What Will It Take to Finally Build a ‘New Uzbekistan’?

On November 6, 2021, in his second inaugural speech, Uzbekistan’s President Shavkat Mirziyoyev proclaimed the time was right to update the country’s constitution. “In many countries, constitutional reforms were carried out during a period of dramatic changes,” he said, defining his hoped-for constitutional amendments as “the essence” of the reforms his government had committed to carrying out.

In the referendum that was held on April 30, 2023, according to official statements, over 90 percent of voters approved the changes. Although the updated constitution has provisions on human rights and freedom of speech, these are overshadowed by the reality that the true purpose of the referendum was to cement Mirziyoyev in the presidency for many years to come. Soon after the referendum, Mirziyoyev called for a snap presidential election, to be held in early July. Everything the Uzbek president has done, quite like his constitution, is a mere populist move and a façade for efforts to tighten his grip on power. 

When Mirziyoyev came to power in 2016, the bar was already low. Before him, Islam Karimov, the first president of Uzbekistan, ruled the country with an iron fist for over 25 years. In the West, Karimov was known as a tyrant who boiled prisoners alive, suppressed religious freedoms, expelled foreign human rights activists and journalists while arresting locals, and killed the regime’s opponents abroad. He crushed every form of dissent, starting with a students’ riot over “soaring prices and bread shortages” in Tashkent in 1992, which ended with the death of two people according to the government’s account (many more in other accounts), and extending to the massacre of protesters in Andijan in 2005, which a Guardian headline at the time guilelessly hoped signaled the “end of Karimov’s regime.”

At home, Karimov fashioned himself as the founding father of Uzbekistan – the one who led the country to independence and built a foundation for the nation's future prosperity. The prosperity he envisioned was perpetually imminent. “Uzbekistan is a country with a great future!” was one of his most famous sayings; it was displayed on billboards and placards all over the country, including in schools and local government offices. Every restriction Karimov’s government imposed – be it on the freedom of speech or movement or conscience – was explained as a sacrifice in the name of peace and stability. 

Because Mirziyoyev was handpicked by Karimov himself in 2003 and worked as his prime minister for 13 years, he could not fully distance himself from Karimov’s name even after the first president’s death. Instead, he promised to continue Karimov’s political legacy. “Since the first days of our country's independence, Mirziyoev has gained the high trust of the First President of the Republic of Uzbekistan, Islam Karimov, and has been working effectively as his close colleague and adviser,” read the biography of Mirziyoyev posted on the website of the Liberal Democratic Party, Uzbekistan’s ruling party, when it was shared with the public for the first time at the start of the presidential campaign in 2016. 

Yet Mirziyoyev tried to paint a different portrait of himself as the 2016 election aimed to secure his hold on power. He chose to be cast as a “reformer.” 

Mirziyoyev’s reforms indeed brought some fresh air to Uzbekistan. He freed dozens of political prisoners, closed the notorious Jaslyk prison, sympathized with labor migrants (unlike Karimov, who demeaned them as “lazy beggars”), and required government officials to be in touch with the public via online platforms. On the diplomatic front, he worked to attract foreign investors and established amicable relationships with neighboring countries, opening long-closed borders and working to solve border disputes. Uzbekistan’s period of isolation seemed to be over. 

The reforms were especially appealing to younger generations – reforms in education generated more opportunities for the youth. For example, 122 new universities were launched in just six years, increasing the number of higher education institutions from only 77 in 2016 to 199 in 2022. Among these institutions are 25 private universities and 30 foreign universities and their branches.

One of Mirziyoyev’s landmark domestic policies was finally abolishing forced labor. Mobilizing schoolchildren, college students, health and education workers to pick cotton every fall was a common practice in Uzbekistan. People were often also forced to clean streets under the pressure of being expelled from school or losing their jobs. Mirziyoyev pledged to abolish the practice soon after his election and even mentioned the issue in his first U.N. General Assembly speech in 2017. By 2022, Uzbekistan had succeeded in abolishing forced labor and was heralded by activists for doing so.

However, crediting Mirziyoyev as a sole initiator in this development is wrong. Uzbek civil society activists, as early as 2007, were sending open letters to the European Union and the governments of the United States, Russia, and China, as well as international intergovernmental organizations such as the World Bank and the International Labor Organization. They started calling for a boycott of Uzbek cotton in 2009. The Company Pledge Against Forced Labor in the Cotton Sector of Uzbekistan, also known as the Cotton Pledge, was launched by the Cotton Campaign and Responsible Sourcing Network (RSN) a year later and was eventually signed by 331 apparel companies and brands worldwide. Due to international pressure, Uzbekistan started slowly abolishing forced labor in the early 2010s. By 2015, schoolchildren were not sent to cotton fields anymore, a major achievement. Only later, under Mirziyoyev’s “New Uzbekistan,” was the full eradication of forced labor guaranteed by the government. The Economist named it the most improved nation of 2019 for being a “place that abolished slavery.” 

