From Beyond The Margins...

Reporting From the Inside: Interview with Ali Mustafa

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Thu, 31 Oct 2013 13:47:00 +0000

Upping the Anti

By Stefan Christoff

Today, Syria is on the verge of collapse. What began as a grassroots protest movement, inspired by revolutionary action in Tunisia, Egypt, and elsewhere in the Middle East, is now a bloody civil war. As media headlines focus on the armed aspects of the battle against the dictatorship of Bashar al-Assad, there is a sustained popular resistance being waged in Syria that is not being fully reported.

Independent journalist Ali Mustafa traveled to Syria earlier this year to witness the war and provide a firsthand perspective on what is happening on the ground. Stefan Christoff interviewed Ali Mustafa in July 2013 about his two-month trip and his views on the potential for solidarity between Syrians and radical activists in North America.

Can you first introduce yourself and outline the goals for your recent trip to Syria?

I’m a Toronto-based freelance journalist who has been covering events in the Middle East for some years now. I traveled to Syria in March of 2013 for two months, returning to Canada in May.

I originally went to Syria as a natural extension of my previous work in the region, having already traveled to Israel/Palestine in 2011, then to Egypt later that same year. After following the war in Syria very closely for the past two years, I felt it was important to go there to cover the war firsthand.

I could not ignore this ongoing human tragedy. As the head of the UN refugee agency stated, Syria is one of the worst humanitarian crises to take place in the post World War II era. To date, approximately 100,000 people have been killed, nearly two million have been forced to flee as refugees, and another four to five million have been internally displaced. These numbers continue to grow daily.

Beyond the statistics, I felt that Western mainstream media coverage of Syria leaves a lot to be desired. It’s important for journalists coming from a critical perspective to be in places like Syria to report in a more nuanced, informed, and contextualized way. The only way I could truly get a sense of the reality on the ground was to go there to figure it out for myself.

In a way, I’m also fascinated by war – not in the gory sense but in the way it impacts us as human beings. What does it take away? What does it leave behind? Most importantly, what does it transform us into? These are the kinds of questions that interest me more than anything else as a journalist.

What are some of the points of the major media coverage on the war in Syria that you feel are inaccurate and should be looked at critically?

I think the first rule of the Western mainstream media has been to frame what is happening in Syria in overly simplified sectarian terms, portraying it as a war between Syrian president Bashar al Assad’s Alawite sect on one hand, and radical Sunni rebels on the other.

Although sectarianism is definitely one of the key factors at play in Syria and should not be overlooked, it’s also a problematic way of trying to understand the reality on the ground for two basic reasons. First, the origins of the conflict – the real, deep-rooted grievances against the Assad regime that led Syrians to revolt in the first place – are completely ignored in this narrative. Second, it mistakes the effect for the cause, reducing the complexity of the conflict to its simplest, lowest common denominator. As a result, the war in Syria is framed as something primordial, ahistorical, and perpetual – it is without end because it has always existed.

Of course, this is not true. In reality, the sectarian dimension of the war in Syria emerged much later. During times of civil strife, religious fault lines typically come to the fore. People will often times retreat into religious, ethnic, and cultural identities when a country’s social fabric suddenly unravels. In the case of Syria, several horrific massacres by Alawite militias loyal to President Assad against predominantly Sunni villages in places like Houla have caused lingering tensions to rise to the surface, helping create a sort of “us” versus “them” mindset. Revenge killings by either side have only added to the cycle of violence.

International players like Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Turkey (which are predominantly Sunni) and Iran (which is Shia) have exacerbated the problem by reinforcing internal divisions, further entrenching the conflict along sectarian lines for their own gain.

Foreign fighters from Iraq, Jordan, Libya, and elsewhere in the region have also done Syria no favors in this regard; they don’t see what is happening in Syria as a fight against dictatorship but rather as a battleground for competing visions of Islam, whether Sunni or Shia.

As a result, most of the sectarianism you find right now in Syria is being driven by forces outside of the country. Most Syrians I talked to during my trip, with a few exceptions, completely reject sectarianism against Alawites, Christians, or Kurds. In fact, many individuals from these minority groups are currently fighting alongside the Syrian rebels against the Assad regime.

The Syrian protest movement that began in Homs, Daraa, and other places really began to take shape in 2012. The civil resistance included street protests, creative actions, and art. Why is it useful to remember the origins of the revolution in Syria today as emerging from a protest movement, as opposed to an armed struggle?

The Syrian revolution first began when a few youth in Daraa, in southern Syria, spray-painted some anti-government graffiti on the walls of a building. They were arrested, beaten, and badly tortured. This sparked major protests in Daraa and that spread across the country. The protests were brutally crushed by the regime, which dispatched armed thugs known as shabiha to arrest, beat, and kill many protesters.

The Syrian revolution began very much in the same spirit as the uprisings against dictatorship in Egypt, Tunisia, and elsewhere in the region as part of the so-called Arab Spring. Yet the level of regime brutality in Syria was, and continues to be, without parallel. It is important to remember that the first six or seven months of the uprising was peaceful. The movement used tactics like mass protests, sit-ins, and other types of creative actions. At that stage, the protests were not even calling for the overthrow of the regime but basic political reform, like fair elections, freedom of speech, and other rights taken for granted here in the West.

It was the Assad regime that decided to militarize the uprising, turning it into a bloody war. The Assad regime forced the crisis to a point of no return. Once the level of brutality escalated, many ordinary civilians felt that they were forced to take up arms in defense.

I feel this is exactly what the Assad regime wanted all along: they would much rather deal with so-called terrorists on the battlefield than mass protests in the street. This kind of strategy is important for the Assad regime, not only internally but for international optics as well. It has allowed Assad to frame his brutal crackdown on the revolution as some sort of fight against terrorism, adopting the exact same language as the West’s so-called war on terror; the rationale is strikingly similar, actually.

Who exactly are the Syrian rebels?

The most important point to understand about the Syrian rebels is that they are far from a homogenous or monolithic group – there are many internal tensions, divisions, and contradictions that have to be highlighted.

The Free Syrian Army (FSA) doesn’t actually exist as a united military force; it’s more of a loose umbrella term used to describe a variety of rebel factions – some moderate, others radical – who have together taken up arms against the Assad regime. Alongside military defectors from the regular army, the FSA is mainly comprised of ordinary civilians who, before the war, had no kind of previous fighting experience.

Alongside the FSA, many radical jihadi groups like Jabhat al Nusra have also surfaced in Syria. Jabhat al Nusra includes both Syrians and a growing number of foreign fighters. Their goal is to establish an Islamic state based on Sharia law not only in Syria but across the Middle East. As a result, their agenda is far broader in scope than most of the other rebel factions who simply want to topple the Assad regime.

The problem is that Jabhat al Nusra is undeniably the most disciplined, organized, and resourced rebel force on the ground right now. They have managed to take advantage of the large security vacuum found in many parts of northern Syria, offering religion as an anchor of stability and order amid increasing lawlessness. That is how groups like Jabhat al Nusra operate: they thrive in places where state control is weak and civil society is fractured and vulnerable.

Although they enjoy some degree of popular support, it’s difficult to gauge exactly how much of it is genuine and not merely a byproduct of the war. In reality, Syria has always been a religiously moderate country relative to most of its neighbours. Support for groups like Jabhat al Nusra simply didn’t exist there before the war. That’s why the current objective conditions on the ground are important to understand.

When, for example, I asked people in Aleppo why they support Jabhat al Nusra, they generally gave me the same three answers. First, Jabhat al Nusra has very strong fighters, not afraid of directly taking on regime forces in combat. Second, they do not loot or steal, unlike many FSA brigades who have taken advantage of the chaos of war for their own profit. Third, and most importantly, they carry out a lot of relief work in the liberated areas of northern Syria, providing gas, water, food boxes, and many other key services that have long been abandoned by the state.

The relationship between the FSA and Jabhat al Nusra has become increasingly tense in the past year, sometimes leading to direct clashes over territory, resources, and power. Many FSA fighters I spoke to directly told me that they don’t like Jabhat al Nusra, but right now they need them in the fight against the Assad regime. After Assad falls, they told me, they will take on Jabhat al Nusra. In fact, some clashes with Jabhat al Nusra have already started, threatening another war within the war.

In the meantime, Jabhat al Nusra and other related groups have been responsible for a growing number of very serious human rights violations in the liberated areas they control, including arbitrary arrests, torture, and summary executions of civilians for very minor offences. Any kind of trust that Jabhat al Nusra once enjoyed in those places is now quickly eroding in the face of this kind of brutality. Like the Assad regime, Jabhat al Nusra is relying on brute force to impose its own agenda in Syria.

But Jabhat al Nusra isn’t even the biggest threat right now. There is another more dangerous radical jihadi group known as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIS). They’re directly linked to Al Qaeda.

Ordinary Syrians are now finding themselves caught dangerously in the middle, squeezed between the Assad regime on one hand and rogue rebel groups with their own agendas on the other. Yet it’s important to keep in mind that what certain rebels or rebel factions do doesn’t necessarily reflect on the FSA as a whole. Because the Syrian rebels are so fragmented, divided, and disorganized, any crimes carried out by the rebel side – and there have been many – cannot be generalized in the same way as those committed by the Assad regime.

There was a great deal of disagreement early on in the conflict about whether or not rebels should take up arms. Where does this debate stand currently?

There is some tension that hasn’t been fully resolved, but in a way it has been decided by default by the relentless, indiscriminate, and brutal military onslaught of the Assad regime.

Whether or not taking up arms was the right thing to do is really the wrong question to ask. The Assad regime’s brutality never left any room for debate. Once the military defections began to rapidly rise in early 2012, there was no going back. Too much blood had been shed by then.

Yet, despite the brutal military onslaught, there still exists up to today a very vibrant, dynamic, and non-violent protest movement on the ground. Protests and other types of direct actions still take place every Friday in the liberated areas of northern Syria like Aleppo where I visited. Anywhere between five hundred to a couple thousand people gather at these protests, risking their lives every single time they take to the streets. This is a side of the Syrian revolution that we don’t hear a lot about.

The militarization of the uprising has caused some key problems in this regard. First, it has overshadowed the protest movement on the ground. Second, it has neutralized the capacity to build any momentum by redirecting energy towards basic survival. Third, it has broken up civil society. People have fled the country, been internally displaced, or are left struggling to cope with the fallout of the war as best they can.

As Indian author Arundhati Roy has described, protests are a kind of theatre: they need an audience in order to have a real impact. The type of mass protests that captured the imagination of the world in Egypt’s Tahrir Square, Taksim Square in Turkey, or public squares across Brazil relied on the power of the spectacle to apply pressure on the state. Obviously, it’s very difficult to stage mass protests of this kind when bombs are dropping from the sky, people are getting killed en masse, and the country is being destroyed. Any ability to build a viable protest movement is extremely limited.

In Syria, the war has totally isolated the protest movement. The objective conditions for protests to play this kind of a role in Syria right now simply don’t exist. As I said earlier, this is exactly what Assad wanted. War is simply easier to manage, even if it means destroying the country in the process.

Also, it is important to remember that these protests are taking place in parts of the country where the government has already ceded most control or been driven out by rebel forces. The protests are operating in an entirely different kind of political space. This has posed another dilemma for revolutionaries on the ground: what good are mass protests, strikes, and other types of civil disobedience in the absence of the state? With all the fighting, lawlessness, and insecurity of war in the liberated areas, the space to build viable parallel state structures is completely lacking right now. The process is slowly starting but it will take time. The war is a major obstacle.

Can you talk about the current situation in relation to various global and regional political forces in Syria?

There are many intersecting power struggles taking place right now in Syria: you have the Cold War tension between the US and Russia; the regional rivalry between Saudi Arabia and Iran; and the alliance between the Assad regime, Iran, and Hezbollah on one hand and US-backed Israel on the other.The result is something of a mix between a non-violent popular revolution, internal civil war, and proxy power struggle all taking place simultaneously.

I think this is where many people who look at Syrian events as some sort of a Western imperialist plot get it wrong. The idea of a unipolar global order anchored by US hegemony in the classic sense – without serious tensions, constraints, or limitations – simply no longer holds as a way of explaining 21st century geopolitics. The reality is a lot more complex.

What is happening right now in Syria is best understood as a kind of intra-elite or intra-imperial rivalry, in which many competing global players are trying to influence the outcome of the war in one direction or another in relation to their own overall interests. For example, Qatar and Saudi Arabia are both involved in funding, arming, and supporting the Syrian rebels. On the surface, they would appear to be on the same side in this war. Yet in reality, they have totally different agendas in Syria. For example, Qatar is very close to the Muslim Brotherhood and would like them to take power in any kind of post-Assad government. On the other hand, Saudi Arabia has always feared the Muslim Brotherhood: they view them as a threat to the ruling regional monarchies, so most of the arms they are supplying go to groups like Jabhat al Nusra instead.

Saudi Arabia and Qatar have been openly competing with one another for the past two years over influence in Syria. They may be on the same side in the fight against the Assad regime, but they are sending arms in opposite directions. All of this is creating a lot of confusion on the ground, fueling competition between various rebel factions, and sowing more division at a time when exactly the opposite is needed.

The US only decided to start providing arms to the Syrian rebels once they realized that they couldn’t rely on their regional allies, like Saudi Arabia and Qatar, to carry out their interests. The US/Saudi/Qatari imperialist axis is really nothing more than a conspiracy theory – in reality, they can’t even agree amongst themselves who should get arms, let alone how to manage the war. All the parties involved are too busy trying to out-maneuver one another to orchestrate some kind of a master plan for Syria.

Far from taking the lead, as many people tend to believe, the US is just one of many rival powers vying for influence in the war. The problem is that sending more arms into Syria is not going to help. By itself, it won’t tip the military balance of power in favour of the Syrian rebels. The Assad regime’s key allies, Russia and Iran, will simply respond in kind. The result will just be more arms flooding into the country, more bloodshed, and more chaos on the ground.

As for Russia and Iran, they are backing the Assad regime for similar reasons. Both countries have strong political, economic, and military ties with the Assad regime. The fall of Assad would be a major blow to their respective interests in the region.

In terms of Hezbollah, their decision to enter the war should be understood in the same way. State and non-state actors are no different: they each act in accordance to their own perceived interests. Hezbollah is trying to protect the supply of arms, funds, and other kinds of support they receive via the Assad regime, mostly from Iran. Their survival pretty much depends on it.

The problem is that Hezbollah’s entry into the war has only further inflamed Sunni/Shia tensions in Syria. In fact, the war now risks spilling over into neighbouring Lebanon, where the sectarian fault lines are very similar. Because of groups like Hezbollah, the war is now being driven by sectarian identity politics rather than the fight against dictatorship. The only beneficiary of this scenario is, of course, Assad.

Lastly, there has been a lot of speculation on Israel’s role in the war; are they with the Assad regime or the Syrian rebels? I think it’s clear that neither option is particularly appealing to Israel but, as one Israeli official put it when referring to Assad, “better the devil we know than the demons we can only imagine.” Of course they don’t like Assad, but the prospect of groups like Jabhat al Nusra taking power in Syria poses far more of a security threat.

If you look at the record, not the rhetoric, the Assad regime has basically normalized relations with Israel. In the past 40 years, they have done absolutely nothing to try to regain the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights. They have also kept Palestinians in Syria under very tight control, effectively playing the role of Israel’s border guard. The obvious question is why would Israel want to see that change?

The Conservative government in Canada has been critical of the Syrian regime but also vocal against the Islamic factions among the rebels. Any reflections on the Canadian government’s reaction to the war in Syria?

The Conservative government is approaching Syria from more or less the same position as the US, although with a lot less influence on the outcome. The Canadian government is definitely opposed to the Assad regime and would prefer to see it gone. At the same time, it is also very skeptical of the Syrian rebels, especially as the conflict has dragged on and groups like Jabhat al-Nusra have grown more prominent.

Canada has been very vocal about these kinds of fears. Canadian Foreign Minister John Baird has used very strongly worded language about the “terrorist elements” within the FSA, without fully understanding the nature of the Syrian rebel opposition and its many complexities, nuances, and internal contradictions. All of this has left Canada in a bit of a bind – there are just no military options available that don’t risk backfiring later on.

Yet, the challenges posed by the war aren’t only military but humanitarian as well. In reality, this is where Canada can take a leading role on the ground; they can do a lot more to confront the growing humanitarian crisis in Syria by providing more funds to international NGOs working inside the country, shipping more direct aid to Syrian refugees living in neighbouring countries, and increasing the number of refugees and asylum seekers being accepted into Canada. Of course, under the current Conservative government, it is unlikely any of this is going to happen.

Can you describe the popular protests that you saw in Aleppo and day to day life in the city?

It’s important to understand that most of the city is completely in ruins. The scale of destruction is totally unimaginable, caused largely by government shelling. In the liberated areas, the government has cut off all services: there is no electricity, very little water, few jobs, and the economy is at a standstill. What is taking place there can only be accurately described as a form of collective punishment against a largely defenseless civilian population.

We so often see images of the violence, death, and destruction in Syria today, but it is important to remember that despite this reality, in the areas away from the frontlines, people still try as best they can to live a normal life. People still walk the streets, vendors still sell goods, kids still go outside to play. People are just trying to find some semblance of normality amid all of the chaos. The resilience of the Syrian people really amazed me.

I found the atmosphere of the protests to be very festive, cheerful, even celebratory. People were singing, dancing dabke, and waving the Syrian revolutionary flag. I remember going to my first protest in the neighbourhood of Bustan Qasr and asking myself, “Why are they bothering to protest in a place like this, where the government doesn’t even have any control?” I quickly realized they are not doing it for the sake of the Assad regime but rather, for themselves. The protests are a way of keeping up morale, showing a face of unity to the world that is constantly portraying them as divided, and most importantly, I think, trying to make the point that it isn’t only the guns doing the talking – the people still have a voice.

Against all the odds, many people in Syria are still fighting for the original demands of the revolution: freedom, dignity, and social justice. At many of the protests people hold up signs, posters, and banners - many of them in English. The village of Kafr Nabl in the Idlib province is the most famous example of this kind of revolutionary creativity. But why do they do it? They are not just doing it for show. It is a direct appeal to the outside world for some kind of solidarity. Unfortunately, people in the West have failed to meet that call. The Syrian revolutionaries on the ground, the youth who first started the uprising, have been completely abandoned at a time when they need solidarity the most.

One scene I remember vividly that captures the horrors of daily life in Syria took place where I was staying in Bustan Al Qasr, which is divided between rebel and government controlled areas. In this area, gun battles happen daily. Government snipers are located in the nearby buildings, simply waiting for any type of activity on the other side. Everyday, amid sniper fire, people from one side cross over to the other because they have to go to work, visit family, or transport goods. They call it “the crossing of death.” People get shot by the snipers all the time trying to make this perilous journey – many of them get killed. Yet despite the danger, people still do it – they don’t really have a choice.

You see people running back and forth, some fall down, others risk their own life trying to help them back up. The scene is total madness. It just gives you a sense of how daily life in Syria has been completely taken over by the war in this very tragic way.

I am wondering if you have any reflections about your trip to Syria as a progressive media activist in Toronto?

It’s very heartbreaking to see what is happening in Syria. Leaving Syria, coming back to Canada and knowing that it’s getting worse every day is difficult. I struggle every day with trying to think about ways that we can show solidarity with the Syrian people and possibly influence the outcome in a positive way.

I quickly came to the realization that the daily images of the horrors taking place in Syria – all of the death, destruction, displacement – although tragic, simply aren’t enough to move people to action. I felt very demoralized after leaving because I learned that no matter how much you try to show people the reality of what is happening, by itself it isn’t likely to make much of a difference. Most people will probably just tune out because it doesn’t affect them directly in any way.

Personally, I don’t think foreign military intervention is the solution. Yet it’s clear some kind of an international response is needed. There are many clear, concrete, and effective ways for ordinary people like ourselves to make a positive impact on the ground in Syria.

I will give you one example. I visited a village in the suburbs of Aleppo called Atareb where a new local civilian council has emerged. This is a very important development taking place right now, not only there but all over northern Syria. These local civilian councils, although still in the early stages, represent a kind of alternative governance structure that is filling the void left vacant by the state. They address basic needs like water, electricity, food distribution, education, and so on. Right now, because of the damage done by the war, they are largely preoccupied with reconstruction efforts.

In this case, the bakery in the village has been shelled by the Assad regime no less than 10 times. Several of the bakery workers have been injured or killed in these attacks. Nevertheless, after each attack, the workers are back at the bakery the next day to repair the damage so they can resume production. Bread is a staple food in Syria, and the bakery doesn’t just provide bread for the people of Atareb; it also supplies another 17 surrounding villages, so it’s very important that it’s up and running.

In addition to the constant shelling, the bakery also struggles with wheat shortages. Where does the bakery get the wheat? They receive it from Jabhat al Nusra, who themselves seize it from government areas they take over in combat. The village has become dependent on Jabhat al Nusra in this way.

People like us can actually do a lot to support these local civilian councils by backing small projects, like getting the wheat mill up and running – either by offering financial assistance, logistical support, or technical expertise. By doing so, we not only help ordinary Syrians in a direct way that goes beyond mere charity but also build a basis for genuine people-to-people solidarity.

