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Armenian Journal: In Caucasus enclave, journalists find improvement
International Journalist's Network
July 24, 2006
By Timothy Spence, Knight International Press Fellow
Around the corner from the government offices of the self-declared
Nagorno-Karabakh republic, two journalists spend a recent Friday
evening working in the small offices of the local press club.
That there is not much news this evening may be a good thing-more
than a decade after a ceasefire between Karabakh separatists and the
armies of two former Soviet republics, the peace in this picturesque
Caucasus region remains fragile.
And so do conditions for the journalists who work here. Salaries
are low, information can be hard to come by, and the 11 independent
newspapers depend on outside sponsors for survival. Most residents
of the economically struggling region of 145,000 people cannot
afford the 100 dram (about 23 U.S. cents) it costs for a newspaper.
Advertising is scarce.
The government-run public broadcaster controls the radio and
television stations in Karabakh, and there are several state-sponsored
newspapers. But journalists interviewed here say that while there are
obstacles to getting information, the working environment has become
more free in recent years.
Naira Hayrumyan, left, and Karine Ohanyan say low wages and a reserved
society make work in Nagorno-Karabakh difficult for journalists.
It was hard to imagine this a few years ago, when there were no
alternative and independent mass media in Karabakh," says Karine
Ohanyan, who works for the independent "Demo" newspaper and corresponds
for the London-based Institute for War and Peace Reporting. "However,
now that we have a number of publications independent of authorities,
reporters are able to cover developments fairly by means of such
mass media. As a result, readers can get information from different
sources and formulate their own objective opinion."
Naira Hayrumyan, editor of the online news service KarabakhOpen.com,
also says there is greater freedom for journalists. Officials use
"friendly advice" rather than "threats or force" in dealings with
reporters, she says.
Still, journalists face significant challenges in a region still
scarred by ethnic conflict that turned bloody as the Soviet Union
disintigrated. Self-censorship, the small size of the region and
fears of self-expression-a byproduct of Soviet rule-all make the job
difficult. And a reserved society makes it tough for even the most
aggressive journalists to have their reporting effect change.
"Karabakh reporters live in a small country where all the people
know each other, and many of them simply refuse to be in a story,"
says Hayrumyan, adding that in Karabakh, "we seek to observe the
decencies and not to offend anyone."
Ohanyan and Hayrumyan were interviewed in English and Armenian at the
three-room press club in the capital Stepanakert, and later answered
questions about press freedom by e-mail. Their answers were translated
from the Russian.
Ohanyan of "Demo" says the lack of media influence hurts the
unrecognized Karabakh republic, saying there is no "fourth estate"
to spur public debate or create awareness about citizens' concerns.
"They are on their own, in a way, a separate link in the chain, and
on the whole their quality matters little," Ohanyan said. "The media
perform an information function and that's it."
Karabakh got much less international media attention than other
post-Soviet conflicts. The rugged moutnains of the landlocked region
made access difficult and its small size made this a secondary story to
the battles in Chechnya and the former Yugoslavia, and less compelling
a story than the peaceful revolutions and independence movements in
the Baltic states and Eastern Europe.
Two boys sit in front of the clinic in Shushi, a once-thriving mountain
town where most homes and buildings lie in ruin 12 years after the
ceasefire. Both Ohanyan and Hayrumyan say that too little attention
has been given to their homeland's struggles and that even regional
media neglect to report about how the current political stalemate is
affecting people. "The Azerbaijan and Armenian media often feature
the lives of their citizens, but the way simple people live in the
conflict region gets little coverage," Ohanyan says.
Karabakh-which means "black garden" and is also known in Armenian
as Artsak-was a majority Armenian area that in the earliest years of
the Soviet Union was incorporated into Azerbaijan. Tensions began to
grow in 1988 as the ethnic Armenians sought autonomy from Azerbaijan.
Soviet interior ministry forces were sent to quash the separatist
movement, but war broke out in the final months of the Soviet Union
in 1991
Christian Armenia backed Karabakh against mostly Muslim Azerbaijan.
The fighting, punctuated by accusations of ethnic cleansing and
forced expulsions on both sides, mirrored the ethnic conflicts in
the Balkans. Armenian forces and the Karabakh militia succeeded in
driving out the better-armed Azeri army before Russia brokered a
ceasefire in 1994.
As many as 30,000 people died in the conflict, and tens of thousands
of people were driven from their homes. Nearly everyone was affected by
the fighting in the enclave, which is the size of the American state of
Delaware. Hayrumyan's husband was killed in 1992 during the conflict.
Karabakh declared independence from Azerbaijan and aligned itself
with Armenia, but the international community does not recognize it
as an independent republic. Talks have stalled on a lasting peace
deal despite renewed efforts earlier this year.
While Karabakh is largely peaceful today, scars of war remain. The
once-thriving mountain city of Shushi lies in ruin. Some 3,000 people
live there, about 10 percent of its population before the war.
While the media in Karabakh, Armenia and Azerbaijan often wage
wars of rhetoric and nationalistic sentiment, that may be changing.
"Recently," says Ohanyan, "there was a breakthrough in the independent
printed press, namely analytical and other information have appeared
covering the security issue. I figure it's the opinions of people
in a story that can be nationalistic, but the story itself gives
fair coverage."
