Azerbaijani campaigners have called on their government to refrain from preventing public events amid claims the country’s authorities recently blocked the screening of a documentary on freedom of artistic expression.
“Art claims democracy” was set to run at the Park Inn Hotel, Baku, on January 24 as part of the Art for Democracy campaign; a suspicious power cut halted all activity.
The power outage was limited only to the second floor of the building, the floor on which the documentary film was to be aired. Organisers confronted hotel staff at the time who informed them of a technical problem. According to Art for Democracy some hotel employees later unofficially admitted the power shortage was a result of pressures on the hotel management.
A public statement was published by Art for Democracy in-light of the incident: “Prevention of the screening of a film, which features critical opinions about several top ranking officials including Azerbaijan’s President Ilham Aliyev, could have been organised by no one except law-enforcement agencies under the instructions of high-ranking officials. By taking this step, the government attempted to make the hotel, a private enterprise, and civil society representatives to confront each other.”
The campaign stated the Azerbaijani government needs to be weary of preventing such events and to respect human rights, emphasising how such restrictions only reflect badly the international image of the country.
The contrast is stark. On one hand, you’ve got Azadliq — Azerbaijan’s leading independent newspaper — balancing on the brink of bankruptcy. Known for its critical coverage of the country’s repressive regime, led by President Ilham Aliyev (in a role he essentially inherited from his father Heydar), the paper has been under continuous economic attacks by the government. Defamation cases and payments being held back, among others things, have left the paper in serious danger of folding.
On the other hand, there’s Baku — the art and culture magazine with an Azerbaijani twist, brainchild of Aliyev’s daughter Leyla and co-published by Conde Nast — which recently celebrated its second birthday. A magazine so expensively produced it has its own special font probably doesn’t need to concern itself too much with sales figures and turnover.
The birthday bash was held at “vibrant Baku night spot Pacifico”, where “the champagne flowed and the band played into the night” and guests “toasted the title’s success”. I know this because I recently got my hands on issue 10 of the magazine, which hit the newsstands last week. The party was heavily featured in the society section, which also included appearances by Leyla herself, her sister Arzu and mother and First Lady Mehriban.
Somewhat ironically, I found a stack at an Index event exhibiting the work of Azerbaijani photographers capturing some of the country’s many protests. They were probably kindly donated by the representatives from the Azerbaijani embassy, who popped along to the event.
At first glance, Baku magazine seems like your typical glossy, upmarket mag, promoting the sort of grossly decadent lifestyle most of us would never come within a gold cobbled country mile of. However, it doesn’t take many page turns to sense that something is a bit off.
One of the first things that hits you is the near-obsession between creating links between Azerbaijan and the most glamorous, posh and high-culture aspects of western countries. “Walking along the Boulevard, the wide, tree-lined esplanade that sweeps the length of Baku’s Caspian seafront, is probably quite similar to walking along the Promenade des Anglais in Nice, during the cooler months,” coos Leyla Aliyeva, who also holds the role of Editor-in-Chief, in her Editor’s letter. There is also the feature on the country’s new ski resort, Shahdag. “Sure, it’s not Les Trois Vallees”, the article says. But you can still tuck into Tskian, “the Azerbaijani equivalent of a French alpine tartiflette”. While it is far from the only country to indulge in a bit of self-promotion, the idea of selling Azerbaijan as a modern, glamorous it-spot, seems to permeate the whole publication to a slightly comical extent. But considering they have in the past hired western PR companies to help polish the country’s international image, I guess this is to be expected.
It is further reflected in the editorial staff, filled with Darrens, Marias, Carolines and Simons. For a magazine about Azerbaijan, it doesn’t seem to have many actual Azerbaijanis working for it. Granted, supply might be a bit sparse, as there are a number of journalists among the country’s (at least) 142 political prisoners. Perhaps potential employees are afraid of being blackmailed, like investigative journalist Khadija Ismayilova? Or brutally attacked, like reporter Idrak Abbasov? Or maybe it’s because most of Azerbaijan’s media is otherwise engaged in state-controlled media?
Anyway, it is not surprising that a magazine called Baku, whose USP is Azerbaijan, focuses on all things, well, Azerbaijan. Some tenuous links are drawn, like the article suggesting that jewellery designer to the stars Loree Rodkin’s new collection will be inspired by Azerbaijan, essentially based on nice things she said at an exhibition in Baku. The interview with musical prodigy Nazrin Rashidova, who was born in the country, is only really jarring if you know that musicians, like Jamal Ali, who have dared criticise President Aliyev have allegedly been tortured by the police.
