Israel’s tactics during the war in Gaza force us to ask whether humanitarian law has value in today’s “asymmetric” wars. It is a troubling and difficult question, the more so as the International Committee of the Red Cross is celebrating the 150^th anniversary of the first Geneva Convention, on the protection of wounded soldiers.

Israel has long argued that by seeking to protect non-combatants, the Geneva Conventions also make it possible for fighters to hide among civilians. Faced by this, goes the argument, state armies like the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) have no option but to bend the rules, even it means causing casualties among those who are not participating directly in the fight.

Israel has applied this doctrine with singular ferocity during the current war, bombing and shelling apartments, homes, mosques, power plants and even UN shelters. Hundreds of Palestinian women and children have been killed in the process.

This comes at a time when the very notion of humanitarianism is under siege. Recent months have seen starvation and chemical weapons used by the Syrian army, prisoners beheaded and executed by ISIS in Iraq, civilians blown up by the Taliban in Afghanistan, mass kidnapping by Boko Haram in Nigeria, and a Malaysian jetliner brought down in Ukraine. The protection of noncombatants in conflict has never seemed more difficult.

Yet it is, as always, a shock to see Israel acting with such force. Hamas, of course, has contributed to the carnage by placing rockets among Palestinian civilians, storing weapons in UN schools, and targeting Israelis without distinction. No one should underestimate the panic and insecurity this has caused in Israel. But one expects Hamas to exploit whatever advantages come its way. The weaker side in asymmetric wars rarely plays by the rules. As a party to the Geneva Conventions and a democratic state, Israel is held to a much higher standard.

*

The rules governing the protection of noncombatants in war (ius in bello) are laid out in the four Geneva Conventions that were developed between 1864 and 1949 and cover four separate categories: wounded soldiers; shipwrecked sailors; prisoners of war; and civilians. Two protocols were added during the 1970s, to expand the protection offered by the Conventions during international armed conflict (protocol 1) and internal armed conflicts (protocol 2). In the years since, tribunals and the International Criminal Court have provided teeth by prosecuting individuals for violations of the Conventions (war crimes).

Israel is not the only frustrated state party to argue that this body of law benefits militants and rebels. The argument was heard repeatedly during the drafting of Protocol 1, which categorized some wars of liberation as international armed conflicts. The Reagan Administration, for example, argued that this would provide POW status – and protection – to irregular fighters who do not wear uniforms or answer to a clear chain of command (the definition of a combatant in the third Convention). The same argument resurfaced after 9/11 during the controversy over detainees. In one of the so-called torture memos, Albert Gonzales, counsel to President Bush, famously described the Geneva Conventions as out of date and “quaint.” Although President Obama has reversed course on torture, the US has still to join the two protocols.

But Israel has come closest to turning the doubts into a doctrine. In a 2010 book, Moral Dilemmas of Modern War, Michael Gross, from the University of Haifa, argued that in asymmetric wars “many civilians look and act like combatants” and concluded that state armies are likely to lose these wars if they do not meet fire with fire.

The IDF has acted on the same assumption in three recent wars – South Lebanon (2006), Gaza in 2009, and again during the current conflict. Even though Israeli bombs and shells caused Palestinian deaths, Israel maintains that Hamas was responsible because Hamas operated from civilian areas – which Israel compared to taking “human shields.” After being heavily criticized for shelling UN schools where civilians had taken refuge, the IDF observed that UNRWA had discovered Hamas mortars in three empty UN schools. The clear implication was that any civilian building with any connection to Hamas was fair game, however remote and whatever its current function

*

One way to test Israel’s argument is through just war theory, which has provided the moral basis for much of the relevant international law and was invoked by President Obama after he received the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize. Self defense is certainly recognized as a just reason for taking up arms and is also permitted under article 51 of the UN Charter. The barrage of Hamas rocket attacks has been nothing if not “imminent.”

But the question for just war theorists is whether Israel’s pulverizing response has been “necessary.” This is hard to answer. Most of the rockets were intercepted by Iron Dome and appear to have caused very few casualties. Israel presumably could have sealed off the border and demolished the tunnels without attacking the civilian areas of Gaza. But the IDF’s real target has been Hamas fighters, and Israel would argue that they could not be eliminated without going into civilian areas. Whether the attacks that followed have been “necessary” from a military perspective is left to the IDF – and public opinion – to determine. This is hardly satisfactory.

Just war theory would also ask whether Israel’s response was “proportionate.” According to the Palestinian Ministry of Health, as of August 20, 2,016 Palestinians had died, including 541 children and 240 women. 67 Israelis had also died, of whom all but three were soldiers. The contrast is striking, but does not necessarily make the Israeli response “disproportionate.” For Article 57 of the First Additional Protocol, a proportional military action is one that is not “excessive in relation to the concrete and direct military advantage anticipated.”

The problem with this is that there is no objective way of deciding how many civilian deaths justify the killing of a militant. Occasionally, common sense will prevail, as in 2009 when German troops called in a NATO air strike in the Afghan province of Kunduz after the Taliban hijacked two petrol tankers. Over 100 civilians were burned to death. Shocked, the Germans paid out compensation to the families. But most arguments about proportionality end inconclusively, because the military will accept very high civilian casualties in their zeal to kill “terrorists” and “militants.” Over 300 Pakistani civilians were killed in a series of drone strikes, before a drone finally killed Baitullah Mehsud, a leader of the Pakistan Taliban in 2009. President Obama hailed Mehsud’s death as a major achievement in the war against terror.

