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Call it the Great Game, round three. The first such contest, famously chronicled by Rudyard Kipling, involved the 19th century struggle for dominance between the British and Russian empires over access to India and its lucrative trading routes. The second centered on the post-Soviet scramble for resources and influence in energy-rich Central Asia. Today, a third such round of geopolitical competition is emerging in South Asia, spurred by the vast energy potential of the post-Soviet space and the uncertain political disposition of Afghanistan.

Last month, this competition took a giant step forward when Afghan President Hamid Karzai met with the presidents of Turkmenistan and Pakistan, as well as with India's oil and gas minister, in the Turkmen capital of Ashgabat. The meeting netted an agreement to begin construction of a new natural gas route known as the Turkmenistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan-India pipeline in two years' time.

Practically overnight, it seems, the "Jasmine Revolution" that has swept over Tunisia has reshuffled the geopolitical deck in the greater Middle East.

Over the span of less than three weeks, protests over unemployment and political restrictions in the sleepy North African nation became a nationwide phenomenon, challenging the country's long-serving president, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, and his ruling Constitutional Democratic Rally. In the face of this widespread dissatisfaction, Ben Ali blinked, making a number of major political concessions—among them, announcing he would step down as president once his term was up in 2014, and putting curbs on the national military's use of force in dealing with the protests (thereby effectively giving the opposition free reign of the streets). Rather than mollify his opponents, however, these conciliatory measures only served to embolden them, and less than 24 hours later Ben Ali had fled the country for the relative safety of Saudi Arabia. Since then, political turmoil has reigned, as remaining politicians have attempted to cobble together a durable interim government in the face of ongoing public discontent.

In the process, Tunisia's popular uprising has become a model of sorts. The catalyst for Tunisia's turmoil—the self-immolation of an unemployed 28-year-old vegetable seller—already has spurred copycats throughout the region (specifically, in Egypt, Mauritania and Algeria). And in many quarters, there is new hope of movement toward true democracy in the historically-stagnant Middle East. "Tunisia is now the model to follow for all Arabs," one hopeful Algerian has told Reuters. "The time for dictators and dictatorships is over."

Are Iran's democratic stirrings truly a thing of the past? Ever since the so-called Green Movement coalesced in the wake of the country's fraudulent June 2009 presidential vote, Western observers have rushed to write its epitaph.

Over the past year, more than a few Iran watchers have argued that the internal contradictions within Iran's opposition movement doom it to failure and that, as a result, Washington has no alternative but to engage with Iran's ayatollahs. Similarly, some media outlets, in reporting the Green Movement's lackluster showing during Ashura celebrations in mid-December, have suggested that Iran's once-vibrant democracy drive has run out of gas. Still others have concluded that, at least when it comes to mobilization and mass protest, the Green Movement should now be considered largely defunct.

But is it? Unquestionably, the wave of opposition that swept over Iran in the summer of 2009 has receded significantly. Organizationally, Iranian democrats' lack of sustained leadership and the absence of a unifying common vision have served to undermine their long-term cohesion. Practically, these opposition activists gradually have been cowed into passivity by the widespread brutality of the regime's domestic militia, the Basij. Any yet, if the Iranian government's recent machinations are any indication, the powers-that-be in Tehran are far less certain than are Western foreign-policy experts that Iran's democratic impulses have withered on the vine.

The late-December sentence handed down by a Moscow court against Mikhail Khodorkovsky should have surprised no one. Ever since the Kremlin launched new legal proceedings against the former oil tycoon about three years ago, a guilty verdict was a foregone conclusion. Still, the repeat conviction of Khodorkovsky, already serving an eight-year term in a Siberian jail, to an additional six years in prison on fresh (and blatantly fabricated) charges speaks volumes about the receding rule of law in Russia. So, too, does Washington's apparent ambivalence about it.

The Senate's passage this week of New Start, the latest U.S.-Russian arms-control treaty, was greeted with some jeers in Washington, where worries over its technical deficiencies persist in spite of White House reassurances. Here in Russia's capital, however, news of New Start's ratification was met overwhelmingly with cheers of approval from officials and experts alike.

More than anything else, however, Russian leaders see New Start as a political victory confirming that their country still matters to Washington and on the international stage writ large. Some Russian officials also have taken it as affirmation that, under President Obama, the United States has adopted a hands-off approach to Russia's interests and political system.