No Longer Safe for Migrants: Tajikistan’s Fading “Russian Dream”

Deportations, joblessness and shifting geopolitics are forcing Central Asia’s poorest nation to confront an uncertain future.

Near the city centre of Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan, men are anxiously gathered, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups. Half an hour had passed before a red sedan pulled up in the middle of the road, with the driver pulling down his window. Around 20 people instantly rushed the car; each trying to capture the driver’s attention and stake his claim to the work he was offering. 

Most people come to this spot every day, including weekends, seeking short-term construction jobs which are usually low-paid. When a daily project is finished, they return to the same spot to wait for a different employer. This is almost no regularity. 

Many wait for days without success. These unemployed men typically have a very basic education and only find menial labour jobs, often without a written contract or social protection. Workers struggle to secure long-term employment and sometimes face cheating by employers through underpayment or non-payment of wages.

Most of the men seeking work here are former labour migrants deported from Russia. In the aftermath of the 2024 Crocus City Mall attack in Moscow, 4 Tajik men were charged with the mass killing, more than 17,000 Tajik people were deported, and now face severe unemployment back home.

The Traditional 

This chronic unemployment is not only an issue for deportees but also a national crisis in Tajikistan that has persisted for years. As the poorest country in the former Soviet Union, Tajikistan has long relied on its connection to Russia for labour migration, and more crucially, remittance payments. It is almost a national tradition, wherein most men go north to study or work and pursue a better life. The long-standing agreement between the two countries on exchanging labour resources, combined with a visa-free regime, makes this process easier. 

In terms of the language, Russian is a compulsory subject in Tajik schools, so most migrants can more or less get by in Russia with few obstacles to communication. In some cases, speaking Russian isn’t necessary, since the work they do is repetitive and requires minimal verbal instruction. 

However, administrative barriers are challenging. People wait outside the migration office in Dushanbe every morning to take an exam, in order to obtain a certificate which would allow them to work in Russia. 

This exam can be done either in Tajikistan or in Russia, and covers the Russian language, history, culture, and legislation of the Russian Federation. Once certified, the journey itself is an adventure, with people sometimes spending three days on the bus to travel from Tajikistan to Russia. 

Tajik migrants send the money they earn back home, and the remittance share of the GDP in Tajikistan is one of the highest in the world. 

However, the “Russian Dream” has always been fraught with difficulty. Behruz Sufizoda, a 22-year-old Tajik student, won a full scholarship to a Russian university in 2022. But after two days, he was arrested because authorities suspected that he was involved in a rape and murder case around his university. After one month in jail, he was released without being formally charged but was deported from the country with a five-year ban on returning to Russia. 

Labour migrants face numerous difficulties even after arriving in Russia. Patent, a work permit, which can consume up to 70% and 90% of their monthly salary. 

They also endure constant discrimination. Imomuraove Sheron, a 20-year-old medical student whose parents have worked in the construction industry in Moscow for years, helped them with the work during the summer vacation in the outskirts of Moscow. Imomuraove claimed he faced constant prejudice: “People don’t value us, like how white people historically treated those with darker skin poorly.” 

After the 2024 terrorist attack in Moscow, the situation deteriorated rapidly. The Russian authorities drastically tightened their policy towards migration. In some regions, migrants are even prohibited from holding certain jobs: For example, in St. Petersburg, most foreigners are now banned from working as taxi drivers and couriers, sectors which were once dominated by migrant workers. 

This restriction of policy has forced many skilled workers to return home. Many of Dushanbe’s taxi drivers had previously been doing the same job in Russia. Now back in Tajikistan, either voluntarily or having been deported, they face new challenges. Although they own their cars, most of them pay monthly loan instalments, which can take up a large portion of their income. 

Alongside this, rideshare platforms such as Jura Taxi now impose a high, daily fixed fee of 100 Somini (~ $11 USD), often taking up a big portion of earnings, effectively forcing drivers into debt slavery, where they are compelled to work constantly without days off.

The Alternative

With the route to Russia now seeming more treacherous, a new economic power is imposing itself in Tajikistan, offering a fresh alternative for the nation’s youth: China.

In recent years, China has become a huge presence. Close to the old parliament building in Dushanbe, which still bears the old symbols of the previous regime, stands the grandiose parliament building built by China. On November 13th, it hosted the autumn session of the Interparliamentary Assembly of the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS), with Russia among the attendees. 

A vast number of Chinese construction projects are also underway, and Chinese firms have become dominant foreign investors in Tajikistan’s mining sectors. In Dushanbe, nearly all the taxi models are Chinese electric cars, imported directly and often left with their system still formatted in the Chinese language. 

This growing influence has shifted the aspirations of the younger generation. Mukhshulov Muhamadsharif, a 20-year-old student, went to Dushanbe to receive his Chinese student visa. He plans to go to China, learn the language for a year, and then continue his studies there. 

For young Tajiks, going to China has become a new trend, as they believe it offers better educational opportunities, as well as more optimistic conditions for doing business. Mukhshulov’s father, who lives in Russia and is a Russian citizen, strongly supports his decision, especially given the increasingly complex situation for Tajik migrant workers in Russia.

However, the benefits of moving to China aren’t guaranteed. The strict legal and academic requirements for foreign students, combined with the hard job market for foreigners, present obstacles far greater than the cultural and linguistic ones faced in Russia. 

Young Tajiks are therefore caught between one door seemingly closing and another which is not yet fully open. 

While some look to China, others remain tied to the past. Saidali Safoev, a construction master who goes to the job-hunting site every day, has three sons. His two eldest sons are currently studying in Kazan, in Russia’s Volga region. 

According to Saidali, they received a stipend from the university and the government, and they report that life is generally good. The whole family plans to move to Kazan after his youngest son finishes high school in 2026.

The Unresolved 

While men seek opportunities abroad, their wives and children usually remain behind in Tajikistan without them. As is the case across much of the country, in Tajikistan’s Bokhtar, women now go looking for daily work on the street to take care of their children. Their husbands struggle with finding much work or are unable to send back sufficient funds. Some men even have “second families” in Russia, staying there for years and rarely returning to Tajikistan.

The domestic political situation has changed little since the end of the brutal civil war in 1997. On November 24th, university students gathered in Independence Square in Dushanbe for Flag Day. They marched ahead of soldiers, carrying flags, in a parade which brought the capital to a standstill. Some held the headshots of their president, Emomali Rahmon, who has been in power for more than 30 years. 

Yet, for those caught between countries, the future remains uncertain. Behruz Sufizaoda, the student deported in 2022, still wishes to complete his education. After being deported, he joined the army for two years, finished his duty, and now works at a restaurant while hoping to study abroad. 

“I still might go to Russia, but I don’t know,” he said.