As a result, you achieve two key objectives: you support the Syrian people’s capacity to help themselves, moving away from aid to solidarity, while at the same time directly undercutting the growing influence on the ground of groups like Jabhat al Nusra.

If we don’t like Jabhat al Nusra, then we have to understand how they are winning support, directly confront it, and offer real alternatives. If we simply cede this terrain, we leave it to groups like Jabhat al Nusra to step in and fill the void. The results should not surprise us.

Syrian people feel abandoned by the world. They are asking for our solidarity. The local civilian councils are a good place for us to start, I think – one that actually provides a principled alternative to both the Assad regime and the Syrian rebels.

Film Review: Dirty Wars

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Tue, 27 Aug 2013 15:58:00 +0000

Canadian Dimension

By Ali Mustafa

Dirty Wars
Directed by Rick Rowley

In Dirty Wars, acclaimed investigative journalist Jeremy Scahill takes on what is likely the most important story of his career. Directed by award-winning filmmaker Rick Rowley, the film follows Scahill to Afghanistan, Yemen, Somalia, and beyond to reveal a new kind of frontline in the global ‘war on terror’—one led by a secret army in the shadows where the basic rules of war do not apply. According to Scahill, “this is a story about the seen and unseen, and about things hidden in plain sight.”

Scahill first takes us to Gardez, Afghanistan, a small village a world away from the safety and comfort of the ‘Green Zone’ in Kabul. There he interviews a man whose home was targeted in a mysterious night raid that left five of his family members dead, including three women, two of them pregnant. A grainy cell phone video taken at the scene reveals that the bullets in the corpses were carefully removed in an attempt to cover up the incident. Clearly, this was not the work of amateurs.

Who could have possibly carried out this incredibly sophisticated military operation, and why did they go to such horrifying lengths to cover it up?

The investigation takes Scahill all the way to the top of the White House military chain of command, leading him directly to the US President’s own elite force: Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). Gardez, it appears, was only one small piece of a far larger story. Outside of any officially declared warzone, US drone strikes, targeted assassinations, and covert military operations are taking place in countries all over the world with total impunity. As Scahill reminds us, “The world has become America’s battlefield, and we can go everywhere.”

Perhaps the most powerful part of the film focuses on the story of radical Islamic cleric Anwar al-Awlaki, an American citizen who was killed by a US drone strike in Yemen on September 30, 2011. Targeted for his fiery sermons against the US wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, he became the first American to be placed on President Obama’s secret ‘kill list’ and assassinated without due process. Two weeks later his 16-year-old son, Abdulrahman al-Awlaki, also an American, suffered the same fate in a separate US drone strike. “Not for who he was,” argues Scahill, “but for who he might one day become.”

Osama bin Laden’s assassination did not spell the end of the global ‘war on terror’ but merely opened a new chapter—one that has dramatically expanded since President Obama came into office in 2009. In a war without defined frontlines, winnable objectives, or end in sight, the echoes of Gardez can be heard everywhere. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, for every ‘terrorist’ the US kills, it only helps create dozens more.

Dirty Wars provides a raw and gripping exposé on the dark side of US foreign policy in the post-9/11 era. Relying on key eyewitness accounts, interviews with US military insiders, and Scahill’s own personal narrative, the film is a haunting journey into the heart of the global ‘war on terror’. The result is a critical and timely reminder on the fundamental dangers of unchecked government power.

Film Review: A Steady Lens and a Dangerous Weapon

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 18:40:00 +0000

Briarpatch Magazine

By Ali Mustafa

5 Broken Cameras
Directed by Emad Burnat and Guy Davidi

As soon as residents of the Israeli-occupied West Bank village of Bil’in learned of plans to build a wall on their land to make way for a Jewish-only settlement in 2005, non-violent demonstrations erupted. During the same year, Emad Burnat, a local villager, purchased his first video camera to record the birth of his youngest son, Gibreel. From the beginning of the film 5 Broken Cameras, co-directed by Burnat and Israeli filmmaker Guy Davidi, these two events are inextricably entangled.

Over the next five years, Burnat films his village’s weekly demonstrations against the wall and encroaching settlement, often in the face of brutal, unprovoked violence by Israeli soldiers and nearby settlers. Peaceful standoffs with soldiers invariably end in indiscriminate barrages of tear gas, stun grenades, and live bullets against unarmed protesters – many of them young children. Scenes of death and funeral marches become tragically commonplace.

If Burnat’s camera is treated like a dangerous weapon, that is because, in a sense, it is. One camera after another – five in all – either gets shot by Israeli soldiers or smashed by settlers, each one ultimately contributing its own piece of the larger story. “When I film, I feel like the camera protects me,” says Burnat. Yet it is exactly the act of filming, and the raw reality his camera finds, that makes him a regular target of Israeli soldiers. In one memorable scene, a bullet misses Burnat by inches and lodges inside his camera instead, almost certainly saving his life.

Despite the recurrent risk, no incident escapes Burnat’s steady, probing lens. He documents house raids by Israeli soldiers, including one at his own residence in the dead of night; olive orchards burnt to the ground after being set ablaze by violent settler mobs; and his best friend, Phil, getting fatally shot during a routine peaceful demonstration. All the while, little Gibreel is coming of age. We can only wonder what toll these events are taking on his fragile young psyche. Most of the time, it seems too much for him to bear. At one point, Gibreel looks up to his father to ask, “Why don’t you kill the soldiers with a knife?”

“Because they would shoot me,” Burnat calmly responds.

Accompanied by Burnat’s sombre and reflective narration, and composed almost entirely of his own personal footage, 5 Broken Cameras weaves a compelling, unflinching portrait of daily life under occupation. The result is a poignant and introspective chronicle of what happens when the personal and political are forced to collide.

One important question inevitably arises: what kind of lasting impact can a film like this, or advocacy journalism more broadly, hope to achieve? This film by itself is not likely to change the reality on the ground – nor, admittedly, does it aspire to do so. What motivates Burnat is far more simple yet no less difficult to attain: “Healing is a challenge in life. It is a victim’s sole obligation,” he says. “Forgotten wounds cannot be healed. So I film to heal.”

5 Broken Cameras is a powerfully moving portrayal of one Palestinian village’s courageous resistance to ongoing Israeli occupation and colonization. The film is also a story about searching for hope, dignity, and justice against seemingly impossible odds. Above all, however, it is an enduring testament to the universal struggle of memory against effacement.

Because of the footage his cameras captured, Burnat will never forget what he has witnessed. After watching this film, neither will we.

The “Ultras” and the Egyptian Revolution – An Interview with Ali Mustafa

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Sun, 03 Mar 2013 05:54:00 +0000

Left Hook

Left Hook: The Arab Spring is read by most people in the West as a pro-democracy movement that used social media to organize protests to oust a military dictator. Hosni Mubarak was removed from power more than two years ago. Can you give a bit of background on the political situation in Egypt right now? How much has really changed?

Ali Mustafa: Firstly, Egypt’s revolution is part of a long and ongoing process that is far from complete. More than two years after former dictator Hosni Mubarak was toppled, ordinary Egyptians are still taking to the street en masse to fight for bread, freedom, and social justice. Nothing has changed at all in that regard. In fact, mass protests, labour actions, and ongoing clashes with state security forces in opposition to the ruling regime have only intensified in recent months.
Despite the transition to liberal democracy finally completed last year, many of the underlying structural flaws that have plagued Egypt for decades are not only still in place but arguably worse than they were before: vast inequality, widespread corruption, grave human rights abuses – all of the problems that originally led Egyptians to rise up against Mubarak in the first place.

Since taking office as the first ever democratically elected president in the country’s history, Mohamed Morsi has largely failed to capitalize on the historic opportunity before him. His top priority has clearly been to consolidate his own grip on power. As a result, his presidency has signaled far more continuity than actual change.

Yet it is a mistake to treat any new democracy as some sort of a blank slate, ignoring just how much of the dynamics at play are inherited rather than decided. In Egypt, the so called ‘deep state’ – a longstanding legacy of deeply entrenched elite interests, including but not limited to those of the military – remains firmly intact. As a result, the transition from dictatorship to democracy is by no means an easy one. Elections alone do not signify a major break with the prevailing political and economic order. Without any meaningful level of structural reform, they only serve to further consolidate the status quo.

Egyptians, however, refuse to let up pressure. They have made it very clear that they are no longer willing to accept politics as usual, merely having one autocrat replaced by another. Too much has been sacrificed over the past two years to simply turn back now.

Rocks prepared for use during the ‘Cabinet clashes’. December 2011. Photo: Ali Mustafa

That being said, many serious challenges still lie ahead. The inspiring sense of unity found in Tahrir Square during the original 18 day uprising that finally toppled Mubarak actually concealead far more than it revealed. Egypt is more polarized now than ever before. The result has been one major political crisis after another with virtually no end in sight. How exactly everything will play out is still difficult to say at this point, but the fault lines are clear.

LH: On February 1, 2012, over 70 people were killed in the 'Port Said massacre' at a football match. Many people have argued that this attack was orchestrated from the top as a reprisal against the ‘Ultras.’ What happened in Port Said and who are the Ultras?

AM: Ultras are a group of avid, typically young football fans united by a very strong sense of loyalty to their club. Generally, each team will have its own dedicated following of Ultras supporters. Aside from style of clothing, like a hoodie or scarf bearing their team's colours, Ultras are otherwise distinguishable from ordinary fans by the animated displays of support they bring to football matches in the form of chants, flare shows, and other theatrics. These activities are meant to inspire a unique sense of belonging among the participants involved, awe spectators, as well as intimidate supporters of the opposing side.

What many people may not know about the Ultras is just how sophisticated they are organizationally. They have a centralized leadership structure, smaller subgroups divided by region, and regular meetings attended by local representatives where key decisions concerning the group's activities are made. The reason so little is known about them is because of their somewhat secretive nature and reluctance to talk to media.

The Ultras phenomenon originally has its roots in Europe, and really only made its way to Egypt and other parts of the Middle East in the early 2000s. Nevertheless, the impact has been unmistakable. The youthful spirit and energy they bring with them to the matches, much like we find elsewhere, including Europe, naturally creates a highly charged atmosphere inside the stadium. As a result, tension tends to run very high during most matches, occasionally leading to minor skirmishes or sometimes even larger outbreaks of violence between rival Ultras. They certainly have no problem taking on the police as well.

Actually, despite some notable variations from one region to another, one of the basic, underlying themes of the Ultras culture globally is a deeply held contempt for the police and authority more generally. This type of intense hatred can be best summed up by the motto made popular by the Ultras, which you will find, for example, spray painted on walls all over downtown Cairo: All Cops Are Bastards (or ACAB). This kind of longstanding feud that exists between Ultras and the police in Egypt has only grown worse in recent years.

During the start of the Egyptian revolution on January 25 2011, Ultras were at the forefront of the clashes against the police in Tahrir Square, especially during the now infamous Battle of the Camel. Since then, the Ultras have played a major, indispensable role in the ongoing struggle against the regime and become renowned among Egyptians for their bravery and fighting skills. Basically, they have brought their years of experience in fighting against police from the stadium to the streets.

A police truck is smashed after Central Security Forces (CSF) raid Tahrir Square earlier in the day. November 2011. Photo: Ali Mustafa

All of this provides really important context for understanding what happened a year later in Port Said, which, as you say, saw over 70 people brutally killed and 1,000 more injured in a stadium riot after a match between Al Ahly and Al Masry on February 1, 2012. The incident is recognized as the deadliest sporting disaster in Egypt's history. After the match, fans from the hometown Masry side stormed the pitch and began attacking visiting Ahly supporters in the stands with clubs, knives, and other types of weapons. Most of the individuals killed, however, actually suffocated to death after being trampled in the ensuing chaos – it was later revealed that the gates of the stadium had in fact been welded shut, leading to a deadly stampede at the exit that could have otherwise been avoided.

Several important questions immediately come to mind, which until now have not really been sufficiently answered. First of all, why were the gates of the stadium welded shut, making any sort of safe exit virtually impossible? Why were so many people not searched by security before being allowed to enter the stadium as per standard protocol? Why did the police do nothing to intervene and instead just stand idly by watching the massacre unfold?

The whole incident just begs too many questions to be dismissed away as a random act of football ‘hooliganism’. Suspicion immediately turned towards the Ministry of Interior and even higher up the chain of command to the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), the ruling military junta at the time, who the Ultras accused of orchestrating the attack as an act of revenge against them for their role in the uprising. Whether or not the authorities actively colluded in the attack and to what degree is still unclear, but I think it is safe to say, based on the evidence, they were at the very least willfully negligent.

Last month on January 26 2013, 21 individuals – all of them residents of Port Said – were sentenced by a judge to death for their role in the massacre. Interestingly, no police or government officials at any level were convicted. The city of Port Said immediately erupted into violence over what many locals claim was a politically charged verdict. The argument is not entirely without merit. Ultras Ahlawy, who are supporters of Ahly, the country’s biggest club in Cairo, had for weeks been threatening retribution if a swift guilty verdict was not handed down.

I think it is certainly possible that the ruling was made as an attempt to appease Ultras Ahlawy. Of course, no one was counting on Port Said erupting the way it did. Some 30 more people were killed in the ensuing clashes with police over the verdict. Actually, the fallout is still being felt until today. Whoever claims that there is no relation between sports and politics clearly understands neither.

LH: It may come as a surprise to North American observers that sports fans could be such central political actors, especially in a progressive cause, given that North American sporting culture has become so apolitical or, worse, so deeply conservative. Can you talk a bit about the way that sporting culture is more complicated in Egypt, and how football fans/clubs can come to represent important and progressive political ideals?

The Ultras phenomenon in Egypt, like elsewhere, cannot be isolated from its broader social, political, and economic context. In the case of Egypt, these are largely marginalized urban youth who until the revolution really had no outlet to channel their frustration except through sports. The specific internal dynamics at play are necessary to look at.

Each finger shows off a shotgun shell used on protesters over the course of the clashes in and around Tahrir Square. November 2011. Photo: Ali Mustafa

Importantly, Ultras groups in Egypt have not developed the same type of neo-fascist political ideology we find steadily taking root among their Western European counterparts. I think the reason is largely because Egypt has historically been far less polarized than, for example, Greece, the UK, or many of the Eastern bloc countries where this specific brand of far right-wing hooliganism has become particularly prominent over time. There are many other factors.

That being said, I do not want to overstate or romanticize at all the progressive political ideals, as you say, of Egypt’s Ultras. For many years, they were in fact quite explicitly apolitical and shied away totally from the arena of politics. Even today to a large degree, Ultras will insist that their role in the revolution is not so much political per se, but rather part of a longstanding and bitter rivalry with the Ministry of Interior, police, and other state security forces.

What is clear, however, whether it is acknowledged or not, is the degree to which the revolution has actually played a part in politicizing the Ultras in the first place – and that is true for large sectors of the society in general. Although the Ultras in Egypt have for a long time avoided politics, a basic notion of freedom, justice, and dignity has always been at the core of its values. These sort of core values, together with an already pronounced anti-police sentiment, I think helped provide a firm basis for the Ultras’ overall development politically.

By the time the revolution started, Ultras members were already participating as individuals, although not yet formally as a group. They were for the most part not acting on any sort of deeply held political convictions but more so a growing sense of indignation towards their hated enemy, the police, and increasingly the government itself. Although the sense of anger, outrage, and injustice they felt still lacked any clear political coherence, it was not very difficult for them to make a connection with the goals of the revolution at a basic emotional level.

Martyrdom, memory, and memorialization are also all very central aspects of the Ultras spirit. They have a very strict ‘eye for an eye’ mentality. When Ultras members started dying in the clashes, their relationship to the revolution changed – it became intensely personal. As a result, the focus for them immediately turned to avenging their martyrs at any cost. In fact, one of the main criticisms against the Ultras is that they care far more about their club and fellow members than anything else. I think it is difficult to dispute that claim.

Yet there is no doubt that the Ultras have played an incredibly important role in the ongoing revolution to date. Like I said, they have taken a lead role in most of the clashes against the regime over the past two years, not to mention the many times they have helped defend Tahrir Square from attacks by thugs loyal to the government. Exactly how effective the clashes have been to the overall goals of the revolution is still very much in dispute, but in reality nothing else has done more to raise the price of dictatorship, make the status quo untenable, and generally disrupt politics as usual.

What is interesting, however, is the way the Ultras as a movement has evolved over time – not only politically but tactically as well. In the early stages of the revolution, we only really saw them engage in street fighting with police – which they still do – but they now also employ a wide variety of other strategies to achieve their demands, including mass sit-ins, road blocks, and other forms of direct action. In the lead up to the Port Said verdict a few weeks ago, for example, Ultras Ahlawy staged a sit in at one of the largest metro stations in Cairo to demand justice for their martyrs. They held up traffic for several hours, making it very clear the scale of disruption they could cause in the country if the verdict did not go their way.

Youth watch nearby clashes atop a street lamp holding a sign that reads: “raise your head, you are Egyptian”. November 2011. Photo: Ali Mustafa

Another important development linked directly to the revolution is the decision by Ultras Ahlawy and Ultras White Knights, supporters of the two biggest clubs in Egypt, and former heated rivals, to put aside their differences and join forces in the fight against the regime. The move is very significant, especially considering the historic rivalry between the two teams. For me, it definitely demonstrates just how much the Ultras have matured as political actors since the start of the revolution.

LH: Can you talk a little bit about the way that gender plays out in the context of the Ultras and its role in the movement?

Yes, that is a very important question. There is definitely a clear macho mentality that permeates the Ultras culture, whether in Egypt or elsewhere. The same can also be said of sports in general. Yet I think the glaring gender divide found in Egypt’s Ultras movement is really just a symptom of a much larger systemic problem. The Ultras culture of hyper masculinity cannot really be addressed until it has been confronted in Egyptian society as a whole.

In Egypt, not only is any kind of open interaction between the sexes still sort of taboo but there is also an entirely different set of social expectations imposed on women that simply do not apply to men. As a result, women in Egypt are often castigated for failing to conform to their prescribed role in society. The problem existed long before the Ultras, but I think, whether intentionally or not, they have done a lot more to reinforce these problematic gender norms than actually confront them.

For example, during the sit in that Ultras Ahlawy staged outside the parliament building a month after the Port Said massacre – their first major direct action – the group’s leadership tried to impose several ground rules directed explicitly at women. Firstly, they put a curfew into effect prohibiting women from being at the sit in after 10 pm. Even more shockingly, women were also banned from smoking cigarettes at the site. Although in the end the rules were only loosely enforced, I think it goes a long way to highlight the many barriers women still face to be treated as equal players in this revolution.

That being said, I think the revolution itself has done a lot to put a spotlight on the problem. Since the start of the revolution, women have been increasingly targeted for participating in marches, protests, or other related activities – sexual assaults in Tahrir Square have increased dramatically in the past few months alone. Yet rather than back down or retreat from the public sphere, women have in fact only increased their presence on the streets. The fight for women’s rights, being led by women themselves, is now a key battleground in a way it had not really been a year or two ago.

Youth assemble by a wall erected by the army in an effort to put a stop to ongoing clashes. December 2011.
Photo: Ali Mustafa

LH: The obsessive reification of technology and social media in North American culture has created a perception that the Arab Spring was driven by Facebook and Twitter. This seems rather superficial to me. These technologies may have influenced the shape and the specific manifestations of demonstrations, but it seems to me that social movements have to be rooted in real human, social relationships between people. Do you think sport can be a space where those kinds of connections can be formed and fostered? Does the Egyptian context suggest something that we can build on, with respect to our own movement building, and its relationship to sports?

To be honest, I am not so sure that the Ultras offer the best model for anyone to replicate. Sports by itself is simply not a useful basis for effective social movement building, in my opinion. Like sports, there is also a very clear, deliberate divide between participants and spectators in the Ultras movement that should not go overlooked. While the type of mass mobilization, camaraderie, and energy for which the Ultras have become renowned all make for a very awe-inspiring spectacle, it is not one that is really open to outsiders who do not embody the same type of youthful enthusiasm for football that they do.

Yet the factors that help explain why the Ultras have become such a powerful and influential force on the ground transcend far beyond the realm of sports alone. There is nothing inevitable about their transformation into political actors. As a result, the Ultras cannot really be understood outside the context of the revolutionary process from which they emerged.

That being said, I think there are definitely some general lessons to be gleaned. The test for any social movement lies primarily in its ability to build and strengthen unity. Social movement are more likely to find success where there is also a strong sense of shared identity among members. The bond may find expression in a variety of ways, like sports, for example, but it must be based first and foremost on real root grievances to have any kind of potential politically.

Aside from unity of cause, most successful social movements also typically feature some sort of ritualistic component through which the bond shared between individual members is not only forged but sustained over time – it is in here where the role of collective memory that I alluded to earlier becomes particularly important. Some examples that immediately come to mind include the Landless Rural Workers Movement in Brazil, the Zapatistas in Mexico, and even, to a large degree, the Idle No More movement here in Canada. Although these social movements could not possibly be any more different from one another, they all share a certain kind of spirituality that gets expressed, nurtured, and reinforced through the act of specific rituals. The Ultras are certainly no exception in that regard.

When thinking about building an effective social movement, the key questions for me are is it inclusive? Is it participatory? Is it democratic in character? Those are the questions that I find important. Whether a social movement emerges from sports or somewhere else is a secondary matter.

