“We film, but you come out looking bad” - these were the words we said to everyone who attacked our camera: police officers, polling-station members, government representatives.

Now we are paying the price for these recordings, and they are once again ranking poorly in the press freedom index - 167th out of 180 countries. Because in Azerbaijan, signs showing that filming is not allowed are no longer found only in metro stations. On every corner and in every alley, watchful police officers are waiting for a camera so they can take it from your hands and send you to prison. We filmed until they caught us, but they came out looking bad.

Why do they come out looking bad? We show you.

Corruption is now suffocating citizens to death in sewer lines. You pass responsibility from one to another, but no one serves the punishment. We film, but you come out looking bad.

You enrich yourselves with the country’s oil and send its filth into poor neighborhoods. Then you go far from those lands and talk about ecology, clean air, water, and green energy, posing for photos with European leaders - but you come out looking bad.

You talk about a social state, fair distribution of income, high welfare, and reducing poverty to 5 percent. The cameras turn to citizens’ refrigerators, and you come out looking bad.

You say “Karabakh is Azerbaijan!” and then divide it among a group of officials. You give large plots of land to your own companies and pack Karabakh residents into apartment blocks. No farming, no livestock, no jobs. They go into Bravo Market and ask for goods on credit and you come out looking bad.

After declining oil, you want to make money from gas. You demand gas payments from places left without gas, not only in remote areas but also in the capital. You say, “Save gas, I will sell it abroad,” and you come out looking bad.

Your police crush everyone protesting in the capital and the regions with police batons. You say, “Not a single police officer will be punished,” and “The police behaved with dignity in Söyüdlü,” but you think badly. An elderly woman hit in the face with tear gas wipes her eyes with her hand and you come out looking bad.

Workers employed on skyscrapers built by officials wear the shirts handed out to them for free in 2003. Workers who have not been able to buy themselves a shirt for 22 years turn their backs - “Forward with Ilham!” is written there, and you come out looking bad.

You get angry and ask where the "20 qəpik" (Twenty Azerbaijani cents) that parking workers collect from drivers goes. In every election, the declaration form where you are supposed to disclose your income appears blank, and you come out looking bad.

You talk about free elections, but on screen appear ballot stuffing, carousel voting operations, videos, and observers who do not even know where they came from; they look at the cards on their lapels and name your party and you come out looking bad.

You talk about state care for children. When your child was 11 years old, they owned million-dollar property in Dubai. In a country where you do not provide child benefits, you cannot make even little children believe the fairy tale of state care, and you come out looking bad.

You give interviews to journalists loaded with prepared questions. You speak passionately about democracy and press freedom. In the end, you pose for a commemorative photo, and it becomes clear that no one from the free press is there and you come out looking bad.

When Zardabi founded the newspaper "Əkinçi" 150 years ago, all he needed was money. He went door to door collecting money to publish a newspaper. But if he wanted to publish a newspaper today, he would need registration, a specified number of employees, and a specified number of daily news items in order to print it. Today you will talk about the National Press, about Zardabi, about "Əkinçi"; you will say, “The press is free in Azerbaijan.” The cameras will turn to Kürdəxanı (editor’s note: the Baku Pre-Trial Detention Center) and you will come out looking bad.

Authors: Ulvi Hasanli, Sevinj Vagifgizi, Elnara Gasimova, Nargiz Absalamova.