However, there are sections that seem to leave all pretence at the door, and go full on into that strange subtle-yet-obvious mode of PR-managed propaganda. The eight-page ode to Baku’s controversial beautification and modernisation project, under the guise of an interview with designer behind much of it, is issue 10’s most striking example. In fawning terms, it discusses the type of urban renewal that saw houses demolished and families evicted in the lead-up to the Eurovision Song Contest, hosted in the capital in 2012. We also get previews of yet-to-be unveiled treats. The Port Baku development, opening this spring, “is set to become the city’s premier luxury address” with “flagship stores from the world’s leading fashion brands” and exclusive apartments with “access to a 3000sq m leisure club and spa”. There are also plans to transform “a former power station complex into three destination restaurants and a nightclub.” And it goes on and on. A separate article announces the opening of the Fairmont hotel in one of the city’s Flame Towers. The 36-floor hotel will boast “Baku’s first French Bistro”.
It’s a dedicated effort to shift international attention away from corruption, poverty and the continuing attacks on human rights. But while this attempt to paint Azerbaijan as a harmonious and modern hot-spot might work for some, juxtaposed against the actual goings-on in the country, Baku magazine also manages to highlight the vast gulf between the life the regime and its elite circles lead, and the struggle of those fighting for democracy. In some ways, it is a very tangible symbol of the two Azerbaijans.
To buy a copy of the autumn issue of Index on Censorship, featuring work by some of Azerbaijan’s most brave photojournalists, click here.
Tomorrow is International Day To End Impunity. “When someone acts with impunity, it means that their actions have no consequences” explains IFEX, the global freedom of expression network behind the campaign. Since 1992, 600 journalists have been killed with impunity — that is 600 lives taken with all or some of those culpable not being being held responsible. Countless others — writers, activists, musicians — have joined their ranks, simply for exercising their right to freedom of expression.
This year has only added to the grim statistics. By the middle of January, six journalists had already been murdered. We are now getting close to the end of 2013, and 73 more journalists and two media workers have suffered the same fate — 48 in cases directly connected to their work, 25 with motives still unconfirmed. Out of these, 15 were killed without anyone — perpetrators or masterminds — convicted.
Russia is notorious for its culture of impunity. In July this year, Akhmednabi Akhmednabiev, a Russian journalist reporting on human rights violations in the Caucasus, was shot dead. In 2009 he had been placed on an “execution list” on leaflets distributed anonymously, and had in the past also received death threats. In January he survived an assassination attempt which local authorities reportedly refused to investigate. His case is still classed as murder with impunity.
Pakistan is also an increasingly dangerous place to work as a journalist. Twenty seven of the 28 journalists killed in the past 11 years in connection with their work have been killed with impunity. In the last year alone, seven journalists have been murdered. Express Tribune journalist Rana Tanveer told Index he has received death threats and been followed for reporting on minority issues. In October, Karak Times journalists Ayub Khattak was gunned down after filing a report on the drugs trade.
In July, Honduran TV commentator Aníbal Barrow was kidnapped together with his family and a driver. The others were released, but after two weeks, Barrow’s body was found floating in a lagoon. He was the second journalists with links to the country’s president Porfirio Lobo Sosa — they were close friends — to have been killed over the past two years. Four members of the criminal group “Gordo” were detained in connection with the case, but at one point, there were at least three other suspects on the run.
In September, Colombian lawyer and radio host Édison Alberto Molina was shot four times while riding on his motorcycle with his wife. His show “Consultorio Jurídico” (The Law Office), aired on community radio station Puerto Berrío Stereo, and often took on the topic of corruption. The Inter American Press Association in October called on authorities to open “a prompt investigation into the murders” of him and news vendor and occasional stringer José Darío Arenas, who was also killed in September.
Meanwhile in Mexico, a country for many synonymous with impunity for crimes against the media, three journalists were murdered in 2013. The state public prosecutor’s offices has yet to announce any progress in the cases of Daniel Martínez Bazaldúa, Mario Ricardo Chávez Jorge and Alberto López Bello, or disclose whether they are linked to their work. Notorious criminal syndicate Zetas took responsibility for the murder of Martínez Bazaldúa and warned the police about investigating the case. He was a society photographer and student, only 22 at the time of his death. Chavez Jorge, founder of an online newspaper, disappeared in May and his body was found in June, but in August the state attorney’s office said they did not have a record of his death. López Bello was a crime reporter who had published stories on the drugs trade.
