WELCOME TO IWPR'S REPORTING CENTRAL ASIA, No. 658, October 3, 2011 EDITORIAL COMMENT
TAJIK JOURNALIST'S TRIAL A WARNING TO OTHERS Prosecuting journalists for reporting on sensitive topics is shooting the messenger. By Lola Olimova IWPR POSTCARD STRIKES TAKE TOLL ON KAZAK OIL TOWN Four months after industrial action began, tensions still run high in Janaozen. By Artur Nigmetov KAZAK DOMESTIC ABUSE LAW SLOW TO TAKE ROOT More needs to be done to ensure government agencies work together to enforce legislation. By Almaz Rysaliev **** NEW ************************************************************************************ LATEST PROJECT REVIEWS: http://iwpr.net/make-an-impact/project-reviews VACANCIES: http://iwpr.net/what-we-do/vacancies **** IWPR RESOURCES ****************************************************************** CENTRAL ASIA PROGRAMME HOME: http://www.iwpr.net/programme/central-asia CENTRAL ASIA RADIO: http://iwpr.net/programme/central-asia/central-asia-radio NEWS BRIEFING CENTRAL ASIA: http://iwpr.net/programme/news-briefing-central-asia CENTRAL ASIA HUMAN RIGHTS: http://iwpr.net/programme/central-asia-human-rights-reporting-project STORY BEHIND THE STORY: http://iwpr.net/report-news/the-story-behind-the-story BECOME A FAN OF IWPR ON FACEBOOK http://facebook.com/InstituteforWarandPeaceReporting FOLLOW US ON TWITTER http://twitter.com/iwpr **** http://iwpr.net/ ********************************************************** DONATE TO IWPR: http://iwpr.net/donate **** http://iwpr.net/ ********************************************************** EDITORIAL COMMENT TAJIK JOURNALIST'S TRIAL A WARNING TO OTHERS Prosecuting journalists for reporting on sensitive topics is shooting the messenger. By Lola Olimova The trial of a BBC reporter accused of links to a banned Islamic group reflects a widely-held official attitude that the media should serve the interests of the state, and the state should define what those are. The case of Urunboy Usmonov raises serious concerns about the vulnerability of journalists who report on issues that the authorities regard as off-limits unless coverage adheres to their unwritten rules of what is permissible, especially with regard to sensitive topics like Islamic extremism. Usmonov, 59, is a correspondent for the BBC Central Asian Service in the northern Soghd region of Tajikistan. Arrested in June, he was originally charged with membership of the Islamic group Hizb ut-Tahrir and with making subversive statements. Investigators were unable to make these charges stick, and when he went to trial in mid-August it was for “failure to report a crime” – in other words, for not passing on confidential contacts with Hizb ut-Tahrir to the police. But he is still being tried jointly with four alleged members of the group, despite the altered charges. Usmonov denies the allegations, and the BBC has said it regards the charges as entirely unfounded. He told the court that his meetings and interviews with Hizb ut-Tahrir members conducted purely in his capacity as a journalist. The case highlights a prevailing attitude among the law-enforcement agencies – some kinds of reporting are acceptable, but others are not, and it is the police who should be the final arbiters on such matters. In particular, the charges against Usmonov sends a clear signal that when the authorities ban a group like Hizb ut-Tahrir, reporting on it is banned as well, and anyone doing so risks being accused of endorsing the organisation. That is a long way from the concept of media serving the public interest, unless it is the police themselves who define what that is. Attempting to muzzle the media does not contribute to curbing extremism and violence. It is not, after all, media coverage of the activities of Islamic groups that spreads their ideology and encourages people to join them. Many would agree with Abdufattoh Vohidov of the Independent Association of Media, who argues that if Usmonov is persecuted just for doing his job, other journalists will be deterred from reporting on sensitive issues and will lapse into self-censorship. The international attention surrounding Usmonov’s trial may have contributed to the more serious initial charges against him being shelved, although prosecutors insist this was based on an assessment of the evidence to hand. The case has certainly placed a dilemma before the Tajik authorities, particularly the Soghd regional branch of the State Committee for National Security. Despite the weight of international condemnation, it is hard for them to back down. They did reduce the charges, but an admission that he is innocent would prompt some hard questions about why the prosecution was brought in the first place. Usmonov’s trial has been adjourned until his lawyer, who is currently abroad, can attend the proceedings. A verdict is expected at the beginning of October. Lola Olimova is IWPR editor in Tajikistan. The views expressed in this article are not necessarily the views of IWPR. IWPR POSTCARD STRIKES TAKE TOLL ON KAZAK