Next, there is the question of who is a “civilian.” Article 51 of the First Additional Protocol states that anyone not taking a “direct part” in hostilities should be protected, but this has long been a source of debate. Some would say that anyone associated with an army is fair game, which would mean that even military chaplains and cooks are legitimate targets. Others would argue for a narrower approach in an effort to minimize the killing. The Goldstone report, commissioned after the 2009 war in Gaza, took Israel to task for killing 240 Palestinian policemen – one sixth of all Palestinian casualties. Goldstone described the Gaza police as a “civilian law enforcement agency.” But Israel responded that the police were paramilitary and supporting Hamas, and so deemed a legitimate target.

Between 2003 and 2008, the ICRC held a series of meetings to clarify this confusion. The final report concluded that “direct participation” in a conflict refers to a person’s engagement in “specific hostile acts” rather than “status, function, or affiliation.” Taken at face value, this would presumably extend protection to soldiers on leave and in mufti – or even a Hamas fighter who is unarmed and at home. The fact of being a woman or child is not relevant – a female suicide bomber, for example, is clearly a legitimate target. What matters is that someone is actively taking part in the fight. Most armies would find this extremely restrictive.

Fifth, there is the question of whether civilian infrastructure is a legitimate target. On July 29, Israeli air strikes destroyed Gaza’s only power plant, on the argument that it was supplying power to the Hamas military machine. In so doing, of course, Israel also deprived hard-pressed civilians of electricity and greatly complicated the task of reconstruction. Yet “dual use” facilities like power plants do pose a dilemma. NATO offered the same argument after destroying Kosovo’s telecommunications hub in the early stages of the aerial campaign against Serbia in 1999.

Finally, and most difficult, there is the question of intent. This bears directly on whether Israel’s actions constitute war crimes, and will no doubt be considered closely by the Schabas Commission, as it was by the Goldstone inquiry in 2009. Were the UN schools deliberately targeted by Israeli forces? If the answer is yes, Israel is guilty of war crimes. If no, the civilian deaths were collateral damage – regrettable, and even disproportionate, but not war crimes.

Under US law a felony murder occurs if someone is killed during an act of felony, even if the death is unintended. But international law shrinks from such moral clarity. In this, it can draw on another Christian doctrine, known as “double effect.” This doctrine was part of the rationale developed by Christian thinkers from Saint Augustine onwards to justify taking up arms. It says, in essence, that you can target an enemy even if civilians are likely to die in the process, as long as their deaths are not intended. Deaths can be predicted, but they must not be intended.

This has become a license to kill. Think Afghanistan, where NATO strikes have repeatedly bombed social gatherings in an attempt to kill Taliban. These attacks happened with such regularity and predictability that the resulting civilian deaths began to look – if not deliberate – then criminally negligent. But the doctrine of double effect asks for no such precision and allows the broadest possible interpretation of “intent.” As such it provides a handy excuse for virtually any civilian collateral damage – one of the major concerns about the use of drones in the “war against terror.”

NATO commanders have attempted to deal with the controversy over NATO attacks in Afghanistan pragmatically, rather than legally. Aware that civilian deaths were threatening the NATO mission and poisoning relations with the Afghan government, General Stanley McChrystal introduced new rules of engagement in 2009 that limited ground strikes to situations where NATO troops were directly threatened. These new rules elicited protests from group troops and were relaxed by McChrystal’s successor, David Petraeus the following year. The botched air strikes continued, casting a stain on NATO’s reputation and playing into the hands of the Taliban.

*

What conclusion can be drawn from this review? First that the rules for protecting civilians in today’s wars are dangerously, painfully ambiguous – and as such easily ignored by a determined fighting force. Enforcement is equally weak because it is left to individual governments, which rarely prosecute their own soldiers with any vigor. Internationally, the International Criminal Court has little to contribute because many key governments, including Israel, have not ratified. Reciprocity – the fear that one’s opponent might retaliate in kind – rarely applies in an asymmetric war, where the weaker side is fighting to the death and using brutality as a weapon of war. Prisoner exchanges might be the one exception.

Yet the fragility of humanitarian law also exposes the dilemma facing state armies like the IDF in an asymmetric war. Governments have much more to lose than Hamas or ISIS if the laws of war are completely discredited. This may be the most compelling argument for restraint, and it is on this that most would fault Israel. By exploiting every possible ambiguity in an effort to force Gaza into submission, Israel has exposed humanitarian law at a time when international protection has never looked more difficult.

This no doubt accounts for the furious response to Israel’s tactics from the mild-mannered UN Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon, who described the third Israeli school attack, on August 3, as a “moral outrage and a criminal attack.” It also accounted for the remarkable image of the UN spokesman in Gaza, Christopher Gunness, breaking down in tears. Mr Gunness might as well have been asking: “If Israel is not going to play by the rules, then who will?” Human rights advocates asked much the same question about the US following the Abu Ghraib scandal and the disclosure that the US has used torture against detainees.

Israel has also done a disservice to the laws of war by blaming Hamas for the civilian casualties caused by the IDF in Gaza. This calls into question the cardinal principle that individuals are responsible for their actions in war. Responsibility for the deaths in Gaza lies with the soldiers and pilots who dropped the bombs and those who gave the orders – not with Hamas. While Hamas has clearly operated among civilians, there is no evidence that Hamas has forced civilians into the line of fire, which is the definition of using human shields.

