New Constitution, No Changes

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I was a referendum observer the last time that Kazakhstan had a constitutional referendum in 2022. I was stationed at a polling station in the center of Astana, watching while mostly students and pensioners quietly made their way into the voting booths. One 50-year-old man, however, stood out. Entering the hall, he addressed the members of the electoral commission in Kazakh: “Au, agaiyindar, mynadan keiyn shyn ozgeris bolatyn shygar? [Well, tell me, will there be real changes after this (referendum)?]”

His question rang out with such weariness and dwindling hope that he still comes to my mind every time the top leadership in Kazakhstan announces another plan for reform. And there have been plenty of such announcements over the past four years — from the construction of ‘New Kazakhstan’ to the latest amendments to the Constitution. But were these really the changes that the man in the polling station was asking for? And why, after four years of continuous reforms, have the lives of the people of Kazakhstan not improved, but worsened?

Unmet Demands

For many years, the desire for radical change has been one of the main demands discernable in Kazakhstani society. At Paperlab, an independent think tank based in Astana, our surveys first recorded this back in 2018, when the proportion of those in favor of radical change began to significantly exceed the number of those advocating gradual change or the status quo. In fact, it was this sentiment that drove frequent political protests in 2018-2019, as well as the unexpectedly high support for Amirzhan Kossanov, an opposition candidate in the 2019 presidential election.

The demand for change grew out of a sense of deep stagnation that built up among society during the decades of former president Nursultan Nazarbayev’s rule. As the First President’s cult of personality grew stronger, and as his relatives grew richer, the general population’s hopes for progress began to fade. Thanks as well to a series of devaluations of the tenge, faith in a ‘Kazakhstan Miracle’ also began to collapse. It became clear to many that the government’s inefficiency, corruption among officials, and unresolved socio-economic problems were all rooted in a lack of accountability and turnover among the ruling elites.

The accession of Kassym-Jomart Tokayev to the presidency in 2019 may have temporarily defused this tension, as his rhetoric gave rise to hopes for political change. But within a few years, it became clear that the changing of the guard had failed to meet the country’s expectations: Kazakhstan was still being run by the same people, there were no new parties, and elections still followed the same old script — overwhelming ruling party victories.

In January 2022, the long-simmering discontent burst out into the largest protest movement in Kazakhstan’s history. Its slogan, “Shal, ket! [Old man out!],” — originally coined during a currency crisis during the Nazarbayev years — not only spoke to a suspicion over the former ruler’s continued influence over the country, but also underscored a demand for a more radical change of course.

Reform to Remain Unchanged

Following Qandy Qantar, the violent repression of the January 2022 protests, authorities appeared to respond to the demand for change by embracing the concept of ‘New Kazakhstan’ — a purported new set of rules of the game and a rejection of Nazarbayev’s legacy. The new regime sought to capitalize on public sentiment and channel it into support for Tokayev. By setting himself apart from Nazarbayev, Tokayev could blame his predecessor and try to make a clean start.

However, as time went by, nothing seemed to get any better — neither in the economic sphere or in politics. Kazakhstan’s citizens have long looked to inflation and income levels as the main indicators of the country’s progress. In recent years, both metrics have deteriorated, while in the political arena, the 2023 parliamentary elections caused further disillusionment following yet another ruling party landslide and a crackdown on activists.

Against the backdrop of a lack of real change, the Tokayev regime continued to maintain the appearance of progress. The president’s office came up with a stream of rhetorical constructions — ‘New Kazakhstan;’ ‘The Listening State;’ ‘The Second Republic;’ ‘Fair Kazakhstan;’ ‘Law and Order’ — while it implemented a series of specific but poorly coordinated policy initiatives. It orchestrated the creation of three new regions, planned to make regional governors and mayors directly elected, set quotas for independent candidates in parliament, and organized a referendum on nuclear power. Each initiative was touted as an important step for the country, but then was quickly forgotten as soon as the next was announced.

Photo: Akorda.kz

Amid all the changes launched by Tokayev the decision to directly elect regional governors and mayors seemed like Kazakhstan’s most genuine step forward in a long time. It was supposed to be proof that the new president was different and more democratic than his predecessor.

In practice, however, the reform turned out to be a sham: the vast majority of local administrators get re-elected without facing any real competition, and rural governors have so few powers and resources that they end up having no influence. With this in mind, it’s no surprise that some deputies have already proposed abandoning direct elections and returning to the previous system of top-down appointments.

Why is the Tokayev administration apparently unable to break out of this never-ending cycle? Is it that the people in power simply “don’t want change,” or is it that that real change would threaten the very people in power? After all, political competition would open up the space for uncomfortable questions about Qandy Qantar, corruption schemes, or unconstitutional decision-making. Free and fair elections would leave people free to elect whoever they want, irrespective of the government’s wishes.

The Tokayev regime is thus forced to go about carrying out reforms because its legitimacy depends on it. But since genuine reform would threaten the authorities’ position itself, the changes remain merely symbolic, or, as in the case of the Tax Code, openly regressive.

Bureaucracy Always Wins

Another important aspect of the Tokayev administration’s reforms over the last four years is the nature of bureaucracy they have produced. The new governing apparatus has been shaped by the state’s framing of Qandy Qantar as an attempted coup rather than a political protest, a narrative that now serves as a litmus test for political loyalty. By publicly endorsing this version of events, officials have proven their loyalty and made their way into higher government positions.

The Tokayev regime’s reforms have therefore been specifically designed by people who have undergone this selection process. These decision-makers hold worldviews that treat protests as crowds to be controlled, and see citizens as entities to be coerced or persuaded, rather than as autonomous political beings. By reading Qandy Qantar as a struggle among elites rather than a popular protest, the ruling party justifies changing the rules at the top instead of reforming the system.

With reforms designed for the sake of bureaucrats rather than citizens, and the system has not changed tack. Direct elections for regional governors remain largely symbolic, and with opposition politicians excluded from the competition, parliamentary elections remain a formality. The new Tax Code has only worsened business conditions for small enterprises and everyday citizens.

Photo by Almas Kaisar.

A New Start, Again

By 2025, the gap between reform rhetoric and reality had become so glaringly obvious that it could no longer be concealed by piecemeal initiatives. The response was to reboot the system through a “new” Constitution. Officially, this was about abolishing the Senate and transitioning to a unicameral parliament. In reality, however, the proposed amendments serve several overlapping objectives.

The first is power transition. Tokayev’s term of office expires in 2029, and the regime’s new institutional structure must allow for a managed handover in the future. The office of vice-president, expanded powers over appointments, and greater presidential control over the courts and security forces — all are safety mechanisms in case of future unrest.

But there is also a second objective, which is discussed less frequently. The new Constitution is an attempt to restore the legitimacy that could not be maintained by Tokayev’s rhetoric of a ‘New Kazakhstan’. On the back of four years of reforms that failed to go beyond a superficial level, the regime has announced a symbolic fresh start. The proposed Constitution is intended to tell Kazakhstan’s citizens that everything before was merely preparation; and now the real change will begin.

According to our surveys, more than 70% of Kazakhstani citizens continue to await large-scale and substantive change. So far, the new Constitution, like all of the Tokayev regime’s previous reforms, fails to answer this demand.

The author is a sociologist that works at the PaperLab think-tank.

An edited version of this article was translated by Oliver Fisk.