OIL TOWN Four months after industrial action began, tensions still run high in Janaozen. By Artur Nigmetov The town of Janaozen makes a surprising impression on the first-time visitor. It isn’t at all what you would expect to see in the heart of Kazakstan’s oil-rich west. The town – with a population of 130,000, the second-biggest in the Mangistau region – is dominated by Soviet-style apartment blocks in grey concrete, surrounded by cheaply-built low-rise houses made of mud brick. Some 150 kilometres inland from the Caspian Sea, Janaozen is located in the vast semi-desert of the Mangyshlak peninsula. When I arrived there in early September, the heat was made almost unbearable by strong winds that covered the whole town in dust. Local people told me they get these winds all year round, blowing in dust in summer and snowstorms in winter. The harsh climate is not the only thing that makes life in Janaozen tough. Despite the jobs created in oil extraction, unemployment is high, and basic utilities like electricity and hot water are erratic. The town hit the headlines over the summer when oil workers went on strike to press for better pay. They are demanding additional pay weighting to take account of where they live, the right to be represented by an independent trade union, and – for those sacked during the strike – full restitution of their jobs. The strike at the Ozenmunaigaz oil firm started in May, at about the same time as workers at another major firm, Karazhanbasmunai, began separate industrial action in Aktau, also in western Kazakstan. At the height of the protests, thousands of workers from a number of oil and gas companies were out on strike, including 2,500 workers from Ozenmunaigaz. (See Kazakstan's Unhappy Oil Workers.) Ozenmunaigaz said the strike was illegal, and responded by dismissing more than 370 workers at Janaozen. (See also Reprisals Merely Anger Protesting Kazak Oil Workers.) The company argues that the wages it pays have gone up in recent years. A protest last year did end in a pay deal, but workers say this has not really been reflected in their wage packets. I headed for Janaozen’s central Yntymak Square, which appropriately enough means “solidarity”, and is still occupied by protesting workers. They spend their days sitting in the open air on rolled-out carpets. Hand-made quilts make sitting more comfortable. Add some plastic water bottles, and you have an approximate picture of what the encampment looks like. Clusters of strikers are dotted across the square, with some finding shade under a few trees. They take turns to occupy the square, leaving only to make brief visits home. They told me they could not leave in case the police cordoned off the square or blocked access routes. Initially, the strikers set up camp on the outskirts of Janaozen, but they moved into the town centre after raids by baton-wielding police. They felt that if they were in full public view, they would be less vulnerable to further attempts to disperse them. Uniformed and plain-clothes police officers maintain a presence around Yntymak Square, although they are keeping their distance. The overriding impression is one of palpable tension. Nearly four months of protest actions have taken their toll. I sensed this as I talked to the protesters whose sunburnt faces had a look of exhaustion. They were edgy and quite reluctant to talk to a journalist like me, as they have not always had a good press. Some media reports suggested they were well enough paid as things were and had nothing to complain about. They also have other reasons to be mistrustful of outsiders, such as an incident when oilmen’s wives were attacked by unknown assailants to stop them staging their own protest. Relations within the camp are strained, as well. Tempers run high, and any disagreement can easily get out of hand and lead to arguments, abuse and a brawl. The strikers are divided on what they want – a hard core opposes any deal short of all demands being met, others still believe it is right to protest but are finding it increasingly hard to continue, while others have had enough and want to stop. One activist, Kayrjan Shagyrbaev, who is a drill operator in his early forties, tried to downplay the gloomy mood and insisted the striker were steadfast in their desire to carry on the fight. He said they had warned their employers and government officials that the strike action would escalate if they were ignored. A female protester, Kunsulu Otarbaeva, told me of the price the strikers were paying, saying, “Their children have nothing to eat, and some families are breaking up as their wives leave them. These work problems are spilling over into the family. These guys are at the end of their tether, but they carry on out of principle and because they want justice.” The oil workers told me they were just the most visible part of a wider group of people in Janaozen who were fed up with declining living standards. I observed that the police, too, looked uneasy as they kept