*

The question of whether Israel has crossed the line has been answered in different ways on both sides of the Atlantic. Apart from a rare rebuke from the Obama administration after the August 3^rd school shelling in Rafah, US commentators have been remarkably unconcerned. The pugnacious Thomas Friedman put it like this: “Hamas used Gaza’s civilians as war-crimes bait. And Israel did whatever was necessary to prove to Hamas, “You will not outcrazy us out of this region.” It was all ugly. This is not Scandinavia.” David Ignatius, writing in the Washington Post, took John Kerry to task for trying to halt the bloodshed at a time when the bombs were raining down. American politicians, including Michael Bloomberg and Andrew Cuomo, visited Israel to show solidarity.

Public opinion in Europe has been less forgiving. It is not just that Europeans understand the threat that Israeli tactics pose to humanitarian principles, but that Europe has little tolerance for Israel’s overall policy of occupation. Europeans view Israeli settlements as a major breach of article 49 of the 4^th Geneva Convention, which forbids an occupying power from transferring citizens onto the occupied land. Israel responds that the West Bank was not legitimately governed before 1967 and is thus not occupied – another sophistry that many feel weakens the Conventions. And while Europeans have no love for Hamas, they also feel that Israel’s uncompromising approach to Hamas is calculated to produce rage and preclude moderation.

*

This debate will now no doubt be played out in the worst possible context – a deeply polarizing UN inquiry into war crimes. The UN Human Rights Council has set up a commission on inquiry under the Canadian lawyer, William Schabas, and everything points to a replay of the 2009 Goldstone report. Critics of Israel in the UN will use the Schabas inquiry to demand a comprehensive indictment of Israel. Israel will denounce the inquiry as yet another example of UN double standards.

In fact, the inquiry should probably be seen as the exact reverse – a last-ditch attempt to defend international humanitarian law. If Israel is sincere in believing that the Geneva Conventions are in need of revision, it should make this case before the international community, and not force the issue unilaterally in Gaza. Instead of barring the Schabas commission, withholding cooperation, and excoriating Mr Schabas, Israel should seize the initiative, welcome the debate, and take whatever punches come its way. That way, something might be salvaged from the Gaza catastrophe. Other contemporary challenges in Syria, Iraq, Ukraine and Africa might just seem a little less daunting.

Some Israelis understand this. In a short but important recent commentary, the human rights group B’Tselem issued a withering denunciation of Israel’s tactics: “Hamas is not – and cannot be – responsible for the extreme damage that Israel caused civilians in Gaza. Holding Hamas responsible for Israel’s actions is tantamount to freeing Israel of any restrictions in its response, no matter how horrendous, to violations of the law by Hamas. This position is unjustifiable, either morally or legally: the responsibility for the harsh consequences of Israel’s policy in the last month lies with Israel’s government and top military commanders who authorized it, despite the foreseeable horrific results.”

The clear moral thinking of B’Tselem and other Israeli human rights organizations has been one of the few redeeming features of the never-ending conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. Let us hope that others can follow their lead in the weeks to come.

**

(Christian Science Monitor, December 10, 2008)

Washington – After eight years of neglect, President-elect Barack Obama is eager to have the United States re-engage with the United Nations. A good way to begin would be to join the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva.

President Bush snubbed the preeminent international human rights policymaking body when it was established in 2006, with disastrous results. A speedy reversal by Mr. Obama would give hope to moderate governments that yearn for a stronger UN human rights program. It would also invigorate the entire UN system, generate goodwill, and encourage others to help with tough policy challenges like Guantanamo Bay.

There is no time to be lost.

Dec. 10 is the 60th anniversary of the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights, but it will not be much of a celebration. The UN’s human rights program has been badly weakened by an ill-advised reform and by America’s absence from the Human Rights Council.

Until 2006, UN human rights policy was made by the Human Rights Commission, a body of 53 governments that included Sudan and Zimbabwe. Sudan’s membership, at the peak of the genocide in Darfur, caused outrage in Washington and prompted calls for reform. The commission was voted out of existence in 2005 and replaced by the council.

The problem is that no governments have clean hands when it comes to human rights, so basing election to the council on good behavior would have excluded most of the world’s powerful governments. That would not have been credible.

As a result, the new council was organized along the lines of the much-maligned commission, into five regions. The big difference was that Africa and Asia each received almost twice as many seats as the West in the horse-trading. This was a recipe for mischief, and the Bush administration made it worse by declining even to apply for membership.

In the three years since, hapless Western governments have been consistently outmaneuvered and outvoted on the council. They suffered a particularly serious reverse in March this year, when Islamic governments weakened a key UN inquiry into freedom of expression.

Even more damaging has been the steady erosion of independent “rapporteurs” who follow the record of individual governments. Their reports have long been the gold standard for international human rights monitoring, but such finger-pointing against individual governments could soon be a thing of the past.

The African bloc has insisted – successfully – that any country monitors be approved by the government under review, and the rapporteurs for Cuba, Belarus, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Liberia have all been retired. This means, incredibly, that the UN has no formal process for monitoring human rights in eastern Congo, which is in the throes of a deadly conflict. Many predict that the days may be numbered even for the UN’s rapporteur on Sudan, which triggered the whole reform in the first place.

In place of these country inquiries, the council has established a process that is both bureaucratic and toothless. Known as the “Universal Periodic Review,” it requires that all UN member governments submit to a three-hour review by the council every four years. This puts zero pressure on violators.

All of this represents a sweeping retreat from the 1990s, when 15 governments were subject to critical public appraisal by the UN. Country-specific inquiries may have unfairly penalized weak governments. But in this age of genocide, the pendulum has surely swung too far in the wrong direction.

Can the trend be reversed? Yes, but it will require vision. This should not be difficult. All governments understand that global challenges such as climate change and recession will put immense pressure on the weak and require a strong human rights response from the UN.

