Fascism - Then and Now

The author (4th from left in light blue) attending a NATO conference in 1997.

Recently, my sister sent me some photos from my archive. An unexpected memory surfaced.

At the end of 1990, I started working for the international publication Uzbekistan-CONTACT, published in twelve languages. As a new reporter, I became familiar with readers’ letters. I was surprised that most of the letters came from the parents of recruits. At that time, military service was mandatory for two years in the armed forces throughout the country. The parents’ letters asked for information about their young men’s military service. They were concerned about their loved ones’ silence.

In January, I approached the magazine’s Editor-in-Chief, Kahhar Fattakhovich Rashidov, with a proposal for a new article for publication. He supported my initiative. In the Turkestan Military District, I learned that many Uzbekistanians served in the Siberian Military District. I was sent, along with veteran photojournalist Valentin Kavelin, to Novosibirsk.

We had the opportunity to meet with a group of young Uzbeks. They were teenagers, many of them from distant regions. Some of these young recruits spoke no Russian. They were punished for various infractions, not because they didn’t want to obey their orders; rather they didn’t understand their orders. I had the chance to talk to the guys in our native language. Many were sad. The soldiers, from hot and sunny Uzbekistan, found themselves in bitter Siberian cold serving in construction battalions. These were “troops” with poor eyesight, congenital deafness among other illnesses. Under a standard recruitment approach, these guys wouldn’t have been eligible for military service due to their poor health conditions. It was far easier for those who’d graduated from the Russian schools; many were assigned to prestigious squadrons. When we returned to Uzbekistan, Soviet censorship prevented us from discussing these issues. Despite this, everyone on TV was talking about Perestroika and Glasnost.

Our material was eventually published, though in a manner intended only to mollify the desperate parents of dead soldiers.

“Everything is fine, your sons are healthy and happy.”

But, as we realized a decade later, they needed cannon fodder for Afghanistan.

The author (center-right) with Uzbek soldiers in Siberia, January, 1991.

These days, the lengthy war started by Russia, against Ukraine, has created another patch of bleeding Earth while Putin’s Russia hemorrhages what’s left of its own humanity in the process.

In early 2000, during the regular sessions of the Oliy Majlis (the parliament of Uzbekistan), I had the opportunity to work as a translator. While there, I listened to the first President of Uzbekistan, Islam Karimov, speaking about how five hundred Uzbek soldiers “returned” home (in zinc coffins) in 1989. The parents of said soldiers were strictly forbidden to view the bodies or even bury them in religious rituals. All the caskets came from neighboring Afghanistan, a country which has suffered the consequences of endless war for more than thirty years.