Investigation by Gulnara Bazhkenova: How Billions Have Been Stolen Along the China–Kazakhstan Border

Billions of dollars vanish every year along Kazakhstan’s customs lines, quietly landing in smugglers’ accounts.

Behind these flows lie entrenched criminal networks, political patrons, and a lucrative system of corruption. In an investigation for ORDA News, Orda.kz editor-in-chief Gulnara Bazhkenova details who controls the criminal operations at Khorgos, how smuggling clans form, and why the system persists despite official promises of reform.

Not Proven, But Everybody Knows

For years, billions of tenge have disappeared at Kazakhstan’s customs borders. Organized groups use classic tactics — protection rackets, kickbacks, and intimidation when needed. They operate with impunity because their sponsors occupy some of the highest offices in the country.

Entrepreneurs and officials alike have long been aware of the problem. People whispered about it in hallways, hinted in private, but no one dared to say it aloud through official channels.

Then, one day, the truth came out — not from an activist, an opposition figure, or a lawmaker, but from the president himself.

In a speech to parliament, President Qasym-Jomart Toqayev said that enormous sums had been vanishing at the border for years, costing the state billions in transit fees and customs duties:

The real chaos that is going on there is well known. Cars are not inspected, taxes and duties are not paid. Discrepancies in mirror statistics with the customs authorities of China reach billions of dollars. There are some authorized operators who have the status of untouchables. The country loses tens of billions of tenge in taxes. This cannot continue.

The previous record shortfall — $7.6 billion — was in 2019, before Qantar events.

The president said the cause was clear: smuggling at the border crossings between Kazakhstan and China.

The chaos at the Kazakhstan–China border was emblematic of the “Old Kazakhstan.” Everyone knew about the corruption, and everyone knew who stood behind it — the Nazarbayev family. Yet no violations by companies linked to Anipa Nazarbayeva, Bolat Nazarbayev, or the transport and logistics firms of Dariga Nazarbayeva and Kairat Satybaldyulu were ever proven — then or now.

In January 2022, Toqayev made his now-historic pledge:

Together we’ll overcome every challenge. Together we’ll build a ‘New Kazakhstan.’

Almost four years later, however, many of the same schemes have survived the transition. Bazhkenova’s investigation tracks how they’ve re-emerged under new leadership.

She interviewed people across the Khorgos logistics chain — drivers, freight forwarders, customs brokers, company directors, and ordinary customers waiting for goods from abroad. She analyzed open data, including Chinese customs reports, Kazakhstan’s official statistics, and figures from the UN global trade database.

I spoke with experts off the record, with insiders. Based on the information I gathered, I will tell you about facts that are both widely known, and known only within closed circles. But, just like in the case of the Nazarbayev family syndicate, they will never be proven — unless, of course, the competent authorities decide to take them up, she said.

Facts and Figures

After January 2022, when the Nazarbayev family lost its hold on the borders, the data gap between China and Kazakhstan didn’t shrink — it grew. By 2024, it had hit an all-time high.

According to Chinese data in the UN global trade database, exports to Kazakhstan totaled $27.95 billion, while Kazakhstan’s own data in the same UN database show imports from China amounting to $15.15 billion.

Indeed, China counts exports, while Kazakhstan counts imports. But in the latter case, logistics and insurance are also included — meaning Kazakhstan’s figures should be at least 10 percent higher, not lower.

The Ministry of Trade defended the discrepancy by saying that China records as imports everything that enters Kazakhstan, whereas Kazakhstan counts only what remains in the country. Yet even under that logic, the gap should never be this large. And by using such accounting, Kazakhstan effectively turns a blind eye to gray schemes and falsified customs declarations on re-exports.

For example, in 2024, China reported $3.8 billion worth of knitwear exports to Kazakhstan, while Kazakhstan listed barely $1 billion in imports. The OECD, which relies more on Chinese figures, estimated Kazakhstan’s total textile and clothing imports at over $5 billion, with $3 billion from China.

The mismatch spans nearly every category of goods.

The New “Overseers”

Before 2022, the Nazarbayev family’s presence at the border was an open secret. They controlled customs flows and reaped billion-dollar profits from contraband.

After the family’s fall, the government handed control to a new team — officially tasked with cleaning up corruption and smuggling. The operation was led by former foreign minister Murat Nurtleu and run day-to-day by Gadji Gadjiev, now a widely known figure.

But according to Bazhkenova, the real power behind the border lies elsewhere:

What the general public doesn’t know is that, in both the old and the new Kazakhstan, the border is ‘protected’ by the National Security Committee (KNB). The loud ‘Khorgos case’ of the 2010s showed this clearly — it began as a conflict between the KNB and the Financial Police over control of smuggling. The Financial Police won, though it was a Pyrrhic victory, Bazhkenova emphasized.