Such a vision will need a strategy. The US should start by courting moderate governments that feel obliged to vote with their regions but could probably be persuaded to support a less politicized approach. Many have greeted Obama’s election with relief, but to take advantage of their goodwill, his team must propose a practical agenda instead of lamenting the council’s shortcomings. This should start with a commitment to abide by international standards of behavior. There can be no more preaching human rights and practicing torture.

Second, the US should call for an overhaul of the Universal Periodic Review. It desperately needs independent oversight.

Finally, Obama and his nominee for UN Ambassador, Susan Rice, should appoint a delegate with a proven commitment to human rights. Such an agenda would require an investment in diplomatic capital. But it would also produce a huge return – for the US and for human rights.

• Iain Guest is an adjunct professor at the School of Foreign Service, Georgetown University, where he teaches human rights. He also directs the Advocacy Project, an NGO in Washington that supports community-based human rights groups.

The following eight blogs were written during and after a visit to Bangladesh between July 31 and August 4, 2008. My purpose was to spend some time with the Blind Education Rehabilitation Organization (BERDO) in Dhaka, a partner of The Advocacy Project. BERDO has developed an important and innovative model for lending small loans to disabled people, particularly the blind. AP has recruited two Peace Fellows to volunteer with BERDO. This year’s Fellow, Danita Topcagic, is a former Bosnian refugee. The blogs should be read in reverse order.

* The conversion rate used in these blogs is one dollar to 69 taka (the Bangladesh currency)

Strange Travels

We are coming to the end of our visit to southern Bangladesh, and I am thinking that visits like ours must be very strange for those on the receiving end: Outsiders arrive in big car, jump out carrying cameras, and rush around taking photos of ordinary stuff – dogs sleeping, women washing in rivers, piles of manure. Orders are barked, strange questions are asked. Crowd gathers, people push and organizers push back. Visitors leave. Dust settles, life resumes.

In our case, we’re asking villagers to disclose confidential information about their lives, on camera, in front of their neighbors. I wonder whether their stock rises after we leave, or whether they’re resented for having caused a public nuisance. Hopefully, the former.

From our side, the pressure increases to capture that fnal photo as the time for departure draws nearer. With fatigue come mistakes and impatience. Equipment becomes an obstacle course.

Roadside interview

I’m realizing how far I am from understanding what is really going on in these villages. We’re certainly coming up with good information, but there are some aspects of this visit that seem more suited to Comedy Central than a serious investigation.

Lasrul Islam, 18, who receive a loan of 9,000 taka from BERDO and a 2,000 taka grant from us, will have none of it. It’s bad enough that his shop is suddenly surrounded by dust and a crowd of onlookers. He draws the line at appearing on camera. Danita and I secretly applaud, and I wander off to film a man sewing.

Sabbir, the 20 year old rickshaw driver, is very happy to be filmed but sits ram-rod straight on his rickshaw with a serious expression on his face. We don’t want him posing, but it takes ages to get this across and encourage him to ride his rickshaw slowly past the camera. He’s still wary and my efforts at direction must look hilarious. The resulting video interview is also amateurish. But hopefully some of Sabbir’s trusting, reflective, character comes across.

The ride back to Barisal takes us through green paddy fields and more picturesque villages. But our attention is focused on the road. We quickly conclude that this road is made for people, not cars. This is where the washing is dried, the rice is laid out, and the dogs take a nap.

Our driver takes a different view: to him, everything must move for the car, and he sits on his horn during the entire journey. This almost produces a very nasty accident. We come around a bend, going much too fast, and almost collide with three schoolgirls who are crossing the road and looking the other way. The car slides to the left to avoid them, but one girl backs into the car and spins out into the middle of the road. Luckily she is unhurt. But we are shocked and the driver is sheepish.

The boat trip back to Dhaka produces one of the strangest episodes of the trip. Danita, Saidul, Maksuda and I are deep into our dahl and rice in one of the cabins when there is an almighty crash and the boat shudders to a halt. We pour out onto the deck and find that we have hit an oil tanker. Luckily it was prow to prow rather than amidships, but the crash has caused a huge gash and our ship drifts away towards the shore as if seriously damaged.

Danita Topcagic, AP Peace Fellow at BERDO this summer

Danita and I begin to calculate who will carry Saidul if the boat sinks and whether we can rescue our cameras. Besides us an elderly man is hopping up and down, and speaking on two mobiles. (He turns out to be the boat owner). The crew of the tanker unleash a stream of invective. Eventually our boat recovers, and limps off towards Dhaka. We return to our cabins, unnerved and tired.

Morning comes quickly and brings another downpour. We head up the channel towards Dhaka, pass mile after mile of rusting tankers and small skiffs that are battling the storm.

Today will be spent at the BERDO office in Dhaka, visiting the braille library and other facilities, and spending some time with Danita, our Peace Fellow. That will be the subject for a future blog.

As noted above, The Advocacy Project launched a modest appeal for BERDO’s beneficiaries at short notice, and raised $1,140. At the time this did not seem like much, given the scale of the disaster. But it meant a lot to those who generously contributed, and we have been curious to see how the money had been spent.

Here in Bangladesh, it seems like lot. BERDO divided the money up into 42 grants of 2,000 taka, which were handed out by Saidul Huq with some ceremony during one of his visits. This is equivalent to one-third of a small BERDO loan, and does not need to be repaid.

Sabbir receives his AP donation from Saidul Huq (photo Maksuda Huq)

This visit suggests that the grants have been well used, and that these beneficiaries clearly have a long-term perspective. (It’s common to read that the poor only think of the immediate future).

