In Uzbekistan, anger at government rises
The New York Times
April 8After 10 minutes, the police officers drove off, having decided that it was not forbidden after all to photograph a propaganda poster that said, "The government expresses the will of the people."
But that did not satisfy a woman at a bus stop nearby.
"Why are you taking ridiculous pictures like that?" she asked. "Why aren't you taking pictures of all the things that are wrong?"
The terrorist attacks of the past week told the real story, she said.
"These were poor people, desperate people, driven to act," she said.
Both the government and foreign analysts say the suicide bombings and shootings, which killed 42 people here in this strategic Central Asian nation, were the work of Islamic militants, probably with ties to international terror groups.
Foreign Minister Sadyk Safayev called them part of "the global activities of terrorism" that seeks to create chaos and instability.
But in interviews in Tashkent, the capital, and in the surrounding countryside over the past few days, questions about the attacks sparked furious outbursts about ruinous economic conditions and government repression.
"Everyone hates him," said a saleswoman, speaking of President Islam Karimov, who has led Uzbekistan, an important U.S. ally on the border of Afghanistan, since it became independent from the Soviet Union in 1991. "Everyone is afraid of him."
The vehemence and ubiquity of the complaints was striking.
The United States has been urging the government to revamp its closed economy and relax its repressive grip as a means of maintaining stability.
Hundreds of American troops have been stationed at a base at Khanabad since it became a staging point for the war in Afghanistan in late 2001.
Karimov, 66, secured a constitutional amendment two years ago extending his term until 2007.
There are murmurings that he could leave office before then, but as in most other post-Soviet states, no provision has been made for a peaceful transfer of power.
Asked about the widespread expressions of discontent, Safayev declined to address the substance of the complaints. "Of course there's a range of opinions," he said at a meeting with foreign reporters. "If the people you interviewed think in this way, they have a right to think in this way. What can I say?"
Often the complaints began even before any questions had been asked.
"Go talk to the people at the tile factory - they haven't been paid in years," said a hotel employee before walking quickly away.
From hairdresser to nurse to schoolteacher to farmer to ice cream seller, the grievances repeated themselves: rising prices, unpaid wages, inadequate pensions and salaries, unemployment, corruption and a climate of fear.
"Things are terrible here, terrible," said a welder in a small town outside Tashkent. "And all the time Karimov is telling us that everything is fine, fine, fine, fine. Sure, it's fine for him. But people here are starving. Children go from house to house begging for bread."
Many people who spoke like this were willing to give their names. Others declined, like the factory worker who said, "They'll come at night and take me away, and I won't even know the reason."
Martha Brill Olcott, an expert on Central Asia at the Carnegie Endowment, said these forthright complaints could be signs of what she called a "decaying regime, a dictatorship that has lost a lot of its punch."
"People are not as scared of the regime as they were," she said in a telephone interview from Washington. "People argue with the police now. That's been a big change over the past year. When they cordon off the streets so some high-ranking car can pass, people get out of their cars and begin yelling at the policemen."
Unlike some recent terror attacks elsewhere, the bombings in Uzbekistan did not seem indiscriminate in their choice of targets. They were aimed mostly at police officers - unpopular symbols of government control who have become increasingly harsh since a terrorist attack in Tashkent in 1999 killed at least 16 people.
If the bombings last week were part of an international terror network, they were also neatly devised to tap into national resentments over government abuses.
There has been a deluge of criticism recently from human rights groups about widespread arrests, torture and repression. The press is muzzled, genuine political opposition is barred and independent civil society groups are severely restricted.
Uzbekistan has also mostly failed to make the economic reforms called for by the United States and international lenders, and has strangled trade by closing its borders for what the government says are security reasons.
With 80 percent of the population living in poverty and with the economy steadily contracting, signs of social discontent have emerged. Last year, factory workers staged strikes over unpaid wages and pensioners demonstrated in the streets demanding their payments.
But without a free press or legal political opposition, many people have turned to underground Islamic groups, some of which preach violence.
"By destroying any normal lay political parties in the country, the only opposition groups which have structures and know how to behave underground are these fundamentalist parties," said Alain Deletroz, a vice president of the International Crisis Group, an international monitoring agency.
Abdulkarim Abdullayev, the imam of a mosque in the old city in central Tashkent, acknowledged that economic problems had driven some young people to radicalism.
"They say on television that it's Muslim extremists," he said. "But you've got to clarify that there are a lot of economic problems here, not enough work."
He suggested that a more democratic system could provide an outlet. "Even though there are economic problems, they have to be dealt with the way they are in developed democracies in Europe," he said. "In Europe people go into the streets with slogans and demand things."
That kind of thing would be unthinkable here, said a driver who gave his first name as Sasha.
"People speak quietly," he said. "Even on a bus you can't talk. Who could be listening? You are afraid to say what you think."
He punched the buttons on his car radio. "One, two, three, four, five," he said. "Look, nothing but music. Everything here is happy and good."
Or it could be that there was more on the radio than he realized. The last station he reached was playing a reggae song - by chance, perhaps - with an interesting refrain.
"So you better get up, stand up, stand up for your rights," went the song. "Stand up for your rights. Don't give up the fight."