Kafka in the courts: The account of Canada’s longest-serving security certificate detainee

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Sun, 20 Jan 2013 09:33:00 +0000

Egypt Independent

Photo credit: Ali Mustafa

By Ali Mustafa

TORONTO — Mohammad Mahjoub first arrived in Canada in December 1995, fleeing political persecution in his native Egypt, where he was imprisoned and tortured by the Hosni Mubarak regime. He was granted refugee status in 1996.

Shortly after settling in Toronto, he met and married Mona al-Fouli, and had two children, Ibrahim and Youssef.

It was not very long, however, before his new life in Canada took a nightmare turn for the worse.

“I was on my way to work. I was about to cross the street when suddenly, I found several vehicles around me and many police officers saying, ‘Police! Police! Police!’” recounts Mahjoub. “I was looking right and left, and then found out I was the target. I was arrested right away without knowing why. It was like a Hollywood movie.”

On 26 June 2000, Mahjoub was arrested on a “security certificate,” a controversial legal mechanism housed under the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, which the Canadian government has used to indefinitely detain five Muslim men without charge or trial on the basis of undisclosed, “secret” evidence. Together these men later became known as the “Secret Trial Five.”

Between Canada and Egypt

Mahjoub most likely first attracted the attention of the Canadian government after his name was mentioned in a wiretapped phone conversation between one of the later security certificate detainees, Mahmoud Jaballah, and another individual.

Shortly afterward, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service began to share information about Mahjoub with the Mubarak regime’s General Intelligence Service.

Apparently intent on extraditing Mahjoub back to Egypt, Mubarak’s security forces arrested and jailed three of his brothers in the summer of 1997. Between 1997 and 2005, they were arrested, released, and re-arrested no less than 25 times.

At the center of the Canadian government’s case against Mahjoub is the fact that he was listed as one of 107 people summarily convicted by an Egyptian military court in the 1999 “Returnees from Albania” trial, in which defendants were suspected by Egyptian intelligence of being national security threats or having ties to Islamic fundamentalist groups and many were kidnapped from abroad and secretly returned to Egypt.

Based on what is known to have been a forced confession provided by another defendant in the case, Mahjoub stood accused of being a key member of an Al-Qaeda-linked group in Egypt known as the Vanguards of Conquest.

Within a matter of hours, Mahjoub was sentenced, in absentia, to 15 years imprisonment in a trial that has been internationally condemned for failing to meet a minimum standard of due process.

After Mubarak was toppled in January 2011, the case was reopened, and many of Mahjoub’s co-accused have since been cleared of any wrongdoing and freed.

The West’s war on terror

Meanwhile, in Canada, Mahjoub had served seven and a half years in a Canadian maximum-security prison, nearly three of them in solitary confinement. As of today, he has never been charged with any crime.

“The conditions of my detention were very harsh — because of my background, my skin color, my religion, my beard and so on,” claims Mahjoub.

Nevertheless, he says it was not until the events of 9/11 — and the heightened climate of Islamophobia that followed — that his torment in detention truly began.

“After September 11, 2001, my whole life was turned upside down ... I didn’t have anything to do with September 11 — I was in detention 15 months before then,” he affirms. “The day after September 11, they put me in solitary confinement, and took off all my clothes, except for a suicide-watch gown.”

“I was in a dark cell, without access to a toilet or light for 15 days. I was treated very badly by my jailers at Metro West Detention Center. ... One of the staff even asked a detainee to harm me. He used very ugly language towards me. He said, ‘You are a fucking Muslim terrorist. People like you should be killed.’”

Mahjoub says he suffered physical abuse, repeated death threats and even attempted sexual assault by prison staff in the segregation unit.

Family pains

Yet, despite everything that has happened to him over the course of the past 12 years, it is only when he begins to talk about the impact of the case on his family that his composure becomes visibly shaken.

“Detention affects the family completely. ... For instance, the kids grow up without their dad. They don’t know who their dad is, because when I was detained, my two sons were very little. One was two and a half, and the youngest one was only a few months old.”

In 2006, Mahjoub was transferred to a new, multimillion-dollar facility in Kingston, Ontario, built specifically for security certificate detainees and dubbed “Guantanamo North.”

A February 2007 landmark ruling from the Supreme Court of Canada deemed security certificates to be unconstitutional. Yet, less than a year later, the Conservative Party government of Prime Minister Stephen Harper managed to successfully introduce a slightly amended version of the same law.

Mahjoub and the other security certificate detainees were again back to square one.

Mahjoub was finally ordered released on house arrest later in 2007. However, it was far from a happy family reunion.

Strict bail conditions attached to his release placed a heavy burden on his wife and sons, who were required to physically monitor him at all times and were even themselves placed under constant government surveillance.

“My wife and stepson were playing the role of my jailer, and they were jailed with me as well. They couldn’t leave me by myself at all. They were detained with me 24/7,” he recounts.

“It is very difficult to explain how harsh, how terrible the conditions imposed on me and my family were. Let’s say I can handle it, as a man, I already spent years in detention — three of those years in segregation — but my wife and my little kids can’t. They are human, like anybody else. Why should these conditions be imposed on them?”

Rather than continue to subject his wife and sons to further humiliation and punishment, he requested to be returned back to detention at “Guantanamo North” in June 2009.

In November of that year, Mahjoub was again ordered transferred to house arrest — but by this time, his marriage was over. Unable to cope with the constant invasion into the family’s private space, his wife decided to leave him and take the children with her, he says. He has not been allowed to see his sons in over two years.

“My apartment window had a sensor. Whenever I wanted to smell fresh air, I had to call my jailer to open the window. If I wanted to close the window, I had to call my jailer again,” insists Mahjoub.

“I wasn’t even allowed to speak to people in the street. I still have a GPS band on my foot, 24/7. There was a two-way video camera inside my place, in addition to the security camera outside of my residence. My phone is tapped,” he says. “Detention, in my opinion, is much better than here. They kill you slowly, step by step. ... It has many negative impacts on me mentally, physically and emotionally.”

Suspended justice

The Federal Court recently ruled that the presumption of innocence in security certificate cases does not apply, since no charges exist in the first place.

As a result, Mahjoub exists in a state of legal limbo: He faces either indefinite detention without charge or trial in Canada, or deportation back to Egypt, no matter what threat of torture or other human rights violations may await him there.

Yavar Hameed, one of Mahjoub’s lawyers, says defending his client under such exceptional circumstances has been anything but easy.

“Mr. Mahjoub has for 12 years remained with the most severe bail conditions in Canadian history. But because it’s colored by what the ministers call national security, it somehow justifies the greatest kinds of violations to his life, liberty, and security that we’ve ever seen,” Hameed says.

From the time of his arrest in 2000 until 2006, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service admitted to listening in on confidential phone calls between Mahjoub and his lawyers in a breach of the solicitor-client relationship. Canadian intelligence also systematically destroyed or concealed key evidence in the case, only further adding to the long list of factors that make any sort of fair hearing for Mahjoub virtually impossible.

In the summer of 2010, the Department of Justice illegally seized 14 boxes of confidential court documents belonging to Mahjoub and his defense team, which they then transferred to their own offices before proceeding to sort, analyze and copy the materials inside.

“If this is their behavior, what’s the difference between Mubarak’s regime and this regime here?” asks Mahjoub. “If their attitude is the same, there is no difference. Why do they call themselves a democratic society?”

In December 2012, Mahjoub experienced a major breakthrough in his case, when an Egyptian court overturned his previous conviction in the ‘Returnees from Albania’ trial. As a result, he no longer has any outstanding charges or convictions against him anywhere in the world.

On 7 January, the Federal Court lifted many of Mahjoub’s remaining bail conditions. He hopes that this year his security certificate case will finally be quashed, once and for all.

This piece was originally published in Egypt Independent's weekly print edition.

The 2012 Toronto Palestine Film Festival: A Preview

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Fri, 28 Sep 2012 20:01:00 +0000

Toronto Media Co-op

By Ali Mustafa

The 2012 Toronto Palestine Film Festival (TPFF) is finally set to hit theatres this weekend. Launched in 2008 to commemorate the 60^th anniversary of al nakba, TPFF aims to showcase the vibrant cultural heritage, resilience, and collective identity of the Palestinian people through film, art, and other events. In five short years, against all the odds, TPFF has quickly emerged as one of the city's premier film festival experiences. In a city with no shortage of noteworthy film festivals such as the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), the International Diaspora Film Festival (IDFF), and Hot Docs, it is TPFF's community-based, activist roots that help distinguish it from many of its larger and more established counterparts.

This year's program promises to be one of the most ambitious yet, featuring 25 films covering a wide array of timely themes ranging from art and music to war and occupation. Although TPFF's stories are told from a uniquely Palestinian perspective, many of the overarching themes explored are universal in nature.

“We try and select films on topics that will interest our audience. This year we selected films on a variety of themes that have not been covered in past festivals and on topics our audience will want to learn more about,” says Dania Majid, Media Relations Coordinator at TPFF. “This year we have films about female soccer players, political prisoners, relationships, architecture, quarrying in Palestine, and the underground arts scene in Alexandria, Egypt.”

In the past, TPFF has managed to screen several Canadian premieres, oftentimes with the respective film directors and other special guests in attendance. 2012 will certainly be no exception. In addition to featuring 12 Canadian premieres, this year's TPFF will also debut a total of four films never before screened in North America.

TPFF has also taken a few risks this year in order to push its own boundaries and provide audiences with the most satisfying experience possible. “We are opening with a documentary for the first time. Normally we have documentaries mid-week or sometimes for closing, so this is something new for us,” says Andrew Hugill, Accounting and Logistics Coordinator at TPFF and one of its founding members.

Opening night at TPFF will feature the Canadian premiere of Abdallah Omeish's award-winning documentary The War Around Us. The film offers an intensely gripping first-hand account of the 2008-2009 Israeli military assault on the Gaza Strip through the lens of two Al Jazeera English journalists, Ayman Mohyeldin and Sherine Tadros – the only Western reporters on the ground at the time. Dubbed by Israel as Operation Cast Lead, the brutal, indiscriminate air and ground attack would go on to kill no less than 1,400 Palestinians in the span of just three weeks.

The two journalists' exclusive coverage of the war proved decisive in exposing to the outside world the human toll of the attack on an already besieged and defenseless civilian population. Using news reports, never-before-seen personal footage, and candid testimonies from the two journalists themselves, the film manages to convey in graphic detail the utter sense of helplessness and despair inside Gaza once the bombs began to drop.

Unforgettably horrific footage aired worldwide on Al Jazeera of dead and injured civilians, many of them young children, put lie to the dominant narrative echoed faithfully by the Western media that Israel had only been carrying out 'targeted', 'surgical strikes' against 'terrorists'.

In the film, Mohyeldin and Tadros show us that they are able to step outside of their familiar role as 'journalist' to speak first and foremost as witnesses, providing a deeply intimate portrait of who they are as individuals in the process. This one is definitely not to be missed. Omeish, the director, will also be in attendance for a Q & A following the screening.

The War Around Us

Beyond the Walls, by Ahmad Al Rahami, is another documentary to keep an eye out for this year. The film follows the story of seven former political prisoners, each of whom spent at least a decade or more locked up in Israeli prison. According to the film's introduction, over 700,000 Palestinians have been imprisoned by Israel since the 1967 war. Using stylish animation sequences and personal interviews with the main subjects in order to drive the story forward, the film highlights the plight facing prisoners not only inside but, just as importantly, beyond the prison walls. For most of the prisoners here, the hardships of life in prison are simply replaced after release by many social, psychological, and financial challenges that are no less difficult to cope with.

The interviews here are deeply revealing, shedding light on the degree to which prison has come to inform in one way or another the lives of so many Palestinians. Over the course of the film, it is increasingly clear just how central a role prisoners play in helping shape, define, and articulate the Palestinian narrative. Yet the film carefully avoids mythologizing any of the characters to the status of heroes, preferring to let the prisoners simply speak for themselves. The result is a touching exploration of the rarely seen human side of these prisoners.

Beyond the Walls

One of this year's key programming highlights is the return of Arab World Perspectives – a night where the spotlight is placed on another Mid East country. This year, TPFF focuses on Egypt with director Ahmad Abdalla's award-winning drama Microphone. Set in beautiful Alexandria on the even of the youth-led revolution, the film captures the vibrant arts scene of Egypt's second largest city.

After spending years abroad, the film's protagonist Khaled returns home to Alexandria to find a flourishing underground arts scene. Inspired by what he sees, Khaled hopes to support this growing but widely misunderstood sub-culture movement. This beautifully shot film offers a unique glimpse into the lives of a new generation of Egyptian artists who have helped to inspire change in their own country and beyond. Many of the artists featured in the film played an active role in last January's revolt that toppled former dictator Hosni Mubarak.

Microphone

At five years old, TPFF still remains a community affair. Film co-presenters this year include the Mayworks Festival of Working People and the Arts (Women in the Stadium), No One Is Illegal (Beyond the Walls), as well as the Latin American and Caribbean Solidarity Network (Sacred Stones).

“We have learned that one of our main bases of support is the progressive/solidarity community. So this year, instead of just having our screenings co-presented by other film festivals, we also involved many community groups,” says Hugill. “We have also returned to Toronto Womens Bookstore to sell ticket after a break of a year.”

In addition to the films on offer, TPFF has also expanded in recent years to include a popular brunch called Sahtain!, a free art show showcasing the work of emerging local talent, and musical performances by internationally acclaimed Arab artists.

TPFF closes this year with a concert by the internationally acclaimed Lebanese singer, composer, and oud master Marcel Khalifé. Accompanied by the Al Mayadine Ensemble, Khalifé will be performing his own musical adaptation of poems written by one of the Arab world's most revered poets – the late Mahmoud Darwish.

“This is the first time that we have put on a such big concert. We worked hard to make it happen,” says Hugill.

If TPFF manages to show us anything, it is the following simple message: despite Israel's clear objective over the past 64 yeas to systematically destroy any meaningful expression of Palestinian identity, art, and culture, humanity always finds a way to prevail – we must not look away.

The Toronto Palestine Film Festival runs from September 29 to October 7. For more information visit: http://tpff.ca/

Still In Search of Justice: The story of Security Certificate Detainee Mohammad Mahjoub

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Thu, 28 Jun 2012 04:23:00 +0000

Toronto Media Co-op

Photo credit: Ali Mustafa

By Ali Mustafa and Tim Groves

“I have been in detention for 12 years without charge or trial... Why? I didn't commit any crime and I didn't do anything wrong, whether here or abroad. If I committed a crime, charge me and put me on trial, or release me. It's very simple – even people who commit murder get a fair trial,” says Mohammad Mahjoub, currently the longest serving security certificate detainee in Canada.

Mahjoub first arrived in Canada in 1995, fleeing political persecution from the military regime in his native Egypt. He was granted refugee status in Canada the following year and settled in Toronto where he married Mona el Fouli and had two children, Ibrahim and Yusuf.

To his horror, his life soon took a nightmare turn for the worse.

“I was on my way to work. Suddenly, I was about to cross the street when I found several vehicles around me and many police officers saying, 'Police! Police! Police!'” explains Mahjoub. “I was looking right and left, and then found out I was the target. I was arrested right away without knowing why.”

On June 26, 2000, Mahjoub was arrested on a 'security certificate', a legal mechanism housed under the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act that the Canadian government has used to indefinitely detain five Muslim men without charge or trial on the basis of undisclosed 'secret' evidence. These men later became known as the 'Secret Trial Five'.

Mahjoub likely first attracted the interest of the Canadian government as one of the 107 people summarily convicted by an Egyptian military court in the high profile 'Returnees from Albania' trial. Mahjoub was sentenced, in absentia, to 15 years imprisonment in a trial that has been internationally condemned for relying almost entirely on evidence obtained under torture.

After the fall of former Egyptian dictator Hosni Mubarak last year, the case was reopened and many of Mahjoub's co-accused have since been cleared of any wrongdoing and freed.

In Canada, however, Mahjoub was not so fortunate. He spent the next seven and a half years in prison, much of it under solitary confinement. Until today, he has never been charged with any crime.

“The conditions of my detention were very harsh – because of my background, my skin colour, my religion, my beard, and so on,” claims Mahjoub. “After September 11, 2001, my whole life was turned upside down... I got very serious death threats from a Canadian official. One of the staff [at the detention centre] even asked a detainee to harm me. He used very ugly language towards me. He said, 'You are a fucking Muslim terrorist. People like you should be killed.'”

Mahjoub says he faced physical abuse, repeated death threats, and even a sexual assault attempt by prison staff at the Metro West Detention Centre. In response, Mahjoub staged several prolonged hunger strikes over the course of his imprisonment. On one occasion, he managed to survive for 76 days – and lost 110 pounds – drinking only water, orange juice, and occasional sips of broth before finally being hospitalized.

“I have to stand up for my dignity. For in instance, the Canadian government refused to allow me to have medical treatment. They left me in segregation without access to medical treatment for my tooth infection for over 8 months, even though we had a dentist in the detention center...as a result, I lost five of my teeth,” contends Mahjoub. “I had to go on hunger strike again to get eye glasses, which I can't see or read anything without. I went on hunger strike several times for basic medical treatment,” he adds.

In 2006, Mahjoub was transferred to a new, multi-million dollar facility in Kingston, Ontario built specifically for security certificate detainees appropriately dubbed 'Guantanamo North'.

In February 2007, after a landmark ruling, the Supreme Court of Canada found security certificates to be unconstitutional. However, the Conservative government of Prime Minister Stephen Harper managed to successfully introduce a similar, slightly revised version of the law less than a year later. Mahjoub and the other security certificate detainees were back to square-one.

After going on yet another hunger strike – incredibly, this time lasting 96 days – Mahjoub was ordered released on house arrest in February 2007.

The strict bail conditions attached to Mahjoub's release placed a heavy burden on his family who were required to physically monitor him at all times and even themselves placed under constant surveillance by the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) and the Canadian Border Service Agency (CBSA).

Rather than subject his wife and sons to further torment and punishment, Mahjoub requested to be returned to prison at Guantanamo North in June 2009.

In November of that year, Mahjoub was again ordered transferred to house arrest – this time alone. Nevertheless, his bail conditions remained heavily restrictive.

“My apartment window had a sensor. Whenever I wanted to smell fresh air, I had to call my jailer to open the window. If I wanted to close the window, I had to call my jailer again. When I was in prison, I had more freedom,” argues Mahjoub.

“I wasn't even allowed to speak to people in the street. I still have a GPS bracelet on my foot, 24/7. There was a two-way video camera inside my place, in addition to the security camera outside of my residence. My phone is tapped,” recounts Mahjoub. “Detention, in my opinion, is much better than here. They kill you slowly, step by step... It has many negative impacts on me mentally, physically, and emotionally.”

Canadian security certificate legislation essentially constructs a two-tiered justice system in which cases against non-citizens like Mahjoub are held to a lower standard of proof than those faced by citizens. In a process that can only be called 'Kafkaesque', the Federal Court recently ruled that the presumption of innocence in security certificate cases does not apply since no charges exist in the first place.

Mahjoub exists in a state of legal limbo: he can face either indefinite detention without charge or trial here in Canada, or deportation back to Egypt no matter what threat of torture or other human rights violations may await him.

From the time of his arrest in 2000 until 2006, CSIS admitted to illegally listening in on confidential phone calls between Mahjoub and his lawyer. CSIS also systematically destroyed or concealed key evidence in the case, only further adding to the long list of factors that make any sort of fair hearing for Mahjoub virtually impossible. In the summer of 2010, The Department of Justice managed to view, copy, and mix among their own files boxes of privileged documents belonging to Mahjoub and his defense.

Incredibly, the security certificate case against Mahjoub has still not been halted.

Yet after 12 long years, against all odds, Mahjoub remains as steadfast as ever in his struggle for freedom, dignity, and justice.

“First of all, I am a Muslim. I believe in Allah, and this a test from Allah to me. I have to be patient. I have hope... I believe in justice – even if there is no justice in the first place in Canada when it comes to the security certificate cases.”

In February of this year, the Federal Court finally loosened some of the more invasive conditions of Mahjoub's house arrest order. For the first time since he was arrested back in 2000, he can travel by himself anywhere in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA). He is also allowed to travel across Canada in the company of his court-appointed supervisor.

As a result, Mahjoub and his support team were able to complete a multi-city Canadian speaking tour, including dates in Ottawa, Montreal, Kingston, Guelph, Kitchener, Waterloo, Toronto, and London.

“It was easier for me to fly from Toronto to Ottawa than to take a streetcar in front of my door!” Mahjoub asks. “If I am a terrorist, as CSIS and the government of Canada claim, why wasn't my name on a 'no-fly list'?”

June 26, 2012 will mark the 12 year anniversary of Mahjoub's original arrest. A public rally is planned in front of CSIS Offices to insist that Mahjoub finally be freed – once and for all.

They will also demand an official government apology, reparations, and citizenship for all five men who have been victimized by Canada's security certificates regime.

Mohammad Mahjoub, Mahmoud Jaballah, and Mohamed Harkat continue to be held on security certificate cases.

“I thank Canadians so much for what they have done for me, and I ask them to continue supporting me and the other two security certificate detainees.”

