Like our elections, but not quite
BAKU—Well, it seemed a foregone conclusion. President Ilham Aliyev has won a third term, assuring him of another five years leading Azerbaijan, this oil-rich nation on the shores of the Caspian Sea.
There were predictions that he would win at least 85 percent of the vote, and these seem to have been fulfilled, barring last-minute developments before Aliyev is officially proclaimed for his new term. TV footage around midnight showed Azeris gathered at a city square, with crowds waving the country’s flag and banners of what must be the symbol of the New Azerbaijan Party (NAP), which Aliyev leads and which dominates Parliament. The commentary was in Azeri, but there was no mistaking the celebratory atmosphere.
At School No. 15 in a working-class district on the outskirts of the city, elections chair Husonova Malakat, who is a mathematics teacher at the high school, held up a ballot where the voter had written “Dear Ilham,” and another with the notation: “Bless You, Ilham.”
As the counting came to a close at 8:40 p.m., it emerged that the fervid voters’ sentiments had prevailed. Aliyev won a total of 681 votes out of the total 818 ballots cast, with Jamil Asanli, the candidate of the main opposition coalition, the National Council of Democratic Forces, racking up 100 votes.
The rest of the field of 10 candidates fared poorly, with one candidate, the “self-nominated” Zahid Oruj, at least at School No. 15, getting no vote.
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In terms of procedure, elections in this country seemed to proceed in much the same manner as in the Philippines, at least before the PCOS machines brought us into the computer age.
The main difference, to my mind, was the quiet and orderly atmosphere at School. No. 15, giving new meaning to the tired phrase often used when voting time comes, of “clean and orderly” elections.
There were no leaflets carpeting the school yard, no “sa malamig” vendors crowding the gates, no confusion before the lists of voters and registration counters. Instead, there was an eerie silence. As a voter entered the precinct, he or she had to display the right thumb, and if there was no trace of indelible ink when an ultraviolet ray was shone on it, the voter could then proceed to register and take a ballot, entering one of the curtained-off booths.
James Mancham, former president of the Seychelles, who led our group of observers from the Centrist Asia-Pacific Democrats International, made an interesting observation. When we visited three precincts that morning, he said, he observed that most of the voters who came to cast their ballots were middle-aged and elderly. Many of them were dressed in their “Sunday best,” perhaps a testimony to how seriously they took this civic duty.
“I understand that perhaps young people spent the night before partying and needed to sleep late,” said Mancham. “But are young people staying away from voting this time?” Madame Malakat, while agreeing with the reasons for the small number of young voters (the legal voting age is 18), said that in the course of the day, the teens and twentysomethings had shown up, and then pointed out every young person who entered her precinct that late afternoon.
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In fact, there was one very young citizen who joined us in our vigil. His name was Razin Hasunow and he was about 12 years old. He had come to School No. 15, he said, because he wanted to observe the voting and also because he wanted to talk in English with us observers “because English is my favorite subject.”
But when I asked him if he wanted to enter politics, he replied loudly: “Nyet, nyet, nyet (No, no, no in Russian),” later revealing that he wanted to be a policeman and that his dream was to one day visit New York.
Another observer was there in an “official” capacity, affiliated with the NAP as an observer (a “watcher,” as they are called back home). Madame Matanat teaches literature in School No. 15, but says she has been a member of NAP “since its founding” in 1992. At the time we arrived, she was the only person seated in the “watchers’ area,” which is situated a few meters from the registration table.
Serving as some sort of backdrop to the proceedings was a photo wall showing a huge portrait of Haydar Aliyev, the President’s father who was considered the “founding father” of the independent Azerbaijan that emerged from under Soviet rule. Around the portrait were pictures showing the late Aliyev with schoolchildren. It seems it is “official” décor at every government-run school.
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How much of an influence, if any, did the photo montage have on the voters who walked past it on their way to voting? True, there were safeguards put in place to prevent rampant cheating. There were CCTVs on selected sites (School No. 15 was one of them) broadcasting the proceedings live to the central election office and available on the Internet. (At one point during the counting, the all-woman election committee was asked to move their table closer to the camera.) An exit poll was conducted in some precincts, with every 10th voter asked to proceed to the table to answer a questionnaire.
Some foreign critics cite the “atmosphere of intimidation” that prevailed in Azerbaijan in the run-up to the vote, including the arrest of protesters and even critical bloggers, and the disqualification of opposition candidates. Given such “intimidation,” the election could have been flawless and yet still unreflective of the popular will.
But I wonder. Ilham Aliyev may not be as charismatic as his father reportedly was, and tales of corruption among the higher-ups abound, but Azerbaijan’s current level of prosperity certainly has many citizens feeling grateful for “their” Aliyev.