In New Uzbekistan, there are fewer bureaucratic hurdles for ordinary citizens – for example, a two-year exit visa to travel abroad was replaced with a travel passport valid for 10 years. And the propiska (residence permit) system was scrapped. Under the system, only officially registered residents of the capital could work in Tashkent, but it was nearly impossible to get a propiska in the city. These small reforms, however, mostly served to gain public sympathy while Mirziyoyev pursued his real political goal of consolidating power. 

Notably, none of Mirziyoyev’s reforms served to hold his government accountable, weaken his regime, or allow it to be openly criticized.

“Mirziyoyev’s goal is not to build liberal democracy, but to create a slightly more prosperous, reputable and globally integrated Uzbekistan,” noted Paul Stronski in a 2020 article for World Politics Review. He called the reforms “preventive,” part of an effort to forestall possible public unrest and put off total discontent with the regime. 

The reforms often served two purposes: a populist aim paired with regime security. For example, Mirziyoyev’s immediate efforts to restrain the authority of the country’s security forces eliminated an element of fear that Uzbek citizens experienced in everyday life, but it also helped him to root out Karimov-era loyalists. The National Guard, which started off as a small brigade, became a separate ministry under Mirziyoyev’s presidency and is gaining more authority and accumulating tasks year by year, becoming a powerful structure. “[T]he National Guard is increasingly taking over the functions of the State Security Service and the Ministry of Internal Affairs, or, on the contrary, these three departments are engaged in the implementation of the same tasks simultaneously,” noted a recent article from Radio Ozodlik, the Uzbek service of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty. 

Political pluralism is nowhere on the horizon, either. Although Mirziyoyev promised political competition, no independent presidential candidate was allowed to run for the office during the 2021 elections. Jahongir Otajonov, a well-known singer and opposition activist who wanted to compete with Mirziyoyev, was denied registration and was even threatened. In a similar fashion, the Truth and Progress (Haqiqat va Taraqqiyot) party could not get registered because, according to the authorities, it was only able to collect 9,800 out of the required 20,000 signatures to be registered. The Erk Democratic Party and the People’s Interest (Xalq Manfaatlari) party were also pressured to stay out of the 2021 elections. 

After starting his second term in 2021, and amid slowing momentum in the overarching reform program, Mirziyoyev turned to amending the constitution. 

This is not the first time Uzbekistan has changed its constitution in its three decades of independence, nor is it the first time such a process has primarily served the political interests of Uzbekistan’s president. 

The process of constitutional amendment was presented by Mirziyoyev as a foundation to continue the reforms to build New Uzbekistan and to reflect public demands. A special commission was created in 2022 and tasked with studying all the proposals sent by people to an online platform. However, when the first version of the document was presented to the public, people took to the streets in Karakalpakstan, not only the largest region in Uzbekistan but technically a sovereign republic itself with a unique place in the Uzbek Constitution. The first proposed version of the new constitution, however, removed Karakalpakstan’s sovereign status, much to the local population’s dismay.

The region, which became part of Soviet Uzbekistan in 1936, briefly declared independence in 1990 but re-joined Uzbekistan by 1993 with provisions in the constitution that ensured its sovereignty. These provisions enshrined the possibility that through a referendum the region could choose to secede from Uzbekistan again in the future. Given that Karakalpaks are an ethnic minority group with a distinct language – and Karakalpakstan itself has the highest rate of poverty in the country, low access to drinking water, poor services, and distinct environmental and health problems related to Aral Sea disaster (respiratory diseases, cancer, high child and maternal mortality, and so on) – the possibility of secession has always bothered the Uzbek government. To prevent this, the first draft constitution simply did not mention the region’s right to secede. 

When the draft amendments were published online, it sparked a three-day protest. On July 1, 2022, the biggest protests Uzbekistan had seen since the 2005 Andijan unrest broke out in Nukus, Karakalpakstan’s capital. According to official reports, 21 people died; 243 were injured and 516 detained. Other sources count far greater numbers – including almost 80 deaths. Mirziyoyev himself had to fly to Karakalpakstan and promise to keep the region’s special status in the constitution. Nevertheless he also quickly declared a state of emergency in the region “in order to ensure the security of citizens, defend their rights and freedoms, and restore the rule of law and order.” In the months that followed, Karakalpak leaders and activists who were vocal against the first proposed constitutional draft were blamed for the unrest, arrested, and ultimately sentenced to lengthy prison terms. 

Because of the protests, the constitutional referendum was postponed and carried out only in April 2023. According to the authorities, one-fourth of the more than 220,000 proposals received by the constitutional commission were incorporated into the new version, representing updates to about 65 percent of the document. The number of constitutional articles increased from 128 to 155 and provisions ballooned from 275 to 434. 

Following a blueprint Karimov had perfected, Mirziyoyev’s constitution also extended the presidential term from five to seven years. In 2003, Karimov did the same and in 2011 the extension was reversed. In reviewing all of the amendments, it’s clear that all branches of the government have greater obligations and authority under the new constitution. The specifics of how these new provisions will work in practice have yet to be sorted out. Critically, the new constitution legally extends the power of the president over other parts of the government. 

