The Rogun Dam: Tajikistan’s High-Stakes Gamble to Power Its Future

I once stood at the edge of the Vakhsh River, imagining what it would take to control a force that carved valleys for centuries. Today, that same river faces transformation from one of the world’s most ambitious and controversial megaprojects the Rogun Dam. At 335 meters, this dam will surpass China’s Jinping-I as the tallest dam on Earth, rising even higher than the Eiffel Tower.

But what makes this story extraordinary isn’t just the scale. It’s that Tajikistan, one of the world’s poorest nations, is the country building it on its own, against the odds.

A Nation in the Dark

For decades, Tajikistan lived in the shadow of blackouts. Power cuts were routine. Economic instability and political unrest made it nearly impossible to plan long-term infrastructure. Winters brought darkness to remote villages and urban neighborhoods alike. Tajikistan needed a solution not just to light homes, but to jumpstart its economy and assert its independence on the world stage.

Hydropower was its natural answer. With 90 percent of its terrain made up of mountains and deep river valleys, Tajikistan holds some of the greatest untapped hydroelectric potential in Central Asia. And Rogun, if completed, could generate 3,600 megawatts of clean energy, enough to power more than 10 million homes across the region.

But ambition alone couldn’t build this dam.

A Soviet Dream That Collapsed

The story of Rogun began under the Soviet Union in the 1970s. Construction had barely started when the USSR fell apart in 1991. Tajikistan gained independence but lost everything else. A brutal civil war erupted, halting all progress. In the chaos of war, a catastrophic flood destroyed early work on the dam. The dream, it seemed, was lost.

By the time peace returned in 1997, the country was devastated. The incomplete dam sat idle just a shell of concrete and steel on the riverbank. Finishing the project would require billions of dollars, a figure that dwarfed Tajikistan’s entire national budget. Still, the idea never died.

The Russians Step In Then Pull Out

Hope returned in 2004, when Russian aluminum giant Rusal offered to invest in Rogun’s completion. But optimism quickly faded. Rusal wanted a smaller, cheaper version of the dam. Tajik engineers refused. A shorter dam would cut energy output by one-third, undermining the project’s core purpose.

Negotiations dragged on for years before Rusal withdrew in 2007, leaving Tajikistan alone again.

A Nation Funds Its Own Megaproject

Desperate for progress, the Tajik government launched a public share offering in 2010. The campaign was sold as a patriotic duty but beneath the surface, the reality was harsh. Public sector workers had their wages deducted without consent. Students and families were pressured to contribute. International investors stayed away, citing poor governance and forced contributions.

Still, the country scraped together what it could. Every step forward was hard-fought.

A Regional Flashpoint

Then came another challenge Uzbekistan. The Vakhsh River feeds into the Amu Darya, one of Central Asia’s most important water sources for agriculture. Uzbekistan feared that Rogun’s reservoir would reduce downstream flow and destroy its cotton industry.

In 2012, tensions escalated to the point where Uzbekistan threatened war. The message was clear: Tajikistan could not build this dam without facing consequences. But Tajikistan held its ground. The government argued that the dam would regulate water flow more effectively not reduce it.

The region watched as the conflict simmered, a reminder that water security in Central Asia is as much a geopolitical issue as it is environmental.

A Bulldozer and a Statement

In 2016, a symbolic moment changed everything. Tajik President Emomali Rahmon climbed into a bulldozer and physically blocked the Vakhsh River himself, signaling that the project was officially back on track.

This wasn’t a PR stunt. It was a defiant act a statement to the world that Tajikistan was serious.

Shortly after, Italian construction giant Salini Impregilo (now Webuild Group) secured a $184 million contract to restart heavy construction. The total estimated cost to finish the dam was now $3.9 billion, and climbing.

Real Progress, Real Power

By 2018 and 2019, Rogun’s first two hydroelectric units went live. The turbines roared to life, injecting much-needed electricity into the country’s fragile grid. These achievements marked a shift: Rogun was no longer a dream. It was real, and it was working.

The energy these turbines produced helped stabilize winter power supplies for the first time in years. Tajikistan even began exporting electricity to neighboring Afghanistan and Pakistan.

The Human and Environmental Cost

But not everything about Rogun inspired celebration. The human cost became harder to ignore. Over 7,000 people were already displaced by the rising waters of the reservoir, with an estimated 42,000 more expected to lose their homes. Entire villages were demolished. Cemeteries were relocated. Cultural heritage was lost.

Beyond the human toll, the dam poses a serious threat to the Tigrovaya Balka Nature Reserve, a UNESCO-listed site. Environmental groups raised alarms about habitat destruction, biodiversity loss, and the risk of permanent damage to one of Central Asia’s last untouched floodplain forests.

A Delayed Finish and a Heavier Price

By 2023, the cost of the dam had surged to $6.2 billion more than 70 percent higher than early estimates. The target completion date moved from 2028 to 2035, and technical delays, funding gaps, and the global COVID-19 crisis continued to slow progress.

Still, Tajikistan pressed on.

The World Bank has monitored the project since the early 2010s but has hesitated to commit large-scale funding due to concerns over transparency, debt sustainability, and regional tensions. Yet smaller development banks and bilateral partners have stepped in to keep momentum alive.

A Gamble That Could Define a Generation

Rogun isn’t just a dam. It’s a national identity project like Three Gorges Dam. It symbolizes hope, resilience, and a belief that even the poorest nation can rise through sheer determination. But it also raises difficult questions: Is it wise for a fragile economy to pour nearly half its GDP into a single project? What happens if the dam fails politically, environmentally, or structurally?

For many Tajiks, it’s a price they’re willing to pay. Because for the first time in decades, the lights are staying on. Industries have a reason to grow. And the world is watching.