Violence and looting disrupted former Soviet republic Kyrgyzstan last week as an unexpected coup overthrew the government in the capital city, Bishkek, where English Professor William McRae is teaching this year on a Fulbright assignment.

William McRae

Trouble had been brewing since earlier in March as opposition to the deeply unpopular president, Askar Akayev, came to a head and citizens took to the streets to protest fraudulent parliamentary elections. Akayev was ousted, and the interim prime minister has since pledged support for newly elected legislators, asking for Akayev's official resignation.

McRae, who is teaching at the American University of Central Asia this academic year, is the recipient of two Fulbright Scholar Awards. He has been e-mailing his colleagues here at home to assure them of his safety and to describe the situation from an American's perspective. Here are his personal accounts of life in Bishkek in the past week.

Thursday afternoon, March 24

There is growing political unrest in the country. In the southern cities of Osh (where 11 years ago there was bloody outbreak of ethnic violence between Uzbeks and Kyrgyz) and Jalalabad, an Islamic center, government buildings have been occupied for several days by the opposition.

The issue turns on the legitimacy of the recent parliamentary elections, but this is also colored by widespread poverty, ethnic differences, and, to a small extent, Islamic politics. On Tuesday, there was a pro-government demonstration in Bishkek, and today there are anti-government demonstrations. The flashpoint in Bishkek is a block away from my apartment, so it’s pretty intense here right now. There doesn't seem to be a particularly violent government reaction, partly because the government has been caught off guard by the situation, especially in Jalalbat. The security on the streets is much greater — far more police and now the militia in force, all prepared for controlling large crowds. So far, no weapons are in sight.

The university has been closed today — it is right next to the parliament, and things could get nasty over there. My usual route to work takes me right through the middle of this, so today I am staying at home, watching CNN, and generally laying low. I feel relatively safe right now. There doesn't seem to be an anti-American slant to all this, so much as an anti-government one. Still, it is always possible for a demonstration to turn ugly.

So, the country is interesting. I'm fine.

Bill

Thursday evening, March 24

The situation is becoming more fluid. It is clear that the government has collapsed, but no one seems to know who will take charge. Various names are being floated, ranging from a former vice president to a prime minister to an ambassador. The hand-wringing in the U.S. media about an Islamic revolt or takeover here is absolutely nuts. That will not happen, though it probably will be the case that they will make a bid for a greater voice.

The U.S. embassy is taking a pretty relaxed view of things; rightly, I think. The airport is open. The mayor's office was taken without incident. In fact, I walked by it today and saw only two or three disaffected military police out front. TV is in rebel hands, but regular programming continues. The phones work, though not internationally. The Internet is up (obviously).

The damned revolution has closed stores, though, so I couldn't get myself some cold beer today as it starts to turn humid. There was sporadic gunfire, but nothing organized or concentrated. Right now, the executive building ([our equivalent of] the White House) is lit up like a Christmas celebration (Christmas, by the way, is big time here). Traffic is normal, people are out walking in the streets.

McRae kayaking whitewater rapids.

If the government will move, it will move tonight, but it is too disorganized, I think. So, here I am, trying to teach in the middle of a revolution — quite literally a block away. I can watch it all from my balcony.

For a kayaker like me, this is better than a class-five rapid.

Bill

Friday noon, March 25

Bishkek staggers under the clean-up from last night's looting. In ways the city hasn't been before, the difference between the haves and the have-nots in this country is now painfully clear. I spent about 30 minutes walking around my neighborhood, in the heart of the city, and storefront after storefront is now shattered debris. City workers are out trying their best to clean up, but the looting still goes on.

You may have seen the CNN reports of the looting. A common picture is the Turkish Beta Store just a block away: a seven-story mall — food, clothing, housewares, furniture, electronics — completely gutted, every window shattered, smoke curling up from the fires inside. Two antiquated fire trucks are parked in back trying to damp down the flames. A workman tries feverishly to weld a pipe back together. The water sluices down the streets, carrying everything from candy wrappers to orange peels and used condoms. Looters continue in and out of the store. One man struggles away with two or three heavy wire racks and a barbecue grill ... who knows, maybe for the shashlik [shish kebab] at his daughter's wedding tomorrow. The ethnic Kyrgyz predominate among the looters, and you can see the fractured expressions of basically honest people denied everything for too long, and now finding it, if not in abundance, at least finding something. Two worn shoes sit neatly against a fire hydrant. Next to them a new Adidas box. Stores selling jeans are gutted. A woman sits in the doorway of her jeans shop, weeping, her little boy next to her, hand on her knee. He stares out, uncomprehending. There is anger among the more educated and literate here. All morning long there has been a heated political debate in the courtyard beneath my window. The women look terrified.