Take Dalim Begum and her brother Babul. Both are disabled. Dalim lost most of the use of both of her legs, and Babul has a serious speech impediment. Dalim received a loan from BERDO of 5,000 taka, which the family used to purchase a cow.

Once it starts producing milk, it will bring the family 100 taka a day which is a steady income. But the cow was young when they bought it 5 months ago, and has yet to start producing milk. Meanwhile, repayments started after only two weeks and the family has to pay back 125 taka a week. In addition, the cow has to be fed. This family dealt with this by using our grant to rent out a rickshaw, which they rent out again for 120 taka a day. This will cover them until their cow starts producing an income.

Lasrul Islam is someone else who has used our grant as an investment. He received a loan of 9,000 to set up a grocery shop on the main road. He used the AP money to buy food and stock the shop.

Sabbir, 20, also used our grant wisely. Two years ago, he came down with a severe fever and suffered partial paralysis in one of his arms and legs. Eight months ago, he secured a BERDO loan for 5,000 taka and bought a rickshaw. The rickshaw itself was in poor condition, so he used our grant to repair it. The repair cost 2,000 taka and he found the extra 500 taka on his own.

Sabbir (l) and his mother Rahima

Sabbir is still earning less than he should from his rickshaw (25 taka a day) and takes on occasional laboring jobs to help repay his BERDO loan. But his mother Rahima has five other sons and this helps to cushion the family. She keeps close watch on Sabbir.

Mothers like Rahima are emerging as critical to the success of these loans, as they did in Barisal. Beauty Begum was determined that her daughter Popi, 12, who has a speech impediment, would go to the local school like any other child. But this would require money, to cover the cost of food, books and clothes. Her husband died of cancer recently, and she has two other children to care for.

Beauty Begum applied for a BERDO loan, received 5,000 taka, and set a small shop which brings in 250 taka a day. She has kept up with the weekly repayments (135 taka) and has paid off 2,000 taka of the loan. Somehow, she is also able to find 60 taka a month to equip Popi for school. She watches with pride as Popi submits to her video interview.

Popi herself is a charmer. Judge for yourself. The video will be posted soon.

The BERDO staff comprises several field officers and assistant, one of whom is himself disabled. The big difference with the Barisal office is that this team includes a doctor – Rafiqul Islam. Rafiqul accompanies us on our next visit with the Kali group in Rayarhat village. His presence will result in some important insights.

Saidul and his wife Maksuda (in pink), Danita, with BERDO

This group has 20 members, 11 of whom are receiving loans. Only one of them, a 12 year-old girl, Popi – is disabled. But seven other people with disability have received loans and all are here to meet us.

Meeting the investors: Saidul (in yellow), Danita and myself

There is a much stronger sense of disability at this meeting. Perhaps it’s because people are sitting around the walls, instead of in a group on the floor as in Barisal. This makes it easier to single out individuals.

Perhaps it’s the presence of Ridoy (“Heart”), a 12 year-old boy with cerebral palsy who is quite a handful for his mother Rina. Eventually, she brings him up to sit with us at the table, until his father arrives to help him out. Rina has two other children, and after the meeting I watch her carrying Ridoy back cross the narrow bridge to the village.

Rina (l) and her daughter Purnima

Of the others present, Biti’s daughter Purnima, 5, has a severe hearing impediment. Purnima has not received a loan but has just joined the group with her mother. Hafiza and her daughter, Mukthar, are also new members. Hafiza saves 20 taka a week and sells ducks’ eggs in the market. If she gets a loan, she plans to buy more ducks of a sewing machine. He husband drives a bus and they have two other children.

The other mothers watch carefully as we have these discussions. When preparing for this visit, we were interested in whether villagers would treat disabled people as normal people. But here this seems the wrong question. Ridoy, Purnima and Mukthar are clearly accepted by the other villagers, but they are also living proof that disability can strike anyone, at any time. “We know that they can study and work with assistance,” says Salaheh, the group leader, but that is not really the issue. The issue is why people fall victim to these ailments, and whether others can be protected against the same fate. Can BERDO’s program help?

Rafiqul Islam, the BERDO doctor, explains why there appears to be so much disability in these villages. Many of them fell ill to “fever” which seems to be used generically to describe typhoid or influenza (of which there is plenty, particularly in the rainy season). There are many other factors – poor clothing, rapid changes of temperature, lousy sanitation and a lack of tube-wells to provide fresh water.

Rafiqul also blames poor nutrition, which results in a lack of vitamin C, and sheer ignorance. By a show of hands, it becomes clear that most of the women here consult local (traditional) doctors, who rarely diagnose medical problems correctly. Add to this a powerful amount of superstition.

But these women can hardly be blamed for their superstition. According to Rafiqul, doctors in the local hospital rarely leave the hospitals and charge 50 taka for each visit. There is only one government health center, on the main road. Patients pay 60 taka for medicine, which they buy from private shops.

These charges are beyond the means of many of these villagers. One is reminded, again, of Bangladesh’s overwhelming poverty: in a country of 3 million blind, there are said to be just 600 ophthamologists. Only 120 are practicing in rural areas.

But this would seem to present an opportunity for BERDO’s own experiment with micro-credit. These group meetings offer an opportunity to provide basic training in health and hygiene, and so make a small start towards preventing disability. BERDO is aware of this, but is not yet pushing aggressively in this direction.

Ridoy has cerebral palsy

Rafiqul, the doctor, goes out into the field for three days a week. He advises group members to eat vegetables, visit mainstream doctors, and be careful during maternity. In June alone, he dispensed 85 prescriptions. So far this year, he has sent about 6 women to hospital for treatment.

