This section will concentrate on the overwhelming majority of Meskhetian Turks who reside outside of Georgia. Conditions for those living in Georgia today will be examined in depth in a later chapter. Circumstances for the Meskhetian Turk diaspora vary widely, depending largely on their place of residence. There are many, especially those affected by the 1989 events in Uzbekistan, who are worse off today than they were a decade ago. But the same can be said for the overall population of the former Soviet Union, which has been wracked by interethnic violence and economic collapse since its implosion in 1991. In many areas, Meskhetian Turks face challenges largely similar to those faced by the population as a whole in trying to forge an economic revival. However, in a few regions, Meskhetian Turks, due to an unfounded perception that they are “undesirable migrants,” are suffering terrible injustices. They are being subjected to pernicious treatment at the hands of local officials, especially in the Russian Federation, and such discrimination is lending a sense of urgency to repatriation efforts.Krasnodar
Meskhetian Turks in 1998 were being pressured to leave Krasnodar, a southern Russian province that is dominated by neo-communist political leaders. Authorities have engaged in administrative manipulation, as well as outright intimidation, in an effort to expel the approximately 17,000 Meskhetian Turks residing in the region, most of whom could be classified as persons forcibly displaced by the 1989 Uzbek riots. Indeed, Soviet census data show that 2,135 Meskhetian Turks were living in Krasnodar before the migration wave of 1989.
A major instrument of state-sponsored repression in Krasnodar has been Cossack groups—essentially ultra-nationalist renegades with tenuous links to their tsarist-era traditions—who engage in organized thuggery. Local Meskhetian Turks report that nighttime “visits” are a common occurrence. During such visits, Cossacks act with impunity, engaging in robbery and vandalism. Meskhetian Turks, meanwhile, are largely helpless to defend themselves, knowing too that the transgressions against them will go unpunished. “What is being attempted is ethnic cleansing,” said Alexander Ossipov, a human rights activist with the Moscow-based organization Memorial. “Local authorities do not demonstrate much respect for the law, especially the human rights obligations of the Russian Federation.”
Compounding feelings of insecurity is the fact that many Meskhetian Turks are technically stateless. Fleeing the Uzbek troubles, they arrived in 1989 as Soviet citizens, crossing no international border. But the sudden Soviet collapse in 1991 put them on a Kafkaesque collision course with bureaucratic absurdity. They found themselves citizens of a state that no longer existed, and lacked the ability to acquire citizenship of one of the empire’s successor states. Many had left Uzbekistan in such haste, fearing for their physical well-being, that they failed to properly de-register their residency in the Central Asian republic. That provided Krasnodar authorities the pretext to deny Russian citizenship, or other durable status, to the Meskhetian Turk newcomers. Uzbekistan, meanwhile, effectively disowned those Meskhetian Turks who left. Thus, about 15,000 Meskhetian Turks today must operate in a status vacuum.
Lacking Russian citizenship or other durable legal status means that the large majority of Meskhetian Turks in Krasnodar do not possess proper permanent residency permits. The system of residency permits—colloquially called propiskas—is a legacy of the Soviet era, and is a bureaucratic practice that in effect is designed to limit the freedom of movement. A significant number of those lacking documentation are eligible to acquire citizenship and fulfill residency requirements, according to Ossipov. But, he added, local government officials have erected barriers that effectively prevent Meskhetian Turks from obtaining what they are legally entitled to. Instead, authorities have implemented arbitrary and onerous taxation policies specifically targeted at Meskhetian Turks, aiming to make continued residency undesirable. For example, Meskhetian Turks are required to pay a special tax every 45 days, costing about $30, or about five percent of the average monthly wage. In addition, Meskhetian Turks are required to renew temporary residency permits every 45 days, with the fees also costing roughly $30.
Besides discriminatory taxation and disproportional fees, most Meskhetian Turks do not enjoy easy access to essential social services, such as medical care, due to their unofficial status. Meskhetian Turks who own cars are additionally harassed by unreasonable inspection requirements. “We receive permission to drive for only 45 days at a time between auto inspections,” said Sarvar Tedorov, a leader of the local Vatan organization. “This means we have to spend much time waiting in lines, and we always have to pay bribes.”
