In the summer of 2009, statues stood leaning in a yard, beyond Independence Square in Astana. The situation was incongruous and constituted an enigma: Why were these monuments left alone in shambles? This paper argues that nationalistic city making is more of a resource for people involved in patron/client relationships and a contingent outcome, rather than a planned strategy. This case study, drawing on evidence gathered through qualitative methods with artists and urban-planners, hence reveals a paradox: in Kazakhstan, there surely is a state incentive to produce nationalistic symbols, but in the absence of a mid-term strategy, city-planners and the people they work with improvise in order to answer local authorities' demands, and use this opportunity to advance their own interests. Hence, the political production of space is considered a fuzzy process, contingent on the agency of multiple subjects, and treated as an outcome of Foucauldian “micro-physics of power.” But even though it is erratic, it still creates the built environment which will be reacted upon by citizens. Finally, this sociopolitical perspective on nationalistic urbanism demonstrates that Astana's scenery is a fuzzy “landscape of power” instituting an erratic Kazakhstani regime, based on the political economy of symbolic goods.

In December 1997, the Republic of Kazakhstan officially proclaimed that the city of Astana would be its new capital. The decision to transfer the seat of government from the city of Almaty in the south to the more centrally located Astana was connected to the process of nation building in a multi-ethnic society where the titular nation represents little more than half of the population. Efforts to transform the rather remote regional center, Akmola (later renamed Astana) into a modern capital city have been underway since the late 1990s. One important component of this transformation is the idea of building a “metabolic” and sustainable “Eurasian” city. As the symbolic center of the whole country, this new capital would function as a showpiece of Kazakh culture and identity. The city would also become a symbol of economic prosperity and the regime's geopolitical vision. While the government's intensions are expressed rather openly, it remains unclear to what extent these politically verbalized leitmotivs are actually being realized through contemporary architecture and structure. This article offers a critical assessment of what has been achieved to date and argues that the production of the new Kazakhstani capital has often failed to translate rhetoric into reality.