Dipartimento di Scienze Politiche Cattedra: Modern Political Atlas

Water and Conflict in the Ferghana Valley: Historical Foundations of the Interstate Water Disputes Between and

RELATORE Prof. Riccardo Mario Cucciolla

CANDIDATO Alessandro De Stasio Matr. 630942

ANNO ACCADEMICO 2017/2018

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Sommario Introduction ...... 4 1. The Water-Security Nexus and the Ferghana Valley ...... 9 1.1. Water and Conflict ...... 9 1.1.1. Water uses ...... 9 1.1.2. Water security and water scarcity ...... 10 1.1.3. Water as a potential source of conflict ...... 16 1.1.4. River disputes ...... 25 1.2. The Ferghana Valley ...... 30 1.2.1. Geography, hydrography, demography and agriculture ...... 30 1.2.2. Borders ...... 34 2. The Revolution of the Valley: Rise and Development of Cotton and Irrigation From to the Second World War (1868-1945) ...... 37 2.1. The Russian Rule: 1868 – 1917 ...... 37 2.1.1. Motivations and Chronology of the Expansion ...... 37 2.1.2. Rise and Development of Cotton Cropping ...... 42 2.1.3. Irrigation Between Ambitions and Bureaucracy ...... 46 2.2. Change and Continuity: the Soviet Policy in Central Asian Agriculture and Water Management from 1917 to 1945...... 52 2.2.1. Revolutions ...... 52 2.2.2. Early Soviet policies: Land and Water Reform and National Territorial Delimitation (1918-1929) .. 54 2.2.3. Stalin’s era and World War II (1929-1945) ...... 62 3. A New Era in Water Management: The Dawn of Reservoirs ...... 70 3.1. Cotton and Irrigation Expansion in Post-War : The Premises For Reservoirs’ Development 72 3.2. Cotton Above All: The Birth and Development of the Imbalanced Water Allocation on Transboundary Watercourses ...... 76 3.2.1. The Kasansai Reservoir ...... 77 3.2.2. The Toktogul and Reservoirs ...... 78 3.2.3. The Tortgul Reservoir ...... 83 3.2.4. Protocol 1980 and 1984: Paving the Way for Post-Independence Disputes ...... 85 4. The Fragmentation of the Basin: Political Independence and Water Interdependency After 1991 ...... 92 4.1. Tug-of-War Over the : Failure of Diplomacy, Energy Crises and Retaliations ...... 94 4.1.1. Water and Energy Scheme at the Time of Independence...... 94 4.1.2. The Almaty Agreement and Its Failure (1992-1995) ...... 97 4.1.3. The Energy Barter: The Annual Bilateral Accords and the 1998 Multilateral Agreement (1995-2005) ...... 103 2

4.1.4. Diverging Energy Policies ...... 110 4.2. STTs and Local Disputes: Case Studies From the , and Kasansai Basins...... 115 4.2.1. The Isfara Basin ...... 117 4.2.2. The Sokh Basin: The Case of Southern Border of Sokh Enclave ...... 122 4.2.3. Operation and Maintenance in Transboundary Facilities: The Case of the Kasansai Reservoir 125 Conclusion ...... 130 Bibliography ...... 133

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Introduction

The Ferghana Valley is a landlocked plain in the middle of former , almost totally isolated from the rest of the region by the surrounding mountain ranges. Politically, it is shared by Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and . Its geographical features, in terms of climate, hydrography and location, has made it a strategic area throughout the history. It hosted an important route of the ancient Silk Road, was the heart of the powerful Kokand khanate in XVIIIth century, and was a relevant economic centre in the Tsarist colony of at first, and in Soviet Central Asia later. In the last two decades, the valley has been subject to numerous escalations of violence. From ethnic clashes to Islamic radicalism, it has often been presented as an unstable land. For the purpose of this thesis, another aspect is important in order to understand the relevance of this area for regional dynamics. Indeed, since 1991, Ferghana Valley has increasingly become a hotspot in bilateral relations among neighbouring Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, in competition over water. However, the rhetorical and often summary classification of this kind of tensions as a water conflict should be carefully clarified. There is a rich literature about whether and how water could trigger major confrontations among its users or, more in general, its stakeholders. The answer is not uniform. Besides the evidence of an actual competition over the access to the resource, especially when it approaches a condition of scarcity, a great part of the studies underlines the cooperative response usually adopted by the involved States. One of the pillars of those theses is the ratio between the number of agreements and the amount of conflict events occurred over hydric resources, by far in favour of the former. In this sense, a clarification must be done about the term “conflict”. As explained below, it does not necessarily refer to conventional wars or military confrontations only, but includes a range of destabilising events, from civil unrest, to hostile rhetoric and attitudes between two States. As the following chapters will show, this is exactly the case of Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan, and, to a lesser extent, Tajikistan, relations. In the Ferghana Valley, they interact in a peculiar geographical and hydrographical setting. The valley is crossed by a big river, the Syr Darya, and by several small tributaries, which originate in the surrounding mountains. While the plain, where the minor streams flow into the main stem of the Syr Darya, mostly lies in Uzbek territory, the headwaters of such watercourses are hosted by Kyrgyzstan. This situation, defined in literature as an upstream/downstream relation, presents the highest potential for conflict among the configurations in which two or more

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States share a water source. Nevertheless, different scholars have provided accurate analyses about the precise features such a relationship should present for a conflict to occur more likely. The geographical configuration is not sufficient. A combination of different factors must be considered in examining the conflict potential of the dyad. In particular, a situation in which the downstream country is militarily superior, in dire need of the water resource, and perceiving the upstream one as deliberately overexploiting the river, emerges as the most troublesome context. According to this kind of analysis, the Uzbek-Kyrgyz relationship appears to be a highly unstable one. As regarding water, they are in a situation of power balance. Throughout the years, the resulting balance has rarely led to sound and effective agreements, but, rather, to a diplomatic and political standoff, marked by a harsh rhetoric, reciprocal retaliations, dangerous energy crises and localised violence. Geographical and economic features play a decisive role in prompting such risky stalemate. From a hydrographical perspective, Kyrgyzstan can be considered the dominant actor, as far as it is in control of almost all the water sources of the downstream Uzbek part of the valley. Indeed, its geographically upper position and the presence of several huge flow-controlling facilities, allow it to strongly interfere with the natural water discharge of the rivers. It represents a relevant tool for exerting pressure on the downstream counterpart. On the contrary, Uzbekistan can exploit its superiority from a military, economic and political point of view. Being the dyad’s hegemon, in terms of military power, GDP, energy resources, and regional political influence, the country has often used these elements to press its upstream neighbour or to retaliate against the latter’s hostile acts. However, the assertion that the status quo of water setting in the Ferghana Valley could allegedly trigger interstate tensions needs a deeper insight. Empirically, it has been displayed that the Uzbek-Kyrgyz dyad matches the high-conflict-potential profile as emerged from theoretical findings. But this does not explain why, in fact, this setting has proved to be a decisive element in fostering conflict behaviours between the States. Why has water proved to be so vital for Uzbekistan? Why should Kyrgyzstan block rivers’ flow? What do the countries struggle over? Such questions lead to the main purpose of this thesis. Indeed, the present analysis aims at identifying the historical foundations of the post-independence water management system, that has set the stage for a constant worsening in inter-republican relations, but also the eruption of numerous cases of localised violence. The expected outcome will highlight a direct link between this conflict-prone configuration and Soviet and, to a lesser extent, Tsarist policies.

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Indeed, starting from the theoretical variables that determine a situation of conflict in a river basin, the analysis tries to investigate how those characteristics have arisen in the case of Ferghana Valley. Why has Uzbekistan been historically in a superior military, political and economic position vis-à-vis the upstream riparian? Why has Kyrgyzstan become increasingly able and willing to control rivers’ releases, and use it as a weapon against its downstream neighbour? Why has water become so important for the region, and for Uzbekistan in particular? In answering those three questions, it is possible to identify at least four trends, which date back to Tsarist and, especially, to Soviet times. The development of a thriving cotton sector is the central and starting point of the any study about water in Central Asia. The importance of the cash crop for the economies of the Russian Empire and, subsequently, of the USSR, led to the specialisation of the region in this cultivation. For geographical reasons, the bulk of the production was concentrated downstream, with the Ferghana Valley playing a crucial role for its hydrological and climatic features. On the one hand, this allowed a greater economic development of the downstream regions vis-à-vis mountainous ones, but implanted those economies on a highly water-consuming crop, which required massive irrigation. A second step towards the current scenario happened in 1920s, with the border-drawing policy carried out by Soviets. Indeed, it was the act that actually resected local rivers into two sections: the headwaters belonging to the newly established Kyrgyz ASSR (later, Kyrgyz SSR), the tail-ends or main courses to the Uzbek SSR. However, this never represented a concrete issue until 1960s. Kyrgyz control was theoretical, but there was not the technological ability to regulate a river flow in its mountainous stages. Indeed, irrigation had developed downstream, through a tangles network of canals, and, in Ferghana Valley, it was in total control of Uzbekistan. Again, cotton called for an improvement in the irrigation methods, and the construction of big flow-regulating reservoirs started. Geographically, the facilities could ensure an effective regulation only if built upstream the cotton fields of Uzbekistan. As a consequence, by 1980s, Kyrgyzstan hosted on its territory almost all the major reservoirs that underpinned downstream cotton – and economy. However, the reasoning should take into consideration that Soviet Socialist Republics were actually administrative units of a wider Union, although granted a considerable degree of autonomy in certain sectors. As such, their economies followed precise directives from Moscow, and contributed to the Union-wide economic interests. Thus, Central Asian, and, especially, Ferghana’s, water system was conceived and managed as a unitary system, serving the primary interest of central government in the region, namely cotton cropping. Hence, water allocation was planned accordingly, with the bulk of

6 discharges available to downstream producers, leaving upstream all the non-monetary costs, in terms of flooded lands and resettled population. Naturally, this created a highly imbalanced situation, triggering a resentment on the Kyrgyz side. Nonetheless, the authority of Moscow did not allow any major retaliation by the damaged party. Even when the upstream Republic tried to obtain its compensation by force, central government soon reacted through mediation or impositions, restoring a stability that would not hamper its economic interests. Logically, the collapse of the Union, the arising of international borders and national economic interests, but, mainly, the disappearance of the dominant figure of Moscow over regional affairs in 1991, reversed the existing scheme of water management. After early attempts to cooperate, States resorted to unilateralism in order to maximise their own resources. This trend was particularly evident in the energy sector, and initiated a series of retaliations that highlighted the paradoxical context inherited by the Soviet period. A stronger Uzbekistan totally depended on upstream water releases, while Kyrgyzstan in turn relied on downstream energy for a great part of its domestic demand, and was heavily limited by the constraints of its poor economy. The analysis will adopt the following structure. In chapter one, a review of the existing literature in the field of water security and water conflict will be carried out. It will be an useful tool for subsequent reading, in order to better understand why certain historical trends have contributed to set up conflict-prone conditions in the valley. Starting from the worrying situation and forecasts worldwide about the availability of water, and how this could trigger competition over it, the focus will be brought onto the specific studies on water conflicts. After defining the term conflict as it will be meant in this thesis, five factors will be identified as sources for possible water-induced conflicts: Scarcity or mismanagement; geographical features; relative power of the actors involved; pre-existing conflict among them; allocation criteria. As evident during the subsequent chapters, those elements are critical ones in the Ferghana Valley’s case. In particular, as stated above, the geographical setting represents the fundamental weakness of the dyad. Indeed, as previously upheld, river disputes, and especially upstream/downstream ones, will appear as the most unstable. In the conclusive paragraphs of the chapter, a description of the principal features of the valley will lay down the context for the historical survey. Chapter two will initiate the proper historical research. The focal point of the first part of the chapter will be on the Tsarist agricultural policies. Under specific economic and political circumstances, the decision to bet on cotton growing in Turkestan would prove to be crucial for

7 the subject of the present analysis. Indeed, regional specialisation in cotton cropping would barely oblige according choices by Soviet rulers, prompting the conditions for a massive withdrawals from local rivers. Soviet period will be instead fundamental for the political organisation of the valley. The national territorial delimitation policies from 1924 to 1936 were a milestone in regional politics, and would result essential for the control of the water resources. On the economic side, the ever growing cotton sector was sided by huge investments in irrigation infrastructures, beginning a vicious circle of land and water overexploitation. Chapter three represents the link between the first two chapters and the analysis of post- independence context. Indeed, in the period examined therein, the water management scheme begins to take the form that would fuel inter-republican disputes after 1991 until today. The construction of transboundary reservoirs appears to be the watershed of regional water politics, followed by the according water allocation policy. In particular, the chapter, through the analysis of the processes of negotiation over reservoirs and water agreements, will examine how the structural weaknesses of the new infrastructural and institutional configuration were covered and neutralised by the centralised action of the central government. The paradoxes of the tangled water system of the valley would hardly resist to the disappearance of the hegemon. Indeed, in chapter four, the consequences of Soviet policies will be presented. A special focus will be on the water-energy crisis, which affected inter-republican relations for the whole 1990s and 2000s. A review of the major agreements and their failure will be useful to understand the impact of Soviet legacies, in terms of infrastructures and accords, on regional stability. The second part of the chapter will deepen another aspect of water-induced conflicts: local disputes. Indeed, a range of secondary aspects of the Soviet water management produced serious effect at users level, often ending in violence or military mobilisation. Three case studies will be presented. The Isfara river basin, and the Aksai- confrontation, together with the Sokh river basin, and the Sogment-Khush’iar-Charbak case, will underline the impact of the “materialisation” of international borders on institutional and day-to-day context, after the integrated management and planning under Soviet administration. The Kasansai case will instead highlight the phenomenon of transboundary facilities owned by Uzbekistan. This kind of anomaly was triggered particular tensions during the years of border closing, up to military mobilisation of 2016.

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1. The Water-Security Nexus and the Ferghana Valley

1.1. Water and Conflict

1.1.1. Water uses

When assessing water as a resource, drinking appears to be the most urgent activity requiring its availability for human beings. However, humans rely on water for several other basic needs, like cooking, personal washing, clothes and home hygiene, growing food, sanitation and waste disposal. Looking beyond mere survival activities, one can also need water for business use, like crops or livestock, and for recreation reasons. Technical notes by the World Health Organization (WHO) report a simplified table displaying the required quantity per day for a person to survive. Taking into consideration “survival (drinking and food)”, “basic hygiene practices” and “basic cooking needs”, the table indicates 7.5 to 15 litres per day as the minimum quantity for survival1, which are up to 5,475 litres in a year, roughly corresponding to 5.5 m3 per capita per year. However, domestic water use accounts for just 10% of total worldwide water withdrawals.2 Water is an essential resource for several other activities and sectors: it is used for sanitation, transportation, hydropower production, livelihoods such as fishing, and industry3. Nevertheless, the most water-consuming sector is, by far, agriculture. Almost 70% of the total water withdrawals feed agriculture through irrigation, a percentage that could rise up to 95% in countries where agriculture is the primary economic activity4, while industry is accountable for the remaining 20%5.

1 WHO, WEDC, How much water is needed in emergencies (Geneva: World Health Organization, 2013), 9.2. 2 William J. Cosgrove and Frank R. Rijsberman for the World Water Council, “The Use of Water Today”, in World Water Vision (London: Earthscan Publications Ltd, 2000), 7. 3 Velma I. Grover, “Introduction”, in Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation?, ed. Velma I. Grover (Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007), 11. 4 UN-Water, Coping with water scarcity: challenge of the twenty-first century, paper for World Water Day 2007 (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization , 2007), 10. 5Cosgrove and Rijsberman, “The Use of Water Today”, 7. 9

Therefore, agriculture is the real issue for any discussion about water resources. It constitutes a fundamental factor in the social, economic and political equilibrium of a country, with possible remarkable transboundary effects as well. Indeed, agriculture is the main economic activity and income source in large part of the world, important driver for socio-economic, in particular rural, development6. But agriculture is also essential for food production. It is estimated that 90% of the current world population could not fulfil its dietary needs without agriculture7. The production of food requires dramatic quantity of water, up to thousands of litres for one kilogramme of product, depending on the type of crop and climatic conditions. Water can be collected from rain or water resources such as surface and groundwater sources. Rainfed agriculture accounts for 80% of the world’s cultivated land, while irrigation feeds 275 million hectares – 20% of cultivated land in the world, allowing 40% of global food production8. According to a calculation by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), the current water withdrawals for irrigation for food production are estimated to be between 2,000 and 2,500 km3 per year worldwide9. That is why water is per se a strategic resource. To different extents, countries rely on mass water withdrawals for the most important sectors of their economies: from agricultural products, be they food exportations or other types of crops, like tobacco and cotton, to industry and energy production. The latter case will be particularly interesting for the purpose of this thesis, since hydropower is among the main dispute-triggering elements between two states sharing a river, especially between those positioned in a so-called upstream-downstream relation.

1.1.2. Water security and water scarcity

Despite the strategic role water plays for human activities, the importance of the resource does not explain its potential for being a source of conflict. The concepts of water security and water scarcity and the current situation of water availability will provide some inputs to understand why the hydric resource is such a crucial factor in relations among states sharing basins.

6 Grover, “Introduction”, 11. 7 United Nations, “Water for People Water for Life”, World Water Assessment Programme (WWAP), (Barcelona: UNESCO Publishing, 2003), 200. 8 UNESCO, “Facts and Figures, Agriculture is the largest consumer of freshwater”, World Water Assessment Programme (WWAP), available at http://www.unesco.org/new/en/natural-sciences/environment/water/wwap/facts- and-figures/all-facts-wwdr3/fact2-agricultural-use/. 9 FAO, “The use of water in agriculture”, in Agriculture, food and water (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2003). 10

As for water security, a wide range of definitions has been offered. Mainly depending on the scope of the study or activity the authors were engaged in, they deal with either the pure strategic aspect or a broad meaning of the term. In the latter case, it includes the elements of water scarcity and supply, climate change and food security10. Two definitions have been selected for envisaging the wide range of aspects related to water and the threats deriving from its presence or absence. David Grey and Claudia W. Sadoff define water security as “the availability of an acceptable quantity and quality of water for health, livelihoods, ecosystems and production, coupled with an acceptable level of water-related risks to people, environments and economies”11. Similarly, Bart Schultz and Stefan Uhlenbrook state that “Water security involves the sustainable use and protection of water systems, the protection against water related hazards (floods and droughts), the sustainable development of water resources and the safeguarding of (access to) water functions and services for humans and the environment”12. Such definitions interpret water security as the security of both the resource (“availability of an acceptable quantity and quality of water”, “the sustainable use and protection of water systems”) and the stakeholders, namely the users and the environment (“acceptable level of water-related risks to people, environments and economies”, “protection against water related hazards (floods and droughts), […] safeguarding of (access to) water functions and services for humans and the environment”). As it will be clear when talking about water scarcity, security of the resource - namely its availability - and security of the users and the environment - in the forms of access to water, protection from natural disasters and potential for conflict – are tightly interrelated. Indeed, water scarcity is defined as “the point at which the aggregate impact of all users impinges on the supply or quality of water under prevailing institutional arrangements to the extent that the demand by all sectors, including the environment, cannot be satisfied fully”13. This definition, provided by the United Nations (UN)-Water14 for the World Water Day in 200715, is particularly

10 Virpi Stucki and Suvi Sojamo, “Nouns and Numbers of the Water-Energy-Security Nexus in Central Asia”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 28, no. 3 (2012): 400. 11 David Grey and Caludia W. Sadoff, “Sink or Swim? Water security for growth and development”, Water Policy 9 (2007): 547-548. 12 Bart Schultz and Stefan Uhlenbrook, “’Water Security’: What does it mean? What may it imply?”, Discussion draft paper for the UNESCO-IHE meeting on Water Security (Delft, 13 June 2007), 2. 13 UN-Water, “Coping with water scarcity”, 4. 14 UN-Water is an inter-agency mechanism that coordinates the action of UN agencies and organisations engaged in water and sanitation issues. See: UN Water, “What we do”, available at http://www.unwater.org/what-we-do/. 11 enlightening. It clearly describes three important aspects of water scarcity: the role of the users in stressing water supply, the role of institutional arrangements in water management and the competition among different users for water as a resource. The focus of such statement is not on the physical or natural availability of the resource, but on the actual availability for different users under the current circumstances. In fact, data about water resources on earth do legitimise the approach used by UN-Water. 1,650 million km3, corresponding to 0.25 km3 per person, have been calculated as the total amount of water on our planet. Nevertheless, only 3% of it is freshwater and can be used for human consumption (the remaining 97% is saltwater). 87% of the total freshwater is not directly available, since it is inaccessible in icecaps or deep aquifers, or polluted16. Indeed, only 13% of freshwater is actually available for human consumption worldwide. As reported by Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, the world run-off per capita will be 4,692 m3 by 202517. that is far above the indicator of water scarcity18. Indeed, Malin Falkenmark calculated that water scarcity is approached when the availability falls between 1,000 m3 and 1,700 m3 per capita per year, that is roughly 3,000 m3 per year less than the mentioned forecast19. Water scarcity is much more a matter of geographic distribution, allocation and management. The uneven distribution of water resources is one of the main cause of regional and local water scarcity. Annual availability per person in North America is about 17,000 m3, while the African continent as a whole has a run-off of 6,000 m3 20, and Jordan less than 200 m3 21. As concerning Middle East and North Africa, only 1% of total usable freshwater is found there, while regional inhabitants account for 5% of world’s population22.

15 International World Water Day is a UN observance day, established in 1992 and held annually on 22 March, that aims at advocating the sustainable management of freshwater resources. See: World Water Day 22 March, “Background”, available at http://www.un.org/en/events/waterday/background.shtml. 16 Nils P. Gleditsch, Håvard Hegre and Hans P. W. Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, in Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation?, ed. Velma I. Grover (Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007), 41-42. 17 Ibid. 18 In fact, the index measures water stress instead of water scarcity. However, since the terms “water scarcity” and “water stress” are often used as interchangeable terms or have been attributed different meanings by different authors, this paper will use them as synonyms. Thus, both water scarcity and water stress are defined as in UN-Water “Coping with water scarcity”, 4. 19 Peter H. Gleick et al., The World’s Water 2002-2003: The Biennal Report On Freshwater Resources (Washington: Island Press, 2002), 98. 20 Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 42. 21 UN-Water, “Coping with water scarcity”, 9. 22 Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 42. 12

Water scarcity and water security are affected by several factors. In the last decades, four factors have played an important role in worsening the situation of the hydric resource: population growth, changing demographics, technological revolution and climate change23. 1. In 2017, the world’s population has been calculated as nearly 7.6 billion, with an annual growth of 1.10%. According to estimates by the Population Division of the UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, it is expected to reach 8.6 billion people in 2030, 9.8 in 2050 and 11.2 by 210024. In particular, half of the growth by 2050 is expected to concentrate in nine countries: Democratic Republic of Congo, Ethiopia, India, Indonesia, Nigeria, Pakistan, Uganda, the United Republic of Tanzania and the United States of America (US)25. Except for Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda, territories of all of those countries are interested by high or extremely high water risk, which is an aggregated index of selected indicators from the Physical Quantity, Quality and Regulatory & Reputational Risk26 categories identifying regions exposed to water-related risks27. Such high rate of demographic growth corresponds to increasing demand in several water-consuming sectors such as agriculture, industry, energy and domestic use, further stressing water supply. Neo-Malthusian thinking, expression of environmental pessimism, attributes to the growing population a decisive role in increasing resource scarcity. On the contrary, a more optimistic view upholds that human technological innovation will outpace population growth, thus nearly neutralising the latter’s effect on resource scarcity28. 2. Changing demographics basically refers to population movements and how they rearrange demographic distribution. Migration will increasingly concentrate people in narrower areas, whether they are developed countries or cities. Urbanisation has been the major migration phenomenon in the last decades: urban population has passed from 30% of the total world population in 1950 to 55% in 2018, and it is expected to reach 68% in 205029.

23 CNA, The Role of Water Stress in Instability and Conflict (CNA, 2017), 8. 24 UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division, World Population Prospects: The 2017 Revision, Key Findings and Advance Tables. Working Paper No. ESA/P/WP/248 (New York: United Nations, 2017), 2. 25 UNDESA, Population Division, World Population Prospects, 5. 26 “Physical risks related to quantity identify areas of concern regarding water quantity (e.g. droughts or floods) that may impact short or long term water availability”; “Physical risks related to quality identify areas of concern regarding water quality that may impact short or long term water availability”; “Regulatory and reputational risks identify areas of concern regarding uncertainty in regulatory change, as well as conflicts with the public regarding water issues”. See: World Resources Institute, Aqueduct, The Water Risk Atlas (2016), http://www.wri.org/our-work/project/aqueduct. 27 World Resources Institute, Aqueduct, The Water Risk Atlas. 28 Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 45. 29 UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division, World Urbanization Prospects: The 2018 Revision [key facts] (New York: United Nations, 2018). 13

Rising affluence will put higher pressure on few, and often already stressed, water resources and will raise the risk of scarcity in the targeted areas. Moreover, changing demographics also concerns food consumption patterns: influenced by urbanisation itself and increasing incomes worldwide, people are progressively modifying their diets30, often towards more water-intensive products, like meat or high-value crops31. 3. Technological revolution could also be seen as a factor affecting water stress. It allowed to harness more and more water for energy, industry, irrigation and personal domestic use, making water demand growing faster as the technological development progresses32. 4. Eventually, climate change is expected to account for about 20% of the global increase in water scarcity, and such increase will particularly hit those countries currently suffering the most from water shortages. The impact of this variable will be twofold: it will directly affect water availability through rising temperature and sea level, which will result in saltwater intrusion into fresh water resources; but it will cause ever increasing variability in climatic events, from precipitation to extreme weather events33. More unpredictable and frequent floods and droughts will stress water resources and agriculture. Indeed, they will pollute fresh water, trigger further migration and hamper normal agricultural cycles, thus heavily impacting on food security as a consequence34. As mentioned, the situation of water scarcity is affecting and will affect regions in a highly uneven way. Great disparities can be seen among different areas of the world but also within regions and countries. The crisis makes no distinction between rich and poor countries, since many of the most developed countries are suffering from high water risk, like California in the United States or several regions of China and India, even ranked as “extremely high water risk” regions35. Nonetheless, countries have different tools to face water challenge depending on their economic power. Overlooking infrastructural and technological capacity, one element should draw particular attention as a powerful weapon threatening further inequalities in world’s water crisis: virtual water trade. Virtual water is the water “embodied” in a product, referring to the water needed for its production and transformation processes. It could be defined either as the water used in reality

30 UN-Water, “Coping with water scarcity”, 9. 31 CNA, The Role of Water Stress in Instability and Conflict, 9. 32 UN-Water, “Coping with water scarcity”, 10; Grover, “Introduction”, 9. 33 UN-Water, “Coping with water scarcity”, 10, 11, 15. 34 CNA, The Role of Water Stress in Instability and Conflict, 9. 35 World Resources Institute, Aqueduct, The Water Risk Atlas. 14 for that product or the water that would have been required if the product had been produced where it is needed or consumed36. The latter definition highlights what is actually relevant for the case in point. Indeed, if a good “embodies” a certain quantity of water, by trading that good, countries virtually trade the water used for its production too. Therefore, virtual water trade can be seen as an alternative source of water37: states affected by water stress could import water- intensive products, thus substituting an environmental cost with an economic one. The world’s virtual water trade is estimated in 1,625 billion m3, covering around 40% of total water consumption. 80% of this trade concerns agricultural products38. According to A. Y. Hoekstra and P. Q. Hung, virtual water trade can be an instrument for increasing efficient water use, by allocating the production of water-intensive goods where water availability is higher or its use is more efficient39. However, economic inequalities usually make it a powerful tool for wealthier countries to delocalise the production of certain highly water-consuming food – or goods, more in general – in other countries. It allows them to fulfil national demand of those goods, without endeavouring environmental consequences40. Saved water can be reinvested in other sectors, thus virtually multiplying national water resources. The opportunity of trade benefits encourages exporter countries, often developing countries and in some cases already water-stressed regions like Sub-Saharan Africa41, to enhance the production of such water-intensive goods, fuelling a vicious cycle. An example of virtual water trade, that is relevant for the purpose of this thesis, is the case of cotton in Central Asia. This region has been facing increasing water stress due to several decades of irrational use of irrigation. Its agricultural sector has been based on cotton production (an highly water-consuming crop) for more than a century, and only in recent years Central Asian countries have been trying to reduce the share of cotton-sown lands. However, it remains one of the most important areas for cotton production. In particular, Uzbekistan is the third-largest exporter of cotton worldwide, while China – the world’s largest producer – is its principal trade partner. In

36 Arjen Y. Hoekstra, “Virtual Water Trade: Proceedings of the International Expert Meeting in Virtual Water Trade”, Value of Water Research Report Series, no. 12 (2003), 13. 37Hoekstra, “Virtual Water Trade”, 14. 38 UNESCO, “Facts and Figures, About 80% of global virtual water flows relate to agricultural products trade”, World Water Assessment Programme (WWAP), available at http://www.unesco.org/new/en/natural- sciences/environment/water/wwap/facts-and-figures/all-facts-wwdr3/fact-25-virtual-water-flows/. 39 Hoekstra, “Virtual Water Trade”, 14. 40 UN-Water, “Coping with water scarcity”, 10. 41 UNESCO, “Facts and Figures, About 80% of global virtual water flows relate to agricultural products trade”. 15 fact, China, by leveraging its economic and commercial power, is exporting the burden of its water scarcity to the already water-stressed Central Asian countries through virtual water trade.42

1.1.3. Water as a potential source of conflict

Resource-based conflicts

The main purpose of this chapter is to display the causal mechanisms between water scarcity and conflict. In order to do it, a brief examination of how a resource in general can be source of conflict appears to be useful. According to Daniel Buckles43, a natural resource is a potential cause of conflict for several reasons. First of all, natural resources exist in interconnected environments. It means that different users constantly interact for the use of the resource, both in a physical and a social space. Indeed, the physical environment the resource is “embedded” in allows actions by different users to have potential effects on other stakeholders. For instance, the pollution of a water flow by upstream users impinges on the utilization of the resource by downstream users, independently of the distance between the two actors. From a social perspective, several stakeholders – institutions, small-scale farmers, ethnic minorities, agricultural industry - interact through unequal relations, leading those with greater access to power to influence the resource allocation44. Second, as stated about water earlier in this chapter, increasing scarcity is a concrete danger for natural resources. Three principal elements impact on it: environmental change, population growth and unequal distribution. 1. Environmental change is the “human-induced decline in the quantity or quality of a renewable resource that occurs faster than it is renewed by natural process”45. Therefore, it does not envisage only the climate change, but any other activity that may limit the availability of the resource, such as overexploitation of it. 2. Population growth, instead, given a certain quantity of the resource, makes per capita endowment smaller, as explained in the paragraph about water scarcity.

42 Stucki, Sojamo, “Nouns and Numbers of the Water-Energy-Security Nexus in Central Asia”, 413.

43 Daniel Buckles, Cultivating Peace, Conflict and Collaboration in Natural Resource Management (Ottawa: IDRC/World Bank, 1999), 3. 44 Grover, “Introduction”, 4. 45 Thomas F. Homer-Dixon, “Environmental Scarcities and Violent Conflict: Evidence from Cases”, International Security 19, no. 1 (1994), 8. 16

3. Unequal distribution means that the resource is in the hands of few people, leaving the others dealing with greater scarcity46. Environmental scarcity, through reduced agricultural production, economic downturn or migration, can be an additional source of conflict among users47. Finally, natural resources have also a symbolical meaning. Indeed, they are an important part of specific ways of life (fisher, farmer, rancher), of an ethnic group or of a certain gender or age group within a community. Therefore, competition over natural resources could also assume an ideological and social significance for their stakeholders48.

Water-based conflicts

Among the natural resources, water presents several features that augment its potential as a source of conflict. Beyond its aforementioned importance as a strategic resource for survival and for economic and social development, water is frequently a transboundary resource. In fact, in the form of groundwater, lakes or, mostly, rivers, water regularly crosses international borders, usually involving in its basins more than two countries. To the highly complex environment the hydric resource is embedded in, another feature must be added. Water exists in all three different states – liquid, solid and gas – and this requires a multi-disciplinary approach in managing its distribution and utilization49. Such characteristics make water one of the most politicised resources. The danger of competition over the use of water has been given increasing attention by the academic and political world in the last decades50. Two streams of thought have arisen among scholars questioning whether water could be a source of conflict or cooperation. One of the first experts talking about water as a source of conflict was Ismail Serageldin, Vice- President of the World Bank, who in 1995 stated that “[m]any of the wars in this century were

46 Homer-Dixon, “Environmental Scarcities and Violent Conflict”, 8-9. 47Thomas F. Homer-Dixon, and Blitt, J., Ecoviolence: Links among Environment, Population, and Security (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998), 10. 48 Grover, “Introduction”, 5. 49 Ibid., 10. 50 Among the studies in the field of water conflict see: Thomas F. Homer-Dixon, and Blitt, J., Ecoviolence: Links among Environment, Population, and Security (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998); Velma I. Grover, Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation? (Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007); Arun P. Elhance, Hydropolitics in the 3rd World: Conflict and Cooperation in International River Basins, (Washington D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press,1999); Miriam R. Lowi, Water and power: The politics of a scarce resource in the Jordan River basin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Richard Just and Sinaia Netanyahu, Conflict and Cooperation on Trans-Boundary Water Resources (Boston: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1998); Frederick Frey and Thomas Naff, “Water: An Emerging Issue in the Middle East?”, The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science 65, no. 482 (1985), 65-84. 17 about oil, but wars of the next century will be over water”.51 Such strong wording was echoed by Kofi Annan in 2001 as Secretary of the United Nations, when he talked about the potential of water competition as war-causing factor.52 This kind of announcements had a specific task and actually reached their purposes: they drew the attention of the world on the problem of water, its increasing scarcity and the growing competition among its users. However, the scientific accuracy of those statements has been questioned by numerous studies. The growing awareness of the situation of water scarcity, the high number of shared basins in the world, soared in the 1990s after the collapse of the , and the demographic growth led some politicians to open the international debate about this theme. Nevertheless, several studies have tried to demonstrate that the worries arising from those declarations about water conflicts were not supported by evidence. The historical analysis of interstate behaviour in the context of shared water basins has been the most common approach. Nevertheless, the number of armed conflicts triggered by disputes over water in history seems moderate. Between 805 and 1984, more than 3,600 agreements regulating water issues in transboundary flows have been signed, largely outnumbering the cases of wars. According to some scholars, the only case of proper war sparked by water disputes dates back to 4,500 years ago, when two Mesopotamian city-states, Umma and Lagash, fought over border channels’ exploitation rights in the Tigris basin.53 In further analyses by Shlomi Dinar and Jacqueline Vaughn, who confer a broader meaning to the term “conflict”, the amount of water-related confrontations slightly increases, still remaining well below the number of agreements signed in the same period. Dinar reports that, since 1918, water has played a role in causing armed or non-armed skirmishes between States in seven cases, most of which in the Middle East, where water scarcity combined with a situation of political instability54. Vaughn counts thirty-seven cases of conflict in a shorter period, 1945-1999 - with the Middle East accounting for thirty-two of them - while 157 agreements were negotiated and signed55. A further study examining 1,831 water-related events,

51 Barbara Crossette, “Severe Water Crisis Ahead for Poorest Nations in Next 2 Decades”, New York Times (10 August 1995), available at https://www.nytimes.com/1995/08/10/world/severe-water-crisis-ahead-for-poorest-nations-in- next-2-decades.html. 52 Grover, “Introduction”, 6. 53 Shlomi DInar, “Water Wars? Conflict, Cooperation, and Negotiation over Transboundary Water”, in Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation?, ed. Velma I. Grover (Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007), 22. 54 Dinar, “Water Wars?”, 22. 55 Jacqueline Vaughn, Conflicts Over Natural Resources: A Reference Handbook (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, Inc., 2007), 98. 18 occurred in the second half of the twentieth and the beginning of the twenty-first century, found out that two thirds of them were of cooperative nature.56 However, stating that hydropolitcs has a history of cooperation is inaccurate. Albeit the provided data seem to suggest it, they still envisage a certain degree of subjectivity in defining cooperative and, mainly, conflict events. In the absence of a specific definition by international law, which defines international armed conflict only, a more comprehensive approach will be adopted in this thesis. Conflict does not entail war or armed clashes only. It encompasses a wide range of situations of instability and hostile behaviours that are not always taken into consideration by these researches. Indeed, it would be more appropriate to talk about “the spectrum of conflict”57, including different types and degrees of intra- and interstate tensions that could be defined as conflict events. In particular, four phenomena can be listed58: 1. Civil unrest and instability: people manifest dissatisfaction with institutions through a series of violent or non-violent acts, such as riots or sit-ins, ultimately leading to instability when local or national government is threatened; 2. Localised violence: civilians – like communities, ethnic groups, towns – fight over a certain resource; 3. Terrorism, insurgencies, and civil wars: violent confrontations among non-state actors struggling for the control of specific territories and populations; 4. State-on-State-conflict: this type of conflict can happen either in the form of conventional war or non-armed conflict. The former foresees the employment of large-scale military force in order to defeat the enemy; the latter is a form of interstate confrontation, that does not reach the threshold of conventional war and, in some cases, neither the threshold of violence, limiting to rhetorical escalations. Although water-based military actions among riparian States are not frequent in history, relations among countries sharing water basins are regularly affected by various types and degrees of disputes, mainly of a political nature59. Furthermore, the number of treaties and agreements over water issues gives an incomplete picture of the real degree of cooperation existing among riparian States. Actually, despite the high number of agreements signed over shared water resources, plenty of them lacks the necessary features to prevent conflict in the long term. For instance, only

56 Sandra L. Postel, and Aaron T. Wolf, “Dehydrating Conflict”, Foreign Policy (September-October 2001), 60. 57 CNA, The Role of Water Stress in Instability and Conflict, 19. 58 Ibid., 13. 59 Dinar, “Water Wars?”, 22. 19

13% of the basins shared by more than two States have a treaty signed by all riparians. 75% of the existing water treaties do not cover the total geographical area of the basin. A mere 9% of interstate treaties discipline all the water resources shared by the signing States.60 In 2016, the UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon underlined that only 84 out of 236 shared river basins were managed by a joint water-management body61. Having explained the strategic importance of water as a resource, and the causal mechanisms linking natural resources and conflict, it is important to figure out how could shared water resources be a source of conflict in detail. Conflict over water may be caused by several factors. In his analysis, Dinar has pointed out six main reasons that can provoke tension escalations among riparian States62: scarcity, mismanagement or misallocation of the resources among the parties; interdependence among the riparian States, as a consequence of the shared resource; the relative power of the States; the existence of a protracted conflict or hostility among the countries; the geographic or historic criteria for water distribution; and a confused and ambiguous regime for the allocation of property rights. The latter two will be dealt with simultaneously, since they are interrelated elements. 1. Scarcity, mismanagement or misallocation: as explained above, population growth and a consequent increased demand put pressure on water sources, reducing per capita availability of the resource and creating fiercer competition among States. As previously stated, water is an essential input for several strategic sectors of the economy, from industry, to energy production and agriculture. However, a further source of conflict among riparian States may be identified in the qualitative consequences of unilateral exploitation, which may result in pollution or environmental degradation of the shared flow. Nevertheless, real scarcity of a natural resource is not decisive in itself. What is relevant for interstate conflict is rather the perception one country has about the counterpart’s behaviour. Indeed, when one of the involved States perceives the shared resource to be overexploited or degraded by the other parties and deems it as a damage to itself, then a form of confrontation is more likely to happen.

60 Mark Giordano et al. “A review of the evolution and state of transboundary freshwater treaties.” International Environmental Agreements: Politics, Law, and Economics 13, no. 2(2013), 12. 61 United Nations, “Secretary-General, in Security Council, Stresses Promotion of Water-resource Management as Tool to Foster Cooperation, Prevent Conflict.” Meetings Coverage and Press Releases (Nov. 2016), available at http://www.un.org/press/en/2016/sc12598.doc.htm. 62Dinar, “Water Wars?”, 23-24. 20

2. Geography: it encompasses not only river’s morphology and hydrology, but also ecology and climatology, measured by a range of parameters that feature the river in fact: the amount and periodicity of precipitation, pollution, nutrients. Most of these parameters can be affected to different extents by human activity. Therefore, in a situation of countries sharing a river, the relative position of the riparian States along the water flow becomes an important factor to establish how they can impinge on their counterpart’s water, thus setting the stage for a potential conflict63. It is possible to distinguish up to fourteen configurations as regards the interaction between international rivers and borders. Two extreme types are relevant for understanding how much geography can influence conflict: the “through-border” river, when the river flows from one country into another, the “border-creator” one, when the river runs along the border between the countries64. In the next paragraphs, a more detailed examination of how such patterns do actually influence conflict potential among States will be carried out. 3. Relative power: according to several scholars, the power relation among the riparian States is a relevant factor in favouring conflict. However, the question about which situation can be deemed as the most likely to trigger a confrontation has received heterogeneous responses. As for the point 2, this item will be further analysed ahead. 4. Protracted conflict: when a broader conflict between two States exists alongside the water dispute, the latter can be heavily affected as a side effect of the principal struggle. More precisely, Miriam R. Lowi argues that “[S]tate that are antagonists in the “high politics” of war and diplomacy tend not to agree willingly to extensive collaboration in the sphere of “low politics”65, including water issues in the latter group. Moreover, often perceived as a matter of national security, water is at the centre of the domestic political debate, heavily affected by nationalistic and identity discourse66, as it has been the case for India-Nepal hydropolitics67. 5. Criteria and property right allocation regime: the allocation of the rights to utilise a certain shared water source falls under a poor and vague international legislation. One of the most

63 Arun P. Elhance, Hydropolitics in the 3rd World: Conflict and Cooperation in International River Basins, (Washington D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press,1999), 15-16. 64 Shlomi Dinar, International Water Treaties: Negotiation and Cooperation along Transboundary Rivers (Abingdon and New York: Routledge, 2007), 3. 65 Miriam R. Lowi, Water and power: The politics of a scarce resource in the Jordan River basin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), xxi. 66 Dinar, Water Wars?, 27. 67 Elhance, Hydropolitics in the 3rd World, 181-184. 21

promising efforts to provide a valid framework for the resolution of water disputes was offered in 1997 by the Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses, adopted by the UN General Assembly. The Convention tried to give a compromise solution to the traditional debate about which criteria should be used in allocating rights among riparian States. Article 5 of the document states that “Watercourse States shall in their respective territories utilize an international watercourse in an equitable and reasonable manner […] taking into account the interests of the watercourse States concerned” and that the participation in the use of the watercourse “includes both the right to utilize the watercourse and the duty to cooperate in the protection and development thereof”68. In that way, the article merges two principles: the principle of territorial sovereignty basically allowing each State to utilize the resources in its territory without any consideration of the effects of such use on the other countries; and the principle of territorial integrity, which confers to the States a right not to be harmed by another State. This latter concept is reinforced by article 7 of the same Convention69. Although the document has triggered an important development in the legislation over water-related right allocation between two or more States, it has taken more than fifteen years to produce effects, since it entered into force only on 17 August 201470. States have discussed at length about which articles and principles should be prevail over the others and many of them delayed its ratification. However, even after entering in force, the document has the purpose of providing a mere “umbrella agreement” that codifies customary law, without replacing the existing bilateral and multilateral treaties over specific disputes. Individual negotiation of property and utilisation rights over shared water resources remains the rule and it does not rely on any internationally recognised set of norms or principles71.

