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Subject: IWPR'S CAUCASUS REPORTING SERVICE, NO. 28
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WELCOME TO IWPR'S CAUCASUS REPORTING SERVICE, NO. 28, April 20, 2000

THE DOGS OF WAR Fears are growing that ethnic disputes in
Karachaevo-Cherkessia could drag three North Caucasus republics into a
bitter tribal conflict. Maya Bitokova comments from Nalchik,
Kabardino-Balkaria.

PUTIN'S PEACE GAMES Peace in Chechnya is a virtual impossibility as long as
Moscow continues to make demands that no rebel leader can realistically
deliver. Erik Batuev comments.

FREEDOM OF SPEECH THREATENED IN KARABAKH Armenian journalists are outraged
by the Karabakh government's attempts to silence two local reporters. Mark
Grigorian reports from Yerevan.

BAKU MUZZLES OUTSPOKEN EDITOR Wary of jeopardising their attempts to join
the Council of Europe, the Baku authorities employ "civilised" means to try
to silence one of their staunchest critics. Shahin Rzaev reports from Baku.

THE SHADOWLAND OF ABKHAZIA Lacking natural resources and political
stability, Abkhazia's hard-won independence has doomed its people to a life
of grinding poverty. Leonard Amani comments from London.

********** VISIT IWPR ON-LINE: www.iwpr.net **************

THE DOGS OF WAR

Fears are growing that ethnic disputes in Karachaevo-Cherkessia could drag
three North Caucasus republics into a bitter tribal conflict

By Maya Bitokova in Nalchik, Kabardino-Balkaria

War is so close that I can feel its breath. Sometimes, I imagine that I can
hear children sobbing and women screaming. The air is thick with the
harbingers of violence and sudden death. 

Fear twists inside me, ready to well up to the surface at any moment. The
fear of war.

When the "second conflict" began in Chechnya, a wave of horror swept through
the neighbouring republics - will they shoot and bomb us too? People were
afraid for their families, for the future. But the fighting was contained
inside Chechnya's borders. The horror faded. There was a sense the danger
had passed.

Then our neighbouring republic, Karachaevo-Cherkessia, was racked by
upheaval. There was talk of a war between the Karachai and the Cherkess.
Cherkessk, the capital, is only a two-hour drive from Nalchik; the
Kabardinians and the Cherkess share ethnic roots.

Soon, the Moscow TV stations were calling Kabardino-Balkaria,
Karachaevo-Cherkessia and nearby Adygea "hostile territories". They said
that, in the event of a war, the Kabardinians and the Adygeans would support
the Cherkess while the Balkars would ally with the Karachai. All three
republics would be drawn into the conflict. 

At first, I tried to ignore these hysterical outbursts - wild conclusions
drawn by analysts who have little understanding of our peoples. But then a
Karachai friend phoned me from Cherkessk. We had studied together at
university. We had never discussed our ethnic differences back then.

Now I ask him, "What's going on over there? Why are you at loggerheads with
the Cherkess?" And, to my astonishment, he answers, "They started it all.
And we're just letting them know that they'll never get their hands on any
part of our republic." 

In the schools of Cherkessk, Karachai and Cherkess children refuse to sit
together in class. Hatred and division have become part of their upbringing.
No, I don't want to believe that. Even if it is true. To believe in that is
to believe in the inevitability of war.

Meanwhile, the independent station NTV is describing sleepy Adygea as "a
second Chechnya on the brink of war". It said Adygean nationalists had come
into conflict with the ethnic Russian population and violence was imminent.

But how can I believe these prophecies of doom? I know the roots of these
tensions. The Russians are angry that the authorities offered asylum to 100
refugees from Kosovo. The asylum-seekers were ethnic Adygeans whose
ancestors had left the Caucasus during the wars with Imperial Russia. Local
Russians are concerned that this is the beginning of a massive influx of
Cherkess and Adygeans from abroad.