But this falls far short of a concerted program. Just as the groups in Barisal could be more active when it comes to working with husbands, so the groups here could do much to preach the message of nutrition and hygiene.

On its own, this would not be enough to prevent the catastrophic disease that overwhelmed those we have met on this trip, including even Saidul Huq himself. But it’s a start, and in this area of Banari Pari, BERDO’s groups would seem to be one of very few opportunities to provide consistent health education.

For this to happen, BERDO needs to invest in more training for the groups. It should also consider more alliances with other organizations which work on health. This could bring BERDO closer to achieving Saidul’s dream of using microcredit as a tool for development.

We start with Aslam, the group leader. We visit his house later in the day and find him propped up on a big wooden bed. His mother slowly fans him, as we crowd in.

Aslam’s story is a salutary example of how disability can strike capriciously and without warning (which explains why some villagers think it is a curse). He was making good money – 6,000 taka a month – as a bus supervisor. His family owned 12 cows and land. Then he got the fever, suffered a strike and lost the use of his legs.

It was a catastrophe for this small family. They sold the cows and land to pay for his treatment. Eventually Aslam emerged a crippled. His grandfather found a partially broken wheelchair.

Aslam applied to BERDO for a loan of 8,000 taka, which he used to open a small shop on the side of the path. It brings in about 100 taka a day, after his loan is repaid. This has to feed a family of five. The one big advantage is that he can manage the store from his wheelchair.

Aslam (l) with Saidul Huq

Aslam has the confidence that comes from having held down a responsible job before his accident. He also reads and writes. This brings him standing in the village and helped to get him elected as group leader. He says that attitudes towards him have changed since the group was formed. “They used to call me a lame man. Now they call me by my name.”

Aslan’s loan helps to keep him from the brink and from begging – the thought repels him – but he still faces overwhelming difficulties. He cannot grow vegetables because the river is so high. His wheelchair needs repair. Every time he leaves the house it requires immense effort and assistance from his family.

*

On the road back to Barisal, we stop off to meet several other beneficiaries from the BERDO program, which is clearly beginning to extend deep into the communities. These roadside encounters attract a huge crowd of onlookers, but this does not disturb Shafin Aldar, 35, who has opened a tailoring business. Shafin is working with one of the political parties, and seems to like the attention. This impromptu meeting actually competes with a rally that’s taking place down the road.

In the Spotlight: Shafin Aldar

Shafin has a deformed foot from childhood, and is one of the BERDO stars. He has received 9 loans, the latest for 9,000 taka. He has used the money to open a tailoring shop on the outskirts of Barisal which allows him to employ two workers and produce 5 pieces of cloth a day. During Ramadan he works around the clock. He also rents out two rickshaws. He estimates that his total daily income is 340 taka, which more than covers his weekly repayment (250 taka). BERDO uses him to promote the program, which is why he has qualified for so many loans.

More enterprising beneficiaries are waiting to meet us at the BERDO office in Barisal – and each one is a testament to hard work and perseverance. Rimon, 18, was bullied at school for using a stick (he is partially crippled). He and his mother borrowed 15,000 taka, and rebuilt their house. They now rent out three rooms at 750 taka a month. Honufa, who is blind, took out a loan of 8,000 taka to buy land where she and her mother produce rice for the family. They pay back the loan by working in a cigarette factory.

All of them attest to the wisdom of micro-credit and its core assumption – that the poor will invest money wisely. Disability, certainly, is no barrier, as long as the beneficiary has support and counsel. In this society, where families are close-knit and depend totally on each other, such support will usually be forthcoming.

Still, the image that stays with me from the day is that of Aslam’s tiny mother straining to carry her son down the steps of their house and into the wheelchair, where she slips and slides in the mud. And this is not yet the rainy season.

Helping the disabled requires effort – particularly in a society where everyone is under pressure.

We are visiting the Kadampul microcredit group, which has been in existence for four years. All of its members have crammed under a large thatch roof to meet us, along with most of the rest of the village. We are introduced to the group leader Aslam, 26, who lost the use of his legs after a stoke and is confined to a wheelchair.

This group has 28 members, of whom 7 are disabled. Four are receiving loans. Several others have received loans in the past and are keen to apply for new loans. Amin Khan, a student, would like to join. He uses crutches and has come from the next village, at some effort. He wants to fish.

Danita and I go around the group while we try to get a feel for the issue and gage everyone’s energy and staying power. Some are here because they were told to attend, and one little boy, Khairul, sits slack-jawed and completely overwhelmed. For some reason, he is here without a parent. Someone barks a question at him, and he stands up in confusion. His parents used a loan to buy a sheep, but he’s too young to have benefited directly. I ask our translator to be gentle, and quickly move on to someone else.

Several young women, all visibly impaired, are sitting next to their mothers, and are happy to join in the discussion. Shanu received a loan, and her mother used it to purchase a rickshaw. Silpi, who is mute, and Salehar her mother, bought four 4 cows with 3 loans. They rent the cows out to cultivators, and make between 800 and 1,500 taka a month. Now they want to open a shop.

BERDO investors: Shilpi (l) and her mother Salehar

Mukul (a young blind woman in shocking pink) and her mother are the acknowledged micro-credit stars: they borrowed 13,000 taka and used their loan to buy clothes. They then went door to door selling them and made a profit of 10,000 taka.

In each of these cases, the loans were given to a daughter-mother team, and a strong mother would seem to be the key to economic success.

Saidul Huq’s other goal – confidence-building – is also being met, to judge from the way these girls speak up in public, and by the pride in their mother’s eyes. There’s no question about them being accepted by the others – their disability is simply not a factor. A cynic might say that’s because they are the group’s meal-ticket to loans, but none of this seems forced or artificial. Disability is no longer in the shadows in this village.