For example, candidates for the prime minister post will now be directly submitted by the president “after consultations with all factions of political parties.” Mirziyoyev will also be able to dissolve the Legislative Chamber, Uzbekistan’s lower house, if the deputies reject a candidate for the position of prime minister three times, meaning there is a steep political penalty for rejecting too many of the president’s recommendations for the position. Previously, the political party that won the largest number of seats in the elections to the Legislative Chamber or a coalition of parties making up a majority used to propose a candidate to the president and the president would submit the candidacy to the full parliament for approval. Of course, the largest party in the Uzbek parliament has always been the president’s party, so this system has never truly been tested with an opposition in control of the legislative apparatus.

In another change, the number of senators in the new constitution is to be reduced from 100 to 65 as of 2024. The Senate will also no longer take part in the appointment of the prime minister or in votes of no confidence. In addition, if the Senate does not make a decision on a proposed law within 60 days, the Legislative Chamber will be able to send it directly to the president, who now has 60 days to consider legislation instead of the previous 30 days. 

Despite all of these reforms, New Uzbekistan remains an authoritarian state and nowhere is it more visible than in regard to the freedom of speech and expression. In repeated presidential speeches, the public and the media have been promised these freedoms, and new legislation also enshrined these rights. And yet, the experience and practice of free speech in Uzbekistan remains heavily constrained and treading outside the red lines set by the government incurs punishment. 

During the first two years of his presidency, Mirziyoyev encouraged journalists and bloggers to speak freely and even criticize government officials. That set higher expectations for media representatives. In practice, however, journalists and activists increasingly work under pressure and succumb to self-censorship as a result. In 2022, Mirziyoyev restated his promise, noting “in the legal democratic state that we are building, freedom of speech and press will always be under the protection of our constitution, laws, and the president.” But the media is still largely controlled by the government. 

This year Uzbekistan slipped by four places in the World Press Freedom Index, published by Reporters Without Borders, to rank 137th. “Following the 2016 death of President Islam Karimov, circumstances have only barely improved for the media, and criticizing state power remains complicated,” the report stated. The State Security Service continuously harasses reporters and bloggers, pressuring them to delete stories published online. 

“At the moment, being a journalist in Uzbekistan is a very cautious and modest profession,” said Sanjar Said, a journalist and blogger from Uzbekistan in a recent interview with the BBC. 

Dauletmurat Tajimuratov, a Karakalpak lawyer, blogger, and journalist who called on people to rally peacefully against the constitutional reforms as proposed in July 2022 was charged with organizing public riots and sentenced to a 16-year prison term. 

Lolagul Kallikhanova, who was an administrator of the “Makan” internet publication, was also arrested for “distributing materials based on the ideas of separatism and calling the population to protest through social networks.” Although the prosecutor asked for her to be jailed for 11 years, she was released from the courtroom. “I think the fact that I am a woman is taken into account. I will soon be 34 years old, and if given 11 years, I would have passed the childbearing age. That's why I think I was given a release,” she said quietly in an interview for a local media outlet after the trial ended earlier this year. 

Not only does no one challenge the government openly, but any criticism toward high-ranking officials or important businesspeople is equally met with repression. 

Otabek Sattoriy, an independent journalist and blogger who covered local corruption, was arrested in 2021 and charged with extortion and slander, charges that many believe were fabricated. He was sentenced to six and a half years in prison as a result. Another blogger, Hojiakbar Nosirov, who gained popularity for criticizing different products in his social media channels, got a 15-day sentence on April 8, 2023, for telling his followers that yogurt products sold in shops are not necessarily halal due to a certain additive. He was charged with administrative liability under the pretext of spreading materials that promote national, racial, ethnic, or religious hatred and failure to comply with the legal requirements of internal affairs. On issues large and small, from corruption to yogurt ingredients, Uzbek journalists and bloggers – or anyone commenting in public – continue to face the possibility that their words will land them in trouble.

Foreign journalists also face pressure. Joanna Lillis, a British journalist covering the protests in Nukus in the summer of 2022, was briefly detained on July 4 and was forced to delete photos and videos from her phone.

The New Uzbekistan is indeed different. It is not the same Uzbekistan as existed under Karimov’s reign. People have more opportunities in terms of work and their economic prospects. Greater changes are observed in socioeconomic life. And because of the initial reforms and countless promises made by Mirziyoyev, Uzbek people now have higher standards for, and greater expectations from, their government. These greater expectations are a risk, however, and in part explain Mirziyoyev’s rush to hold snap elections before another crisis arises (such as the energy crisis in the winter of 2022-2023, which sparked public discontent) or people forget the novelty of the initial reforms. 

The upcoming presidential election, which is now scheduled for July 9, will be won by Mirziyoyev; there is no doubt about that. The constitutional referendum, above all, served to nullify Mirziyoyev’s first two terms, leaving the road ahead open for him to serve for 14 more years – through 2037. But this ambition may not come to pass. Uzbeks have seen the power of large-scale protests to force a government to change its position; they understand the importance of having their voices heard. Mirziyoyev’s populist promises, in the short term, have served to secure his regime in power, but in the longer term, the Uzbek people will expect those promises to be fulfilled.