BELARUS NEWS AND ANALYSIS

DATE:

29/11/2006

Kremlin Journalists Given Cold Shoulder in Minsk

The Belarusian administration kicks reporters from the Kremlin pool out of the CIS summit

Yesterday's CIS summit was the first not to be covered by the Russian press. After Kommersant photographer Dmitry Azarov and two correspondents from Moskovsky komsomolets were deprived of their accreditation by Belarusian authorities, all Russian journalists walked out of the summit in protest. Kommersant special correspondent Andrey Kolesnikov, whose name was crossed off the blacklist by Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko personally, did not take advantage of his amnesty.

"You're a Kommersant correspondent?" the presidential security service employee at the entrance to the National Library looked sincerely happy to see me. "We're keeping a dog here especially for you! We don't let those like you in! We have orders."

But they did let me in. And they really did have a dog there, in the cloakroom near the entrance. It was a dirty white Labrador-boxer mix chewing on a shoe. So I can say without stretching the truth too far that they set the dogs on us in Minsk.

The dog was the most good-natured thing in that library lobby.

Kommersant photographer Dmitry Azarov and the correspondents from Moskovsky komsomolets didn't make it past the bouncers either. They were given to understand that their publications had in some way offended the Lukashenko regime. There had been an article in MK that devoted more attention to Lukashenko's private life than was given to the scandalous television star whose ex-husband recently took their children on "vacation" with him to a distant country.

It could have been suggested that Lukashenko didn't like a picture of him published in Kommersant, since Azarov was singled out in the library. But not so. There was a meeting of heads of government in Belarus last week at which Kommersant economic reviewer Petr Netreba.

The low-ranking presidential security service guards took the tribulations of the Russian journalists closer to heart.

"We've been waiting for you!" one of the confessed. "We're ready. You can relax, no one is getting past! What, is that camera shooting me?"

The young man standing next to the metal detector fell instantly silent, and when the camera passed by, the asked, "What channel will they show me on?"

"On all of them," I replied.

"Really?" he exclaimed. "What time? I'll call my mother."

Attempts by the three disfavored journalists to make peace with the security service came to nothing. When asked what the nametags were that everyone who passed through security were given, they were told that now all those people were under control and, if anyone went somewhere he shouldn't, the tag would blow up.

"Don't worry, you won't feel a thing," the hospitable Belarusians said.

The situation had reached the point that no one was sure that it was a joke. The press service of the Belarusian president had just forbidden English-language Russian Today television correspondents to speak English on camera. Every second felt more apocalyptic. It was found out that the three journalists had been banned without explanation last week. Mentioning that Minsk had been trusted to hold the summit by a general decision of all the heads of the CIS and the presidential security had no right to refuse accreditation to anyone at the event had no effect.

Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov attempted to intervene at that point. After receiving a note signed by the minister, the Belarusians said, "Well, all right, let them come."

But then they came to and announced that they had no chance of being admitted to the event. Head of the Russian presidential executive staff Sergey Sobyanin tried to resolve the problem by calling colleague in Belarus. They seemed to have reached an agreement again. Then the same thing happened. The Belarusian administration disavowed its previous decision at the last moment (the evening before the summit) - undoubtedly on the order of its head.

When Russian President Vladimir Putin arrived in Minsk and the journalists were blocked from entering the National Library, the Russian president's press secretary tried to reach an agreement with his colleague. I understood that no one wanted a needless scandal. When I got into the event, I was sure of it. I was surprised and offended, of course, that I was not on the blacklist of honor. So I also made enquiries, with sensational results. A high-placed Belarusian official told me that "Alexander Grigoryevich [Lukashenko] remembers that he promised to crawl into a gas pipeline with you two years ago in Sochi, so you have nothing to worry about."

I was worried any way. The only right thing to do was to walk out of the summit, if only because it would be impossible to understand what was going on at it any way, since all meetings were closed.

The entire Kremlin pool agreed, which was the only pleasant surprise of the day. It would seem that the employees of information agencies were supposed to inform their clients of the results of the summit, at least of Lukashenko's opening phrase at the expanded meeting: "Respected friends, I welcome you once again to Belarusian land. Thank you for coming. Every Belarusian knows about this event today, has waited for it eagerly and is waiting for information from this hall. We are at the epicenter not only of our own country. Our neighbors are watching us closely as well, as, I think, are ones at a greater distance. Therefore, I want to wish success for this work and we will do everything we can to make your work successful: So far, we have no complaints from participants. So far, we have done everything to make it comfortable for everyone to work here."

But the information agencies only reported that the Kremlin pool walked out of the library a that time, slamming the door behind them.

That was good work.

Andrey Kolesnikov

Source:

http://www.kommersant.com/p725702/CIS_summit_Minsk/

Google