For more information about Mohammad Mahjoub's story, his security certificate case, and how you can get involved with his support team, please visit: http://www.supportmahjoub.org/category/events/

Ali Mustafa is a freelance journalist, writer, and media activist. His writing can be found at:www.frombeyondthemargins.blogspot.com .

Tim Groves is an independent researcher and journalist in Toronto.

The Egyptian Revolution Continues: An Interview with Hossam El-Hamalawy

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 19:25:00 +0000

New Socialist

photo credit: Ali Mustafa

By Ali Mustafa

Hossam el-Hamalawy is a leading Egyptian journalist, photographer, and socialist activist from Cairo who maintains the widely followed blog 3arabawy. He is also actively involved in the Revolutionary Socialists, the Center for Socialist Studies, and the Workers Democratic Party. I had the fortunate opportunity to sit down and talk with him about his views on the current state of the Egyptian revolution following the latest revolt in Tahrir Square this past November, arguably the fiercest and most important display of popular resistance to the ruling military regime to take place since the January 25th uprising that toppled former president Hosni Mubarak some ten month ago.

Ali Mustafa: The first parliamentary elections of the post-Mubarak era have just been staged against a backdrop of deadly clashes between state security forces and protesters in and around Tahrir Square that left at least 42 people dead and over 3000 injured. What exactly spurred the recent outbreak of violence and how do you think these surrounding circumstances affect the overall legitimacy of the elections?

Hossam el-Hamalawy: What triggered the uprising this time are the same conditions that also triggered the January uprising. There isn't much that has changed over the past months, so the objective conditions for the revolt were there; all we needed was the trigger, something to happen that would basically ignite the whole situation again. We've had this before. This is not the first time we've had these kind of confrontations. We had them on the 28^th and 29^thof June, and the main trigger is always police brutality – police brutality that will not go away any time soon because the Interior Ministry is still there as it is, and the regime is still there as it is. This uprising is not going to last forever and is fizzling down as we speak now, but I believe it's not going to be the last one. There will be more uprisings to follow in the future.

How has this affected the legitimacy of the elections? Of course, it did. I had already taken the position even before the current uprising of boycotting the coming elections because they are happening while the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF) is still in power. You cannot have clean elections while Mubarak's generals are still running the show or when the army, together with the police, had just massacred people in Tahrir, and Maspero. They were not even held accountable, and now they are the ones supposedly in charge of supervising the whole process?

More importantly, it's not about who you vote into this inept parliament. My argument was that even if you elect one hundred percent Revolutionary Socialists in parliament – forget about the Salafis or the Ikhwan – still you will not be able to achieve the goals of the revolution. If you bring a prophet or a saint to be the prime minister today in Egypt, he will still remain a puppet in the hands of SCAF. If you elect a president today, while the situation is still as it is, he will also be a puppet in the hands of SCAF. SCAF are opting for a model which is like the old Turkish model where you get the people enjoying elections, electing civilian politicians in suits, and having civilian cabinets, but with specific red lines that cannot be crossed, and once they are crossed you will get a phone call from the army – or you will get a coup.

Unlike other activists who might tell you that SCAF never wants to leave power and they want to stay there forever, I sincerely believe they want to leave, but they want to go back to their barracks in a way that allows them to keep their privileges, their lack of accountability in front of the government, and their control over military budget so as to ensure it doesn't go down. Why would you busy yourself with running the daily affairs of the country when you can get your own puppets to run it and you keep all of your privileges? So, actually the people most keen on having these elections were SCAF! Unlike other conspiracy theories that will tell you that they instigated this violence in order to postpone it – no, they want these elections!

AM: There have been many comparisons made between this recent uprising and the one of January 25^th. What are some of the key similarities and differences worth highlighting between then and now?

HH: In the first day or two days of this uprising I was calmly drawing parallels with the 28^th and 29^th of June, but as the uprising went into its third day I was definitely recalling January. The fierce level of confrontations with the police has definitely been unprecedented since January. You can draw parallels between them in terms of police brutality triggering the uprising, in terms of the tactic of occupying the square, in terms of even repeating the same battles on Mohamad Mahmoud Street that were very reminiscent of the 29^th of January – the day after the 'Friday of Anger' there was a massacre on that street. But there are differences, of course. Not all sections of the population took part in the uprising, unlike January where there was a higher level of participation.

The other qualitative difference is that you were then revolting against Mubarak; now you are revolting against his own army generals. This is a plus, meaning we've come a long way. In February or March if you would have chanted against the army generals in a protest you could have been lynched by the people themselves – not by the military police – I mean by the people. Many people believed the lies and the propaganda of the army at the time about them protecting the revolution, or that it's Tahrir that's causing all of the instability, but ten months later when you get this full scale uprising basically against the military and a strong occupation that lasted for a few days with the one demand of putting the army generals in jail then you know you've come a long way in terms of the consciousness of the people

The uprising didn't succeed, obviously; we still have the army generals running the country. But it's not going to be the last uprising, and we have, at least, I would say, from 3 to 6 years of ebbs and flows, of battles to be won and others to be lost. But in general I'm optimistic. I'm not pessimistic about it.

AM: The Egyptian military, headed by SCAF, has been a central institution in the country for several decades now. How would you describe the place of the army in Egypt's political, economic, and social life, and what is the historical basis for the depth of support it still enjoys among many ordinary Egyptians?

HH: The talk about the army being the most popular institution among Egyptians is a complete lie. How can you judge that? When it's conscription time, do you find hundreds of thousands of Egyptian youth just running and flocking to the camps in order to enroll in the service? No, everybody tries to bribe his way out or dodge the service – that's the barometer, really. When it's conscription time, what's the behavior of Egyptians?

The army has been the ruling institution in this country since 1952. All the presidents have come from military backgrounds. Many of the cabinet ministers also come from army general backgrounds. Many of the governors also come from similar backgrounds. Many of the public sector CEO's are given those companies to manage as a reward after they retire from military service. So, the army is entrenched in our civilian life. They control from 25 to 40 percent of our economy. You can't get any accurate stats about them because there is a big iron curtain that the military have drawn around themselves over these past decades. SCAF receives $1.3 billion every year from US taxpayers, and they are the second largest recipient of US foreign aid after Israel.

Some Egyptians, or wide layers of the Egyptian public, supported the army in February, March, April and up until the summer for several reasons: some of them believed the army's lies that they protected the revolution. Others were just insecure – put yourself in the shoes of the average Egyptian citizen who is not ideological and who is just going about their daily life and suddenly everything around them is collapsing, and the alternative is not clear. For many Egyptians the army, as the propaganda went, was the last standing institution in Egypt – if the army collapses, Israel is going to invade, or Egypt itself is going to collapse. Actually, the army is playing the same 'anarchy' card as Mubarak, saying that if it steps down anarchy will be everywhere. And finally, the people were exhausted. Literally, everybody was exhausted. We went into an uprising of 18 days that lost so many people – it was very exhausting keeping the square and all the other squares organized around this movement. Everyone needed to catch their breath a little bit at the time. So, that's what I would attribute the kind of support that the army had.

Now, of course, the army did not protect the revolution. The only reason the army did not fire at protesters in Tahrir and elsewhere is that you have two armies: you have the army of the generals, and you have the army of the poor conscripts and the young officers who share the same plight and hardship as all other Egyptians. The generals understood quite well that if they gave the orders for the tanks to bomb us in Tahrir, this army would have collapsed – you would have gotten a mutiny or a refusal of orders. So, the generals were hoping that they would just stand still, be neutral, and the thugs would finish us, like what happened in the 'Battle of the Camel'. Now definitely they have been losing credit over the past months. The Egyptian people are not stupid! Yes, I might have supported the army today, but if I don't see them delivering and I find my own situation is just as bad as it was, or even getting worse than it was before the revolution, I'm bound to get disillusioned after a while. So, I would say definitely we're in a much better position than we were back in February in terms of the consciousness of the people.

AM: The Muslim Brotherhood's Freedom and Justice Party (FJP) is expected to perform very well in the elections, even more so than originally anticipated due to many people deciding to abstain or boycott the vote. What role do you see the Muslim Brotherhood playing in the Egyptian revolution right now and how does it contrast with the period of January and February?

HH: Their role did not differ anything from January or February. Remember that the Brotherhood leadership did not endorse the first three days of the uprising. They only endorsed it on the 'Friday of Anger' on the 28^th of January, when it became clear that whether they endorse it or not there is an uprising in effect. But their youth have been taking part in the protests from day one – or at least sections of their youth have been taking part, and their performance in Tahrir Square and elsewhere during the 18 days was no different from today. The youth played a heroic role in the confrontations with police in defending the square, and they had many martyrs. But the leadership was always trying to compromise during the 18 days.

From the 11^th of February when Mubarak fell, their leadership did not endorse any of the protests that happened over the past months, except about three: the one that was celebrating Mubarak's toppling that happened a week later, the 29^th of July, and this latest one on the 18^th of November. These are the only three mass protests that the Ikhwan endorsed. But the young members have been taking part in our protests, and there are people who are resigning and getting disillusioned. So, although their leadership is conservative and on occasions counterrevolutionary, their youth is a different story. And that's what I and other people on the secular Left are trying to bet on – that as this radicalization continues, there will be more splits in the Ikhwan and other religious groups.

AM: Egyptians are currently being portrayed as trapped between 'Islamists' on the one hand, and military rule under the SCAF on the other – as if these are the only two viable options available for Egypt. What role do you see liberals, working class people, as well as radicals needing to play at this critical stage in the revolution?

HH: This is the same scenario that Mubarak was trying to put forward when he was in power – you know, it's either me or these 'monsters' in beards; it's either me or anarchy. Politically, when you think about it, in terms of the elections, that may be the case – you either elect the NDP or you elect the 'Islamists' – but I'm talking here about politics on the ground. No, there are other alternatives. The revolutionary left has been making gains, massive gains, since January up until today in terms of increasing the scope of its influence and its physical presence on the ground. Our intervention in the industrial actions is definitely getting much more mature and much more organized than before. During this current uprising, from my position as a Revolutionary Socialist, I can say that my group played a much more organized and effective role than during the first days of the January uprising, when we were all taken by surprise. This time our intervention was much quicker, much faster.

The liberals are a completely different story. The liberals are divided. There are people like Naguib Sawiris, our Egyptian Rockefeller, who was a close ally of Mubarak and is now leading the Free Egyptians Party. According to an infamous interview with Bloomberg that he made last summer, when he was asked why he launched this party, he said it was because of the dominance of socialist ideas among young people – he didn't mention the Salafis or the Ikhwanis. He's a businessman who knows his own interests quite well. But there's a problem with the terminology because many of those liberals, people who describe themselves as liberals, are actually radical Leftists, but they don't know it – in the same way many 'Leftists' I consider liberals who have nothing to do with the Left.

But I believe the industrial actions that will come in the coming months will be even more militant than in the months before. Why? Because the SCAF has managed to raise the expectations of a layer of the population regarding this coming parliament – you told us to suspend protests; you told us to stop strikes; you told us Tahrir was bad; you told us to wait all these months so as to get a civilian cabinet that will miraculously solve all of our problems. Okay, well, we got our civilian parliament, and it can't do anything! This will ignite, I believe, a renewed wave of industrial actions.

AM: Can you provide an overview of the kind of left-oriented parties, groups, and coalitions that have emerged out of the Egyptian revolution since January 25^th, and what is your opinion of the progress being made on the organized political front compared with the level of grassroots resistance on the ground?

HH: The map is definitely getting bigger than it was before January 25^th. On the Left you have now the Socialist Popular Alliance, which is a political umbrella that also has beneath it several leftist factions. You have us, the Revolutionary Socialists, who are the biggest among the radical Left here in Egypt. You have the Democratic Workers' Party, which is a party that the Revolutionary Socialists are a part of the efforts to build (but it's not a Revolutionary Socialists party, because many people confuse the two). The Egyptian Communist Party was recently revived, and they came out in the public on the 1^st of May with red flags, but I know they are facing troubles because we are currently recruiting many of their youth. You have the Egyptian Socialist Party, launched by some figures from the 1970s student-activist generation. You also have the Egyptian Social Democratic Party – so, it's getting more mosaic-ish, if I can call it that.

You will find some people who will weep over a lack of unity among the Left, but you know, I really don't care that much about it. Why? Because we are 85 million people who have been kept under the lid for so long; once you open the lid it's very normal that everybody's going to come out, people are going to start forming groups, and maybe those groups are going to merge, or maybe they're going to split or morph into something bigger – it's not like in Canada where if you go to any activist event you'll find chairs for twelve leftist factions. Yes, you might mock them and say maybe this faction is only like three people in all of Canada, but it's a microcosm. If you have 85 million people, then why not have 12 different socialist parties. You can!

AM: And the organized political front versus grassroots resistance?

HH: It would be a sheer lie to try to claim that the current socialist forces, including us, are leading the strike wave or the grassroots resistance on the ground. You are definitely faced with the biggest strike wave that this country has seen since 1946; this strike wave that's been continuous from December 2006 up until today is the longest, strongest, and most sustained strike action wave in our history, since 1946. Even the 70s were not as strong as we are today. But again, these actions are happening largely spontaneously and independent from any activist groups. The activists groups have some presence in some of the mills, some of the factories, some of the workplaces, and some of the unions, but they are not running the show in any sense. We cannot claim that at all. So, the labour movement is taking mass leaps forward – they've achieved great victories in terms of successful strikes, getting rid of the old management in many of the factories that were affiliated with the old regime, forming independent unions, dissolving the corrupt unions that they had in some cases – but this is independent of the activist groups. The activist groups do have a presence in some places and they also played a heroic role in the mobilizations, but I think we still have a very long way to go in order to provide real leadership on the ground for the Egyptian working class.

AM:You have been a revolutionary activist here in Egypt for many years and have stated in the past that only a general strike will ultimately topple the ruling military regime once and for all. Can you describe the state of the Egyptian workers' struggle at this point, including some of the key strikes and actions that have happened in recent months, and what you believe will be required to galvanize workers across sectors towards staging a general strike under the current conditions?

HH: When Mubarak was toppled on the 11^th of February and the middle class and most of the youth groups were more than happy to suspend the Tahrir sit-in and there were calls for everybody to go back to work amidst all of this nationalist propaganda – you know, 'let's build a new Egypt' and 'put 110 percent of your effort into work' – the working class did not go. A journalist like myself, I can afford not showing up to work for 18 days, but then go back to my editorial position where I will get several thousand Egyptian pounds a month. But a public transport worker cannot basically suspend his strike and go back home to his kids and tell them, “I'm still getting paid 189 Egyptian pounds after fifteen years of service; let's wait for another six months while the ruling military junta gives us a civilian cabinet so as to solve all our problems.”

According to a labour organizer friend of mine, you witnessed at least 1,500 industrial actions in February alone, which is the total amount of all industrial actions in 2010. Now, these actions continued in February through March, and went down a little bit in April, May, and June. But then you had September, which was probably the month that had the biggest hit in terms of strikes, where roughly three quarters of a million Egyptians took part in a strike; they were mainly in the public transport sector, the teachers, the doctors, and the sugar refineries. Here we are only mentioning the major blocs, but you opened up the newspaper at the time and all these wildcat strikes were happening everywhere.

We did not witness any strike actions in solidarity with Tahrir in this uprising; it is true that the Egyptian Federation of Independent Trade Unions, and some independent unions, supported Tahrir and they had their banners there and a symbolic presence there, but they didn't mobilize full scale. My explanation for this is that, on the one hand, the Independent Federation is still not rooted enough so as to be able to put together a general strike; and number two, the working class is usually the last class to move – it's very easy for the youth and the radicals to just leave their family or university for a month to go to Tahrir and set up a camp. If you're a worker and you have four kids and you're working a 9 to 5, and sometimes even a 9 to 7 job, to put together a strike action is a completely different story. They are usually the last to move, but when they move it's game over.

What I and other radicals in the movement were hoping for in this November uprising was that if we kept the occupation going for a little bit longer this militancy would start spilling over to the working class, just like January. Now, of course, it's not going to just happen by some miracle from the sky. In the places where we had an industrial presence we distributed tens of thousands of leaflets in support of the general strike, but, once again, you don't have the national structure here in Egypt – yet – that can pull together this move, so if it happens it's going to be spontaneous, or you can hope to trigger it somehow. But when they tell you that Egypt is not Tunisia it is true! Tunisia had their federation of trade unions whose leadership was co-opted, but it's body was quite healthy, so this meant that when you had the revolution there was so much pressure on the unions to move – and when they move they can bring the country to a halt. Here in Egypt you don't have this structure.

The general strike is coming. I have no doubt about this; what you don't know is what's going to be the outcome of the general strike. But the ball is in our court – can we push it left or right, that's what we'll see. At the moment there are several important protests taking place, mainly in Alexandria. Tomorrow in Cairo there will be a protest in front of the State Council in Dokki on Giza Street – it's called Magles Al-Dawla – where workers from two privatized factories are going to show up for a court case to demand the re-nationalization of their companies – which they already won, by the way. That's the other problem: even when you have a strike that reaches victory it never means that the government is going to fulfill its promises. Just pick and choose the name of any company that's right now on strike and I will tell you that they have been on strike since 2009, or even 2007!

AM: Due to the growing instability, uncertainty, and unrest the country has witnessed in recent months, it seems that Tahrir Square is becoming increasingly alienated from the wider society in a way we did not find during the early days of the Egyptian revolution. What does all of this mean for the future of Tahrir Square as a central hub of the revolution in your view?

HH: I think this is a bit exaggerated what you're saying. Tahrir Square is for sure the symbol of this revolution but we will not fall into the trap of taking Tahrir as a barometer for how the revolution is progressing or regressing. That's what we've been saying to activists for the past months who have been demoralized. For example, you call for a 'Million Man Protest' in Tahrir to denounce military tribunals and only a few hundred show up, so you get demoralized. But at the same time, within the same month, you have 750,000 Egyptians going on strike and, in effect, destroying the emergency law. Even if they didn't show up at your own protest in Tahrir Square, they effectively broke the emergency law.

I've been in situations where I would be with a cab driver and he would be all the way slagging off on the people in Tahrir, but then he drops me off in order to go and join a sit-in by other cab drivers in front of the Finance Ministry here in Nasr City. Yes, workers would not show up for Tahrir, but they would show up two blocks away at the Cabinet headquarters, blocking the road and defying the military police – even clashing with them on occasions – to demand their own rights. Tahrir will always be there, and it will be killed again like in January at some point in the future. When? I don't know, but the revolution is much bigger than the scope of Tahrir.

For me, whatever happens on the university campuses and in the workplaces is even much more important than Tahrir. If you're a Mahalla worker and I see in you in Tahrir, I will tell you, “What the hell are you doing with me in Tahrir? Go back to your own factory and try to purge the NDP and the security officials that you have. Try to take over your own factory and self-manage it!”

AM: What do you see as the most important political challenges currently facing the Egyptian revolution?

HH: The biggest political challenge is, number one, the fact that we have Mubarak's army generals still running the show, which in effect means that the regime is still alive and well. The other political challenge is from the dissidents, which is that we are not organized enough. We still lack the national mobilization structure that can pull together a general strike when we want it, so what we can always do in these situations is to call for a protest, but we don't know how many people are going to show up. Yes, you can get signs, you can predict that it's going to be a big day or small day, but the biggest challenge for us is building this mass political revolutionary party, or call it a network or whatever, that will link the workplaces together to the university campuses and to Tahrir.

AM: Finally, at a time when the global Occupy movement is rapidly growing across North America and Europe, influenced largely by Egypt and the other uprisings across the Arab world, what do you think are the main lessons – positive and negative – activists and ordinary people committed to social change should take away from the experience of the Egyptian revolution?

HH: There is only one lesson, actually: if your movement remains confined to the square than you're not going to succeed. You have to take this movement from the square to the workplaces and the university campuses. We did not topple Mubarak in Tahrir. Yes, Tahrir was a heroic battle, a heroic sit-in, and a heroic occupation, which will definitely go down in history as one of the most fantastic struggles that happened this century, but at the same time, the regime could have held out; Mubarak could have stayed in power for a much longer time if it wasn't for the labour strikes that broke out. So, I'm very proud of our colleagues and brothers and sisters who have taken part in the Occupy movement everywhere, but they have to link their struggle to the workplaces. If they don't bring in the working class – which is a big challenge, and I'm not saying it's something easy – then this movement is going to die.

Hossam El-Hamalawy is an Egyptian journalist, photographer, and socialist activist from Cairo who maintains the popular blog: www.arabawy.org

Ali Mustafa is a freelance journalist, writer, and media activist. He is currently based in Cairo, Egypt. His writing can be found at: http://frombeyondthemargins.blogspot.com

Comment: 'Editorial on the Crisis in Libya: Caught Between Qadafi and Imperialism'

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Sun, 03 Apr 2011 07:17:00 +0000

The editorial to which this comment is directed can be found on the New Socialist webzine.

By Ali Mustafa

"If imperialist powers are able to impose their will in Libya, it will be a blow to the revolutionary wave in the country and beyond."

Yes, but so too would a massacre of rebels and civilians by Gadhafi forces.

This position puts us in a bit of a bind, does it not?

