Imprisoned RFE/RL Journalist Farid Mehralizada Shares Reflections From Azerbaijani Prison On Second Anniversary Of Detention

Farid Mehralizada, an economist and journalist for RFE/RL’s Azerbaijani Service, has been unjustly detained in Azerbaijan since May 30, 2024.

He was sentenced to nine years in prison on charges of “illegal entrepreneurship, money laundering, tax evasion, and document forgery.” Human rights activists and journalism advocacy groups say the charges are trumped-up and due to Mehralizada’s work.

On the second anniversary of his imprisonment, Mehralizada reflects on life behind bars, the humanity of the prison economy, and the AI photo of him with the daughter he has barely seen.

1) What Is The Main Memory That Keeps You Going?

My daughter was born a few months after I was imprisoned. We have only been able to see each other during prison visits, but never for long enough. That is why we still don’t have a real photograph together. Some time ago, my friends created a photo of us together using artificial intelligence and gave it to me as a gift. When I held it, I felt the full weight of every precious memory I missed: first steps, birthdays, holidays at home. The photo looked so realistic that, at first glance, it was deeply moving. But however impressive it may be at first glance, technology cannot replace human touch. It cannot replace being there. Reuniting with my loved ones is my greatest motivation. The real version of that photograph is what I’m waiting for.

2) What Has Prison Taught You About Azerbaijan?

Prison gave me the opportunity to meet people with whom I would probably never have shared the same environment in ordinary life. Living for a long time with people from different social groups and with different ideological views allows you to see Azerbaijan from another perspective. There, you realize that there are actually many different visions of “Azerbaijan.” Every social group imagines its country differently. Another reality prison revealed to me is that religion occupies a stronger place in society than we often assume. In freedom, this influence is not always visible in daily political processes. But in a closed environment, it becomes much clearer that religion serves for people both as moral support and as a form of social relationship.

One of the positive things that surprised me was people’s eagerness to learn. Those who know foreign languages or are knowledgeable in certain fields are constantly approached by others trying to learn something. The number of people who read books is also much higher than I expected. Perhaps when a person is deprived of freedom, knowledge becomes one of the ways they protect themselves.

3) What Does Azerbaijani Journalism Look Like From Prison?

In reality, it doesn’t [look like anything]. Because there is no Internet access in Azerbaijani prisons. And in television and print media, it is very difficult to find anything that can truly be called journalism. But there is an interesting detail here. In prison, the majority of political prisoners — whether they are journalists, political activists, or opposition members — are generally referred to simply as “journalists.” In other words, in prison jargon, the word “journalist” has in some sense become synonymous with “political prisoner.” This is not accidental. It reflects how independent journalism in Azerbaijan has become an extremely dangerous field of activity.

4) What Does The Azerbaijani Economy Look Like From Prison?

Official statistics also show that one of the most common reasons for imprisonment in Azerbaijan is drug-related offenses. Article 234 of the Criminal Code is even known among prisoners as the “national article.”

When I was free, I thought the high number of drug-related crimes was mainly connected to widespread drug use. But in prison, you realize that there is also a serious economic dimension to the issue. Among those convicted on drug-related charges, there are many people who have never used drugs themselves. The main reasons pushing them into drug courier work and smuggling are unemployment and lack of income.

For this reason, I believe that creating real and functional employment programs, especially for people released from prisons, is extremely important. Otherwise, people return to the same environment and the same dead end.

In fact, viewed from prison, one of the first visible problems in Azerbaijan’s economy is the employment problem. It may sound paradoxical, but one of the most common social groups encountered in prisons is entrepreneurs. There are many businesspeople imprisoned over issues related to taxes, customs, and debts. This demonstrates how fragile and unstable the business environment in the country is.

Sometimes you see entrepreneurs who paid taxes to the state for more than 20 years being imprisoned over relatively small tax debts. But such imprisonment is not merely the loss of one person’s freedom. It also means the shutdown of that enterprise, the closure of jobs, and dozens of families losing their source of income.

One of the most discussed topics in prison is the one-time payment given upon release. According to current regulations, this amount is four times the minimum wage — currently around 1,600 manats ($941). Interestingly, even people who still have years left before release make plans about what they will do with that money. I have witnessed many prisoners say that they have never earned that much money at one time in their lives. This clearly demonstrates how deep income inequality is in Azerbaijan.

5) Which Economic Concept Has Gained A Different Meaning For You In Prison?

The first concept that comes to mind is poverty. In freedom, poverty for me was mainly related to income levels. But in prison, you realize that poverty is also the absence of choice. Because even if you have money here, you cannot buy what you want whenever you want. The prison shop works according to a schedule, and there are strict rules regarding deliveries from outside. Sometimes you are simply forced to wait. But in prison, you also see another side of the struggle against poverty. People here live collectively, and this forces them to share. If someone has no tea, another person shares theirs. If someone lacks clothing, another helps them. In prison, the main mechanism of social protection is not the state, but collective consciousness.Perhaps that is why people in prison understand more deeply how painful poverty truly is.

6) What Does It Feel Like To Think About Economics In Prison?

Thinking about economics in prison is completely different from thinking about economics in freedom. For many years, I tried to understand the country’s economy by looking at budget figures, oil revenues, inflation, the manat exchange rate, and various other economic indicators. But in prison, economics turns from statistics into human stories.

Of course, even here it is possible to draw conclusions from certain observations. For example, you can form an impression about the general situation from the number of people going to the cafeteria or from the increase in people asking others for cigarettes. But I think the main difference is that, in prison, money is no longer the most valuable thing. Sometimes an extra blanket on a winter day; sometimes receiving greetings from someone; or sometimes unexpectedly hearing a favorite song you have not listened to for a long time — these all feel more valuable than money.

I think prison has given me an education in economics that is no less valuable than a university degree. Because here, at the end of every theory, there is a human being. When you think about economics in prison, you begin to see not numbers, but people’s behavior, fears, hopes, and their daily struggle for survival.