After 2022, the KNB never really left. The old overseers went to prison, and new ones took their place — including some who had never served in the KNB before.

One of them is Ali Altynbayev, the KNB’s first deputy chair. Until 2022, he had never worked in national-security structures. His career had been in the Ministry of Finance’s revenue service and the Department of Economic Investigations in Almaty — and then, he landed a top post in the National Security Committee.

Several people, literally shaking with fear, named him to me as the main handler of the Kazakhstan–China border for the past three years. In certain circles that fact is well known, which is why I’m willing to say it out loud. Ali Altynbayev is the strategic handler — without him, as one source put it, not even a fly could cross the border today. He oversees everything down to the ground itself. You can’t lease a single plot at Khorgos without his permission, Bazhkenova said.

According to the sources, Altynbayev’s position as the key figure on the customs frontier only strengthened after Murat Nurtleu’s political downfall.

Although Gadji Gadjiev has lately been cast as Khorgos’s main villain, Bazhkenova stresses that he, while influential, is merely an executor who follows Altynbayev’s orders.

Truckers say that after September 5, chaos erupted on the Kazakh–Chinese border — not as bad as at the Russian frontier, but bad enough. Long lines of trucks formed at Khorgos and Nur Zholy; they moved, but slowly.

The people who spoke with me had already paid their dues. They called Gadji Gadjiev and told him, ‘You took the money — now fix the problem.’ And the problem was fixed. The border is operating in manual mode, Bazhkenova noted.

She pointed out how the work of the Nurtleu–Gadjiev–Altynbayev team — originally put in charge to fight smuggling and corruption — veered off course.

According to sources, on October 5, a meeting was held on the Chinese side of Khorgos bringing together 250 directors of logistics warehouses. They, too, discussed how to deal with the issues — and raised another that hit especially close to home.

Their warehouses have stood half-empty for the past two years. Everyone bringing cargo across the Kazakh border has been ordered to store and clear goods for customs in two new large cargo centers on the Chinese side — there, and nowhere else.

In these two massive centers, traders involved in cross-border commerce say, a bribe of about $25,000 per truck is routinely collected. Yet when a truck actually crosses into Kazakhstan, it typically pays only around 25,000 tenge — roughly $50 — to the state budget, since most goods are declared under the lowest customs category, the so-called “homogeneous goods” class, which includes various types of fabric.

Businesses can’t afford to wait, so most simply pay the fee.

According to sources, there’s also a fixed “price” for freight-forwarding companies that escort the cargo. The going rate is a 70/30 split — they must surrender 70% of their fees to the Khorgos power holders and keep only 30% for themselves.

Centralized Smuggling

The operation of the cargo centers on the Chinese side of Khorgos deserves special attention. Kazakhstan invested significant money and effort into their creation.

At first glance, the idea seemed logical: channel all imports and exports through a single window to bring order. But in practice, smuggling became centralized and systematized, replacing the chaotic model where everyone took their own cut.

There are also less obvious factors — like how the money from cross-border smuggling moves. For about a year and a half now, the bribes have been collected on the Chinese side. That cash never even reaches Kazakhstan — it flows straight into banks in Southeast Asia: Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia.
And those two cargo centers, where every truck — Kazakh, Chinese, Russian, Uzbek — must stop before crossing from China into Kazakhstan, create a unique unified database of all goods entering Kazakhstan from China. That information is priceless for anyone with access. And if you’re a marketplace, the value isn’t just billions in profit — over time, it means monopoly, explained Gulnara Bazhkenova.

Judging by their scale and timing, the most likely candidate for Kazakh ownership is Khorgos Inland Port International Logistics Park. In just two years, it has built massive capacity — bonded warehouses, cross-border e-commerce operations. It handles parcels and marketplace shipments. 

The second center, Khorgos Eurasia International Supply Chain, launched in May 2023 and expanded rapidly — from a handful of trucks to 10,000 per month in less than two years. It has become a major logistics hub for unloading and document reprocessing.

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine also played a key role. With Western sanctions isolating Moscow, smuggling networks evolved to unprecedented levels starting in 2022. The focus of smugglers shifted toward bypassing sanctions through gray transit, bribery, and falsified documents.

The main goods include electronics, smartphones, drones, chips, consumer products, clothing, footwear, cars, equipment, and other sanctioned items.

The schemes are based on false transit. Goods are declared as imports into Kazakhstan, but in reality move duty-free to Russia under the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) framework. Corruption and bribes range from 5–20% of cargo value. The organizers are Chinese exporters along with Kazakh and Russian firms.