But at the same time these rumours sow the seeds of fear. And that fear is
fuelled by the fighting in Chechnya, by the daily reports of terror and
repression.

It's a dead-end. And I don't know any way out. I'm afraid for my relatives
and my friends. I love my people and my language. We were taught to love our
homeland, the country in which we were born. But now I'm afraid to live
here. Something is happening to us, to the little peoples who populate the
North Caucasus. We are changing. And perhaps not for the better. 

In some ways, my fear has changed too. It's no longer the fear of death that
haunts me - I have a special relationship with death. I'm afraid that, if a
war starts here, then the rest of the world will be indifferent to our
suffering. I'm afraid of that indifference. Yet, at the same time, I
understand that we ourselves are indifferent to what is happening around us.
"What can we do?" People ask me. "Anything, apart from violence," is my
reply. 

I love to fill my house with flowers but, recently, I stopped watering them
and they almost died. I realised then that I was losing my faith in life and
in the future. I gave up writing articles. I understood that journalists who
are opposed to war are forbidden from expressing their opinions. If you
criticise the Chechen terrorists, you can write what you like. But to
condemn the Russian authorities, to pity Chechen children, the elderly, the
women, to say that an entire people is being systematically annihilated -
all that is taboo. 

If those are your views, it means that you oppose the authorities. And they
do not forgive their enemies easily.

Recently, a journalist friend from Vladikavkaz, in North Ossetia, said to
me: "If you feel that the end is coming, then you should surround yourself
with beauty rather than destroy it. Live for today..." 

Those words have helped me. From then on, I really began to value what I
have: the serene, beautiful landscapes, the coming of spring. And I even
fell in love. True love (does anybody ever think that their love isn't
true?). I don't want to die! I want to live! I want to live decently, in a
civilised country where I know that I have the right to life. Don't I have
that right?

Maya Bitokova is a radio, TV and print journalist in Nalchik, the capital of
Kabardino-Balkaria


PUTIN'S PEACE GAMES

Peace in Chechnya is a virtual impossibility as long as Moscow continues to
make demands that no rebel leader can realistically deliver.

By Erik Batuev

In Chechnya, the doves of peace are strictly for show. Now and again, the
Kremlin may pull them out of its top-hat to appease the international
community but the fact is that their wings are clipped and their olive
branches have seen better days.

Since the military campaign was launched last September, Moscow has stuck
rigidly to its guns, demanding the rebels abandon their resistance, lay down
their arms and hand over the "principle terrorists". 

Unfortunately, these are terms which no single Chechen leader can hope to
deliver.

Fresh hopes for peace were raised on April 6 when rebel president Aslan
Maskhadov told Germany's Deutsche Welle radio station, "We are ready to end
the war without condition and free all Russian prisoners."

Unexpectedly, the announcement won a cautious welcome from Sergei
Yastrzhembsky, the Kremlin's chief spokesman on Chechnya who said, "We
cannot rule out initiating political processes in Chechnya provided the
rebel leadership meets certain conditions."

Then, early last week, Russia's foreign minister, Igor Ivanov, declared in
an interview with CNN, "The military operation is over and the time has come
for a political solution to the Chechen crisis."

Scarcely able to conceal its jubilation, the international community
glimpsed light at the end of the tunnel.

But things are not always what they seem. Yastrzhembsky's comments came just
days before Russia's president elect, Vladimir Putin, paid his first
official visit to London and have been dismissed as an attempt to curry
favour with the West.

Meanwhile, Ivanov's words were undermined by General Gennady Troshev, acting
commander-in-chief of the Russian forces in Chechnya, who said, "It is too
early to say the war has ended," shortly before launching a massive airborne
operation in the south of the embattled republic.

On April 20, Nikolai Koshman, Russia's top official in Chechnya, ruled out
the possibility of peace talks between Putin and the rebel leader,
explaining, "Maskhadov has no control over anything and there is no point in
negotiating with him."
 