This year, 20 journalists — from Naji Asaad in January to Nour al-Din Al-Hafiri in September — have also lost their lives covering the ongoing tragedy of the Syrian civil war. Their loved ones, like those of all the civilians killed, will have to wait for justice.
It is also worth noting that while an unresolved or uninvestigated murder is the most serious and devastating manifestation of impunity, it is not the only one. Across the world, journalists are being attacked and intimidated without consequences. In August there was a two-hour long raid on the home of Sri Lankan editor and columnist Mandana Ismail Abeywickrema, who recently started a journalists’ trade union. Despite her receiving threats related to her work prior to the attack, it was labelled a robbery by the police. Bahraini citizen journalist Mohamed Hassan experienced similar incident, also in August, when he was arrested and his equipment seized during a night-time raid. His lawyer Abdul Aziz Mosa was also detained and his computer confiscated, after tweeting about his client being beaten. In October, a group of Azerbaijani journalists were attacked by a pro-government mob while covering an opposition rally in the town of Sabirabad. One of the journalists, Ramin Deko, told Index of regular threats and intimidation.
International Day To End Impunity is a time to reflect on these staggering figures and the tragic stories behind them. More importantly, however, it represents an opportunity to stand up and demand action. Demand that Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, Mexico’s President Enrique Peña Nieto, Pakistan’s President Mamnoon Hussain and the rest of the world’s leaders provide justice for those murdered. Demand an end to the culture of impunity in which journalists, writers, activists, lawyers, musicians and others can be intimidated, attacked and killed simply for daring to speak truth to power. Visit the campaign website to see how you can take action.
Bryan faces a charge of ‘hooliganism’ after he was arrested while filming a Greenpeace protest on an Arctic Ocean oil rig.
Hooliganism is defined in article 213 of the Russian criminal code as “a gross violation of the public order which expresses patent contempt for society, attended by violence against private persons or by the threat of its use, and likewise by the destruction or damage of other people’s property”
Bryon could end up with a two-year sentence should he be convicted. That’s what Nadezhda Tolokonnikova, Maria Alekhina and Ekaterina Samutsevic of Pussy Riot received after they were convicted of “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred” in October 2012. Samutsevic has been released on bail, but Alekhina and Tolokonnikova remain in prison. There were fears for the wellbeing of Tolokonnikova recently after authorities could not confirm her whereabouts in the course of a prison transfer.
In the past week, artist Pyotry Pavlensky was charged with hooliganism for nailing his scrotum to Red Square, in what he said was a protest against political apathy.
Azerbaijan meanwhile, defines it as “deliberate actions roughly breaking a social order, expressing obvious disrespect for a society, accompanying with application of violence on citizens or threat of its application, as well as destruction or damage of another’s property…”
In May of this year, Azerbaijani activist Ilkin Rustamzadeh was sentenced to two months pre-trial detention for a hooliganism charge after he allegedly took part in a “Harlem Shake” video. Rustamzadeh, who had been active in calling for investigations into the deaths of young soldiers in Azerbaijan’s army, denied ever having taken part in the videos.
Before that, in 2009, Azerbaijan had jailed two young activists for hooliganism after they posted a video on YouTube satirising the government’s expenditure on importing donkeys from Germany.
It was suggested that the donkey import was a cover for money laundering. Shortly after the video was posted, the activists, Emin Milli and Adnan Hadjizadeh, were attacked in a Baku cafe. They were blamed for the fight and sentenced two and a half years and two years respectively.
In Belarus, Alexander Lukashenko’s regime frequently uses hooliganism charges to harass journalists and activists. Lukashenko is so paranoid about dissent that he at one point banned clapping in public, so its unsurprising that moderators of online anti-government groups get arrested. In August 2012, Pavel Yeutsikheieu and Andrei Tkachou, administrators of the “We are fed up with Lukashenko” group on Russian social network VKontakte, were both given short prison sentences for “minor hooliganism”.
In the old Soviet Union, inconvenient people were often declared mad and locked up by the authorities. Now, they’re classified as hooligans.