watch on the sit-in, and also on groups of men congregated in the vicinity of the square. I was told these were unemployed locals, mainly “oralmans”, the name used for ethnic Kazaks who were invited to come in the country, but who have found it hard to get an education and hence work. I got a sense that these men were showing solidarity with the oil-sector workers. It did not look as though there were coordinated plan of action, but it was clear that if the authorities moved against the protesters, other residents would side with the oilmen. One protester told me police were deterred from breaking up the camp by the fear of serious trouble. “Behind every one of us there are children, wives, relatives and others who support us and are ready to come to our aid at any moment,” another protester, Sapar Uskenov, told me. “The authorities and employers should think long and hard about that.” Galym Bayjanov, a local representative of Kazakstan’s governing Nur Otan party, said Ozenmunaigaz would not re-employ sacked workers who had breached their contracts. Efforts were being made to find new jobs for them, but they were refusing to accept them. Uskenov’s response was that he and his colleagues already had jobs, from which they had been illegally dismissed, and did not plan to become street sweepers or maintenance workers. As the incessant wind turns chillier, heralding the cold of winter, it is hard to see how the protest in Janaozen can be resolved. Artur Nigmetov is a reporter for Azattyq, the Kazak service of RFE/RL. KAZAK DOMESTIC ABUSE LAW SLOW TO TAKE ROOT More needs to be done to ensure government agencies work together to enforce legislation. By Almaz Rysaliev Implementation of a domestic violence law passed in Kazakstan last year has been patchy, with some state institutions doing more than others to enforce it. There have been improvements in the way the police handle such cases, with more restraining orders issued to protect victims. But women’s rights groups say the government has been slow to fund the crisis centres envisaged in the law, which provide refuge to victims of domestic abuse and offer them psychological help and legal advice. Before the law was enacted in January 2010, Kazakstan lacked effective mechanisms for addressing violence in the home. The legislation contains a clear definition of what constitutes domestic violence, describes how cases should be prosecuted, and provides guidelines for how the state should try to prevent them happening. Roza Bekisheva, chief inspector with the domestic violence unit of Kazakstan’s interior ministry, which controls the police, says a great deal of progress has been made. Restraining orders came into force in May last year, and some 40,000 have been issued since then, in most cases proving effective, Bekisheva said. The orders are for ten days’ duration and offenders can be jailed for ten days or fined the equivalent of 50 US dollars if they contact their partner, even by phone. Police can also place offenders on a register, issue warnings, detain them, and impose other restrictions including on travel. A hotline for domestic violence victims is being piloted in the capital Astana and will be rolled out across the country. In terms of training, Bekisheva said, “We in the interior ministry have put together a manual and sent it out to law-enforcement personnel in every region, so that the police know what course of action they need to take in domestic violence cases.” Bekisheva noted that other sections of the law fell to the ministries of justice and of labour and welfare to implement, and they were still developing their plans to support crisis centres. The arrival of the domestic violence law was hailed by non-government groups which had struggled to keep crisis centres open with donor money. Nadezhda Gladyr, head of the Podruga centre in Almaty, said many of the 21 operating across Kazakstan were experiencing difficulties as their foreign funding dried up. The Podruga centre has helped thousands of victims of domestic violence over its 13-year existence. According to Gladyr, cases typically involve married women aged from 20 to 40. The law now requires local government to fund crisis centres, but according to Gladyr, “not one of the [existing] centres is a state institution. Neither national nor local budgets have set aside funds to establish them.” She argues that there is nothing on paper to say how the law should be translated into actions by the various state agencies concerned, and that until such an action plan is produced, “local authorities and other agencies like law-enforcement, women’s commissions, and NGOs cannot start actively engaging in implementing the law”. Irina Unjakova, a member of the official National Commission for Women’s Affairs and for Family and Demographic Policy, agreed coordination among various government agencies was inadequate, which sometimes led to the system of protections breaking down. Many victims are too fearful to make a statement to the