18 Stabs at Democracy
The brutal slaying of a prominent Mongolian politician leaves the country anxious about its future
By LEAH KOHLENBERG Ulan Bator
This wasn't supposed to happen in Mongolia. The vast country's transition from communism to democracy has been one of the smoothest anywhere. Free elections have attracted a lively voter turnout, with herders sometimes riding for hours on horseback to cast their vote. So it was stunning when, on Oct. 2, two assailants armed with a knife and an axe forced their way into the Ulan Bator apartment of Sanjaasurengiin Zorig, one of new Mongolia's democratic heroes. They tied up his wife, dragged her into the bathroom, and when the bookish, 36-year-old government minister returned from work, they stabbed him 18 times and left him to die. Concludes Enkhbataar Damdinsurengyin, a fellow democracy activist and a parliamentarian: "This is a political crime."
If it was an assassination, no one has claimed responsibility. And in the suddenly tense political climate of Ulan Bator, the capital, few dare even to speculate openly about who Zorig's killers might have been. As news of the attack trickles out across the steppes, Mongolia's 2.5 million citizens are struggling to come to grips with a baffling whodunnit. According to police reports, Zorig's wife, Bulgan, heard the killers mention Erdenet, a copper mine 400 km northwest of Ulan Bator that is mired in corruption allegations and has been the focus of recent political debates. "If I were Agatha Christie, maybe I could point to many different people who might benefit from killing Zorig," says Ganbold Davaaddorjiin, another democrat. "We don't know enough now to make any final conclusions."
The timing of the assault has raised eyebrows. Just days earlier, the former university professor had been unofficially tapped by his party to run for Prime Minister, a position that has been vacated twice by resignations in the past six months. That would have made Zorig the fifth person put forward by his party for the post since July. Four earlier candidates were rejected by a parliament hobbled by infighting between the weak and disunified Democratic majority and the minority Mongolian People's Revolutionary Party (MPRP) made up primarily of former communists, including President Bagabandi Natsagyin. Although he had been a central figure in the 1990 movement that helped topple communist rule and pave the way for free elections, Zorig, the infrastructure minister, was generally considered a good compromise candidate. "He was influential in conducting the democratic revolution in a peaceful way," says Enkhbataar. After Zorig's death, thousands of Mongolians, many clutching lighted candles or sticks of incense, gathered outside the parliament building for several nights of candlelight vigils and to pay last respects to his body. At Zorig's party's headquarters, people packed the halls to post hundreds of farewell messages and to stand before a Buddhist shrine set up in his honor. "It's a great loss for the Mongolian people," says Mongoljav Choimchig, a 62-year-old pensioner, shaking his head sadly during a memorial service last week. "These are very difficult days."
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