In this exquisite book, Tetsu Akiyama uses the biography of a Kyrgyz leader named Shabdan Jantay uulu (ca. 1839–1912) as a case study to explore “the dynamics and the dilemmas of empire-building” (7). On the basis of a far-reaching study of the existing documentation concerning Shabdan's life, in both Russian and Kyrgyz, he successfully argues that Shabdan was no mere collaborator, helping to seamlessly incorporate the Kyrgyz into the Russian empire. Rather, he was an intermediary, moving between indigenous society and imperial authorities. Imperial officials saw in Shabdan a man with the talent, resources, and influence they needed to help them accomplish their goals, be they administration or expansion. Shabdan saw in the empire resources he could use to maintain or strengthen his authority in changing conditions. The baatïr (military raid leader) and the empire sometimes had different goals, or different motivations for working together, but a fragile and dynamic space for cooperation existed during Shabdan's lifetime.

Shabdan, the son of a chief of the branch of the Sarïbaghïsh tribe, made his youthful reputation as a baatïr. It was his distinction on these raids, in combination with his lineage, that secured his growing influence. Kyrgyz chieftains from the 1840s on were between two ambitious empires, Khoqand and Russia. Shabdan's father sought to use Khoqand to restrain his tribal rivals, and the young Shabdan helped to broker the relationship between his father and the khan of Khoqand. Ultimately, however, growing pressure from the Russian side made cooperation with Russia seem a better choice. In this new context, Shabdan's martial prowess, the respect he commanded in Kyrgyz society, and his knowledge of the situation in Khoqand made him a valuable asset to tsarist officials. The Russian colonial administration was “far too feeble” (42) to directly rule the Kyrgyz, bypassing or replacing figures who had been influential before the conquest of Central Asia, and tried instead to incorporate them under the supervision of district-level Russian administrators. Shabdan's role in this system was unofficial but critical: as a baatïr of respected lineage, his influence could help to keep chieftains (manaps) and the Kyrgyz population under control. His reputation as a warrior and ability to mobilize others, too, meant that he could provide security for officials within his district and offer useful service during the Fergana campaigns of 1875–76. Martial prowess among the Kyrgyz had helped Shabdan to rise; channeling his activities into maintaining order and external campaigns suited both his needs and inclinations and those of an expansionist empire.

But with the end of campaigning, the situation changed. Shabdan had to find new ways of securing his power and influence without recourse to raiding at the same time as the empire, now more firmly established, began to regard Kyrgyz elites with suspicion. His position unstable, he sought new sources of authority to supplement his reputation as a baatïr, and found them in both a new economic strategy and a changed relationship with Islam. Both of these strategies, however, came with potential conflict with the imperial state. He sought to change from a nomadic to a sedentary lifestyle, and thus to obtain new sources of wealth; while tsarist officials encouraged this in principle as a positive example for other Kyrgyz to follow, allotting Shabdan the land he requested was at cross purposes with the growing resettlement movement, and his request for land allotment was not completely satisfied. Similarly, his increasing devotion to Islam, which included building a mosque and making the hajj, was “an attractive means of reinforcing his traditional authority” (94), but one that some tsarist officials regarded with suspicion (101). Whereas colonial officials had been deeply dependent on Shabdan in the early years of tsarist rule in Central Asia, towards the end of his life they regarded him with growing distrust. An uneasy peace continued while he was alive, but after his death, colonial officials sought both to prevent his descendants from rising to comparable influence and to do without other intermediaries. One of his sons, Möküsh, was chosen as a rebel leader during the Central Asian Revolt of 1916. He no longer had any compelling reason to remain loyal to the empire, but neither did he have authority comparable to his father's, sufficient to raise a significant force. A more apt illustration of the fragility of Shabdan's relationship with imperial power and the changing priorities of the tsarist state could hardly be desired.

As always with case studies, the question of the degree to which the central figure of the study was representative—and of what—lurks in the background. By dint of his family background and the resources on which he drew, Shabdan was in some respects an exceptional figure. But this quibble should not diminish the importance of Akiyama's accomplishment. Just as Michael Khodarkovsky used a biographical case study to detail the “bitter choices” intermediaries faced during the tsarist conquest of the Caucasus, Akiyama has wonderfully illustrated the reaction of nomadic Central Asian elites to a world changed by imperial conquest. Russian dominance foreclosed some paths and opened others; to engage with imperial officials was neither to resist nor collaborate, but simply to adapt.