Still, not everything about this group is sweetness and light. Esmutara, a young women with a blue sari, stands up to complain that her husband demanded the loan (15,000 taka for poultry) and expected to run the business. She dug in her heels and agreed on a division of labor under which her husband would run the chickens and she would manage accounts. Later we interview her on camera, standing next to her husband. She comes across as the stronger partner.

But there are some issues among the other members, and these quickly dominate the conversation. Diluara is unable to repay her loan because her husband took the money and then went off to Dhaka where he married a new wife. She will not qualify for another loan and looks very glum. “I wish I’d known then what I know now,” she says through translation. Taslema received a 15,000 taka loan which her husband immediately took control of. She’s now doing nothing and wants some more training from BERDO.

This has been an unexpected encounter. It has shown that the “disability” loans are all working well and in some cases – such as Mukul – have produced a serious profit. It’s the other loans – to women – that appear to more controversial, because they challenge the status quo between husbands and wives. Aslam, the group leader, says that such issues are not really discussed at group meetings – how could they be? – but that they might intervene with Diluara’s husband if he returns from his jaunt in Dhaka.

One conclusion seems clear: these groups should do far more to grapple with gender training and work more directly with husbands before loans are given.

It’s a short car-ride to the BERDO office, where the staff is waiting. The wood fire is soon blazing and filling the office with acrid smoke. Sweet milky tea is offered. Outside, the rain has stopped and the streets are suddenly full of people running down the streets and chanting slogans. Local elections are in full swing. They will shortly be electing a new mayor.

Barisal is one of three BERDO microcredit centers. The model works as follows. Responding to requests, BERDO will establish a group of between 20 and 25 individuals, who will then qualify for a loan. Throughout the country, BERDO currently gives out loans through 136 different groups. There are 59 groups in the Barisal region, with about 800 members. Around 550 people are currently receiving loans.

Observing our meeting

When the program started, in 1995, BERDO decided to lend only to disabled people. But it was only able to find two or three beneficiaries in each village, and almost no-one turned up for meetings. Based on this, it was decided to extend the program to poor women, regardless of any disability. In any one group, about a quarter of the beneficiaries are likely to be disabled. Children qualify, although their loan is managed by their parents or guardians.

The aim is to help disabled people invest in something that will bring them a regular income – a cow, a rickshaw, or a small shop. But in the process, says Saidul Huq, they should acquire confidence and turn away from begging.

As the program has expanded to poor women, its goals have become more ambitious. By encouraging these women to work alongside disabled people, BERDO hopes to make them more accepting of disability. Disabled people live in the shadows, says Saidul. Many are afraid even to leave their homes. “Society is ashamed of disabled people and feels they are cursed. But everyone knows someone with disability, or has some disability in their family.”

Neither of these two goals is easy, but a third aim seems positively utopian. BERDO hopes that its micro-credit program will serve as a tool for development. It’s hard to see how this could happen, in a country of such overwhelming needs.

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The money for loans comes from banks. BERDO borrows at 10% and lend at 12.5%, to cover the administrative costs. Last year BERDO disbursed 280,000 taka ($4,059) in Barisal.

Once a beneficiary is chosen, he or she signs a single piece of paper. But the terms are quite tough. Repayments begin with two weeks, unless the loan is for a longer-term agricultural loan, in which case it can be repaid at the end of the harvest. Joining a group is a precondition for receiving a loan, and the groups meet every week with a BERDO staffer in attendance. The groups select their own leader, who serves for a year.

BERDO offers four days of “motivational training” when a group is formed. Motivation means that beneficiaries are encouraged to invest wisely and save; mothers are encouraged to send a disabled child to school; husbands are encouraged to support their wives (who received the actual loan); teachers from the local school are encouraged to accept disabled children into school. Group leaders are also given leadership training.

It is now well established that women can make good use of micro-credit, but some of this is quite bold. I’m interested in how their husbands respond.

Measured by repayments alone, the program is a striking success. Ninety-nine per cent of the loans are repaid, and on time. The rate has fallen to below 90% in the areas affected by last year’s typhoon, and BERDO has postponed the collection for a year. But overall, it is working. And there is no difference at all between the disabled and others – at least in terms of repayments.

As a result, the program is attracting growing support. It has received a series of one-off grants to help cover costs, from the Rabbo Bank in Holland, Cordaid (the Dutch agency), OPEC in Austria, and the Danish embassy in Dhaka. The latest to come on board has been the World Bank, through a foundation, which has given 100,000 taka. If the Bank comes through with a second grant, it will enable BERDO to lend at a much lower interest rate.

All of this suggests that the first big question has been answered: disabled people can use micro-credit as effectively as the next. But what of the other members of the groups? Are they more accepting of disability? And can this program make inroads into some of the larger development challenges?

We hope to put these questions directly to some beneficiaries here in Barisal and in the neighboring district of Banari Para.

It takes an hour and 30 minutes to reach the port, and the journey is wearing enough just sitting in an air-conditioned car. Goodness knows what it’s like for the beggars, who press their faces to the window when the car lurches to a halt. No one offers them money. Many of the beggars are disabled, and one of BERDO’s goals is to wean its clients away from begging. Some beggars are said to make a small fortune. Right now, it seems like a very tough way to make a living.

People are everywhere as we cross the gangplank onto our boat – a huge passenger ship. The traders are more ferocious even than the beggars and refuse to take no for an answer. Small skiffs bob perilously in the wake of the boat, selling pineapples. I look down and find a shoe-shine boy applying wax to my sandals. Some-one takes him by the ear and gives him a kick, which makes me feel uncomfortable.

The cabins have two bunks, and around ten o’clock we settle down for a companionable dinner of chicken curry, rice and dhal. Saidul Huq tells his own story. As I look over my notes, there seem to be two distinct phases.

Phase one involved coming to terms with the catastrophe of losing his sight. He was six when he fell ill with a fever, and lost his sight. His mother thought he was going to die. He doesn’t remember much from the time when he could see except for the colors – particularly red, green, white, blue, green and yellow.

He came from a well-off family and entered Dhaka University, where he embarked on a career of activism. There were about four visually-impaired students at the time, and Saidul formed them into a group. They sought a meeting with the Vice-Chancellor and urged him to make it easier for blind students by providing a small subsidy of 500 Taka a month and braille books in the library. Today, the number of blind students at the university has risen to over 60 and a small number have gone on to take a PHD. Saidul himself graduated with honors and a masters degree. He then taught for seven years at a teacher’s training college for the visually impaired, and a college for the blind.

The second phase of his career began in July 1991, when he set up BERDO. A businessman friend gave him a loan and an office. (BERDO has since moved twice). Saidul received a huge boost when he was selected as an Ashoka fellow in 1994. (Ashoka is the organization that supports social entrepreneurs). This brought him a stipend of $400 a month for three years, which enabled him to invest in the organization. He remains deeply grateful to Ashoka, and impressed by its model.

He started to travel: to Japan, Belgium, Germany, Holland and the United Kingdom, learning how richer societies support the blind. In 2001 he won a McNamara fellowship from the World Bank worth $7,500. This gave him a chance to reflect on the problems facing the blind in Bangladesh. He wrote a paper for the Bank, and was able to lobby the Bank to include disability when it opened an office in Bangladesh.

Saidul’s first goal as an advocate is to pressure the government to provide more support – for the disabled and for civil society. Bangladesh passed a law on disability in 2001, but it has still to be implemented. Saidul would also like to see donors working directly with NGOs, instead of channeling everything through the government. Every donor should have a disability fund.

As we head south, everything seems to be pointing towards phase three of Saidul’s career, which centers around the villages. There are three million blind people in Bangladesh. Saidul Huq has made it his life’s work to improve their lives.

BERDO has a head office in Dkaha, the capital, and three sub-offices in the districts of Tongi, Barisal and Banara Pari. It is quite small by Bangladesh standards and one of many NGOs working on disability. But in one respect, BERDO is unique: it is using micro-credit to empower the blind.

Bangladesh is the home of micro-credit, and Mohamed Younus’s work with the Grameen Bank won him this year’s Nobel peace prize. But BERDO is taking the idea a step further by making loans to the disabled. This raises many questions, including most obviously whether disabled people can make good use of a loan and repay on time. Caitlin Burnett, who served with BERDO as an AP Peace Fellow last year, visited some of the beneficiaries last year, and alerted us to the program with her blogs. I’m here this year to follow up, accompanied by this year’s Peace Fellow, Danita Topcagic.

I have an additional interest in visiting. Last December, a typhoon struck the southern region of Bangladesh with devastating force. Many of BERDO’s beneficiaries were affected. The Advocacy Project raised a modest $1,140 for them in a Christmas appeal. I am curious to know how the money was used, and report back to our donors.

I want to hear directly from these families – about what it means to be disabled in one of the world’s poorest countries, and whether microcredit can help. I’m also realistic about what can be achieved in a short visit. The last time I spent any time in Bangladesh, I stayed in a village near Jessore for several weeks and only scratched the surface. It will be hard to get more than a superficial impression in a few days.

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Arriving at Dhaka airport, I am met by Saidul Haq, who has borrowed his brother’s car and driver. Saidul is in his early forties and is very slight. Instead of shaking my hand, he takes hold of my arm and explores it for several seconds. He does not carry a cane.

Advocate for the blind: Saidul Huq (l)

I’m trying to imagine what it must be like to be blind in the world’s most populous nation. Eyesight is our first line of defense, and there seem to be a million hazards awaiting anyone who ventures onto the streets of Dhaka. As the car pulls out, it is engulfed in a tide of buses, taxis, rickshaws, beggars, jaywalkers, and street vendors. The tide moves forward in a mass – stuck in slow gear one moment, faster the next.

There is plenty of danger here, and Saidul explains that he never uses a cane because he is likely to be hit by a rickshaw or fall into an open manhole. His defenses lie in an acute sense of sound, a phenomenal memory, touch – and people. There is always someone at his side to hold his wrist and guide him, and they are invariably gentle.

The best way to describe Saidul’s situation is that he relies on others but is always in control. He bumps into things all the time, but laughs it off. “I am a very happy person!” he exclaims. Still, being blind in Bangladesh cannot be easy. Rising above it and achieving something out of the ordinary? Well, that seems almost insuperable.

At the BERDO office, I meet Danita Topcagic, this year’s AP Fellow. Danita is from Bosnia and lived in Velika Kladusa, in northwest Bosnia, until fighting in 1995 forced the family to flee to Croatia and then the United States. She’s chosen to live full-time at the BERDO office during her fellowship. Her room is hot and dusty.

We leave for Saidul’s apartment and a snack of mangos, jackfruit, and sweet milky tea prepared by Saidul’s wife Maksuda. Saidul’s eldest daughter sees us off, before she herself heads off to work with her tutor. (As driven as her father, she also attends special class after school).

Then it’s out again into the sea of traffic for the port, where we will catch a boat to Barisal in the south.