The crushing bureaucratic burden and officially sanctioned intimidation are sources of tremendous stress, Meskhetian Turk leaders in Krasnodar said. In day-to-day living, most Meskhetian Turks felt they had to operate like fugitives. Tedorov said Meskhetian Turks live in constant fear:
You wake up in the morning and you are immediately afraid. You not only fear going out into the street, but also worry about being visited by the police, or cossack groups, who do nothing but demand bribes and harass you.… You try to leave home as infrequently as possible. When you must go out to shop, or for some other task, you always worry about being stopped.… The authorities do not accept our Soviet-era documents. They say that we must have Russian documents. When we try to explain the reasons that we don’t have proper documents, they do not care. Their reply is, “either go away, or die.”… Their actions are designed to push us out, or to provoke us into doing something that would allow them to deport us.… During the [agricultural] season, we wake up before dawn and go to our fields. There are fewer police on the streets then.… Factory directors have been told by local authorities to either fire all Meskhetian Turk workers, or face heavy penalties.A government stranglehold on mass media has allowed it to build popular support for discriminatory practices, according to Meskhetian Turk leaders. Tedorov and others described Meskhetian Turks as having to endure a “propaganda siege,” in which they are denied the ability to counter disinformation. “Television is controlled by the government,” he said. “Programs are designed to make the people hate Meskhetian Turks. Meskhetian Turks are blamed for all the problems in the region.”Observers warned that a violent and widespread confrontation in Krasnodar, of the kind already witnessed in 1989 in Uzbekistan, could easily occur. The region has already witnessed several spasms of violence—including a 1995 incident in which Cossacks indulged in a pogrom of Meskhetian Turks at the Tabakosovkhoz collective farm—but so far has avoided a widespread confrontation. “Meskhetian Turks, as well as other minorities, are at risk,” said Ossipov, the Memorial activist. “How events develop will depend on the positions taken by local officials.” According to Ossipov, it appeared as if clashes were imminent in early 1998, but interethnic tension began to ease towards the end of spring after federal officials in Moscow exerted pressure on regional authorities to moderate their policies.
Local officials claim to be acting with the aim of avoiding social upheaval. In the official view, Ossipov said, the large-scale influx of newcomers into the region since the Soviet collapse threatens stability. If the steady migration flow is not stopped, it could destroy the tenuous socio-economic balance in the comparatively impoverished region. Instituting discriminatory practices against Meskhetian Turks, the official reasoning continues, discourages others from migrating to Krasnodar. “They [authorities] argue that the key goal is the preservation of stability, and the protection of the interests of the local population,” Ossipov said.
However, statistics undermine the regional government’s argument that arrivals endanger stability. Ossipov said the arrival of newcomers had not caused any drastic demographic shift in Krasnodar, thus was not a threat to overload the local social infrastructure. “It is a myth that Krasnodar is suffering because of migration,” he said, adding that recent annual population growth rates in the territory were less than one percent.
Given that Meskhetian Turks are “like a nation under collective house arrest” in Krasnodar, urgent steps are needed to facilitate the humane management of repatriation to Georgia, said Sadain Tamimov, another Vatan leader in Krasnodar. Action is also needed to enhance protections for those wishing to integrate into the local community. Though the desire to return was strong among Meskhetian Turks, the ability to realize their hopes were lagging. “We need fast resolutions to these [repatriation] questions,” Tamimov said. “We need to be able to tell Meskhetian Turks some good news. They are losing faith.” Indeed, the idea of emigration to Turkey was gaining appeal in mid 1998 among Meskhetian Turks in Krasnodar.
