Tuesday, November 30, 2010
When in doubt, blame the Islamists
Despite widespread panic, Monday’s gun battle in Osh was localised and is reported to be due to a state security raid to arrest Islamic Militants. The State National Security Services are eager to state that they have the situation under control and that they ‘will not allow any massacres and clashes.’ It’s a shame they didn’t feel the same way in June.
While they may not be allowing any violence on the same scale as the mass killing and destruction earlier this year, yesterday’s events are part of a concerning pattern of intimidation and detention of ethnic Uzbeks in which combating ‘terrorism’ and ‘radical Islam’ is being used as a guise for the abuse of human rights.
The explosion and gun battle that sparked fear of a reprisal of June’s violence were part of an operation by the State National Security Services to capture ‘nationalist separatists’ accused of planning acts of terror. As a result one of those targeted detonated an explosion in which he was killed, and three others were killed by gunfire while attempting to evade security forces. This follows arrests six days before the Osh events in which nine Kyrgyz citizens were arrested for planning terrorist attacks aimed at destabilizing the socio-political situation.
In a statement to the news agency 24.kg Zarylbek Rysaliev, Minster of Internal Affairs emphasised that those arrested on November 22nd were of Uzbek, Kyrgyz and Russian ethnicity, and are not linked to any international terrorist or extremist organisation. Official statements about yesterday’s events are not as clear, with suggestions the raid was targeted at the ‘detention of dangerous criminals, members of the religious and separatist movement’. Reuters indicates that the operation involved one of the two nemeses of the Karimov regime and the Kyrgyz government: the outlawed Hizb ut-Tahrir and the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU).
At this point conclusions drawn from this single event are mere speculation. We don’t know, and probably never will, whether those who died were indeed involved with the IMU or Hizb ut-Tahrir, whether they were members of a nationalist separatist movement, or indeed neither. Their ethnicity too remains unclear.
Yet, postured within the context of oppression and intimidation of the ethnic Uzbek minority in Kyrgyzstan, and the frequent use of the word ‘Islamist’ and ‘terrorist’ in justifying arrests and detention in many of these cases, Monday’s events are indicative of a concerning trend.
While in Osh in September I met Alisher sitting outside his shop, with a curious mixture of décor due to being half gutted by arson in the June events, and half fitted out with new stalls and stock thanks to US Aid (the very large poster on the wall showed all who came that the replenishment was thanks to the people of the USA). He told me of his arrest in August. ‘The police came to the mosque and arrested me along with several others after Friday prayers. We were charged with inciting hatred and mobilising young Uzbeks to attack Kyrgyz during the violence, and with being religious extremists.’ He added, ‘Young men are too scared to go to the mosque now. We pray at home.’
The trend extends to journalists and human rights activists, labelled as members of separatist groups and arrested. Since the violence in Osh in June several prominent Uzbek human rights activists have been detained on charges relating to inciting violence and being involved in Islamist groups. On 15th September Azimjon Askarov was sentenced to life imprisonment for his involvement in June’s clashes and other charges including possessing extremist literature, despite widespread condemnation.
Playing the ‘Islamic radicalism’ card to achieve other means is not new in Central Asia. President Karimov of Uzbekistan is an expert, using the ‘terrorist’ label to clamp down on any opposition to his regime, as famously highlighted by Craig Murray, former British Ambassador to Uzbekistan, back in 2004.
Perhaps the most spectacular of Karimov’s attempts to cover up his persecution of those he considers a threat to his autonomy by citing Islamic radicalism were the Andijan events of May 2005. Several prominent businessmen in the city involved in a cooperative were arrested on the pretext of Islamic extremism, evoking an unanticipated public demonstration of support. While portraying the events on state television as an Islamist group attempting to gain control of the city, Uzbek Security Services fired into the crowd killing several hundred in what has since been described as a massacre. A report published last week by the refugee group Anjidan Justice and Revival recounts the events in detail, based on the stories of survivors now living in the diaspora.
The stand off between Kyrgyz Security Services and ‘terrorists’ yesterday marks a trend sweeping the divided nation. There is no doubt that some in Kyrgyzstan do want a separatist state, and freedom from persecution because of their religion or ethnicity. But we need to see beyond the smokescreen of ‘fighting terror’ created by the West and now used to deceive it, to the oppression of ethnic minorities by state security services.