A further linkage to conflict: water and food security

Beyond the aforementioned causal mechanisms linking water resources and conflict, there is a further element to be considered. Water scarcity can be a source of instability also indirectly, as

68 UN General Assembly, Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses (General Assembly resolution 51/229, annex, Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-first Session, Supplement No. 49 (A/51/49), 21 May 1997), art. 5. 69 Dinar, Water Wars?, 28. 70 UN General Assembly, Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses. 71 Dinar, Water Wars?, 28-29. 22 one of the main causes for food insecurity. In that case, instability is not the output of actors competing over the control of a certain source of water. It is rather the effect of social and economic consequences triggered directly by the lack of food, as analysed below. Food security is defined as the situation that “exists when all people, at all times, have physical and economic access to sufficient, safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life”72. As previously affirmed, food production demands a large amount of the total water withdrawals worldwide. About 2,500 km3 is calculated as the annual amount of water required to fulfil daily average dietary needs of human population73. Due to increasing population, demand of food is expected to grow by 60% by 2050, with a heavy impact on irrigated food production, which will increase by 50%. However, this increase will require only 10% more water withdrawals due to technological improvements of the irrigation practices and higher yields. About 90% of the needed increase is foreseen to take place in developing countries, whose food production will account for 74% of global production, and which are currently providing more than 67% of it74. In general, the growth will affect countries that already focus their economy on agriculture and that withdraw the highest percentages of water for that sector, compared to the world average75. In addition, looking at the already mentioned map of water scarcity risks76, it appears clear that the most affected continents will be those already under high or extremely high risk. In particular, Africa and Asia – mostly Sub-Saharan Africa and Southern Asia– present a relevant number of countries defined at high risk as regards water scarcity, have average water withdrawals for agriculture of about 84% and 87% respectively of the total withdrawals77 and count 8 out of the 9 countries in which half of the population growth will concentrate by 205078. Basically, higher pressure will be put on regions already facing severe water stress. But what is the linkage between water and food security? Water is the essential input for irrigated agriculture, which in turn accounts for 40% of global food production79. It is also the main source

72 FAO, “Report of the World Food Summit”, WFS 96/REP Part 1, Rome, 13-17 November 1996. 73 FAO, “The use of water in agriculture”. 74 FAO, “Water for Sustainable Food and Agriculture”, a report produced for the G20 Presidency of Germany (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2017), 1. 75 FAO, Water at a Glance: the relationship between water, agriculture, food security and poverty (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization), 1. Available at http://www.fao.org/docrep/016/ap505e/ap505e.pdf. 76 World Resources Institute, Aqueduct, The Water Risk Atlas. 77 FAO, Water at a Glance, 1. 78 UNDESA, Population Division, World Population Prospects, 5. 79FAO, “Did you know…? Facts and figures about”, Aquastat, available at http://www.fao.org/nr/water/aquastat/didyouknow/index3.stm 23 of income in rural areas worldwide. Droughts dramatically affect harvests and are ranked as the foremost cause of food shortages in developing countries. Several studies and empirical observations acknowledge a correlation between increasing access to water and food security80. Moreover, in the context of river basins, water can have a role in reducing cultivable land: the construction of dams and reservoirs for energy production and storing reasons provoke the flooding of vast areas. This triggers the relocation of local dwellers and the destruction of potentially cultivable (or actually cultivated) land.81 The nexus between food security and conflict has been given growing attention in the last years, especially within the UN system. After numerous studies carried out by different UN agencies, among which FAO and World Food Programme (WFP), on 24 May 2018 the UN Security Council adopted a revolutionary resolution that acknowledged the link between conflict and food insecurity82. The focus of those studies has been on the vicious circle between conflict and food insecurity: while evidence-based confirmations exist about the impact that conflict events have on food insecurity, the reverse causal mechanism is less clear, as acknowledged by the UN agencies themselves83. However, food insecurity has been identified as a key determinant of the incidences of armed conflict, both in terms of likelihood and intensity, albeit never the only one84. Indeed, the main premise of such analyses is that the combination of food insecurity with other socio- economic grievances is the fundamental condition for its conflict potential. This paragraph focuses on three principal ways that food insecurity can trigger instability through. 1. Catalyst for civil unrest: undernourishment, as a direct threat to personal security, can exacerbate frustration and anger in situations of social discontent, thrusting people towards antisocial behaviour85. In other words, food insecurity would become “the channel through which other wider grievances […] are expressed”86.

80 FAO, Water at a Glance, 5. 81 FAO, “Water for Sustainable Food and Agriculture”, 10. 82 UN Security Council, Resolution 2417 (2018) (S/RES/2417 (2018), adopted at its 8267th meeting, 24 May 2018, available at https://undocs.org/S/RES/2417(2018)). 83 FAO, IFAD, UNICEF, WFP and WHO, The State of Food Security and Nutrition in the World 2017. Building resilience for peace and food security (Rome: FAO, 2017), 52. 84 WFP, At the Root of the Exodus: food insecurity, conflict and international migration (Rome: World Food Programme, 2017), 24. 85 FAO, IFAD, UNICEF, WFP and WHO, The State of Food Security and Nutrition in the World 2017, 53. 86 FAO, Peace and Food Security: Investing in resilience to sustain rural livelihoods amid conflict (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2016), 18. 24

2. Price rises: poor harvests and a reduced food availability on the marketplace can make the prices increase and real incomes plummet. This kind of linkage was particularly evident during the 2008 global rise in food prices, which coincided with civil unrest in more than 40 countries87. 3. Incentive to fight: reduction in agricultural production, unemployment, dispossession and lack of access to resources like land and water heavily affect farmers’ incomes. This can push them to: migrate towards cities or more climatically favourable regions, thus setting the stage for potential tension with the local populations88; compete over scarce natural resources; join local militias and violent activities as the alternative source of income, like observed in Somalia89. One of the most emblematic cases that highlight the link between conflict, food insecurity and water is the wave of uprisings in the Arab countries in 2011. Few months before revolutions blew up, severe droughts in Ukraine, Russia and China triggered a widespread increase in wheat prices, which in turn hit Arab countries heavily dependent on imports90. The high prices of basic products like bread led to the initial demonstrations against government in Tunisia, where de facto the Arab Spring domino began91.

1.1.4. River disputes

Water-related disputes have been analysed by far. However, since this thesis aims to examine the conflict potential of water resources in the borderlands of the Ferghana Valley, focus has to be shifted onto rivers. Actually, the main challenges for water management in that region concern the Syr Darya basin, namely a complex transboundary system made up of a major river and its tributaries, canals and reservoirs. According to the theoretical analysis presented below, its features set the perfect conditions for interstate disputes over water. As previously stated, the geographical setting of a watercourse as related to international borders is an important factor in establishing whether such flow could represent a threat for regional stability. Two settings are relevant for this thesis.

87 Ibid., 18. 88 WFP, At the Root of the Exodus, 24. 89 FAO, Peace and Food Security, 19. 90 CNA, The Role of Water Stress in Instability and Conflict, 24. 91 FAO, Peace and Food Security, 18. 25

There are rivers running along the border, like in the case of Congo, which draws a long sector of the frontier between the Democratic Republic of Congo and the Republic of Congo; the “border- river” type engenders a so-called “river boundary” relationship between the two States. A second type of rivers flow from one country into another, crossing the border in one point; it is the case of Nile, flowing from Sudan into Egypt. This “through-border” rivers create an “upstream/downstream” relationship92. Shared rivers can represent a source of conflict for different reasons93. 1. Water shortages: it is the most common mechanism through which rivers cause interstate strives. They encompass both quantity and quality problems. As for quantity, tensions may arise if one of the riparian states diverts water for its own benefit (e.g. hydropower or irrigation) at the counterpart’s expense. Obviously, this type of conflict is more likely to occur in upstream/downstream relations rather than river boundary ones: in the latter case, the fear of retaliation by the opposite bank dissuades both countries from any hazard. Quality issues pertain mainly to water pollution. It is an issue for both river boundary and upstream/downstream settings; however, in the latter case it can be more likely used by the upstream country as a hostile act, since the harm is unidirectional, and the downstream country cannot retaliate. 2. Navigational issues: the use of rivers for navigational purposes is of strategic importance, especially when they represent trade routes. Disputes over the navigational rights of the riparian States have been for long the main cause of disputes over rivers and they can occur both in river boundary and upstream/downstream relationships. 3. International borders: rivers can be used as natural boundaries; usually, the legal boundary corresponds to the deepest part of the watercourse, named “Thalweg”. However, given their changeable nature due to erosive phenomena, riverbeds often modify their trajectories. Difficulties in establishing precise borders or agreeing on the border-drawing principle (which part of the river has to be considered as the proper boundary) have also contributed to causing armed conflicts, like in the Ussuri river crisis of 1969 between China and USSR. This kind of disputes can only happen in river boundary relationships. As a result of a multivariate analysis, upstream/downstream relationships appear to be the most prone to conflict among the geographical configurations presented above94. Since it is the

92 Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 48. 93 Ibid., 45-48. 26 predominant type of setting featuring interstate relations in the Ferghana valley, with upstream Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan and downstream Uzbekistan, the following paragraph better examines its characteristics.

Upstream/Downstream relationships

It has been already mentioned that one issue of international water resources is the allocation criterion. This problem is particularly acute in upstream/downstream river settings. Indeed, in this case, each riparian State will support the adoption of the allocation principle that would better second its own interests, induced by its geographical position along the watercourse. The core issue of the entire question is equity. However, it is a vague and ambiguous term that needs to be put into practice through more concrete criteria. To date, three criteria have received the widest attention by the international community: reasonable and equitable use, hydrography and chronology95. After a debate of nearly thirty years, in 1997 the resolution known as the “Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses” was finally adopted by the UN General Assembly96. As presented above, the Convention was a milestone for the subject as it codified and synthesised the principles of territorial sovereignty and territorial integrity into the “reasonable and equitable use”. It allows the utilisation of a certain watercourse as far as it is optimal and benefits are maximised (art. 5); however, an obligation not to cause significant harm to the counterpart is posed as a counterbalance (art. 7). Nonetheless, the wording remained vague and the Convention has not provided the clear and universal guidelines to water dispute resolution that it aimed at. The criterion based on hydrography foresees that “the country from where a river or aquifer originates and how much of that territory falls within a certain state determines how much water is available to the country”97. The principle of absolute sovereignty informs this criterion, stating that a country has absolute rights to hydric resources within its territory, including parts of rivers flowing through it, as upheld by the United States attorney general in 189598. Such an extreme

94 Ibid., 57. 95 Aaron T. Wolf, “Criteria for equitable allocations: the heart of international water conflict”, Natural Resources Forum 23, no. 1 (1999), 4-6. 96 UN General Assembly, Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses. 97 Grover, “Introduction”, 12. 98 Wolf, “Criteria for equitable allocations”, 6. 27 position has been usually supported by upstream countries, as allowing the exploitation of the resource with no consideration of the impacts on the downstream ones. On the contrary, downstream countries have tended to claim the adoption of either the “absolute riverain integrity” or the chronological criterion. The former, based on the more general principle of territorial integrity, states that a State has a right to the waters that would naturally flow through its territory (strongly limiting, in fact, the upstream country’s exploitation rights). The latter, more commonly supported by countries in arid regions, stresses on the “seniority of use” of the resource. Indeed, in several cases downstream States have developed earlier than upstream ones and have exploited the watercourse for a longer time. That is the case of downstream Iraq and Egypt vis-à-vis upstream Turkey and Ethiopia. The overarching principle is that of “first in time, first in right”99. The heterogeneity of allocation criteria that characterises especially upstream/downstream relationships is one of the most challenging factors that render such river configuration potentially unstable. However, there are further elements that can augment the conflict potential among upstream/downstream riparian States, like the already mentioned relative power or the perceived hostility of the counterparts’ acts. Scholars have investigated how the interaction of those factors can impact on the degree of instability of the dyad100. Some sets of conditions have been identified as more threatening for regional stability than others. In her analysis, Lowi considers two factors: relative power and hegemon’s need of the resource. She upholds that a downstream country in critical need of water is naturally prone to cooperate, but that cooperation ultimately depends on the will of the most powerful between the riparian States. Therefore, if the hegemonic actor is also in a geographical position of superiority, namely upstream, it has no incentive to cooperate and a conflict is more likely to happen101. Homer-Dixon draws the opposite conclusions in his reasoning. He asserts that the most potentially dangerous situation is set by the coexistence of three conditions: a) the downstream country perceives that the upstream one is overexploiting the hydric resource or using it as a leverage; b) the downstream country considers its own military power higher than its counterpart (deems itself as the hegemon);

99 Ibid., 6. 100 “Dyad” is used to refer to a couple of riparian State as in Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”. 101 Lowi, Water and Power, 10. 28

c) the downstream country is in critical need of the resource102. Thomas Naff and Frederick Frey developed a model, named “power matrix model”, analysing barely the same variables as Homer-Dixon: geographical position, projectable power or brute ability to impose its will on its counterparts, and need for the resource103. The two scholars applied their model to the Jordan, Euphrates and Nile basins and found that the situation presenting the highest potential for conflict is when the downstream country is the most powerful one, is highly dependent on the watercourse and perceives the hydric resource to be deliberately overexploited by the upstream country.

The literature review allowed the identification of the theoretical tools to understanding the potential of a certain dyad to enter a situation of conflict or instability. According to the main findings, it is possible to list a range of conditions that would more likely set the stage for conflict. Water scarcity, as a threat to fundamental economic sectors like agriculture, energy and industry, is perhaps the most relevant factor in drawing States’ attention onto securing water resources. As seen above, it is exacerbated by several factors, among which demographic growth, climate change and virtual water trade will be of particular importance for the case of the Ferghana valley. However, the case studies chosen for this thesis will not deal with proper interstate war. As analysed, conflict encompasses different types of confrontations, ranging from civil unrest and localised violence up to conventional war. Local clashes, instability and political disputes are the kinds of water-based conflict most frequently observed in Central Asia. Finally, upstream/downstream dyads appear to be the most instable. More specifically, those in which downstream country is highly dependent on water resources, is militarily more powerful than upstream country and deems that the latter is hampering somehow downstream availability of water are particularly prone to conflict. Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan-Tajikistan dyads present such characteristics. The description of geographical, hydrographical and agricultural landscape of the region will help to understand the conflict potential of the area.

102 Homer-Dixon, “Environmental Scarcities and Violent Conflict”, 19. 103 Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 26. 29

1.2. The Ferghana Valley 1.2.1. Geography, hydrography, demography and agriculture

The Ferghana valley is a large flatland situated in the middle of Central Asia, in the borderlands among Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. It extends for approximately 300 km from East to West and an average of 100 km from North to South, with a peak of 170 km in its widest part. The bulk of the valley (about 60%) lies in Uzbekistani territory, while the remainder is divided between Tajikistan in the south-western part (about 25%) and Kyrgyzstan in the East (about 15%)104. The altitude of the area is between 300 and 500 m, although on the edges it presents higher terraces, still deemed part of the valley, barely reaching 1000 m of altitude. The region is embedded by five mountain ranges, which enclose it almost completely: the Turkestan and Alai Mountains to the South, the Ferghana Mountains to the North-East, and the and Kuramin Mountains to the North and West105. According to Köppen climate classification, the zone has a cold semi-arid climate106, with annual rainfall varying from 109 mm in the West to 226 mm in the Southeast107. However, the ancient set up of an efficient and widespread irrigation system made it a fertile region, with an early development of the agricultural sector, thus allowing the rapid expansion of highly water-demanding crops like cotton. The foundation of a massive use of irrigation is the presence of an important river basin crossing the entire valley: the Syr Darya basin. The Syr Darya is one of the two major rivers flowing into the and forming, together with the , the so-called Aral Sea Basin. The Syr Darya is formed by the confluence of two major watercourses, and , both originating in Kyrgyzstan. The former is fed by glaciers of central and runs westward for 534 km. Several reservoirs and hydroelectric stations are situated along its course; the biggest one is the Toktogul Reservoir, which has a gross storage of 19.4 km3 and is the principal flow-controlling infrastructure of the river108. The Naryn crosses the Kyrgyzstan-Uzbekistan border near the town of Naryn, after running along the boundary for few kilometres. The Kara Darya is formed by two rivers, the river and the Kara-Kulja river. It has a length of 177 km from the confluence of the

104 Anchita Borthakur, “AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONFLICT IN THE FERGHANA VALLEY”, Asian Affairs 48, no. 2 (2017), 335. 105 Philippe Rekacewicz, Emmanuelle Bournay, “Topography and hydrography of the Ferghana Valley”, Topographic maps (UNEP/GRID-Arenda, 2005), available at https://www.grida.no/resources/5371. 106 Murray C.Peel, Brian L. Finlayson, T. A. McMahon, "Updated world map of the Köppen–Geiger climate classification", Hydrol. Earth Syst. Sci. 11 (2008), 1639. 107 Christine Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia: Irrigation disputes in the Ferghana Valley (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009), 16. 108 Kai Wegerich, “Water resource in Central Asia: regional stability or patchy make-up?”, Central Asia Survey 30, no. 2 (2011), 280. 30 aforementioned courses to the point in which it merges with the Naryn, forming the Syr Darya. The most important infrastructure on its flow is the Andijan Dam, which creates the Andijan Reservoir; it is situated on the Kyrgyzstan-Uzbekistan frontier, where the river flows for the first time into Uzbekistan, few kilometres West of the Kyrgyz city of . Subsequently, the Kara Darya crosses the boundary between the two countries at least five more times before turning westward into Uzbekistani territory109. The Kara Darya merges with the Naryn few kilometres South-East of the Uzbek city of , where the watercourse starts to be named as Syr Darya. It is 2,212 km long, draining a basin of 462,000 km2,110 and, despite being the longest river of Central Asia, its total annual flow is 37 km3 per year, far less than the glacier-fed Amu Darya; about 53% of it is from the Naryn, 15% from Kara Darya and 32% from side tributaries111. The river flows across the Ferghana Valley until the Uzbekistan-Tajikistan border, North of Kokand, which it runs along for several kilometres before entering Tajikistan. In Tajikistan it flows into one of the biggest reservoirs of its course: the Kairakkum Reservoir. The Syr Darya proceeds towards the way out of the Ferghana Valley, marked by the Tajikistan-Uzbekistan frontier to the East. Its most eastern area corresponds to the region surrounding the Tajik city of Khujand112. Beyond those major watercourses, the Ferghana Valley is crossed by several other rivers, most of which are transboundary rivers. Indeed, Tian Shan (including its western ranges of Ferghana, Chatkal and Kuramin ranges) is the main source of the Central Asian water flows and it is mostly located in Kyrgyzstan. Apart from Naryn and Kara Darya, and not taking into account their own tributaries, there are more than thirty small transboundary streams flowing through the valley into the Syr Darya. Their contribution to the main river amounts to 7.8 km3 of water per year. An emblematic case of transboundary tributary is the Isfara: originating in Kyrgyzstan, it passes through the Tajik enclave of Vorukh before re-entering Kyrgyzstan. After being partially diverted at the boundary, the Isfara flows into Tajikistan and is split into two courses: one flowing towards Syr

109 Rekacewicz, Bournay, “Topography and hydrography of the Ferghana Valley”. 110 The Editors of the Enciclopaedia Britannica, “Syr Darya”, Enciclopaedia Britannica (27 August 2013), available at https://www.britannica.com/place/Syr-Darya. 111 E. Barton Worthington, Arid Land Irrigation in Developing Countries: Environmental Problems and Effects (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1977), 267. 112 Rekacewicz, Bournay, “Topography and hydrography of the Ferghana Valley”. 31

Darya near the Tajik city of Kanibadam, the other passing through Uzbek territory. This last sector of the river eventually feeds the Great Ferghana Canal113. The hydrographical setting of the valley cannot ignore the irrigational apparatus. Almost the whole area is covered by a network of canals. Among the most relevant in terms of size and runoff, the Great Ferghana Canal and the Great Andijan Canal flow southward (the former reaching Tajik part of the valley), while the North Ferghana Canal and the Great Namangan Canal run northward114. The entire system employs several pump stations, dams and reservoirs to managing flows and diverting water into the smaller canals. The Ferghana Valley is the most densely populated area of Central Asia. In spite of the presence of numerous urban centres (Osh, Andijan, Ferghana, , Namangan, Kokand and count all more than 200,000 inhabitants), 70% of the valley’s population lives in rural areas115. The valley has a population of nearly fourteen million116, accounting for more than one fifth of the total population of formerly Soviet Central Asia. The population density of the entire area is 360 persons per km2, but in some places it reaches 550, far higher data compared to the average of Central Asia as a whole. Its demographic contribution is remarkable for each of the States it is split among, too. In fact, residents of the valley represent about one third of the Tajikistani and Kyrgyzstani population, while nearly one quarter of Uzbekistani one117. As for the ethnic composition of its population, the region is very diverse. The overwhelming majority is represented by Uzbek (the most numerous), Kyrgyz and Tajik groups. However, although they partially resettled in their own nations after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the ethnic heterogeneity of the valley has never disappeared. Beside the multicultural urban centres, there are several ethnic enclaves and exclaves in the borderlands of each country, some of which are politically recognised. Among the most relevant in terms of size, the Tajik Vorukh and the Uzbek Sokh are the largest ones, both lying in Kyrgyz territory. As regards the other ethnic groups, the most significant minorities are Russians, Slavs, Armenians, Crimean Tatars and Meskhetian Turks118.

113 Mariya Pak, Kai Wegerich, and Jusipbek Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia: a case study from the Isfara River, Ferghana Valley”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 30, no. 2 (2014), 232-234. 114 Kai Wegerich, “Water resource in Central Asia: regional stability or patchy make-up?”, 277. 115 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 16. 116 Stratfor, “Central Asia: The Complexities of the Ferghana Valley”, Worldview (October 2013), available at https://worldview.stratfor.com/article/central-asia-complexities-fergana-valley. 117 Borthakur, “AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONFLICT IN THE FERGHANA VALLEY”, 335-336. 118 Ibid., 336. 32

Agriculture is an important sector for each of the States sharing the valley and for the local economy as well. It is predominant in Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, where it accounts for 38% and 33% of the GDP respectively, while for 19% in Tajikistan. In particular, Uzbekistan receives the highest incomes from agriculture. It accounts for 42% of the exportations and most of the industry is based on the processing of agricultural products. 40% of the gross value of agriculture in Uzbekistan comes from cotton production and a great part of the production is located in the Ferghana Valley. Differently, Kyrgyzstan addresses only 5% of its agricultural production to cash crops like cotton, still concentrating them in its part of the valley119. Cotton has traditionally been the dominant crop of the area. However, in the last decades all the Central Asian countries have tried to diversify their agricultural production, in order to both enhance food self-sufficiency and reduce water consumption. Indeed, cotton is among the most water-consuming crops, with an average water need between 700 and 1,300 mm for the total growing period120. Cotton’s share of irrigated area in Central Asia dropped from 45% to 25% during the 1990s, while wheat became the most diffuse crop, gaining 28% of the irrigated lands. As for water consumption, wheat accounts for 39% of total water use, while cotton for 33%121. Still, given the aforementioned importance of cotton for Uzbekistani economy (it is the fifth world’s largest exporter of cotton), which owns most of the valley, and the long local tradition, infrastructures and expertise related to cotton crop, it remains the main cultivation of the Ferghana Valley. As for Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, the importance of the valley for their economy is not linked to agriculture. Beyond their shares of cotton production and the demographic relevance of the areas located in the valley, those countries do not receive huge incomes from agriculture. Instead, their most valuable resource is hydrography. As stated above, most of the rivers and streams of the valley originate in the surrounding mountains, mostly comprised in Kyrgyzstani territory. Thus, hydropower is an important tool for those poor countries to reach energy self-sufficiency and gain income from selling that energy (or water itself) to other countries. In Kyrgyzstan, hydroelectric power accounts for more than 90% of energy consumption122, while in Tajikistan it represents more than 95% of country’s energy production123. Among the major facilities contributing to

119 Timothy L. Gall, Worldmark Encyclopedia of the Nations, Vol. 4 “Asia & Oceania” (Farmington Hills: Thomson Gale, 2004), 367, 665, 753-754. 120C. Brouwer and M. Heibloem, “Crop water needs”, in Irrigation Water Management: Irrigation Water Needs, (Rome: FAO, 1986), available at http://www.fao.org/docrep/s2022e/s2022e02.htm#TopOfPage. 121 Maite Martinez-Aldaya, G. Munoz, and Arjen Y. Hoekstra, “Water footprint of cotton, wheat and rice production in Central Asia”, Value of water research report no. 41 (Delft: UNESCO-IHE Institute for Water Education, 2010), 13-15. 122 Wegerich, “Water resource in Central Asia: regional stability or patchy make-up?”, 283. 123 Gall, Worldmark Encyclopedia of the Nations, Vol. 4 “Asia & Oceania”, 666. 33 energy production, there are the Kairakkum Reservoir upon the Syr Darya in Tajikistan and the Toktogul Reservoir upon the Naryn in Kyrgyzstan, together with numerous upstream and downstream dams. By affecting the watercourse of crucial rivers for the region, they can be considered part of the valley’s system.

1.2.2. Borders

This thesis aims to investigate the role of water in interstate territorial disputes in the Ferghana Valley, where several of the aforementioned conditions for water-based instability co-exist. The bulk of the matter concerns Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan boundary, which is the longest and most contested one, encircling the valley on three sides: North, East and South. Further disputes regard Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, while Uzbekistan-Tajikistan’s main border confrontations fall outside the valley, on their frontier in the Amu Darya basin. Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan share a border of 1,387 km, most of which follow the edges of the Ferghana Valley124. To date, nearly 200 km, including several of the “hottest” areas, have not been clearly delimited yet125. The most disputed sectors across history (mainly post-Soviet history) have been the northern and north-eastern one, roughly corresponding to the Kyrgyz Jalalabad region’s border, and the southern one, bordering the Kyrgyz region of . The former sector has seen the most problematic issues in the districts of Aksyi and Ala-Buka, mainly in the area surrounding the Kasansai Reservoir and Ungar-Tepa or Unkur-Too mountain. In the Southern region, the situation is even more complicated, since numerous enclaves are situated there. In particular, Sokh, Shakhimardan, Chon Qora/Qalacha and Jani-Ayil are the Uzbek enclaves that are at stake in territorial disputes. Sokh, the biggest one (238 km2), and Chon Qora/Qalacha, are located along the Sokh river, a crucial one for irrigation purposes of the southern Ferghana Valley. Shakhimardan and Jani-Ayil falls within the basin of the Shakhimardan river, another relevant watercourse of the region. Along the eastern border, remarkable disputes regard the region of Osh, namely the area surrounding the city of Osh (in particular the de facto Kyrgyz exclave of Barak) and the Andijan Reservoir, which is located exactly on the frontier126.

124 Emmanuel Brunet-Jailly, Border Disputes: A Global Encyclopedia (Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2015), 336. 125 Pete Baumgartner, “Tug-Of-War: Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan Look To Finally Settle Decades-Old Border Dispute”, RadioFreeEurope RadioLiberty (December 2017), available at https://www.rferl.org/a/uzbekistan-kyrgyzstan- resolving-decades-old-border-dispute/28918059.html. 126Ferghana News Agency, “Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan preferred to resolve border issue secretly”, Ferghana.news (September 2017), available at http://enews.fergananews.com/articles/3035. 34

As for the Tajikistan-Kyrgyzstan boundaries, the most relevant issue concerns the Tajik enclave of Vorukh (97 km2) and different villages, reservoirs and canals along the Isfara river, in the . In particular, the demarcation of the boundary in the area of the Tortgul Reservoir is contested127. Such information has the purpose of providing the fundamental elements for a comfortable reading of the historical chapters below. The aforementioned places, rivers and cities will be further described when treated specifically in the next chapters.

Conclusion

The theoretical analysis carried out over the role of water as a source of conflict highlighted two fundamental elements for the purpose of this thesis. Water security is not necessarily depending on the quantity of water available in the territory at stake, but it is related to the actual access to and usage of the resource. Therefore, quality, distribution and any other hurdle to its consumption matters more than the absolute amount of water of a certain region. As it will be shown below, none of the countries involved in the present study, namely Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, even approaches Falkenmark’s threshold of water scarcity. Rather, Uzbekistan, which, as described in chapter 4, is the most damaged by the water issue among the Ferghana’s neighbouring States, has an almost double per capita amount of water compared to Spain, which is among the major agricultural producers in Europe128. Instead, the issue of uneven allocation is crucial, both from a management and a geographic perspective. Water allotment criteria and the position of the States involved in relation to the resource represent decisive elements in triggering conflicts over water. Therefore, the most conflict-prone configuration among interstate water relations is the upstream-downstream in the basin of a river. Indeed, in this pattern, the relative dynamics of resource control and dependence are amplified, and can result in a dangerous tug-of- war, especially if the downstream country has the necessary tools to counterbalance its geographical weakness. In such a case, neither party would accept to succumb to its counterpart, and would instead use its tools of power to maximise its own interests. The characteristics of the valley, as described above, present exactly this configuration on a vast scale. The radial distribution of its streams replicate the conflict-potential pattern across its entire

127 Pak, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia”, 234. 128 Zakhirova, Leila. “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, Europe-Asia Studies 65, no. 10 (2013), 1998.

35 border. However, the geographical features do not fully explain why the Ferghana Valley’s case perfectly fits the theoretical findings on conflict-prone scenario. A complex and long turn of events throughout the history have contributed to render the natural morphology of the valley a heavy burden on interstate relations. The thesis is now turning towards the proper historical analysis. Through the next sections, it will investigate the historical roots of the regional features analysed above, which allegedly render the valley prone to interstate tensions. Agriculture, border setting, water allocation, are all elements which will be examined from an historical perspective. Such perspective will help to understand why they have developed intrinsic threats to a peaceful and smooth management of the valley. The focus will be on the weaknesses of the regional system as regarding water-related elements and its impact on interstate relations and border disputes.

36

2. The Revolution of the Valley: Rise and Development of Cotton and Irrigation From Russian Empire to the Second World War (1868-1945)

This chapter will deal with the origins of the irrigation and agricultural system that has led to the present environmental and security challenges of water management in Central Asia. Indeed, albeit the ancient roots of the local irrigational practices, the Russian colonisation could be considered as the beginning of the colossal infrastructural projects that would change the landscape of the region. However, the physical transformation was not the only, neither the principal, disruptive element brought by the Russian settlers. Actually, alongside the infrastructural interventions, the Russian Empire was also responsible for initiating the process of reforms that prompted the legal and socio-economic revolution of local civilisations. Water- related legislation, namely rules regulating water rights, land tenure and agriculture, and irrigation, has been a fundamental tool used by Russian colonialists and Soviet rulers for fostering such revolution. This and the following historical chapters will analyse how different rulers progressively transformed local economy, the underlying motives for such transformation and its concrete impacts on cropping, irrigation and water allocation patterns.

2.1. The Russian Rule: 1868 – 1917 2.1.1. Motivations and Chronology of the Expansion

The Ferghana Valley was one of the first settled region of Central Asia. Its natural isolation and its relatively favourable climatic and hydrological features rendered it suitable for early human settlements. The first signs of an agrarian culture, known as Chust, date back to 15th-16th century BCE, during the Bronze Age. They already practiced primitive forms of irrigation on several northern and eastern streams of the valley, such as the Gavasay, the Ak-Bura, the Kasansai and

37 the Kara Darya129. At least another people inhabited the valley since the same period, albeit a pastoral one: the Kairakkum. Nomadic and sedentary civilisations, based either on agriculture or cattle breeding, have coexisted in this isolated and relatively narrow region for centuries. Their common history and mutual enrichment defined a shared identity, which led the valley to be considered as a whole130. Agriculture in the valley has always relied upon both rainfed and irrigated crops. However, the latter acquired growing centrality with the technological improvement of the irrigation systems. Before the expansion of the Russian Empire into Turkestan, in the whole region, rainfed cultivations were mainly located on the foothills, where rainfalls are more abundant compared to the lowlands. The principal crops were wheat, barley and millet. Despite providing an adequate amount of grains for the local population, this type of agriculture was supplementary to the irrigated cultivations, which represented the bulk of food and fibre production. Among the irrigated areas, the Ferghana Valley was of particular relevance for its riverine resources, agricultural production and population density. The leading irrigated crop was wheat, while other grain crops for human consumption were sorghum and barley. Fodder, and in particular alfalfa, was largely cultivated131. Cotton was already grown, but the local variety presented shorter fibres, lower productivity and was produced mainly to be sold locally. Cultivating and harvesting a single desyatina (some 1.09 hectares132) of local cotton required 120 workdays of adult labour, 30 of child labour and 25 of animal labour. Each desyatina provided an average yield of 60-80 puds (1 pud = 16.33 kg) of bolls, which in turn demanded up to two days of man labour to extract a pud of raw cotton and to obtain 3.5-4 kg of fibre133. Therefore, two to three months were necessary to harvesting cotton from each desyatina. Such inefficiency rendered Turkestan cotton’s cost high and discouraged international trade of the product. In 1850, the Russian Empire imported only 52,000 puds of cotton, 5% of the total cotton imported that year. A further factor heavily impacting on Central

129 Abdukhakhor Saldov, Abdulkhamid Anarbev, and Valentina Gorlyacheva, “The Ferghana Valley: The Pre- Colonial Legacy”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. Frederick S. Starr (Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 4. 130 Saldov, Anarbev, Gorlyacheva, “The Ferghana Valley: The Pre-Colonial Legacy”, 3. 131 Ian M. Matley, “The Golodnaya Steppe: A Russian Irrigation Venture In Central Asia”, Geographical Review 60, no. 3 (1970), p. 328-329. 132 V. Fourniau and C. Poujol, “The States of Central Asia (second half of nineteenth century to early twentieth century)”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, ed. Chahryar Adle (Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005), 41. 133 John Whitman, “Turkestan Cotton in Imperial Russia”, The American Slavic and East European Review 15, no. 2 (1956), 191-192. 38

Asian cotton’s cost and quality was transportation. With no railway connecting the region to the heartlands of Russia, the caravans’ trip to Orenburg (the railhead) lasted up to six months, and, together with the high number of camels required, this raised the costs by 12-16% compared to the price. The poor conditions of the journey deeply damaged the cargo, causing an average loss of 35%134. For these reasons, it is unlikely that the ambitions of cotton self-sufficiency represented a foreground motive for the Russian campaign in Central Asia. The quality of the strain and the high cost would have made it impossible for the Russian textile industry to rely exclusively upon Turkestan’s supply. The idea of a cotton-induced conquest of the region has probably arisen as a misinterpretation of the analysis made by N. A. Khalfin, like in “The Central Asian Cotton Epic” by Igor Lipovsky135. Khalfin suggested instead that Russian conquest was driven by economic interests, but not in a cotton supplier. Rather, Central Asia should serve as a market for domestic goods, with the ultimate aim of cutting off British business in the region136. At least, mineral resources were expected to be found there. In fact, the substantial factor pushing for the invasion was of military nature. The strategic role the region played in the Great Game against British competing ambitions in Asia and the need to regain prestige after the treaty of Paris in 1856, which ended the Crimean War, represented two strong incentives137. A classical imperial narrative of a civilising mission arose. However, geopolitical and epical motives were of limited appeal for the Russian public and a convincing prove of the benefits the new colony could bring to the Empire should be provided. Indeed, the costs of Turkestan colonisation nearly doubled its revenues for the first three decades138. Thus, the economic potential of cotton production in the climatically favourable regions of southern Central Asia became increasingly central in Russian strategy, which had to find the way to make it economically convenient. The first Russian victories against the Kokand khanate date back to 1853, but the major offensive took place in the early 1860s by General Chernyayev. After gaining large territories of the khanate, in 1865 Russia conquered Tashkent and renamed the annexed territories as Turkestan. The Kokand khanate was relegated to the Ferghana Valley. In 1867 the governor-generalship of Turkestan was established and General Konstantin P. von Kaufman was appointed governor-

134 Ibid. 135 Igor Lipovsky, “The Central Asian Cotton Epic”, Central Asian Survey 14, no. 4 (1995), 529. 136 Julia Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams: Cotton Growing Irrigation in Central Asia 1860-1991 (Göttingen: V&R unipress GmbH, 2017), 51-52. 137 Fourniau and Poujol, “The States of Central Asia”, 39. 138 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 53-55. 39 general. Weakened and surrounded, in 1868 Kokand had to accept harsh conditions in terms of trade and taxes. The high privileges conceded to the Russians – free access to the khanate’s cities for their merchants and right to establish representatives, equalisation of taxes between Russian and Muslim merchants, free passage for their caravans – made Kokand a de facto vassal State of the Empire. However, the conquest of this last stronghold happened in 1876. In order to pay war indemnities to Russia and cover the costing privileges conceded to its merchants, Khudayar Khan, ruler of the khanate, imposed heavy taxes on local cattle-breeders and farmers. In an already shrunk economy, this led to widespread revolts in 1873, which raged uncontrolled until 1876. Kyrgyz nomads stood out as the military core of the rebellion. Russians, who feared to lose control over the valley, sent their troops and crushed the rebels in February 1876139. General Michail D. Skobelev, who led the punitive expedition, was appointed governor-general of the newly established Ferghana oblast (region), which was part of Turkestan. The garrison town named after himself (present-day Ferghana) became the regional capital140.

The primary objective for Russian officers was to consolidate its power in a physically and culturally distant colony like Turkestan was. They tried to pursue it through a threefold strategy: a centralised government, the empowerment of Russian population in the region and self- legitimization among local Muslims. 1) Turkestan’s administrative and territorial divisions were defined by the central authorities in Saint Petersburg, in total disregard of ethnic, cultural, geographical and economic features of the region. The Chancellery of the governor-general based in Tashkent had barely full powers over political, administrative and military issues and was directly dependent on the Ministry of War. Provinces were headed by military governors, which had wide powers over appointment of local authorities as well as police ad judicial matters. In the Ferghana Valley, the most important governmental body was the Ferghana province administration. It was a collegial institution chaired by a military governor’s assistant. The body’s functions covered administrative, economic, law enforcement and judicial aspects. Among them, water resources management and dispute settlement were particularly relevant for the socio-economic features of the region. The administration divided the Ferghana oblast into districts and villages. These divisions consciously ignored pre-existing

139 Ravshan Abdullaev, Namoz Khotamov, Tashmanbet Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860- 1917”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. Frederick S. Starr (Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 69-71. 140 Fourniau and Poujol, “The States of Central Asia”, 46. 40

clan-based units, in order to weaken the powerful Kyrgyz elites. Furthermore, Russians dismissed the traditional authority of the clan chiefs and introduced elected elders, confirmed by the governor-general for a three-year term and removable at will by the provincial military governor. An intermediate district assembly, which was called to elect the district chief, was instead in charge of overseeing infrastructural issues such as construction and maintenance of roads, bridges and irrigation systems141. 2) Russian settlements in the region were encouraged since the early years of the occupation. Several garrison towns were founded (among them, Skobelev and Pishpek became important centres) and Russian immigration was fostered through high privileges and abuses upon the local population. Tsarist land policy contributed to this plan of colonisation. With the agrarian reform of 1871-1873, it became easy for Russian authorities to expropriate lands belonging to local farmers. Lands could be nationalised for public interests like construction of irrigation canals or, significantly, colonisation. Actually, expropriated lands were often offered (or sold cheaply) to tsarist officers and Russian settlers. Although massive expropriations were limited by a decree in 1886, as explained below, Russians were granted legal privileges that facilitated the appropriation. For instance, in many cases, Kyrgyz shepherds saw their lands grabbed by Russians, after coming back from their annual springtime trip to mountain grazing. It was sufficient for the settlers to build houses on the new lands and then petitioning the complicit authorities to ratify their ownership. Although the Russian immigration did not reach large numbers (by 1910, European population accounted for a mere 2% of the total Turkestan inhabitants), settlers were put in a position of economic and social advantage vis-à-vis local population. While empowering Russians, colonial abuses weakened native people, especially nomadic Kyrgyz who had been traditionally the dominant ethnic group in the region142. 3) At the same time, the colonialists knew that legitimization among the locals was vital for the colony to survive. One of the staunch supporters of this idea was Alexander Krivoshein, director of the Glavnoe Upravlenie Zemleustroistva I Zemledeliia (GUZZ), the Chief Administration of Land Management and Agriculture143. In particular, as regarding

141 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 72-73. 142 Ibid., 79-80. 143 Peter Holquist, “In Accord with State Interests and the People’s Wishes: The Technocratic Ideology of Imperial Russia’s Resettlement Administration”, Slavic Review 69, no. 1 (2010), 152-153. 41

irrigation, he upheld that setting up an effective irrigation system would not only support political and economic purposes of the Empire, but it would help Russians to gain prestige among local populace, as part of the “imperial mission” in Central Asia144. However, beyond the initial efforts to strengthen its power on the colony, in the 1870s the Russian Empire began to develop a strategy for reaching cotton self-sufficiency through Turkestan cultivations. It would be a decision that will influence the development of the region under the Soviet rule too and that is, to a large extent, the foundation of present-day water-related challenges in the valley.

