Three months ago, there was a massacre in Andijan, in eastern Uzbekistan - a country which, even before the massacre, had become a byword for repression. On 13 May, the authorities slaughtered hundreds of protesters. There were no television cameras, and the Uzbek regime denied the massacre had taken place.
Three months ago, there was a massacre in Andijan, in eastern Uzbekistan - a country which, even before the massacre, had become a byword for repression. On 13 May, the authorities slaughtered hundreds of protesters. There were no television cameras, and the Uzbek regime denied the massacre had taken place. The European Union called for an international inquiry, as did Kofi Annan and others. If Uzbekistan failed to co-operate by the end of the June, ministers said, strong measures would follow. It soon became clear that this was pure fiction. When foreign ministers met again in mid-July, under UK chairmanship, the tone was already more cautious. No deadlines or sanctions were agreed. Instead, ministers concluded that an EU partnership and co-operation agreement with Uzbekistan might (not would, but might) be reviewed. And that was it. Early talk of a possible arms embargo or a visa ban for senior Uzbek officials was abandoned.
In the weeks since that meeting, Uzbekistan - understandably confident that it can literally get away with murder - has shown little inclination to co-operate. On the contrary. Information from Andijan suggests that people have been taken into custody and threatened and tortured until they come up with what the authorities want to hear. These testimonies gained under torture will no doubt confirm the government's fictional version of events -- that this was a measured response to an armed uprising.
The European Union seems to have decided, meanwhile, that Islam Karimov, the former Soviet apparatchik who rules Uzbekistan with an iron fist, should not be pressed hard. On 1 September, foreign ministers gather in Newport, south Wales, for two days of discussions on key issues of concern - Turkey, the European constitution, and so on. Uzbekistan is not even on the current agenda. An endlessly delayed visit by a special representative on Uzbekistan may or may not go ahead. Until then, it is considered imprudent and impolite to discuss the mass murder that has already taken place.
Even Washington - which for many years cravenly failed to put pressure on Uzbekistan, because it provided a key US base - has realised that President Karimov might be worthy of criticism, not least after Karimov unceremoniously told the Americans to pack their bags. (Until now, Karimov had always been described as an "ally in the war on terror", a synonym for "Torture as much as you like - whatever it takes.") The UK, which holds the presidency of the European Union, could put Andijan on to the agenda for this week's meeting. It has repeatedly failed to do so.
Despite what the politicians seem eager to pretend, there is already no shortage of facts. Galima Bukharbaeva of the respected Institute for War and Peace Reporting was a witness to the killing spree. The Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe and the office of the UN human rights commissioner, Louise Arbour, produced separate, hardhitting reports. A Human Rights Watch team spent weeks in the refugee camps in neighbouring Kyrgyzstan and inside the blockaded Andijan itself, assembling eyewitness accounts for a detailed, 60-page report
The massacre was ruthlessly executed. Armoured personnel carriers blocked the escape route for demonstrators. As one survivor told Human Rights Watch: "They shot at people when they tried to move. I raised my head, and as soon as I did, they shot [at me]. Nobody could help anyone, because if you tried to move they would shoot at you." Witnesses described how soldiers returned to carry out summary executions of the wounded, the following day.
None of which, it seems, is reason to put much pressure on Uzbekistan - because, the argument goes, what would we then do if Uzbekistan's behaviour got really bad? In effect: "Now, the Uzbeks are only committing mass murder. Let's hold back for a while until we see if things get serious."
Heartened by the lack of international response, the Uzbek authorities are using torture to create an alternative version of what happened on 13 May, which will create a new series of Orwellian truths. Thus, for example, the government has deliberately merged two separate sets of events - a series of serious crimes, including an armed jailbreak and hostage-taking in the middle of the night, on the one hand, and overwhelmingly peaceful protests throughout the following day, on the other - into a single planned action. Despite what the government has tried to suggest, many demonstrators were far from radical; with touching naivete, some even believed that Karimov might be their saviour. As one woman told Human Rights Watch: "We stayed in the square because we thought Karimov was coming, especially when we saw the helicopter flying overhead... We were expecting Karimov, but they started shooting at us instead."
The lack of international response to this officially sanctioned murder is clearly shameful. In addition, it is extraordinarily shortsighted. The belief that slaughter in another country doesn't matter very much (no TV pictures, therefore not many stories in the papers, therefore not much public awareness or domestic pressure) is cynical and foolish in almost equal measure. Central Asia is already an area of great instability. Turning a blind eye to mass slaughter can only make it worse.
