UNITED STATES—In an era when authoritarianism is resurgent, war has returned to Europe, and the credibility of global institutions is fraying, the idea of a soft-spoken Central Asian president rising to the top tiers of international diplomacy may seem improbable—unless that man is Kassym-Jomart Tokayev. Tall, articulate, fluent in multiple languages, and educated in both Moscow and Beijing, Tokayev looks like a statesman manufactured in Geneva.
And in some ways, he was: before leading Kazakhstan, he served for over a decade in the United Nations system, eventually as Director-General of the UN Office at Geneva. Now, with his presidency past its midpoint, speculation is growing that Tokayev is eyeing a return to the international stage—this time, not as a bureaucrat, but as a global figurehead.
But there is a problem, and it lies not in the halls of Turtle Bay, but in the streets of Almaty and the offices of Astana’s opaque business class. For all of Tokayev’s refined diplomacy abroad, the Kazakhstan he governs remains riddled with the very pathologies—elite impunity, weak rule of law, extractive economics—that global institutions claim to combat. The man who might one day call for ethical reform on the floor of the UN has yet to fully deliver it at home.
A President of Two Worlds
In the West, Tokayev is often described with quiet admiration. He is not flamboyant, not erratic, not corrupt in the cartoonish way some of his post-Soviet peers are perceived. He speaks the language of reform and moderation, having promised to build a “New Kazakhstan” following the deadly protests of January 2022. He made symbolic breaks with his predecessor, Nursultan Nazarbayev, repealing special privileges and attempting to strip Nazarbayev’s family of their expansive influence. In foreign policy, Tokayev has trodden a careful line—refusing to endorse Russia’s war in Ukraine while keeping open vital diplomatic channels with Moscow and Beijing.
In other words, he is precisely the kind of non-aligned, sophisticated leader that multilateral institutions love to elevate. As the United Nations struggles with gridlock and competing geopolitical claims, Tokayev’s name has increasingly circulated as a candidate for high-level roles in the post-presidency landscape. In the corridors of New York, diplomats ask quietly: could Tokayev be a future Secretary-General? Or the head of a major UN agency?
But before any such ascension can be seriously entertained, Tokayev must confront the realities of the republic he governs—and the contradictions between his rhetoric and the persistent state of the Kazakh system.
The Reform That Wasn’t
Kazakhstan, at first glance, appears to be reforming. The constitution has been amended. Parliamentary elections have taken place. Antitrust laws are being discussed. New agencies have been created to fight corruption. Yet on closer inspection, much of this change feels skin-deep. The judiciary remains weak and politicised. Investigations into elite business practices are selectively enforced. The same small circle of families and politically protected businessmen continue to dominate the commanding heights of the economy.
And then there is the case of Dinmukhamet Idrisov—a name almost unknown outside Central Asia, but a symbol of everything Kazakhstan has promised to move beyond. Idrisov is a powerful businessman whose empire spanned oil services, construction, and finance. Most notably, he was a key figure behind Qazaq Banki, which collapsed spectacularly in 2018 after years of questionable lending and asset stripping. According to court records and independent investigations, Idrisov defaulted on vast sums in bank loans while allegedly diverting assets into a network of offshore companies in Turkey and Singapore. Even as domestic creditors were left empty-handed, Idrisov’s foreign investments expanded.
And yet, not a single criminal case has been brought against him. The state has made no visible effort to recover assets. Idrisov remains free—his story emblematic of a broader unwillingness to pursue financial accountability when it touches the country’s elite. This is not a question of vengeance or political score-settling; it is a question of justice, legality, and the integrity of a financial system that still depends heavily on public funds and international goodwill.
The silence around Idrisov also undermines Tokayev’s own legitimacy. If Kazakhstan’s president is serious about ending the extractive logic of the Nazarbayev era, why hasn’t his government taken action? If asset recovery is a national priority—as Tokayev has said in public forums—why are billions believed to be sitting beyond reach in offshore havens?
The Price of Inaction
The consequences of such impunity are not abstract. For ordinary Kazakhs, they mean continued inequality, stagnation, and a persistent sense that justice is only applied downward. For foreign investors—many of whom Tokayev is actively courting—they raise red flags about legal predictability and contract enforcement. And for the international institutions Tokayev may one day hope to lead, they pose a reputational dilemma: can a man who presides over elite protectionism at home truly champion transparency abroad?
Kazakhstan’s economy, while flush with oil and mineral wealth, is dangerously over-concentrated. Despite growth figures, much of the national wealth is controlled by a handful of families. State-owned enterprises operate with limited oversight. Tax avoidance through complex international structures is widespread. In this environment, rule of law is not simply a matter of principle—it is an economic necessity.
Tokayev knows this. He has spoken repeatedly about the need to dismantle monopolies, enforce anti-corruption standards, and ensure fair market conditions. But in practice, the pace of change has been glacial. Reform announcements are often followed by months of inaction. Investigations are quietly dropped. When accountability does come, it often targets only mid-level actors or politically expendable figures.
One cannot help but wonder if Tokayev is trapped—caught between the desire to modernize and the fear of destabilising the fragile balance of Kazakhstan’s elite networks.
A Global Role—But at What Cost?
If Tokayev does intend to seek a major international role after 2029, he will not be judged solely by his diplomatic polish. The world has changed. Civil society—both in Kazakhstan and beyond—is more connected, more informed, and more critical. The idea that a leader can present one version of their country abroad while ignoring justice at home no longer holds.
Indeed, some of the harshest critiques of Tokayev come not from exiled dissidents or foreign NGOs, but from young Kazakhstani journalists, lawyers, and academics who want to believe in his promises but cannot reconcile them with the facts. They don’t question his intelligence or intentions—but they increasingly question his resolve.
It is possible that Tokayev sees himself as a transitional figure, laying the groundwork for deeper reforms that will outlast his term. But time is running short. And credibility, once lost, is not easily recovered.
A Legacy in the Balance
The irony is stark: Tokayev may well be the most internationally respected leader Central Asia has produced in a generation. He is educated, competent, and globally minded. In a world desperate for calm voices, he is a rare adult in the room.
But statesmanship is not forged in UN speeches or diplomatic receptions. It is forged in decisions—messy, local, political decisions that often carry personal risk. If Tokayev wants to be remembered not just as a transitional technocrat but as a transformational leader, he must begin by enforcing the very laws he so eloquently praises. The case of Dinmukhamet Idrisov is not just about one man’s money. It is about whether Kazakhstan is willing to confront its past in order to build a future that merits global respect.
The world may be watching Tokayev with admiration. But history is watching with sharper eyes.