2.1.2. Rise and Development of Cotton Cropping

As explained above, before 1860s, Turkestan traditional cotton variety had never been attractive for Russian textile industry as too costly and of low quality compared to the American botanical varieties. Nevertheless, in particular after the 1860s and 1870s conquests, tsarist colonialists realised that the enormous potential of Southern lands (the Golodnaya Steppe and Ferghana Valley in particular), due to climatic conditions and to the presence of a big river basin like the Syr Darya basin was, had to be valued. Before Russian took control of the region, Central Asian agriculture was based on land units of less than 5 desyatinas. Large estates existed but were mainly devoted to husbandry. Ownership of the land was mostly divided between the clergy, holding the waqfs145, and great landlords, whose scattered properties were cultivated by tenant farmers146. Small farmsteads dominated cotton production too. In 1882, Nikolai Karlovic von Giers headed a commission that had to definitely ascertain land ownership rights in Turkestan. Among the outcomes of his investigation, which constituted the basis for the 1886 Turkestan Statute, the issue of plot size emerged. Indeed, pre-existing irrigation systems and the geographic and climatic features of the region made traditional small-plot intensive farming (with high yields on small plots) more profitable than typical Russian extensive farming (with low yields on large plots). In particular, the commission discouraged the allocation of local family farm lands to the

144 Muriel Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, The Russian Review 54, no. 3 (1995), 370. 145 The waqfs were economic and social institutions holding vast agricultural lands and diverse income-yielding real estates, donated as charitable endowments by private or the State. See: Gerard O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s: Agrarian revolution or social engineering?”, in Central Asia: Aspects of Transition, ed. Tom Everett-Heath (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 63. 146 Whitman, “Turkestan Cotton in Imperial Russia”, 195-196. 42 construction of new Cossack settlements, since the enlargement of the plots was hampered by the structural features of irrigation, while Cossacks were deemed unable to practice intensive farming. For that reason, even after the 1873 decree, which made expropriation of family farms (dehkan) by the State easy, many Russians realised soon that it was not convenient, since local farmers produced by far more cotton147. However, such feature of Turkestan land tenure, left basically unchanged until World War I, had a great impact on its economy and productivity. The small size of the plots hampered a widespread use of machinery, while the high fragmentation and large number of farmers made cooperative methods of production difficult to realise. Moreover, each peasant was unable to rotate his crops in such a limited space and this necessarily led to the intensive cultivation of high-value crops148. Despite remarkable levels of productivity, Turkestan’s contribution to the Russian cotton industry was irrelevant until 1880s. The only peak in production had been due to the American Civil War (1861-1865), which triggered the global “cotton famine”. In late 1850s, Russia imported 92% of its raw cotton from the US and Central Asia accounted for a mere 6.5% of it149. By early 1862, the US exports had dropped by 96%, leading many great powers depending on its cotton to find new markets. In those years, due to a worldwide cotton inflation, Central Asian cotton prices tripled, and exports grew by 460%150. As it could be foreseen, it was a temporary boom. By the end of the decade, American cotton exports had regained its pre-war levels, and Russia continued to rely on imports to supply its cotton industry until 1890s: between 1869 and 1893, it imported around 500 million kg of cotton, spending 1,568,931,000 roubles151. Therefore, a more gradual development plan of Turkestan cotton growing took off. The strategy adopted by the State envisaged four major interventions: the introduction of the American cotton, the customs policy, the tax break on cotton cropping, and the construction of the railway. 1) The local variety of cotton was of a low quality. Its fibres were thicker and shorter, which made it less suitable for machine spinning. In the early 1870s, Kaufman tried to introduce both new machinery and cotton species. American cotton seeds were brought to Central Asia and, after early failures, were successfully implanted. A series of incentives were offered by the State for switching to the new crop. The Ministry of Agriculture and State Domains set up experimental farms to introduce local farmers to the new cultivation152;

147 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 77-78. 148 Whitman, “Turkestan Cotton in Imperial Russia”, 197. 149 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 61-62. 150 Ibid. 151 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 80. 152 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 367-368. 43

Russian State credit institutions offered free-interest loans to whomever would pass to American seeds; State bought American cotton for twice the price paid to local variety producers153. The private sector joined soon, in particular exponents of the Central Industrial Region (CIR), that was the industrial cluster corresponding to the area of Moscow and its eastern and northern surrounding provinces. It was the most ancient industrialised region of Russia and by 1915 it employed 37% of the Empire’s workers154. In 1880s, some of them started to distribute American cotton seeds to local farmers freely155. However, the development of cotton growing relied on the welfare of farmers. Especially for cash crop farmers, financial support was vital to survival between planting and harvest. Russian officials started thinking to introduce cheap credit to Turkestan. The existing county loan offices, named “people’s loan institutions”, opened a branch in Namangan in 1876. Also banks contributed to support small farmers. By the 1910s, the Ferghana Valley counted 20 banking institutions and 5 county loan offices operating there156. 2) Russia reintroduced a tariff of 40 gold kopeks per pud on cotton imports in 1878, after charging no one in the aftermath of the American Civil War. Initially, the tariff had no protectionist purposes, since Turkestan cotton was still of little relevance for Russian economy. However, with the introduction of American seeds, tariffs began to support Central Asian agriculture: in 1887 a levy of 1 gold rouble per pud was imposed on foreign cotton and raised to 2.1 roubles in 1894. Subsequent increases up to 5.75 roubles in 1915, albeit charged mainly for fiscal needs, had further protectionist effects157. Imports from the US were thus discouraged, and demand was partly redirected towards Turkestan’s production. 3) In the meanwhile of the implementation of the protectionist policies described above, a kind of subsidy was put on cotton growing. In 1891, a tax break on land sown to cotton was introduced for a period of six years, later consolidated as a long-term policy. This intervention acted as a subsidy, fostering the expansion of the cultivations, especially among Muslims.158

153 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 81. 154 Robert W. Davies, The Industrialisation of Soviet Russia 3: The Soviet Economy in Turmoil 1929-1930 (London: Macmillan Press Ltd, 1989), 23. 155 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 368. 156 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 81. 157 Whitman, “Turkestan Cotton in Imperial Russia”, 198. 158 Beatrice Penati, “The Cotton Boom and the Land Tax in Russian Turkestan (1880s-1915)”, Kritika: Explorations in Russian and Eurasian History 14, no. 4 (2013), 743, 754. 44

4) As previously reported, one of the factors rendering Turkestan cotton more costly and qualitatively worse was the poor conditions of transportation. Albeit backed by strategic and military motives, the construction of the railway was a fundamental stimulus to Central Asia cotton growing and trade. The Transcaspian line159 was the first one to be completed and put into use in 1886, connecting the cotton regions of to the Caspian Sea. After twelve years, the railroad was extended to the Ferghana Valley, heading to Andijan, which was acknowledged its economically strategic role. Between 1898 and 1900, it contributed to the 54% increase in cotton acreage of Turkestan160. All of these interventions led to impressive increases in Turkestan cotton growing and its contribution to Russian industry. Basically, they overturned the economic order of the region. The area under cotton cultivation grew by 46 times between 1886 and 1914161. Ferghana oblast was one of the most relevant areas in terms of production and specialisation, with 300,000 out of the 380,000 desyatinas of cotton crops in Turkestan, and from 50% up to 75% of the valley’s sown lands dedicated to cotton. In particular, the American variety had an exponential rise: from 300 desyatinas in 1884, its cultivation reached 58,000 desyatinas in 1890, and 380,000 in 1910162. Passing from 10,000 puds in 1884 to 3,984,200 in 1899 it accounted for 75% of total cotton production in Central Asia. In Ferghana oblast in 1900-1901, 94.3% of the land sown to cotton used American seeds163. As a consequence, Central Asian exports towards Russia took off. In 1877, that was before the construction of the railway and the introduction of the American cotton, about 11,000 tons were exported to Russia, while this figure rose to 350,000 in 1915164, accounting for 70% of raw cotton used in Russia165. After the extension of the railroad and the completion of the first irrigation projects, the increase was ever faster: from 24% in 1900166, the share of Russian cotton from

159 The Transcaspian railway was an important line built basically for strategic purposes (quick transfer of military forces southwards, on the border with the British Empire), that connected the town of Uzun-Ada on the Caspian Sea to the southern city of Merv in Turkmenistan. See: Michael P. Gerace, Military Power, Conflict and Trade (London: Frank Cass, 2004), 181-182. 160 Ibid., 198. 161 Peter L. Roudik, The History of the Central Asian Republics (Westport: Greenwood Press, 2007), 86. 162 C. Poujol and V. Fourniau, “Trade and the Economy”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, ed. Chahryar Adle (Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005), 58. 163 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 369. 164 Poujol and Fourniau, “Trade and the Economy”, 69. 165 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 81. 166 Roudik, The History of the Central Asian Republics, 86. 45

Turkestan grew to 30% in 1908, 50% in 1910167 and 60% in 1912168. Transportation by rail had a huge impact: while in 1893 commodities were not moved by train, in 1897 cotton traffic reached 250,000 tons per year and 1,250,000 in 1909169. Such sudden development of the region, despite not favouring a massive emergence of a cotton-related industry, led to the appearance of early- processing factories. By 1914, 378 cotton gins had been opened in Turkestan and two thirds of them operated in the Ferghana oblast170. However, cotton growing in Central Asia was still realising far less than its potential. Traditional production patterns survived until early 20th century (1900, 90% of cotton in Turkestan was raised in plots of less than 5 desyatinas171) and, as mentioned above, they limited land productivity. But the real obstacle to a full exploitation of cotton crops in Turkestan was irrigation. In a report by General N. Petrov in 1894, additional 610,000 desyatinas were deemed to be potentially irrigated in the sole Syr Darya basin. Using just half of that land would raise cotton exports to Russian from 2 to 7 million puds172. Harnessing this gold mine required huge investments and technical capacities, and presented major political and social challenges that the Russian Empire did not manage to overtake.

2.1.3. Irrigation Between Ambitions and Bureaucracy

By the 1850s, important works to extend the irrigation system were being implemented in several areas of Central Asia, among which the Ferghana Valley. An ancient tradition in canal building had led to surprisingly advanced techniques and effectiveness in the field of irrigation, in spite of the lack of modern tools and knowledge. Some of the regional canals reached long distances, like the Shakhrikhan Say, running down from the Kara Darya for 65 km. Nevertheless, engineering was very poor. The overall direction was set in the initial steps of the work, but subsequently the natural flow determined the actual path of the canal. Diversion of water was realised through temporary structures, while few dams had been built. Canals required labour intensive activities, both in construction and maintenance phases. Therefore, the demanded high number of workers and the fundamental importance of irrigation for local agriculture, led to the setting up of a well- defined management system of water resources, largely based on communal work. Every farm

167 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 99. 168 Poujol and Fourniau, “Trade and the Economy”, 69. 169 Roudik, The History of the Central Asian Republics, 86. 170 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 82. 171 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 99. 172 Ibid., 97. 46 was responsible for the smaller ditches it directly benefitted from, while public labour was used for larger canals: during the winter, each family in its draining area had to provide a man to contribute to the works for free, as a duty173. For the correct allocation and proper supervision of the irrigation system, local community had specific officials, named mirab and aryk-aksakal (or mirab bashi). The former was in charge of apportioning water among different users of a single village, thus superintending minor ditches. The latter was responsible for water allocation of the major canals, serving multiple villages. They had the task of setting the rotation scheme, according to which water was allowed to be used by different communities on a time basis (the use period ranged from two days up to one week)174. Beyond distribution duties, they regulated water disputes and ensure the mandatory maintenance of the system175. In fact, water allocation was regulated by customary rules, guided by the principle of equity among the various properties176. Those administrative figures had only to ensure that not written norms were actually observed. Mirabs were locally elected, while aryk-aksakaly were appointed directly by the khan, after consultation with mirabs and tax collectors. In some cases, and mainly for the most relevant canals, they inherited the post177. Both were remunerated for their work, either in kind or cash178. The reality was one of corruption and uncertainty. No written norm gave immense power to the discretion of those officials179. Notwithstanding that backward system, Russians left water allocation pattern almost intact for the whole XIXth century. The first and limited attempt to provide some written norms to Central Asian water management was the 1886 Turkestan Statute, although simply ratifying the existing customs. Indeed, article 256 stated that “[t]he local population is entitled to use the water in irrigation canals, streams and lakes in accordance with local customs”180. Only appointing and electing procedures were slightly changed. Mirabs’ election took place simultaneously with the

173 Matley, “The Golodnaya Steppe: A Russian Irrigation Venture In Central Asia”, 329-330. 174 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 68. 175 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 381. 176 Richard A. Pierce, Russian Central Asia 1867-1917: A Study in Colonial Rule (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1960), 144-145. 177 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 68. 178 A. Tabyshalieva, “Social Structures in Central Asia”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, ed. Chahryar Adle (Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005), 99. 179 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 381. 180 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 78. 47 local elders’ ones, and they were paid by local communities. Aryk aksakaly were appointed by the military governor of the province and confirmed by Governor-General and paid by State funds181. Nevertheless, plans to expand and improve the irrigation system were proposed since the early years of domination. Under the governor-generalship of General Kaufman, in 1872 a project was started in the Golodnaya Steppe but after seven years and huge investments it was abandoned. The first actual advances were made by a private individual: the Grand Duke Nikolay Kostantinovich Romanov. After failing in building a canal in the Bukhara region, in the 1890s he undertook a bigger project near Kishlak-Begov, few kilometres down the western gateway of the Ferghana Valley. The Nikolay I Canal was finished in 1898 and was 55 km long. However, it irrigated only 7,000 desyatinas and required frequent maintenance interventions182. In the same years, the State started to acknowledge the urgency of a widespread irrigation network. In 1890, the Minister of Finance Ivan Vyshnegradsky acknowledged the necessity of irrigation for cotton self-sufficiency and colonisation183. Twenty years later, Krivoshein echoed his words, proposing to irrigate and settle additional 3 million desyatinas of land, that corresponded to the existing irrigated lands of Turkestan184. For that reason, the results reached by the Nicolay I Canal were deemed unsatisfactory and works to extend it were initiated. The first State project based on European technology started in 1901 with the purpose of irrigating 209,750 desyatinas through 8 canals. It would cost 11,707,000 roubles185. However, State-led works showed inefficiency and lack of technical expertise. The Romanov Canal, projected to irrigate 45,000 desyatinas, was the first the be opened in 1913, irrigating a mere 15,000 desyatinas, extended to 28,000 in 1916186 at the cost of 8 million roubles instead of the planned 2.5187. Despite celebrating its opening as a success, Saint Petersburg had turned to the private sector already in 1904, when tsarist officials formally requested assistance to the Polish and CIR textile industries. In the same year, the Commission to Develop Russian Cotton Growing was set up, dominated by the “kings of cotton”188. The first outcome of the Commission was the establishment of the Moscow Irrigation Company, in charge of carrying out major irrigation projects, especially in the Ferghana Valley. It gathered important

181 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 68. 182 Matley, “The Golodnaya Steppe: A Russian Irrigation Venture In Central Asia”, 334-335. 183 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 369. 184 N. A. Abdurakhimova, “Tsarist Russia and Central Asia”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, ed. Chahryar Adle (Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005), 140. 185 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 369. 186 Matley, “The Golodnaya Steppe: A Russian Irrigation Venture In Central Asia”, 334-335. 187 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 369. 188 Ibid., 372. 48 figures of the textile industry. In the meanwhile, Krivoshein, acknowledging that the new economic setting would require more certainty and different patterns in water allocation, started drafting a new water law189. A revolution in the water management of Turkestan was getting prepared. The end of the first decade of the twentieth century was dedicated to scientific development in the field of agriculture and irrigation in Central Asia. The State, in particular the Department of Land Improvement of the Ministry of Agriculture, launched several irrigation projects, which will be mostly realised by Soviet administration. In 1913, a technical Department, the gidromodul’naya chast’, started systematic analysis of water bodies of Central Asia. Experiments on new varieties of cotton took place as well, like a new one created out of the Russel variety of American cotton, which would be used intensively under Soviet rule. National sectoral conferences, such as the Tashkent conference in 1912, about cotton and irrigation were organised. The strict dependency of cotton from water diversion and management, through canals and dams, became ever more evident190. The Moscow Irrigation Company conducted its own field researches, working on a proposal to submit to the authorities for approval. In the following three years, dialogue between private sector, represented by Russian entrepreneurs engaged in the textile industry, and the State was intense. The company’s project (eventually formally communicated by Kuznetsov (a cotton lord) to Krivoshein in 1912) aimed to irrigate 225,000 desyatinas in 35 years, with a first batch of 50,000 in the first 10 years. The enterprise required exclusive rights to Naryn river’s water and the ownership of 50% of State lands that would be irrigated by the planned system. In 1911, Krivoshein’s GUZZ drafted its proposed set of rules for the alleged concession. They accepted the 50% property condition but put strong limits on private activity. With the mediation of a new committee, the Central Cotton Committee, made up of both governmental and private sector representatives and operating in 1911-1912, a new proposal favourable to the latter prevailed and was published in 1913, as the bill “On the Production of Irrigation Work at Private Expense in the Syr Darya, , , Semirechie and Transcaspian Oblasts”191. However, the State still sought to restrict private enterprises, through the standard contract regulating specific operations of individual firms, which would ultimately set the economic relations between State and private companies. Krivoshein presented his proposal of the standard contract in November 1913. Among its most relevant provisions, a 20% in kind payment to the private builders, two years of free

189 Ibid., 381. 190 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 122. 191 Joffe, “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, 377-378. 49 access to water to colonists and 20% of the lands transferred to the entrepreneurs to be settled by Russians were envisaged. Under the pressure of Turkestan Governor-General Samsonov, the the contractual deadline was reduced, and the entire project must now be completed in six years. Both the bill and the proposed standard contract were examined by the Council of Ministers, which recommended that regulations affecting both the State and local population, like that on remuneration, required legislative approval. This gave the private sector the opportunity to further lobby. However, the extremely slow response of the State and the huge restrictions posed by both the bill and the standard contract discouraged the entrepreneurs192. In January 1913, Krivoshein eventually presented his water law to the Duma. Given the importance of water for local economy and society, it acknowledged water rights as belonging to the sphere of public-legal relations, thus subordinating private property to public good. An important provision of the law was that regulating access to “free water”, namely water not claimed by any user yet. The rule followed the “verkhovnoe rasporiazhenye”, namely the disposition by the supreme authorities, and foresaw a ranking of access: State and public needs had the priority over drinking and domestic use, while irrigation and industrial-technical enterprises had only a residual right. It was a further attack on private companies’ competitiveness vis-à-vis State irrigation projects. In spite of Krivoshein’s will to leave the traditional water management system as intact as possible, it de facto revolutionised it, with a major shift of resource government from users to State. Eventually, irrigation law did never come to life. Duma did not pass the bills and the harsh revolts in 1916, followed by the civil war, as reported in the next chapter, interrupted any further advance in dialogue193. Beyond administrative inefficiency, State opposition to entrepreneurs’ stances derived from its opposite interpretation of Turkestan’s irrigation development. Actually, the former (and Krivoshein above all) deemed irrigation as a fundamental means to strengthen Russian rule in the borderland and foster local development, which had always been the primary goal for State officials. The latter pursued economic objectives, mainly concerned of widening profits and cutting off national competitors such as Polish and Saint Petersburg industrialists. The ambitious projects laid down during the tsarist period had mostly remained on paper, and the great development of cotton growing dramatically lacked an appropriate support by irrigation: in

192 Ibid., 378-380. 193 Ibid., 385-386. 50

1912, irrigated land accounted for a mere 2% of the whole Turkestan194. Administrative and technical inadequacy on the side of State officials, the huge resources and risk demanded by the projects at stake and the opposite stances by public and private actors hampered the construction of an effective canal network. As for the Ferghana Valley in particular, one element should be underlined. Despite internal administrative borders, which intentionally divided ethnic groups and clans, Russian rulers maintained the valley united, identifying it as a single entity (the Ferghana oblast). This was vital for the economy of Turkestan and, in turn, of Russia itself, being the valley a fundamental centre of cotton production. Nevertheless, such an intensive development of cotton cultivation led to an irreversible destiny for local economy, with consequences on social and environmental features of the region. Indeed, by the outbreak of WWI, 72.5% of agricultural incomes of the valley came from cotton, compared to 5-7% before Russian conquest. This growth happened at the expense of food crops like grain (from 50% to 12.5%) and rice (from 40% to 4%). This rendered the Ferghana Valley as well as the whole Turkestan heavily dependent on imports from Russia for food and fodder, which exposed it to the risk of famine195. This risk turned into facts when the Empire started squeezing Turkestan economy at the outbreak of the War. 100% increases of tax on irrigated land in 1914 and the governmental decision of setting a low standardised price for cotton in 1915 combined with the skyrocketing of essential goods prices. Prices rose by 250% for rice and sugar, by 300% for grain and even by 400% for bread. The Ferghana Valley, which saw one of the fastest inflations of the region, went on a vast-scale unrest in 1916196. The Ferghana Valley had become the leading cotton producing area in Turkestan at the cost of the disruption of its old order in water distribution197 and its food self-sufficiency, turning to a risky monoculture. Tsarist administration had successfully triggered the irreversible revolution of local order, although it was still far from its full realisation. Economic and agricultural transformation had yet to be followed by mechanisation and major infrastructural interventions. However, those further transformations appeared to be inevitable, given the precise role the valley had acquired by far. With an economy entirely relying on cotton, irrigation was the natural following step of the evolution. Soviet rulers understood it and carried out the tsarist plan for the valley, going even

194 Ibid., 309. 195 Whitman, “Turkestan Cotton in Imperial Russia”, 201. 196 Abdullaev, Khotamov, Kenensariev, “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, 76. 197 Aleksandr I. Woeikof, Le Turkestan Russe (Paris: Librairie Armand Colin, 1914), 310. 51 further and setting the conditions for the environmental and political challenges the region would met at the end of the twentieth century.

2.2. Change and Continuity: the Soviet Policy in Central Asian Agriculture and Water Management from 1917 to 1945. 2.2.1. Revolutions

The years between 1916 and 1920 can be considered a period of revolution for the Ferghana Valley. Indeed, as said above, war and famine caused a drastic shrinking of cotton acreage and an increase in its price. This led the government to establish a fix low price to protect textile industry, but it contributed to trigger a widespread revolt, which reached high levels of violence in the valley198. By 1917, with the explosion of the Bolshevik revolutions, Russian authorities had lost the control of the situation in the Ferghana oblast and were focusing on protecting the richer political centre of Tashkent. The valley was split among local Muslim lords and its armed police. Indeed, the changes happened in Turkestan as a reaction to February and then October revolution in 1917 seemed to leave the valley unaffected. In October, in Tashkent Soviets expelled the Turkestan Committee of Provisional Government, which had represented the legal successor of the Governor-Generalship, and proclaimed a new authority made up of leftist radicals and excluding Muslims. On 26th of November, almost as a reaction, a Fourth Extraordinary Regional Congress of Muslims gathered in Kokand to discuss about Turkestan’s independence. Eventually, it adopted a declaration of autonomy within the Russian Federal Republic and elected a Provisional Government of Autonomous Turkestan. The so-called “Kokand Autonomy” was born. However, the ideological divisions and the low international legitimacy undermined the project from the beginning. The resistance, albeit numerous, was fragmented: the newly established Kokand Autonomy did not enjoy the support of the Muslim Kokand People’s Police headed by Ergashbai, nor the aid of the tsarist Russians and Cossacks, who had retreated to the Eastern part of the valley. In such a context, the Bolsheviks attacked: they seized different districts of the main urban centres of the valley, establishing Revolutionary Committees (Revkom) in Kokand, Namangan, Margilan and Andijan. In January 1918, the Fourth Congress of Soviets of Turkestan outlawed the Kokand Autonomy and arrested its leaders. This fact stirred up the resistance, which

198 Lipovsky, “The Central Asian Cotton Epic”, 533. 52 was fostered by the kurbashis, Muslim local authorities entitled to use force. Still very divided, in the fall of 1919 the resistance forces took Osh and attacked Margilan and Andijan, proclaiming a provisional military government. However, the counteroffensive by the well-equipped Red Army was decisive. After repressing the revolt, the Bolsheviks tried to negotiate and to include some Muslim leaders into their institutions. Nevertheless, when one of them, Mudaminbek, was killed in 1920 and his companions declared an Islamic State of Turkestan, reorganising a small army of 6,000 soldiers, the Soviet Army carried out its final counterattack and gained total control of the valley by fall 1920199. The consequences of the uninterrupted disorders in Turkestan and the valley, namely popular revolts, famine, and civil war, were huge, both in terms of agriculture and human lives. Beside the ever-increasing demand of cotton, which caused growing dependency on Russia for grain, other factors contributed to the collapse of the region. Indeed, in the summer of 1916, while tensions for the frozen price of cotton and the skyrocketing inflation on basic foodstuff rose, the decision from Petrograd to mobilise Turkestan people for civilian labour in the army triggered bloody popular revolts was taken. Nonetheless, many people were actually mobilised and could not return until summer of 1917. The massive migration of rural labour force contributed to the drop in cultivated area. Moreover, a snowless winter between 1916-1917 followed by a dry spring with occasional frosts, which destroyed most of the harvest200. From 1918 to 1919, a Cossack Ataman named Dutov blockaded the rail routes between Russia and Turkestan, further isolating the region from its food suppliers201. In 1921 a terrible flood brought further devastation202. The irrigated agriculture was particularly hit by the war. Many canals and infrastructures were destroyed and both Bolsheviks and Basmachi203 used water as a weapon, denying access to it to many farmers204.

199Sergey Abashin, Kamoludin Abdullaev, Ravhsan Abdullaev, Arslan Koichev, “Soviet Rule and the Delineation of Borders in the Ferghana Valley, 1917-1930”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. Frederick S. Starr (Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 94-102. 200 Marco Buttino, “Study of the economic crisis and depopulation in Turkestan, 1917-1920”, Central Asian Survey 9, no. 4 (1990), 60-61. 201 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 142. 202 Robert A. Lewis, “The Irrigation Potential of Soviet Central Asia”, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 52, no. 1 (1962), 100. 203 Basmachi movement was born as a banditry, but acquired national-liberation ambitions in the aftermath of 1917 revolutions. The term Basmachi identified the predominantly Islamic revolutionary movement that opposed Bolsheviks after 1917. See: Michael Rywkin, Moscow’s Muslim Challenge: Soviet Central Asia (Armonk: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 1990), 42-43. 204 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 143. 53

As a result, irrigated lands in Turkestan halved between 1915 and 1922205. In the Ferghana Valley, irrigated acreage in 1922 was only 4.3% of 1916 surface206. As for cotton, cultivated land passed from more than one million acres in 1913 to 200,000 acres in 1921207 in the whole Turkestan. The cost in terms of human lives was the highest one. Turkestan’s population dropped by 2 million people between 1916 and 1920208. In the Ferghana Valley it reduced by 25-30% from 1915 to 1920, affecting mainly locals, and nomads in particular209. Between 300,000 and 500,000 perished in the civil war210.

2.2.2. Early Soviet policies: Land and Water Reform and National Territorial Delimitation (1918-1929)

The first policies formally adopted by the Bolsheviks in Central Asian either were not implemented in fact or contributed to worsen the already confused situation. With limited knowledge of the local rural and ethnic features, Soviet administration tried to sweep away any trace of pre-Soviet legacy, from traditional land tenure and water management to tsarist administrative borders211. However, it was also after the repression of the Basmachi revolution that Bolsheviks managed to strengthen their power in the region, through alliances and propaganda. A reformist and anti- imperialist discourse helped them improving their reputation among local people. At the same time, a softer stance towards Muslims, proved, for instance, by the legalisation of Muslim institutions, secured the support of large parts of the population, including the most conservative ones212. Nevertheless, the two principal interventions of the early Soviet rule, in terms of the impact they had on the configuration of Central Asia for the following decades, happened in the agrarian sector, involving both land and water policies, and in territorial delimitation. Soon after the October revolution in 1917, Bolsheviks implemented a previously drafted and adopted legislation on land. It was enforced by the second All-Russia Congress of Soviets on 26 October 1917. The so-called “land decree” envisaged the nationalisation of land and the creation of model farms. On 9 February 1918 a more detailed law on “socialisation of land”, laying down

205 Gerard O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s”, 72. 206 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 145. 207 O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s”, 72. 208 Buttino, “Study of the economic crisis and depopulation in Turkestan, 1917-1920”, 65. 209 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 143. 210 Abashin et al., “Soviet Rule and the Delineation of Borders in the Ferghana Valley, 1917-1930”, 102. 211 O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s”, 57. 212 Abashin et al., “Soviet Rule and the Delineation of Borders in the Ferghana Valley, 1917-1930”, 103. 54 the mechanisms of redistribution was approved by the All-Russia Central Executive Committee. By the end of 1918, committees charged with making inventories of lands and water in Turkestan were established, while selling and purchasing lands was outlawed213. In the subsequent months, nationalisation targeted the cotton industry as well. Through decrees in February and March 1918, cotton-related factories like ginning mills and oil pressing mills were expropriated and the leadership of factories was formally transferred to the proletariat. Nevertheless, such pieces of legislation were often vague in their wording or were not accurate enough in forecasting and preventing the consequences of their provisions. Indeed, the new pattern, while empowering the poorest peasants, removed rich but vital figures like the middlemen and the kulak (or bay). The former were the intermediaries between peasants and industry and were necessary as paying in advance for their raw cotton; their disappearance was a heavy blow to the financial sustainability of poor farmers’ activity. The latter, despite enriching through landless peasants’ work, were specialised in cotton growing business. The sudden overthrow of the system left inexperienced people without sufficient credit in charge of carrying out a complex business in an uncertain legal and political climate. This encouraged many farmers to turn to other crops214. However, this seems to be part of a longer-term reform of the agrarian system. As Gerard O’Neill puts it, the Bolsheviks had to solve a dilemma of either implementing total land redistribution to proletarians in order to win their support or privileging large scale production, as the Marxist dogma imposed. According to Lenin, the choice of redistribution had a precise objective: disrupting the traditional feudal and serf system by reducing it to its basic units, namely individual small land plots. Only then the construction of a truly socialised agriculture could be possible, by aggregating the inefficient fragmented producers in larger collectivised farms215. In this perspective, collectivisation could be seen as the logic result of the agrarian reforms of the early decrees in 1917 and 1921, the important reform of 1925-1926 and the proper collectivisation of 1928216. Nevertheless, the effects of the first two years of land policies were modest. Due to the scarce political influence and presence in certain areas of Turkestan, and the inadequacy of many sharecroppers who suddenly found themselves as land owners, things remained de facto unchanged in many regions. Data on redistribution in the first three years of Soviet rule show poor

213 O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s”, 71. 214 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 144. 215 O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s”, 68-70. 216 Ibid., 74. 55 results. When it was actually implemented, peasants often leased the lands they formally owned to their previous kulaks, because technically or financially unable to run them. In general, it advantaged native population. The biggest attempt took place in 1921 in the provinces of Kanibadam, Jalalabad and some areas of Osh county, where about 45,000 hectares of land were redistributed to Koshchi, namely the Union of Paupers and Day Labourers217. Overall, the amount of land redistributed as a consequence of the wave of reforms adopted from 1918 to 1922 is estimated between 285,000218 and 470,000 hectares219. As for water and irrigation, the path of reforms seemed softer and more in continuity with tsarist rule. In March and June 1918, the supervision of the major irrigation works passed to the Turkestan’s People’s Commissariat of Agriculture, successor of the Turkestan branch of the Administration of Agriculture. In the meanwhile, local specialised organs, the “Administrations of Water Management” or Vodkhoz were established in different regions of Russia. Turkestan’s Vodkhoz (Turkvodkhoz) was founded in Tashkent in 1918 and M. V. Rykunov was appointed as its chief. After the National Territorial Delimitation policy, begun in 1924, the centralised administrative institutions split in different national bodies, within the newly established Republics. National Vodkhoz were formed as well, while a Central Asian Water Administration or Sredazvodkhoz was established, headed by Rykunov himself and under the direct control of the Central Asian Bureau of the Russian Communist Party Central Committee. Such fragmentation was also the source of several coordination problems and competitive policies, mainly about irrigation, among the Republican administrations220. Despite such formal transformation, there are numerous examples of continuity with the previous regime. The case of the engineer Georgii K. Rizenkampf was an emblematic one. He had been an hydro-technician of the tsarist Ministry of Agriculture’s Department of Land Improvement, and after the revolution he became a member of the “Administration for Irrigation Works in Turkestan”, founded in 1918. The lively interest the new rulers displayed in the issue of irrigation in Turkestan was decisive to gain the commitment of several competent engineers, who had

217 Abashin et al., “Soviet Rule and the Delineation of Borders in the Ferghana Valley, 1917-1930”, 104. The Koshchi union was a mass organisation of working peasants in Turkestan SSR, which gathered already existing unions of poor peasants, born to protect the interests of the peasantry against bais and the clergy. See: The Great Soviet Encyclopedia, “Koshchi”, The Great Soviet Encyclopedia, 3rd Edition (1970-1979) (The Gale Group, 2010), available at https://encyclopedia2.thefreedictionary.com/Koshchi. 218 Hélène Carrère d’Encausse, The Great Challenge: Nationallities and the Bolshevik State, 1917-1930 (New York: Holmes and Meier, 1992), 202. 219 Elizabeth E. Bacon, Central Asians under Russian Rule: A Study in Culture Change (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966), 118. 220 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 156-157. 56 previously seen their projects ignored or abandoned by the tsarist officers221. Lenin put particular emphasis on the importance of irrigation for Turkestan and its revitalisation and was actively involved in laying out new projects. He signed a decree transferring 50 million roubles to irrigation works in Central Asia and commissioned Rizenkampf to resume his famous plan for the development of the Hungry Steppe222. Among the other things, exploitation of water resources for hydropower and the construction of electric power stations in former peripheral areas were already foreseen in this plan. Nevertheless, no significant hydroelectric power plants were built under Lenin. The major works took during and after WWII223. In the meanwhile, water was declared State property in August 1922224 and the Law on Water Monopoly was adopted in May 1924: it restricted the resource to “labour use”, while annulling the rights of “large property owners” and waqfs 225. In 1925, Soviet administration officially launched the land-water reform. The years between 1925 and 1927 represented the peak of the reformist effort in this field. Presented as a struggle for justice, the reform aimed at overturning the traditional economic and power relations among the rich bey or kulaks and the sharecroppers and landless peasants through redistribution. However, aryk-aksakaly and mirabs were seen as representatives of the old feudal system and were targeted as well. In particular, water authorities were established to be approved by the State. A renovation of mirabs was prompted in order to weep out “disloyal” ones. Republics226 and Moscow debated upon whether they should be paid by the State or by local population, as had been traditionally. The former option prevailed, as it would enhance State influence upon the peasants, and they were financed by Vodkhoz. However, state salaries were lower than previous

221 Ibid., 147-148. 222Under the direct supervision of the Sredazvodkhoz, he laid down his gigantic irrigation project in order to maximise the production of cotton. The new system would irrigate 2.2 million desyatinas in 10 years, make massive use of machinery and should be formed by fewer but structurally sounder canals, with cemented beds. It envisaged the social and economic development of the region as well: new cities, railway lines, roads, factories. The estimated cost amounted to one billion roubles. Rizenkampf’s project encompassed also hydroelectric plants and reservoirs. Actually, in those years the topic of electrification and the exploitation of hydropower was on the rise. Lenin himself upheld the vital importance of electricity for industrial and national development. He asked the engineer Maximilian Krzhizhanovky to lay out a non-technical plan for the electrification of the nation. By the end of 1920, “mankind’s first integral state plan of economic development on the basis of electrification” had been realised. See: Halil B. Sakal, “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, Conference Paper (2016), 8-9; Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 154; Vladimir J. Steklov, Electrification in the U.S.S.R. (Moscow: Foreign Languages Pub. House, 1965), 7. 223 Sakal, “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, 9. 224 Carrère d’Encausse, The Great Challenge: Nationallities and the Bolshevik State, 1917-1930, 202. 225 O’Neill, “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s”, 72. 226 As explained below, in 1924, the NTD process divided Turkestan ASSR into new administrative units, created on the basis of national criteria. In the region of the Ferghana Valley, the Uzbek SSR, the Tajik ASSR (later SSR) and the Kyrgyz ASSR (later SSR) were created. 57 popular contributions and led to higher corruption and incompetency among the officers227. In 1925 and 1926, further decrees reaffirmed the original legislation on nationalisation, imposing low “thresholds” for confiscation. Ferghana oblast had the lowest ones, with total confiscation of lands of over 39 desyatinas, while partial confiscation of farms between 7 and 39 desyatinas. Quotas for reallocation were fixed at 7, 10 and 12 desyatinas. In the Ferghana Valley, expropriations began in December 1925 and benefitted almost 37,000 farmers, among sharecroppers and landless ones. In the Uzbek Soviet Socialist Republic, more than 207,000 desyatinas were redistributed to 66,000 households228. The overall process ended officially in 1927 but continued until 1929 in some areas. Cotton acreage grew (in Uzbekistan, from 349,000 acres in 1925 to 530,000 in 1928) but yields per hectare stagnated (total yield in Uzbekistan amounted to 354,000 tonnes in 1925 and 518,000 in 1928). The effect of such reform was the abolition of old power relations, by weeping out kulaks and large and mid-sized farms, and the extreme fragmentation of land among small and less efficient producers. Although it barely extinguished the category of sharecroppers and reduced landless peasants to 0.5% of the total population of former Turkestan, the reform had rather a symbolic effect: deleting the institutional legacy of traditional and tsarist systems and introducing Soviet categories. The limits of the new system would be fixed by subsequent collectivisation229. Those reforms were greatly publicised by State propaganda, as a milestone of the Socialist struggle against social inequality. The other great transformation of Central Asia under the Soviet rule was the border drawing, officially started in 1924 and finished in 1936, after several disputes mainly between Uzbek SSR and Kyrgyz ASSR. The large ethnic diversity of Central Asia did not represent a great concern for Soviet officials. Initially, Soviet had a limited knowledge of local ethnic framework, being primarily concerned with the basic distinction between sedentary and nomads, whose most numerous groups were Sarts and Kyrgyz230. Once the situation gained stability in Central Asia, a debate about a new border configuration of the region arose. In 1920, the region was politically organised in the Turkestan Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic, a territorial continuation of tsarist Turkestan Governor- Generalship. In the meanwhile, proposals of a division along ethnic o national lines were raised. As for the national criterion, it is worth mentioning the definition of nation given by Stalin himself, as

227 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 160. 228 Ibid., 73. 229 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 161-163. 230 Arslan Koichiev, “Ethno-Territorial Claims in the Ferghana Valley During the Process of National Delimitation, 1924- 7”, in Central Asia: Aspects of Transition, ed. Tom Everett-Heath (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 45-46. 58

“a historically constituted, stable community of people, formed on the basis of a common language, territory, economic life and psychological make-up manifested in a common culture”.231 Within the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Russian Communist Party, it was argued that this solution would have led to dangerous nationalisms232. In 1924 an ad hoc commission worked on the border drawing. Criteria to be followed were three: 1. Geographical unity: for instance, administrative units sharing water resources or infrastructures should be kept united; 2. Economic rationale: every unit should be oriented towards a market town, namely an urban centre capable of providing principal economic and financial services; 3. Ethnical homogeneity, as far as possible, given the former conditions. The last criterion was questionable in fact. Actually, ethnicities were based on controversial censuses, easily biased by whom drafted it through predefined ethnic categories, which people simply had to sign up. Thus, many groups, like Kurama and Kipchak, which had been registered in tsarist censuses, did not even show up among the options, obliging people to join or Kyrgyz233. In October 1924, the first proposal was presented. It envisaged five administrative entities: the Uzbek SSR, the Turkmen SSR, the Tajik ASSR, the Kyrgyz ASSR and the Kara-Kalpak ASSR. However, problems soon appeared, especially between Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan and the border on the southern and eastern part of the Ferghana Valley234. However, several claims arose. Uzbekistan advanced claims on Osh, because of an alleged Uzbek- Sart majority235, and on some settlements of the Jalalabad province. Kyrgyz ASSR claimed even

231 Joseph Stalin, “‘The Nation,” in Nationalism, ed. John Hutchinson and Anthony Smith (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 20. 232 Paul Bergne, The Birth of Tajikistan (London: I. B. Tauris, 2007), 40–41. 233 Nick Megoran, “The Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan Boundary: Stalin’s Cartography, Post-Soviet Geography”, in Borderlines and Borderlands: Political Oddities at the Edge of the Nation-State, ed. Alexander C. Diener and Joshua Hagen (Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2010), 39. 234 Such demarcation confirmed most of the previous adminsitrative borders, which did not take ethnicities into consideration. The “hottest” spots of the border were, on the eastern side of the valley, the sector surrounding the town of Aravan, including the city of Osh, and on the southern side, the sector between Khalmion and Vuadil, in the basin of the Shakhimardan river.

