Russian Won’t Be Kyrgyzstan’s Lingua Franca for Long

Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, many Ukrainians have made a concerted effort to only speak Ukrainian, even if their native language is Russian. This phenomenon is not unique to Ukraine; in fact, efforts to dismantle Russian linguistic influence have taken root over the past three decades in many former Soviet republics—especially in the Baltics. But in Central Asia, shifts in language policy are a relatively new phenomenon; Uzbekistan’s decision to switch fully from the Cyrillic alphabet to the Latin one in 2021 was an early sign.

When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, Kyrgyzstan was one of the first countries to welcome Russian migrants, many of whom left to avoid conscription or to protest the war. Kyrgyzstan began offering a digital nomad visa, which many Russian citizens applied for. The sudden surge in Russian relokanty changed the makeup of Kyrgyzstan and greatly increased the number of Russian speakers.

In 2022, 273,000 Russian citizens registered in Kyrgyzstan, 30 percent more than did in 2021. Shortly after the war began, private so-called law firms popped up, advertising assistance in obtaining Kyrgyz citizenship. They highlighted Kyrgyzstan’s strong historical ties to Russia and its Russian-speaking population as benefits for easy, comfortable living. In addition, they marketed Kyrgyz citizenship as a way to more easily access Western countries. After naturalizing more than 7,000 Russian individuals in 2024, Kyrgyzstan halted applications for citizenship from Russians earlier this year. (By comparison, only about 400 Russian nationals applied for Kyrgyz citizenship in 2021.)

This influx of Russian speakers in Kyrgyzstan has ignited a debate over how to protect indigenous languages and traditions against what many perceive as a new wave of Russian imperialism, especially as Central Asian leaders seek to distance themselves from Russia by remaining officially neutral on the war in Ukraine.

A rest stop near Balykchy, Kyrgyzstan, in July 2024, where many people stop on the way to and from Lake Issyk Kul, one of Kyrgyzstan’s most popular summer destinations.

The relationship between Kyrgyzstan and Russia has been difficult since the Russian Empire first occupied the country in 1876. The Soviet government sought to rid Kyrgyzstan of its nomadic heritage, pushing communist ideals and standardized language while actively settling ethnic Russians in urban areas.

As Russia’s grip on Central Asia weakens, language policy is becoming an increasingly important tool in bolstering nationalism and chipping away at an imperial past. While the Russian language still has official status in Kyrgyzstan, and Russian soft power efforts in the form of exchanges and scholarships continue, some Kyrgyz politicians are pushing for a radical transformation of the education system, advocating for all schools, including universities, to be taught primarily in Kyrgyz.

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Many ethnic Kyrgyz have traditionally moved to Russia in search of better employment. In 2015, it was estimated that 1.5 million people, or one-fifth of Kyrgyzstan’s population, were living in Russia and sending remittances to Kyrgyzstan, constituting a huge source of income for most families.

Today, Kyrgyzstan still relies heavily on Russia economically and politically. In 2021, before the war in Ukraine started, Kyrgyzstan’s exports to Russia were only $393 million. In 2022, this figure increased to over $1 billion.

Increases in trade between the two nations can in part be attributed to Kyrgyzstan’s role in helping the Russian economy circumvent sanctions from the West. Although Kyrgyzstan may seek to distance itself from Russian soft power and is growing closer to China in some ways—including a long-term rail construction agreement—it has few viable economic partners aside from Russia. A recent press release from the U.S. Treasury Department exposed a Kyrgyz financial institution that had “coordinated with Russian officials and a U.S.-designated bank to implement a sanctions evasion scheme.”

A family sells kumis (fermented horse milk), ayran (a salty yogurt drink), and kurut (a fermented dairy snack) from their yurt near Lake Kel Suu, an alpine lake near the Chinese-Kyrgyz border, in August 2024.

The divide between Russian-speaking and Kyrgyz-speaking groups in Kyrgyzstan has long been a point of political contention, with Russian-speaking inhabitants primarily living in Bishkek and being associated with the metropolitan elite, whereas Kyrgyz speakers live in more rural areas and consume most of their media in the Kyrgyz language.

The urban-rural divide played a large role in Kyrgyzstan’s 2020 election, where Japarov gained widespread support from rural, Kyrgyz-speaking voters through his utilization of social media platforms. At the time, many rural voters were tired of the corrupt political system and the elites who led it, and Japarov’s populist messaging pitted urban, Russophone liberal groups against Kyrgyz-speaking rural groups.