police, and this makes it extremely difficult to bring cases to court. “If police bring a husband who’s been violent to the [police] station and place him in detention, but the victim hasn’t filed a complaint, prosecutors can lodge a petition against their actions,” Unjakova said. Unjakova said the domestic violence law itself needed to be amended in some areas. While it provided a good definition of domestic violence, the system for deciding how to proceed against alleged perpetrators was so convoluted that it was difficult to follow it through. Bekisheva said the interior ministry’s domestic violence specialists were planning to mount a joint campaign with local government education and welfare departments later this year. The awareness campaign, called Families Without Violence, will include public meetings and practical measure such as providing jobs or financial assistance to victims. Encouraging victims to seek out the assistance available to them will take time. Many women are still reluctant to air their problems in public, and therefore avoid applying for restraining orders and the like. IWPR spoke to a 36-year-old mother of two in Almaty who described a pattern of attacks by her husband. “My husband beats me up when he gets drunk,” the woman, who gave her name as Inna, said. “When he’s sober, he is an exemplary husband and father. As soon as he meets up with his friends and starts drinking, everything changes.” Inna described the effects that her husband’s violent behaviour had on their seven-year old daughter and five-year old son. “When he comes homes drunk, which can be at three in the morning, and starts acting violently, they cry. They huddle together in the corner and ask their father not to beat me. I feel sorry for them,” she said. Despite this, Inna said she did not feel she needed psychological or legal assistance, and would not turn to a crisis centre or to the police. She did not want her troubles to be made public, and did not trust outsiders to address the basic problem – her husband’s drinking. “My husband doesn’t drink so often that things become unbearable and I need to take radical steps,” she said. Not did she want her husband to be placed in detention. “That would only make things worse for my children and me,” she said. “I really haven’t anywhere to go. Where would I go? All my relatives have their own families, so how could I move in with them. “In the end, the children need their father. I’ve got used to it.” Almaz Rysaliev is IWPR editor in Kazakstan. **** http://iwpr.net/ ********************************************************** REPORTING CENTRAL ASIA provides the international community with a unique insiders' perspective on the region. Using our network of local journalists, the service publishes news and analysis from across Central Asia on a weekly basis. The service forms part of IWPR's Central Asia Project based in Almaty, Bishkek, Tashkent and London, which supports media development and encourages better local and international understanding of the region. IWPR's Reporting Central Asia is supported by the UK Community Fund. The service is published online in English and Russian. The opinions expressed in Reporting Central Asia are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of the publication or of IWPR. REPORTING CENTRAL ASIA: Editor-in-Chief: Anthony Borden; Managing Editor: Yigal Chazan; Senior Editor and Acting Central Asia Director: John MacLeod; Central Asia Editor: Saule Mukhametrakhimova. IWPR PROJECT DEVELOPMENT AND SUPPORT: Executive Director: Anthony Borden; Head of Programmes: Sam Compton. **** http://iwpr.net/ ********************************************************** IWPR – Giving Voice, Driving Change IWPR - Europe, 48 Gray’s Inn Road, London WC1X 8LT, UK Tel: +44 20 7831 1030 IWPR – United States, 1325 G Street, NW, Suite 500, Washington, DC 20005, United States Tel: +1 202 449 7717 1515 Broadway, 11th Floor, New York, New York 10036, United States Tel: +1 212 520 3950 Stichting IWPR Nederland, Eisenhowerlaan 77 K, 2517 KK Den Haag, The Netherlands Tel: +31 70 338 9016 For further details on this project and other information services and media programmes, go to: http://iwpr.net/ ISSN: 1477-7924 Copyright © 2009 The Institute for War & Peace Reporting **** http://iwpr.net/ ********************************************************** ________________________________________ This electronic mail message and any attached files are intended solely for the named recipients and may contain confidential and proprietary business information of the Institute for War & Peace Reporting (IWPR) and its affiliates. If you are not the named addressee, you should not disseminate, distribute or copy this e-mail. Institute for War & Peace Reporting. 48 Gray's Inn Road, London WC1X 8LT, UK. Registered with charitable status in the United Kingdom (charity reg. no: 1027201, company reg. no: 2744185); the United States under IRS Section 501(c)(3); and The Netherlands as a charitable foundation.