235 As explained below, Uzbek and Kyrgyz advanced claims on different ethnic groups, strictly identifiable as neither Uzbek nor Kyrgyz, on the basis of cultural and behavioural affinity, especially on their being sedentary or nomad. Sarts were comprised within Uzbek ethnic “umbrella”. 59 more and larger territories. A special Kyrgyz commission proposed an alternative border, including vast territories on the south-eastern boundary236. After further appeals and new border proposals, in May 1927, the CEC confirmed the findings of the commission, except for the cession of Isfara and Sokh to Kyrgyz ASSR. It banned further appeals for the following three years. This penalised Kyrgyz in fact, since soon after the establishment of the new borders, Uzbek authorities arbitrarily occupied two villages at the headwaters of Shakhimardan river, namely Shakhimardan and Iordan. Kyrgyz authorities tried to react through the CEC but were ignored by Moscow authorities. The exclave resists to present days237. The commission tried to keep 1924 borders as much as possible, taking into account irrigation and cotton growing infrastructures. The initial project of ethnic homogeneity had to give way to the principle of economic unity, acknowledging the unfeasibility of clear divisions among communities in the borderlands. Indeed, the entire process left around 50 Uzbek-majority settlements on the Kyrgyz side of the boundary and 100 Kyrgyz-majority ones on the Uzbek side, not considering other ethnicities238. Despite such lengthy work and negotiations, the border was never intended by local dwellers and its Soviet architects or local authorities as an international one, due to the high level of integrity of the valley’s economy and society. Soviet economic plans designed local irrigation, electricity, gas, economic and transport networks on an interdependent, if not on an integrated, basis. Further consequences of such a perception of the boundary arose in agricultural field. Throughout the years, the more populous Uzbeks SSR rented large areas of land from Kyrgyz ASSR (later become Soviet Socialist Republic). However, those operations were poorly contractually regulated, and often the lands were unreturned by the Uzbek or unclaimed by the Kyrgyz party. The open borders allowed transboundary permanent and daily migratory movements239. Such discrepancy between

236 These claims were of ethnic nature, although they deem Kipchaks, Turks and Kara-Kalpaks as Kyrgyz. Such attitude of disputing even over the “affinity” of certain ethnic groups could be seen very clearly in the Bulak-Bashi issue. There, a majority community of Turks lived, but both Uzbek and Kyrgyz upheld their belonging to their own ethnic group, the former stressing their sedentary attitude and the latter their activity of cattle-breeding. Economic reasons drove part of those claims as well. For instance, on the southern border, Kyrgyz wanted Chimion, Vuadil and Uch-Kurgon back because they were trade and economic hubs for and tightly linked to the irrigation system of Kyrgyz and Kipchak surrounding areas. See: Koichiev, “Ethno-Territorial Claims in the Ferghana Valley During the Processo f National Delimitation, 1924-7”, 50. 237 Megoran, “The Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan Boundary: Stalin’s Cartography, Post-Soviet Geography”, 40. 238 Koichiev, “Ethno-Territorial Claims in the Ferghana Valley During the Processo f National Delimitation, 1924-7”, 51- 56. 239 Nick Megoran, “Rethinking the Study of International Boundaries: A Biography of the Kyrgyzstan-Uzbekistan Boundary”, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 102, no. 2 (2012), 464-481, 471-472. 60 formal and practical meaning of the 1924-1927 NTD played a decisive role in setting the conditions for subsequent structural weaknesses in the borderlands as regards water resources. In general, border delineation set up a quite balanced geostrategic situation in the valley. Indeed, Uzbekistan became by far the most important Republic in terms of agricultural production, since most of the valley’s irrigated lands fell within its boundaries. If, by 1927, this was sided by a well- developed irrigation network within Uzbek borders, the situation would change in 1960s, with the construction of reservoirs. Indeed, barely all the headwaters of the regional streams were now in Kyrgyz territory, being vital both for irrigation and, later, for energy, purposes. Kyrgyz SSR had not the needed ability to actually control the flow, but a dangerous separation between water resources and cotton fields had been sentenced, and would show its relevance after the independence in 1991. Finally, Tajikistan owned the physical gateway of the valley to the West, where Uzbek railway and motorway had to pass through to connect the valley to the capital city Tashkent; moreover, in 1951 it would host a crucial facility for the western lowlands’ cotton growing of Uzbekistan, namely the Kairakkum Reservoir240. The NTD had practically laid down the premises for the strategic stalemate of 1990s, with an economically strong downstream country, in control of the main Soviet economic legacy, that was cotton; and a geographical dominant upstream country, economically poorer than Uzbekistan, but in actual control of the latter’s cotton industry.

By the end of 1927, Central Asia had been progressively fragmented into smaller entities. From an agricultural perspective, the land and water reform had set up a situation of small and inefficient plots, prompting the stage to an inevitable production re-aggregation through collectivisation. Water had been brought under the strict control of the State, which now directly controlled the administrative institutions that supervised water management and irrigation projecting. As for the administrative configuration of the region, Soviet Central Asia was now divided into five Republics, either Independent or Autonomous. In particular, the Ferghana Valley was formally split among three administrative entities. However, a new economic phase was to begin, irrespective on the new border setting.

240 Kamoludin Abdullaev and Ravshan Nazarov, “The Ferghana Valley Under Stalin, 1929-1953”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. Frederick S. Starr (Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 123. 61

2.2.3. Stalin’s era and World War II (1929-1945)

The years of Stalin’s rule were characterised by the tightening of the regime’s grip by a great wave of political and administrative purges, both at party and State level, and by a strong boost to cotton growing, through collectivisation, coercion and infrastructural investments. In this respect, the new era of Central Asian economy started in 1927, when experts, who had previously worked for the tsarist empire, began to be suspected of sabotaging the Soviet economy. In the meanwhile, the government carried out a reorganisation of the water administration. The Uzvodkhoz (the Uzbek Vodkhoz) was disbanded in 1931 and replaced by a new Central Irrigation Administration of the Uzbek People’s Commissariat of Agriculture or Glavvodkhoz. It centralised the management and maintenance of major rivers and canal networks, while on-the-ground irrigation management was still in the hands of aryk aksakaly and mirabs. The real weakness of such a move were the purges themselves, which left the system lacking competent personnel: by 1932, only 40% of it had technical training241. The attack on the “old” specialists was predominantly political. Most of their projects and forecast were subsequently consulted and even implemented. For instance, in 1929 the Supreme Hydrotechnical Council of the All-Union Gosplan’s “Water Section” endorsed an official revision of pre-revolutionary Rizenkampf’s plan for the irrigation of the Hungry Steppe, inserting it in its own five-year plan of water management. By that time, the engineer had already been convicted242. The “terror” regime lasted for the whole decade. Purges did not target only engineers. Instead, they were primarily political. In particular between 1932 and 1938 (peaking in the so-called “Great Terror” of 1936-1938) they were numerically conspicuous, to the extent that several high-ranking posts in the political and administrative spheres were left vacant. Such posts were filled by a new servile political class (renamed “the class of ’38”243), like happened to the Uzbek Communist Party with the appointment of the new First Secretary of the Usman Yusupov in 1937. Those replacements triggered relevant transformation in different agencies of the administration, as displayed below regarding Uzbek Water Administration. However, beyond the elites, about 41,000 people were imprisoned and almost 7,000 executed between 1937 and 1939 in Uzbekistan only244.

241 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 172-174. 242 Beatrice Penati, “Collectivisation, resettlement, and new irrigation in Central Asia: the Dal’verzin steppe in the late 1920s”, Draft paper for 2018 BASEES conference (Liverpool, 2018), 10. 243 Donald S. Carlisle, “The Uzbek Power Elite: Politburo and Secretariat (1938–83)”, Central Asian Survey 5, no. 3-4 (1986), 100. 244 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 198-199. 62

Cotton and the Five-year plans

1927 and 1928 were the years of major economic and political turn. While Stalin was consolidating his power, the Gosplan, which had already started its annual plans in 1925, began drafting five- year plans. The first one was announced in 1928 and covered the years from 1928 to 1932. It coincided with a period of agricultural recovery in Central Asia, mainly due to a renewed effort by the State, in terms of investments and reforms. That fed optimism and ambition within Soviet elite and a new goal was fixed. In July 1929, the Moscow’s Central Committee announced that cotton self-sufficiency would be reached by the end of the first five-year plan, in 1933245. The Soviet strategy was based on one main pillar: collectivisation. By 1929, the first kolkhoz and sovkhoz had already been established in Central Asian Republics. The former, abbreviation for Russian kollektivnoye khozyaystvo, were collective farms operating on State-owned land by peasants, nominally owned by themselves, who were salaried on the basis of the qualitative and quantitative output of their work246. The latter, abbreviation for Russian sovetskoe khozyaystvo, were State-operated farms, engaged in specialised large-scale production, which employed hired labour247. Collectivisation operated mainly through kolkhoz. Participation was formally voluntary, but, in fact, it was accompanied by a wave of pressures and expropriations, which forced many peasants to join the new farms. This first phase of the process encountered fierce opposition in the countryside, with the Ferghana Valley and Osh as particular hotspots. The introduction of the new pattern was seen as an assault to the local way of life, while a famine broke again within Central Asia, due to shortage of grain in USSR’s food-producing regions248. In 1930, Stalin himself, in his “Dizzy with success” speech, condemned the violent methods used by local officials and a de facto new stage of collectivisation started. Many peasants immediately left the kolkhozy and softer forms of joint farms arose, such as the arteli, cooperative-like organisations, suggested by Stalin’s speech itself as the ideal pattern for collectivisation249. By 1935, they had become the general form of kolkhoz, and they granted even small amount of land and cattle to be privately owned by its members. In those conditions, collectivisation proceeded rapidly: in Uzbekistan, by

245 Sakal, “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, 8. 246 The Editors of the Enciclopaedia Britannica, “Kolkhoz”, Enciclopaedia Britannica (20 July 1998), available at https://www.britannica.com/topic/kolkhoz.

247 The Editors of the Enciclopaedia Britannica, “Sovkhoz”, Enciclopaedia Britannica (20 July 1998), available at https://www.britannica.com/topic/sovkhoz. 248 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 168-170. 63

1934, 79% of the households had been collectivised, a figure that rose to 95% in 1937. However, 40,000 farmsteads had been expropriated, while 30,000 peasants resettled in newly created special settlements250. In the meantime, State strategy had a great impact on cotton growing. Throughout the first five- year plan, cotton production grew by 70%, from 515,000 tonnes in 1928 to 818,000 in 1933. Nevertheless, this was due to an increase in cotton acreage (from 530,000 ha in 1928 to 891,000 in 1933), while yields per hectare declined in the same period, from 1,060 kg/ha in 1929 to 790 kg/ha in 1934251. According to official data, by 1933 cotton autonomy had been barely reached: 97.4% of domestic demand was produced domestically252. However, this did not mean that Russia did no longer import cotton. Domestic production of cotton supplied also exports. Only in 1938, Russia imported less cotton than it exported253. The second five-year plan (1933-1937) had among its main goals the increase in cotton production as well. In particular, the regime aimed to double it. Nonetheless, the focus was now on yields per hectare, rather than acreage, which would have required a substantial increase in irrigation investments. The goal was fixed at 13,4 centners (1 centner = 100 kg) per hectare for Uzbekistan, to be reached by the end of the five-year plan. Alfalfa was incentivised as the best rotation crop since 1931, occupying 21% of total sown land in Uzbekistan 1934. Strict and invasive regulation of the cotton growing process was implemented. Decrees were issued by Stalin himself requiring separate weighting of single kolkhoznik (member of a kolkhoz) productions, daily records of the harvest, data on the amount of cotton fallen during transportation. Every step of the process was under control, and local officials, kolkhozy and even peasants were held directly responsible for any failure in meeting planned objectives, both in reputational and income terms. The State used also incentives to enhance productivity. The strategy of primitive socialist accumulation, which imposed unfavourable terms of trade on agricultural producers (high prices for industrial goods sold by the monopolistic State and low prices paid to farmers by the monopsonistic State, with minimum delivery quotas) was to be overturned, due to falling yields. In 1932, each hectare produced 0.43 tonnes less compared to 1913 figures. In 1935, the

249 The Editors of the Enciclopaedia Britannica, “Collectivization”, Enciclopaedia Britannica (20 July 1998), available at https://www.britannica.com/topic/collectivization#ref136687. 250 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 171. 251 Ibid., 175-176. 252 Sakal, “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, 8. 253 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 176-177. 64 procurement price paid for cotton was quadrupled. This policy, a complete novelty for Soviet economy, contributed to the skyrocketing of yields and production254. The introduction of machinery was a further tool used by the State to boost cotton growing in Central Asia. The numbers of tractors increased dramatically during the 1930s; by 1940, 24,200 units had been delivered to Uzbekistan. However, modernisation did not impact as wished. Machines were not used as much, either because peasants were unable to use them, or because they did not fit local agricultural characteristics, or were simply not available everywhere. Protests arose against mechanisation as an act of colonial imposition255 By the end of the plan in 1937, Uzbekistan produced 1,522 thousand tons of raw cotton, three times higher than the pre-revolutionary amount. Yields went beyond the expectations, reaching 16.1 centners per hectare (1,610 t/ha)256.

Irrigation From Stagnation to the “People’s Construction” Campaign

In 1927-1928, the administration of water and irrigation underwent a centralisation reform, which transferred large responsibilities and power from Republican to All-Union level. In Central Asia, the management of the major rivers and irrigation networks was a duty of the Central Irrigation Administration of the Uzbek People’s Commissariat of Agriculture (Glavvodkhoz), while long-term goals and policies were set by the Water Section of the All-Union Gosplan itself, through its five- year plans. This reform was mainly due to the willingness to have a more direct control by the State, and the manifest inefficiency in the use of public money by the Republican and local authorities. This latter element, together with political considerations underlying the entire Stalinist wave of purges, led to different institutional reforms and officer replacements257. The consequence of such institutional turmoil was stagnation in irrigation projects. Interventions on the canal networks limited to shortening and adjusting existing canals, as foreseen by Rizenkampf’s plan more than a decade before. Occasional regulations on local water usage were issued. The second five-year plan fixed the reconstruction of the irrigation network in the Ferghana Valley, Zerafshan Valley and in the southern region of . However, by 1938, only one new installation had been built in the Ferghana area. Construction tools and materials were

254 Azizur R. Khan and Dharam Ghai, Collective Agriculture & Rural Development in Soviet Central Asia (London: The Macmillan Press Ltd, 1979), 21. 255 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 191. 256 Khan and Ghai, Collective Agriculture & Rural Development in Soviet Central Asia, 22. 257 Penati, “Collectivisation, resettlement, and new irrigation in Central Asia”, 11. 65 inadequate and local manual work was preferred to machines. As a result, inefficient and insufficient use of irrigation had seriously damaged soils: 500,000 hectares of irrigated lands had been abandoned since 1924 for salinisation and swamping. In some areas, the efficiency in water delivering was only 0.3-0.4, which meant that only 30-40% of the supplied water actually reached the crops. That was also due to a scarce degree of technical qualifications, the bad equipment and low salaries lamented by the hydro-technicians (former aryk aksakaly) and mirabs themselves. Many projects for new infrastructures were proposed, but the engineers and local authorities claimed their unfeasibility in the absence of adequate machinery258. 1938 marked a turning point in water management and irrigation in Central Asia, which the appointment of the new Chairman of the Uzbek Council of People’s Commissars Sultan Segizbaev strongly contributed to. He wanted the re-establishment of the Uzvodkhoz within the People’s Commissariat of Agriculture in 1938. In 1939, a special Commissariat of Water Management was set up, which one year later included the Uzvodkhoz as well. This reorganisation of water administration coincided with a new impetus in infrastructural building: the so-called “People’s Construction” irrigation259. In the spring of 1938, on their own initiative, about 1,000 kolkhozniki of the Papskii district in the Ferghana Valley built the Liagan canal, a stream of nine kilometres that irrigated 100 hectares. The very next year, kolkhoz peasants of Margilan district proposed to link the water-rich Isfairamsai River to the water-poor Shakhimardan River. Their proposal was ratified and, after a planning of only 20 days, the 32-kilometre-long “Greater Liagan Canal” was built. The work took just 17 days and involved around 14,000 kolkhozniki. The new pattern had been inaugurated and envisaged three features: peasant initiative, local manual workforce and high working pace. The greatest of such constructions was undertaken in 1939. Appealed by local kolkhozy, the Uzbek leadership asked for Moscow’s permission to build a huge canal that would irrigate all the water- poor southern strip of the Ferghana Valley. It would be fed by the Naryn River in the North-West and would reach the south-western regions of the valley. After four months of preparation and planning by the engineers I. D. Lebedev, A. N. Askochenskii and V. V. Poslavskii, works began on 1 August 1939. The construction of the “Great Ferghana Canal” (Bol’shoi Ferganskii Kanal, BFK) received 20 million roubles by the Union government and huge equipment. The canal would be 270 km long and its building was divided in 33 units, which local districts and kolkhozy were

258 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 204-206. 259 Ibid., 200. 66 responsible for. The construction was completed in only 45 days by more than 160,000 peasants, and a mere 9% of the work was done by machinery, the rest being carried out by the traditional ketmen (local hoes). Through 48 installations and numerous let-offs, the BFK irrigated 63,000 hectares of new land and delivered additional water to more than 500,000 hectares260. The epic message of a committed Socialist people and of a Soviet miracle was highly exploited by the communist elite. In fact, the very spontaneity of the phenomenon was exaggerated. The “people’s construction” campaign was cleverly fuelled from above as a solution to the State inefficiency in irrigation management. It represented an economically sustainable path as well, since the workforce was actually paid by kolkhozy themselves. Despite the narrative of enthusiastic volunteers, pressure was applied, and Gulag labour was employed.

World War II and the Transition Towards the Future

Unlike the tsarist recruitment of labour troops, which contributed to trigger the widespread unrest of 1916, soldiers from Central Asian Republics joined voluntarily the Red Army. Hundreds of thousands of work-age men left their lands for the years of conflict. As for the only Uzbekistan, 263,000 citizens died during the war. At the same time, a huge flux of immigrants from the West arrived in Central Asia, as a consequence of the massive evacuation of strategic industrial plants away from the fronts. Tashkent was the most affected city, with about 150,000 Soviet evacuees. However, the countryside suffered from a different phenomenon. After the Nazi occupation of some of the Western core grain regions, food supply had barely been interrupted. Uzbek peasants turned to subsistence farming, at the expense of kolkhozy and cotton crops. Cotton acreage dropped, and yields dropped in those years. In just two years, due to the lack of workers, salinisation and swamping problems, and the reduced acreage, cotton harvest declined from 1.6 million tonnes in 1941 to 520,000 tonnes in 1943. Food like rice, wheat and vegetables was cultivated, both for local survival and for front supply. As for irrigation, while “people’s construction” projects continued to arise, Central Asia experienced a slowing down of major works. Electrification was the only sector that was benefitted by the war. After the GOELRO, namely the 1920 plan on Union’s development based on the boost of electrification, progress in that field had been very limited. Indeed, demand in Soviet Central Asia did not even urged any quick

260 Ibid., 213-222. 67 development. In 1937, only 9% of the electricity produced in the whole Union was actually consumed in that region. Despite the forecast and projects of the previous decade, no important hydroelectric power plant was built in the first years of Stalin’s rule261. Nonetheless, the sudden huge immigration and the transfer of several factories demanded an adequate rise in energy supply as well. Hydroelectric plants started to be built, with the involvement of several thousands of peasants. By 1944, six plants were ready to be used. The Farkhad Dam, the biggest one in Central Asia, situated to the West of Khujand, was one of those. After the first decisive victories by the Red Army on Western fronts, and the liberation of some strategic regions, a gradual return to normalcy began. Grain deliveries to Central Asian Republics were resumed, and Moscow started to urge an increased cotton production. In March 1944, the Moscow Central Committee issued a decree on this matter. Kolkhozy were restored and cotton harvests turned out to increase262.

Conclusion1930s played the role of transition period for Central Asian economy and agriculture, or, rather, of stepping stone for post-war development. Indeed, collectivisation and institutional reforms struggled against protests, corruption and low yields for almost a decade before achieving the desired effect. When production reached record levels and irrigation projects took off thanks to the “people’s construction” efforts, the war broke out, freezing the process. Nevertheless, the agricultural apparatus and the irrigational infrastructures were not devastated, as had happened after the World War I and the civil war. On the contrary, people and industrial influx had boosted hydroelectric development, adding a fundamental piece to the water management mosaic of the region. Two relevant outcomes can be individuated in this historical period: cotton and irrigation development, and the border delimitation policy. The ever more interconnected Ferghana Valley saw the dawn of its dense network of waterways, fed by transboundary streams. The neighbouring Republics were dependent on each other for irrigation and for the related riverine water management. However, the network lied predominantly in the plain of the valley, namely in Uzbek territory, with the mountainous areas left barely intact. The construction of major reservoirs on the STTs of the valley was still out of the technological abilities of the engineering, and the investments in irrigation regarded mainly canals. Uzbekistan had, thus,

261 Sakal, “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, 9. 262 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 230-235. 68 the bulk of cotton fields and most of the irrigation facilities on its territory, while Kyrgyzstan had virtually the control of the headwaters, but lacked the infrastructures to actually exert it. As for the border design, the new delimitation as established by the NTD for the first time formally divided the geographical unity of the valley, allegedly following ethnic lines. As a result, many river basins were bisected, creating the aforementioned situation in which Kyrgyz SSR controlled the rivers, and Uzbek SSR benefitted from its waters. However, the ever increasing cotton demand and production, and the consequent need for more efficient water flow control and irrigation, would soon prompt the rapid development of a reservoir network. This would extend the focus of Soviet investments to upstream lands too, and would inevitably link cotton economy to river regulation. It would thus add the final piece to the strategic context of the region, dramatically empowering Kyrgyzstan and setting up a delicate situation of interdependencies that would require a tighter centralisation. Nevertheless, such solution would prove to be not sustainable for an autonomous regional equilibrium.

69

3. A New Era in Water Management: The Dawn of Reservoirs Due to the limited engineering expertise and the considerably backwardness of agriculture and irrigation, largely anchored to traditional techniques, Central Asian pre-war cotton and water policies had impacted predominantly downstream territories. The development of the cash crop had targeted the climatically favourable lowlands of the Syr Darya and Amu Darya basin to the West, and the narrow fertile plain of the Ferghana Valley to the East. Accordingly, in those regions, the construction of a well developed irrigation network that would support a more rational and effective distribution of water to the lands had been initiated since the Tsarist times. Arid lands had been rendered cultivable and transformed into productive areas. However, even major projects, like the Great Ferghana Canal, had still relied on the outdated and inefficient local technology, and the involvement of engineers had been limited to a better design of canal beds and intakes. As a consequence, until 1950s, agriculture and irrigation had been totally dependent on the natural water discharge of the rivers. Although water had been successfully redirected towards previously desert lands through long canals, big facilities that could regulate the flow of a river had been still out of the reach of contemporary abilities. Therefore, at the outbreak of WWII, while the Ferghana Valley had begun to develop a dense network of canals and was a focal centre of the entire Central Asian cotton growing, its surrounding foothills and slopes were still relegated to minor cultivations and pastures, and had received little attention by Soviet central planning263. The huge hydroelectric potential of those areas could not be exploited yet. The 1940s saw the arising of first concrete proposals of big reservoirs and dams on the transboundary watercourses. In the case of Ferghana Valley, the term refers to those streams originating in the mountain ranges surrounding the valley and flowing towards the Syr Darya, crossing the inter-republican borders established by the Soviet rulers during the NTD of 1920s and 1930s264. Although the idea of exploiting hydropower as a form of electricity production had been envisaged by the aforementioned GOELRO plan in early 1920s, the proposals of 1940s presented a different purpose. Indeed, the reservoirs would not be instruments of the energy industry, but an integral

263 Ilkhom Soliev, Kai Wegerich, Jusipbek Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing: Historical and Institutional Analysis of Shared Water Development in the Ferghana Valley, the Syr Darya Basin”, Water 7, no. 6 (2015), 2735-2736. 264 As explained in chapter 2, the National Territorial Delimitation was the process of border designing that aimed to reorganise former Turkestan in Republics, according to ethnic and economic features of the different areas. From 1924 to 1936, the Ferghana Valley was divided among three Socialist Soviet Republics: the Uzbek SSR (established in 1924), the Tajik SSR (1929) and the Kyrgyz SSR (1936, formerly Kyrgyz ASSR). See: Koichiev, “Ethno-Territorial Claims in the Ferghana Valley During the Process of National Delimitation, 1924-7”. 70 part of the irrigation system, with the function of enhancing water allocation’s effectiveness for agriculture, with hydropower being a by-product. That is why post-war period is of the uttermost importance for the purpose of this thesis. While the geographical configuration of the region naturally prompts theoretically unstable riparian relations, with upstream and downstream communities265, the materialisation of such conditions has ultimately been the outcome of certain Soviet policies. The ever growing expansion of cotton and irrigation, and the NTD, would have produced no effect on riparian relations, unless upstream countries were able to affect downstream ones by actually controlling rivers’ flow. Otherwise, their power would have remained on paper. The impetus given to reservoir building, and the relative water allocation pattern, added the missing pieces to the conflict-prone scenario that would arise after the independence. The analysis of this chapter will focus on the major transboundary reservoirs serving the Ferghana Valley, and how their planning and building processes have contributed to create inherent weaknesses in the system. Indeed, the latter was based on, and worked thanks to, a premise that would disappear after the collapse of the Union: a centralised economic strategy, imposed by a political hegemon, which was able to prevent or settle disputes through mediation or coercion. In that perspective, the elements of a potentially conflict pattern were neutralised. However, as it will be evident, especially regarding localised disputes, signs of conflict relations already showed up in Soviet time at local level, like minor river basins or single villages. Nonetheless, they were quiescent, as the ultimate intervention by Moscow always managed to prevent major escalations. In this sense, many of the features of the infrastructures and water allocation agreements arisen in this period could be considered as miscalculations, based on the reasonable conviction that a central and unitary management of the region would always be able to annul their destabilising effect. By examining the history of interstate agreements on infrastructure building and water allotment, the chapter tries to understand the raison d'être of certain patterns, why they were perfectly reasonable under Soviet rule and why, instead, would represent a threat to regional stability once Central Asian Republics would have gained independence.

265 As observed in chapter 1, the geographical pattern presenting the highest conflict potential is the upstream/downstream relation, which leaves one actor in an overwhelmingly superior position and the other in a situation of dependency. For a deeper analysis of the topic, see: Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 57, as cited in chapter 1 of the present thesis. 71

3.1. Cotton and Irrigation Expansion in Post-War Central Asia: The Premises For Reservoirs’ Development

In the field of agriculture, the aftermath of WWII marked the beginning of “over-ambitious” campaigns. Those efforts, which made massive use of chemicals, machines, and irrigation, in fact led to decreasing marginal productivity of the land. The growth in total outcome, which would be a constant until the dissolution of the Union, was, instead, the consequence of an extensive strategy, which tried to overcome the natural barriers, by rendering desert lands cultivable, managing the natural flow of rivers, or redrawing their course. This paragraph will display what was the agricultural, economic and cultural framework behind the launch of and constant support to the major reservoir projects, under the different administrations. The main goal of an ever increasing cotton growing, was complemented by a technological progress that made it possible to shift irrigation up to riverine flow control.

The war had left a wide range of economic legacies to the Ferghana Valley. The sudden industrialisation of Uzbekistan, due to the relocation of big factories from western fronts, considerably slowed down after they had been returned back. Nevertheless, some of those plants continued their activity and were developed during following decades. The overall percentage contribution of non-agricultural sectors to Uzbek and Ferghana Valley’s economy grew, albeit it remained below the all-Union average266. Overall, Soviet economic policy in Central Asia did not change after the war and cotton soon restored its leading role in regional economy. In order to overcome the hardships war had caused to agriculture, in terms of human lives losses and infrastructural damages, Stalin decided to turn back to pre-war policies. As a first step, collectivisation was reintroduced, peasants forced to join kolkhozy, and Gulag labourers and deported minorities were employed to boost cotton production. In the meanwhile, incentives were established for cotton growing. Procurement price was steadily increased, and by early 1950s cotton had become the only crop to be granted a full cost-recovery price, and even profits267. Tacit contract between Moscow and the Republics, envisaging adequate supplies and investments by the former in exchange for the complete fulfilment of State cotton demand by the latter, was restored. These interventions allowed a rapid

266 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 245. 267 Khan and Ghai, Collective Agriculture & Rural Development in Soviet Central Asia, 22-25. 72 recovery of Central Asian agriculture. Already in 1949, harvests overtook 1945 levels in many areas of the region, peaking in Turkmenistan, when results even doubled 1945 figures268. By the beginning of 1950s, in order to support the ever more demanding agricultural policies, Soviet planners had already undertaken a great plan of irrigation expansion, investing mainly in canal building. Besides the Great Ferghana Canal, two further crucial waterways of the Ferghana irrigation network were completed under Stalin. The South Ferghana Canal (93 km), as an extension of the Shakrikhansai, drew water from the Kara Darya, and later by the Andijan Reservoir, and irrigated the area surrounding the southern border of the valley, flowing into the Sokh river. The North Ferghana Canal (133 km) drew water from the Naryn and ran parallel on the North of the Syr Darya269. With the new system, most of the small transboundary tributaries (STTs) flowing from Kyrgyzstan into Uzbekistan intersected those canals, preventing peripheral areas from being dependent upon a single stream270. Thanks to that massive infrastructural development, the irrigated area of the Ferghana Valley had grown from 530,000 ha in 1930 to 650,000 in 1950271. However, canal irrigation could modify the geographical distribution of water, but not its seasonal or yearly rhythm. In this sense, the high variability of the Syr Darya272 heavily impacted on the regularity of agricultural cycles. Dry months during the growing season could have deadly effects on harvests and, consequently, on local economy. At least, a mechanism of short-term storage was needed, in order to accumulate water to be released during low-water months, and, in general, adapting discharges to crops’ seasonal requirements. Despite the realisation of minor reservoirs had already been carried out since the late XIXth century273, the discourse about their construction intensified after the war for different reasons. The continuous pressure on cotton production, which, as previously stated, required huge and timely deliveries of water, kept on urging irrigation’s expansion. Moreover, as reported in the previous chapter, the sudden incoming of people and factories during WWII had speeded up the

268 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 249. 269 Erika Weinthal, State Making and Environmental Cooperation: Linking Domestic and International Politics in Central Asia (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2002), 84. 270 Kai Wegerich, Ilkhom Soliev and Indire Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, Central Asian Survey 35, no.1 (2016): 38-60, 40. 271 Christine Bichsel, Kholnazar Mukhabbatov, Lenzi Sherfedinov, “Land, Water, and Ecology”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. Frederick S. Starr (Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 254. 272 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 228. 273 Hindukush and Sultanbet Reservoirs had been built in Turkmenistan in 1896 and 1910 respectively. See: Shavkat Rakhmatullaev, “Water reservoirs, irrigation and sedimentation in Central Asia: A first-cut assessment for Uzbekistan”, Environmental Earth Sciences 68, no. 4 (2013): 985-998, 987. 73 process of hydropower development. Finally, propaganda played a remarkable role. Indeed, in late 1940s, Stalin launched its “Great Plan for Transformation of Nature”, consolidating a developing rhetoric of nature manipulation, arising from the realisation of the huge canals like the BFK. Beyond ambitious ecological goals, the plan envisaged also the building of reservoirs274. The myth surrounding this great infrastructures, and their relative dams, produced an ad hoc term that evoked their magnitude: energo-gigant275. By the end of Stalinist period in 1953, different projects had already been launched, like the Kairakkum dam and the Kasansai Reservoir, and many other were in the early stages of planning. As an exception to de-Stalinisation, hydropower policy in Central Asia benefitted from a good degree of continuity under different administrations. For instance, in the case of the Toktogul Reservoir, better explained below, the proposal was presented under Stalin, negotiation and works began under Khrushchev, construction completed under Brezhnev, and the reservoir became fully operational under Gorbachev276. Such continuity was principally due to the persistent need to obtain more water to fuel cotton expansion. Despite a considerable breakthrough in agricultural policies compared to Stalin’s ones, irrigation remained an indispensable element for Khrushchev’s economic strategy in Central Asia. Indeed, while pressure on kolkhozy and price policies were softened277, a strategy of massive expansion of sown land was launched. This move represented a shift from intensive cultivation and higher yields, to extensive production and new fields278. The “Virgin Lands” programme279, launched in February 1954, thought primarily to improve grain and food production of the Union, indirectly favoured cotton growing too, and prompted the further specialisation of the region in cash cropping. However, the new pattern implied even higher irrigation requirements. In the Ferghana Valley, at first, the plan expanded

274 The formal name of the decree adopting the plan was “On the Plan for Field-Protective Afforestation, the Adoption of Grass-Field Crop Rotation, and the Construction of Ponds and Reservoirs to Ensure High and Stable Harvests in the Steppe and Forest-Steppe Regions of the European Part of the USSR”. See: Stephen Brain, “The Great Stalin Plan for the Transformation of Nature”, Environmental History 15, no. 4 (2010), 697. 275 Jeanne Féaux de la Croix, Iconic Places in Central Asia: The Moral Geography of Dams, Pastures and Holy Sites (Bielefeld: Universitat Tubingen, 2016), 95. 276 Sakal, “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, 10. 277 With Georgij M. Malenkov and Nikita Khrushchev, the increase of cotton’s procurement price was slowed down, in favour of other crops, in order to allow a recovery of food cropping. See: Khan and Ghai, Collective Agriculture & Rural Development in Soviet Central Asia, 31-32. 278 The stagnation of procurement prices led to decreasing yields and kolkhozy’s productivity, which now had to carry a high financial burden. See: Ibid. 279 The programme targeted 13 million hectares of underutilised lands suitable for ploughing up, mainly located in (eight provinces) and Western Siberian and South-western European Russia (thirteen provinces). See: Frank A. Durgin, Jr., “The Virgin Lands Programme 1954-1960”, Soviet Studies 13, no. 3 (1962): 255-280, 256-257. 74 sown land by 17,000 ha, and even upgraded to additional 25,000 ha in 1956280. Thus, the forecasted impact of reservoirs on a more rational use of water resources, and the huge benefits on irrigation, would play a decisive role in Khrushchev’s tactic, and new impetus was given to dam projecting. Moreover, the huge thrust towards modernisation and mechanisation made the construction of colossal infrastructures easier, and many old plans could now be technically realised. The shift from traditional methods and tools, to engineering projects and mechanical diggers was in line with the educational policies of Khrushchev, who favoured the training of a class of engineers and technical cadres that set up the new irrigation pattern of the region281. Late 1950s and early 1960s were the years of the launch of the most important proposals. Negotiations for Toktogul and Andijan Reservoirs started as regarded the Naryn and the Kara Darya, directly affecting the waters of the Syr Darya’s main stem. As for the STTs, talks about the regulation of the Isfara river (through the Tortgul Reservoir), the Isfayramsai (through the Karkidon Reservoir), and the Sokh river (through what will be called the Sokh reservoir) were initiated. This period was crucial for subsequent evolutions, producing a high number of documents and agreements that would set up a dangerously confused framework for post-independence water management. Although in its Plenum of March 1965, the Communist Party decreed to put an end to Khrushchev’s experiments in agriculture and irrigation, Brezhnev’s announced changes282 did not concern a rationalisation of the water usage. Minor efforts to improve water management were carried out. Mechanisms of control arose within the Uzbek Ministry of Water Management during the 1960s (“administrations of irrigation systems”, “administrations of melioration systems”). Nevertheless, low enforcement at local level and confused allocation of tasks among officials, led to almost anarchical exploitation of the resources, with people withdrawing more than their acknowledged quotas and building their own infrastructures (small dams, run-offs)283. The focus of Brezhnev’s agricultural policy continued to be cotton expansion. Procurement price increases were restored during the 1960s, mechanisation further fostered, and, above all, sown land massively extended284. Water “fuel” for agriculture passed through the essential regulating function of the reservoirs. Brezhnev inherited many ongoing projects, but under his rule a great

280 Nazarov, Shozimov, “The Ferghana Valley in the Eras of Khrushchev and Brezhnev”, 150. 281 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 339-355. 282 Alec Nove, “Soviet Agriculture under Brezhnev”, Slavic Review 29, no. 3 (1970): 379-410, 386-388. 283 Obertreis, Imperial Desert Dreams, 330, 359-360. 284 Khan and Ghai, Collective Agriculture & Rural Development in Soviet Central Asia, 31-32; Nove, “Soviet Agriculture under Brezhnev”, 402; Martin McCauley, Khrushchev and the Development of Soviet Agriculture (London: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 1976), 210. 75 pressure was put on their activity and, as a consequence, on rivers’ waters. Besides the aforementioned irrational behaviours by users, one of the elements that required to resort to excessive water withdrawals was the inefficiency of the transmission infrastructures. Due to scarce maintenance, in mid-1960s, in the whole Soviet Central Asia, two thirds of the water diverted for irrigation were lost in seepage and percolation285. This, on the one hand, led to use more water than the actually needed amount; on the other hand, it created an increasing and serious problem of soil salinisation, which in turn drastically reduced land productivity, encouraging extensive rather than intensive cultivation. While the bulk of the infrastructural network of reservoir irrigation had been either built or planned under Khrushchev, Brezhnev’s era was characterised b y an intense activity of water diplomacy. Most of the agreements over water allocation and reservoir operational modes took place from late 1960s to early 1980s, contributing to shape the regional water management system. In order to clearly understand the rationale of the latter’s development up to the collapse of the Union, an analysis of the processes of negotiation over the construction of reservoirs and subsequent water allotment is fundamental. Indeed, a range of elements will be displayed through it: the primordial origins of future disputes over single basins; the setting up of an interconnected system, whose good working was tightly linked to an integrated management of the region; the essential role of Moscow, both in negotiation and dispute settlement stages; the underlying reasons of the unbalanced water allocation during Soviet times, and the origins of an upstream “resentment”. Such analysis would be carried out through the examination of brief case studies, where the mechanisms of negotiation and compromise among the Republics, and the supervision of Moscow, appear more clearly.

3.2. Cotton Above All: The Birth and Development of the Imbalanced Water Allocation on Transboundary Watercourses

The construction of reservoirs was a turning point in the history of Central Asian water management, since it introduced a decisive element in relations between upstream and downstream countries: the ability to control rivers’ flow. As asserted above, and as it will be explained in details in chapter 4, it would be a crucial factor in interstate disputes after the

285 Lewis, “The Irrigation Potential of Soviet Central Asia”, 104. 76 independence. However, it already produced remarkable effects on inter-republican interactions during the Soviet period. The general economic pattern of the region had not changed. Rather, stress on cotton as the principal output of local economies had progressively increased, and would grow even more until 1980s. As a consequence, water must continue to serve primarily downstream cotton fields. While until 1950s and 1960s upstream communities had had limited possibilities to hamper that pattern and divert considerable percentages of riverine flows, the realisation of reservoirs exposed current scheme to a serious risk. Indeed, in order to effectively perform their functions and control discharges before it reached the irrigated lands, reservoirs were to be located upstream. In the case of Ferghana Valley, such location coincided with the outskirts of the valley itself, just outside the plain where the bulk of the agriculture was concentrated. Thus, most of the area designed to host the infrastructures lied within Kyrgyz borders, as established by the NTD, while the main beneficiary of their action was the Uzbek sown lands in the valley. In this way, theoretically, Kyrgyzstan could now withhold exceeding quotas of the streams controlled by the reservoirs, thus having a great power on the entire Central Asian economy. Increasing frictions among the Republics, especially at local level, and some cases of retaliations by Kyrgyzstan, like in the Isfara basin, led to a proliferation of inter-republican deals, up to the major agreements of 1980 and 1984, examined below. As a fil rouge of the negotiations that accompanied the establishment of the new infrastructural and allocation system, Moscow’s ultimate power over the principal decisions results as the pivotal variable in the following analysis. The case studies of Kasansai, Toktogul, Andijan, Karkidon and Tortgul, will display how the cotton- centric logic imposed by the central government distorted the negotiation processes and the final water allocation scheme, creating paradoxical situations that overtly penalised Kyrgyzstan vis-à-vis its downstream riparian neighbour.

3.2.1. The Kasansai Reservoir

As early as in 1930s, Soviet authorities had planned to regulate the flow of the Kasansai, flowing from the Chatkal mountains in Kyrgyz Jalalabad into Uzbek Namangan province. The reservoir, situated in Kyrgyz territory and with a capacity of 165 million m3, would primarily benefit the irrigated lands in the Uzbek part of the valley. Therefore, the works would be largely financed by Uzbek resources and carried out under the responsibility of the Uzbek authorities, which would

77 own the reservoir as well286. In 1941, construction began and the Kyrgyz SSR, under the pressure of Moscow, was obliged to cede 660 hectares of suitable land to the project, receiving no compensation in exchange. The infrastructure was completed in 1954. Since then, Uzbekistan was tasked with operation and maintenance287. By the time of completion, Kyrgyz SSR had been deprived of a considerable portion of land for the construction of a facility it could not control and that would improve Uzbek agriculture. Such move would serve the ultimate and persistent economic interests of the Union in Central Asia, namely an enhanced cotton production. A second phase of the negotiations took place in 1967, when the Uzbek SSR planned an enlargement of the reservoir in order to increase its storage. In the meanwhile, many other agreements had been concluded on the realisation of transboundary reservoirs, and a gradual trend towards a higher power by the Republics in bargaining had been emerged. While under Stalin, share and cost allocation was almost totally imposed by Moscow, leaving to the national officials a nominal autonomy in decision-making288, with the first negotiations of the Khrushchev’s era an embryonic form of genuine negotiation arose. Realistic compensation began to be included in the deals, and Kyrgyz demands for more equitable schemes were partially accepted. In its “Resolution on Land Allocation for State and Community Needs”, Kyrgyz SSR Cabinet allocated 190 ha of lands, requesting compensation of the same value. When the enlargement was finished in 1972, land compensation from the Uzbek SSR was completed, and a new border demarcation in the surrounding area was finalised289. The reservoir continued to be operated by Uzbekistan, according to its downstream irrigation needs. Kyrgyz SSR was de facto excluded from its management and benefits.