A well-tuned gray transit system now channels Chinese goods through Kazakhstan into Russia. Russian distributors such as Ostec and Mirtrans order products from Chinese companies at full price, but Kazakh documentation lists them at a fraction of that — for instance, a $50,000–$100,000 shipment declared as only $10,000–$20,000.

Kazakh trucking firms like KBR-Trans and Eurotransit Cargo are formally responsible for delivery through the Khorgos and Nur Joly checkpoints. According to drivers interviewed, unofficial payments at the border range from $200–$500 per truck to avoid inspection, scanning, or delays.

For fake customs clearance or to bypass control altogether, transporters pay 5–10% of the cargo’s value — typically $2,500–$10,000. Inside Kazakhstan, trucks continue to move thanks to “road payments” of $50–$200 per stretch, handed to police officers to avoid stops and checks.

Once across Kazakhstan, trucks bearing fake customs stamps exit through posts such as Sagarchin, where Russian customs officers receive $500–$2,000 for expedited passage.

Billions lost at the border settle in the gray zones of the economy — between trucks, warehouses, and offshore accounts — turning Kazakhstan into one of Eurasia’s largest hubs of shadow trade.

And now, Russia has further loosened control. By Presidential Decree of Vladimir Putin on October 28, the rules for importing goods from Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan have been temporarily relaxed, allowing shipments without labeling or full documentation until December 10.

Experts say this move will only worsen Kazakhstan’s already grim gray-import situation. The topic of borders and trade barriers is expected to feature prominently in the upcoming Toqayev–Putin talks.

Flocking Together

In an ecosystem like Kazakhstan’s power structure, clans and factions inevitably form, bound by patron–client ties. Everyone belongs to someone; around each figure gathers a circle of loyal allies, while others join when it suits their interests. That’s how it was under Nazarbayev — and that’s how it remains today, said Gulnara Bazhkenova.

She noted that some politicians have tried to stay independent. One of them was Qasym-Jomart Toqayev before his presidency. But making it alone is difficult, she said — so people from government circles form teams.

The Khorgos group, she explained, is a product of that same convergence. Those who have controlled the border since 2022 have formed a tight network: former presidential chief of staff and ex–foreign minister Murat Nurtleu, KNB deputy chair Ali Altynbayev, businessman Gadji Gadjiev, and oligarch Vyacheslav Kim.

Nurtleu was once considered the leader, but according to my information, today he controls nothing — not even Khorgos. The collapse likely began earlier. That summer, while still foreign minister, he visited Khorgos twice — in June and July — which was strange in itself. Why would a foreign minister visit a border crossing? People saw him there, were surprised, and told reporters, Bazhkenova recounted.

According to her, the group’s patron is Aibek Dadebay, head of the presidential administration. Today, he is the person who determines what information — and in what form — reaches the head of state. That makes him a figure of strategic importance.

Although such formations are often called clans, Bazhkenova said this one is better described as a situational alliance — people who have simply realized their mutual usefulness.

According to my information, Askhat Zhumagali tried to alert the president about what was happening — about what these people were doing at Khorgos and beyond. But by mid-2025, he had lost. The agency itself was far from perfect — entrepreneurs complained of harassment and fabricated cases. Yet even so, Zhumagali may have sincerely tried to stop the Khorgos group, Bazhkenova added.

In the end, she said, Aibek Dadebay played the decisive role in dismantling the Anti-Corruption Agency. It was he who ensured that a detailed memo about the agency reached the president’s desk — along with the proposal to eliminate it entirely, not just dismiss Zhumagali.

The idea of merging it into the KNB, which made the tool easier to control, came from Murat Nurtleu.

But after the SCO summit on September 4–5, the situation changed. It seems the president finally connected the dots. On October 18, Askhat Zhumagali was brought back into government service — a real sensation, since every observer I spoke with believed his dismissal was final, a punishment, that he’d never return. Yet he did — as Deputy Prosecutor General. That’s no coincidence. It looks like he’s been tasked with cleaning out the Augean stables of Khorgos, where new schemes have grown atop the old ones, Bazhkenova said confidently.

In her view, the only question now is whether one group will simply replace another — a familiar pattern in Kazakhstan.

In the 2010s, there was a war between the Financial Police, led by Kairat Kozhamzharov, and the KNB. It ended with the notorious Khorgos case. Now, a similar scenario is unfolding: two rival power groups are fighting again — and once more, Khorgos and its smuggling empire are at the center.

According to sources, the issue should be resolved before the New Year — including whether Gadji Gadjiev will remain the “overseer” at the border. Without him, the two giant cargo centers can’t function effectively, as everything runs through him.

But dismantling the existing system too abruptly could throw the border into chaos once again.

Original Author: Anastasia Prilepskaya