Obviously Western powers are guided by their own overall interests, but just because they choose not to intervene everywhere does it necessarily follow that they should not intervene anywhere, ever? This editorial fails to seriously explore this important question.

While it is necessary to continue to point out everything wrong about the UN no-fly zone and the wider intervention it has allowed, I think it is a mistake, at this point, to take any definitive stance on the issue without putting forward a viable alternative - hence why I was in the minority amongst the other editors about the final published version of this editorial, which for me misses some very key nuances to an earlier version I preferred (and is now posted on my website here).

Unless a realistic and practicable alternative is offered - or those of us of fighting age and ability are ready to board the next airplane to Libya to join the resistance - we should seriously caution any reflexive and outright rejection of the intervention, much less turn to harsh public denunciations of anyone on the Left who happens to be in support of it (ie. Gilbert Achcar).

The reality is clear: first, the majority of us do not even pretended to have any such alternatives to offer; second, even if we did, we do not at this time have nearly the necessary capacity, influence, or popular will to do anything about it. Western powers have made the fateful decision to intervene and, sadly, we can do nothing but engage in a public debate about an issue over which we have absolutely no real impact.

Furthermore, simply taking a stance 'for' or 'against' the no-fly zone already suggests it to be a legitimate debate to have in the first place, and allows the Western powers who are involved in the operation to limit the parameters of the discussion for us on their terms. The longer we spend debating the no-fly zone, the less time we are actually dedicating to putting forward actual alternatives - exactly everything that makes the Left so weak, marginalized, and largely irrelevant today concerning issues of such vital importance as the crisis in Libya.

Where does that leave us? We need to begin considering far more proactive solutions. If the Left and other broadly aligned forces made it a key priority to oppose the sale of weapons to despots like Gadhafi we could have very well avoided the current crisis.

A serious regulation of the global arms trade may serve as a key strategy looking forward, and one that appeals far beyond the already radical Left. A colleague of mine recently suggested that the argument is not a very sound one because we should also be opposed in principle to Canada and other Western powers having such weapons. While I obviously share that sentiment, the major difference is that one suggestion is purely idealistic, while the other is actually a realistic, strategically effective, and universally supportable demand around which a solid grassroots campaign could conceivably be built. A call to regulate the global arms trade would also bring no foreseeable negative impact on Libyans, or any given civilian population (which merely supporting or opposing a no-fly zone incidentally both do).

Why, after all, should foreign military intervention be both the start and end point of the debate?

I am also not convinced by the argument to arm the rebels; we have seen on too many occasions the US and other global powers try to play both sides in a conflict - in this case, arming Gadhafi with one hand, and now trying to arm the rebels to overthrow him with the other. Such a strategy only further militarizes the conflict when we should instead be exploring ways to peacefully bring it to an end. If the US decides to go ahead and arm the rebels, not only will troops or operatives of some kind need to be brought in to train them, but it will only add to the real risk of civil war and, ultimately, partition.

I find it very irresponsible (but mostly a gesture of genuine desperation) for anyone to be calling for an increase to the flow of arms in a war zone. The proposal to arm the rebels only serves the purpose of reducing everything to a military solution, upholding the status quo as a result (it is thus no coincidence that the US is so seriously considering it). Granted, the rebels may not be the Afghan Mujahideen of the 1980s, but can we realistically expect that these arms will be abandoned after Gadhafi is finally ousted from power?

Whatever their overall aims and interests may be, the rebels we are so eager to support in any way possible today will be the new military overlord in charge of maintaining 'order' and 'stability' at the barrel of a gun tomorrow, just as the West would like to see it. It is typically those outside of war, or in the business of war, who are the ones most readily open to such solutions, although in this particular case some of the key proponents have rather curiously been important voices of the Left.

Now that this operation has clearly evolved into something far beyond a mere no-fly zone, we need to be ready to offer something in the way of solidarity to the Libyan resistance that is a lot better than what we have been able to do until now. What will that look like? Canada has a federal election coming soon; we may want to consider using PM Harper's involvement in the NATO operation in Libya as an opportunity to discuss the military budget at home and weapons sales abroad as an election issue, in the context of the wider global arms trade.

No, it is not a very radical approach, but until I hear something better from the Left I am willing to entertain any and all ideas that may help move us forward.

The Crisis in Libya: Caught between Qadafi and Imperialism

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 06:18:00 +0000

Below is the original draft of an article about the current crisis in Libya that was co-written by myself as an editorial for the New Socialist webzine, where I am an editor. Because of some very minor political differences with the other editors, the final version that was published on the website is different in several ways from the piece as I originally intended it, particularly with regards to the slant of the final conclusions drawn. My preferred version being posted here reflects what I see as the appropriate tone, political nuances, and general complexity of the debate at hand. My goal here, somewhat different from the published editorial, is less about taking a definitive stance as it is about hoping to contribute in whatever way possible to the wider debate. Where my preferred version happens to diverge from the one published by the New Socialist webzine, all views expressed are my own and not necessarily those of the other editors. As always, any thoughts, questions, or comments are most welcome.

By Ali Mustafa

The current popular uprising against Colonel Qadafi in Libya is part of a wider revolutionary wave occurring all across the Middle East and North Africa that deserves our unconditional support. Any victory of the Qadafi regime over the rebellion would no doubt represent a devastating blow not only to Libya's own future but to the revolutionary process in the region as a whole. As NATO's no-fly zone over Libya increasingly looks to transform into a long and protracted military operation, it is important now for social justice advocates across Canada, of all viewpoints, to reflect critically upon why the decision to intervene was made, who exactly stands to benefit, and what the likely consequences will be.

On March 17, 2011 the UN Security Council overwhelmingly passed resolution 1973, authorizing “all necessary measures” short of a full military ground invasion to protect Libyan civilians from further aerial attacks by Qadafi forces. NATO has since responded by carrying out several heavy air strikes in both eastern and western Libya, quickly becoming part of the war itself and bringing additional risk to the very same civilians whose lives they are supposedly there to protect. Whether we happen to like it or not, in reality the decision to impose a no-fly zone over Libya is, by default, a declaration of war. US Secretary of Defense Robert Gates suggested as much weeks prior to US involvement in the operation, stating bluntly: “Let's just call a spade a spade. A no-fly zone begins with an attack on Libya.”

Does the threat of an impending massacre of civilians by Qadafi forces justify a Western-led foreign military intervention that is almost certain to only escalate rather than stop or drastically reduce the violence? This is a dilemma of serious moral weight and responsibility that clearly yields no easy or comfortable answers for anyone, including the the radical, anti-imperialist Left. Yet the simple reality remains that a 'humanitarian' and a 'military' solution are two entirely different objectives. If the purpose of the NATO operation in Libya was genuinely of a humanitarian nature, the priority would be anchored towards evacuating civilians from major battlezones rather than simply adding to the ongoing bombing assault. Since NATO has assumed full control over military operations in Libya, several civilian centres in eastern and western Libya have already been bombed at will with little, if any, regard for the toll on civilian life.

Explicit calls for a no-fly zone by elements of the Libyan resistance on the ground have only compounded the present moral dilemma, further polarizing the ongoing debate in the process. Although under the current circumstances it is perfectly clear why many rebel forces and even civilians have supported the no-fly zone, very little is actually known about who comprises the Benghazi-based National Transitional Council, what overall level of popular legitimacy it can justifiably claim, and if it can indeed speak on behalf of the majority of civilians across the country. As such, solidarity with the resistance in Libya should not necessarily mean an alignment with any specific political factions or their demands, especially while so much remains unknown about who they are and what their overall aims and objectives may be once Qadafi is finally ousted from power.

Because no two cases are ever exactly alike, we should be careful not to dismiss foreign military intervention out of hand as an automatic first principle. Instead, we should be willing to respond to each scenario on an individual case-by-case basis. Yet the consequences of this no-fly zone will not be borne by any of us in the West whose governments are involved in the operation but by the Libyan people alone. While we may be able to regret our position in the future, the Libyan people with whom we want to show solidarity will not be afforded the same luxury. Any outside calls for a Western-led foreign military intervention must keep this single fact in mind.

We would do well to remember at this time the recent case studies of Iraq (1991) and Yugoslavia (1999) where not only did we see civilian casualties continue to soar following foreign military intervention but, in fact, some of the worst atrocities in both respective countries occurred directly under the cover of no-fly zones.

It should also come as no surprise that a no-fly zone was so readily agreed to in Libya but decisively not in Lebanon in 2006, Gaza in 2008/2009, or Pakistan where a US drone attack killed another 40 innocent civilians just last week. Whatever your position on the no-fly zone, the blatant hypocrisy dictating when Western powers choose to intervene or not is only too clear. The Qadafi regime was just as morally insupportable in the 1980s while still an official enemy of the West as it was in the 2000s following a rapprochement with these very same Western powers.

In return for acting as a steady bulwark against the rise of 'Islamic extremism' in the region and helping keep undocumented migrants from Sub-Saharan Africa out of Europe, Qadafi has been able to enjoy years of significant Western financial, diplomatic, and military support that has allowed him to consolidate his grip on power. The fact that the ongoing operation is currently led by NATO forces who are largely responsible for arming Qadafi is fundamentally part of the problem and should not go ignored.

Why then intervene in Libya now? Western powers are not guided by morality but political and economic interests. NATO forces have not entered the war in Libya out of any particular concern for civilian life but rather to advance their own given strategic objectives in the region: first, to gain a semblance of Western legitimacy that can compensate in some small way for the imperialist policy failures of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Israel/Palestine; second, to establish close relations with the National Transitional Council government under whom foreign oil interests can remain protected; and third, to secure a carefully guided transition to a 'democratic regime' that leaves no room for an independent course of action led by Libyans themselves. UN resolution 1973 is, in effect, little more than a 'rubber-stamp' policy for regime change that seeks to subordinate the revolutionary wave taking place in Libya and beyond to the West's own sphere of domination.

Arab League participation in enforcing the no-fly zone over Libya hardy brings the operation any added measure of legitimacy, as many of these countries are themselves now facing – and violently suppressing – similar popular uprisings at home. As a result, these Arab client-regimes have just as much of a vested interest as their Western benefactors in curbing the revolutionary wave currently sweeping the region – if not more so.

But what if the no-fly zone proves successful after all and Qadafi's air power is completely defeated, as increasingly looks to be the case? Will NATO terminate the operation or further escalate the war with a ground invasion where Qadafi forces have always been most dangerous anyway? The 1986 US air strikes in Libya under US President Ronald Reagan were supposed to be restricted exclusively to military targets, yet over 100 people were killed – the vast majority of whom were civilians. How can we assume the results will be any different now?

Furthermore, even if the operation remains limited to a no-fly zone it may still very well produce the negative outcome of only further entrenching Qadafi's power as the situation on the ground transforms from a scenario of civil war into one of an embattled regime versus a rebel force led by a foreign invading enemy. Such a result would play directly into Qadafi's hands, only reinforcing his appeal for wider support among the people in his current stronghold of Tripoli.

Unfortunately, the ongoing debate about the no-fly zone has been falsely polarized between an 'internationalist' tendency that advocates Western humanitarian intervention, and an 'isolationist' tendency that advocates leaving the Arabs to fight for themselves – in other words, using military force or simply doing nothing. Neither of these options represents a position of actual solidarity with the Libyan resistance or opposition to imperialism. In reality, there exists considerable space beyond these two unhelpful extremes. Were the global arms trade sufficiently regulated to prevent brutal despots like Qadafi from acquiring such weaponry in the first place, the debate about the no-fly zone would be entirely moot.

While we can by no means sit idly by as Qadafi forces threaten to carry out a massacre, neither should we rush to advocate the use of military force in Libya by Western powers operating under the familiar guise of 'humanitarian intervention.' Indeed, the NATO operation already goes far beyond the defined limits of the original no-fly zone, with no clear endgame in sight. A moral opposition to the current operation is one that remains sensitive to the attendant dangers of the reality on the ground while cautioning calls for a course of action that will only bring additional risk to civilian life and continue to serve foreign interests over those of the Libyan people. A consensus in this important ongoing debate may not be possible, but a sound rejection of any path that simply leaves us caught between Qadafi and imperialism is a good place to start.

From Democracy to Tyranny: Where Athenian Democracy Went Wrong

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 22:59:00 +0000

In the spirit of the revolutionary uprisings occuring all across the 'Arab World' I am sharing this piece I wrote about one particular model of democracy way back in 2006. I am not ashamed of it one bit, either! I welcome any feedback and comments with reference to the subject of 'democracy,' both historically or in a contemporary context.

By Ali Mustafa

Athenian democracy is widely accredited with the distinction of being the first known democracy, serving as the inspirational basis for many democratic models to follow. The degree of direct self-governance in ancient Athens was unprecedented and in many ways still remains unsurpassed. Widespread participation of the demos in legislative and judicial matters was the hallmark of Athenian democracy as well as its most lauded quality. Unlike modern ‘democracies’ where political influence never extends beyond the mere casting of a ballot, failing to regularly participate in administrative affairs in ancient Athens was seen as a gross violation of ones 'civic duty.' As Pericles, a notable Athenian demagogue, once declared: “We do not say that a man who takes no interest in politics is a man who minds his own business; we say that he has no business here at all” (Held 2006, 14).

The matter of just who was allowed to participate, however, proves to be where the merits of Athenian democracy stall and its due praise ends. Athenian democracy was a relatively stable and successful system of governance for two centuries not because of its extraordinary level of mass participation but rather in spite of it. While citizens were appreciatively neither bound by wealth or property qualifications, citizenship was restricted entirely to free adult males of strictly Athenian descent – the exclusivity of which virtually rendered Athens (whose population was estimated to be somewhere between 100, 000 – 400, 000 or more) at the complete mercy of a mere 30, 000 men (Samons 2004, 20). The question must then be posed: was Athenian democracy even a democracy at all? Metics, women, and slaves were all barred from citizenship, thus from political life altogether.

Aside from the fact that the citizenry only constituted a small minority of the overall population, it seems that Athenian politics were notably also dominated by the wealthy and those of high birth. According to David Held, author of Models of Democracy, “Since power was not structured by a firm constitutional and governmental system, political battles often took a highly personal form, often ending in the physical removal of opponents through ostracism or death” (Held 2006, 23). It is difficult then, for the abovementioned reasons, to classify ancient Athens during this period as anything other than a 'tyranny of the citizens.'

The breadth of direct political participation by the citizen body, in the form of the Assembly, was truly remarkable and is not to be minimized. The Assembly would meet at least 40 times a year with a quorum of 6, 000 citizens (the minimum amount necessary in attendance to pass a vote) to discuss various legislative and judicial matters as well as those related to foreign policy (Held 2006, 17). The responsibility for setting the agenda and the general organization of Assembly meetings was assigned to a council of 500, who were further subdivided into a committee of 50 (alternating monthly) and headed by a president who would oversee the proceedings (holding office for only 1 day). As elaborate and sophisticated as the administrative system in place no doubt was, through its exclusion of metics, women, and slaves from active citizenship, Athenian democracy fundamentally undermined the very democratic principles it contended to uphold.

Metics (foreign-born inhabitants) were a minimal yet industrious sector of the Athenian population, and excluding women from the citizenry had to have eliminated roughly 50 percent of the entire population alone; however, it was the slave population among the excluded that was perhaps the most vital and indispensable to the continuation of Athenian democracy. Slaves numbered anywhere from 80 – 100, 000 and were the chief source of labor in ancient Athens, thus allowing citizens (especially poorer ones) more free time to devote to political life (Held 2006, 12). Without slaves to provide the very bedrock upon which Athenian democracy was based, mass participation on the scale that it took place would have been rendered virtually impossible.

The ‘tyranny of the citizens’ was not only rooted in glaring omissions of representation within the citizen body, but rather in far more cunning (and undemocratic) methods of securing an uncontested monopoly on political power. The procedure of ostracism was a course of action taken in ancient Athens by which, if so decided, a member of the citizenry could be expelled from the polis for a period of up to 10 years, thus effectively ending his political career (Forsdyke 2005, 149). Although he retained his citizenship, his property was not confiscated, and he could return without stigma after serving his ten years in exile, the penalty for an ostracized person caught trying to reenter Athens prematurely was death. The fact that ostracisms were limited to one annually does little to diminish its ruthlessness.

Ostracism, albeit employed only sparingly, was usually reserved for settling deadlocked disputes between two prominent and politically active citizens (again, typically the rich or well born) as well as occasions in which such a citizen was suspected of being a potential tyrant or traitor. Suspicion alone was grounds enough to hold an ostracism with a vote of just 6, 000 needed for it to take effect. In this way, demagogues, by appealing directly to the prejudices of the masses, could prevail and have political opponents easily eliminated. The prevalence of such intra-elite rivalries characterized by lobbying and pandering to the public to gain political favor is well noted by Sara Forsdyke, author of Exile, Ostracism, and Democracy, who states, “In all likelihood, there were a number of elite politicians who formed and reformed alliances with one or another over an ever-changing series of issues as they struggled to maximize their personal influence in the state” (Forsdyke 2005, 170). In other words, even if ostracism was intended as a means of easily resolving ideological clashes or weeding out tyrants, it served better still as a tool within and between elite factions to eliminate political rivals by facilitating purges of any meaningful opposition.

The degree to which the ‘tyranny of the citizens’ dominated Athenian politics was substantial and its implications were far reaching; however, manipulating Athenian democracy was one thing, while sustaining it was entirely another. If slavery provided the labor source necessary for citizens to freely engage in public service, and ostracism allowed for the convenient expulsion of political opponents, then the success of democratic Athens as a 'conquest-state' can be seen as the glue that pieced it all together. Military conquest not only offered the Athenian empire much needed stability amid a volatile Assembly, but also a renewed source of slave laborers and the funds needed to pay the salaries of public officials (Samons 2004, 44).

Because the Athenian empire was so dependent on the spoils of war to fund its democracy, it made no serious efforts to avoid looming conflicts with enemy or hostile states (initially, Persia and later, Sparta) and in fact deliberately pursued an aggressive foreign policy. The overarching need to engage in hasty, unreasoned wars overextended troops and alienated allies. As Loren Samons, author of What’s Wrong with Democracy, aptly recounts:

…the Athenians raised the amount of tribute demanded from their allies to at least twice its previous level, tightened control of that tribute payment and management of the empire in general, began to tax Athens’s wealthier citizens when the immense war chest under Pericles began to dissipate, voted for the mass execution of all male citizens and enslavement of the women and children of states revolting from the Athenian empire, and refused Spartan offers of peace on favorable terms (Samons 2004, 132).

In light of the abovementioned facts, is it any wonder then that Athenian democracy took the tyrannical form that it did? It was an impossible system to sustain any other way.

Athenian democracy’s continued existence hinged largely upon its exclusivity, thus, was fatally flawed from its inception. While political accountability was located in the demos – one that surely extended itself to encompass more of the populace than ever before – it was exactly this mark of distinction that was both its strength and greatest liability. By failing to grant metics, woman, and slaves equal rights, Athenian democracy essentially gave wealthy demagogues free rein to manipulate and exploit a significantly smaller, more vulnerable electorate. As much promise as the most celebrated democracy possessed, tyranny can ultimately be attributed as the source of its undoing. We are only left now to wonder what might have been.

'No Fare is Fair': A Roundtable with Members of the Greater Toronto Workers' Assembly Transit Committee

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 15:10:00 +0000

Znet

photo credit: John Bonnar

By Ali Mustafa

The Greater Toronto Workers' Assembly (GTWA) is a promising new initiative aiming to build a united, non-sectarian, and militant anti-capitalist movement in the city among a diversity of rank-and-file labour unionists, grassroots community organizers, and youth alike. Since the GTWA's inception in early 2010, mass public transit has emerged as one of the organization's key political battlegrounds. In this in-depth roundtable discussion, members of the GTWA's transit committee Jordy Cummings, Lisa Leinveer, Leo Panitch, Kamilla Pietrzyk, and Herman Rosenfeld explore both the opportunities and obstacles facing the campaign Towards a Free and Accessible TTC.

Towards a Free and Accessible TTC became the first major campaign adopted by the GTWA. Why is mass public transit a key priority to the work and overall vision of the GTWA?

Herman Rosenfeld: Actually, it took about two assemblies before we endorsed this campaign. We took some time to evaluate different possible campaigns and, after that, we decided to choose transit as a priority. All working people – all people, really – should have the right to mobility and shouldn’t have to pay for it like any commodity. It should also be accessible to all people and not doled out according to how much money you have, which part of the city you happen to live in, or whether or not you are living with a disability. If we want to politicize people by putting forward a vision of a different kind of society, free and accessible transit has to be a part of that strategy.

The campaign also poses a vision of public transit that is 'non-commodified' – that is, not something that is bought or sold in the marketplace but exists as a service and public good that is not owned or managed by private business interests seeking to make a profit. A similar vision motivated people to create public Medicare in Canada. In mobilizing people and doing education around the need to make public transit a right that is accessible and fare-free, this campaign forces us to address current attitudes about taxes, public-sector spending, and austerity by not only understanding them but challenging the legitimacy of the neoliberal ideas behind them.

Jordy Cummings: The GTWA is a new kind of political organization, in recognition of the limitations of the past. One of the ways we can open up space for an anti-capitalist vision that is shared by diverse elements of the Left is to start with something deceptively simple like free and accessible transit, and from there you begin to get an entire vision of a de-commodified social order. It's not just a 'single issue' campaign; it's a campaign that fundamentally challenges capitalist social relations from a working class, transit-using standpoint.