Timothy Spence is a Knight Fellow working with journalists
in Armenia. This is his second tour with the program; he
was previously in Ethiopia. The John S. and James L. Knight
Foundation sponsors the fellowships, administered by the
International Center for Journalists. For more information, visit
http://www.knight-international.org/.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
International Journalist's Network
July 24, 2006
By Timothy Spence, Knight International Press Fellow
Around the corner from the government offices of the self-declared
Nagorno-Karabakh republic, two journalists spend a recent Friday
evening working in the small offices of the local press club.
That there is not much news this evening may be a good thing-more
than a decade after a ceasefire between Karabakh separatists and the
armies of two former Soviet republics, the peace in this picturesque
Caucasus region remains fragile.
And so do conditions for the journalists who work here. Salaries
are low, information can be hard to come by, and the 11 independent
newspapers depend on outside sponsors for survival. Most residents
of the economically struggling region of 145,000 people cannot
afford the 100 dram (about 23 U.S. cents) it costs for a newspaper.
Advertising is scarce.
The government-run public broadcaster controls the radio and
television stations in Karabakh, and there are several state-sponsored
newspapers. But journalists interviewed here say that while there are
obstacles to getting information, the working environment has become
more free in recent years.
Naira Hayrumyan, left, and Karine Ohanyan say low wages and a reserved
society make work in Nagorno-Karabakh difficult for journalists.
It was hard to imagine this a few years ago, when there were no
alternative and independent mass media in Karabakh," says Karine
Ohanyan, who works for the independent "Demo" newspaper and corresponds
for the London-based Institute for War and Peace Reporting. "However,
now that we have a number of publications independent of authorities,
reporters are able to cover developments fairly by means of such
mass media. As a result, readers can get information from different
sources and formulate their own objective opinion."
Naira Hayrumyan, editor of the online news service KarabakhOpen.com,
also says there is greater freedom for journalists. Officials use
"friendly advice" rather than "threats or force" in dealings with
reporters, she says.
Still, journalists face significant challenges in a region still
scarred by ethnic conflict that turned bloody as the Soviet Union
disintigrated. Self-censorship, the small size of the region and
fears of self-expression-a byproduct of Soviet rule-all make the job
difficult. And a reserved society makes it tough for even the most
aggressive journalists to have their reporting effect change.
"Karabakh reporters live in a small country where all the people
know each other, and many of them simply refuse to be in a story,"
says Hayrumyan, adding that in Karabakh, "we seek to observe the
decencies and not to offend anyone."
Ohanyan and Hayrumyan were interviewed in English and Armenian at the
three-room press club in the capital Stepanakert, and later answered
questions about press freedom by e-mail. Their answers were translated
from the Russian.
Ohanyan of "Demo" says the lack of media influence hurts the
unrecognized Karabakh republic, saying there is no "fourth estate"
to spur public debate or create awareness about citizens' concerns.
"They are on their own, in a way, a separate link in the chain, and
on the whole their quality matters little," Ohanyan said. "The media
perform an information function and that's it."
Karabakh got much less international media attention than other
post-Soviet conflicts. The rugged moutnains of the landlocked region
made access difficult and its small size made this a secondary story to
the battles in Chechnya and the former Yugoslavia, and less compelling
a story than the peaceful revolutions and independence movements in
the Baltic states and Eastern Europe.
Two boys sit in front of the clinic in Shushi, a once-thriving mountain
town where most homes and buildings lie in ruin 12 years after the
ceasefire. Both Ohanyan and Hayrumyan say that too little attention
has been given to their homeland's struggles and that even regional
media neglect to report about how the current political stalemate is
affecting people. "The Azerbaijan and Armenian media often feature
the lives of their citizens, but the way simple people live in the
conflict region gets little coverage," Ohanyan says.
Karabakh-which means "black garden" and is also known in Armenian
as Artsak-was a majority Armenian area that in the earliest years of
the Soviet Union was incorporated into Azerbaijan. Tensions began to
grow in 1988 as the ethnic Armenians sought autonomy from Azerbaijan.
Soviet interior ministry forces were sent to quash the separatist
movement, but war broke out in the final months of the Soviet Union
in 1991
Christian Armenia backed Karabakh against mostly Muslim Azerbaijan.
The fighting, punctuated by accusations of ethnic cleansing and
forced expulsions on both sides, mirrored the ethnic conflicts in
the Balkans. Armenian forces and the Karabakh militia succeeded in
driving out the better-armed Azeri army before Russia brokered a
ceasefire in 1994.
As many as 30,000 people died in the conflict, and tens of thousands
of people were driven from their homes. Nearly everyone was affected by
the fighting in the enclave, which is the size of the American state of
Delaware. Hayrumyan's husband was killed in 1992 during the conflict.
Karabakh declared independence from Azerbaijan and aligned itself
with Armenia, but the international community does not recognize it
as an independent republic. Talks have stalled on a lasting peace
deal despite renewed efforts earlier this year.
While Karabakh is largely peaceful today, scars of war remain. The
once-thriving mountain city of Shushi lies in ruin. Some 3,000 people
live there, about 10 percent of its population before the war.
While the media in Karabakh, Armenia and Azerbaijan often wage
wars of rhetoric and nationalistic sentiment, that may be changing.
"Recently," says Ohanyan, "there was a breakthrough in the independent
printed press, namely analytical and other information have appeared
covering the security issue. I figure it's the opinions of people
in a story that can be nationalistic, but the story itself gives
fair coverage."
Timothy Spence is a Knight Fellow working with journalists
in Armenia. This is his second tour with the program; he
was previously in Ethiopia. The John S. and James L. Knight
Foundation sponsors the fellowships, administered by the
International Center for Journalists. For more information, visit
http://www.knight-international.org/.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress