The former president of Azerbaijan, the respected and now passed Heydar Aliyev, lived at one time with his wife in an apartment building just a short walk from his office in the KGB Building and around the corner from the Sabail Police Station. Like all Stalinkas, apartments in this building have higher ceilings and more floor space than those in subsequently built Soviet apartment buildings and its location like most Stalinkas located across the xUSSR is prestigious and central. A marble relief in honor of Zarife khanum on the side of the apartment building preceded by several years the one placed subsequently to honor the memory of the first post-Soviet president of Azerbaijan. Each day fresh flowers are placed beneath each bas-relief near the building’s entrance. Its grey-blue façade is kept respectfully clean and in good repair. The street, once named in honor of the nation has been renamed in honor of one of the nation’s prominent women politicians, who unfortunately was killed in an automobile accident soon after the independent Republic was founded.
The previous president frequently closed D.Aliyeva Street while he was driven to and from work or out to his Mardakan dacha during the summer months, or while he traveled to and from the airport. The current president continues the same practice. Like a fire engine racing off to an emergency, this event though not daily is commonplace.
After completing an interview with a member of the opposition and on the way to another across the street at the Ministry of Communications and Information Management, D.Aliyeva Street outside the former president’s residence was quiet as the police effectively stopped traffic and people in anticipation of not only the transit of Azerbaijan's president but the president of Latvia. The usual bustle stopped as police lined the street ushering cars and people off the road. What might be an enthusiastic photo opportunity in some countries, here individuals furtively position their cell phone cameras in hopes of unobtrusively catching a photo but without attracting the attention of the uniformed and plain clothed officers. Taking photos of the Azerbaijan President’s motorcade is against the law. So after the President’s Mercedes limo passed a street officer had the chance to act on this law.
“I have to ask for your film. It is not permitted to take photos of the President’s motorcade…right, then the photos need to be deleted from your digital camera.”
This small and insignificant moment suggests in some ways the evolving state of political and investigative journalism. Reporters in general are reluctant to pursue a story that potentially touches the president even indirectly without prior permissions. When there is a perception that answering questions, sharing information, taking photos, or in some other manner offering public expression might be interpreted as against the law then the prefix “Post”-Soviet may be considered in this regard inappropriate. As the avenues available for relatively open expression become constrained and the executive branch of government exercises its privileged control over what it decides are incorrect activities, simply taking photos can be viewed less "simply" and more suspiciously.
Salvatore Ferragamo has opened a branch on Baku’s “Rodeo Drive,” a wide avenue paralleling the edge of the Caspian in downtown Baku that has traditionally by its location been a prestigious address. Ferragamo neighbors Armani, Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Tiffany’s and so forth. Their locations as well as the majority of the buildings along this boulevard were built at the turn of the 19th century when the oil barons were fueling a construction boom as intense as the one currently enveloping the city. National writers, foreign dignitaries, Soviet communist leaders and academicians lived along this concourse in buildings that ranged from two to five stories and flanked out along either side of the Maiden’s Tower. Homes and offices incorporated architectural elements ranging from Gothic to Baroque, fairytale to neo-classical in a mélange that from their collective eclecticism weaved a unified urban corridor.
Passing by Gucci the clean lines of Ferragamo’s re-designed façade offers a contemporary layer of history on a building that was built when Baku was first placed at the center of international oil development, then later was the Soviet Union’s capital of oil industry, to the moment when Azerbaijan re-gained its independence and signed its “Contract of the Century.” But photographing the outside of this building is viewed suspiciously by sales clerks inside Ferragamo, as expressed by their nervous and unsubstantiated declarations that it is “forbidden” to take photos of the building’s exterior. Unexpected and odd, the clerks are ready to step outside and earnestly explain that the store’s manager has given them verbal orders to stop anyone with a camera.
“Why? Is there a sign”
“No, it is simply forbidden. Our manager has told us so – the policy isn’t written, but everyone knows it is not allowed.”
“This doesn’t seem odd to you, that even a tourist visiting your city can’t take a photo of a famous store, as if it were a military base rather than a shoe store?”
“We are told to stop anyone from taking photos.”
Earnest, if not zealous, store clerks following through on the orders of a store manager might in other contexts offer a “Seinfeldian moment.” But unfortunately this “moment” is becoming increasingly routine.
Taghiyev’s home is a mansion covering a full city block, consisting of former company office space on the first floor and salons, “Eastern” and “Western” meeting spaces, and living quarters on the second floor. The government has completed sandblasting the outside back to its former beige, as it has the bank Taghiyev built across the street. The entrance to the bank is concretely declared by the original stone carving, “BANK,” chiseled in large letters over a century ago in pre-Revolution Russian characters. The image is striking, historic, and offers a wonderful photo opportunity providing the bank’s security guard doesn’t notice.
“Photos are forbidden.”
“But this is a wonderful building, built by Taghiyev, with old Russian script. It is a part of history.”
“Not allowed.”
“Unless there is a sign stating photography is forbidden, then I’ll celebrate Baku’s history and show others who have never had the chance to visit.”
Photographing a shoe store and a bank fall into different categories of suspicion than does capturing images of the president’s motorcade, and perhaps justifiably. While deleting photos when asked by an officer may seem an adequate way to resolve the transgression of photographing the president’s speeding motorcade, the five additional officers felt further investigation into this incident was warranted by top-down orders.
“If you wouldn’t mind, this will just take 5 minutes to walk over to the Sabail District Police Station.”
Although 5 minutes was actually 3 hours, and included questioning by a detective, a discussion on the merits of red caviar from Russia’s Far East and black caviar from the Caspian with a colonel (Rasim) followed by a drive in his new Mercedes, signing an affidavit that states attempting to photograph the president was done out of curiosity and respect, and agreeing to meet the colonel for vodka at a later time, in context the government of Azerbaijan — especially since 2005 — has worked to narrow the avenues of expression and civic involvement. Government actions are perceived differently by individuals ranging from “concerned protection” to “managed totalitarianism.” Labeled in any manner, average citizens understand that “freedoms” can be expressed and exercised differently, depending on social position, one’s last name, disposable income, and how high up one’s “roof” is located.
“What do you expect, he’s Lezhgii,” was offered by an older gentleman in explanation for what he perceived as a slow response to his request for directions in Khachmas. This was then followed by a futher clarification that the best peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes would be found in the Guba region while fruits and anything sweet would come from Lankaran.