3.2.2. The Toktogul and Andijan Reservoirs

The designing of the the Toktogul Reservoir was called for by the extensive programme of irrigation laid out by the central Soviet authorities as a support to the demanding cotton production targets. For the Syr Darya basin, three goals were fixed: 2.1 million ha had to be irrigated by 1960, 4.1 million by 1980 and 6.4 million in the longer-term. However, the fulfilment

286 The principle according to which who benefitted the most from a certain infrastructure, was in charge of funding and managing it, was a leading criterion for the allocation of the ownership of the reservoirs, irrespective of their geographical belonging. This guaranteed the control of the facility by the actual user, but created ambiguity over the property rights, as analysed in chapter 4. 287 Mariya Pak, and Kai Wegerich, “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley: Soviet Negotiations on Transboundary Small Reservoir Construction”, Central Asian Affairs 1, no. 2 (2014), 234. 288 Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2735. 289 Pak, Wegerich, “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley”, 234-235. 78 of those targets had still to rely largely on the natural and highly variable flow of the rivers. Indeed, by the end of 1950s, in the Syr Darya basin there were three hydraulic systems available: the Kairakkum Reservoir with a storage capacity of 2.6 km3, and the Farkhad and Kyzylorda Hydraulic Systems. Construction of the Char Darya Hydraulic System was under completion, with a reservoir effective storage capacity of 4.7 km3. However, the river still lacked major flow-control infrastructures upstream, and the Ferghana Valley’s irrigation depended on the nature of the river municipal flow, enduring significant fluctuations due to sudden low-water years290. That led to project the Toktogul multi-year reservoir, capable of accumulating as much water as to ensure a firm annual yield, regardless of the river’s volatility. The colossal plant envisaged a maximum capacity of 19.5 km3 and an active storage of 14 km3 291. It would be located on the Naryn River, the largest of the two rivers forming the Syr Darya. It has an annual average flow rate of 13.8 km3, which concentrates (up to 80%) in the growing season, peaking in June and July, when an average of 40% of the flow reaches the Syr Darya292. According to the studies of the designing institute, the Central Asian State Research Institute of Water and Cotton (Sredazgiprovodkhlopok), the reservoir would be able to guarantee an increase of 4.5 km3 in the firm water resources of middle and lower reaches of the basin, that was a 30% more than the amount ensured by the natural flow. The beneficiary area would include 800,000 ha of existing irrigated lands and 480,000 ha of new lands293. The huge benefits that the project would bring downstream, would require a comparably lower sacrifice upstream. Specifically, the reservoir would flood 26,000 ha in the Kementub Valley, 21,200 of which were agricultural land, causing the resettlement of 26 communities and the interruption of the main regional driving route294. The focal point was again the uneven distribution of costs and benefits. If the overall proportion of expected positive and negative impacts, on agriculture and settlements respectively, was overwhelmingly in favour of the former, they were concentrated in the Uzbek territories only, while the latter were endured entirely by Kyrgyz SSR. Nevertheless, Toktogul was among the first projects envisaging a compensation for the

290 Elena Antipova, Alexi Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, in Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions, Technical Report 00-06-W, ed. D.C. McKinney and A.K. Kenshimov, for the Environmental Policies and Institutions for Central Asia (EPIC) Program (Almaty: US Agency for International Development, 2000), 48. 291 Elena Antipova, Alexi Zyryanov, Daene McKinney, Andre Savitsky, “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, Water International 27, no. 4 (2002): 504-516, 505-506. 292 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 49. 293 Ibid., 50. 294 Daniela Del Bene, “, Kyrgyzstan”, Environmental Justice Atlas (Last update 28-11-2016), available at https://ejatlas.org/conflict/toktogul-dam-kyrgyzistan. 79 upstream Republic. Such compensation would consist of a permission to irrigate certain lands that had to be conceded by the central government. As early as in 1961, Moscow proposed to compensate the Kyrgyz SSR with the right to expand its irrigated lands by 15,000 ha in the Burgandif Massif295. Such expansion would be made possible by the regulation of the Sokh STT, through the construction of a reservoir on its course296. This issue tightly linked Toktogul and Andijan Reservoir negotiations, which started in 1962. The latter project was proposed by the Uzbek authorities as a means to enhance irrigation in the Kara Darya basin, which would benefit also Kyrgyz lands. The Kara Darya merges with the Naryn into the Syr Darya and has an annual average flow of 3.9 km3. The reservoir would have a total capacity of 1.9 km3, with an active storage of 1.75 km3, covering almost 5,800 ha of land297. As in the case of Toktogul, non-monetary and monetary compensation for the relocation of the population was envisaged by the agreement. Non-monetary one comprised the already accepted lands in the Burgandy Massif, and the reiteration of the necessary Sokh Reservoir project to irrigate them. In addition, Kyrgyz SSR advanced new requests. The aforementioned area should be expanded by 8,000 ha, and it would made be possible by a new canal: the Left Shore Kampyr-Ravat Canal (LSKR)298. In a Protocol of 1965, at the end of the negotiations, more details arose. The canal would draw water directly from the Andijan Reservoir and irrigate both the Burgandy Massif and 15,900 ha of Uzbek lands299. Uzbekistan had to bear all the costs of construction of the two reservoirs (Andijan and the planned Sokh) and of the LSKR, while Kyrgyz SSR would build a second canal on the right bank of the Andijan reservoir, the Right Shore Kampyr-Ravat Canal (RSKR). The

295 The area extends from the right bank of the Sokh STT to the present-day town of Kyrgyz-Kyshtak. See: Ilkhom Soliev et al., “Dealing with “Baggage” in Riparian Relationship on Water Allocation: A Longitudinal Comparative Study from the Ferghana Valley”, Ecological Economics 142 (2017), “Fig. A1. Irrigation expansion in the Burgandy massif, upstream of the Sokh River in 1977, 2000, and 2014”. The Burgandy Massif was the subject of a border crisis in 1958. In 1955, Uzbek and Kyrgyz SSR set up a joint commission to solving some territorial disputes in the present-day Batken province. On the basis on limited archival material from 1924-1927, the commission allocated 70,000 ha of lands in northern Sokh and in the Burgandy Massif to the Kyrgyz SSR. Both the Republican and the all-Union Supreme Soviets had to ratify the validity of the document. Uzbek SSR rejected the findings upon Sokh, rendering the entire agreement void. In April 1958, Kyrgyz claimed jurisdiction over northern Sokh’s oil and gas deposits, but Uzbek denied it. Although the USSR Presidium of the Council of Ministers intervened in favour of the Kyrgyz, the agreement still lacked validity, since it had not been accepted by all the parties. In March 1961, Kyrgyz SSR unilaterally ratified the accord, but borders were undefined in fact. See: Nazarov, Shozimov, “The Ferghana Valley in the Eras of Khrushchev and Brezhnev”, 143-144. 296 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 41-42. 297 CAWATER, “Reservoirs in Uzbekistan”, Knowledge Base, available at http://www.cawater-info.net/bk/1-1-1-1-3- uz_e.htm. 298 Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2738. 299 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 42. 80 construction began before Moscow’s approval of the agreement. In 1969, the USSR Water Resources Ministry rejected the original plan and demanded the exclusion of monetary compensation for resettlement and the construction of the LSKR. A modified project was presented by the Uzbek SSR and approved in October 1969, but Kyrgyz SSR was informed only in November 1969300. Burgandy Massif’s lands had already started to be developed and prepared for cultivation, on the basis of both Toktogul and Andijan negotiations, and claims over the realisation of Sokh Reservoir and LSKR became a constant in Kyrgyz complaints over the following years301. Kyrgyz SSR endured a heavy economic damage, since, in this way, it had to renounce compensation for Toktogul’s lands and lost investments in the Burgandy Massif. However, such a serious violation of contractual terms did not bring to escalation of tensions. Kyrgyz government was not in the position to impose its will for three reasons:  It was not in control of any strategic facility that could actually cut off water to Uzbekistan and force it to renegotiate;  It was economically less relevant than its neighbour in Moscow’s plans;  The ultimate authority was exerted by Moscow. Nevertheless, a trend towards an increasing role of the Republics in regional water politics was consolidating. In 1970 The Ministry of Water Resources and the Ministry of Agriculture of the USSR introduced 15-year plans for irrigation expansion, which allowed the Republics to present their own projects of irrigation expansion within their acknowledged share of water. In the same year, detailed schemes of the use of water resources were introduced for major river basins. In 1973, the Gosplan adopted the relative resolution for the Syr Darya basin, allowing Kyrgyz SSR to expand its irrigated land by a minimum of 60,000 and a maximum of 90,000 ha, including 49,000 ha in the Ferghana Valley. For Kyrgyz SSR, it was the opportunity to claim more resolutely the fulfilment of the agreed compensation. Actually, it went further, and raised its pretences, as a kind of challenge against the unbalanced status quo. The upstream Republic presented projects of irrigation expansion covering 137,260 ha, 66,260 of which exploiting shared resources, like the Sokh and Aravansai STTs and the Right and Left Shore Kampyr-Ravat Canals. In 1974, it asked Moscow for its lent pasturelands to be returned, and requested to be connected to gas pipelines, for an annual supply of 0.5 billion m3 302.

300 Pak, Wegerich, “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley”, 240. 301 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 43. 302 Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2739. 81

In an attempt to find a common ground, central government advanced its proposal to settle the dispute, although it seemed a pro forma mediation. In 1976, Moscow provided the Kyrgyz SSR with additional funds for the Toktogul Reservoir compensation, but the agreed non-monetary one was further delayed. While Toktogul and Andijan facilities were completed in 1974 and 1978 respectively, neither the Sokh Reservoir had been initiated nor the LSKR approved yet303. Nevertheless, within the limits of Moscow’s scarce tolerance of this kind of disputes, Kyrgyz SSR began to claim its compensation by force, unveiling early signs of the system’s weaknesses. Since 1979, Kyrgyz SSR started withdrawing unilaterally increasing shares of water from the Sokh and the Isfara STTs, diverting it to the Burgandy Massif and the Tortgul Reservoir respectively. This caused shortages downstream, and the Uzbek Ferghana province had to be exceptionally supplied by the Andijan province. As soon as the upstream actor took control of one major infrastructure, like the Tortgul was for the Isfara basin, an institutional dispute occurred. This event revealed three aspects that could undermine the economic scheme: 1. The actual control of facilities that could cause a concrete damage downstream dramatically increased the relative power of the upstream actor vis-à-vis Uzbekistan, putting at risk the smooth enforcement of allocation scheme that favoured the latter; 2. The highly interconnectedness of the agreements rendered the system further unstable. Indeed, the practice of promising new projects as a compensation for the reservoirs under construction, or conceding to irrigate lands in different basin than the one under negotiation, made several deals depending on each other. As a consequence, as in the case of Toktogul/Andijan and Tortgul, defections in one accord could trigger retaliations on another one, prompting a dangerous situation of legal uncertainty. 3. Although various cases of local water-induced disputes, even violent ones, had already occurred, a concrete manifestation of inter-republican competition over the hydric resources showed up. However, this competition was still limited to irrigation matters, not involving energy ones. The highly complex matter of Toktogul and Andijan clearly shows what this chapter aims to demonstrate, namely the essential role of the central government in preventing disputes arising from structural weaknesses of the system. A pattern that let huge expropriations without compensation against one of its Republics, could work, to a large extent, only through heavy

303 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 43. 82 pressure from above. This pressure was maximum in the Syr Darya’s main stem, where the strategic importance of the watercourse drew most of the attention by Moscow, which overtly favoured downstream interests more than in other cases. On the contrary, the smaller was the basin, the lower was the pressure exerted on Kyrgyzstan. Nevertheless, the turning point was the construction of the Tortgul Reservoir, which clearly revealed the real danger of the current scheme. Kyrgyz SSR, despite a subordinate economic and political position vis-à-vis downstream neighbour, could get a great power if in control of water facilities. Although it went partially out of the central government’s control during the 1970s, the direct intervention by the latter in prompting inter-republican agreements and barely imposing water allocation to the countries was decisive.

3.2.3. The Tortgul Reservoir

The Isfara basin lies in the south-western area of the Ferghana Valley. The river originates in the glaciers of the , in Kyrgyzstan, and is about 102 km long, while its basin covers an area of 3,240 km2 304. As explained above, it runs through the Tajik enclave of Vorukh, before crossing borders with Kyrgyzstan, re-entering Tajikistan and finally reaching Uzbekistan. As it will be analysed in chapter 4, the basin was the subject of numerous agreements among its riparian States. Indeed, the complex combination of hydrology and boundaries rendered water diplomacy more delicate compared to most of the other STTs of the valley, shared between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan only. Nevertheless, before 1960s, discussions had primarily involved downstream Tajikistan and Uzbekistan, which were locked in a situation of reciprocal resource control, where the former was in an upstream position on the Isfara river, while in a downstream one on the BFK. Water allocation in this basin had already been agreed upon in 1946. However, after changing irrigation requirements, due to the expansion of the BFK (1953-1962) and the ever developing agriculture of the valley, a new agreement was needed. In 1958, representatives from the Tajik, Kyrgyz and Uzbek SSRs gathered in order to negotiate the allocation of the Isfara river water. The resulting Protocol decision, adopted in April, envisaged 2% of the river’s water being available to Kyrgyz SSR, 57% to Tajik SSR and 41% to Uzbek SSR305. The Kyrgyz SSR was again relegated to a marginal role in the basin of a river originating on its territory. On this basis, a first project of a

304 Transboundary Water Management in Central Asia Programme, Isfara River Basin Plan: , Kyrgyz Republic (Bishkek: Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit, 2014), 5. 305 Pak, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia”, 235. 83 regulating facility was discussed in the late 1950s. The Tortgul Reservoir, with a capacity of 90 million m3, was to be built on the border between present-day Kyrgyz Batken district and Tajik . The project was proposed and approved in 1962 by the Cabinet of the Kyrgyz SSR, which would carried out the works. Among the structures that had been built or were being discussed by far, this represented a novelty. Indeed, as reported above, Kasansai and Andijan Reservoir had been financed and owned by Uzbek SSR, while Toktogul by Union’s funds. For the first time, Kyrgyz could now control a considerable part of the flow of an important STT in the valley. However, no agreement had been concluded on new water allocation after the completion of the reservoir, and thus, theoretically, Protocol 1958 should still be followed. A crucial step for subsequent events and, in particular, for the empowerment of Kyrgyz SSR in regional water affairs, was 1967. Indeed, during the construction of the structure, new costs arose, and an adjustment of the plan became necessary. In 1967, Kyrgyz government and the Central Committee of the CPSU, together with the respective ministers of water resources, met in Moscow and decided for a revised project. They noted the absence of any deal for future revision of water shares, and agreed that the Kyrgyz SSR would continue the construction on its own, and would utilise the free flow of the river. That meant that it could exploit the territorial waters as much as it was technically able to do. While before the construction of the Tortgul, upstream diversion relied on minor canals and ditches, and made it difficult to exceed the agreed quota of 2%, the reservoir dramatically changed the situation. A new de facto allocation of water would increase Kyrgyz share from 2% to 26.7%, once the reservoir was completed306. The Soviet Water Planning Institute (Giprovodhoz) and the Kyrgyz counterpart worked on the new plan, presented in 1968 and approved by the USSR Ministry of Water Resources in 1969. Nevertheless, in this form, the agreement totally disregarded the content of 1958 Protocol and was not approved by Tajik and Uzbek SSR. The project was finished in 1971, began accumulating water in 1972 and was operational in 1975. In this period, anarchy in water withdrawing began. As stated above, in order to compensate the contractual violations in the Toktogul and Andijan deals, Kyrgyzstan started storing increasing amounts of water in its reservoir, affecting downstream Tajik and Uzbek provinces, which had to resort to pump stations. The confused regime of the Isfara basin was finally discussed in April 1980, when an all-encompassing meeting on transboundary tributaries of the Ferghana Valley was held in Moscow between the USSR Ministry of Water Resources and representatives of the Kyrgyz and

306 Pak, Wegerich, “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley”, 235-236. 84

Uzbek SSRs. Protocol 1980 and the subsequent events among the Isfara riparians will be further analysed in next paragraph and chapter respectively. While on the most strategic projects, Kyrgyz government was losing the struggle for water allocation, the Tortgul Reservoir was a remarkable example of how relevant controlling water resources could be in riparian relations, irrespective of the relative economic powers. This was possible because the Isfara was not as pivotal as the Naryn/Kara Darya basins were for Moscow’s economic interests. Thus, Kyrgyz authorities could exert a higher degree of autonomy compared to the Toktogul and Andijan cases, and soon exploited it. Nonetheless, despite the observed trend towards autonomy, Moscow maintained its sound role of hegemon and was highly involved in dispute settlements, acting as mediator and preventing further harmful escalations. After the frictions of 1970s, from the undelivered compensations for Toktogul and Andijan, to the retaliation on Isfara and Sokh river by Kyrgyz SSR, a return to diplomacy happened in 1980. This attempt, prompted and mediated by the central administration, dealt with the long-standing issue of water allocation in the STTs. Few years later, a second document arranged the water scheme on the main stem of Syr Darya: Protocol 1984.

3.2.4. Protocol 1980 and 1984: Paving the Way for Post-Independence Disputes

Those two agreements are fundamental steps in the analysis of water conflict in the Ferghana Valley. In previous chapters and paragraphs, the geographical, infrastructural and border paradoxical features of the region have been presented. The inherent potential weaknesses of the resulting system, fostered by Tsarist and, mainly, Soviet policies, were later made concrete by the development of the reservoir projects, which delivered to Kyrgyz SSR the means to put at actual risk downstream economy. However, previous paragraphs and case studies have demonstrated how such risk was kept under control by the invasive interventionism by central government, which thus impeded major escalations that would have harmed its own economic interests. The status quo began to be threatened in the 1970s, when the first disputes and retaliations affected water allocation in southern basins. This led to the necessity of providing a clear legal framework to transboundary water management. Moscow restored its central role and two major protocols were issued in 1980 and 1984 to establish clear water allocation on the principal basins of the valley. The former, in which central authorities acted as mediators, would regulate the STTs. The

85 latter, that Union’s government defined on its own, after simple consultations with the Republics, concerned Syr Darya’s main stem and the functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir.

Protocol 1980: The STTs

In 1980, the Sredazgiprovodkhlopok developed an all-encompassing document regulating transboundary streams and infrastructures: the Protocol of the Inter-republican Allocation of Runoff of the Small Rivers in the Ferghana Valley of 10 April 1980. Among its provisions, new water shares were envisaged on twelve STTs. In particular, Uzbek SSR was granted the bulk of many of the STTs flowing into Ferghana province (73% of the Shakhimardansai, 70% of the Isfayramsai, 90% of the Sokh) and 92% of the Kasansai, while STTs crossing Osh-Andijan border were predominantly allocated to Kyrgyz SSR (which received 82% of the Akburasai and 77% of the Aravansai)307. As explained above, the Isfara was included in the agreement as well. Totally reversing the previous Protocol of 1958, and going beyond the factual allocation triggered by the construction of the Tortgul Reservoir, the deal assigned 55% to Tajik SSR, 37% to Kyrgyz SSR and 8% to Uzbek SSR308. Nevertheless, the significance of Protocol 1980 was not about the single shares. Kyrgyz SSR was dissatisfied with many of the outcomes and formally contested some of them309. In many cases, quotas were renegotiated in separate deals. For instance, a new meeting on the Isfara river was held as early as 12 June 1980, involving Tajikistan as well, and again modified the figures310, as reported in chapter 4. In fact, the Protocol foresaw that the Ministries of Water Resources of the involved Republics would jointly draft decadal allocation of water on an annual basis, to be implemented by the provinces. In this context, Ferghana and Osh province Water Management Departments (WMD) signed an agreement, including the construction of the Sokh Reservoir, which was subsequently initiated, and LSKR, as well as slightly different water allocation for the Karkidon Reservoir and for the Isfayramsai, Shakhimardansai, Sokh and Isfara311. Therefore, the importance of Protocol 1980 was represented by the decision to formally draft a

307 Sogd Province Water Management Department, “Protocol of the inter-republican meeting on the inter-republican water allocation in the small rivers of the Ferghana Valley” (11 April 1980), as cited in Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 44-47. 308 Wegerich et al., “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, 535. 309 The designing institute responded that the main principle in use in water allocation at that time, namely the proportional principle, had been followed, and water had been assigned on the basis of actual need. In 1981, Kyrgyz SSR again questioned 7 out of the 9 regulated cases, 5 of which had already been implemented. See: Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2740. 310 Pak, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia”, 235. 311 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 47. 86 document that would establish clear quotas for all the rivers of the valley shared between Kyrgyz and Uzbek SSR. This arose as a necessity after the upstream country had acquired the instruments to claim higher shares. With the possibility to block rivers’ flow, water could no longer be taken for granted downstream, at least not in the customary or agreed shares it had used to be discharged.

Protocol 1984 and BWOs: The Syr Darya

Different conditions and reasons called for the adoption of a regulation on the use of Syr Darya’s water. Although an ecological issue regarding the excessive and irrational usage of hydric resources in the whole Aral Sea Basin had already emerged in academic and political environments since the 1960s, by early 1980s the availability of water in the Syr Darya basin specifically reached critical levels, also due to a severe drought312. Yearly or monthly water shortages urged a rationalisation of the usage of Syr Darya’s resources. Therefore, the Union’s Ministry of Water Resources (Minvodkhoz), based on forecasts by the Central Asia Gidromet Service, issued a scheme for geographical and seasonal allocation of riverine water discharges. On 7 February 1984, Protocol no. 413 was adopted. It allocated the 22.7 km3 of total surface flow of the river as follows: 10.4 km3 or 46% to Uzbekistan, 10 km3 or 44% to Kazakhstan, 1.8 km3 or 8% to Tajikistan, and 0.4 km3 or 2% to Kyrgyzstan313. The new scheme aimed at keeping the withdrawals sustainable, thus preserving a sufficient and firm amount of water for irrigation in the growing season. As evident by the percentages, the guiding criterion was favouring regional agriculture, especially cotton cropping. In order to respect the proposed pattern, the Protocol envisaged a second and fundamental provision, namely the regulation of the Toktogul Reservoir. The reservoir, which had never been filled since its opening, nor had managed to accumulate more than 5-6 km3 314, would be function according to the so-called irrigation mode, namely adapting discharges to monthly irrigation requirements. In particular, total annual releases would be of 9.43 km3, with

312 By mid-70s, the Syr Darya basin was approaching basin closure, namely the condition in which all its water resources have been put to use for part or all of the year. This started causing some cases of water deficiency in low- water years. The basin closure, the diversion of many rivers and the retention of increasing amounts of waters, produced dramatic effects on the Aral Sea, by reducing its natural refilling. From 1960, the fourth largest inland water body in the world began accumulating annual deficit, defined as the difference between total inflows and net evaporation in a year, up to an average of 30 km3 per year from 1970. See: Vladimir Smakhtin, “Basin Closure and Environmental Flow Requirements”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 24, no. 2 (2008), 227; M. Kh. Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, in Water and Food Security in Central Asia, ed. C. Madramootoo and V. Dukhovny (Dordrecht: Springer, 2011), 85; Philip P. Micklin, “The Aral Sea Crisis and Its Future: An Assessment in 2006”, Eurasian Geography and Economics 47, no. 5 (2006): 546- 567, 548-549. 313 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 230-231; World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia: Improving Regional Cooperation in the Syr Darya Basin (Washington DC: World Bank, 2004), 8. 314 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 51. 87

75% concentrated in the growing season, from April to September, and 25% in the winter months, with a maximum average discharge of 180 m3/s315. This pattern left unresolved the controversial issue of energy production. The complex, which included a hydroelectric production plant, had a rated capacity of power generation of 1,200 MW. However, the irrigation mode would concentrate the bulk of discharges in a period of scarce energy demand, especially in the host country of the structure. However, the HPP was connected to a common energy management body, the Central Asian Energy Pool (CAEP), by high-voltage power transmission lines of 500 kV. Therefore, the largely surplus electricity produced in summertime would be transferred to that grid and redistributed equally among the countries316. In exchange, Kyrgyzstan was guaranteed by the same pool a sufficient amount of low cost or free fossil energy, supplied by downstream Republics, for its winter demand, including the functioning of its thermal and hydroelectric power plants as well317. This decision played a fundamental role in setting the stage for 1990s disputes. Indeed, this agreement presented unique features, compared to the other deals analysed above, that made it particularly prone to violations. First, unlike the Kasansai, Toktogul was not owned nor operated by Uzbekistan, which, thus, had not the physical ability to enforce protocol’s provisions. Second, the Toktogul represented an overwhelmingly more valuable resource for all the riparians, than all the other STTs’ reservoirs did. In particular for downstream Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, it was vital for their cotton agricultural sector, and, thus, for their national economy, while for Kyrgyzstan it could have been a precious pillar of the energy industry. Nevertheless, as observed above, the hydropower potential had been subordinated to irrigation needs, and Kyrgyz SSR had still to rely on foreign energy resources for the critical winter months. Therefore, at the current conditions, Kyrgyz had little incentives to comply. At the same time, the great cost the country had had to bear in terms of population resettlements and cultivable lands flooded, still lacked any adequate compensation: the agreed Sokh Reservoir was under intermittent construction, while the promised LSKR had never been formally approved. The irrigation expansion in the Burgandy Massif had been practically realised through Kyrgyz retaliations. Only some minor monetary compensation had been conceded by Moscow. With such premises, central government’s authority appeared as the only element that could guarantee a smooth implementation of the accord and prevent contestations on the upstream side.

315 World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia, 8. 316 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 50. 317 Thomas Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, Journal of Peace Research 49, no. 1 (2012), 230-231. 88

In the meanwhile, new solutions for a better management of the basin arose. From 1986, the administration started to decentralise water management and transferred some operational tasks to basin-wide bodies, the Basin Water Organisations (BWOs). The irrigation network of the Ferghana Valley was under the Syr Darya BWO318. More effective systems of control over the Syr Darya’s flow, the Automated Control Complexes, were installed in Ferghana Valley and put under the responsibility of the Syr Darya Water Administration in 1987, although it could not directly manage the structures319. In 1988, a special decree of the USSR government transferred all the reservoirs and water facilities with a carrying capacity of 10 m3/s or more under the BWOs. Moreover, they were in charge of modifying up to 10% of the inter-republican water share due to operational issues320. The new organisation brought some benefits in terms of water losses and accuracy in monitoring. However, the end of the 1980s was characterised by an increasingly fragmented management of water resources and their related inter-republican disputes, and this led to a natural decrease in the importance of such organisations. Although the shift to a basin-specific body should enhance the rational managing of the river, the lack of enforcing capacity never gave it the necessary authority to ensure compliance to the agreements. As analysed in chapter 4, this problem would arise especially after the independence, when they would lose most of their significance. Nevertheless, with the weakening of Moscow’s grip on regional affairs in the last years before the dissolution of the Union, the first signs of unilateralism appeared even in the Syr Darya basin, which had always been under strict control by the central government. Indeed, the Toktogul Reservoir reached full efficiency only in August 1988, due to complete filling, and could finally start operating according to Protocol no. 413. However, already in 1989/1990, mean monthly releases progressively grew, especially in winter months321. In 1989-1990, the reservoir released 3.9 km3 in the non-growing season, compared to the limit of 2.85 km3 established in 1984322.

Conclusion

The will to “transform the nature”, strongly developing in late 1940s, eventually ended in major disasters, like the shrinking of the Aral Sea, which in turn had a terrible backlash on the economy

318 K.L. Valentini, E.E. Orolbaev, and A.K. Abylgazieva, Water Problems of Central Asia (Bishkek: International Strategic Institute Under the President of the Kyrgyz Republic, 2004), 53. 319 Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, 85. 320 Valentini, Orolbaev, Abylgazieva, Water Problems of Central Asia, 54. 321 Ibid. 322 Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, 87. 89 and politics of the “cotton suppliers” of the USSR, especially the Uzbek SSR. The hectic attempt to bend nature to irrigation needs opened the way to the construction of gigantic infrastructures that controlled the riverine rhythms, sheltering agriculture from seasonal or yearly volatility. The impact of reservoirs was particularly relevant in the Ferghana Valley, where the geographic features, combined with the legacy of 1920s NTD, set the stage for a major international enigma after 1991. Indeed, the exchange pattern outlined and fostered by Moscow subordinated Republican interests to the Union’s driving need of cotton and irrigation expansion. It became increasingly incompatible with the arising of national self-consciousness, leaving the side open to unilateral actions. Despite such behaviours actually happened in different cases even under the Soviet rule, the progressive weakening mediating or coercive role of Moscow rendered the regional water management a delicate diplomatic affair. In particular, such trend could be observed since the 1960s, when the direct involvement and weight of the Republics in the processes of negotiation started to progressively increase. Such evolution coincided with an increase in the equity of the resulting agreements, with the acknowledgment of monetary and non-monetary compensation to the Kyrgyz SSR. However, in absolute terms, the deals remained far from being balanced. The huge benefits that reservoirs had on irrigation were naturally concentrated in the Uzbek lands, while the upstream country had to bear all the non-monetary costs, receiving often non adequate compensations. Since the financial resources for the construction of the facilities were usually provided by the beneficiary itself, most of the infrastructures were considered Uzbek property. As a consequence, Uzbek authorities were in charge of their operation and maintenance, thus preventing that the disadvantaged upstream neighbour practically controlled water discharges. In this way, any discourse of conflict potential and hostile attitude by the geographically dominant actor had little significance. Rather, the reservoir building took the form of a State expropriation, with Moscow unilaterally subtracting lands to one of its administrative units, in order to pursue a superior national interest, namely the profitable cotton production. This was perfectly logical in the perspective of a unitary governance of the region. Indeed, Kyrgyz SSR, as a hierarchically subordinate actor, could claim adequate compensation for its losses, but had little power to oppose the ultimate targets fixed by Moscow. In the same vein, retaliation was not an option, since central government was unlikely to allow that downstream economy would be damaged by this kind of conflict. Indeed, in most cases, Union’s officials’ intervention was reactive in settling disputes, by exerting their authority. When Kyrgyz SSR took control of its first reservoir, the Tortgul one on the Isfara river, conflict events, in

90 the form of retaliations, unilateral actions and consequent basin-wide inefficiency, particularly impacting on downstream agriculture, took place. Nevertheless, the effects of such events were successfully prevented from seriously affecting local relations and economy thanks to the timely and active interventions by Moscow, either through mediation or direct actions, like in the case of Protocol no. 413. The fragile balance of the regional water management appeared as the only viable option for supporting Soviet cotton industry. However, the key element in the understanding of subsequent evolutions is the geography of cotton itself. Central Asian cash crops were concentrated downstream, with Uzbekistan being the leading producer. Therefore, Uzbek economic and water allocation interests coincided with the Union’s ones to a large extent. On the other side, Kyrgyzstan had not benefitted from the same investments and would inherit a weaker economy. It would still maintain its subordinate political and economic position among the basin’s countries, in particular vis-à-vis Uzbekistan, but would then be able to use all its bargaining power as deriving from the flow-regulating facilities lying on its territory, and that it would control. There would be no longer central government to impose its targets and decisions, and Kyrgyzstan could freely exploit its resources, as it had begun to understand in 1970s. However, without the prompt healing reactions from Moscow, disputes could more likely set the conditions for a broader chronic conflict between the States.

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4. The Fragmentation of the Basin: Political Independence and Water Interdependency After 1991 Soviet legacy deeply affected the development of Central Asian Republics, which seemed to be obliged to move along a marked-out path. Many of the decisions taken by the central government of the Union, as set out in the previous chapters, contributed to the emergence of the complex geopolitical picture of independent Central Asia, and of Ferghana Valley in particular. There are at least four elements that rendered the situation so potentially unstable. Such elements were legacies of different, and not always interrelated, Soviet policies, whose combination became highly destabilising also due to the disappearance of a central “supranational” power, like Moscow had been for the region. The first strand in terms of relevance for subsequent evolutions, and from a chronological perspective as well, was the development of cotton agriculture. Climatic and geographical conditions of the region, and underlying economic needs, rendered Central Asia a perfect target for Tsarist ambitions of cotton self-sufficiency, paving the way for later Soviet policies. In this field, continuity between the two rulers was complete. Ferghana Valley revealed itself as a highly suitable and productive place for the cash crop and became soon one of the hearts of its cultivation. Irrigation and border delimitation should be considered together, although their interconnectedness was in fact ignored in many cases by Soviet rulers. Indeed, Soviet policies in the field of irrigation infrastructures left some actors in total control of principal water resources, and some totally dependent on them for their economic survival. Boundaries often resected river basins among two or more countries, separating also the upstream facilities from the lands they benefitted. Nevertheless, most of the biggest irrigation systems were, instead, built after the establishment of such borders, consciously straddling them. Actually, they had little relevance within the Union, and were considered as administrative boundaries. This scheme was replicated both at national and local level. The former case concerns the main stem of the Syr Darya, which irrigates most of the valley and a great part of the downstream sown lands. The presence of the upstream Toktogul Reservoir created major tensions and several energy and diplomatic crises during the 1990s and 2000s. To a similar extent, single provinces and even villages experienced the same situation, and, given the border design outlined by the NTD, Uzbek ones usually 92 occupied the downstream position. However, the tangled boundaries and the presence of enclaves, especially in the South, often created paradoxical settings, in which some regions of the same country were in an upstream position, while other in the downstream one. The last Soviet policy contributing to the post-independence instability was water management. As a single entity, the USSR planned Central Asian economic strategy in a way that would fit its interests. In that sense, cotton growing was fixed as the pillar of the regional economy, and its maximisation as the ultimate goal of the water allocation pattern. Therefore, water should primarily serve irrigation, concentrated downstream, while upstream countries, where most of the rivers originated, were strongly disadvantaged. Indeed, with this scheme, their hydropower potential could not be used during the winter, when the energy demand is high. A fossil energy supply from downstream was thus envisaged in those months to fulfil basic needs. The chapter will analyse how the outcome of those four Soviet policies combined after 1991, setting up a system which revealed unable to cooperate. Conflict, in the form of interstate tensions, retaliations and localised violence, has been instead a frequent response to the contradictions of the system. The analysis will develop on two lines. The first part will deal with the macro-dispute that emerged soon in 1990s and that created the major tensions: the water-energy nexus. The emergence of national interests was incompatible with the unbalanced scheme set up by Moscow and constituted one of the main sources of conflict among the riparian States. By examining the weaknesses of the unsuccessful agreements reached across the years, basically regarding the functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir, a strong Soviet responsibility will be pointed out behind the retaliations and the hostile rhetoric that often characterised interstate relations after 1991. In the second part of this chapter, three case studies will be reported to present the situation on the borders. They represent useful examples to explain the different nature that water disputes had at local level, especially in the STT basins. In this case as well, the structural weaknesses that Soviet water allocation, irrigation networks and border setting left in 1991 will be seen as the main source of conflicts. Three case studies will be presented: the Isfara basin, with the clashes of Vorukh; the Sokh basin, with the clashes on the southern border; the case of O&M in transboundary facilities, with the tensions near the Kasansai Reservoir. For the former two, a double perspective will be adopted in analysing water disputes at local level: the institutional one, examining the unsuccessful story of basin agreements, and a focus on specific community conflicts, trying to understand how the Soviet infrastructural and border legacy actually impacted.

93

4.1. Tug-of-War Over the Syr Darya: Failure of Diplomacy, Energy Crises and Retaliations

4.1.1. Water and Energy Scheme at the Time of Independence

The post-independence history of Central Asia officially began in 1991, when all the Republics declared independence and the Soviet Union was formally dismantled on 26 December323. As for Ferghana Valley specifically, the new era started with the declaration by Kyrgyzstan324 and Uzbekistan325 on 31 August, followed by Tajikistan on 9 September326. However, the first events of destabilisation and division along ethnic and national lines had already started in 1989. With the rise of nationalist discourses, the quiescent international boundaries set in 1920s and 1930s were assuming a different and more concrete meaning, and diffidence among different ethnic groups was increasing. Early clashes took place in Kuvasai, when a fight between Uzbeks and Meshketian Turks left 56 people dead and 650 injured. The violence spread in numerous cities of the valley, especially Kokand, Ferghana and Namangan, where the number of Turks was higher, causing further deaths. The roots of the riots dated back to the Stalinist period and its massive resettlements of people327. The events represented a sign of the growing nationalisms, which were undermining the unity of the valley more than NTD had done in fact. The progressive weakening of Moscow’s grip on the region favoured the spreading and festering of such divisions, eventually allowing even minor disputes to escalate. In early summer 1989, a land and irrigation dispute on the border between the Tajik Isfara and the Kyrgyz Batken provinces escalated into a major crisis, which led to several dead and injured people. The same sector of the boundary had already been affected by similar disputes since 1958 but had never reached such levels of violence328. In June 1990, in a climate of political turmoil, in the Kyrgyz district of Osh, another case of inter-ethnic tensions happened. In March 1990, Uzbeks, that represented the majority of Osh’s population, formally appealed for the creation of an “Osh Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic” within the Kyrgyz Soviet Republic,

323 Martha B. Olcott, “Central Asia’s Catapult to Independence”, Foreign Affairs 71, no. 3 (1992): 108-130, 108. 324 Ibid., 111. 325 The Editors of the Enciclopaedia Britannica, “Uzbekistan”, Enciclopaedia Britannica (08 August 2018), available at https://www.britannica.com/place/Uzbekistan. 326 Baktybek Beshimov, Pulat Shozimov, and Murat Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. by Frederick S. Starr (Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011), 212. 327 Ibid., 188-190. 328 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 110. 94 inflaming the pride of the Kyrgyz part of the city. In May the situation was already out of control, and a big clash involving more than 13,000 people happened on 4 June. Between 600 and 1,500 were killed, calling for the immediate curfew and the direct intervention of political and religious leaders to calm down the situation329. This context of harsh nationalistic confrontations was made paradoxical by the persistent natural and infrastructural interconnectedness of the valley. As stated in chapter two, the building of transportation, irrigation and energy systems in Soviet times had not taken into account the border setting as designed in the 1920s and developed irrespectively of the boundaries. As for irrigation, this problem was particularly relevant. Water scarcity and the environmental disaster of the Aral Sea Basin had already emerged as an urgent issue for Central Asia. Moscow had tried to reconcile a more rational use of the hydric resources with the financial necessity of growing cotton industry. The pattern individuated by Soviet leaders clearly favoured downstream countries330. Indeed, the proportional principle always guided water allocation as negotiated by the Soviet Socialist Republics under the aegis of Moscow. In this respect, upstream countries should be entitled to a lower quota of the resources. Indeed, they occupied a narrow portion of the Sea basin (only 20% of the 1,760,000 km2 of the basin lied in Kyrgyz or Tajik territory331), and had considerably lower, in terms of population332 and agricultural production. The latter element was particularly relevant for establishing the quotas. The pivotal element of the entire scheme was the geography of cotton. The bulk of cotton growing was concentrated in downstream States, due to their more suitable morphology, and the Tsarist and Soviet policies that massively invested in their agriculture. Indeed, ambitious strategies of “conquering” the arid lowlands of Turkmenistan and western Uzbekistan, and, later, the steppes of Kazakhstan, had definitely assigned to those Republics the monopoly of cotton production. Kyrgyz and Tajik agriculture and cotton crops concentrated mainly in their sectors of the Ferghana Valley, but, even there, they owned a minority share of the irrigated lands. In 1988, the irrigated area in the valley amounted to 1,382,000 ha, 919,000 or 66% of which laid in Uzbek territory, while Kyrgyz and Tajik SSRs had only 21% (290,000 ha) and 13% (173,000 ha) respectively333.

329 Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 195-196. 330 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 1997. 331 IFAS Executive Committee, “Integrated Land and Water Management in the Upper Watersheds”, Aral Sea Basin Program 6, Regional Report, Vol. B (Almaty/Bishkek//Tashkent: International Fund for Saving the Aral Sea, 1997), 4. 332 Uzbekistan was by far the most populous Republic in Central Asia. See: P. L. Dash, “Central Asian Republics: Discord over Riverine Resources”, Economic and Political Weekly 38, no. 6 (2003), 522. 333 Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2741. 95

The entire hydraulic system had been projected to support such agricultural arrangement, and river waters had been allocated accordingly. Through a complex and, sometimes, confused system of monetary and non-monetary compensations, upstream countries were allegedly paid back for their lands and services. In fact, they were relegated to a subordinate role compared to downstream cotton suppliers. Focusing on the Syr Darya Basin and, specifically, on the Ferghana Valley, the hydrological and infrastructural system did actually advantage Kyrgyzstan vis-à-vis Uzbekistan. De facto, through the Toktogul Reservoir, it could control 58% of the river’s total annual capacity334, and owned the biggest hydroelectric plant of the basin, with a power generating potential of 4.1 billion kWh per year335. Together with the other hydroelectric power plants located downstream Toktogul and forming the so-called Naryn-Syr Darya cascade (Kurpsai, Tashkumyr, Shamaldysai, and Uch- Kurgan), the annual output of electric power reached almost 10 billion kWh336. However, the huge bargaining power deriving from such position was neutralised by Moscow, which imposed unfavourable shares to the Kyrgyz SSR, as reported above. Moreover, the Toktogul Reservoir was set on the irrigation mode. This meant that the releases were very close to the natural flow of the river, limited to 180 m3/s during the wintertime (October to March), while discharging the bulk of water in the growing season, from April to September. In this way, the impact of the facility on the riparian downstream settlements was minimum337. The energy produced by the massive releases in the summer months, largely in surplus compared to the low electricity demand of that season, was transferred to the CAEP and reallocated among the riparian States. In turn, Kyrgyzstan could benefit from low-cost or free coal, gas and oil (mazut) supplies from Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. Such fuels were basically employed for the functioning of thermal power plants and winter domestic demand, especially for heating338. Thus, under the irrigation regime, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan were highly dependent on Toktogul’s releases for their vital agricultural output, while Kyrgyzstan relied on energy from downstream to prevent its people from freezing during the winter. However, disputes in the Soviet era concerned the adequacy of land and monetary compensation, or water allocation on the STTs. The irrigation mode of Toktogul Reservoir and the energy-water scheme between Kyrgyz SSR and the other riparian States had never been questioned.