Elsewhere in Russia and Ukraine
Tens of thousands of Meskhetian Turks are residing in other Russian regions—including Belgorod, Rostov, Stavropol, and Volgograd—although in no location are conditions for them as difficult as in Krasnodar. Nevertheless, Meskhetian Turks encounter widespread resentment and endure official harassment. Meskhetian Turk leaders report that regional authorities regularly engage in policies that obstruct the Meskhetian Turks’ ability to enjoy the full protections offered under the Russian Federation’s constitution. Specifically, Meskhetian Turks are frequently hindered in attempts to obtain propiskas. In Ukraine, meanwhile, about 9,000 Meskhetian Turks live in comparative harmony with the indigenous population. Overall, significant numbers of Meskhetian Turks in Russia and Ukraine retain the desire to return to Georgia.
Azerbaijan
The majority of Meskhetian Turks in Azerbaijan live relatively tranquil lives. While many struggle to earn a living through agriculture, they generally do not experience undue hardships stemming from official harassment. On the contrary, the government of President Haidar Aliev has been sympathetic to their plight. “The situation here is not so bad for Meskhetian Turks,” said Joost van der Aalst, head of the International Organization for Migration’s office in Azerbaijan.
Azerbaijan is home to upwards of 100,000 Meskhetian Turks who were attracted by its geographical proximity to Georgia, as well as by strong cultural and linguistic links with the Azerbaijani people. The first Meskhetian Turks began arriving in Azerbaijan in the late 1950s, amidst the de-Stalinization campaign initiated by then Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev. The thaw saw the lifting of the special regime for Meskhetian Turks, which had severely limited their freedom of movement following their 1944 deportation. The only major restriction that remained in place was the prohibition on resettling in Georgia.
An estimated 20,000 to 25,000 Meskhetian Turks settled in Azerbaijan between 1958 and 1962. The inflow continued over the years, although pinpointing precise numbers is difficult because many were officially registered as Azerbaijani. Vatan leaders in Azerbaijan asserted that close to 40,000 Meskhetian Turks were living in the republic in 1989, the time of the last Soviet census. Those numbers were then augmented by the more than 45,000 who arrived in Azerbaijan to escape the Uzbekistan troubles. Up to 5,000 more have come to Azerbaijan from Russia during the 1990s, according to some estimates.
Those Meskhetian Turks who have spent the last 30 or 40 years in Azerbaijan are understandably in the best position, and have been able to preserve cultural traditions. Living mostly in rural areas engaged in farming, these early arrivers have become Azerbaijani citizens and typically enjoy favorable living standards within the context of the country’s overall economic difficulties. “We have a strong mutual understanding with Azerbaijanis,” said Khalit Tashtanov, the head of the Vatan office in Azerbaijan. “We share a similar language and culture, and they are well aware of our situation.”
Sabirabad and Saatly—dry, flat, and windswept regions in Azerbaijan’s interior—are two areas where Meskhetian Turks have established deep roots, living in compact settlements. Over time, they turned the arid land into thriving farms, managing to build comfortable homes in the process. However, the collapse of the Soviet system had a devastating impact on even the most well-established Meskhetian Turks, unleashing chaos on what had been a steady, if numbingly routine agricultural lifestyle. Collective farms were broken up and the Soviet-era social welfare and education infrastructure fell into disrepair. Farmers after 1991 were expected to fend for themselves, and for many, it has been a struggle.
Although most of whatever wealth they possessed has been wiped out by inflation, yet long-time resident Meskhetian Turks say they have enough to survive. “It is a subsistence lifestyle. We just barely get enough from the land to meet our needs,” said Suleiman Gafurov, a Meskhetian Turk tenant farmer who heads a small cooperative of 15 families with 40 hectares of cotton and 20 hectares of wheat.
Meskhetian Turks displaced by the Fergana riots do not enjoy the same status as those in the first migration waves, and thus encounter greater difficulties. Most are not Azerbaijani citizens. Because many were registered as refugees, the most recent Meskhetian Turk arrivals were ineligible to obtain automatic Azerbaijani citizenship after the country became independent in 1991.
An inadequate legislative framework in 1998 made it virtually impossible for Meskhetian Turks classified as refugees to change their status. Azerbaijan lacked both a law on citizenship and a law on naturalization. Azerbaijani officials pledged in late 1998 that the necessary legislation would be adopted in the near term. However, the inability to acquire citizenship has grave implications for those hoping to repatriate. Firstly, those without Azerbaijani citizenship would not possess a valid passport, which would be needed to go to Georgia. Secondly, the lack of citizenship casts questions on the ability of potential repatriates to sell property, especially land. Legal obstacles to liquidating assets could significantly hinder repatriation efforts.