But what about those who live in the outlying regions of Toronto who are either forced to buy private automobiles or take ninety minutes or more to get to work because of the poorly planned transit routes? Most people in Toronto use transit every day to go to work and come home, so fighting for free and accessible transit is a fundamental issue to address a broader anti-capitalist vision overall.

Kamilla Pietrzyk: This campaign also arose in part from the energies around the Right to the City campaign and the recognition that organizing around the issue of transit can have great popular appeal right now because so many residents of Toronto are upset about the recent fare-hikes. While transit systems in other large metropolitan areas get large government subsidies to cover their costs, Toronto's transit system relies on user fees for approximately 70 percent of its operating budget, causing fares to rise to $3.00 in 2010. As a result, there has been a lot of dissatisfaction regarding the state of transit in the city. We believe that by building a effective campaign around free and accessible transit, we can direct that anger and frustration around fare-hikes to include an analysis of public goods, public accountability, the failures of the market system, and the right to democratic participation in the shaping of our city. A free transit campaign has the potential to be a popular movement because it has clear and tangible links to the daily experiences of many people, especially those with low income.

What type of groundwork has been done to date by the GTWA transit committee to help build the campaign across the city – including any education, outreach, and public events – and what has been the general response to these efforts thus far?

Kamilla Pietrzyk: So far we have organized a number of large public events and held a series of smaller flyering actions at major TTC stations. The larger events include a public forum on Free and Accessible TTC in July 2010, which involved a number of speakers from transit-related groups and initiatives. We also held a street party in Christie Pits Park in October 2010, which was the official launch of the campaign and featured speakers, musical performances, food, and general festivities. Both of these events were successful in stimulating further debate around transit issues in Toronto and mobilizing new support for the campaign. Our more mundane organizing has focused on engaging with people at TTC stations, giving out pamphlets and talking to them about transit in Toronto. The response from the public has been very supportive. The vast majority think that free and accessible transit is a tremendous idea; their only reservation tends to be around the question of how to fund it. But even on this point, many of them become sympathetic once they find out that for the $1 billion wasted on security during the G20 summit in Toronto last summer, we could have enjoyed free transit for a full year.

We intend to continue our public outreach work through ongoing flyering efforts. We have also been inspired by the popularity of the Bad Hotel Youtube video, where a group of activists infiltrated Westin St. Francis hotel in San Francisco and performed an adaptation of Lady Gaga's song Bad Romance in support of the workers' struggle to secure a fair contract. We recently developed a set of Guerrilla theatre scripts to be performed in conjunction with the GTWA's cultural committee on streetcars, buses, and subways.

Are you linked in any way yet with other groups in the city also campaigning around the issue of mass public transit (fare-free seeking or not) in order to build a ‘broad-based movement’ on this front?

Herman Rosenfeld: We have organized joint events with DAMN 2025, a group working for full accessibility of public transit and people living with disabilities; and Sistering, who have been agitating for lower fares. Surprisingly, there aren’t all that many movements dealing with fare issues.

What do you have to say to those who argue that free and accessible mass transit is a wonderful idea in principle but in reality too unrealistic or impractical, especially during a major period of recession?

Jordy Cummings: That's not an easy question to answer, but we do need to take free and accessible transit as a first principle. On a concrete level, given the amount of money the state (let alone private markets) spend on jails, the G20 Summit security budget, and military armaments, there is certainly enough money available for free and accessible transit to become a reality. But there is also immense pressure for austerity in the other direction.

As a union activist, I learned that you need to demand more than you think you're going to get, so fighting austerity by merely demanding that the status quo is maintained isn't going to cut it. 'Be realistic, demand the impossible,' as the saying goes.

Lisa Leinveer: I would agree with Jordy, and add that for many people with disabilities and their allies, both fare accessibility and physical accessibility of public transit is a first principle. A physically accessible transit system is not an extravagant accommodation. Not having an accessible transit system is a form of social segregation. For many people in Toronto, transit is the only option to get from one place to another across the city, and yet close to 30 percent of TTC bus routes, 50 percent of subway stations, and 100 percent of streetcars are totally physically inaccessible. Transit is a public good; it should be accessible to all the people of a city.

Herman Rosenfeld: For the powers that run this city and country – and the business community in general – this will never be practical or desirable, recession or not. But it does challenge many basic assumptions of living under neoliberalism: there isn’t enough money to go around and pay for transit as a social service; the current recession requires austerity, rather than expanding public services; taxes are already too high, so we have to shrink the size of government, and so on. These notions need to be challenged as part of a political and ideological assault on the 'common sense' of this era of capitalism. Fighting for free and accessible transit forces us to do so.

In another way, we also need to fight for shorter-term reforms that can give us confidence for ultimately demanding more expansive goals. We can call for cuts to current fares, dramatic increases in the levels of service, and democratic control over the larger planning processes – this would allow us to hone in on specific ways of increasing services for particular communities and build a base for a larger campaign. Of course, even raising these rather short-term demands also requires us to respond to the same set of concerns that people raise about the longer-term ones.

Leo Panitch: Everything from schools to libraries to healthcare to water services is paid for by tax revenue. Roads don’t have user fees – why should public transit? We can pay for free transit through a fair tax system. The amount of taxes that riders would have to pay for fare-free transit would be much lower than the amount that they spend each year on the cost of commuting. Even those who drive cars are prepared to pay taxes for less traffic – and there is no better way to do this than by expanded and free public transit. Harper’s government is spending money on building new prisons and buying the military new fighter planes for $35 billion for no useful purpose. All sorts of tax breaks are given to the oil and gas industry as it threatens our environment. Is this how we want our taxes spent? We need to make our tax dollars benefit the common good and make our governments provide fare-free transit!

Since former Premier of Ontario Mike Harris saw all provincial and federal subsidies to the TTC cut in 1996, the TTC’s financial viability has been entirely dependent on municipal funding and user fees (the latter comprising 70 percent of the revenue base). Assuming increased property taxes alone cannot make up the shortfall, how exactly do you envision the project for free TTC service being funded?

Herman Rosenfeld: Harris didn’t cut federal subsidies – that was the result of the abandonment of city life by the Liberal and Conservative governments of Chretien, Martin and Harper. Public transit should be funded by a combination of municipal taxes, federal and provincial funding, and contributions through driver tolls. Property taxes are unfair and limited. Cities like Toronto need new sources of taxation, such as a city income tax. The rates for federal and provincial income taxes can be made fair by lowering them on the bottom-end and increasing them for large, wealthy corporations, as well as those that receive huge bonuses in the financial sector.

Most importantly, the needs of people in cities must become a priority of state financing – this is a question of priorities between giving subsidies to private capital in the hope that wealthy investors will be bribed into creating low-paying jobs, or using the resources created by working people to serve our collective needs and, in the process, creating high-paying, secure, and environmentally friendly employment.

Capital costs (building new lines and infrastructure) can be financed through bond issues, which is another way for describing borrowing on international bond markets. The possibilities of doing this are dependent on the belief that we can pay those bonds back over time through revenues derived by tax dollars, and the new economic activity that a massive new transit system would create.

Leo Panitch: The transportation sector that is so central to Ontario's whole economy is in crisis. This crisis is obvious from auto industry shutdowns and layoffs and the notorious traffic congestion on our roads. We need to change the old car plants so people get jobs producing the mass transit vehicles needed for a free and accessible public transit system. Just as the original subways, and the street cars and buses too, were funded by issuing Ontario bonds, so can this be done today. The very low interest rates make it less costly to do this than ever before, while the new jobs provided will expand the tax base. Far from placing a burden on future generations, this would guarantee them a future. And we also need to be able to rely on our banks to direct funds to shifting the whole transportation sector towards public transit. The money we put in our banking system should be used to meet our society's real needs.

It’s time for a wider vision for our city. Free public transit will help create the healthier, cleaner and better integrated neighbourhoods we all want. And rather than pitting public transit workers against riders, it will help create a public transit community committed to excellent service and accessibility for all. We all want more and better public transit, less road traffic, fewer accidents, cleaner air and greater mobility.

Your campaign material sites several cities across North America currently operating under zero user-fees, including Commerce, California; Chapel Hill, North Carolina; and Coral Gables, Florida. But since all of these cities are significantly smaller in size than Toronto, is it possible that Toronto is simply too large for this kind of project to be feasible?

Herman Rosenfeld: I think this reflects the political difficulties of getting this kind of project on the public

agenda in big cities, rather than any technical or other obstacles. Cities are the center of neoliberal economies, particularly with the dominance of finance and private-sector development in major urban centres. This kind of campaign challenges the nature of how those places are organized and structured, which is why they seem so difficult to move on. Smaller centres that are geared around colleges or tourism don’t present the same challenges.

Lisa Leinveer: We can also learn much about how accessible transit can be done by looking to examples of other transit systems in the world. Many newer transit systems are far more accessible. A study of different transit technologies globally yields many innovative approaches to transit that prioritize physical access and green technology; among these are Curitiba’s high-speed accessible bus system, and variations on the Light Rail Transit (LRT) system that was proposed in Toronto and has been implemented in many cities around the world. Although no system is perfect, the successes and limitations of various systems can guide our fight to make transit free and accessible here in Toronto. When overall access is not made a fundamental priority, it is a reflection of the deeply ableist and elitist priorities of the government.

The Bus Riders Union (BRU) in Los Angeles is perhaps the most successful example in North America of a working class movement built around the issue of mass public transit, yet even they have avoided calling for fare-free transit. Why is the GTWA transit committee seeking free TTC service, and not merely a cheaper or more affordable option?

Jordy Cummings: We have discussed incremental demands within the spirit of 'Free and Accessible Transit.' One slogan recently proposed has been 'Cut Fares, Not Services.' Speaking for myself, I'd again drive home the point that demanding lower fares won't get lower fares. Saying 'No Fare is Fair' is more likely to create an impetus for lower fares.

Herman Rosenfeld: There is nothing wrong in raising or fighting for lower fares and greater levels of service and accessibility than we have today – that is different than giving up on the fundamental goals of this campaign. The BRU is based on building an organizational power-base among bus riders in order to increase the accessibility and availability of bus service in LA. In other ways, its goals are similar to ours: allowing working people to access public transit; protecting the environment; and acting to organize workers in communities as a way to build a movement against the logic of private market accumulation.

Why is ‘accessibility’ in particular a key demand of the campaign, and what do you see as some of the glaring failures currently characterizing TTC service in this regard?

Kamilla Pietrzyk: If we are serious about improving transit accessibility, then saving Transit City is not enough. We need to demand better, safer, more accessible transit. We also need a commitment to improving and expanding existing transit infrastructure, so that people from communities outside the downtown core like Markham, Scarborough, or North York can enjoy adequate transit services. Huge portions of the city are virtually inaccessible because there are no accessible transit routes nearby. We want all of our transit vehicles and stations fully accessible.

Lisa Leinveer: As I stated earlier, far too many of the bus routes and subway stations are totally physically inaccessible. Repair of any subway stations that actually are accessible has been underprioritized. Many elevators and escalators in subway stations have been out of service for months. For example, the elevator at the Yonge/Bloor station was out of service for nine months before it was finally back in operation on December 16, 2011. As a result, many people could not transfer between the North-South line and the East-West line during this time. These kinds of service delays mean that people who need elevators and escalators cannot use those stations for extended periods of time, further blocking them from accessing some areas of the city. These repairs need to be prioritized, and more stations need to be made accessible in the first place.

Wheel-Trans, the unreliable 'alternative' to the TTC, is a segregated and discriminatory system that requires painful and humiliating tests for eligibility. If a person does qualify, they have to plan trips 24-hours in advance, and if they need to call instead of using the Internet, they may spend up to an hour on the phone waiting to get through because there are not enough workers on the line. There is much more demand than supply of Wheel-Trans buses, which means that if a person requests a ride at 2pm, they might be offered one at 4pm, or they might simply be declined. There are many other unfair rules that govern the lives of Wheel-Trans users.

A Wheel-Trans ride might arrive 20 minutes early, or 45 minutes late – without penalty. At the same time, if a rider is not ready within 5 minutes, the driver will leave and they will have missed their ride. If a rider happens to miss a ride four times in a month, they are cut off of Wheel-Trans access for two weeks. People often face discrimination and abuse from drivers working under terrible labour conditions. We also demand improved training and working conditions of Wheel-Trans drivers. We are not calling for the end of Wheel-Trans, since for many people it's the only way that they access public transit at this point. Rather, we are calling for the whole transit system to be made physically accessible, including all stations, bus routes, and streetcars.

Fare access is also a disability issue. Poverty in general is a disability issue, since poverty and disability are critically linked in the context of capitalist societies like Canada. Transit costs $3 per ride and $6 for a round-trip – if you have attendant care, that goes up to $12 for a round-trip! This is compounded by a political and economic system that keeps many people with disabilities in poverty. We demand free transit for TTC users and their attendants.

Rob Ford, the recently elected Mayor of Toronto, campaigned on an open platform to annul Transit City, and by all appearances seems keen to fulfill his promise. Where does your campaign stand in relation to Transit City, and do you think it is possible to in any way reconcile the two initiatives?

Herman Rosenfeld: Transit City is in reality a series of light rail lines that seeks to include inner suburban neighbourhoods in the larger transit grid; it's the result of a series of compromises that represent the strengths and weaknesses of the Miller era (and previous city and provincial administrations). We tend not to defend all of Transit City but parts of it. As a result, we are not part of the movement that argues that the be-all and end-all of transit policy is the defense of Transit City.

For us, the key is open, democratic planning; a rejection of neoliberal austerity; and opposition to the anti-public transit policy of Ford. We need to consult with people in the affected areas to see what they want and need and try and articulate that message around the concerns of those currently working to defend Transit City.

Lisa Leinveer: To that I would add that although it's commendable that the LRT system proposed would be accessible, this should not sway us from our critiques of Transit City overall, nor from our goals of changing the infrastructure of existing lines to make them physically accessible.

What is your envisioned relation to the TTC and TTC workers?

Jordy Cummings: Like other public services, the relationship would not change. There is some fear among TTC workers that free transit would mean less jobs, but there's no reason that those taking tickets or working within finance and other departments cannot be redeployed in a variety of ways to make transit a more affordable and accessible experience.

Recently, Mayor Ford and the 'liberal' provincial government recently attempted to make TTC an essential service – this is a slap in the face to TTC workers. While the Amalgamated Transit Union (ATU) cannot publicly back our campaign, TTC workers I've encountered have been remarkably receptive to the idea, as have other public and private sector trade unionists.

Lisa Leinveer: Being in solidarity with TTC workers, we believe that systemic change should include the improvement of working conditions for TTC and Wheel-Trans workers. We oppose framing these debates in narrow terms – for example, saying that it's the fault of the drivers that Wheel-Trans is unreliable. Part of making transit in Toronto less ableist, and therefore more accessible, is the prioritization of anti-ableist training and better working conditions for all TTC staff.

Finally, people will need to begin to believe that fare-free transit is possible before it can happen. What do you currently see as the key obstacle to the campaign becoming something that is seen as attainable in the public consciousness?

Jordy Cummings: The majority of people in Toronto in principle would back the idea of free transit. I think the obstacle is how we're socialized under capitalism to see things (public and private goods) as commodities, and the entire set of social relations that accompanies this way of thinking. For example, it seems normal for us to pay for some services, yet not for an appointment with our doctor or taking out a library book. What is the difference?

Leo Panitch: Nothing unites the people of the Greater Toronto Area as much as mass public transit, whether it is the TTC or GO Transit. We take it for granted since we use it every day and spend a good portion of our hard-earned money on unfair fares. Why then, is our supposedly 'public' transit system among the least public in the world? Our fares pay a large part of transit costs. Since 1991, fares have increased from $1.10 to $3.00 in 2010. And fares will likely continue to increase $0.25 each year. Why should we stand for this? Transit systems in other cities get more government funding to cover their costs. Other cities in the world put money into mass transit because people demand that the comfort, safety and cost of their commute is part of the common good. We Canadians are proud that we have a Medicare system that means we don’t have to pay for each time we go to the doctor or a hospital. We don’t have to pay a fee for water each time we turn on the tap or flush the toilet. We know that a public education system means our children don’t have to pay to go to school. We got these things because people came together and demanded them and won them from governments. A fare-free and accessible TTC is possible, if we demand it.

To contact or get involved with the GTWA transit committee:

Email: nofareisfair@gmail.com

Blog: http://gtwanofareisfair.blogspot.com/

Tumblr: http://nofareisfairgtwa.tumblr.com/

Twitter: @nofareisfair

Jordy Cummings is a PhD candidate in Political Science at York University, and active with CUPE Local 3903. Lisa Leinveer is an activist working with DAMN2025 in Toronto. Leo Panitch is Canada Research Chair in Comparative Political Economy at York University. Kamilla Pietrzyk is an activist and PhD student currently living in Toronto. Herman Rosenfeld is a former national representative in the education department of the Canadian Auto Workers (CAW) and now teaches Labour Studies at McMaster University. They are all active in the Greater Toronto Workers' Assembly (GTWA) transit committee.

Ali Mustafa is a freelance journalist, writer, and media activist. He resides in Toronto.

Revolutionary Hope and Change Across the 'Arab World': 10 Questions with Gilbert Achcar

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 01:43:00 +0000

New Socialist

By Ali Mustafa

Gilbert Achcar is a Lebanese writer, socialist, and antiwar activist. He is also a professor of Development Studies and International Relations at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in London, and author most recently of The Arabs and the Holocaust: the Arab-Israeli War of Narratives. In this interview, he discusses the significance of the ongoing revolutionary wave of mass protests occuring across the Middle East with one of the New Socialist webzine editors Ali Mustafa.

Ali Mustafa: The Middle East has long been considered among the least likely places to see anything like a popular revolution. Arabs in particular have been traditionally understood as politically weak, apathetic, and now “not ready” for democracy. What do you believe these characterizations suggest about our basic understanding of the region and its people?

Gilbert Achcar: I think that the answer has now become obvious. The ongoing events shattered all theories claiming that democracy is not part of the 'cultural values' of Arabs or Muslims, and that the latter are instead culturally addicted to despotic regimes, and all such stupidities––there has been a lot of them indeed. Most of the time they are plainly racist, Orientalist, or Islamophobic; they may also be expressed by Western rulers as pretexts for catering to despotic regimes, their best friends. The uprisings, however, are no surprise for anybody who did not subscribe to these 'culturalist' views and knew that the longing for democracy and freedom is universal. People all over the world are willing to pay a high price in their fight for democracy when circumstances reach a point when they feel it is the right time to act.

AM: The uprisings that have occurred all across the 'Arab World' in Tunisia, Egypt, Jordan and beyond have largely been popular, secular, and cut across all sectors of society. Are we potentially witnessing the rise of a new type of Pan-Arabism, or just the same underlying causes at play? If so, how does this new Pan-Arabism break with the previous incarnation of the Nasser era?

GA: No, I don’t think this is anything resembling the kind of Arab nationalism that existed in the 1950s and 60s. These are very different times. Of course, the Arab national feeling has been 'reloaded,' if one could say so, by the way in which this wave has spread over the whole region; it strengthened tremendously the sense of belonging to the same geopolitical and cultural area. In that sense, the consciousness of belonging to an Arab cultural-national sphere has been very much increased by the ongoing events, but it’s not comparable to the aspirations to Arab unity that existed in the 50s and 60s when the belief in the possibility of unifying the Arab peoples into a single state was quite strong, behind Nasser in particular.

Now, what we have is again a sense of belonging to the same geopolitical and cultural area, but the movement is coming from below, and if ever people are to contemplate the perspective of unity, it would be closer to the European kind of unification than to that of the 50s and 60s; this would take, first of all, changing Arab regimes into democratic ones, and then having a democratic process between different Arab countries forming gradually a united federative or confederative political entity. Of course, this is something to contemplate for the future. For the time being, what people are concerned with is democratic change, and what we are seeing is only the beginning; it’s far from being completed yet.

AM: There has been so much speculation to date about the Egyptian revolution’s long-term implications for Egypt/Israel diplomatic relations, but what do you believe these events will mean for the Palestinians specifically?

GA: They can only mean good things for the Palestinian cause. Since you said 'Palestinians' in the plural, we have to specify which Palestinians we mean: are we speaking of the Palestinian Authority (PA) of Mahmoud Abbas and Salam Fayyad, or Hamas, or the Palestinian people as a whole? These are quite different perspectives. For the Palestinian people and the Palestinian cause in general, like for any Arab people, what is happening all over the region is the best that could happen. The surge of the mass movement in Egypt makes conditions potentially much better for the Palestinian people. The Egyptian regime––which was colluding with Israel in the oppression of the Palestinian people, especially in Gaza–– has been very much weakened by the mass protests, and there’s no doubt that the Egyptian popular movement feels a strong affinity and solidarity with the Palestinian people, especially the people in Gaza who have many ties with Egypt; this can only benefit them in the long run.

AM: What does this revolutionary wave in the Arab world ultimately mean for American foreign policy in the Middle East? Are we potentially seeing the end of a long legacy of US hegemony in the region?