One only has to look at the Wikileaks revelations from Iraq and Afghanistan to see the dangers inherent in the abandonment of human rights standards for the new norm ‘do whatever you like in the name of the eradication of terrorism.’ In Afghanistan, Iraq and Guantanamo Bay this has incited a deeper level of hatred and extremism- there’s no reason to suggest it wont do the same in Central Asia.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Demotix Snapshot of the Day
Caption: Osh bazaar is one of the largest bazaars in Bishkek but it has changed dramatically with violence that has ravaged the city of Osh in June this year and destroyed almost all the infrastructure of the bazaar. Kyrgyzstan.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Lost livelihoods and destroyed hope in Osh's Bazaar
Firoza smiles at me revealing her gold teeth so characteristic of Central Asia. A seventy- five year old ethnic Tajik, she has worked in Osh Bazaar since she was twelve years old. At the front of an abandoned section of the bazaar Firoza arranges her selection of black mashi, a unique type of boot, on the wooden slats of her stall. As she holds them out to me with her henna painted fingernails, her husband sits beside her, amused at our conversation and her attempts to sell a Central Asian necessity to a Westerner.
Osh Bazaar, located on the left bank of the Ak-Bura river, has changed dramatically during the sixty-three years that Firoza has worked there. The violence that ravaged the city of Osh in June this year destroyed almost all the infrastructure of the bazaar — a former thriving hub of commerce is now a shell of destroyed livelihoods and lost hope.
Wandering off the main street of the bazaar into the side streets that once contained a flourishing meat market, a gold quarter, and hundreds of choixonas, the silence and destruction are at times overwhelming. Scraps of material flutter in the breeze while rubble, dust and bricks sit untouched, surrounding remnants of businesses and livelihoods destroyed in four short days. Naked meat hooks glisten in the sun.
The spray-painted ‘Kyrgyz’ and ‘Sart’ on the doors of containers served as a threat to the predominantly Uzbek business community, which has vanished, frightened into silence and submission. Occasional clues reveal information about the owners of the destroyed businesses amongst the charred remnants of livelihoods — a pair of old men’s trousers, a fake orange flower, charred flower pots. In most cases businesses are unidentifiable due to the looting and targeted destruction that took place. Signs for ‘meat’ and ‘eggs’, even ‘billiards’ and ‘plov’ can be found behind broken flame-licked glass.
Once vibrant, with goods imported and distributed from all over Central Asia, the now-subdued bazaar now hosts blackened containers with padlocks wrenched off and broken tandoors. There are few reconstruction efforts, and the memory of what once was seems to have vanished with the traders who used to work there.
The story of the bazaar is one of many stories untold from June’s conflict. The two thousand residential properties destroyed remain poignant reminders of suffering and of the ethnic dimension of conflict, yet the thousands of destroyed livelihoods represented in Osh Bazaar are less tangible.
I approached one of the remaining traders a few stalls along from Firoza — a woman selling toiletries arranged neatly in small lines in a cardboard display case. ‘I’ve worked in the bazaar for 10 years but couldn’t work for three months after the unrest. This is my fifth week back. Many horrible things happened here; many places are burnt.’
The emotion in her voice is clear, ‘All of my stock was destroyed. It was in a warehouse here that was looted and then burnt. We couldn’t come here in time to collect it. Not one thing was left.’ She lowers her voice and scans the area for Kyrgyz people before continuing, ‘I have applied for compensation, but they keep saying “later”. They will compensate for “their” people but not for us Uzbeks.’
This is a complaint heard regularly in the bazaar. Umida says, ‘I lost 19,000 som [just over $400] during the violence as all the shoes I owned were stolen or burnt. I filed a complaint with the police for compensation but have heard nothing.’ She still perseveres by trading new stock obtained from nearby Kara-Soo bazaar. The double tragedy is that Umida lives in Cheryomushkee, a neighbourhood that suffered severely during the violence with whole streets being destroyed and hundreds killed.
The destruction of Osh Bazaar has contributed to the changing dynamic of the city. As the main hub for commerce and a point of contact between those from all ethnicities who worked side by side in many cases, the trading areas that remain within the bazaar are now divided between Kyrgyz and Uzbek. Vibrancy and cooperation have been replaced by fear and mistrust.
In place of the languishing Osh Bazaar, several new bazaars have sprung up, in clearly ethnically demarcated neighbourhoods, including one in the Kyrgyz area of Zapudnee that threatens to replace Osh Bazaar entirely. Locals started trading outside their houses straight after the conflict, afraid to leave their neighbourhoods, a pattern that has continued. The destruction of the bazaar has caused further ghettoisation and has contributed to the dramatic change in the atmosphere and composition of the city.
As I walk around a part of the bazaar now completely empty, a man walks out from the shell of a former billiard hall and questions me. ‘They all knew,’ he said. ‘Everyone knew it was happening, but they didn’t do anything. They just watched.'
For further photos see the full article here