The hyperinflation and economic dysfunction synonymous with the 1990s, has meant that nine years after the arrival of Meskhetian Turks from Uzbekistan, many live in abject poverty. On the Adygun farm in the Sabirabad region, roughly a dozen families were jammed into a dilapidated building that had formerly served as a school. The building lacked all essential services—electricity, heat, and plumbing. Residents must walk 200 yards to gain access to potable water. “Sometimes the only thing available to eat is the chaff from wheat,” said Fakhridin Ibragimov, a resident at the shelter.
Several relief groups are working to improve conditions for the least fortunate Meskhetian Turks. The United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) is one such organization, spending about $320,000 in 1998, and hoping to allocate $500,000 in 1999, on programs to increase access to medical care and education, and on agricultural improvements. Malaria is one of the biggest medical threats in the region, according to UMCOR field officer Namik Heydarov, who added that two UMCOR medical teams travel to various towns to teach prevention methods. In 1999, UMCOR hopes to initiate a program designed to expand the housing stock, accommodating those Meskhetian Turks with the most needs.
Getting an accurate gauge of the desire of Azerbaijan’s Meskhetian Turk community to return to their Georgian homeland is difficult, hindered in part by misleading and incomplete census data that makes it difficult to determine precise numbers of Meskhetian Turks. Vatan leaders are quick to assert that a majority of Meskhetian Turks would return given the opportunity. Other experts are more reserved in their estimations, saying much depends on age and economic circumstances. Older Meskhetian Turks, especially those who were born in Georgia, are anxious for the opportunity to return, while those born since the deportation, who have never set foot in the homeland, are to a greater degree indifferent.
Those from Uzbekistan who have been exposed to further travails in Azerbaijan are most eager to return. “After Uzbeks hunted us like animals [in 1989], it is only natural that we would want to return to the homeland,” said Kemal Beridze, a deputy leader of the Vatan organization in Azerbaijan. Opinion is far more equivocal among well-established Meskhetian Turks. “Not everyone would go,” said Gazi Muftiyev, who is the principal of a school in the town Nasimikent in Sabirabad. “It might be that I return and my sons remain. They are well established in Azerbaijan.” Others, such as Gafurov, the farmer, are leery of repatriating to Georgia, fearing cultural assimilation efforts. “I am a Turk and a Moslem,” Gafarov said. “I would rather remain here in Azerbaijan and remain a Moslem than to return to Georgia and encounter pressure to conform to their Christian culture.”
Yusunov predicted that once repatriation became feasible, many would take a wait-and-see position, unwilling to give the Georgian government the benefit of the doubt on whether their rights and cultural traditions would be respected. “Today perhaps only 20 percent of Meskhetian Turks would return,” Yusunov said. “But the number could climb to 90 percent if the situation changes.”
Uzbekistan and other Central Asian Nations
For the approximately 40,000 Meskhetian Turks who remained in Uzbekistan following the 1989 events, life may be currently stable, but the future is fraught with anxiety about a sudden return of interethnic strife.
A significant number of Meskhetian Turks in Uzbekistan are urbanized, forming part of the country’s entrepreneurial class. These Meskhetian Turk business leaders own shops and cafes, wear expensive clothes and gold watches, and drive Turkish-made autos. Local and national authorities generally allow Meskhetian Turks to pursue economic opportunities without imposing discriminatory restrictions. “There are no barriers impeding us in terms of doing business, but government service—even on the local level—is inaccessible,” said Binali Aliev, a leader of the City Cultural Center of Meskhetian Turks in the Uzbek capital of Tashkent.