334 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 1997. 335 Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, 88. 336 Antipova et al., “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, 507. 337 Antipova et al., “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, 506. 338 Weinthal, State Making and Environmental Cooperation, 117. 96

4.1.2. The Almaty Agreement and Its Failure (1992-1995)

The collapse of the Soviet Union left Central Asia divided into energy-rich and water-rich countries339, with wide differences not only in resource endowments, but also in economic conditions in terms of GDP. For instance, in 1991, Uzbekistan’s GDP was 1.8 times higher than the combined GDPs of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan340. The risk of unilateral energy policies in contrast with the regional longstanding equilibrium was concrete and would be one of the elements causing the first crisis in water management. For this reason, as early as 12 October 1991, the water ministers of the Central Asian States gathered to set the new water allocation pattern for the Amu Darya and Syr Darya basins. The outcome of the meeting was the confirmation of the main features of the Soviet system in terms of shares. The result represented the basis to the formal agreement reached and signed on 18 February 1992 in Almaty341. Among its premises, the agreement seals the will of the parties to respect “the existing pattern and principles of water allocation […] based on acting regulations of water allocation from interstate sources”342. At the dawn of the independence era, the existing quotas assigned 51.7% of the Syr Darya’s flow to Uzbekistan, 38.1% to Kazakhstan, 9.2% to Tajikistan and only 1% to Kyrgyzstan343. Among the general provisions of the agreement, article 1 and 3 seemed to follow the ongoing debate within the international community over the international watercourses. The articles, which recalled the hydrography (or territorial sovereignty) and absolute riverine integrity (or territorial integrity) criteria, as explained in chapter one of this thesis, tried to find a compromise between upstream and downstream interests344. The legal solution would be finally presented in the aforementioned “Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Uses of International Watercourses” adopted by the UN General Assembly in 1997, under the principle of

339 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 1995. 340 Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 217. 341 International Crisis Group, “Central Asia: Water and Conflict”, Asia Report no. 34 (Osh/Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2002), 7. 342 Multilateral Agreement (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan), “On Cooperation in the Field of Joint Water Resources Management and Conservation of Interstate Sources” (Almaty, 18 February 2002), available at http://afghanwaters.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/Almaty-1992-Agreement-Aral-Sea-.pdf. 343 Hermann Kreutzmann, “From Upscaling to Rescaling: Transforming the Ferghana Basin from Tsarist Irrigation to Water Management for an Independent Uzbekistan”, in Society-Water-Technology: A Critical Appraisal of Major Water Engineering Projects, ed. Reinhard Hüttl et al., (New York: Springer Open, 2016), 124. 344 Multilateral Agreement, “On Cooperation in the Field of Joint Water Resources Management and Conservation of Interstate Sources”, art. 1, 3. 97

“reasonable and equitable use”345. Article 4 represented an admirable achievement as regards ecology. It formally acknowledged and prompted joint action against the desiccation of the Aral Sea346. The most important outcome of the agreement was the establishment of the Interstate Coordinating Water Management Commission (ICWMC), as regulated in articles 7 to 11. The Commission would be the regional water management body for transboundary resources, in charge of laying out both long-term strategies and short-term water use limits and reservoir operating schedules347. The executive organs of such regional coordinated water policy were the already cited BWOs of Syr Darya and Amu Darya348. They were tasked with monitoring the implementation of ICWMC’s decisions and had the power to adjust quotas by 15% on a case by case evaluation349. Nonetheless, the agreement presented several weaknesses. In particular, it is possible to individuate eight350. 1. It was signed in the wake of the dissolution of the Soviet Union, when most of the leaders and the administration were in continuity with the communist apparatus351. The independence itself appeared a necessary move in response to the central waning, rather than a conscious national will to separate352. The confirmation of existing patterns was the natural and easiest choice, but it hastily assumed that the new Republics would be satisfied with the previous unbalanced roles imposed by Moscow. In fact, divergent national needs would soon emerge, especially in the energy sector; 2. There was a lack of reliable data about the actual flow of the main rivers. In particular, the Syr Darya has an average annual flow of around 37 km3, but presents a high variability, 3 353 ranging between 23.5 and 51 km . Without adequate funding in the newly independent

345 UN General Assembly, Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses. 346 Multilateral Agreement, “On Cooperation in the Field of Joint Water Resources Management and Conservation of Interstate Sources”, art. 4. 347 Ibid., art. 7, 8. 348 Ibid., art. 9. 349 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 7. 350 Ibid., 8. 351 In four out of the five signatory countries, the newly elected presidents had been also the last First Secretaries of National Communist Parties of the Soviet period (as reported above, in Tajikistan Mahkamov was forced to resign soon after the independence). 352 In a 1991 referendum on the preservation of the Soviet Union, 70% of the voters in Turkmenistan, 94% in Uzbekistan, 95% in Kyrgyzstan and 96% in Tajikistan voted in favour of staying. See: Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 205. 353 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 228. 98

Kyrgyzstan, hydrological posts fell into disarray and the ICWMC actually worked on allotments “not knowing how much water there is to distribute”354; 3. The ICWMC lacked transparency and did not involve fundamental stakeholders like the NGOs and the Water Users’ Associations (WUA)355, ending in low effectiveness in decision making as well; 4. The Almaty agreement, and the focus of ICWMC, was on water allocation and use, excluding direct negotiations over agricultural practices and energy. This gap would be filled by subsequent bilateral agreements and finally settled through the 1998 multilateral deal; 5. The decision-making process’ features of ICWMC, which envisaged consensus as the voting mechanism, often led to paralysis. Moreover, the scarce impact of the new management system was also due to the low actual power of the executive bodies, BWOs. Indeed, BWOs operated in a subordinate status vis-à-vis national authorities. Their main problem was that agreements did not have the status of international law, and that they themselves were not even recognized by national legislatures, which meant that they lacked authority over the national use of resources356; 6. Lack of commitment and a consequent chronic lack of funding would affect the Almaty system as well as the following agreements. Obligations were proportionally linked to water shares, but only Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan actually complied regularly throughout the years. The funds were mainly used for operational costs, while insufficient money was left for repair or replacement investments357; 7. No agreement was reached upon sharing operational and maintenance (O&M) costs for major infrastructures. The most emblematic case was the Toktogul Reservoir, which required 25 million dollars per year for maintenance only, a cost that Kyrgyzstan could not

354 International Crisis Group, “Interview with Dr. Tursynbek Kudekov, Director-General of Kazhydromet” (Almaty, 26 February 2002), as cited in International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 8. 355 Water Users’ Associations are formal organisations created to bring together primary users of water resources for the purpose of managing a shared irrigation system. They have operational and local management tasks. See: International Water Management Institute, “Water user associations”, Regional News (13 June 2018), available at http://www.iwmi.cgiar.org/2018/06/water-user-associations/. 356 Stuart Horsman, “Water in Central Asia: Regional Cooperation or Conflict?”, in Central Asian Security: The New International Context, ed. Roy Allison and Lena Jonson (Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2001), 73. 357 Max Spoor, Anatoly Krutov, “The 'Power of Water' in a Divided Central Asia”, Perspectives on Global Development and Technology 2, no. 3-4 (2003), 607. 99

afford on its own358. This item would be a leit motive of interstate disputes and negotiations in the 1990s; 8. The outcome of the Almaty negotiations was an agreement on shares and management of the main courses of Syr Darya and Amu Darya. It did not consider the issue of STTs, which was of the uttermost importance for the Ferghana Valley. Therefore, the applicable legal framework dated back to the 1980 Protocol359, which was actually outdated as regarded many watercourses. Indeed, later accords had been negotiated on numerous STTs. This led to overlapping documents and legal uncertainty, with States often negotiating on an ad hoc basis360. Soon after the independence, downstream countries began laying out energy strategies that could maximise their huge fossil reserves and allow both to be self-sufficient in that sector and to enhance exports. Uzbekistan increased oil and gas production in order to free itself from dependency on Russian oil, while improving its energy revenues. It started demanding world market prices for its resources to Kyrgyzstan as well. Kazakhstan, which could not benefit from a sound cotton industry as Uzbekistan did, bet on energy sector. It privatised coal, oil and gas production and demanded hard currency for it to Central Asian countries as well, detaching from the traditional energy-water barter361. As stated above, the economic gap among the Republics was already remarkable at the time of independence. In particular, Kyrgyzstan figured among the poorest ones in terms of GDP, with a predominantly agricultural economy362, lack of natural resources apart from water, and a rapid liberalisation under the guidance of the International Monetary Fund, which actually isolated the country from its neighbours in terms of trade363. The low cost or free supply of energy in exchange for an adequate discharge of water had represented the main pillar of the energy-water scheme behind the functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir. Now, Kyrgyzstan had to accumulate debts for purchasing energy from downstream riparian States in wintertime, but it could not financially endure the new prices. Therefore, Kyrgyzstan began to stop its energy imports from Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan and decided to turn to hydropower. By

358 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 9. 359 Sogd Province Water Management Department, “Protocol of the inter-republican meeting on the inter-republican water allocation in the small rivers of the Ferghana Valley”. 360 Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2742. 361 Erika Weinthal, “Water Conflict and Cooperation in Central Asia”, UNDP Human Development Report Office Occasional Paper (New York: United Nations Development Program, 2006), 12. 362 Agriculture accounted for 52% of the GDP in 1991. See: Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 241. 363 Ibid., 233. 100 ceasing to import coal, oil and gas, the impact on energy was twofold. On the one hand, the country’s thermal power plants did no longer have the necessary fuel to sustain the pace of previous production. From 1988 to 1999, the electricity output of the plants dropped from 4,108 to 982 GWh, while the thermal output decreased from 5,145,000 to 2,054,000 Gcal364. On the other hand, the energy that had been directly and indirectly obtained from imported resources, especially during winter months, had to be replaced. Hence, the demand of electric power for heating, hot water supply and cooking increased dramatically. In the non-growing season, it reached 75% of the annual electricity demand in 1996, from 50% of 1991365. Despite the aforementioned increasing winter releases since 1989366, the new energy requirements obliged Kyrgyzstan to resort to hydroelectric production through a more resolute shift in water management. In particular, the Toktogul Reservoir was the main target of the new policy, since it could provide an average long-term generation of electricity of 5 billion kWh, or 45% of the total Kyrgyz energy needs. Therefore, between 1990 and the new multilateral agreement of 1998, hydropower passed from covering less than 70% of the electricity demand of the country, to fulfilling 91% of it367. This meant a shift away from irrigation in the functioning mode of Toktogul. Indeed, the reservoir progressively reduced its summertime releases, while increasing winter ones. Although it had been projected, and, in Soviet time, actually used, for around 75% discharge in growing season and 25% in winter months, across 1990s it reversed such shares, reaching 45% summer releases in 1999368. In general, throughout the decade, riparian countries tried on several occasions to settle the energy-water dilemma through both bilateral and multilateral agreements. In the wake of Kyrgyzstan’s decision to reverse Toktogul’s functioning mode, interactions have progressively increased. Between 1992 and 2001, 84 water-related events, in the form of formal or informal deals, took place. Although data refer to events regarding both Syr Darya and Amu Darya basins, Leila Zakhirova reports that a sharp increase in the number of interactions since 1997 is to be linked to the disputes between Kyrgyzstan and downstream countries about the Toktogul Reservoir369. Despite such efforts, numerous defections and an underlying lack of trust among the parties led to yearly variations in the management of discharges. For instance, in 1994,

364 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 231. 365 Antipova et al., “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, 506. 366 In 1991/1992 the discharge during non-growing season had further increased to 5.1 km3. See: Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, 88. 367 Antipova et al., “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, 507. 368 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2007. 369 Ibid., 2003. 101 exceptionally high inflows in the summer months were not followed by proportional releases, which instead remained around a monthly average of 1 km3, while winter discharge had been remarkable, with an average of almost 1.5 km3. On the contrary, 1995 was closer to an irrigation regime, with releases roughly following the natural riverine rhythm (see figure 1). The new regime soon produced a wide range of negative consequences. The inversion of release pattern completely changed the hydrograph of the Syr Darya, and strongly affected the surrounding environment. Indeed, winter releases, not needed for irrigation purposes, started provoking big floods, making ice dams in frozen rivers and tributaries collapse. Huge damages were endured by human settlements370 and infrastructures along the riverbed371. The excessive discharge, which could not be entirely contained by the Kairakkum Reservoir, was diverted into the natural depression of Arnasai in Uzbekistan, in order to prevent flooding in the western lowlands. However, as soon as 1994, the diversions exceeded 8 km3, and increased the storage of the depression up to 25 km3 372. It contributed to form the man-made system of lakes of

Figure 1. Levels of actual storage (upper line), monthly inflow (grey lines), and monthly releases (white lines) of the Toktogul Reservoir, from January 1994 to March 2000. Source: Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 60.

Aydarkul, Arnasai and Tuzkan, whose waters could no longer reach the Aral Sea373. Moreover, being it a saline depression, salinity reaches 2.5-3.0 grams per litre in the artificial lake, rendering

370 Soviet engineers had diverted the natural course of the Syr Darya in many sectors, using parts of the original riverbed for farming or settlements. As a result, releases exceeding 480-500 m3/s ended flooding those areas, in particular during winter, when even lower discharges could produce the same effect by breaking down ice blocks. See: International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 14. 371 Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, 89. 372 Antipova et al., “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, 507. 373 Weinthal, “Water Conflict and Cooperation in Central Asia”, 13. 102 it unusable for irrigation374. As seen above, the hydropower mode left lower amount of stored water for the summer months, causing droughts, further hampering water to reach the Aral Sea due to the drying up of tributaries375. Nevertheless, attempts to conjugate upstream hydroelectric with downstream irrigation needs, together with the expansion of irrigated agriculture376, led to overexploitation of the river flow. The natural functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir envisaged a maximum discharge of 12 km3 per year, in order to maintain a security quantity for low-water years377. As observed in figure 1, the level has often been exceeded throughout the 1990s, leading the actual storage level of the reservoir to dangerously approach the dead storage level378.

4.1.3. The Energy Barter: The Annual Bilateral Accords and the 1998 Multilateral Agreement (1995-2005)

The unpredictability of water discharges urged to be solved. From 1995, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan met regularly in bilateral rounds to reach an agreement on the Toktogul Reservoir’s functioning. Such deals, which specified the amount of water discharges per month and the related energy compensations, were reviewed annually by the top management of the republican power, water and fuel industries, together with the Syr Darya BWO. The resulting proposals had to be approved in the form of intergovernmental agreements379. Since the Almaty agreement of 1992, further efforts towards a shared governance of the Aral Sea Basin had been made. In 1993, the Central Asian Republics signed the “Agreement on joint action to address the problem of the Aral Sea and surrounding areas, environmental improvement and

374 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 15. 375 Khamidov, “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, 89. 376 Between 1995 and 2000, in Central Asia irrigated lands increased by 7%. In particular, upstream expansion, no longer controlled by Moscow, heavily impacted on downstream water availability. The vital role of cotton as hard currency earner made agricultural extension a priority for riparian countries. From 1991 to 2006, cultivated land grew from 15% to 41.3% of the total land in the Uzbek sector of the Ferghana Valley, from 41.1% to 52.8% in the Kyrgyz part, and from 13.1% to 26.3% in the Tajik one. See: International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 3; Dash, “Central Asian Republics: Discord over Riverine Resources”, 523; Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 241. 377 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 233. 378 The dead storage level, or dead storage capacity, is the portion of the total storage capacity equalling the volume of water below the level of the lowest outlet (that is the minimum supply level). This water cannot be accessed through ordinary operations (namely, discharge through opening of the dam’s outlets), but has to be pumped out of the reservoir. See: Australian Government Bureau of Meteorology, “Dead storage capacity”, Australian Water Information Dictionary, available at http://www.bom.gov.au/water/awid/id-146.shtml; Ladislav Votruba, Vojtěch Broža, “Water Management in Reservoirs”, Developments in Water Science 33 (New York: Elsevier Publishing Company, 1989), 187. 379 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 61. 103 ensuring socio-economic development of the Aral Sea region”. Although its main goal was to draw attention on a more rational use of land and water resources within the basin, the institutional changes were, in fact, its most relevant outcome. An Interstate Council for the Aral Sea Basin (ICAS) was established, to which the ICWMC was subordinated380. It was tasked with implementing the Aral Sea Basin Program (ASBP)381. In 1993, an International Fund for Saving the Aral Sea (IFAS) was founded as well, in charge of raising funds for the ICAS382. Nevertheless, the problem of scarce commitment persisted. Although a mere 1% of the GNP was initially required to the riparian States to finance the IFAS, and this percentage was later decreased to 0.3% for downstream countries and 0.1% for upstream ones, the organisations still suffered from underfunding383. In May and June 1995, the first bilateral accords on water-energy barter among Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan were signed. Water drafts from the Toktogul were fixed at 6.5 km3 during the vegetation period (April-September), with a surplus electricity production of 2.2 billion kWh, to be transferred equally to downstream countries (1.1 billion kWh each). In exchange, Kyrgyzstan would receive 985,000 tonnes of Kazakh coal and 200 million m3 of Uzbek gas, both for its winter domestic needs and for the functioning of its thermal power plants. Subsequent adjustments of the deal mainly concerned the amount of the compensations from downstream, while the water discharges were left intact in 1996 and 1997. The former were smoothly increased in different bilateral agreements between Kyrgyzstan and riparian counterparts384. Nevertheless, the trend was one of defection. Although Kyrgyzstan managed to guarantee a satisfactory summer water discharge in 1995, 1996 and 1997, with 6.3, 6.2 and 6.1 km3 respectively out of the planned 6.5, the energy return obligations were never fulfilled by Kazakhstan in the first two years (only 450,000 out of the planned 985,000 tonnes of coal in 1995, and 202,000 out of 600,000 in 1996 were actually delivered). This led Kyrgyzstan to counterbalance through extra-releases during winter385. In the meanwhile, Uzbekistan was heavily

380 Executive Committee of the IFAS, “Review of Regional agreements on water use in Central Asia”, Conventions and agreements (2011), available at http://ec-ifas.waterunites-ca.org/aral_basin/legal-issues/conventions-and- agreements/167-review-of-regional-agreements-on-water-use-in-central-asia.html. 381 The Aral Sea Basin Program was formally approved in January 1994. It aimed at: stabilising the environment in the Aral Sea basin; restoring the disaster zone around the Sea; improving management of transboundary waters in the basin; developing the capacity of the regional organisations to plan and implement the Program. See: Executive Committee of the IFAS, “History of ASBP-1”, ASB Program (2011), available at http://ec-ifas.waterunites- ca.org/pbam/pbam-1/index.html. 382 Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Turkmenistan, “The History of IFAS Creation”, International Fund for Saving the Aral Sea (2018), available at http://www.mfa.gov.tm/en/articles/56?breadcrumbs=no&title=aral. 383 Spoor, Krutov, “The 'Power of Water' in a Divided Central Asia”, 607. 384 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 61-64. 385 Ibid. 104 increasing its cotton growing. In 1997, the harvest rose by 50% compared to the previous year, amounting to 3.7 million tonnes. Kyrgyzstan utilised only one fifth of the 51 billion m3 of water it generated386. The competing interests put great pressure upon the Toktogul Reservoir. By the beginning of the growing season of 1998, its storage amounted to 7.2 km3, with a dead storage of 5.5387. The main weaknesses of the annual agreements, which would partially affect also the deals signed in the following years, were four388. 1. Timing: the deals were usually signed at the beginning of the vegetation season (from March to May), when Kyrgyzstan had already used a great part of the reservoir’s water to fulfil its wintertime energy demand, and the Uzbek and Kazakh fields were in dire need of water. An earlier negotiation would have incentivised Kyrgyzstan to reduce its energy production and rely on compensation from downstream; 2. Lack of trust, fuelled also by “involuntary” defections in energy transfers due to technical problems, such as inefficient infrastructures; 3. Lack of control mechanisms; 4. The persistent absence of a cost sharing agreement for the operation and maintenance of the Toktogul Reservoir, with impacts on its functioning. The growing competition over the reservoir’s water allocation, and a severe drought in 1997, urged a new and more structured deal to prevent Toktogul from emptying further. On 17 March 1998, under the aegis of the Executive Committee of the Central Asian Economic Community, the three riparian Republics signed their first multilateral agreement on the water-energy barter. The agreement “On the Use of Water and Energy Resources of the Syr Darya Basin” followed the approach of the bilateral ones. The figures of released water and energy by Kyrgyzstan remained barely unchanged compared to 1995-1997 bilateral agreements. Indeed, the Toktogul’s summer releases were fixed at 6.5 km3, with an energy transmission of 2,200 kWh downstream. In return, specific amounts of energy (gas, coal and oil) would be provided to Kyrgyzstan during the winter. The logic of the exchange was the following one. In order to fulfil its seasonal energy requirements, Kyrgyzstan needed a discharge of around 3.5 km3 from April to September and 8.5 from October to March. On the contrary, downstream countries needed at least 6 km3 in the growing season for irrigation purposes, and no

386 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2007. 387 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 61, 67. 388 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 13. 105 water during the winter. Therefore, this situation required a shift of roughly 2.5 km3 from winter to summer releases in order to support downstream interests. A release of 2.5 km3 can generate electricity for 2,200 million kWh. Such amount, which would represent a surplus for Kyrgyz needs during the summer, would be transferred to downstream countries, and would be compensated in the non-vegetation season through fossil fuels from Uzbekistan389 and Kazakhstan390. The agreement improved previous ones for a range of aspects. First, it was a multilateral deal, binding in the same agreement the three main actors of the Syr Darya basin. Second, it proposed an alternative to the barter, which foresaw monetary compensation, displaying a desire to replace energy exchange by financial relations. Finally, it contained a provision for dispute settlement through arbitration courts391. However, the 1998 barter agreement presented different weaknesses that can be considered in continuity with the major agreements of the 1990s. 1. Although the accord was legally valid for a five-year period, it was decided that specific annual figures would still be set by periodic negotiations; 2. Initially, it did not include Tajikistan, which is actually an important stakeholder of the basin. It joined the accord only in 1999392; 3. It still lacked any means of enforcement393; 4. Quotas were rigid and were not adjusted even in case of changes in the natural flow of the river that hampered deliveries irrespective of the goodwill by the States394; 5. Finally, the agreement did not provide any joint financial mechanism for the biggest infrastructures yet, Toktogul Reservoir above all395. Article 7 states that operation, maintenance and reconstruction costs of energy or water facilities shall be covered by whom owned them, that means, in most cases, the State in which they physically lie. However, Kyrgyzstan was financially unable to bear such costs, especially for its biggest infrastructures, like Toktogul Reservoir. In 1999, operation and maintenance funding was

389 The Uzbek gas included in the deal served as fuel for the Kyrgyz thermal power plants. Gas for domestic use had to be purchased by the Kyrgyz State energy company Kyrgyzgaz from its Uzbek counterpart, Uztransgaz. See: International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 14. 390 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 233. 391 World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia: Improving Regional Cooperation in the Syr Darya Basin, 10. 392 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 233. 393 Kai Wegerich, “Coping with disintegration of a river-basin management system: multi-dimensional issues in Central Asia”, Water Policy 6 (2004), 341. 394 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 12. 395 Executive Committee of the IFAS, “Review of Regional agreements on water use in Central Asia”. 106

only 40% of what was needed396. This heavily impacted on the efficiency, with 300 million m3 water lost every year due to damaged facilities397. The unsatisfactory fulfilment of the 1998 obligations was a major source of tensions between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan. One key element of the failure of the agreement was the distinction between gas supplied to the thermal stations, included in the barter, and gas supplied to domestic consumptions, which was purchased by Kyrgyzstan outside the deal. Already in 1998, Uzbekistan cut off the latter due to the huge debts accumulated by Kyrgyzgaz398. At the same time, due to 1997 Kazakh defections and the increased exploitation of Toktogul by Kyrgyzstan in the winter between 1997 and 1998, the growing season endured a great gap in water supplies from upstream. Water drafts amounted to a mere 3.7 km3 out of the planned 6.5, and the transferred hydropower was of 489 million kWh. Uzbekistan had, instead, almost completely fulfilled its 3 obligations, providing 747.9 million m out of the planned 772. As 1 January 1999, Kyrgyzstan, through its state-owned power company Kyrgyzenergo399, owed the Uzbek Ministry of Energy a debt of 25.9 million dollars. The annual deal on energy compensation for 1999 envisaged a gas supply by Uzbekistan to Kyrgyzstan of 500 million m3 as the result of mutual settlements. This quota was further adjusted during the year, and the gas supply was reduced to 331 million m3 in order to compensate upstream debts. However, during the vegetation season, Kyrgyzstan failed again to guarantee an adequate water discharge. Only 5.06 km3 were released, and 970 million kWh of electricity delivered to Uzbekistan. In September, the Kyrgyz debt, taking into account both Kyrgyzenergo and Kyrgyzgaz, was still of 11.8 million dollars. On 24 September, Uzbekistan cut gas supply to Kyrgyz thermal stations, and did not resume until February 2000400. It used it as a means to force Kyrgyzstan to negotiation and obtain more favourable conditions of water supply. However, it produced the opposite effect401. Indeed, Kyrgyzstan resorted to hydropower to face the critical situation of winter 1999-2000 and released 1.5 km3 more water compared to the previous winter. In January, the highest discharge in a non-growing season month was made (see figure 1), leading the two countries to find a new bilateral solution in March 2000402. However, the

396 Adrian O. Hutchens, Principles of sharing costs associated with operation and maintenance of the water facilities of interstate joint use (USAID-EPIQ, 1999), 6. 397 Wegerich, “Coping with disintegration of a river-basin management system”, 342. 398 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2004. 399 In 1998, Kyrgyzstan began to privatise Kyrgyzenergo, which be formally reorganised into separate power production, power transferring and power distribution bodies. See: Victor Dukhovny, Vadim Sokolov, Lessons on Cooperation Building to Manage Water Conflicts in the Aral Sea Basin, (Paris: UNESCO-IHP, 2003), 50. 400 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 64-65. 401 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2004. 402 Antipova, Zyryanov, “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, 66. 107

1998 agreement was not violated by Kyrgyzstan only. Uzbekistan frequently failed to provide the negotiated amount of gas, mainly due to technical problems. Indeed, Uzbek pipelines needed repair and often caused halts to supply, while the poor quality of gas, which contained a high percentage of water, led to winter freezing and clogging of the pipes. In some months, this made even fulfilling domestic demand hard403. In 2000 a pricing mechanism was added to the 1998 barter. Both Kyrgyz electricity and downstream energy were now formally priced, and quotas followed a value rather than quantitative logic. In particular, Kyrgyz electricity was paid 3.4 US cents per kWh by Uzbekistan and 1 US cent by Kazakhstan404, while coal had a price of 20-22 dollars per tonne, and gas 45-65 dollars per 1,000 m3 405. It was a first step towards monetary compensation for upstream services, but, in fact, it disadvantaged Kyrgyzstan. By introducing quotas tied to world market prices, the cheaper hydropower left a great advantage to downstream countries406. This would be a further destabilising element in the years to follow. Furthermore, it did not mention shared upkeep responsibilities. As displayed above, Kyrgyzstan had already shown its dissatisfaction with this issue in 1993, and constantly drew attention on it during the 1990s. As early as 1997, the first projects of pricing water to downstream countries were advanced. In October, an edict signed by Akayev asserted Kyrgyzstan’s right to profit from water resources that lied in its territory. At the same time, he threatened to sell water to China if Uzbekistan refused to pay and demanded monetary compensation for summer water releases benefitting downstream irrigation and penalising Kyrgyz hydropower407. Nevertheless, the fear of retaliation by the downstream neighbour, the latter’s undisputed role of economic and military hegemon, and confidence in 1998 barter agreement, deterred Kyrgyzstan from adopting concrete hostile measures. Instead, the failure of the agreement and the crisis of 2000 fostered a resolute decision. On 29 June 2001, Kyrgyz Parliament (Jogorku Kenesh) finally voted in favour of the “Law on the Interstate Use of Water Objects, Water Resources and Water Management Installations”. The law asserted that water had an economic value and was owned by the State. Therefore, water resources originated within Kyrgyz borders were property of the country and downstream users must pay for it. Moreover, article 3 provided that States that benefitted from certain Kyrgyz canals

403 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 14. 404 International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 13. 405 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 235. 406 Wegerich, “Coping with disintegration of a river-basin management system”, 341. 407 Bea Hogan, “Central Asian States Wrangle Over Water”, Eurasianet (5 April 2000), available at https://eurasianet.org/asianet-environment-5. 108 or reservoirs, had to contribute to their upkeep408. This led to major protests from downstream countries, appealing to international law and previous agreements. According to Uzbekistan, charging water in shared rivers was contrary to the article 1 of the Almaty Agreement of 1992, which granted equal rights to all the riparian States, but also violated the existing regulations of international law. Indeed, Uzbekistan had repeatedly appealed to international conventions dealing with shared water resources, which acknowledged a fair share of the waters to all the riparian countries409. In fact, the international legal spectrum was made up of overlapping documents, which did not provide a clear nor a unique definition of different concepts and could hardly be applied to the regional issue410. Once again, Kyrgyzstan knew that its privileged geographic position could be used as a valuable means of negotiation but was not sufficient to force downstream countries to pay, given its lower political influence in the region and its weaker position in economic and military terms. The law represented an instrument for bringing Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan to negotiation. Kyrgyz government restricted its payment demands to water passing through facilities, thus focusing on the issue of shared maintenance. Kazakhstan accepted and paid its first contribution for infrastructures on river in March 2002. Uzbekistan continued its opposition until March, when it finally reached an agreement with the upstream neighbour for paying a minority share of the O&M costs in exchange for a guaranteed and stable provision of water411. In 2001, Central Asian countries tried to improve the energy exchange mechanism by renovating the common energy pooling system412. The new Central Asian Unified Grid System (CAUGS) aimed

408 Jogorku Kenesh, “Zakon Kyrgyzskoi Respubliki o mezhgosudarstvennom ispolzovanii vodnykh obektov, vodnykh resursov i vodokhoziaistvennykh sooruzhenii Kyrgyzskoi Respubliki [The Law of the Kyrgyz Republic on the Interstate Use of Water Objects, Water Resources and Water Installations of the Kyrgyz Republic], 29 June 2001, as cited in International Crisis Group, “Water pressures in Central Asia”, 16. 409 In particular, article IV of the Helsinki Rules of 1966 envisaged that “each basin State is entitled, within its territory, to a reasonable and equitable share in beneficial uses of the waters o fan International drainage basin”. See: International Law Association, The Helsinki Rules on the Uses of the Waters of International Rivers, Fifty-second Conference, adopted in Helsinki in August 1966, art. IV. The more recent aforementioned UNGA “Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses” foresaw the principle of reasonable and equitable utilisation of the watercourse within one country’s territory (art. 5), and the obligation not to cause significant harm (art. 7). See: UN General Assembly, Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses, art. 5, 7. 410 Among the ambiguous aspects: the basin could be defined as both a watershed (as in the Helsinki Rules) and an International watercourse (as in the UNGA Convention of 1997); the “equitable and reasonable” (share or utilisation) were not precisely defined in neither document; the terms “substantial” (Helsinki Rules) or “significant” (UNGA Convention of 1997) damage are not precisely defined as well. See: Lessons on Cooperation Building to Manage Water Conflicts in the Aral Sea Basin, 21. 411 A. K. Chaturvedi, Water: A Source for Future Conflict (New Delhi: Vij Books India Pvt Ltd, 2013), 84. 412 The Soviet CAEP was soon reorganised in a Central Asian Power Council after the dissolution of the USSR, in order to keep national grids’ operations synchronised. The common pool connected the countries through a 500kV 109 to restore the volume of power exchanges of 1990413 through higher commitment of the parties. However, the system would soon collapse in the climate of growing unilateralism414. A further blow on the effectiveness of the 1998 agreement was the progressive widening of the price gap between hydropower on one side, and coal and gas on the other. In 2002, while the former’s one stagnated at 2-3 US cents, the latter rose to 40 dollars per tonne and 200 dollars per m3 respectively. With fixed quotas, and an ever lower relative value of hydropower, the sale extra- production of 2,200 million kWh during summer was no longer sufficient to buy back an equivalent amount of fossil energy for winter needs. Data on Kyrgyz electricity exports to Uzbekistan415 show that between 2001 and 2002, and again between 2002 and 2003, 50% drops in exports occurred, while in 2004, 2006 and 2007416 no transfer of electricity was recorded from Kyrgyzstan to Uzbekistan. This meant a stop of the summer surpluses sales, due to an increased wintertime hydropower production, necessary to replace the unaffordable fossil energy of downstream riparian countries417.

4.1.4. Diverging Energy Policies

Beyond the disputed pricing system, the constant decrease in energy trade between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan gives a clear picture of the decreased level of cooperation in the years between 2001 and 2007. After the agreement on partial cost-sharing for major water facilities, occurred in the aftermath of the Kyrgyz law on water charging, countries often ended in diplomatic stalemate. In 2003 and 2004, they were even unable to conclude the annual agreements as foreseen by the 1998 barter deal418. Unilateral actions, especially on the Uzbek side, have tried to solve the water dispute in their own favour, simply fostering retaliations and basin-wide inefficiency419. A new attempt of cooperation was made in November 2006, when the countries signed in Ashgabat the “Framework Convention on Environmental Protection for Sustainable Development transmission system, while actual deliveries were managed by a Unified Dispatch Centre (UDC) based in Tashkent. See: World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia, 5. 413 In 1990-2000, the volume of power exchange had declined by 70%. See: Ibid. 414 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2009. 415 Data provided by the Ministry of Industry, Energy and Fuel Resources of the Kyrgyz Republic cover all the electricity exports, included those outside the agreement. Therefore, higher figures do not necessarily imply proportionally higher effectiveness of the agreement, while no exports mean that the deal ceased to work for that year. 416 The 1998 barter agreement had a validity of five years, to be automatically prolonged for a second mandate in 2003, unless one of the parties objected. Since no formal opposition to the renewal was presented, the agreement was tacitly confirmed for five more years on 17 March 2003. See: World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia, 9. 417 Bernauer, “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, 235. 418 Weinthal, “Water Conflict and Cooperation in Central Asia”, 15. 419 For instance, Uzbekistan built in those years two small reservoirs near Uch-Kurgan, in order to reduce dependency on the Toktogul Reservoir. However, their capacity was too low to replace a proper functioning of the Toktogul. See: Ibid. 110 in Central Asia”. The agreement regarded the protection of air and water quality, biodiversity, the sustainable use of water resources, and the establishment of regional systems of monitoring of transboundary watercourses420. Although it represented an evolution of past agreements in terms of the quality of legal writing and modernity of principles and procedures envisaged therein, its placement within the existing legal framework was unclear, and could lead to further overlapping of norms and the confusing proliferation of international bodies421. However, the Convention has never entered into force422. Subsequent years were marked by increasingly diverging energy policies, and a decrease in cooperation efforts. On the one hand, the last body of joint energy management, the Central Asian Unified Grid System, which had tried to support a good working of the water-energy barter, was definitely decaying; on the other hand, backed by Russian investments, upstream countries massively bet on their hydropower potential, fiercely opposed by Uzbekistan. The CAUGS had soon shown lack of commitment when Turkmenistan withdrew from the system in 2003. However, the heaviest impact on the Syr Darya management pattern happened in October 2009, when Uzbekistan announced its withdrawal, in order to develop an independent power system423. The exit of Uzbekistan, which had historically been the major contributor to the pool424, affected mainly upstream countries, which had to resort to bilateral agreements with other countries, especially Kazakhstan425. The uncertainty of external energy supplies and the perpetual danger of winter cut-offs encouraged also Kyrgyzstan to work on its energy self-sufficiency. As logical, it bet on hydropower, further stressing relations with Uzbekistan. Kambarata-I and Kambarata-II were two HPPs, including related dams and reservoirs, projected in Soviet times to control the Naryn’s flow few kilometres upstream the Toktogul Reservoir. In particular, the construction of Kambarata-I, the biggest one, was initiated in 1986, but never completed due to collapse of the Union. After the independence, its completion was often announced by Krygyzstan to put pressure on downstream Uzbekistan, but in fact it lacked the necessary financial resources even to continue the

420 Simon Marsden, Elizabeth Brandon, Transboundary Environmental Governance in Asia: Practice and Prospects with the UNECE Agreements (Northampton: Edward Elgar Publishing, 2015), 246. 421 Executive Committee of the IFAS, “Review of Regional agreements on water use in Central Asia”, Conventions and agreements. 422 Marsden, Brandon, Transboundary Environmental Governance in Asia: Practice and Prospects with the UNECE Agreements, 246. 423 Alisher Khamidov, “Kyrgyzstan: Bishkek and Tashkent Weigh Gas and Water Concerns”, Eurasianet (14 October 2009), available at https://eurasianet.org/kyrgyzstan-bishkek-and-tashkent-weigh-gas-and-water-concerns. 424 World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia, 5. 425 Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2009. 111 construction426. With considerable investments promised by Russia, discourses of feasibility about the projects were officially resumed in early 2000s. However, in 2008, more detailed investment studies were carried out, defining the financial requirements, which would be provided in large part by Russia. On 6 February 2009, the Kyrgyz Parliament ratified a Russian aid package of two billion of US dollars for Kambarata-I427, while in 2010 the 200-million-dollars Kambarata-II was launched428. Once completed, the complexes would have a total installed capacity of 2,260 MW, generating nearly 5,800 GWh per year. In particular, Kambarata-I would have a gross storage capacity of 5.4 km3, an installed capacity of 1,900 MW and an annual power generation of 4,500 GWh, while Kambarata-II would have a minimum reservoir storage, with capacity and generation potential of 360 MW and 1,260 GWh respectively429. Thus, the projects represented a great opportunity for Kyrgyzstan to free itself from energy dependency on Uzbekistan’s supplies, even producing enough electricity to export it towards Afghanistan and Pakistan430. This caused major concerns to Uzbekistan, which saw the decisive intervention of Moscow as destabilising the Central Asian equilibrium in favour of Kyrgyzstan. Nevertheless, Kambarata projects had to wait at least seven years before becoming operational431, and the announcement only intensified energy tensions. In September 2009, Uztransgaz cut gas supply to southern Kyrgyzstan and reduced by 70% deliveries to the northern regions. The alleged reason was again the huge debt accumulated by Kyrgyzgaz, amounting to 19 million dollars. In fact, it seemed a punishing embargo for recent approaching between Kyrgyzstan and Russia, both in military432 and economic terms, with the financing of Kambarata projects. The cut off triggered another rhetorical escalation, with wintertime retaliation by Kyrgyzstan, which resorted to large releases from the Toktogul to

426 International Crisis Group, “Water Pressures in Central Asia”, Europe and Central Asia Report no. 23 (International Crisis Group, 2014), 18. 427 HydroWorld, “Russia to finance Kyrgyzstan’s 1,900-MW Kambarata 1”, Hydro Review (2 September 2009), available at https://www.hydroworld.com/articles/2009/02/russia-to-finance-kyrgyzstans-1900-mw-kambarata-1.html. 428 HydroWorld, “Kyrgyzstan launches Kambarata 2 hydropower plant”, Hydro Review (9 January 2010), available at https://www.hydroworld.com/articles/2010/09/kyrgyzstan-launches.html. 429 World Bank, Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia, 21. 430 A major projects of electricity trade based on hydropower, backed by the World Bank, was dawning in the meantime, namely the Central Asia South Asia Electricity Transmission and Trade Project (CASA-1000), which envisaged the export of 1,300 MW of surplus summer electricity from Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, to Afghanistan and Pakistan. See: International Crisis Group, “Water Pressures in Central Asia”, 19. 431 HydroWorld, “Russia to finance Kyrgyzstan’s 1,900-MW Kambarata 1”. In fact, increasing costs, domestic political scepticism in Russia, and worsening economic conditions, delayed the beginning of the works, which began in August 2013. See: Chris Rickleton, “Kyrgyzstan: Bishkek’s Hydropower Hopes Hinge on Putin’s Commitment”, Eurasianet (25 April 2013), available at https://eurasianet.org/kyrgyzstan-bishkeks-hydropower-hopes-hinge-on-putins-commitment. 432 Bishkek had announced a possible opening of another Russian military base near the Ferghana’s borders. See: Khamidov, “Kyrgyzstan: Bishkek and Tashkent Weigh Gas and Water Concerns”. 112 compensate the lacking gas433. Russian support to Kyrgyzstan, and the scenario of an upstream project to export electricity to their southern neighbours, were also a threat to Uzbek political and economic role in the region, whose hegemonic position was at stake to the east. Thus, the importance of Kambarata-I and -II went beyond energy and economic evaluations and became a “political project”434. In a famous speech in 2012, the Uzbek President Islom Karimov upped rhetoric against upstream countries and their major hydroelectric projects Rogun and Kambarata complexes. In that occasion, he spoke of the possibility that such massive projects could “spark not simply serious confrontation but even wars”435. In 2014, a new Russian intervention in support of Kyrgyzstan caused further tensions. In April, Russian Gazprom acquired Kyrgyzgaz, whose persisting problem of debts had been the reason of numerous retaliations from downstream and a major weapon in the hands of Uzbekistan within the barter. This move, which contributed to free Kyrgyzstan from energy dependency, enhancing its bargaining power regarding Toktogul’s releases, triggered the immediate Uzbek response, which stopped gas supply to southern Kyrgyzstan. As usual, the latter reacted by increasing winter discharges, but the critical levels of the Toktogul’s Reservoir did not ensure a sufficient production. Threats were extended to the Great Namangan Canal, whose closure was announced in June 2014, just at the height of the growing season. However, the standoff did not cease, and many Kyrgyz regions endured electricity restrictions for several months. The energy crisis was solved only through an agreement between Kyrgyzstan and Gazprom, which would be the gas supplier for the country from the subsequent year436. While the first generator of the smaller Kambarata-II was operational in 2010, the fullest efficiency of the project is still dependent on the completion of the major Kambarata-I, which is still under construction in 2018. The climate of tension with the neighbouring Uzbekistan have discouraged many investors from joining the project. In 2016, RusHydr, which had committed to be the main builder, withdrew because of the persistent land disputes in the area, and the financial risk of the operation437. After the gradually easing of interstate relations after the death of Karimov in 2016, the dialogue upon the Kambarata-I project has turned to a collaborative one. Uzbekistan has

433 Ibid. 434 Rickleton, “Kyrgyzstan: Bishkek’s Hydropower Hopes Hinge on Putin’s Commitment”. 435 Joanna Lillis, “Uzbekistan Leader Warns of Water Wars in Central Asia”, Eurasianet (7 September 2012), available at https://eurasianet.org/uzbekistan-leader-warns-of-water-wars-in-central-asia. 436 International Crisis Group, “Water Pressures in Central Asia”, 21-22. 437 Umida Hashimova, “Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan Undertake Resolving Their Water Disputes”, Eurasia Daily Monitor Volume 14, no. 131 (2017), available at https://jamestown.org/program/uzbekistan-kyrgyzstan-undertake-resolving- water-disputes/. 113 partially acknowledged the advantages the facility could bring to bilateral water management. Indeed, it would accommodate the hydropower ambitions of Kyrgyzstan, while preventing wintertime massive discharges, since the water used for energy production would be stored in the downstream Toktogul Reservoir for the summer. The new climate has fostered a renovated interest in the project by foreign investors, giving a new hope to Kyrgyzstan and the entire Syr Darya basin.