I am in contact with the embassy. There are no flights out, but contingency plans are in the works. Last night the Hyatt was under siege, and guests had to be bused across town to the Pinara, the other major hotel. Tonight will tell the tale, especially if the looting turns to the small shops which sell cigarettes and beer and sweets. I sense that shopkeepers are bracing for it. This is as close to hell as I have ever been, and it's all the more reason that I know I am exactly where I should be and that I must stay. We have to help. All my values mean everything here, or they mean nothing. I was able to buy water. Little things mean everything.

Bill

Saturday morning, March 26

Here’s how the political situation is shaking down. [Opposition leader Felix] Kulov is out of prison and running security. [Former foreign minister Roza] Otunbayeva is emerging as a sort of spokesperson. [Former prime minister Kurmanbek] Bakiyev is stepping in as temporary president and has been elected prime minister. [Ousted president Askar] Akayev sends e-mail threatening to return, but there is very little support for him now, if there ever was.

In more peaceful times, McRae took this photo of the Issy Kul Valley, near Karakol, a provincial city about 60 kilometers to the east of Bishkek. In the background is the cloud-capped Terskey Alatau, the mountainous range that separates Kyrgyzstan from China. "It is one of the most spectacularly beautiful vistas I have ever seen," he said. "I wish my camera could do it justice."

The irony of this situation is that it was all an accident. It started with a group of a few hundred who wanted to speak to Akayev on Thursday afternoon. Thugs hired by one of the recently elected deputies were pushed back into the police when the small group of demonstrators resisted. Suddenly everything flashed, and the show of force disappeared. The militia simply stood aside, and let the White House be taken. It literally happened in less than an hour. But all this CNN, BBC and others are reporting in detail.

Not so perceptive their people on the ground, though. CNN consistently misinterpreted the story about the parliament building, for example. The students had gone to the parliament, which is right next to the university, to see what was happening with the new parliament — actually the old parliament, which had not disbanded, since the recently elected parliament does not sit until May. (Those elections have been declared illegal by the supreme court, so new parliamentary elections will come soon. Or so is the report. You will know how well the country is stabilizing if plans suddenly emerge to delay or cancel those elections. If that happens, the whole situation might flash again.) There was no effort to seize the parliament. Aside from working up a power-sharing arrangement, the great task that the new government will have is to stabilize the south. Anti-government forces have held Osh and Jalalabad for nearly two weeks now, and the issues there aren't necessarily the same here. Bakiyev is from the south, however, so that may help with the ethnic differences. When CNN reported that Al Qaeda was lurking in the wings, nothing could be less true. This is not a religious revolution, though if stability doesn't return soon, the religious may become a matter to be concerned about. There is still considerable risk here, especially if the new government finds itself as much at odds with the south as did Akayev's regime. At that level, the next two or three weeks will be crucial. We can only hope.

The streets were calm last night on the whole. I think everyone wanted to take a deep breath. The CNN reporter here, again, got everything wrong. He reported going back to his hotel (no doubt the Hyatt) after eating out (where, I wonder — all the restaurants I know are closed), and observing "gangs" (his word) of young men roving the city. He didn't understand that these were vigilante groups, which, of course, is just as unsettling as looters. (At least report the story correctly!) Looting did take place yesterday, but in the outlying regions of the city where there is greater poverty. If the government can't stop it, I suspect that more and more people will take matters into their own hands, and there will be more "gangs" of young men. At least there are few guns held privately in the country. Steel bars and hammers are quite nasty enough in the hands of a mob. A cold rain and wind came in last night, and that cooled things.

There is no plan to take Americans out of country. If you have lived abroad, you know that the U.S. takes a very hands-off approach to situations like this. If evacuation is ordered, the embassy will help get me to the nearest safe country, probably Kazakstan. This is very unlikely to happen, though. I predict that in a week Bishkek will be back to something approximating normal life. But you will still see it in people's faces.

Yesterday afternoon I went to the little magazine (market) beneath my apartment to see what I could buy. It's interesting, by the way, living with a few hundred som (around $20), wondering when I will be able to change money. Like everyone, I was looking for some bread. Like everyone, I found none. The candy bins were being filled, though. Kyrgyz love sweets. And I was able to find a large jug of water. So this morning I can have coffee, made in the Turkish fashion, from the last of my fresh beans.

Bill

Sunday noon, March 27

Perhaps because the collapse of the government took less than an hour, the return to normal has been just as quick. Bakiyev, Otunbayeva, and Kulov are firmly in control now. Akayev sends threatening e-mails, but his fantasies of being a latter-day Manas [the nation’s mythical hero] are exactly that. There is simply no support for him at all, save for a ragtag band of a few hundred coming to Bishkek to plead his case. Putin calls the revolution "illegitimate," but says he has no objection to Akayev's coming to Russia. Nothing is more insipid than lukewarm Russian tea. Akayev is finished.