In fact, any moves towards striking a deal with Maskhadov would encounter
widespread opposition in Russia. The government is still haunted by memories
of the Khasavyurt agreement of 1996 when the Chechen rebels dictated their
terms to a defeated federal army.

The generals have already told Putin in no uncertain terms that they will
not accept any attempts at bargaining with the rebels and even warn that any
further humiliations could trigger a collapse of the military hierarchy.

At the same time, recent polls show that more than 60 per cent of the
Russian public supports the war which played an important role in securing
Putin the presidency in March.

In real terms, it is virtually impossible for Putin to accept Maskhadov as
his opposite number over the negotiating table. The rebel leader was legally
elected president of Chechnya according to the terms of the Khasavyurt
agreement. However, the raids on Dagestan staged by field commanders Shamil
Basaev and Khattab last August directly contravened the agreement's
non-aggression pact and cast real doubts over Maskhadov's legitimate claim
to the presidency. The armed incursions also proved to the world at large
that Chechnya's elected leader had little control over his people.

In a recent twist, Maskhadov has distanced himself from the two Wahhabi
warlords, describing them as "provocateurs". But Moscow has made it very
clear that any Chechen leader who wants to show good faith must hand over
both Basaev and Khattab. Given the Chechen traditions of blood vengeance,
this is not an option open to the rebel president.

In fact, leaders who represent the interests of the Chechen people are thin
on the ground. Last week, the republic's spiritual leader, Akhmed Hadji
Kadyrov, volunteered his services as a mediator. But, at the same time,
Bislan Gantamirov, the former mayor of Grozny, resigned as head of the
pro-Moscow Chechen militia, complaining of the brutal tactics employed by
the federal army.

Attempts by Ingushetia's president, Ruslan Aushev, and the North Ossetian
leader, Alexander Dzasokhov, to play the role of peace-makers have so far
been inconclusive.

Given the huge diversity of opinion both in Chechnya and Russia, what future
is there for the breakaway republic? 

Abdul-Khakim Sultygov, of the Islamic Rifakh party, is calling for a
referendum in Chechnya to decide two crucial issues - Chechnya's status in
the Russian Federation and the drawing up of a new constitution.

"Why did the war start in Chechnya when we had legally elected presidents?"
he asks. "Because one basic question was never decided - the question of
Chechnya's status. In 1993, many Chechens were against seceding from the
Federation and for that reason in June 1993 Dudaev dissolved the parliament
and banned any such referendum. Maskhadov did the same. We begged him to
hold this referendum but he just introduced the shariat into the republic.
And look how things have turned out."

Erik Batuev writes for Argumenty i Fakty and Moskovsky Komsomolets. He is a
regular contributor to IWPR.


FREEDOM OF SPEECH THREATENED IN KARABAKH

Armenian journalists are outraged by the Karabakh government's attempts to
silence two local reporters.

By Mark Grigorian in Yerevan

A second journalist has been arrested by the Nagorny Karabakh regime as part
of what many believe to be a concerted crackdown on its opponents.

Vardan Taschian, a Lebanese citizen who has been working in Karabakh since
1990, was arrested this week in connection with a bid to assassinate the
enclave's elected president, Arkady Ghukasian. 

The arrest follows the conviction on libel charges of another Stepanakert
journalist, Vahram Aghajanian - well known for his stringing criticism of
Karabakh's de facto regime - just days after the murder attempt on March 22,
which left Ghukasian badly wounded.

Taschian had been working for the Tasnerod Nahang ("10th Province")
newspaper, reportedly financed by Karabakh's former defence minister, Samvel
Babayan, who has been charged with masterminding the assassination plot.

Over 30 people have now been arrested in connection with the crime, which,
many believe, has given the government a pretext to crackdown on its
opponents.