GA: Results will be contrasted: Washington’s clients will be more than ever dependent on US protection, and that goes especially for the Gulf Cooperation Council states – that is, the oil monarchies in the Gulf area. They are scared to death now with this wave of struggles, which has even reached two of them, Bahrain and Oman, and started affecting the Saudi kingdom. These regimes will rely on US protection, even more so than before. Among the other countries where the movement has been proceeding––and that includes Egypt, the second largest recipient of US foreign aid in the world after the Israeli state––everything will depend on the outcome of the ongoing struggle between the military regime on the one hand, and the mass movement on the other. The military are very much dependent on Washington, of course, whereas the mass movement is very hostile to this dependency and to US foreign policy in the region. At any rate, the ongoing events represent a severe blow to US strategic interests in the Middle East in the very fact that they destabilize Washington’s protégés and clients in a most vital region of the world; that much is absolutely clear.

AM: Egypt has operated as a de facto military dictatorship since 1952 and its army is now acting as a caretaker government until free and fair elections can take place in September. What role is the military playing right now, and can they be trusted to ultimately cede power or have they merely sacrificed the dictator to save the dictatorship?

GA: They have indeed a certain number of fuses that they can replace in trying to defuse the mass movement. It started with Mubarak himself dismissing the government and designating another Prime Minister who formed a new cabinet; then, the leadership of the ruling party was made to resign; then, Mubarak himself had to leave the scene under the pressure of the mass movement; and now the military have reshuffled the cabinet. But all this is not convincing enough for the mass movement, which is demanding much more: they want a complete change of government with no figures from the previous regime involved.

Beyond that, they are demanding that a presidential committee oversee the transitional period, a committee composed of a majority of civilians, with only one representative of the military. They were also demanding the election of a constituent assembly, whereas the military short-circuited this demand by creating a committee to draw up some revisions to the constitution that will be submitted to a referendum––a completely different scheme, even though they promise that the next parliament will draft a new constitution. An important issue is the date of the next parliamentary elections: the military backed by the Muslim Brotherhood want to hold them in June, whereas the young leaders of the uprising want them to be postponed for a few more months until the new political forces manage to organize and get ready. Very obviously what the military are trying to implement is what in Washington they call an 'orderly transition,' with the military remaining firmly in control. Since the young leaders do not subscribe to this perspective, we are witnessing a tug-of-war between the military junta and the popular movement.

AM: The Egyptian revolution’s early mass protests were orchestrated largely by the youth it now seems clear, but what has been the role of the workers and working-class to date, and what do you see as its role looking forward?

GA: If you are referring to the way in which the mass protest started on the 25^th of January, the key role there was played indeed by liberal and left-wing opposition groups like the April 6 Youth Movement, which is related to the National Association for Change formed around Mohamed ElBaradei. All these people played a decisive role in organizing the movement this time. But the April 6 Youth Movement itself was born in solidarity with the workers’ strikes that unfolded from the year 2006 onward. The movement is named after the day in 2008 when they tried to organize a general national strike in support of the workers’ movement.

Now the reverse transmission is taking place: April 6 and other political forces were instrumental in launching the protests on the 25^th of January, but then after a few days of protest, a little before Mubarak left the scene, workers started joining the movement not only as demonstrators as they did from day one, but as strikers. The wave of strikes actually reached very large proportions before Mubarak resigned, and it is plausible that this played a role in precipitating his final gesture of leaving the scene and handing power to the military. The strikes––along with the formulation of demands by various categories of workers, the process of forming independent unions, and the central demand that the state-controlled unions be dissolved––are continuing despite threats by the military, or calls to their cessation by parts of the opposition like the Muslim Brotherhood. All of this is still going on and shows that the workers are a very powerful part of the movement.

AM: With so much emphasis on Mubarak’s ouster, what is the fear that now that he’s gone and calls for 'stability' and 'order' grow louder, the Egyptian revolution may lose its early momentum and only solidify the status quo?

GA: One could have feared that it might lose its momentum when Mubarak left the scene, but what we have seen until now doesn’t point in that direction at all. The Friday mobilizations are still very large and the movement is not willing to stop the fight. Further mobilizations are planned, and we will see, I’m sure, a lot more in the coming period. This confirms basically what I was saying: that this revolutionary process is not a completed revolution in any sense of the term; it is still going on and different outcomes are still possible.

Either the military manage to control the situation and impose their own and Washington’s kind of 'orderly transition,' or the mass movement succeeds in imposing more radical change. We will see, but for the time being, in light of what we have seen until now, there are more reasons for optimism than for pessimism.

AM: We have seen a lot of cross-sector unity in the early stages of the Egyptian revolution – young/old, men/women, Muslim/Christian, for example. What are the prospects for this type of dynamic holding up in the post-Mubarak era, and what challenges will it face going forward?

GA: I can’t see any split along lines of young/old, men/women, or even Muslim/Christian in the near future. I am not saying that nothing of that can happen in the future, but based on what we have seen until now there seems to be little risk. The only real threat among those you mentioned would be a revival of Muslim/Christian tensions because these existed before the beginning of the events. But on that score, the mobilization proved a wonderful healer of division. We have seen expressions of fraternity among people of Muslim and Christian backgrounds, and even a fundamentalist force like the Muslim Brotherhood was quite clear in repealing sectarianism within the movement.

At this stage, the key point of unity or disunity is not along such 'identity' lines but political lines, as well as class lines; it is the unity of the opposition forces that is threatened, in political terms. The military are trying to buy part of the opposition into collaborating with them; they have already brought into the government a few representatives of the legal opposition, and they are seeking to secure the Muslim Brotherhood’s support and get them involved in the 'orderly transition.'

The military are trying to break the opposition’s unity, and, of course, we can’t bet on this unity going on indefinitely. For the time being the radical democratic and left-wing forces in the movement are still able to lead the way and mobilize for more radical change.

AM: We have seen the revolutionary uprisings in the Middle East grow far beyond what we all imagined possible, spreading rapidly now to Libya, Algeria, and Morocco. Do you see any exceptions where such mass protests are not likely to occur, including Lebanon, Syria, or Saudi Arabia?

GA: The mass protests are strongest where you have despotic regimes. Lebanon is a country where you have regular, relatively fair elections, and where the political majority is presently dominated by Hezbollah, so this creates very different conditions. Nevertheless, a demonstration has been organized recently in Beirut against sectarianism and in favor of secularism. When you look at the other despotic regimes in the Arab region, two of them are countries where popular protest is simmering but is being held back by fiercely repressive regimes: the Saudi kingdom on the one hand, and Syria on the other. In my talk in Toronto on 13 February, I said that in countries like Syria and Libya the likelihood of the explosion was less than in other countries of the region, due to the particularly ruthless character of the regimes; I added, however, that if an uprising were to happen, events would turn much bloodier than in Tunisia and Egypt, and that’s exactly what is happening now in Libya.

The same can be said about Syria and the Saudi kingdom. In such countries, mass protests may start unfolding, especially if the Libyan uprising proves successful––a fact that will certainly embolden the protest movement. Regimes there and elsewhere in the Arab world are making all sorts of preventative concessions now, raising wages and promising other social policies, because they are scared to death that the wave of democratic uprisings might reach their own countries. No one in the Arab world can feel immune––even in countries like Lebanon and Iraq where you have some possible alternation in power through elections. Iraq has seen a mass protest unfolding, not about free elections but for social and economic demands.

AM: We have some indication about what the Egyptian revolution and all the other uprisings across the 'Arab World' may mean for those respective countries, and to some extent US hegemony in the region, but what do you see as the wider global implications, if any? Do these events in any way present a challenge to the prevailing neoliberal order overall?

GA: The ongoing uprisings are a result of the social and economic changes brought in by neoliberalism, to be sure, but they are not yet posing a major challenge to the global and even local neoliberal order. Although we are seeing within the protests––like in Egypt with the workers’ mobilization––dynamics that go right against the neoliberal prescriptions, it is the democratic dimension of the struggle that has been prevailing until now. The global dimension of this shockwave is at present, therefore, more related to democracy than to social demands; its impact is even now reaching China. It is wherever the demand for democracy is still to be satisfied that the impact of what we are seeing is proving strongest at this stage. For the future, we will have to wait and see.

The powers that be in the Arab countries are trying to keep the movement within the limits of political democracy and prevent it from developing beyond that into a social and economic stage. There is an important potential here, however, and, to repeat my point, we are still in the midst of the process and the fight continues to go on; it may well turn eventually into a big challenge to the neoliberal economic order, especially in Tunisia and Egypt where the working class is a major factor in the process.

A Tribute to Tahrir Square: This is What Democracy Looks Like!

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 19:34:00 +0000

photo credit: REUTERS/Amr Abdallah Dalsh

By Ali Mustafa

"...The more late his decision to go away is, the more creative and more beautiful the revolution. So I want him to give us some more time to make a more beautiful revolution."
- pro-democracy protester in Tahrir Square, Ali El Mashad

Introduction

Since the Egyptian revolution's first mass protests exploded throughout the country on January 25th, many so-called pundits and analysts have frantically struggled to find a suitable historical parallel in order to make sense of the situation to the outside world: France 1789; Iran 1979; and Tiananmen Square 1989 are just a few of the many analogies that have dominated popular discourse in the West. Meanwhile, the US government and its allies have predictably continued to emphasize familiar concerns over 'stability' and 'order,' the broader regional implications for neighboring Israel, and the specter of an 'Islamist' takeover. But it hardly matters to any of these foreign players, of course, that in the end the people of Tahrir Square and all across Egypt do not seem to be thinking about any of these concerns at all, nor do they particularly care about any ongoing speculation surfacing from outside of the country at the moment.

For the first time ever, perhaps, Egyptians have seen a genuine opportunity for freedom and refused to let it go, boldly defying a brutal and seemingly immovable thirty-year-old dictatorship and commencing to build in its place the foundation of a grassroots democracy that only continues to grow stronger every day. A new and vibrant democracy is being born in Egypt today against all odds, evolving live in front of a captured global audience in a way quite unlike ever before. The Egyptian revolution has to this point flourished as a truly non-violent, inclusive, and participatory democracy – and, most importantly, managed to do so without any appointed leaders, dominant ideologies, or easy slogans, except to say simply that the dictator must go.

The all important 'fear barrier' has been decisively shattered and shows no sign of returning any time soon.

What final character the Egyptian revolution will ultimately take as of now remains unclear, but whatever happens, what will follow is at its core of less importance than what Egyptians have already managed to achieve.

All we need is time...

The Middle East has long been considered among the least likely places in the world to produce anything like a popular revolution. Arabs in particular are conventionally characterized as politically weak, apathetic, and most recently 'not ready' for democracy. When the people of the 'Arab World' finally do rise up en masse – as they have done not only in Egypt, but Tunisia, Yemen, Jordan, and beyond – they are met in the West only with fear and anxiety over the coming 'chaos.'

Yet despite all the familiar rhetoric, it is not the imagined 'Islamist' threat that troubles the West most but the actual threat of a good example – in other words, exactly the type of grassroots democracy that has flourished in Tahrir Square. Indeed, it was in the interests of the Western-backed dictatorship all along for President Hosni Mubarak to cede power as quickly as possible in order to not only pave the way for a guided transition to 'democracy' but also fatally undercut the revolutionary protest movement in its most embryonic stage in the process. Paradoxically, the longer Mubarak stayed in power, the more radical and unified the Egyptian revolution increasingly became.

The foremost concern on everyone's mind now seems to be, "will the Egyptian revolution descend further into 'chaos' or end peacefully in 'democracy'?" Egyptians have joined together to answer that question by showing the world a living example of democracy in action beyond what many of us even imagined possible. Far from simply ceding power, Mubarak has already given the protest movement more than they could ever hope for: time to actually find democracy, and build it anew.

Meet me in Liberation Square

Tahrir Square has served as the epicenter of the Egyptian revolution since June 25th, playing out as the symbolic battleground for the future of Egypt itself. Indeed, it has by now grown beyond much more than a mere symbol, eventually taking on the appearance of a permanent communal settlement of fully fitted tents and even at a point coming to be commonly referred to as a 'liberated zone' and the 'Republic of Tahrir.' What Egyptians have done in Tahrir Square is truly remarkable: they have made it their home, social space, and political arena – all in one. Over the course of two weeks, Tahrir Square has not only proven itself to be the primary site where the Egyptian revolution must be definitively won or lost but, above all, actually provided a 21st century model democracy from inside the hollowed shell of the ancien regime – fully outside the narrow proscriptions of state power.

Make no mistake, the Egyptian revolution was never at any point a war of attrition; the longer Mubarak stalled, the longer he only prolonged the inevitable. Ordinary Egyptians critically never stopped mobilizing in the streets of Cairo and other major cities across the country until sign of victory, only growing more defiant, steadfast, and united by the day. The revolutionary example of Tahrir Square quickly spread to take the form of workplace strikes, mass protests outside the presidential palace, and ultimately an occupation of the parliament building (officially known as the 'Peoples Assembly,' and, at that moment, finally worthy of the title).

Indeed, the familiar rhetoric in the West – faithfully echoed all along by Mubarak and his cronies – about Egypt 'not being ready' for democracy is not only clearly indicative of a dated Orientalist paradigm that is rife with hypocrisy, but it is also by now a moot point: beyond simply ready for 'democracy,' Egyptians have demonstrated before the eyes of the world a living model of everything it should – and can – still be. Tahrir square has seen an outpouring of creative street art, music, and poetry; everything from weddings to funerals, prayer to play – the full spectrum of human experience.

Democracy in action

But Tahrir Square represents much more than a modern-day 'carnival of the oppressed': Egyptians of all social strata have voluntarily taken to street cleaning; directing midday traffic; coordinating neighboring patrols amidst early outbreaks of looting; and even organizing self-defense committees during the sporadic February 2nd clashes with the baltagiyya, fully equipped with security checkpoints, look-out posts, and makeshift hospitals to treat the wounded. The poorest Egyptians comprising the informal sector and surviving on less than $2 a day have thrived like rarely before, selling everything from Egyptian flags to newspapers. Price inflation under these conditions remarkably has not soared, and where price has been at all an issue people have not hesitated to share or willingly give away for free what little they possess in the way of food or drink.

Overcoming a long legacy of mutual hostility and suspicion along traditional sectarian lines, there is an Egypt for everyone in Tahrir Square: men and women, young and old, Muslim and Christian. Lively and vigourous debate – free and full of meaning, for once – have filled all four corners of Tahrir Square, conveying by loudspeaker the full array of diverse political views and opinions present. Any formal adoption of proposals has been decided democratically by clear majority-vote based on the overall share of 'cheers' or 'boos' coming from the crowd at large.

Contrary to popular belief in the West, the Egyptian revolution has not been one of 'chaos' but rather the complete opposite. Against the backdrop of a brutal and repressive dictatorship of thirty years, the people of Tahrir Square Square have in a few short weeks cultivated a new set of social relations in Egypt based broadly on the principles of solidarity, equality, and common cause – totally subverting the prevailing order in which people play only a dominant or subordinate role under a rigidly codified social hierarchy. In reality, the Egyptian revolution that has emerged in the heart of Tahrir Square since January 25th already far and away surpasses as an alternative, by any standard measure, not only the dictatorship in Egypt but anything even remotely being passed off as 'democracy' here in the West.

Rather than Egypt looking for a suitable democratic model in the West, it is, contrarily, the West and others who should be looking to find it in Egypt's Tahrir Square.

People power 2.0

The Egyptian revolution has been largely perceived as a 'leaderless' phenomenon, consisting of a loose and informal coalition (or 'network') of disenfranchised youth, radical online activists, and organized labour unions. Yet no protest movement in history arises out of nothing; it has been the inevitable result of persistent grassroots organization (both online and offline) that only awaited a moment of mass consciousness to finally come to fruition. In reality, the Egyptian revolution can just as easily be characterized as comprising many leaders, who have emerged more or less spontaneously in direct response to changing circumstances on the ground as they arise. To whatever extent it has by necessity existed, leadership has been at once diffuse and organically rooted within the protest movement itself.

The basic reality on the ground, however, has not prevented both Western and foreign media from conspiring together to single out a few likely candidates to play the role of 'charismatic leader' and give this collective, largely spontaneous revolt a unifying face – first with Mohamed ElBaradei who, for all his merits, has been largely aloof from dynamics of the mass protests on the ground, and may also be too old to to appeal to his overall demographic base; and now, most notably, Wael Ghonim, the Google executive whose emotionally powerful interview on Egyptian television immediately following his release from prison helped invigorate the protest movement during a momentary period of uncertainty.

Yet the key strength of the Egyptian revolution to date has been its overwhelmingly popular appeal, which has dynamically cut across all sectors of society. Ironically enough, it has succeed to whatever extent it has not in spite of a lack of formal leadership but exactly because of it. The 'leaderless' online networking channels provided by social media have dynamically transformed into a concrete example of democracy in action in Tahrir Square – one based crucially on a unique combination of individual agency and collective will, not simply the confidence of a specific leader to tell them what to do or direction to take.

The Muslim Brotherhood were notably not central players during the early phase of the Egyptian revolution because, like any traditional organization, they were out of touch with not only the diversity of political views and opinions in the streets but also the Internet technology through which the first mass protests were in large part originally mobilized. Indeed, the very concept of the 'leaderless,' collaborative, and decentralized organizing structure evolving on the ground remains wholly foreign to them. In other words, they did not simply fail to participate in the early mass protests, they were left behind.

The Muslim Brotherhood's declining political relevance became most obvious when they agreed to enter negotiations with a regime already long rejected and devoid of all legitimacy in the streets. These negotiations only further confirmed the growing overall disconnect between the Muslim Brotherhood's leadership and the masses in the streets, offering the embattled dictatorship a new lifeline in the process (albeit a short-lived one). Whereas the people of Tahrir Square have been able to transmit key information and convey any demands instantly and constantly via social media, 'opposition groups' and the dictatorship itself have only managed to enter into the dialogue at least two days out of step with popular opinion on the ground.

Taking back the idea of democracy

The Egyptian revolution was built en masse, by the majority of Egyptians together. Why would a people embarking on a shared social project, with so much collectively at stake, in any way voluntarily alienate ownership over the process as it develops to somebody else? And anyway, which any one leader or group of leaders alone could aim to capture the full range of views and opinions of all the people in Tahrir Sqaure and across Egypt? Who else but themselves? The people of Tahrir Square actually held a vote at one point about whether or not to elect representatives to make key executive decisions on behalf of the protest movement; they overwhelmingly and decisively voted 'no.' Under such circumstances, it is entirely natural to welcome with suspicion any formal leadership or representation – particularly when the only kind you have known for the duration of your lifetime has been thoroughly corrupt, democratically unaccountable, and morally bankrupt.

A protest movement can only be called such to the extent that all its members feel a shared sense of belonging and ownership – one that can only emerge organically out of a core set of common grievances and joint struggle, not any single identifiable leader or narrowly defined party platform. What is at issue at present is not a lack of leadership or organizational structure, but, more precisely, what type is it exactly that will emerge, how will it organically take shape, and in whose overall interests will it operate? The obsessive search for leadership is trying to solve a problem or fill a void that in reality does not exist in the first place.

But leadership is not in any way distinguishable to us, after all, until it comfortably conforms to conventional wisdom; all other alien forms that fall outside this purview are simply not recognizable, much less legitimate. Fortunately, the Egyptian revolution has consistently aspired to defy convention. What is, after all, the purpose of revolution if not to at once disrupt dominant social norms and transform them anew? Indeed, a new sense of agency has emerged among the majority of Egyptians – the kind that can only take root when very idea of state authority loses any remaining trace of legitimacy and finally collapses.

Regardless of whatever happens now, the single truth remains: whatever the dictatorship finally concedes after thirty years of rule will fall short of what Egyptians themselves have already built in a few short weeks.

"Muslim, Christian, We are all Egyptian!"

What has been perhaps most incredible about the Egyptian revolution overall is its general lack of sectarianism and internal division (save, of course, for the baltagiyya and relatively small proportion of Mubarak loyalists). Indeed, Egyptian society is far from homogeneous but still politically and economically far less stratified than other countries in the region. The majority of Egyptians have known to a more or less comparable degree the same political repression and economic hardship while living under dictatorship, resulting in a general identification with the same core grievances across all strata of society: poverty and unemployment, rising basic commodity prices, and government corruption top among them. The Egyptian revolution depends in large part on this shared sense of systemic injustice.

Amidst the fundamentally false choice being perpetuated in the mainstream media between a Western-backed dictatorship or an 'Islamist' takeover, Egyptians have instead chosen to 'vote with their feet' and resoundingly reject both. The Egyptian revolution will not only finally bring about liberation but hopefully, once and for all, end a long legacy of sectarian division between Muslims and Christians – one in which the dictatorship has been the only clear and constant beneficiary. The Egyptian revolution in the end must reach far beyond the narrow interests of any one particular interest group or another but unite all around the project of building a new Egypt where everyone has a place, based critically on the new transformative set of social relations that have flourished Tahrir Square.

Reform versus revolution

Egyptians will be particularly keen now on not allowing the military 'caretaker government' to merely implement cosmetic democratic reforms along the lines of the 1919 and 1952 revolutions, fundamentally preserving the dominant power structure that has ruled the country uninterrupted for over half a century. A more golden opportunity for genuine social change may not arrive again soon, if ever, and the majority of Egyptians know it. If they do not follow through fully with the revolution that is now underway, they risk it being co-opted right from underneath them – not by 'Islamists,' as feared in the West, but by the very same regime they have fought for eighteen extraordinary days to overturn.

