Base motives

Spectator, The, May 21, 2005 by Andersen, Michael

Michael Andersen on the double standards behind US support for the brutal Uzbek President, Islam Karimov

The Kyrgyz-Uzbek border

To people in Central Asia, home to some of the most oppressive regimes in the world, President Bush's inaugural speech in January was important. 'When you stand for liberty, we will stand with you,' said Bush, and his words sounded very promising. Thirteen years after the collapse of the Soviet dictatorship, no country in Central Asia has yet held elections which could be described as even remotely free or fair. While the presidents, their families and entourages amass enormous fortunes, 80 per cent of the population struggles to survive on less than $1 a day.

Celebrating VE Day in the Baltic states, the US President lambasted the Soviet occupation and 'secret deals to determine somebody else's fate'. A couple of days later, speaking in front of 100,000 people in Tbilisi's Freedom Square, the US president talked enthusiastically about 'the idea of countries helping others become free' and 'a rational, decent and humane foreign policy'.

'The path of freedom you chose is not easy, but you will not travel it alone,' Bush promised. As Julian Evans reported last week in these pages, the US is actively fomenting revolt in Belarus. In Central Asia, however, US policy is characterised not by supporting the oppressed, but by showering the oppressors with millions of dollars and political support in return for access to the region's military installations and energy resources.

For three years experts have been warning against this hypocrisy. In the words of David Lewis, Central Asia director for the Crisis Group, 'the list of countries which are described as tyrannies is very selective. Uzbekistan or Turkmenistan are exactly as tyrannical as Cuba or Iran, but are not on the list because they are security allies of the US. The double standards in US foreign policy are very clearly demonstrated in Central Asia. And there are no signs that this will change.'

The explanation is not difficult to find. Within a few weeks of 9/11, the Bush administration agreed to pay $500 million for a strategically important military base in Uzbekistan from where its special forces operate into Afghanistan. The other Central Asian countries immediately granted the US landing rights and intelligence-sharing. An old study mate of mine, now an adviser to Donald Rumsfeld, told me in Tashkent, 'What we need in this region is an aircraft carrier in a smooth, calm sea and Uzbekistan is that aircraft carrier.' He laughed and told me to 'grow up' when I asked him about the human rights abuses of the Uzbek regime. 'Mr Rumsfeld is right,' he sarcastically told me, 'Uzbekistan is stable - stable and quiet as a graveyard.'

The Uzbek President Islam Karimov certainly seems pretty stable. In January 2002 he extended his rule until 2020. 'Sometimes authoritative methods are necessary,' he said. And two days later the US secretary of state Beth Jones was on Uzbek TV enthusing over the 'new warmth' between the two countries, wishing the dictator a very happy birthday and inviting him to visit the White House.

The following spring the Uzbek police - who receive $80 million a year from the US - boiled two prisoners to death; an act which did not deter Colin Powell, a couple of months later, from testifying to Congress that Uzbekistan is 'making progress'. 'Such statements are designed to keep the Uzbek regime happy and to fool people in the US,' says an angry Matilda Bogner from the Human Rights Watch office in Tashkent.

'US foreign policy in Central Asia is run by the Pentagon,' says David Lewis. 'In the summer of 2004 Congress forced the State Department to reduce its funding to Uzbekistan because of human rights abuses. But two weeks later the Pentagon gave $25 million to the Uzbek government. This is a clear signal to the Uzbek regime not to take international criticism seriously.'

Many Western diplomats in Tashkent were disgusted with the US policy, but their governments kept them 'on message'. That is until Craig Murray arrived. At 44, Murray was Britain's youngest ambassador, with a promising career ahead of him. With the waistcoat of his three-piece suit barely concealing his pot-belly, his thick glasses and unkempt grey hair, he looked like a quirky professor from a softer, more decent era. Uzbekistan shocked him. 'At the Foreign Office, they prepared me with language lessons, but nobody ever mentioned the 10,000 political and religious prisoners,' he said.

In October 2002 the US ambassador gave a speech in which he praised the close relations between the US and Uzbekistan and argued that Uzbekistan had made 'some progress' on 'democratic reforms and human rights'. The broad smile he bestowed on his new British colleague as he handed over the microphone quickly disappeared. 'Uzbekistan is not a functioning democracy,' said Craig Murray, adding (and contradicting what his US colleague had just said), 'nor does it appear to be moving in the direction of democracy.' He then described, in detail, the case of the two boiled prisoners.