Journalists from a number of Yerevan-based papers have signed an open letter
in support of Taschian, who believe his arrest was a misunderstanding, as,
they insist, there are no grounds for suspecting him of involvement in case.

The move came as the campaign to free Aghajanian, sentenced to a one-year
prison term for slandering Karabakh's prime minister, Anushavan Danelian,
was stepped up.

About 100 journalists in Yerevan held a demonstration outside the Karabakh
representative office in protest at Aghajanian's conviction. They delivered
a petition in support of the reporter, which included protest letters from
international journalists associations and human rights groups. 

A delegation of journalists from the Armenian capital is set to travel to
Stepanakert later this month for an appeal hearing at the Supreme Court.

The campaign to free Aghajanian began last week when four Yerevan daily
newspapers reprinted the controversial article that landed him in jail. His
arrest and trial have provoked an international outcry. Witnesses said the
court rode roughshod over the Karabakh criminal law 

In Stepanakert, meanwhile, President Ghukasian appeared to express unease
about the recent arrests when he called on Karabakh's law-enforcement
agencies to exercise greater restraint and to guard against violating
freedom of speech.

The note of concern came in marked contrast to Danelian's reported
insistence that Aghajanian's sentence was too lenient, as the journalist has
written "more than 10 offensive articles."

Mark Grigorian is IWPR project editor in Yerevan.


BAKU MUZZLES OUTSPOKEN EDITOR

Wary of jeopardising their attempts to join the Council of Europe, the Baku
authorities employ "civilised" means to try to silence one of their
staunchest critics.

By Shahin Rzaev in Baku

The editor of a popular Azerbaijani magazine, well known for its stinging
anti-government criticism, is claiming the authorities have made a concerted
bid to force him out of business.

Elmar Husseinov says his magazine, Monitor Weekly, which has been in
circulation for just two months, has faced sustained pressure from the
authorities, culminating in a fine he is unable to pay.

The magazine took up the anti-regime gauntlet from an earlier Husseinov
venture - Monitor - a monthly political magazine, which hit the news-stands
in August 1996. Printed overseas, this publication managed to avoid the busy
scissors of the censor, still active in Azerbaijan at the time. But in
February 1998 the authorities finally lost patience and confiscated copies
from state and private newsstands across Baku.

Husseinov was charged with defaming the entire Azerbaijani population and a
hefty fine was slapped on the magazine, forcing Monitor to close.

Earlier this year, however, Husseinov decided he could "no longer remain
silent" and launched the new venture, Monitor Weekly.

Monitor Weekly's articles were exceptionally courageous and incisive in
their criticism of the status quo. The publication quickly became a hit with
readers. One distributor, Gaya, estimates circulation tripled in the first
quarter of 2000.

Outraged deputies in the Baku parliament were soon calling for the magazine
to be stripped of its publishing licence. Dzhalal Aliev, brother of
Azerbaijani President Heidar Aliev, even dubbed the magazine "fascist".

Two deputies, Zakhid Garalov and Maxim Musaev, have called for legislation
reinstating "state control over the press". Both complained that the ending
of government censorship had ushered in an era of virtual anarchy.

But Madat Mamedov, a senior official at the Ministry of Print and
Information, dismissed such calls. "Just days ago parliament agreed to adopt
an important document from the Council of Europe. Both Garalov and Musaev
voted for its acceptance," Mamedov said. "Democracy is not chaos. Now that
censorship has been relaxed, the conscience of the journalists themselves
should be the main control over the press. And any thorny questions should
be decided in a court of law."

Crude tactics such as confiscating the magazine from newsstands are no
longer an option for a government keen to join the Council of Europe. More
"civilised" means had to be found to silence Monitor Weekly.

In early April, officials from the ministry of justice appeared at the
magazine's office to insist that the editors observe the court ruling
imposed on Monitor in 1998.