Ala Archa, a national park about 10 kilometers to the south of Bishkek.

In Ala Tau square yesterday, the two guards who stand Beefeater-stiff next to the "Statue of Liberty" continue their vigil.They stood there throughout the taking of the White House, I am told. It is a remarkable image, really, one of continuity and pride in what has been achieved. The country's symbols remained intact. The White House was not gutted, but today, the front door remains open. Now Ala Tau square sees groups of people listening to speakers decry the looting which has taken place; other groups wait to hear the latest word from the White House. The Kyrgyz are calling this the "Tulip Revolution." Yesterday, as I walked by the shuttered kiosks in the underground walkway at the intersection of Chui and Sovietskaya, two blocks from the White House, only the florist was open, selling yellow tulips. A middle-aged housewife walked by, on the way to Ala Tau, carrying her tulips, smiling broadly. On Kyrgyz TV, the news programs feature a backdrop of tulips.

Looting has stopped. The looting was more extensive near Sovietskaya — even Zum, the major department store, was looted, but it was not gutted. The businesses that seemed to suffer the most, like the Beta Store, the Eurasia market and cafe, the Narodny shops, the Dordoi Plaza and the Silk Way were all closely associated with the Akayev family. In the run-up to the revolution, I had heard more and more discontent expressed about his wife, who seemed to take her 10% from everything, ostensibly for her education programs; and about his sons, who were notorious for carousing around Bishkek — even, I have heard, for taking women forcibly from the night clubs. Casinos were attacked, probably more because Akayev reversed himself a few years ago and allowed them to open. Needless to say, this Islamic reaction may never go so far as to close the liquor kiosks, just one symbol of the problems this country still has to face up to. The word from the embassy is very encouraging.

Bakiyev is well respected as an economist. He has promised that shopkeepers will be able to recoup their losses through government help. One of my close Kyrgyz friends at the embassy knows him well; last summer he visited the U.S. on a State Department tour. There is a good chance I may be able to meet him soon. The police were back on the streets keeping order. The government has created a citizens' militia to keep order at night. It was interesting to watch the militia being formed in the courtyard beneath my apartment — there was a great sense of responsibility and pride among the essentially middle-aged men, Kyrgyz and Russian both, and no sense of retribution or anger.

It really is a quite remarkable thing to watch a government taken back by its citizens, the vast majority of whom feel enormous pride in their achievement, and a willingness to take on the responsibility of turning their country around. When you think about what has happened in this apparently out-of-the-way and insignificant country, you must step back in amazement. Imagine the past 14 years. The overnight withdrawal of the Soviet Union, wholesale economic dislocation (factories, schools, office buildings, even entire villages were simply abandoned), a constitutional government established (and one the Kyrgyz are intent on keeping, by the way — they believe deeply in democratic institutions), a near revolution in the south 10 years ago, and now the ouster of a discredited regime — when you think of all of that, and understand what it means not just for Central Asia, but the entire world, well, you must stand back in amazement. This was no effort of U.S. military madmen thinking they can tinker with the world through "shock and awe" from the comforts of their Pentagon offices; this was a democratic and free people acting to protect their civil liberties.

Yes, the situation here is still a dicey one, and there are enormous problems this country must face, but at the moment the pride is here again in these people. I am enormously privileged to be part of this. I am not being hyperbolic at all when I tell you that we can learn from this, but only if we have the courage to believe in our values and to trust those elsewhere in the world who want to live by them as well. What may have seemed an out-of-the-way and insignificant Central Asian backwater is now center stage. Imagine Lebanon going this way, or Palestine. Guns and bombs have seen their measure taken.

Bill

Tuesday morning, March 29

And so life returns to normal. Yesterday, the Osh Bazaar was open, a good thing since I am scraping the barrel now that the Beta Store is trashed. The money changers all opened their doors, with good capitalist energy, buying dollars at 39 som and selling dollars at 41.6, when the usual spread is around 0.2. The parliaments have resolved their differences. Akayev remains silent in Moscow. Putin clucks his tongue, but that is all, thank God. The universities are open. The trash from the riots is slowly being cleared away. Embassy parties are planned. Bread is in the markets. And the weather is glorious in the aftermath of a cold spring snow.

I still find it difficult to comprehend these past six remarkable days. I realize that being on the ground adds to the energy of the experience, but I must tell you that this country is rightly proud of itself. Think of it: an unpopular government sent packing in 50 minutes. While the looting was awful, and there were four deaths and hundreds injured, this was nothing like the Watts riots in 1965, for example. Yes, perhaps it is easier for a small country to get its act together, but if you watch the trajectory from Georgia to the Ukraine and now to Kyrgyzstan, the trend is obvious, and very hopeful.

Today is my first day back to teaching. I had planned to teach Emerson's "Self-Reliance." But today it seems somehow irrelevant.

Bill