The water-energy nexus in the post-independence Central Asia has almost totally concerned the enigma of Toktogul’s functioning mode, rendering Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan the main players of the game. The lasting standoff and the impossibility of reaching a satisfactory deal about a shared water management, or, at least, a more balanced water allocation, was due to politico-economic and geographical features of the region, which created a situation of dangerous equilibrium. Indeed, as for the former, at the end of the Soviet era, Uzbekistan resulted the most powerful of the Central Asian countries, overwhelming the upstream Kyrgyzstan. This condition of political, military and economic superiority has survived and even widened until present days. However, Kyrgyzstan inherited a strategically superior location, as in total control of geographical and infrastructural sources of water, a vital resource for the Uzbek economy. As analysed in chapter 1, the resulting setting is considered by scholars438 as presenting a high conflict potential, as evident from comparative studies. Indeed, upstream/downstream configuration has be displayed as the most prone to conflict among riverine relations. However, within such pattern, three variables are considered crucial for evaluating the stability of the dyad: military superiority, or the ability to impose own will to the counterpart; actual or perceived hostile management of the water resource by upstream country; downstream country’s need of the resource. In the case of Naryn- Syr Darya basin, and, in particular, of Kyrgyzstan-Uzbekistan dyad, the downstream riparian is by far the strongest one, with a superior military capacity439, but also an economic, energy and political power sufficient to threaten Kyrgyzstan even without the use of force. Moreover, an actual hostile attitude by the upstream country has often caused major tensions, as provoking huge damages to Uzbek agriculture and population. Eventually, the already examined features of the Uzbek economy classify the country as in dire need of the water resources, and of their timely provision. As observed in other major river basins, like the Nile, Jordan and Euphrates, this kind of

438 See: Homer-Dixon, “Environmental Scarcities and Violent Conflict”, 19; Gleditsch, Hegre and Toset, “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, 26. 439 Gall, Worldmark Encyclopedia of the Nations, 367, 666. 114 context leads to a deadly equilibrium, which prevent cooperation and, instead, favour a conflict relationship. Indeed, both the countries possess valuable weapons to use during negotiations and neither will give up defending its own position. In the case of Toktogul Reservoir, such weapons have been used as means of negotiations and instruments of retaliations on several occasions and have prevented the maximisation of the basin-wide water management’s efficiency. In the absence of a clear hegemon, like central Soviet government had used to be, unilateralism has prevailed, and neither player has had the force to end the dispute in its own favour. Escalating interstate rhetoric, often threatening the possibility of war-like degeneration, and drastic retaliations, which have heavily affected countries’ economies and population, have been the visible outcome of such stalemate. The re-emergence of Moscow as a prominent actor in the region, although not as the hegemon, has provided Kyrgyzstan with important means to enhance its position. Backed by a regional military organisation440, and with planned infrastructures that would enable it to be no longer dependent on Uzbek gas, and even to export energy, Kyrgyzstan has been trying to neutralise its counterpart’s elements of superiority. However, a further escalation of the tensions seemed to be prevented by the governmental change in Tashkent, and a new collaborative attitude by the riparian States. Kambarata-I and –II could represent the opportunity to combine both countries’ interests, without putting excessive pressure on the Toktogul Reservoir and the entire Syr Darya basin. Nevertheless, financial and technical conditions delay the verdict indefinitely.

4.2. STTs and Local Disputes: Case Studies From the Isfara, Sokh and Kasansai Basins.

The management of the main stem of the Syr Darya, and the issue of Toktogul Reservoir’s releases, seemed to monopolise the interstate relations as regarded water resources in post- independence Central Asia. All the major agreements analysed above dealt with water allocation of the Syr Darya and with the water-energy exchange, focusing on the activity of the Toktogul hydroelectric power plant. Nevertheless, as examined in chapter 3, an intense activity of negotiation had been carried out during the Soviet period about the secondary basins across the inter-republican borders. The issue of water allotment of the STTs among the riparian countries had been the focus subject of several agreements, protocols, as well as disputes, under the Soviet

440 The Collective Security Treaty Organisation is a Russian-led regional security bloc, founded in 1992 and formed by Russia, Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Uzbekistan suspended its membership in 2012. See: International Crisis Group, “Water Pressures in Central Asia”, 19. 115 rule. A fundamental distinction must be done between disputes over water allocation of the Syr Darya and of the secondary tributaries, in order to understand why they received different attention after the independencies. Given its hydrological features, the former has always been crucial for national strategies. Until 1991, Syr Darya’s waters, together with Naryn’s and Kara Darya’s ones, had been used to support the entire economic system of Central Asia as projected by Moscow, and water shares were studied to maximise downstream agriculture. After the independence, Uzbekistan, like the other downstream neighbours, inherited an economy that strongly relied on cotton growing, and an irrigation network that drew most of its water from the Naryn441. On the other side, Kyrgyzstan now owned the biggest facility in the basin, Toktogul Reservoir, which would be crucial for its national energy production442. Thus, water discharge of the Naryn-Syr Darya became immediately a central topic of interstate dialogue, as a vital resource for both economies. This explains why disputes over those rivers often reached the interstate level and catalysed most of the governments’ efforts in water diplomacy during 1990s, and why, instead, had caused little concern during Soviet times. Indeed, in the USSR, Republics’ autonomy in negotiations was limited to minor aspects of the accords, while the ultimate goals and the major economic benefits were established by central government443. On the contrary, local disputes had affected minor basins, also prior to 1991. Their lower discharge flows benefitted more restricted areas compared to the Naryn and Syr Darya. Therefore, primary stakeholders were not the Union and its economic policy, but Republics, local administrations and communities. Uzbek, Tajik and Kyrgyz SSRs could exert a higher degree of autonomy over those watercourses, and thus conflicting interests had already had the opportunity to emerge. However, Republican-level disputes were settled through mediation or coercion by Moscow. Instead, struggles over water shares among different users, at farm and village level, were frequent, and irrespective of the nationality of the parties. After the independence, a new variable added, namely international borders. Disputes occurring in sensitive borderlands were no longer mere disputes among competing users of the resource, but were a problem of resource allocation between independent States. As a consequence, in some cases, interstate tensions were triggered by such “ordinary” disputes, often aggravated by, or aggravating, territorial disputes as well. Nevertheless, the

441 Three out of the four biggest canals, namely the Great Ferghana Canal, the Great Andijan Canal and the North Ferghana Canal, originate from the Naryn. 442 In 2002, the Naryn-Syr Darya cascade controlled by the Toktogul Reservoir managed to cover 97% of the hydropower, which in turn represented 90% of the Kyrgyz total electric power generation. See: Antipova et al., “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, 506. 443 Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2740. 116 aforementioned scarce strategic and economic relevance of STTs at national level discouraged the adoption of comprehensive interstate agreements, like Protocol 1980 had been in Soviet times. On the contrary, States preferred to deal with the issue on a case by case basis, further complicating the confused framework of overlapping deals. The cases presented below are particularly relevant for the purpose of this thesis, as relevant examples of water-induced conflicts, in areas where Soviet infrastructural, institutional or border design had been decisive in setting the stage for such disputes.

4.2.1. The Isfara Basin

The Institutional Trend

Tajikistan was not a foreground player in the international water affairs of Ferghana Valley. Although it was in fact affected by the Toktogul’s releases, especially as regarded the functioning of its own Kairakkum Reservoir, it had a secondary political and economic role compared to Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. Between 1991 and 2002, it was the country that took part to the lowest number of events among the Syr Darya riparians, while the increase of this figure since 2002 was mainly due to the problems of the Amu Darya Basin and the major hydroelectric projects on Tajik tributaries, like the Rogun complex on the Vakhsh444. However, Tajikistan had been involved in numerous disputes along the borders of its present-day Soghd province, in particular alongside the Isfara river, which is the only Ferghana Valley’s STT that runs through the three neighbouring countries: Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan. In the Isfara basin, it is possible to individuate two conflict trends. On the one hand, a more institutional confrontation between all the riparian countries on water allocation has been almost continuous from 1946 until recent times, progressively moving towards diplomatic standoff and retaliations. On the other hand, a more violent history of disputes concerns Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, and their shared border on the western side of the Tajik enclave of Vorukh, between the Kyrgyz Aksai and the Tajik Tojikon towns. The common trait of these disputes is the tangled overlapping of border, infrastructure and hydrological setting, which allowed each country to control the water resource endowment of some neighbouring areas. As analysed in chapter 3, Isfara river had been the subject of numerous protocols on water allocation since 1946. Besides the already reported shares, the relevant element to be examined

444 From 1992 to 2001, Tajikistan participated in 42 events, Kyrgyzstan in 50, Uzbekistan in 57, and Kazakhstan in 61. See: Zakhirova, “The International Politics of Water Security in Central Asia”, 2002. 117 for understanding the conflict potential of this basin is the link between the Isfara river and the Great Ferghana Canal. Indeed, Tajikistan controlled two upstream sectors of the Isfara before it entered into Uzbekistan, namely in the Vorukh enclave and Isfara district, where the Rovot facility allowed the diversion of the flow into two canals towards Tajik Kanibadam and Uzbek Besharyk respectively. On the other side, Uzbekistan was in an upstream position vis-à-vis Tajikistan as concerned the BFK. Without any major flow-controlling infrastructure built yet, Tajikistan received from the BFK a flow of 8 m3/s in the vegetation period until 1953. After the enlargement works on the canal, this figure rose to 13 m3/s. As a consequence, both the countries were dependent upon watercourses for which they were in a reciprocal downstream position. A protocol of 1957 reported that the actual water deliveries were already disputed, and that both riparians withdrew water from the streams they controlled upstream (Tajikistan from Isfara and Uzbekistan from BFK) as a form of retaliation in case of alleged violations by the counterpart. The increase in Tajik share of the Isfara agreed in 1958 Protocol (from 50% in 1946 to 57% in 1958) seemed to be a consequence of the Uzbek inability to guarantee the 13 m3/s flow of the BFK445 . In 1969, a new variable intervened, and the issue of contested management of the Isfara’s water extended to Kyrgyzstan as well, which had historically been a minor actor of the basin (according to Protocol 1958, it received only 2% share of the river). The new disputed project of the Tortgul Reservoir gave it the actual control of almost 27% of the waters446, thus further reducing availability downstream. A highly inefficient series of unilateral actions to compensate such reduction were carried out by both Uzbekistan and Tajikistan, through the construction of expensive pump stations. The former built four stations to lift water from the BFK towards its branch of the Isfara. The latter, in response, built three facilities to feed its emptying section of the BFK through Kairakkum’s water. Overall, 1970s were years of tension and non-cooperation in the basin. After the complicated events of Tortgul’s project, described in chapter 3, Kyrgyz SSR began accumulating water into the reservoir disregarding Protocol 1958, reaching almost the same amount of water allocated to Tajikistan by 1976 and three fifths of the amount allocated to Uzbekistan by 1980. This artificial modification of the flow made the delicate equilibrium downstream be disrupted, with the aforementioned reciprocal retaliations both on the Isfara and the BFK.

445 Pak, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia”, 235. 446 Pak, Wegerich, “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley”, 235-236. 118

Protocol 1980 was the first cooperative event since 1958. However, its outcome447 was soon replaced by a new agreement, which allocated 17% of the water to Kyrgyz SSR, 48% to Tajik SSR, and 35% to Uzbek SSR. However, the solution was temporary. Indeed, for the lower and Uzbekistan (Kanibadam and Kirov, respectively), water would be provided from the BFK, and therefore new arrangements would be developed under the aegis of Moscow. In particular, starting in 1980, the central Ministry of Water Resources would determine the Kyrgyz share of the river, while Tajikistan and Uzbekistan would divide the remainder according to the proportion of 1958. In 1982, Kyrgyz share was fixed at 22%, while Tajikistan received 40% and Uzbekistan 38%. This pattern was observed even after Moscow stopped calculating the Kyrgyz quota in 1985. In May 1991, the USSR Ministry of Water Resources issued a new protocol. Kyrgyz share increased to 33%, while downstream countries divided the remaining flow according to 1982 scheme448. The numerous interactions and the increased involvement of Moscow in the definition of allocation patterns throughout the 1980s and until 1991, points out a growing instability and decreasing cooperative attitude by the riparian countries. The rising benefits to Kyrgyz SSR, in part result of compensation measures for the infrastructures built on its territory, were accepted by Tajikistan and Uzbekistan as far as they were in a politically subordinated position vis-à-vis the central government, and because Moscow financed all the facilities that allowed the factual water delivery downstream. After the independence, the 1991 protocol was soon disregarded. The practice of bilateral informal or even oral agreements developed. For instance, Tajikistan and Uzbekistan agreed to transfer the share of water due to Kanibadam to the BFK in Besharyk, in exchange for a constant and higher flow into the Tajik section of the BFK itself. In this way, Uzbekistan received between 60 and 150 million m3, or 12-30% of the annual average runoff of the river. However, the success of any deal on the Isfara river heavily depended on the functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir, its releases and the consequent runoff of Naryn and BFK. The continuous defections of the 1990s, and mainly the failure of 1998 Syr Darya agreement, deeply affected cooperation in the Isfara basin, leading to increasing hostile and unilateral actions. The main problem was that Tajikistan was not acknowledged as a downstream riparian country dependent on Toktogul. Therefore, it

447 37% of the Isfara allocated to Kyrgyz SSR, 55% to Tajik SSR, and 8% to Uzbek SSR. See: Kai Wegerich, Jusipbek Kazbekov, Firdavs Kabilov, Nozilakhon Mukhamedova, “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 28, no. 3 (2012), 536. 448 Pak, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia”, 237. 119 was not included in the energy barter449 and, as a consequence, had little power to claim an adequate discharge into the BFK. This led the Tajik authorities to compensate through their main water resource, namely the Isfara. From 2001 to 2010, Uzbekistan received between 2% and 8% of the annual average runoff of the river. The situation even worsened in the 2008-2010 period, when the Tajik Kanibadam district received an average of around 4 m3/s from the BFK. As a reaction, it built a timber dam on the Isfara and began diverting 23 m3/s into the Kanibadam Canal and then into BFK, leaving only 500 L/s to the Uzbeks450. However, Tajikistan’s behaviour is part of an institutional standoff that has seen retaliations and hostile acts growing in number compared to cooperative events.

Violence on the Border: The Case of Mekhnatobod-Aksai in Vorukh

The original tensions related to access to water and land have been aggravated by the territorial disputes and the overlapping border settings that different parties claim as valid. This had led to numerous disputes, both at interstate and community level. A hotspot of such confrontation was the western border of the present-day Vorukh enclave. Early violence already blew up in late 1930s, with deadly clashes among Kyrgyz herders and Tajik farmers. In 1949, Tajikistan claimed the territory of 14 Kyrgyz kolkhozy, and disputes went on for almost a decade. To this, the practice of long-term leasing between republican territories added, further complicating the boundary setting. In 1955, the Soviet Ministry of Agriculture conceded the leasing of 1,000 ha of a Kyrgyz sovkhoz to the Tajik kolkhoz Pravda. The concession would last until 1980 and only for pastures451. In 1958, a parity commission re-examined the entire border between Osh province, which by that time included the present-day Batken province, and Leninabad. The outcome largely favoured Kyrgyz SSR, but was never ratified by the Tajik Supreme Soviet, remaining thus void452. However, Kyrgyz continued to consider those lands as within its borders. This kind of situation led to high and long-lasting uncertainty, with frequent claims among villages, farms and users, mainly for the use of land and the related water resources. In 1967, kolkhoz Pravda, facing growing population, decided to build a canal on the leased lands and expand cultivations. As a consequence, Kyrgyz protested, and violent clashes took place in 1969, 1970 and 1975. In 1975, a joint commission solved the dispute dividing up the 1,000 ha into three roughly equal parts: one permanently

449 Tajikistan participated in the 1998 agreement with regard to the functioning of the Kairakkum Reservoir: during its the filling period, the country received an amount of electricity that would repay during the summer releases. See: Ibid., 238. 450 Ibid. 240-241. 451 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 108. 452 Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 193. 120 transferred to kolkhoz Pravda for the considerable ameliorations made on it, one returned to Kyrgyz sovkhoz, and the remainder left in leasing. No compensation was envisaged, but the Tajik kolkhoz should provide 450 L/s of the newly built canal Mekhnatobod-Aksai to the Kyrgyz sovkhoz. Water would serve also a new settlement founded next to the disputed lands: central Aksai. Nevertheless, kolkhoz Pravda did not manage to fulfil its duty soon after the agreement itself, and Kyrgyz government had to construct a pump station drawing water from its part of the Isfara. Notwithstanding it was actually sufficient, Kyrgyz kept on protesting for the violation, while Tajik party claimed that the obligation was unrealistic, since water was not enough for Vorukh neither. In 1989, a new dispute about use of the land between minor villages, downstream Kyrgyz Üch- Döbö and upstream Tajik Khodjai Alo, led the latter to close the canal, leaving four Kyrgyz villages without water for two months. Thus, the dispute evolved into a clash between the Aksai and Vorukh towns, urging military mobilisation by both Republics. Many people were killed and injured in the so-called “Ketmen war”, as fought by traditional hoes. A new commission produced yet another map, not accepted by Kyrgyz nor Tajik officials453. The decisive settlement of the dispute would be, instead, in 1991, with a meeting between the two presidents. However, Akayev did not attend it and the issue has never been solved454. Several violent events have happened on that section of the border. A second major water- induced clash happened again in Khodjai Alo with the block of the canal in 2008 but was soon solved by the mediation of the World Bank. In general, conflicts regarded not only water resources, but also the construction of roads455, plantation of trees, cultivation of lands and any other manmade intervention on disputed lands. Those acts are part of a largely planned strategy by the countries to increase their legitimacy in the borderlands through the “actual land use”, which has been a leading principle in settling border disputes after the collapse of the Union456. By favouring the establishment of settlements and by building infrastructures and ameliorations, the Republics try to “colonise” ambiguous borderlands.

However, the issue of territorial disputes has only created a situation of permanent uncertainty, which has heavily impacted on water management as well. Many water facilities lie in the so- called buffer zones, namely areas with no clear borders yet, and this prevent an adequate access

453 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 110. 454 Beshimov, Shozimov, Bakhadyrov, “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, 194. 455 Svetlana Valieva, “Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan: Land and Water Conflicts”, The Center for Climate & Security (January 2014), available at https://climateandsecurity.org/2014/01/16/kyrgyzstan-tajikistan-land-and-water-conflicts/. 456 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 114-115. 121 to the infrastructures for maintenance nor for operational purposes. That was the case of the Rovot control-facility on the Tajik-Uzbek border, which is situated in one of these areas, and whose location has prevented the access to the Uzbek experts, rendering the correct joint management of the Isfara flow impossible457. However, many of the skirmishes concerned directly the provision of water, whether it was the ultimate goal or only a pretext. And it was due to the typical infrastructural and geographical setting of Ferghana Valley’s borderlands, with upstream actors physically in control of the water resources and downstream ones totally dependent on the former. While this pattern could be observed at Republican level and has led to major energy crises and diplomatic stalemates, at local level the paradoxical border drawing of the NTD has reproduced the same situation in several areas. However, since local issues have not always caught the national governments’ attention, villagers have often resorted to violence in order to settle the crises.

4.2.2. The Sokh Basin: The Case of Southern Border of Sokh Enclave

The Institutional Trend

The third case regards a dispute that never reached national-level negotiation tables but was instead the subject of numerous agreements and conflicts among province authorities and local actors, either joint committees or villagers themselves. As analysed in chapter 3, the Sokh basin was frequently included in interstate discussions as a major water resource for the populous downstream Ferghana province. Moreover, the water allocation discourse has always been complicated by the ongoing territorial disputes, in particular by the presence of the large Uzbek enclave of Sokh. Like in the case of Vorukh on the Isfara river, it contributes to complicate the allocation enigma, putting the riparian States in a reciprocal position of power. Indeed, the river, and the numerous canals and springs belonging to the basin, originates in Kyrgyzstan, flows through the Uzbek enclave, re-enters Kyrgyz territory before running into the Uzbek Ferghana province. In this way, both Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan are downstream and upstream countries in different sectors of the river basin. Although the border disputes had already been a focal topic of inter-republican dialogue about the area of Sokh since 1920s, being a major source of tensions in the immediate aftermath of the 1927 final border delineation458, the water issue had not been relevant until late 1950s. By that time, negotiations

457 Pak, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia”, 241. 458 Actually, the decree of 3 May 1927 prescribed the return of the Sokh enclave to Kyrgyzstan. However, such decision lasted one day, as on 4 May it was annulled and the enclave, together with the Isfara district, were confirmed 122 for the Toktogul Reservoir had been initiated, and the problem of compensation led the Republics to agree on a different irrigation pattern in the Sokh basin. In particular, Kyrgyz SSR could expand irrigated cultivations into the Burgandy massif, in some lands lying on the right bank of the STT. As a consequence, irrigation would require water diversions from the river itself, which would be carried out through the construction of the Sokh Reservoir. Such theme became a constant in the 1960s negotiations and appeared in different agreements459. Nevertheless, the actual beginning of the project was delayed, and this caused the discontent of Kyrgyzstan, as well as a series of unilateral actions aiming to compensate it. The aggressive attitude of the upstream country resulted in requests of higher compensations for later projects, demand to have its leased lands back, and rapid expansion of irrigated area. This obliged downstream Uzbek territories to find alternative sources of water, mainly found through the construction of costly pump stations. The barely anarchic situation on the southern border in the 1970s460 encouraged the riparian countries to clearly set water shares on the STT. The aforementioned Protocol 1980 was the first document establishing precise quotas on the Sokh, fixing them at 90% for Uzbekistan and 10% for Kyrgyzstan461. As for many other STTs, the agreement was never observed by the parties and soon replaced by other deals. The agreement had to be implemented at the province level, and Ferghana and Osh officials renegotiated part of it, including the Sokh river. However, the Sokh Reservoir’s construction was officially started. Kyrgyz kept on demanding more water from all the STTs. This led to a new agreement in 1989, which considerably increased its share, from 10% (91 million m3) to 23% (296.5 million m3)462. The collapse of the Union had a similar impact on all the STT agreements. The official quotas were soon disregarded and withdrawals exceeding them were frequent on both sides. Until 2000, they were hardly ever respected463. Oral agreements at national and local level proliferated, and, as elsewhere, a shift away from the proportional allocation criterion in favour of parity gradually

as Uzbek. See: Koichiev, “Ethno-Territorial Claims in the Ferghana Valley During the Process of National Delimitation, 1924-7”, 55. 459 Also talks about the construction of the Andijan Reservoir envisaged Sokh Reservoir and the consequent increase of Kyrgyz irrigation as a form of compensation for the lands flooded by the reservoirs themselves. See: Soliev, Wegerich, Kazbekov, “The Costs of Benefit Sharing”, 2738. 460 As reported above, in the same years, problems of cooperation arose in the Isfara basin too, where the withdrawals in the Tortgul Reservoir were progressively reducing water available downstream. 461 Wegerich et al., “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, 536. 462 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 47. 463 Wegerich et al., “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, 535. 123 happened. In 2001, an oral agreement between Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, probably triggered by an exceptional drought, allocated Sokh’s waters equally between the countries464. Despite the absence of major inter-republican tensions about this river, the trend was one of non- cooperation. The works of the Sokh Reservoir, to be financed by Uzbekistan in order to compensate Kyrgyzstan for previous projects, were stopped soon after the independence, and increasing withdrawals by both sides put further pressure on the already stressed on the STTs.

Violence on the Border: The Case of Kara Suu Spring

Disputes along the Sokh River never triggered State-level retaliations between the Republics like in the case of the Isfara basin. Indeed, there were no major facilities that could allow a substantial reduction of the flow downstream, or massive diversions of water towards certain lands. However, several users’ disputes took place, in conflicts that were usually settled by local communities themselves. The most relevant of those disputes was the one regarding the Kara Suu Spring on the south- western border of the Sokh enclave. There, three small settlements are located: the Uzbek Khush’iar downstream, and the Kyrgyz Sogment and Charbak upstream. The villages are located on the left bank of the Sokh river, which in that area is difficult to access because flowing at the bottom of a gorge. The main water sources are two springs originating in Kyrgyzstan: Ak Suu (250- 300 L/s) and Kara Suu (80-100 L/s). The irrigation network is made up of the Kyshtut-Khush’iar canal, with a capacity of 250-300 L/s, and three pump stations in Khush’iar. All those infrastructures were built after the establishment of the borders, namely in 1940s and 1970s respectively. Two of the pump stations lift water from the Sokh up to the former canal, while the third one draws water from the canal to the town of Khush’iar. A further canal, the Tash Aryk, channels Kara Suu’s waters, allocated to Charbak and Khush’iar through a common pipeline passing through the Uzbek sector465. While the bulk of the water used for irrigation purposes for the three settlements is provided by the Kyshtut-Khush’iar canal, disputes arose over the spring water. Until 2002, allocation used to be decided by gentlemen’s agreements among local inhabitants, which conceded spring waters on rotation. In particular, in a nine-day round, Khush’iar could use it for seven days in a row, and Sogment-Charbak for the remaining two. However, due to the decreased quantity reaching their village, Charbak’s dweller feared that

464 Wegerich, Soliev, Akramova, “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, 49. 465 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 25-27. 124 midstream Khush’iar withdrew part of their quota, and Khush’iar distrusted Sogment in turn. Tensions escalated in April 2002, with some minor clashes. The confrontation led to the intervention of Ferghana and Batken province officials, which arranged a new allocation schedule, foreseeing a seven-day cycle: five days to Khush’iar, and two to Sogment-Charbak. This agreement was seen as highly unfair by Khush’iar, as actually unmotivated, since it had a three-time larger population than the combined Sogment and Charbak466. This fostered resentment, and quotas were annually contested by the village. In May 2005, an aggression to a Charbak youth passing through the Uzbek sector led to a new escalation, with many injured people467. However, it was soon mitigated thanks to the background work of the NGO Mercy Corps, which since 2002 had favoured inter-community dialogue and financed infrastructural ameliorations. In particular, a Sogment-Charbak pipeline was built, bypassing the Uzbek sector and avoiding trust problems468. The Kara Suu case presents the typical features of transboundary Soviet irrigation networks. The power of upstream countries, together with increasing nationalistic stances, caused a crisis that, again, finds its roots in Soviet miscalculations. The setting up of an integrated irrigation system and a regulation based on oral agreements among ethnically diverse communities469, totally ignored the existence of a formal boundary and the possibility that it could become an international one. Indeed, with the growing nationalism, and a worsened economic situation, of post-independence, distrust and lack of enforcement mechanisms undermined the deals and led to their collapse. Actually, the subsequent intergovernmental agreements represented a remarkable exception to the history of Sokh valley, and, in general, of post-independence STT basins, since it detached from the trend of informal and oral ones, establishing a written accord470.

4.2.3. Operation and Maintenance in Transboundary Facilities: The Case of the Kasansai Reservoir

The issue of the ownership of certain water infrastructures, located in the borderlands around the valley, has resulted as particularly problematic after the collapse of the Soviet Union. As previously asserted, the construction of reservoirs was often financed and owned by the country that would

466 Madeleine Reeves, Border Work: Spatial Lives of the State in Rural Central Asia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2014). 467 Mark Goldenbaum et al., USAID’s Peaceful Communities Inititative (Almaty: USAID, 2006), Annex A. 468 Bichsel, Conflict Transformation in Central Asia, 28. 469 Sogment and Charbak are 100% Kyrgyz, while Khush’iar is 100% Tajik. See: Goldenbaum et al., USAID’s Peaceful Communities Inititative, Annex A. 470 Reeves, Border Work: Spatial Lives of the State in Rural Central Asia. 125 actually be benefitted by them. Therefore, in many cases, Uzbekistan was assigned the property of infrastructures that lied on Kyrgyz territory, as well as their operational management, including maintenance471. During the Soviet period, with open borders and an undisputable imposed water management scheme, which favoured downstream users, such ownership pattern were never contested, and Kyrgyz complaints limited to the compensation measures for the land losses. After the collapse of the Union and the materialisation of international borders, two problems arose. Kyrgyzstan, within whose borders such reservoirs were often situated, started claiming territorial sovereignty over them. On the contrary, Uzbekistan upheld its own legal and customary rights, dating back to the period of construction472. The issue was further complicated by the territorial disputes that often involved the area of the contested infrastructures, making even its territorial belonging difficult to assess. A second matter regarded operation and maintenance of the transboundary facilities whose property was not disputed. In those cases, as under the Soviet rule, costs and factual implementation of the O&M activities were charged on the owner country. Since such reservoirs were located some kilometres beyond the border, water technicians had to pass the frontier and transit on foreign territory. Although this continued not to be a major hurdle soon after the independence, in the years of strained interstate relations it seriously hampered the regular functioning of the facilities. In particular, in three periods border controls represented a great obstacle for operations on transboundary structures: 1998-1999, when Uzbekistan increased security on the frontiers due to the terrorist threat; 2001, when tension escalated due to a severe drought; 2005, the year of the Andijan massacre473. Since then, controls have never eased to previous levels, and even led to nearly closing the frontier in July 2010, after the Osh ethnic clashes spurred thousands of refugees to flow into Uzbekistan. The consequent reduced mobility rendered reaching the reservoir for O&M risky and costly. Workers were often denied the passage, and bureaucracy caused huge delays in the interventions. In this context, cases of technicians arrested while crossing the border informally474, and the lengthy bureaucratic

471Wegerich et al., “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, 532. 472 Pak, Wegerich, “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley”, 235. 473 In 2005, a revolt against the authoritarian policies of Islom Karimov and the arresto of twenty-three local businessmen took place in Andijan, in the wake of the successful Tulip Revolution in neighbouring Kyrgyzstan. However, Karimov ordered to open the fire on the protestors, leaving more than 700 people dead, including women and children. See: Mansur Mirovalev, “Uzbekistan: 10 years after the Andijan massacre”, Al Jazeera (12 May 2015), available at https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2015/05/150511123115026.html. 474 Two workers were arrested in Kyrgyz territory, near the town of Vuodil, while trying to avoid controls to reach the Khalmiyon flood-controlling dam. See: Ibid. 126 procedures needed to require permissions, often discouraged Uzbekistan to carry out an adequate upkeep475. The most violent case of dispute over a reservoir presenting such characteristics was the Kasansai Reservoir, in the northern range of Chatkal, 13 kilometres within Kyrgyz borders. As reported in chapter 3, this reservoir was completed in 1954, and financed mostly by Uzbek resources476. Accordingly, the management of the facility had been assigned to Uzbekistan. After the collapse of the Union, the country did not give up its rights on the reservoir, and continued to directly control its operations, with the acquiescence of Kyrgyzstan, careful not to undermine relations with its neighbour. Nevertheless, in an inter-republican agreement of 1992, the Central Asian countries had agreed to pass the jurisdiction of the objects built in Soviet times to the countries that physically hosted them. Such provision had been actually observed by Uzbekistan, which had taken control of the facilities lying within its borders, while Kyrgyzstan had delayed its action on several structures. In 2011, Kyrgyz Parliament finally approved a series of resolutions on the appropriation of different infrastructures located on its territory, but operated by other countries. While successes were yielded on the border with Tajikistan, Uzbekistan fiercely defended its rights over the Kasansai, by regularly guarding the structure477. Kasansai was particularly important for the agriculture of the densely populated province of Namangan, and Uzbek officials needed to secure its water supplies. Conflict erupted in March 2016. After the Kyrgyz decision to nationalise the reservoir and to impede access to Uzbek delegations by militarily guarding the facility, Uzbekistan deployed its troops in the contested area, trying to reasserting its ownership478. Parties soon sought an agreement, and on 26 March Uzbekistan withdrew its forces479. However, the status of the object was by no means clear. A new escalation took place in August, when Kyrgyz special forces tried to occupy the reservoir, clashing with Uzbek guards. In response, on 24 August, two Uzbek helicopters, loaded with armed policemen, landed on the disputed mountain of Ungar- Too, in the area surrounding Kasansai, where a TV and radio transmitter was located. Four Kyrgyz

475 Wegerich et al., “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, 534. 476 Durham University, “Escalation in border dispute between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan”, Boundary news (7 April 2016), available at https://www.dur.ac.uk/ibru/news/boundary_news/?itemno=27696&rehref=%2Fibru%2F&resubj=Boundary+news+He adlines. 477 Cholpon Orozobekova, “New Standoff Between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan”, Eurasia Daily Monitor Volume 13, no. 146 (13 September 2016), available at https://jamestown.org/program/new-standoff-between-kyrgyzstan-and- uzbekistan/. 478 Hashimova, “Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan Undertake Resolving Their Water Disputes”. 479 Durham University, “Escalation in border dispute between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan”. 127 workers were detained by the armed Uzbeks480. Uzbekistan was allegedly claiming to regain access to and control of the reservoir. In the meanwhile, the issue had acquired nationalistic shapes, and pressure to oust a small Uzbek settlement that had developed near the facility was exerted by local Kyrgyz481. The matter was not solved until October 2017. In his visit to Tashkent, Kyrgyz President Almazbek Atambayev met its Uzbek counterpart to sign an agreement that would finally settle the Kasansai dispute. The agreement, ratified by Kyrgyz Parliament on 13 December 2017, envisaged Bishkek’s total control of the reservoir, but an open access to it by both countries. Moreover, Uzbekistan would be entitled to 92% of the water, while the narrow Kyrgyz farmer community to the remaining 8%. The countries would share the 230-290 million dollars of maintenance costs in proportion to their usage rights482. The Kasansai case represented a sui generis case of local dispute. Indeed, unlike the other peripheral tensions, it did not remain a secondary issue, dealt with by local authorities, but reached national attention, the mobilisation of military forces and a direct involvement of the Presidents themselves. The aggressive attitude adopted by Uzbekistan since peaceful time, by guarding the reservoir, is emblematic of how securing access to a transboundary reservoir was considered a priority, in a period of harsh frontier controls. The confused ownership right framework inherited from the Soviet era added to an already tense situation and contested borderlands, which made a populous area like Namangan totally rely on a highly insecure water resource like Kasansai. The resulting agreement still missed to regulate some important aspects, like the actual legal status of the reservoir and the presence of Uzbek guards483.

Conclusion

The chapter has analysed the history of major interstate water-induced disputes in the borderlands of the Ferghana Valley, trying to identifying a linkage between the weaknesses of post-independence regional system and the Soviet multifaceted legacies. Two macro-categories have been individuated: Republican-level and local disputes. Such distinction has been mainly due to the catalysing effect the Toktogul issue exerted on governmental efforts in the last three

480 Nurjamal Djanibekova, “Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan Near Reservoir Agreement”, Eurasianet (13 December 2017), available at https://eurasianet.org/kyrgyzstan-uzbekistan-near-reservoir-agreement. 481 Orozobekova, “New Standoff Between Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan”. 482 Sidney Balaban, “The Competition Over Kasan-Sai Reservoir”, ERA Institute (26 March 2018), available at https://www.erainstitute.org/the-competition-over-kasan-sai-reservoir/. 483 Ibid. 128 decades, given its huge impact on national economies. Local disputes hardly ever drew the attention of high-ranking republican officials, although peripheral borderlands and STT basins were affected by similar chronic weaknesses as Syr Darya’s main stem was. Indeed, even there, the Soviet miscalculations in projecting coherent infrastructural, border and water policies, heavily impacted on macro and micro interstate dynamics, affecting both day-to-day villages’ life and neighbouring provinces’ economic interests. In general, a trend of conflict over water resources has been reported, and presented as tightly linked to Soviet-time decisions. Major efforts of cooperation in the field of transboundary water management have usually been frustrated by underlying weaknesses and contradictions. In particular, the Kyrgyzstan-Uzbekistan dyad inherited a set of conditions that, according to the aforementioned comparative studies and the reported analyses, render its interstate relations highly prone to conflict rather than cooperation. However, as stated at the beginning of this thesis, the term conflict does not necessarily entail open armed confrontation. It is rather a concept that ranges from hostile behaviours and rhetoric, to localised violence and minor clashes. The overall balance of the dyad, with military and economic superiority on one side, and strategic and geographical one on the other side, has always prevented major escalations in terms of conventional conflicts. Nevertheless, it has also hampered an effective cooperation. The progressive empowerment of Kyrgyz position, backed by Moscow, and the death of Karimov seems to have inaugurated a new era on the Toktogul front, as well as for the border setting. Nonetheless, highly imbalance territorial configurations, with geographical “hegemons”, controlling water resources, and downstream communities, relying on those resources for their own survival, are disseminated all over the valley’s boundary, and triggers a climate of instability, at least at users level. In some cases, new infrastructures have been proposed as solutions to some disputes (among the examined ones, Kambarata-I for the Toktogul dispute, Sogment-Charbak canal for the Sokh dispute), as a means to circumvent the badly planned Soviet schemes. However, elsewhere, Soviet legacy seems irreversible, tightly linking ethnically diverse communities belonging to different States, in a tangled network of shared rivers and facilities. By far, in most of those cases, this had led to stalemate, conflict and bilateral losses, in a typical prisoner’s dilemma.

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Conclusion

In the last months, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan have been easing their tense relations, trying to cooperate on the management of Syr Darya’s waters. Although it seems a remarkable progress in the history of regional water politics, several elements remain still unresolved and represent a continuous threat to stability. The pending issue of property rights over certain transboundary facilities, like in the case of Kasansai Reservoir, which have continued to be operated by Uzbekistan for the whole post-independence period, has never been comprehensively dealt with. The confused basin-specific legal frameworks, made up of overlapping formal, informal and even oral agreements, render any allocation pattern uncertain and prone to be disputed. An inter- republican efficient and lasting accord over the functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir, seems lacking the necessary inter-governmental trust that the diachronic nature of the deal would require. Ferghana Valley’s water conflict go beyond single river basins and related agreements, albeit major ones like the Syr Darya. As asserted throughout this thesis, and as demonstrated especially in chapter four, all the aforementioned issues are part of a wider problem, made up of different aspects, and which replicates in similar forms both at inter-republican level and all along the boundaries: Soviet legacies. The importance of the historical foundations of present-day water issues in the Ferghana Valley cannot be ignored when assessing the conflict potential of regional water setting. As previously displayed, at least four Soviet, and, in some cases, even Tsarist, policies, namely cotton development, irrigation planning, border delimitation, and water allocation, are to be held responsible for setting the stage to post-independence conflict scenario. They contributed in different ways. Cotton can be deemed the founding element of the present water setting. Its development was fostered as early as 1850s, and was soon sided by an equally huge irrigation effort. The arid climate of many areas of Central Asia, the high water requirements of the crop, and the inefficiency of outdated infrastructures, prompted an almost perennial crisis in water demand, which in turn put further pressure on riverine resources. Both Russian Empire and USSR became to a large extent dependent on ever higher harvests from the region, while for local economy it represented the only opportunity to survive and attract investments from the centre. Cotton development is the premise for the regional dependence on rivers.

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Irrigation planning did not represent a particular problem until the construction of reservoirs. Indeed, as for the Ferghana Valley, before it, irrigation network lied mostly in Uzbek territory. Reservoirs maximised the utility of rivers for irrigation purposes, but take into little account border setting, as designed in 1920s. Therefore, a paradoxical situation of geographically Kyrgyz facilities serving Uzbek fields sentenced the total dependence of Uzbek economy on Kyrgyz flow control. While the responsibilities of the NTD are evident in severing natural units, like small river basins, irrigation planning of post-WWII period is to be blamed for its conscious irrational allocation of the infrastructures. Finally, water allocation was perfectly coherent with the aforementioned economic interest in cotton growing, disregarding the physical arrangement of irrigation system. However, the resulting scheme thought by Moscow was overly unbalanced in favour of Uzbekistan, and could resist only under certain circumstances, as explained below. The hypothesis of continuity between Soviet (and Tsarist) choices and water disputes between modern Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan is confirmed especially by the analysis of post-war events. Indeed, 1950s and 1960s can be considered the key decades for the present analysis. In fact, only then, all the theoretical speculations about conflict-prone geographical settings, namely upstream/downstream relations, materialised, with the acquisition of technical ability to control Ferghana’s STTs. However, while this factor activated the destabilising nature of the dyad, giving to Kyrgyzstan a powerful tool over Uzbekistan, another variable neutralised it: Moscow’s authority. This variable is fundamental for the analysis. Actually, when examining the tensions of 1990s on the main stem of the Syr Darya, the water-energy barter emerged as the main subject of the disputes. However, while the infrastructural and institutional premises have remained unchanged compared to Soviet times, the political and economic discontinuities have proved to be decisive. Indeed, the elements that triggered the failure of Almaty 1992, which barely confirmed the Soviet pattern of water management, were the unilateral defections of the countries due to autonomous economic policies. As a consequence, the disintegration of a unitary governance, both in terms of economic planning and political enforcement, can be seen as a pivotal variable in the present reasoning. As soon as the “supranational” power of Moscow disappeared, the system entered its crisis. This highlights a second aspect, namely that the critical weaknesses of the post- independence period already existed under the Soviet system. They were only suppressed by the interventionism of the central government. In some cases the role of mediator played by it, both in water and territorial disputes, was not decisive, like in the case of 1958 Tajik-Kyrgyz disputes in

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Isfara-Batken, which was left unresolved, or the Ferghana crisis of 1958, which did produce only a unilateral declaration by the Kyrgyz SSR in 1961. However, even when the result was not a valid agreement triggered through mediation or coercion, the intervention of Moscow discouraged any further conflict and favoured a status of acquiescence. Nevertheless, the legacy of a system based on frequent remedial actions by an authoritative hegemon, could not offer any sustainable alternative solution. Without shared and agreed legal bases, all those frozen disputes re-emerged. With the Republics struggling to find a solution for their shattered economies, the growing nationalisms, and in the absence of predetermined political and economic choices, unilateralism and distrust prevailed. A similar situation could be observed at local level, all along the borders, in the outskirts of the valley. There, energy politics and diplomacy left the stage to user level disputes, where they have usually affected day-to-day life, ending in violent clashes for the control of the resources. Also in this case, Soviet infrastructural planning has resulted decisive in setting the stage for unstable users relations. Upstream communities have used water as a weapon in ethnic fights or as a means to force downstream ones to cede lands. More often, the usage of river or canal waters has been the primary source of the conflict, arising from poor management, lack of agreements or distrust among the transboundary users. The situation of stalemate seems now to be on the right path towards a more cooperative attitude. However, the tensions that have characterised Ferghana Valley’s water politics cannot be ignored, and the accurate analysis of their historical roots must be taken into account for a correct assessment of any future scenario. The persistence of the structural weaknesses inherited by the Soviet policies are a serious threat to any deep or long-term cooperation, since, given the natural limits of regional basins in terms of annual discharge, the conflicting interests of the country at stake exert opposite pressures on the resource. A tug-of-war is a concrete possibility in any scenario, since both the countries present the necessary tools to bend the deal in their own favour. However, they have also their sides open to any retaliation, be it a cut off in water or energy supply. And this is the heavy legacy of the disintegration of what once was just a region within the Soviet Union, forced to serve the economic interests of Moscow.