Husseinov tried in vain to prove Monitor Weekly was a different publication,
with its own founders, periodicity and licence. Nevertheless the justice
officials insisted Monitor Weekly print a disclaimer against Husseinov's
offending article - The Azerbaijani Nation in the 21st Century - published
two years earlier in Monitor.

Spokesman for the justice ministry, Ali Mamedov, said the courts in 1998 had
ruled Husseinov should apologise for publishing misleading statements on the
Azerbaijani people and to date he had failed to do so, "We remain
unconvinced by excuses such as, 'Monitor and Monitor Weekly are two
different magazines.' If Elmar Husseinov does not agree with the decision of
the Baku City Court, he has the right to lodge an appeal with a higher legal
body. It is our business to ensure court decisions are complied with."

Husseinov duly printed a letter from the Ministry of Justice, which included
the disclaimer. Unsatisfied with this attempted compromise, the ministry
demanded Husseinov publish the disclaimer again, in a form dictated by the
ministry. 

In the next issue Husseinov printed the disclaimer word for word, but added
his own editorial note:

"I understand perfectly that their [the Ministry of Justice] goal is to
humiliate me as much as possible. The ministry was counting on my refusing
to accede to their demands, thereby giving them an excuse to close down
Monitor Weekly. It goes without saying that, in sending this warning, the
Ministry of Justice is carrying out the wishes of the political elite, which
is unhappy that Monitor Weekly is published at all. I disagree completely
with the text of the published disclaimer. It is a direct infringement of
the Azerbaijani Constitution and forces me to betray my own convictions."

Pressure on Monitor Weekly has not been confined, however, to the actions of
the justice ministry. Officials from the new tax ministry have also been
knocking on the magazine's door. Only months after a routine tax assessment,
officials from the ministry demanded a second assessment from Monitor Weekly
and its publisher, the Centre of Geo-economical Research.

In the course of this second assessment Monitor Weekly was found to have
infringed local tax laws and was accused of operating without a license for
two months. The publication was fined 100 million mantas (around $23,000).
The magazine's entire turnover for this period was only 160 million.

Arzu Nasirov, the ministry's chief tax inspector, said the fine was against
Husseinov and not Monitor Weekly. The sanctions related to the period
September to December 1999 when Husseinov published the newspaper Bakinsky
Bulvar without a licence.

Tax inspectors also sealed off the Baku Printing Press where the magazine is
printed provoking a storm of protest. The inspectors finally acknowledged
the move was illegal and allowed the printers back to work.

Husseinov claims the tax inspection was riddled with irregularities and that
the resultant fine will force the magazine out of business. He hopes to
print the next edition at another printing press but says this will probably
be the last issue of Monitor Weekly.

Shahin Rzaev is IWPR's project editor in Baku.


THE SHADOWLAND OF ABKHAZIA

Lacking natural resources and political stability, Abkhazia's hard-won
independence has doomed its people to a life of grinding poverty.

By Leonard Amani 

Abkhazia's separatist dream is an impossible one. Six years after winning
its de facto independence from Georgia, the tiny Black Sea statelet has
failed to secure any real social stability or sound economic prospects.
Instead, it languishes in a political purgatory, racked by internal
divisions and rampant crime.

This shadowland existence is a natural legacy of Abkhazia's stubborn
defiance. Like most post-Soviet trouble spots, the population was dominated
by a compact ethnic group which had high hopes that, in conditions of
self-determination, the standard of living could be raised.

Before the war, Abkhazia was a prosperous region of Georgia where the local
leadership and economy were dominated by ethnic Abkhazians. The fall of the
Soviet Union and Georgia's economic collapse triggered a dramatic drop in
the standard of living for almost everyone within this group.

The resulting conflict was not so much an outburst of micro-nationalism as a
violent "fragmentation of the state". In other words, this fragmentation had
an economic rather than a political bias.

The natural drive towards improving the standard of living, combined with a
rebirth of national identity, was spearheaded by the indigenous elite and
the criminal elements in Abkhazian society.

