baggage hold of a plane. Flown to Tajikistan, he was not heard from for six months. In June 2015, the Supreme Court sentenced Ibragimov to 17 years in prison on a host of charges including extremism.

Fearing arrest, many Tajik opposition members have fled to the relative safety of the EU. Tajik exiles are concentrated in Poland, Lithuania, and Germany. Between 2015 and 2018, the Polish government received 1,707 applications for asylum from Tajik citizens, the third highest from any country. With limited ability to directly harass those within the EU, the government has targeted their families. Law enforcement have threatened to rape the 15-year-old daughter of one activist, denied medical care, confiscated the passport of Kabiri’s 4-year-old grandson who was suffering from cancer, and stormed into the schoolroom of a 10-year-old, calling her a “terrorist.” Such efforts have not silenced most government critics.

The opposition has done its best to coordinate efforts and remain relevant. In September 2018, the IRPT joined with three other opposition groups to form the National Alliance of Tajikistan. Coordination efforts among opposition groups began in 2016, according to Kabiri. Bringing together a range of groups was not only intended to increase their bargaining power, but also to “show the Tajik and international community our readiness and ability to cooperate and coexist with all worldviews.” The government of Tajikistan did not see it that way. True to form, they added the alliance to their list of terrorist organizations in October 2019.

Scattered all over Europe, the opposition in exile has limited influence within the country. Their strategy has a number of dimensions, according to Kabiri. It includes lobbying foreign governments to raise human rights issues during meetings with Tajik officials, working to counter the influence of violent extremists, and attempting to raise awareness of the authoritarian practices of the Tajik government among citizens. But Kabiri does not expect dramatic change to occur in Tajikistan any time soon. So the exiled opposition is supporting its members in gaining asylum and integrating into their new homes.

Back in Tajikistan, the government has signaled that it will tolerate no dissent before the elections. In January, the government started arresting hundreds of people, accusing them of being members of the Muslim Brotherhood, banned in Tajikistan since 2006. Initially tight-lipped about the arrests, the Prosecutor General later admitted that 113 people, including 20 professors, had been detained. Independent sources put the number at over 200.

The leader of the country’s only opposition party, the Social Democratic Party, is not optimistic. Rahmatullo Zoirov told Radio Free Europe in December that “nothing will change” and “political parties are only observers of the election process.” If the elections were free, his party would win five seats, he claims. But as it stands “the system can be considered one-party.”

The People’s Democratic Party will win the 2020 elections and with that victory will come further political stagnation, systemic corruption, and repression in the mountainous Central Asian republic.