Although Meskhetian Turks seem to have recovered economically from the trauma of 1989, the cultural damage wrought by the rioting has not been fully repaired. A sizable number of those who weathered 1989 have felt it prudent to assimilate in order to insulate themselves against potential harassment. The government, which is anxious to prevent any flare-up of interethnic tension, also reacts warily to expressions of cultural distinctiveness. “It is easier if one poses as an Azerbaijani in order to find work,” said Musa Shirinov, a young leader of the Meskhetian Turk community in the industrial city of Amalyk, about 30 miles south of Tashkent.
Meskhetian Turk leaders express particular concern about the erosion of their distinct language, citing the shortage of qualified teachers. Although President Islam Karimov’s government has sanctioned the operation of cultural centers for many of the country’s national minorities, such as Meskhetian Turks and Crimean Tatars, it has not followed through with appropriate resources. “We are approaching a critical moment. Our generation is already much different from that of our fathers,” said Malik Shudoliev, another young Meskhetian Turk in Amalyk.
A key to preserving their culture is the ability to identify exactly who is and who is not a Meskhetian Turk. “It is a very difficult task to know exactly how many Meskhetian Turks there are in Uzbekistan,” said Jasim Rashidov, the chairman of the Tashkent cultural center. “First of all, there has been much intermarrying among nationalities. Secondly, many Meskhetian Turks were officially registered as Uzbeks, Azerbaijanis, Turks, even Russians and Georgians.” The cultural center is carrying out its own census of Meskhetian Turks in Tashkent as the first step in formulating a cultural preservation strategy. But Rashidov said work is proceeding at a painstakingly slow pace because of a lack of sufficient funds.
Meskhetian Turks said that the tight control of President Karimov’s government over society ensures relative interethnic harmony, adding that they felt secure. At the same time, the government has cultural center leaders clearly feeling intimidated—and reluctant to raise the slightest objection to past or present policies. “The Fergana events weren’t the fault of the Uzbek people. It was artificially whipped up by certain circles,” Rashidov said. “Our activity has absolutely no contradictions with the Uzbek government.”
Despite expressions of harmony, memories of 1989 linger. Lacking any political influence whatsoever, Meskhetian Turks say that they remain vulnerable to the vagaries of sudden shifts in government policy. The sense of security could dissipate suddenly if incumbent leaders were to leave the scene. For this reason, most are looking to leave the country, biding their time for the right opportunity.
Unlike Meskhetian Turks elsewhere, however, talk about leaving focuses not on a return to the homeland in Georgia, but of pursuing a new life in Turkey. Indeed, most of those interviewed said they did not want to be referred to as Meskhetian Turks, instead describing themselves simply as Turks. So far, emigration to Turkey has proceeded at a slow pace. According to young Meskhetian Turks in Amalyk, approximately 500 families have moved to Turkey. “We don’t have much hope of returning to Georgia. There are many words spoken and no action, and it will always be this way,” said Lachin Shakhbazov, a Meskhetian Turk entrepreneur in Amalyk. “Young Meskhetian Turks around here have no desire to go to Georgia. They know they would be treated like second-class citizens, whereas if they went to Turkey there would be an opportunity to build a better life.”
The Uzbek government, for its part, does not appear anxious to facilitate the outward emigration of Meskhetian Turks or other ethnic minorities. The main concern for the government is that large-scale out-migration might have an adverse impact on the economy, as most of those leaving would be industrial specialists and skilled laborers. “They [Uzbek officials] do not want a mass exodus,” said an international relief official in Tashkent. For Meskhetian Turks, the fees connected with repatriation—for example, the fee for renouncing Uzbek citizenship, which is necessary in order to obtain a residency permit in the country of destination—are burdensome, costing up to a half-month’s salary.
Uzbekistan’s neighbors, Kazakstan and Kyrgyzstan, are home to significant Meskhetian Turk communities. Again, precise numbers are elusive, but experts estimate that the communities number in the tens of thousands. Vatan officials report that some Meskhetian Turks displaced during the Uzbekistan events in 1989, and who originally resettled in Azerbaijan, Krasnodar, and other locations in Russia, are now returning to Central Asia, primarily Kazakstan and Kyrgyzstan. In general, Meskhetian Turks report no problems in co-habitating with others in those two republics, and the respective governments appear tolerant, if not sympathetic.
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