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-- May 6, 2002 --
Hello everyone,
After four years in prison, Shodiv Mardiev doesn't look like
a hero. He shuffles slowly to the microphone. Perhaps he's not
in his late 60s as he appears. Perhaps his limp and gray hair
and wrinkles are merely the toll he paid for surviving in what
he calls a "cage." Perhaps they're the products of distress over
his family's fate on the outside and depression over the bitterness
he feels over being betrayed by the country he loves.
"All my life I worked for my country," he tells us.
Until May 3, World Press Freedom Day, Shodiv Mardiev was for
me just a name without a face or voice, one of too many names
on the troubling roster of Uzbek journalists who have been jailed,
harassed or pushed into exile for pursuing their profession. All
I knew was that almost exactly four months earlier, he had been
freed under a presidential amnesty for some "political prisoners."
In 1998, Shodiv Mardiev was sentenced to 11 years in prison for
criminal defamation based on a satirical story about corrupt local
officials he aired on the Samarkand radio station where he worked.
Political? Anytime somebody dares poke fun at people in power,
is their speech political? Is it a crime?
Now on this World Press Freedom Day he was in Tashkent, along
with the ambassadors of the United States and Germany at Internews-Uzbekistan,
a US-funded media assistance organization that trains journalists
at 25 nongovernmental broadcast stations in the country.
The ambassadors brought strongly worded and welcome -- but predictable
-- statements supporting press freedom and decrying censorship
and self-censorship.
Shodiv Mardiev brought his soul.
"I'm so sorry my country abandoned their son and a reporter,"
he says in Uzbek. Interestingly, he distinguishes between the
autocratic president, Islam Karimov, who he insists is doing his
best to build Uzbekistan, and other officials who thwart Karimov's
policies. (As if this president doesn't know the flight path of
every sparrow.)
"Journalists are doing their best to go in line with the president's
programs," he says. "I'm so surprised that some authorities try
to twist the president's policies and put slander on journalists.
I was the victim of such a slander."
Although Shodiv Mardiev is no longer in custody, he still seeks
justice. He has unsuccessfully asked national and international
officials to review his case and says, "If I did something really
wrong, I agree to have more years in prison."
At the end, he reads a poem written in prison, "What Can I Do?"
My favorite part: "My youth was lived in a hurricane. My pencil
was my everlasting friend."
No, Shodiv Mardiev doesn't look like a hero.
#
Other Thoughts for World Press Freedom Day
"No journalist within Uzbekistan's borders should fear repercussions
for writing critical material. They should not fear loss of employment,
long prison sentences or threats to themselves or their close
ones. Journalists in Uzbekistan should not experience pre-publication
censorship from the State Committee for Post and Information or
anticipate it and thus censor themselves from the truth, from
writing critical material supporting opposing opinions." Josh
Machleder, Country Director, Internews.
"We also remember the journalists who have been silenced." U.S.
Ambassador John Herbst.
"We should pay key attention to protecting rights and freedom
of people, guaranteeing them not in words but in real life. Guaranteeing
people's freedom or speech and freedom of the press, which are
closely connected with these problems, is also one of these topical
tasks. No one would deny this." President Islam Karimov, 4 April
2002.
#
Capital tales
In America, a trip to Washington, D.C., is a high school mainstay.
Photos on the steps of the Capitol. Waiting in lines at the Washington
Monument and White House. Zigzagging from Smithsonian museum to
Smithsonian museum, running up the steps at the Lincoln Memorial
and jockeying among the crowds at Arlington, the Holocaust Museum
and the dramatic memorials to Jefferson and FDR.
Not so in Uzbekistan, where many of my students from outside
Tashkent - from "the regions" - had never been to their nation's
capital city until they arrived for their university entrance
exams.
The most ostentatious government building here is Oliy Majlis,
their parliament. While I was on a recent afternoon walk from
my flat, I headed there to see what I could see. It's a boxy building
ringed by white pillars. The exterior walls appear to be of smoky
glass so the pillars reflected in shades of burnt sand. As I approached,
sunlight glistened on its blue dome and the national flag fluttered
in the breeze.
The people of Uzbekistan don't visit Oliy Majlis to sightsee,
tour the building, pose for pictures, admire the architecture
or listen to political debate. There is no way to see applied
civics. To the contrary, the building is off-limits to the public,
and its sessions and committee meetings are generally even closed
to the press. Of course, that's more efficient and less messy
than democracy. It also makes life easier for the press, which
can simply publish press releases and official statements.
As for debates, there aren't any serious ones. Uzbekistan has
four legally recognized political parties, all of which support
President Islam Karimov, who was last reelected with more than
90 percent of the vote in an election that the U.S. State Department
called neither fair nor free. Even one of his rival candidates
admitted voting for him. (Opposition parties are banned and their
leaders are in exile.)
A vice-rector of my university is also an elected deputy to Oliy
Majlis, so I'm trying to engineer a tour for some of my students
and myself, even if we're not allowed to see the people's business
being conducted, or orchestrated, or rubber-stamped..
A black metal fence surrounds the building, which sits in the
middle of a scruffy, unmown lawn. On this quiet Sunday, the parking
lot was empty and police stood bored near their guard posts. To
me it appears a building without place, without setting, without
context, without soul. My sense is that the building is a metaphor
for what goes on - or doesn't go on - inside its walls. Glitter
and fluff.
Behind Oliy Majlis is Alisher Navoi National Park, named in honor
of the 15th-century writer who is considered Uzbekistan's greatest
literary figure from an age long before Uzbekistan existed.
Despite its name, it's more like New York City's Central Park
or the Boston Commons and Public Gardens than an American national
park. No wilderness, no camping, no spectacular scenery. Instead,
it's a place to picnic, rent a rowboat or paddleboat, swim (maybe
the water is cleaner in the summer than now) and relax. A group
of soldiers wearing camouflage uniforms loafed and ate ice cream.
"Ah, the things you do" emanated from the sound system at the
Bounty Café, perched on an artificial island in the park's artificial
pond.
Interestingly, Navoi's statue doesn't face the nearby Oliy Majlis.
If it did, perhaps some of his genius and creativity would rub
off on the politicians inside.
For Whom the Competition Tolls
Q: Those of us from Michigan know about Ernest Hemingway's connection
with our state and how his time in Petoskey and the Upper Peninsula
influenced his writings. But what is his connection with Uzbekistan?
A: The annual countrywide Olympiad - like the Olympics of the
Mind - for university students here. As part of the competition,
about 50 rivals in the English-language division watched a quasi-documentary,
"Michael Palin's Hemingway Adventure" in which Palin (the British
ex-movie star of "Monty Python" fame) follows the author's trail
through Montana and Idaho (experimenting at a dude ranch, chatting
with hunters at a bar, watching a big-game taxidermist at work,
looking at the hot springs of Yellowstone, spending a nightmarish
night in the house where Hemingway committed suicide with a shotgun,
and finally to his gravesite.
After the video, they had 20 minutes to write an essay. As one
of the three judges - the others were an Italian-born American
and a Scotland-born Uzbekistan resident who taught in Tasmania
for 20 years - I found the results ranged from shabby to impressive.
The dude ranch - with its horseback riding, a docile round-up
and a lasso lesson - resonated with many students. I think that's
because of the cowboy/Wild Wild West image many foreigners have
about the United States.
Eric
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