While the elite grew fat in the murky waters of the transformation process,
the criminal clans increased their control over the political and economic
life of the new regime. But, when the fragmentation of the state was
complete, the fledgling government was forced to face up to very different
realities. 
 
The new climate in Abkhazia demanded painstaking and meticulous efforts to
rebuild the local economy and to create an environment in which the region
can develop. The regime is only just beginning to come to terms with the
hopelessness of the situation. 

On the one hand, the region can only develop if the regime is both
recognised by the international community and is attractive to foreign
investors. None of the former Soviet enclaves created by a fragmentation of
the state (Abkhazia, Nagorny Karabakh, South Ossetia) has been able to meet
these conditions - largely because their economies are founded on criminal
structures. Furthermore, because of this criminal bedrock and the desire to
expand mafia empires, the lawless enclaves soon became the scourge of
neighbouring regions. 

But the most serious problem of fragmentation is that these regimes, in
their very essence, are incapable of survival. 

Most political observers agree that newly formed statelets can only survive
if they become dependent on a larger state or if they have sufficient
economic potential, particularly in the form of natural mineral resources, a
committed workforce or enterprises orientated towards the export markets. 

An important factor is the readiness of Western countries and corporations
to exploit resources. Without this, the local population is doomed to eke
out a meagre existence and to endure economic conditions significantly worse
than those which existed prior to the fragmentation process. 

As a result of this, the regime becomes increasingly fragile and unstable
and is even forced to resort to coercion in order to preserve what little
equilibrium remains. 

At present there is only a handful of these stubborn enclaves, but they have
become ulcerous problems for the surrounding regions. The issue is not
limited to the fact that micro-nationalism rips through the fabric of state
formations. Micro-nationalism excludes entire ethnic groups from the process
of world development, shifting them into the hinterlands of civilisation.

Relying on reports from representative offices on the ground, Western
businessmen are forced to take these factors into account, throwing even the
most profitable ventures into doubt. 

The Abkhazian issue has already torpedoed any serious Western investment
projects in Georgia. In terms of its workforce and industrial potential,
Georgia is an example of a small state capable of developing extensively and
intensively, albeit with numerous teething problems.

Abkhazia, with its population of 100,000, does not have that potential. 

Leonard Amani is a Georgian political commentator based in London.

********** VISIT IWPR ON-LINE: www.iwpr.net **************

IWPR's Caucasus Reporting Service provides the regional and international
community with unique insiders' perspective on the Caucasus. Using our
network of local journalists, the service publishes objective news and
analysis from across the region upon a weekly basis.

The service forms part of IWPR's Caucasus Project based in Tbilisi and
London which supports local media development while encouraging better local
and international understanding of a conflicted yet emerging region.

IWPR's Caucasus Reporting Service is supported by the UK National Lottery
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The institute will be launching a fourth news service, IWPR Central Asia
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duncan@iwpr.net.

For further details on this project and other information services and media
programmes, visit IWPR's Website: <www.iwpr.net>.

Editor-in-chief: Anthony Borden. Managing Editor: Yigal Chazan; Assistant
Editor: Alan Davis. Commissioning Editors: Giorgi Topouria in Tbilisi,
Shahin Rzayev in Baku, Mark Grigorian in Yerevan, Michael Randall and Saule
Mukhametrakhimova in London. Editorial Assistance: Felix Corley and Heather
Milner. To comment on this service, contact IWPR's Programme Director: Alan
Davis alan@iwpr.net

The Institute for War & Peace Reporting (IWPR) is a London-based independent
non-profit organisation supporting regional media and democratic change.

Lancaster House, 33 Islington High Street, London N1 9LH, United
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The opinions expressed in IWPR's Caucasus Reporting Service are those of the
authors and do not necessarily represent those of the publication or of
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Copyright (c) IWPR 2000

IWPR'S CAUCASUS REPORTING SERVICE, NO. 28

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