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FAO, IFAD, UNICEF, WFP and WHO. The State of Food Security and Nutrition in the World 2017. Building resilience for peace and food security. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2017.

Gall, Timothy L. Worldmark Encyclopedia of the Nations, Vol. 4 “Asia & Oceania”. Farmington Hills: Thomson Gale, 2004.

Gerace, Michael P. Military Power, Conflict and Trade. London: Frank Cass, 2004.

Gleick, Peter H. et al. The World’s Water 2002-2003: The Biennal Report On Freshwater Resources. Washington: Island Press, 2002.

Homer-Dixon, Thomas F. and Blitt, Jessica. Ecoviolence: Links among Environment, Population, and Security. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998.

Lowi, Miriam R. Water and power: The politics of a scarce resource in the Jordan River basin. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Khan Azizur R.; Ghai, Dharam. Collective Agriculture & Rural Development in Soviet Central Asia. London: The Macmillan Press Ltd, 1979.

Marsden, Simon; Brandon, Elizabeth. Transboundary Environmental Governance in Asia: Practice and Prospects with the UNECE Agreements. Northampton: Edward Elgar Publishing, 2015.

McCauley, Martin. Khrushchev and the Development of Soviet Agriculture. London: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 1976.

134

Obertreis, Julia. Imperial Desert Dreams: Cotton Growing and Irrigation in Central Asia, 1860-1991. Göttingen: V&R unipress GmbH, 2017.

Pierce, Richard A. Russian Central Asia 1867-1917: A Study in Colonial Rule. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1960.

Reeves, Madeleine. Border Work: Spatial Lives of the State in Rural Central Asia. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2014.

Roudik, Peter L. The History of the Central Asian Republics. Westport: Greenwood Press, 2007.

Rywkin, Michael. Moscow’s Muslim Challenge: Soviet Central Asia. Armonk: M. E. Sharpe, Inc., 1990.

Steklov, Vladimir J. Electrification in the U.S.S.R. Moscow: Foreign Languages Pub. House, 1965.

Vaughn, Jacqueline. Conflicts Over Natural Resources: A Reference Handbook. Santa Barbara: ABC- CLIO, Inc., 2007.

Weinthal, Erika. State Making and Environmental Cooperation: Linking Domestic and International Politics in Central Asia. Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2002.

WFP. At the Root of the Exodus: food insecurity, conflict and international migration. Rome: World Food Programme, 2017.

WHO, WEDC. How much water is needed in emergencies. Geneva: World Health Organization, 2013.

Worthington, E. Barton. Arid Land Irrigation in Developing Countries: Environmental Problems and Effects. Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1977.

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135

Chapters in Book

Abashin, Sergey; Abdullaev, Kamoludin; Abdullaev, Ravhsan; Koichev, Arslan. “Soviet Rule and the Delineation of Borders in the Ferghana Valley, 1917-1930”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, edited by Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

Abdullaev Kamoludin; Nazarov, Ravshan. “The Ferghana Valley Under Stalin, 1929-1953”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, edited by Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

Abdullaev, Ravshan; Khotamov, Namoz; Kenensariev, Tashmanbet. “Colonial Rule and Indigenous Responses, 1860-1917”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, edited by Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

Abdurakhimova, N. A. “Tsarist Russia and Central Asia”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, edited by Chahryar Adle. Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005.

Beshimov, Baktybek; Shozimov, Pulat; Bakhadyrov, Murat. “A New Phase in the History of the Ferghana Valley, 1992-2008”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. by Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

Bichsel, Christine; Mukhabbatov, Kholnazar; Sherfedinov, Lenzi. “Land, Water, and Ecology”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, edited by Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

Cosgrove, William J., and Rijsberman, Frank R., for the World Water Council. “The Use of Water Today”, in World Water Vision, 4-21. London: Earthscan Publications Ltd, 2000.

Coppersmith, Jonathan. “GOELRO: The Creation of a Dream”, in The Electrification of Russia, 1880- 1926, edited by Jonathan Coppersmith. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992.

136

Dinar, Shlomi. “Water Wars? Conflict, Cooperation, and Negotiation over Transboundary Water”, in Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation?, edited by Velma I. Grover. Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007, 21-38.

FAO. “The use of water in agriculture”, in Agriculture, food and water. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2003.

Fourniau, V. and Poujol, C. “The States of Central Asia (second half of nineteenth century to early twentieth century)”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, edited by Chahryar Adle. Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005.

Gleditsch, Nils P., Hegre, Håvard and Toset, Hans P. W. “Conflicts in Shared River Basins”, in Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation?, edited by Velma I. Grover, 39-66. Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007, 41-42.

Grover, Velma I. “Introduction”, in Water: A Source of Conflict or Cooperation?, edited by Velma I. Grover, 3-19. Enfield: Science Publishers, 2007.

Horsman, Stuart. “Water in Central Asia: Regional Cooperation or Conflict?”, in Central Asian Security: The New International Context, edited by Roy Allison and Lena Jonson. Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2001.

Khamidov, M. Kh. “Experience of Coordinated Water Resources Use of the Syrdarya River Basin States”, in Water and Food Security in Central Asia, edited by C. Madramootoo and V. Dukhovny. Dordrecht: Springer, 2011.

Koichiev, Arslan. “Ethno-Territorial Claims in the Ferghana Valley During the Processo f National Delimitation, 1924-7”, in Central Asia: Aspects of Transition, edited by Tom Everett-Heath. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003.

137

Kreutzmann, Hermann. “From Upscaling to Rescaling: Transforming the Ferghana Basin from Tsarist Irrigation to Water Management for an Independent Uzbekistan”, in Society-Water- Technology: A Critical Appraisal of Major Water Engineering Projects, edited by Reinhard Hüttl et al. New York: Springer Open, 2016.

Megoran, Nick. “The Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan Boundary: Stalin’s Cartography, Post-Soviet Geography”, in Borderlines and Borderlands: Political Oddities at the Edge of the Nation-State, edited by Alexander C. Diener and Joshua Hagen. Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2010.

Nazarov, Ravshan; Shozimov, Pulat. “The Ferghana Valley in the Eras of Khrushchev and Brezhnev”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, ed. Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

O’Neill, Gerard. “Land and Water ‘Reform’ in the 1920s: Agrarian revolution or social engineering?”, in Central Asia: Aspects of Transition, edited by Tom Everett-Heath. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003.

Poujol, C. and Fourniau, V. “Trade and the Economy”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, edited by Chahryar Adle. Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005.

Rosefielde, Steven. “Glossary”, in Red Holocaust. New York: Routledge, 2010.

Saldov, Abdukhakhor; Anarbev, Abdulkhamid; and Gorlyacheva, Valentina. “The Ferghana Valley: The Pre-Colonial Legacy”, in Ferghana Valley: The Heart of Central Asia, edited by Frederick S. Starr. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2011.

Stalin, Joseph. “‘The Nation,” in Nationalism, edited by John Hutchinson and Anthony Smith. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994.

138

Tabyshalieva, A. “Social Structures in Central Asia”, in History of Civilizations of Central Asia: Volume VI Towards the contemporary period: from mid-nineteenth to the end of the twentieth century, edited by Chahryar Adle. Paris: UNESCO Publishing, 2005.

Scientific Articles

Antipova, Elena; Zyryanov, Alexi; McKinney, Daene; Savitsky, Andre. “Optimization of Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses”, Water International 27, no. 4 (2002): 504-516.

Bernauer, Thomas. “Climate change and international water conflict in Central Asia”, Journal of Peace Research 49, no. 1 (2012): 227-239.

Borthakur, Anchita. “AN ANALYSIS OF THE CONFLICT IN THE FERGHANA VALLEY”, Asian Affairs 48, no. 2 (2017), 334-350.

Brain, Stephen. “The Great Stalin Plan for the Transformation of Nature”, Environmental History 15, no. 4 (2010): 670-700.

Buttino, Marco. “Study of the economic crisis and depopulation in Turkestan, 1917-1920”, Central Asian Survey 9, no. 4 (1990): 59-74.

Carlisle, Donald S. “The Uzbek Power Elite: Politburo and Secretariat (1938–83)”, Central Asian Survey 5, no. 3-4 (1986): 91–132.

Dash, P. L. “Central Asian Republics: Discord over Riverine Resources”, Economic and Political Weekly 38, no. 6 (2003): 522-524.

Durgin, Frank A. Jr. “The Virgin Lands Programme 1954-1960”, Soviet Studies 13, no. 3 (1962): 255- 280.

Giordano, Mark, et al. “A review of the evolution and state of transboundary freshwater treaties.” International Environmental Agreements: Politics, Law, and Economics 13, no. 2 (2013): 3-22.

139

Grey, David and Sadoff, Caludia W. “Sink or Swim? Water security for growth and development”, Water Policy 9 (2007): 545-571.

Hoekstra, Arjen Y. “Virtual Water Trade: Proceedings of the International Expert Meeting in Virtual Water Trade”, Value of Water Research Report Series, no. 12 (2003).

Holquist, Peter. “In Accord with State Interests and the People’s Wishes: The Technocratic Ideology of Imperial Russia’s Resettlement Administration”, Slavic Review 69, no. 1 (2010): 151- 179.

Homer-Dixon, Thomas F. “Environmental Scarcities and Violent Conflict: Evidence from Cases”, International Security 19, no. 1 (1994): 5-40.

Joffe, Muriel. “Autocracy, Capitalism and Empire: The Politics of Irrigation”, The Russian Review 54, no. 3 (1995): 365-388.

Lewis, Robert A. “The Irrigation Potential of Soviet Central Asia”, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 52, no. 1 (1962): 99-114.

Lipovsky, Igor. “The Central Asian Cotton Epic”, Central Asian Survey 14, no. 4 (1995): 529-542.

Matley, Ian M. “The Golodnaya Steppe: A Russian Irrigation Venture In Central Asia”, Geographical Review 60, no. 3 (1970): 328-346.

Megoran, Nick. “Rethinking the Study of International Boundaries: A Biography of the Kyrgyzstan- Uzbekistan Boundary”, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 102, no. 2 (2012): 464- 481.

Micklin, Philip P. “The Aral Sea Crisis and Its Future: An Assessment in 2006”, Eurasian Geography and Economics 47, no. 5 (2006): 546-567.

140

Nove, Alec. “Soviet Agriculture under Brezhnev”, Slavic Review 29, no. 3 (1970): 379-410.

Olcott, Martha B. “Central Asia’s Catapult to Independence”, Foreign Affairs 71, no. 3 (1992): 108- 130.

Pak, Mariya; Wegerich, Kai. “Competition and Benefit Sharing in the Ferghana Valley: Soviet Negotiations on Transboundary Small Reservoir Construction”, Central Asian Affairs 1, no. 2 (2014): 225-246.

Pak, Mariya, Wegerich, Kai, and Kazbekov, Jusipbek. “Re-examining conflict and cooperation in Central Asia: a case study from the Isfara River, Ferghana Valley”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 30, no. 2 (2014): 230-245.

Peel, Murray. C.; Finlayson, Brian L.; McMahon, T. A. "Updated world map of the Köppen–Geiger climate classification", Hydrol. Earth Syst. Sci. 11 (2008): 1633–1644.

Penati, Beatrice. “The Cotton Boom and the Land Tax in Russian Turkestan (1880s-1915)”, Kritika: Explorations in Russian and Eurasian History 14, no. 4 (2013): 741-774.

Postel, Sandra L., and Wolf, Aaron T. “Dehydrating Conflict”, Foreign Policy (September-October 2001): 60-67.

Rakhmatullaev, Shavkat. “Water reservoirs, irrigation and sedimentation in Central Asia: A first-cut assessment for Uzbekistan”, Environmental Earth Sciences 68, no. 4 (2013): 985-998.

Smakhtin, Vladimir. “Basin Closure and Environmental Flow Requirements”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 24, no. 2 (2008): 227-233.

Soliev, Ilkhom; et al. “Dealing with “Baggage” in Riparian Relationship on Water Allocation: A Longitudinal Comparative Study from the Ferghana Valley”, Ecological Economics 142 (2017): 148- 162.

141

Soliev, Ilkhom; Wegerich, Kai; Kazbekov, Jusipbek. “The Costs of Benefit Sharing: Historical and Institutional Analysis of Shared Water Development in the Ferghana Valley, the Syr Darya Basin”, Water 7, no. 6 (2015): 2728-2752.

Spoor, Max; Krutov, Anatoly. “The 'Power of Water' in a Divided Central Asia”, Perspectives on Global Development and Technology 2, no. 3-4 (2003): 593-614.

Stucki, Virpi; Sojamo, Suvi. “Nouns and Numbers of the Water-Energy-Security Nexus in Central Asia”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 28, no. 3 (2012): 399-418.

Votruba, Ladislav; Broža, Vojtěch. “Water Management in Reservoirs”, Developments in Water Science 33. New York: Elsevier Publishing Company, 1989.

Wegerich, Kai. “Coping with disintegration of a river-basin management system: multi-dimensional issues in Central Asia”, Water Policy 6 (2004): 335-344.

Wegerich, Kai. “Water resource in Central Asia: regional stability or patchy make-up?”, Central Asia Survey 30, no. 2 (2011): 275-290.

Wegerich, Kai; Kazbekov, Jusipbek; Kabilov, Firdavs; Mukhamedova, Nozilakhon. “Meso-level Cooperation on Transboundary Tributaries and Infrastructures in the Ferghana Valley”, International Journal of Water Resources Development 28, no. 3 (2012): 525-543.

Wegerich, Kai; Soliev, Ilkhom; Akramova, Indire. “Dynamics of water reallocation and cost implications in the transboundary setting of Ferghana Province”, Central Asian Survey 35, no.1 (2016): 38-60.

Whitman, John. “Turkestan Cotton in Imperial Russia”, The American Slavic and East European Review 15, no. 2 (1956): 190-205.

Wolf, Aaron T. “Criteria for equitable allocations: the heart of international water conflict”, Natural Resources Forum 23, no. 1 (1999), 3-30.

142

Sitography

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Bransten, Jeremy. “Kyrgyzstan/Uzbekistan: The Politics of Water”, RadioFreeEurope RadioLiberty (Bishkek, 9 October 1997). Available at https://www.rferl.org/a/1086795.html.

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HydroWorld. “Kyrgyzstan launches Kambarata 2 hydropower plant”, Hydro Review (9 January 2010). Available at https://www.hydroworld.com/articles/2010/09/kyrgyzstan-launches.html.

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Khamidov, Alisher. “Kyrgyzstan: Bishkek and Tashkent Weigh Gas and Water Concerns”, Eurasianet (14 October 2009). Available at https://eurasianet.org/kyrgyzstan-bishkek-and- tashkent-weigh-gas-and-water-concerns.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Turkmenistan. “The History of IFAS Creation”, International Fund for Saving the Aral Sea (2018). Available at http://www.mfa.gov.tm/en/articles/56?breadcrumbs=no&title=aral.

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UNESCO. “Facts and Figures, Agriculture is the largest consumer of freshwater”, World Water Assessment Programme (WWAP). Available at http://www.unesco.org/new/en/natural- sciences/environment/water/wwap/facts-and-figures/all-facts-wwdr3/fact2-agricultural-use/.

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Reports and Papers

Antipova, Elena; Zyryanov, Alexi. “Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions”, in Optimization of the Syr Darya Water and Energy Uses under Current Conditions, Technical Report 00-06-W, edited by D.C. McKinney and A.K. Kenshimov, for the Environmental Policies and Institutions for Central Asia (EPIC) Program. Almaty: US Agency for International Development, 2000.

Brouwer, C. and Heibloem, M. “Crop water needs”, in Irrigation Water Management: Irrigation Water Needs. Rome: FAO, 1986. Available at http://www.fao.org/docrep/s2022e/s2022e02.htm#TopOfPage.

146

CNA. The Role of Water Stress in Instability and Conflict. CNA, 2017.

FAO. “Report of the World Food Summit”, WFS 96/REP Part 1. Rome, 13-17 November 1996.

FAO, “Systematic Index of International Water Resources Treaties. Declarations, Acts and Cases, by Basin: Volume II”, Legislative Study 34 (1984).

FAO. Water at a Glance: the relationship between water, agriculture, food security and poverty Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization. Available at http://www.fao.org/docrep/016/ap505e/ap505e.pdf.

FAO. “Water for Sustainable Food and Agriculture”, a report produced for the G20 Presidency of Germany. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2017.

Goldenbaum, Mark; et al. USAID’s Peaceful Communities Inititative. Almaty: USAID, 2006.

Hutchens, Adrian O. Principles of sharing costs associated with operation and maintenance of the water facilities of interstate joint use. USAID-EPIQ, 1999.

IFAS Executive Committee. “Integrated Land and Water Management in the Upper Watersheds”, Aral Sea Basin Program 6, Regional Report, Vol. B. Almaty/Bishkek/Dushanbe/Tashkent: International Fund for Saving the Aral Sea, 1997.

International Crisis Group. “Central Asia: Water and Conflict”, Asia Report no. 34. Osh/Brussels: International Crisis Group, 2002.

International Crisis Group, “Water Pressures in Central Asia”, Europe and Central Asia Report no. 23. International Crisis Group, 2014.

147

Martinez-Aldaya, Maite, Munoz, G. and Hoekstra, Arjen Y. “Water footprint of cotton, wheat and rice production in Central Asia”, Value of water research report no. 41. Delft: UNESCO-IHE Institute for Water Education, 2010.

Penati, Beatrice. “Collectivisation, resettlement, and new irrigation in Central Asia: the Dal’verzin steppe in the late 1920s”, Draft paper for 2018 BASEES conference. Liverpool, 2018.

Sakal, Halil B. “’Socialist Rivers’ and the Environmental History of Central Asia during the Cold War”, Conference Paper (2016).

Schultz, Bart and Uhlenbrook, Stefan. “’Water Security’: What does it mean? What may it imply?”, Discussion draft paper for the UNESCO-IHE meeting on Water Security. Delft, 13 June 2007.

Transboundary Water Management in Central Asia Programme. Isfara River Basin Plan: Batken District, Kyrgyz Republic. Bishkek: Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit, 2014.

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UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division. World Population Prospects: The 2017 Revision, Key Findings and Advance Tables. Working Paper No. ESA/P/WP/248. New York: United Nations, 2017.

UN-Water. Coping with water scarcity: challenge of the twenty-first century, paper for World Water Day 2007. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 2007.

United Nations. “Water for People Water for Life”, World Water Assessment Programme (WWAP). Barcelona: UNESCO Publishing, 2003.

Valentini, K.L.; Orolbaev, E.E.; Abylgazieva, A.K. Water Problems of Central Asia. Bishkek: International Strategic Institute Under the President of the Kyrgyz Republic, 2004.

148

Weinthal, Erika. “Water Conflict and Cooperation in Central Asia”, UNDP Human Development Report Office Occasional Paper. New York: United Nations Development Program, 2006.

World Bank. Water Energy Nexus in Central Asia: Improving Regional Cooperation in the Syr Darya Basin. Washington DC: World Bank, 2004.

Legal Documents

International Law Association. The Helsinki Rules on the Uses of the Waters of International Rivers, Fifty-second Conference. Adopted in Helsinki in August 1966.

Jogorku Kenesh. “Zakon Kyrgyzskoi Respubliki o mezhgosudarstvennom ispolzovanii vodnykh obektov, vodnykh resursov i vodokhoziaistvennykh sooruzhenii Kyrgyzskoi Respubliki [The Law of the Kyrgyz Republic on the Interstate Use of Water Objects, Water Resources and Water Installations of the Kyrgyz Republic], 29 June 2001.

Multilateral Agreement (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan). “On Cooperation in the Field of Joint Water Resources Management and Conservation of Interstate Sources”. Almaty, 18 February 2002. Available at http://afghanwaters.net/wp- content/uploads/2017/10/Almaty-1992-Agreement-Aral-Sea-.pdf.

Osh Province WMD. “Protocol of the Meeting of the scientific-technical council of the Ministry of Water resources of the USSR” (Moscow, 22-23 Ferbruary 1972).

Sogd Province Water Management Department. “Protocol of the inter-republican meeting on the inter-republican water allocation in the small rivers of the Ferghana Valley” (11 April 1980).

UN General Assembly. Convention on the Law of the Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses, General Assembly resolution 51/229, annex, Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-first Session, Supplement No. 49 (A/51/49). Adopted on 21 May 1997.

149

UN Security Council. Resolution 2417 (2018). S/RES/2417 (2018), adopted at its 8267th meeting, 24 May 2018. Available at https://undocs.org/S/RES/2417(2018).

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Summary

The Ferghana Valley is a landlocked plain in the middle of former Soviet Central Asia, almost totally isolated from the rest of the region by the surrounding mountain ranges. Politically, it is shared by Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. Its geographical features, in terms of climate, hydrography and location, has made it a strategic area throughout the history. It hosted an important route of the ancient Silk Road, was the heart of the powerful Kokand khanate in XVIIIth century, and was a relevant economic centre in the Tsarist colony of Turkestan at first, and in Soviet Central Asia later. In the last two decades, the valley has been subject to numerous escalations of violence. From ethnic clashes to Islamic radicalism, it has often been presented as an unstable land. For the purpose of this thesis, another aspect is important in order to understand the relevance of this area for regional dynamics. Indeed, since 1991, Ferghana Valley has increasingly become a hotspot in bilateral relations among neighbouring Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, in competition over water. However, the rhetorical and often summary classification of this kind of tensions as a water conflict should be carefully clarified. There is a rich literature about whether and how water could trigger major confrontations among its users or, more in general, its stakeholders. The answer is not uniform. Besides the evidence of an actual competition over the access to the resource, especially when it approaches a condition of scarcity, a great part of the studies underlines the cooperative response usually adopted by the involved States. One of the pillars of those theses is the ratio between the number of agreements and the amount of conflict events occurred over hydric resources, by far in favour of the former. In this sense, a clarification must be done about the term “conflict”. As explained below, it does not necessarily refer to conventional wars or military confrontations only, but includes a range of destabilising events, from civil unrest, to hostile rhetoric and attitudes between two States. As the following chapters will show, this is exactly the case of Uzbekistan-Kyrgyzstan, and, to a lesser extent, Tajikistan, relations. In the Ferghana Valley, they interact in a peculiar geographical and hydrographical setting. The valley is crossed by a big river, the Syr Darya, and by several small tributaries, which originate in the surrounding mountains. While the plain, where the minor streams flow into the main stem of the Syr Darya, mostly lies in Uzbek territory, the headwaters of such watercourses are hosted by Kyrgyzstan. This situation, defined in literature as an upstream/downstream relation, presents the highest potential for conflict among the configurations in which two or more 151

States share a water source. Nevertheless, different scholars have provided accurate analyses about the precise features such a relationship should present for a conflict to occur more likely. The geographical configuration is not sufficient. A combination of different factors must be considered in examining the conflict potential of the dyad. In particular, a situation in which the downstream country is militarily superior, in dire need of the water resource, and perceiving the upstream one as deliberately overexploiting the river, emerges as the most troublesome context. According to this kind of analysis, the Uzbek-Kyrgyz relationship appears to be a highly unstable one. As regarding water, they are in a situation of power balance. Throughout the years, the resulting balance has rarely led to sound and effective agreements, but, rather, to a diplomatic and political standoff, marked by a harsh rhetoric, reciprocal retaliations, dangerous energy crises and localised violence. Geographical and economic features play a decisive role in prompting such risky stalemate. From a hydrographical perspective, Kyrgyzstan can be considered the dominant actor, as far as it is in control of almost all the water sources of the downstream Uzbek part of the valley. Indeed, its geographically upper position and the presence of several huge flow-controlling facilities, allow it to strongly interfere with the natural water discharge of the rivers. It represents a relevant tool for exerting pressure on the downstream counterpart. On the contrary, Uzbekistan can exploit its superiority from a military, economic and political point of view. Being the dyad’s hegemon, in terms of military power, GDP, energy resources, and regional political influence, the country has often used these elements to press its upstream neighbour or to retaliate against the latter’s hostile acts. However, the assertion that the status quo of water setting in the Ferghana Valley could allegedly trigger interstate tensions needs a deeper insight. Empirically, it has been displayed that the Uzbek-Kyrgyz dyad matches the high-conflict-potential profile as emerged from theoretical findings. But this does not explain why, in fact, this setting has proved to be a decisive element in fostering conflict behaviours between the States. Why has water proved to be so vital for Uzbekistan? Why should Kyrgyzstan block rivers’ flow? What do the countries struggle over? Such questions lead to the main purpose of this thesis. Indeed, the present analysis aims at identifying the historical foundations of the post-independence water management system, that has set the stage for a constant worsening in inter-republican relations, but also the eruption of numerous cases of localised violence. The expected outcome will highlight a direct link between this conflict-prone configuration and Soviet and, to a lesser extent, Tsarist policies.

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Indeed, starting from the theoretical variables that determine a situation of conflict in a river basin, the analysis tries to investigate how those characteristics have arisen in the case of Ferghana Valley. Why has Uzbekistan been historically in a superior military, political and economic position vis-à-vis the upstream riparian? Why has Kyrgyzstan become increasingly able and willing to control rivers’ releases, and use it as a weapon against its downstream neighbour? Why has water become so important for the region, and for Uzbekistan in particular? In answering those three questions, it is possible to identify at least four trends, which date back to Tsarist and, especially, to Soviet times. The development of a thriving cotton sector is the central and starting point of the any study about water in Central Asia. The importance of the cash crop for the economies of the Russian Empire and, subsequently, of the USSR, led to the specialisation of the region in this cultivation. For geographical reasons, the bulk of the production was concentrated downstream, with the Ferghana Valley playing a crucial role for its hydrological and climatic features. On the one hand, this allowed a greater economic development of the downstream regions vis-à-vis mountainous ones, but implanted those economies on a highly water-consuming crop, which required massive irrigation. A second step towards the current scenario happened in 1920s, with the border-drawing policy carried out by Soviets. Indeed, it was the act that actually resected local rivers into two sections: the headwaters belonging to the newly established Kyrgyz ASSR (later, Kyrgyz SSR), the tail-ends or main courses to the Uzbek SSR. However, this never represented a concrete issue until 1960s. Kyrgyz control was theoretical, but there was not the technological ability to regulate a river flow in its mountainous stages. Indeed, irrigation had developed downstream, through a tangles network of canals, and, in Ferghana Valley, it was in total control of Uzbekistan. Again, cotton called for an improvement in the irrigation methods, and the construction of big flow-regulating reservoirs started. Geographically, the facilities could ensure an effective regulation only if built upstream the cotton fields of Uzbekistan. As a consequence, by 1980s, Kyrgyzstan hosted on its territory almost all the major reservoirs that underpinned downstream cotton – and economy. However, the reasoning should take into consideration that Soviet Socialist Republics were actually administrative units of a wider Union, although granted a considerable degree of autonomy in certain sectors. As such, their economies followed precise directives from Moscow, and contributed to the Union-wide economic interests. Thus, Central Asian, and, especially, Ferghana’s, water system was conceived and managed as a unitary system, serving the primary interest of central government in the region, namely cotton cropping. Hence, water allocation was planned accordingly, with the bulk of

153 discharges available to downstream producers, leaving upstream all the non-monetary costs, in terms of flooded lands and resettled population. Naturally, this created a highly imbalanced situation, triggering a resentment on the Kyrgyz side. Nonetheless, the authority of Moscow did not allow any major retaliation by the damaged party. Even when the upstream Republic tried to obtain its compensation by force, central government soon reacted through mediation or impositions, restoring a stability that would not hamper its economic interests. Logically, the collapse of the Union, the arising of international borders and national economic interests, but, mainly, the disappearance of the dominant figure of Moscow over regional affairs in 1991, reversed the existing scheme of water management. After early attempts to cooperate, States resorted to unilateralism in order to maximise their own resources. This trend was particularly evident in the energy sector, and initiated a series of retaliations that highlighted the paradoxical context inherited by the Soviet period. A stronger Uzbekistan totally depended on upstream water releases, while Kyrgyzstan in turn relied on downstream energy for a great part of its domestic demand, and was heavily limited by the constraints of its poor economy.

The work will follow the subsequent structure, trying to provide at first a theoretical background of the issue of water conflicts, proceeding then with the historical analysis aiming at finding a direct link between Tsarist and Soviet policies and post-independence conflict scenario.

In chapter one, a review of the existing literature in the field of water security and water conflict will be carried out. It will be an useful tool for subsequent reading, in order to better understand why certain historical trends have contributed to set up conflict-prone conditions in the valley. Starting from the worrying situation and forecasts worldwide about the availability of water, and how this could trigger competition over it, the focus will be brought onto the specific studies on water conflicts. After defining the term conflict as it will be meant in this thesis, five factors will be identified as sources for possible water-induced conflicts: Scarcity or mismanagement; geographical features; relative power of the actors involved; pre-existing conflict among them; allocation criteria. As evident during the subsequent chapters, those elements are critical ones in the Ferghana Valley’s case. In particular, as stated above, the geographical setting represents the fundamental weakness of the dyad. Indeed, as previously upheld, river disputes, and especially upstream/downstream ones, will appear as the most unstable. In the conclusive paragraphs of the

154 chapter, a description of the principal features of the valley will lay down the context for the historical survey.

Chapter two will initiate the proper historical research. The focal point of the first part of the chapter will be on the Tsarist agricultural policies. Under specific economic and political circumstances, the decision to bet on cotton growing in Turkestan would prove to be crucial for the subject of the present analysis. Indeed, regional specialisation in cotton cropping would barely oblige according choices by Soviet rulers, prompting the conditions for a massive withdrawals from local rivers. The origins of the irrigation and agricultural system that has led to the present environmental and security challenges of water management in Central Asia are presented. However, the physical transformation was not the only, neither the principal, disruptive element brought by the Russian settlers. Actually, alongside the infrastructural interventions, the Russian Empire was also responsible for initiating the process of reforms that prompted the legal and socio-economic revolution of local civilisations. Water-related legislation, namely rules regulating water rights, land tenure and agriculture, and irrigation, has been a fundamental tool used by Russian colonialists and Soviet rulers for fostering such revolution. Soviet period will be instead fundamental for the political organisation of the valley. Two relevant outcomes can be individuated in this historical period: cotton and irrigation development, and the border delimitation policy. The ever more interconnected Ferghana Valley saw the dawn of its dense network of waterways, fed by transboundary streams. The neighbouring Republics were dependent on each other for irrigation and for the related riverine water management. However, the network lied predominantly in the plain of the valley, namely in Uzbek territory, with the mountainous areas left barely intact. The construction of major reservoirs on the STTs of the valley was still out of the technological abilities of the engineering, and the investments in irrigation regarded mainly canals. Uzbekistan had, thus, the bulk of cotton fields and most of the irrigation facilities on its territory, while Kyrgyzstan had virtually the control of the headwaters, but lacked the infrastructures to actually exert it. The massive development of cotton and irrigation initiated a vicious circle of land and water overexploitation. The national territorial delimitation policies from 1924 to 1936 were a milestone in regional politics, and would result essential for the control of the water resources. Indeed, the new delimitation for the first time formally divided the geographical unity of the valley, allegedly

155 following ethnic lines. As a result, many river basins were bisected, creating the aforementioned situation in which Kyrgyz SSR controlled the rivers, and Uzbek SSR benefitted from its waters.

Chapter three represents the link between the first two chapters and the analysis of post- independence context. Indeed, in the period examined therein, the water management scheme begins to take the form that would fuel inter-republican disputes after 1991 until today. The analysis of this chapter will focus on the major transboundary reservoirs serving the Ferghana Valley, and how their planning and building processes have contributed to create inherent weaknesses in the system. Indeed, the latter was based on, and worked thanks to, a premise that would disappear after the collapse of the Union: a centralised economic strategy, imposed by a political hegemon, which was able to prevent or settle disputes through mediation or coercion. In that perspective, the elements of a potentially conflict pattern were neutralised. However, as it will be evident, especially regarding localised disputes, signs of conflict relations already showed up in Soviet time at local level, like minor river basins or single villages. Nonetheless, they were quiescent, as the ultimate intervention by Moscow always managed to prevent major escalations. In this sense, many of the features of the infrastructures and water allocation agreements arisen in this period could be considered as miscalculations, based on the reasonable conviction that a central and unitary management of the region would always be able to annul their destabilising effect. By examining the history of interstate agreements on infrastructure building and water allotment, the chapter tries to understand the raison d'être of certain patterns, why they were perfectly reasonable under Soviet rule and why, instead, would represent a threat to regional stability once Central Asian Republics would have gained independence.

In chapter four, the consequences of Soviet policies will be presented. A special focus will be on the water-energy crisis, which affected inter-republican relations for the whole 1990s and 2000s. Many of the decisions taken by the central government of the Union, as set out in the previous chapters, contributed to the emergence of the complex geopolitical picture of independent Central Asia, and of Ferghana Valley in particular. The chapter will analyse how the outcome of those four Soviet policies combined after 1991, setting up a system which revealed unable to cooperate. Conflict, in the form of interstate tensions, retaliations and localised violence, has been instead a frequent response to the contradictions of the system. The analysis will develop on two lines. 156

The first part will deal with the macro-dispute that emerged soon in 1990s and that created the major tensions: the water-energy nexus. The emergence of national interests was incompatible with the unbalanced scheme set up by Moscow and constituted one of the main sources of conflict among the riparian States. By examining the weaknesses of the unsuccessful agreements reached across the years, basically regarding the functioning of the Toktogul Reservoir, a strong Soviet responsibility will be pointed out behind the retaliations and the hostile rhetoric that often characterised interstate relations after 1991. In the second part of this chapter, three case studies will be reported to present the situation on the borders. They represent useful examples to explain the different nature that water disputes had at local level, especially in the STT basins. In this case as well, the structural weaknesses that Soviet water allocation, irrigation networks and border setting left in 1991 will be seen as the main source of conflicts. Three case studies will be presented: the Isfara basin, with the clashes of Vorukh; the Sokh basin, with the clashes on the southern border; the case of O&M in transboundary facilities, with the tensions near the Kasansai Reservoir. For the former two, a double perspective will be adopted in analysing water disputes at local level: the institutional one, examining the unsuccessful story of basin agreements, and a focus on specific community conflicts, trying to understand how the Soviet infrastructural and border legacy actually impacted.

A review of the major agreements and their failure will be useful to understand the impact of Soviet legacies, in terms of infrastructures and accords, on regional stability. The second part of the chapter will deepen another aspect of water-induced conflicts: local disputes. Indeed, a range of secondary aspects of the Soviet water management produced serious effect at users level, often ending in violence or military mobilisation. Three case studies will be presented. The Isfara river basin, and the Aksai-Vorukh confrontation, together with the Sokh river basin, and the Sogment-Khush’iar-Charbak case, will underline the impact of the “materialisation” of international borders on institutional and day-to-day context, after the integrated management and planning under Soviet administration. The Kasansai case will instead highlight the phenomenon of transboundary facilities owned by Uzbekistan. This kind of anomaly was triggered particular tensions during the years of border closing, up to military mobilisation of 2016.

As asserted throughout this thesis, and as demonstrated especially in chapter four, all the aforementioned issues are part of a wider problem, made up of different aspects, and which

157 replicates in similar forms both at inter-republican level and all along the boundaries: Soviet legacies. The importance of the historical foundations of present-day water issues in the Ferghana Valley cannot be ignored when assessing the conflict potential of regional water setting. As previously displayed, at least four Soviet, and, in some cases, even Tsarist, policies, namely cotton development, irrigation planning, border delimitation, and water allocation, are to be held responsible for setting the stage to post-independence conflict scenario. They contributed in different ways. Cotton can be deemed the founding element of the present water setting. Its development was fostered as early as 1850s, and was soon sided by an equally huge irrigation effort. The arid climate of many areas of Central Asia, the high water requirements of the crop, and the inefficiency of outdated infrastructures, prompted an almost perennial crisis in water demand, which in turn put further pressure on riverine resources. Both Russian Empire and USSR became to a large extent dependent on ever higher harvests from the region, while for local economy it represented the only opportunity to survive and attract investments from the centre. Cotton development is the premise for the regional dependence on rivers. Irrigation and border delimitation should be considered together, although their interconnectedness was in fact ignored in many cases by Soviet rulers. Indeed, Soviet policies in the field of irrigation infrastructures left some actors in total control of principal water resources, and some totally dependent on them for their economic survival. Boundaries often resected river basins among two or more countries, separating also the upstream facilities from the lands they benefitted. Nevertheless, most of the biggest irrigation systems were, instead, built after the establishment of such borders, consciously straddling them. Actually, they had little relevance within the Union, and were considered as administrative boundaries. This scheme was replicated both at national and local level. The former case concerns the main stem of the Syr Darya, which irrigates most of the valley and a great part of the downstream sown lands. The presence of the upstream Toktogul Reservoir created major tensions and several energy and diplomatic crises during the 1990s and 2000s. To a similar extent, single provinces and even villages experienced the same situation, and, given the border design outlined by the NTD, Uzbek ones usually occupied the downstream position. However, the tangled boundaries and the presence of enclaves, especially in the South, often created paradoxical settings, in which some regions of the same country were in an upstream position, while other in the downstream one.

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The last Soviet policy contributing to the post-independence instability was water management. As a single entity, the USSR planned Central Asian economic strategy in a way that would fit its interests. In that sense, cotton growing was fixed as the pillar of the regional economy, and its maximisation as the ultimate goal of the water allocation pattern. Therefore, water should primarily serve irrigation, concentrated downstream, while upstream countries, where most of the rivers originated, were strongly disadvantaged. Indeed, with this scheme, their hydropower potential could not be used during the winter, when the energy demand is high. A fossil energy supply from downstream was thus envisaged in those months to fulfil basic needs.

The hypothesis of continuity between Soviet (and Tsarist) choices and water disputes between modern Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan is confirmed. In particular, the analysis of post-war events appears crucial. Indeed, 1950s and 1960s can be considered the key decades for the present analysis. In fact, only then, all the theoretical speculations about conflict-prone geographical settings, namely upstream/downstream relations, materialised, with the acquisition of technical ability to control Ferghana’s STTs. However, while this factor activated the destabilising nature of the dyad, giving to Kyrgyzstan a powerful tool over Uzbekistan, another variable neutralised it: Moscow’s authority. This variable is fundamental for the analysis. Actually, when examining the tensions of 1990s on the main stem of the Syr Darya, the water-energy barter emerged as the main subject of the disputes. However, while the infrastructural and institutional premises have remained unchanged compared to Soviet times, the political and economic discontinuities have proved to be decisive. Indeed, the elements that triggered the failure of Almaty 1992, which barely confirmed the Soviet pattern of water management, were the unilateral defections of the countries due to autonomous economic policies. As a consequence, the disintegration of a unitary governance, both in terms of economic planning and political enforcement, can be seen as a pivotal variable in the present reasoning. As soon as the “supranational” power of Moscow disappeared, the system entered its crisis. This highlights a second aspect, namely that the critical weaknesses of the post-independence period already existed under the Soviet system. They were only suppressed by the interventionism of the central government. In some cases the role of mediator played by it, both in water and territorial disputes, was not decisive, like in the case of 1958 Tajik-Kyrgyz disputes in Isfara-Batken, which was left unresolved, or the Ferghana crisis of 1958, which did produce only a unilateral declaration by the Kyrgyz SSR in 1961. However, even

159 when the result was not a valid agreement triggered through mediation or coercion, the intervention of Moscow discouraged any further conflict and favoured a status of acquiescence. Nevertheless, the legacy of a system based on frequent remedial actions by an authoritative hegemon, could not offer any sustainable alternative solution. Without shared and agreed legal bases, all those frozen disputes re-emerged. With the Republics struggling to find a solution for their shattered economies, the growing nationalisms, and in the absence of predetermined political and economic choices, unilateralism and distrust prevailed. A similar situation could be observed at local level, all along the borders, in the outskirts of the valley. There, energy politics and diplomacy left the stage to user level disputes, where they have usually affected day-to-day life, ending in violent clashes for the control of the resources. Also in this case, Soviet infrastructural planning has resulted decisive in setting the stage for unstable users relations. Upstream communities have used water as a weapon in ethnic fights or as a means to force downstream ones to cede lands. More often, the usage of river or canal waters has been the primary source of the conflict, arising from poor management, lack of agreements or distrust among the transboundary users. The situation of stalemate seems now to be on the right path towards a more cooperative attitude. However, the tensions that have characterised Ferghana Valley’s water politics cannot be ignored, and the accurate analysis of their historical roots must be taken into account for a correct assessment of any future scenario. The persistence of the structural weaknesses inherited by the Soviet policies are a serious threat to any deep or long-term cooperation, since, given the natural limits of regional basins in terms of annual discharge, the conflicting interests of the country at stake exert opposite pressures on the resource. A tug-of-war is a concrete possibility in any scenario, since both the countries present the necessary tools to bend the deal in their own favour. However, they have also their sides open to any retaliation, be it a cut off in water or energy supply. And this is the heavy legacy of the disintegration of what once was just a region within the Soviet Union, forced to serve the economic interests of Moscow.

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