The Economist - USA (2019-09-28)

The EconomistSeptember 28th 2019 Asia 35

1

K

azakhstan’s newpresident, Kassym-

Jomart Tokayev, has tried to sound like

a refreshing change after decades of auto-

cracy. Early this month, in his first state-of-

the-nation speech, he said his “listening

state” would show greater tolerance of dis-

sent. Days earlier, citizens had witnessed

the astonishing sight of pro-democracy

marches proceeding without arrests. But

other protests, including a recent spate tar-

geting the country’s giant neighbour and

benefactor, China, have elicited a very dif-

ferent response. In Kazakhstan old politi-

cal habits die hard.

The protesters want an end to what they

regard as Chinese economic domination of

their country. The demonstrations, the

most recent of which took place on Sep-

tember 21st in the country’s two biggest cit-

ies, Almaty and Nur-Sultan, as well as sev-

eral other towns, have involved only a few

hundred people. But relations with China,

with which Kazakhstan shares a 1,800-km

border, are highly sensitive. Kazakhstan

has benefited enormously from China’s

global infrastructure-building scheme, the

Belt and Road Initiative (bri). There are 55

Chinese projects under way in the country,

worth $27.5bn. Kazakhstan’s government

takes great pride in this. It likes to describe

the country as the “buckle” of bri’s belt.

Many Kazakhs do not share this enthu-

siasm. They are leery of China’s economic

influence: it controls more than one-fifth

of Kazakhstan’s oil output and is expand-

ing into other areas, including manufac-

turing, construction and chemicals. They

worry about the opacity of China’s projects,

the possibility that Kazakhstan will not be

able to repay related loans and the use of

imported Chinese labour. Anti-China sen-

timent across Central Asia has been fuelled

by the mass incarceration of Turkic Mus-

lim minorities, including Chinese-born

Kazakhs, in Xinjiang, a Chinese province

bordering Kazakhstan (see China section).

China describes these, implausibly, as “vo-

cational training centres” that help to pre-

vent Islamist extremism.

During the latest anti-China protests

the Kazakh authorities detained 100 prot-

esters, including a man whose prosthetic

leg became detached as he wrestled with

police—a scene that caused outrage on so-

cial media. Most were freed without charge

but nine were given short prison sen-

tences. They join 29 others who were jailed

for taking part in anti-China protests earli-

er this month.

Officials have declared the rallies in vio-

lation of stringent public-assembly laws

(which Mr Tokayev has pledged to reform).

But the authorities stated straightforward-

ly that their main reason for clamping

down was the encouragement the protests

have received from Mukhtar Ablyazov, a

Kazakh oligarch based in France. He makes

no secret of his desire to stoke unrest in

pursuit of “regime change”. The govern-

ment, in turn, has banned Mr Ablyazov’s

Democratic Choice of Kazakhstan move-

ment and treats supporters as criminals.

Mr Ablyazov has plenty of grievances to

tap into. Since the resignation in March of

Nursultan Nazarbayev, who had ruled the

country since 1989, there have been sporad-

ic protests against everything from the

stage-managed election that resulted in

victory for Mr Tokayev (Mr Nazarbayev’s

choice as successor), to the renaming of the

capital, Astana, as Nur-Sultan in honour of

the ex-president, who is thought to still call

the shots from behind the scenes. In all,

some 4,500 protesters have been detained

since Mr Tokayev became president—not a

very impressive tally for a supposed re-

former. 7

ALMATY

The president promises to allow public

protests, just not yet

Sinophobia in Kazakhstan

Truncheons at the

ready

Freedom of assembly is subject to some restrictions

P

rovincial townsin South Korea, like

their counterparts in other countries,

are not known for a great variety of culinary

offerings. Lunch options are typically stew,

noodles or barbecue. Not so in Gimhae, a

sprawling city of 550,000 in the far south of

the country. A stroll around the old market

area takes visitors past Thai supermarkets,

Vietnamese coffee shops and Burmese,

Cambodian and Indonesian restaurants.

An Uzbek eatery offers fragrant meat

dumplings along with a generous helping

of post-Soviet kitsch in the form of glitter-

ing gold lamé tablecloths and spangled

voile curtains.

The diversity is a recent development,

says Chun Jung-hee, who runs the local

government’s support centre for foreign

workers. “Until about ten years ago there

was only this one Chinese restaurant.” The

change is the result of government policy.

South Korea, which got rich by exporting

its products all over the world, has recently

begun to import people.

Starting in the mid-2000s, the govern-

ment struck agreements with several

South-East and Central Asian countries,

making it easier for their citizens to apply

for work visas of strictly limited duration

to take up low-skilled jobs. Until then,

most immigrants arrived in the country ei-

ther illegally or through international-

marriage schemes designed to find wives

for farm workers and other manual labour-

ers, since South Korean women were shun-

ning harsh lives in the countryside. Both

groups suffer exploitation and abuse.

Partly as a result, many local authorities no

longer support the marriage schemes.

The aim of the new work permits was

not just to reduce labour shortages for me-

GIMHAE

An influx of foreigners is spreading

beyond the capital

Immigration to South Korea

Peninsular draw