91Èȱ¬

I returned to Hodjent, Tajikistan for the trial of our reporter Urunboy Usmonov.

In June he was arrested , I visited him in prison, and eventually he was released and was able to see his family.

When I've written about central Asia before, I've explained that the city of Hodjent is believed to have been built by Alexander the Great. Here Alexander got married to a local princess called Roxana.

Perhaps it is inspired by this context that my thoughts take on the Hellenic features of a Socratic or Platonic dialogue. Waiting for the trial I ask myself: is the 91Èȱ¬ - in which I include myself - entirely objective in the coverage of Urunboy's case? Do we take one side over the other because the case involves our own reporter?

And my 91Èȱ¬ side replies: yes, we were - and we are - objective throughout the whole case. We have reported the position, the logic and the allegations of those on the other side: the security services investigation team, the prosecutor's office, and the Tajik central and local authorities.

However if this is a Socratic dialogue that requires a formal answer, I should probe myself further.

My 91Èȱ¬ side develops its argument. It says: sometimes objectivity is not about dividing equally the rights and wrongs - here's your half of praise, here's your half of blame.

There's an Uzbek joke about a hero from folklore called Mullah Nasreddin.

Once Mullah Nasreddin was mediating a dispute between two men. One of them put his argument forward and Mullah said: "You are right". The other man came forward with his argument and the Mullah said to him: "You are also right". The Mullah's wife, who had been listening to the mediation, blustered in and said to her husband: "They can't be right both at the same time!" To which Mullah Nasreddin exclaimed: "It seems that my wife is right too..."

So objectivity is not about distributing equally the rightness.

Very often, my 91Èȱ¬ side says to me, objectivity is about following the truth, the objective truth.

During the trial so far we have learnt:
that Urunboy Usmonov was tortured into making statements about his (I should say non-existent) links with the members of the Hizb ut-Tahrir Party, a political party banned in Tajikistan;
that the head of investigators dictated a "confession" to Urunboy even though the General-Prosecutor had already decided to release Urunboy from prison;
that in the week of the beginning of his trial Urunboy had been denied access to his lawyer;
that the others that stand accused in this case are all saying that Urunboy has never been the part of their organisation

All of these things add up to an objectivity that one should not try to justify the other side with their portion of righteousness, but to report the facts as they are.

The devil's advocate in me - or rather my Socratic side - challenges me further: Would you cover the case to the same extent or would you put the same amount of effort in freeing Urunboy Usmonov if he weren't your own reporter?

Here my 91Èȱ¬ side thinks a bit longer and replies: Yes, you are right. There's a corporate side to this case. We are contractually obliged to protect our employees and I can't deny the fact that 91Èȱ¬ will go far to protect the innocence of Urunboy Usmonov.

Pay attention to those last words: "the innocence of Urunboy Usmonov". Until now we haven't been shown a single fact of any wrongdoing, no evidence of criminal acts.

Because of this we have good reason to believe in - and uphold - his innocence. There's also a moral point to our argument, my 91Èȱ¬ side says: if the list above of all the wrongdoings of the security services (ie the torture, being forced to write a confession, etc) are happening to a 91Èȱ¬ reporter under the watchful eyes of diplomats, NGOs, human right organisations, and the 91Èȱ¬ itself, you can imagine what happens to others in the similar situation, who are less protected or not protected at all.

The case of Urunboy is a showcase, which exposes the current state of judicial practices in Tajikistan. By scrupulously following and reporting it we are raising the issues that apply to hundreds of other cases.

My Socratic side seemingly agrees with this position, but its provocative nature is heated by the extremely hot weather in Hodjent (up to 40 degrees in the shade where I'm typing this on my Blackberry) and it asks: It seems that the Tajik authorities dislike the international pressure and would love to sort the case out, however they don't want to lose face either. There's a local saying: "One falls from the horse, but still clings to the saddle". So can't you find a compromise, to accept some guilt, and be pardoned by the Amnesty law which has just been adopted?

Despite the heat my 91Èȱ¬ side tries to keep its cool and says: At the first glance it seems reasonable. But when you look at it a bit deeper, wouldn't it create a harmful precedent, which will leave the entire journalistic community of Tajikistan at risk of future cases like this one? Wouldn't the compromise which you are suggesting be at the expense of free and independent journalism in Tajikistan?

And last but not least. I have spent long hours with Urunboy while I've been in Tajikistan this time and he is determined to fight his case to the end.

Now that Urunboy and the trial itself have disclosed all the wrongdoings of the security services and judicial practices, wouldn't we be betraying him if we decide to pull back from our position of defence?

As he is determined to fight for the establishment of his innocence, so should we, my 91Èȱ¬ side says.

And as well as for his sake, and also for the sake of other journalists in both Tajikistan, and all over the world.

While I have been writing up this Socratic dialogue, I have received news that the trial of Urunboy Usmonov will be postponed until 19 September because of the celebrations of the 20th anniversary of Tajikistan's independence.

Which will give me more time for Hellenistic thinking in the city which is believed to be built by Alexander the Great.