Mongolia is not the first place one thinks of when pondering the fate of budding democracies around the world. Heck, how many people could locate Mongolia on a map? Now, though, the country may become known as a poster child for the risks of mixing democracy with vodka.
The charred shells of two Soviet-style buildings rising from the center of this capital stand as a warning of the dangers of mixing vodka with voter frustration.
In a barren land where nomads still gallop across pastures to polling booths, that potent mix led last week to the literal gutting of some of the country’s most prominent political and cultural institutions. Now, with an election in dispute, Mongolia’s fledgling democracy faces its biggest challenge since its birth in 1990.
Following cries of fraud in parliamentary elections — accusations that were disputed by international election observers — hundreds of rioters, many of them drunk, attacked the headquarters of the dominant political party and the neighboring national art gallery on July 1. Fires were started. Five people were killed. More than 1,000 pieces of artwork were destroyed, damaged or looted…
(J)ust as shocking as the violence was the government’s reaction — it declared a four-day state of emergency, sent soldiers into the streets and shut down television and radio stations. The outburst of violence was without precedent in democratic Mongolia, and many here — from sheepherders to business executives — are deeply ashamed of what unfolded.
For nearly two decades now, Mongolia has had one of the few true democracies in northern Asia, a fact which made this outburst of electoral violence there all the more unfortunate.
On the surface, Mongolia is an unlikely place for an experiment in democracy. It is the most sparsely populated country in the world. Half the population still lives in round felt tents called gers, and livestock outnumber humans eight to one.
Yet Mongolia’s literacy rate is 98 percent, a legacy of nearly seven decades of Communist rule. The country held a constitutional referendum in 1990 and a vote in 1992 that led to its first democratic change of Parliament. Since then, it had held peaceful elections every four years — until June 29…
As the country’s leaders grapple with how to resolve the election, everyone knows nothing less than the future of Mongolia is at stake.
“We made our democracy ourselves, we will defend it ourselves,” Oyungerel said. “I love democracy. I want to give this society to my children.”