Based on my interviews with many young Kyrgyz people in Bishkek, the Kyrgyz language is rapidly gaining ground. This demographic is now prioritizing Kyrgyz over Russian to improve their chances for employment, as well as to connect to their culture. Meerim Abdiraimova, a young ethnic Kyrgyz woman who works at an international organization in Bishkek, learned Kyrgyz as an adult to connect with her family and open up job opportunities.

“When I was younger, I didn’t know any Kyrgyz. My parents considered Russian more prestigious and thought it would give me more opportunities,” Meerim said. It was not until she began attending Manas University, one of the most reputable schools in Kyrgyzstan, that she learned Kyrgyz in a structured way. Meerim noted that it is extremely difficult to obtain academic or professional proficiency in Kyrgyz since so many official processes happen in Russian and rely on Russian loanwords.

The inside of a resort on Lake Issyk Kul in August 2024. The right sign says “store” in Russian.

“When I was learning, there weren’t many resources available to learn Kyrgyz, and most people didn’t see a point in learning since they wanted to move abroad,” Meerim said. “But after the war started, when all the Russians began moving to Kyrgyzstan, the Kyrgyz language became more important from an anti-imperialist standpoint.”

There are now Instagram pages offering written resources to learn Kyrgyz—like Tilimpoz—that also approach learning Kyrgyz as a form of resistance to Russian imperialism.

“Two years ago, I lost a job offer from a very prestigious international organization because my translation skills from Kyrgyz into Russian were not good enough,” Meerim said. Although she was disappointed she did not get the position, Meerim said she respected that international organizations are focusing on local languages, since most of their work tends to take place outside of Bishkek in primarily Kyrgyz-speaking regions.

More foreigners have started learning Kyrgyz in addition to Russian as priorities have changed domestically. Cholpon Beshkempirova, the head of Lingua Yurt language school in Bishkek, told Foreign Policy that the demand for Kyrgyz language classes has increased in the past two years as local languages become more important for internationally focused work.

For Alina Babaeva, a teacher at Lingua Yurt and an ethnic Balkar—a Turkic ethnic group native to the North Caucasus—who was born and raised in Kyrgyzstan, learning Kyrgyz is a priority. “I’ve never had much of a problem in Kyrgyzstan not knowing Kyrgyz. That being said, I am a bit embarrassed that I was born here and lived here my whole life and can’t communicate in Kygryz,” she said. “Russian is my main language of communication. I learned Kyrgyz in school, and I studied it in university, but I never properly learned to speak it. School and university programs were very bad [in the 2010s], even though Kyrgyz was a required subject.”

A group of Uzbek-language students at Gulistan State University in Gulistan, Uzbekistan, in May 2024. These students are majoring in pedagogy with a focus on English teaching.

English is also becoming an increasingly popular subject. In many Central Asian countries, a departure from Russian language and cultural studies has been replaced by greater English-language initiatives. In Uzbekistan in 2019, for example, the U.S. State Department launched the English Speaking Nation: Secondary Teacher Training program, a three-year program that provided teaching strategies and professional development opportunities to over 15,000 Uzbek teachers of English across the country.

The U.S. State Department also provided opportunities for Central Asian students from Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan to improve their English through exchange programs to the United States. These programs garnered high interest from some of the region’s most talented students and educators and demonstrated a bright point in U.S.-Central Asian relations, as well as a departure from interest in Russian linguistic and cultural exchange.

Recent U.S. policy decisions, however, to cut much of this programming will have unfortunate long-term consequences for U.S. influence and Central Asia and might leave more room for Russia to resume its push for influence.

After all, Russia views Central Asian countries—and especially Kyrgyzstan, which has stronger ties to Russia than some of its other Central Asian counterparts—as vital to its national interests. By maintaining its soft power through literature and language programs and academic exchanges, Russia hopes to hold onto waning cultural influence in one of its historically most supportive regional allies, especially as other former Soviet nations continue to distance themselves politically and culturally.

As Russia loses its grasp on Central Asia, language policy is at the center of shifting priorities and a greater push towards nativization and de-Russification.

“I feel very proud when I speak Kyrgyz,” Meerim said. “I try to speak it as much as possible. The Kyrgyz language is a part of my identity, and if we don’t speak it, it will be lost.”