So long as the basic dominant power structure remains intact, there can be no truly viable, sustainable, and meaningful transition to democracy. The people of Tahrir Square know this fact only too well, which is why they have until now refused to comprise and allow this revolutionary moment to be stolen from them. Democracy can be many things to many different people, but what democratic foundation is set in place will be paramount. Here the Egyptians have an opportunity, a luxury to some degree, that here in the West we simply do not enjoy as our dominant institutions and overall centers of power appear, more or less, permanently fixed in our imagination. Egyptians have the all important advantage of starting anew, whereas we are far too constrained by the liberal democratic system already in place to envision anything that will drastically break ranks with the prevailing social order. While the idea of liberal democracy may have some purchase in Egypt now, once in place it will be infinitely more difficult to imagine an alternative – much less continue to build one.

Key challenges looking forward

Indeed, a crisis or revolutionary moment can unite people in truly spectacular, albeit unpredictable, ways. The test for Egyptians will be not to preoccupy themselves so much with the difficult question of what exactly lies ahead so as to lose sight of what they have already built. It would truly be a shame to see Tahrir Square's burgeoning democracy lost for no other reason than the interests of 'stability' and 'order' (especially when only code for the prevailing status quo antes). After all, it is exactly the 'stability' and 'order' of the past thirty years – with open Western complicity – that got Egyptians here in the first place and whose crushing effects they have fought for their lives to change, led all along by the country's youth who no doubt have the most to lose. What is 'stability' and 'order' in the end without "democracy, bread, and dignity," the popular rallying cry of the Egyptian revolution? Ironically enough, calls for 'stability' and 'order' have always come loudest from either outside of the country or on high, never, crucially, from those in the streets.

Beyond all the focus on 'stability' and 'order,' foreign relations with Israel, and the fear of 'Islamists' taking power, the key challenge ahead is how Egyptians will be able to both defend and, more importantly, advance what they have now started. Egyptians have clearly coalesced around a core set of concrete, coherent, and non-negotiable demands that will lay the basis of whatever civilian government is likely to follow; however, the depth and permanence of the Egyptian revolution will be measured in exact proportion to how the people of Tahrir Square now will relate to one another once those basic demands are met in full and the jubilation and euphoria that originally punctuated Mubarak's ouster finally dies away.

Once a sense of normalcy begins to return to the country, and calls for basic 'stability' and 'order' begin to hold sway even within the ranks of the protest movement itself is exactly when the Egyptian revolution's longterm potential of survival will be tested most. After all, it is always easy to unite around what you stand against but altogether another matter to remain united long enough to achieve what you actually stand for, particularly when economic hardship returns to the country and food prices begin to dramatically rise – all the underlying systemic causes of the Egyptian revolution in the first place. Furthermore, whatever new government finally emerges will not only have the difficult task of filling a large, empty power vacuum but also inheriting the hallowed remains of a functionally 'failed state.'

Conclusion

As Egyptians enter the yet unclear transition from dictatorship to the first ever free and fair elections in the country's history, it is imperative that they not forget what was born in Tahrir Square where democracy has been all along. Indeed, Tahrir Square should not be remembered as simply a positive corollary of a larger transitional phase to something else, but rather what we should all aspire for in the first place.

Egyptians are in the process of building the kind of world they want to live in – one that should serve as a basic standard for us all. If you really want to know what democracy looks like, you will find no better example than Tahrir Square.

Where Do We Go from Here? The G20 Summit, Black Bloc, and the Canadian Left

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 04:26:00 +0000

New Socialist

photo credit: Ali Mustafa

By Ali Mustafa

Background

Public outcry continues to grow across Canada over the widespread abuse of civil liberties during the recent G20 Summit in Toronto. Over 1,000 people were rounded-up and arrested between June 26th- 27th, resulting in the largest mass arrest in Canadian history. While the majority of those arrested have since been released, at least 16 people remain under strict bail conditions and face a variety of serious criminal charges. Countless others who managed to avoid arrest were indiscriminately searched, detained for hours, and even violently attacked by police.

Indeed, all the warning signs of a ‘police state’ were present: a pervasive state of fear and paranoia loomed over the city; freedom of movement was heavily restricted; massive police presence was encountered at every turn; ‘Big Brother’-like CCTV cameras closely watched over every move; and demonstrators stayed tightly together in groups, too afraid to travel the streets alone.

Yet what is particularly troubling about the G20 Summit is not so much the unprecedented $1 billion security cost or sweeping police power put on display but the new ‘age of austerity’ that promises to follow – one that will look to fully exploit the new precedent of state violence now in place. Just like any ‘moment’ of crisis, whether the long-term fallout will translate into the normalization of a new austerity regime or the mobilization of a new Canadian Left in response remains to be seen. The immediate question before us now is where do we go from here?

A new Canadian Left?

Much of the ongoing controversy about the G20 Summit surrounds the events of the ‘People First! We Deserve Better’ march and rally on June 26th, which saw a small contingent of Black Bloc ‘anarchists’ split from the larger crowd and proceed to vandalize corporate property throughout the downtown core, including major banks in the financial district. The spectacle of smashed store windows and torched police cars was a key turning point during the G20 Summit, at the same time alienating the public, polarizing the Canadian Left, and providing a convenient pretext for the brutal and indiscriminate wave of police repression that would follow.

But before we too quickly denounce or defend (or dismiss altogether) Black Bloc, and the wider question of ‘diversity of tactics,’ we need to be willing to ask the simple question: what exactly is the political void that gives rise to such actions in the first place? In reality, Black Bloc are neither simply ‘heroes’ nor ‘villains’ but a glaring symptom of the overall weakness of the Canadian Left today. In spite of themselves, whatever our opinion may be, they actually offer us a valuable entry point to interrogate the given limitations of our own activism.

Whether police in fact used agents provocateurs to incite vandalism or simply did nothing in response seems to be largely beside the point; so long as routine mass demonstrations fail to seriously challenge the status quo, small-scale targeted property attacks will continue to exist. Yet the duality between ‘peaceful’ protest, on one hand, and Black Bloc ‘violence,’ on the other, is fundamentally a false choice. Rather than limit our activism to a mass base without militancy or militancy without a mass base, we need to fully reject both in favor of a viable alternative – a ‘mass militancy’ – that actually confronts power and helps renew the struggle for radical social change.

Balance of forces

There is no easy shortcut to social change. In reality, the prevailing social order relies far more today on a broad measure of ‘democratic’ consent than on any (real or perceived) threat of state violence. In order to radically transform the given balance of forces, a prior mass awakening is needed. The G20 Summit naturally raises many more questions than answers, but this much by now should be clear: both routine demonstrations and targeted property attacks, in and of themselves, are unsuccessful ‘tactics’ in galvanizing the working class poor to action – much less swaying public opinion.

If routine demonstrations consistently fall short of the radicalism that many among us would like to see, it is not necessarily due to any lack of political will on the part of organizers but more likely because the objective conditions at present are simply not conducive to do much else. Yet if we remain too fixated on the optics of staying ‘peaceful’ – even in the face of unparalleled state violence, such as was witnessed during the G20 Summit – how can we realistically hope to advance social change? The overall failure of the Canadian Left to meaningfully engage the broader public (and oftentimes each other) inevitably limits the range of ‘tactics’ that will be available to us. As a result, the basic goal of the Canadian Left so far has been not so much social change but simply looking to avoid the loss of any more ground politically (the labour movement being a particularly clear example of this troubling trend).

By contrast, whether targeted property attacks amount to a morally legitimate ‘tactic’ is not the question per se but rather, under the given balance of forces, are they at all strategically effective? When ‘tactics’ must operate outside of the general body of protest, any political coherence, democratic accountability, and organic link to the majority sentiment on the ground is automatically lost. The idea that a loosely-defined group of anonymous individuals may take it upon themselves to decide the outcome of protests is not only irresponsible but highly undemocratic. By fundamentally discounting any consideration of public opinion, such ‘tactics’ only help to legitimize police repression of protests under the familiar banner of ‘security’ and ‘order.’ Accordingly, Black Bloc in many ways unwittingly play into the hands of the very same system they aim to overthrow. The response of the Canadian Left, however, cannot be to single-out Black Bloc alone but any ‘tactic’ that does nothing to help build our overall capacity as a movement.

A careful consideration of the strategic value of all ‘tactics’ does not divide a movement so much as it helps shape and define it. Not all ‘tactics’ are inherently equal. Unfortunately, the way in which the debate over ‘diversity of tactics’ has evolved to date has been hopelessly sectarian and short-sighted, only further dividing us at a time when exactly the opposite is needed.

Who is a ‘radical’ anyway?

While it is impossible to defend smashed store windows and torched police cars during the G20 Summit, anyone at street level at the time could not help but find themselves (if only reluctantly) awestruck at the sight. No matter how futile or strategically ineffective such ‘tactics’ may be, how can we fault ourselves for refusing to feel sorry? Without even the basic goal of marching towards the security fence to strive for, the feeling that at least something – anything – was achieved at the protests was itself a token consolation. Despite a $1 billion security budget and over 10, 000 officers deployed in the city, we saw that, to some extent, police are not ‘untouchable.’ Black Bloc may not have won the ‘hearts and minds’ of very many people, but they managed to stir up a sense of indignation, particularly among a majority of youth, that should not go ignored.

It is important to recall too that it was hardly only Black Bloc (or for that matter, agents provocateurs) who openly engaged in vandalism; many of those who smashed store windows, torched police cars, and looted throughout the downtown core were ordinary demonstrators with no overt political motive. Why would anyone with conceivably little to gain feel compelled to carry out such actions? Here Black Bloc offer no easy scapegoat. Without any constructive outlet to channel a legitimate sense of rage, individualized cathartic release will be the likely, if not inevitable, result.

Above all, the G20 Summit helped to highlight the inherent limits of our own ‘democracy.’ Indeed, over the course of a single weekend, simply speaking out against the G20 agenda became a ‘radical’ act. The widening scope of what is considered ‘radical’ may actually represent a key political window in which to begin to mobilize ordinary Canadians who have now experienced police repression firsthand – a majority of them introduced for the first time to the kind of police repression that passes daily without scrutiny in poor, marginalized, at-risk communities.

Since the G20 Summit, several protests in support of ‘civil liberties’ have occurred in major cities nationwide in an effort to keep the broader public engaged politically. While the affront to our basic rights must be taken seriously, it is particularly important now not to limit our message to the language of ‘civil liberties’ alone (which are themselves not a product of state benevolence but a long history of sustained struggle, it must be stated). Until the Canadian Left is able to put forward a political agenda that fundamentally questions the legitimacy of the status quo, even our ‘civil liberties’ will never fully be safe – a fact only confirmed by the G20 Summit.

Moving forward in a ‘moment’ of crisis

Still, we cannot overlook the scale of popular resistance put on display during the G20 Summit. The city came closer than at any other time in recent memory. A vast and diverse array of people united to mobilize against the G20 agenda, including: anti-poverty, migrant rights, Indigenous sovereignty, climate justice, and countless other groups from across the country. The problem, however, is that any basis of unity that occurs only in response to a ‘moment’ of crisis is bound to be fatally short-lived, lacking not only a necessary review of ‘tactics’ but a clear political agenda overall.

Although the difficulties facing the Canadian Left today come with no easy answers, ‘moments’ of crisis give us a unique opportunity in which to evaluate our strengths, weaknesses, and overall capacity. The mass mobilization of 15 – 20, 000 people is no doubt an impressive total, but far short of the immense challenge opposite us. Our dilemma today is hardly new: so long as the broader public is unable to imagine the possibility of a world without capitalism, they will continue to favor the relative stability of the status quo over the risk of social change.

Yet it is important to keep in mind that ‘moments’ of crisis do not exist in isolation; they are a reflection of inherent conflict in the prevailing social order. Inasmuch as the ruling elite can exploit them to reconstitute themselves, so too can the Left. For instance, at the peak of the recent global financial crisis, the ruling elite was able to take advantage of the overall weakness of the Left internationally to surface from what certainly looked to be the imminent collapse of modern capitalism as we know it even more consolidated, coordinated, and steadfast than before. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the Left internationally. What will be our response to the G20 Summit fallout? Will we continue to play a losing game of ‘divide and conquer,’ or actually look to use the ‘moment’ of crisis before us to begin the much needed project of building a new Canadian Left? Under the current circumstances, the decision, it seems, is easy; the difficult part is the work that lies ahead.

Conclusion

Any polarizing debate over ‘diversity of tactics’ that simply seeks to denounce or defend Black Bloc without addressing the root cause of the problem is missing the point. A prior acknowledgment of Black Bloc as a symptom of our own overall weakness is a necessary precondition for moving forward. Indeed, the debate over ‘diversity of tactics’ is only relevant insofar as we remain weak, divided, and isolated politically. Imagine for a moment if during the march and rally on June 26th we actually committed as a ‘united front’ to attempt to break through the police line and amass outside the security fence in protest. Although by no means an end in itself, arriving en masse at the security fence would be a symbolic gesture of actual merit. At a minimum, we would be having a very different type of conversation right now.

The key organizing work done by the Toronto Community Mobilization Network (TCMN) in the lead up to the G20 Summit was vital, but too long overdue. If the Canadian Left is to build anything like a viable ‘mass militancy,’ we need to first promote a space in which activists of all backgrounds – labour unionists, grassroots community organizers, and youth alike – can come together in open solidarity to exchange ideas, discuss strategy, and develop a shared political agenda. Launched only last year in response to the global financial crisis, the Greater Toronto Workers’ Assembly is a promising new initiative where much of this important work is already beginning to take shape. Similar initiatives surfacing in major cities nationwide would potentially lay the basis for a model grassroots democracy of national significance. But the vision of the Workers’ Assembly will not build itself; in order to move beyond the very obvious question of what we are against, we need to begin to define as a movement what exactly we are for – and more importantly, how together we may foresee getting there.

The G20 Summit may be the ‘moment’ of crisis that finally provokes us to face the present political void and begin to imagine a united, non-sectarian, and militant Canadian Left in the process. Whether we are ready to meet that challenge is now up to us to decide.

G20 Profile: Independent Journalist, Daniel Adam MacIsaac

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 06:29:00 +0000

Toronto Media Co-op

photo credit: Ali Mustafa

By Ali Mustafa

“Sunday, June 27 is a day that I will never forget,” says Adam MacIsaac, an independent journalist and environmental activist from Prince Edward Island who came to Toronto to cover the G20 Summit for the Canadian Youth Climate Coalition.

He arrived at the G20 Alternative Media Centre (AMC) at some point between 9:30 – 10:00 PM. Visibly shaken, clothes in tatters, and soaking wet from the pouring rain outside, he begins to recount in detail what happened to him.

His ordeal is finally over, but his story is only beginning. Like several of his AMC colleagues, MacIsaac came to Toronto to cover the story of the G20 Summit and, unwittingly, became a part of the story instead.

Earlier that day, at approximately noon, MacIsaac was biking towards the G20 detention centre where he planned to record video footage of a ‘jail solidarity’ rally. Between the intersection of Bloor Street West and St. Thomas Street, MacIsaac witnessed police conducting illegal searches on a group of individuals.

He stopped, pulled out his video camera, and began to document the incident.

“I kept safe space for both the police and myself. I was then asked to back up. I had shown my pass [Alternative Media Centre pass] to show that I was media and not just a nosy person with a video camera. They then ripped my pass away and had also ripped my UN badge holder away from me, and said that this is not a legitimate media pass,” MacIsaac said.

“They then tackled me down and tried to pry the camera away from my hands. There were about four police officers on top of me applying pain compliance holds against me. Even though I was totally complying, they kept on screaming, ‘Stop resisting! Stop resisting!’”

According to MacIsaac, when he was tackled to the ground, his Sony NEX camera (altogether worth approximately $6, 000) was ripped out of his hand. When he was allowed to stand up, the camera was nowhere in sight.

“I can only assume police had taken it because it had content of them performing illegal actions, and also the fact that they want to silence media producers that are actually showing what police are doing here in Toronto during the G20 Summit,” he said.

“We are showing people that they [the police] are the violent ones; that vandalism is actually not violent, but police using weapons like tear gas, rubber bullets, pepper spray, and batons is actually violent…”

By now, the situation was serious – potentially life threatening – for MacIsaac. “While I was on the ground, I was continuously screaming out that I had a pacemaker due to my heart condition. Once they took me off the ground, one police officer lifted up my shirt, but didn’t lift it up past my abdomen, and said, ‘he doesn’t have a pacemaker scar; he’s lying’ – even though I do have the scar and also the documentation in my wallet...”

With no prior warning whatsoever, and without being duly informed of his legal rights, MacIsaac was assaulted by police. “I felt a very blunt object pressed into my groin area. One officer kicked me on the left side of my ribs and I also felt something like a stun device used,” he said. “I was then placed into handcuffs and put into the back of a police car. I had asked if I was being arrested and charged for anything; they did not tell me if I was being charged.”

Badly beaten, his heart rate rising, and the muscles all over his body beginning to violently spasm, he desperately requested medical assistance. “That’s when I thought that I was hit with a taser… I had asked the officer, they denied using it; they denied using it to the doctor at the hospital as well.”

Unable to deny MacIsaac medical assistance any longer, police officers called Toronto Emergency Medical Services (EMS) to the scene. Medics quickly checked his heart rate before transporting him to Saint Joseph’s Hospital in downtown Toronto.

At the hospital, MacIsaac was transferred to a small hospital room – his injured arm stayed handcuffed to the bedpost. “I continually asked if I was being charged with anything and they would not let me know; they said, ‘Oh, we don’t have your paperwork here.’”

According to MacIsaac, he repeatedly requested – and was denied – access to legal counsel.

“While I was at the hospital, a person came in saying they were from the hospital and asked me to sign a release form. They did not really explain anything about the release form, except that it was a form that released the Saint Joseph’s Hospital from being sued,” he said. “I had then requested legal counsel to look over the document before I signed it because I was unsure what the document was, or if it was actually a staff person form Saint Joseph’s Hospital. They then denied me legal counsel and no longer tried to get me to sign that document.”

MacIsaac would spend a total of 4 hours at the hospital, receiving multiple heart-rate tests but very little actual care. “The police officer who had originally handcuffed me, badge number 9929, had then been replaced by another officer and had left… the medical staff were going to cast my finger, but the police officer actually requested that they not cast half of my hand because they didn’t know what type of detention I would be put in and that I could potentially harm other people,” he said.

“So, in the end, all they did was put two pieces of tape around my ring finger and middle finger.”

From Saint Joseph’s Hospital, MacIsaac was then taken by police to the G20 detention centre. Under unforeseen circumstances, after several hours in detention, he finally arrived at his original target destination.

“Upon arriving at the detention centre, there was no space to sit; no space to lie down – it was a concrete floor; there were porta-potties with no doors and no toilet paper; there seemed to be little access to water,” he said. “I continually asked them where the rest of my personal items were – being my video camera, my backpack, my monopod, and my water bottle. They said that it was in transit...”

Until today, a full week later, the whereabouts of his equipment remains unknown. “The officer that had processed me said, ‘Well, maybe you’re just going to have to call Toronto Police and file a complaint, or hope that a $6,000 camera was passed in.’”

Following his release, MacIsaac was warned by police that he was prohibited from attending any further G20-related events or rallies, and that a failure to comply with these orders would result in his immediate arrest.

“By detaining me they are removing my right as a citizen to peacefully protest at any gatherings against the G20,” he said in response.

“I was not provided with any food at all or any water. Being detained for seven hours without even the basic right of water, and not even knowing why you’re being detained, I’m pretty sure is against the UN Declaration of Human Rights and also quite a few human rights acts here in Canada,” he said.

“Continually asking them if I was being charged and hearing the response ‘Oh, we don’t know where your paperwork is’ really makes me concerned about what the hell you really spent your $1.3 billion on…”

But MacIsaac’s story is hardly unique. The G8-G20 Integrated Security Unit’s indiscriminate attack on demonstrators, onlookers, and journalists alike resulted in the mass arrest of over 900 people over the course of the weekend – the largest ever in Canadian history.

Raids on houses in the middle of the night, mass arrests of demonstrators on bogus charges, and abductions of key organizers who would be driven around in unmarked police vans before finally being dumped off somewhere hours later have all been thoroughly documented in a recent report compiled by the Canadian Civil Liberties Association (CCLA).

Following eye-witness accounts and personal testimonies from several released detainees, it now appears that many of the arrests that took place were executed not only to harass and intimidate journalists like MacIsaac but also to simply remove people from the streets and away from the downtown core.

On the occasion where journalists were not beaten-up or prevented from doing their job, they could only stay on site to report under the explicit knowledge that they would eventually be round-up and arrested (along with everyone else in the vicinity).

Whereas the reporters from CP24, CBC, and TVO all vacated the scene upon being given the option to do so – not only abandoning the story, but also the various demonstrators at exactly the moment when they were most vulnerable and in need of the media’s attention – AMC and other independent journalists embedded themselves within the protests to get the story, at their own personal risk.

The concept of objectivity in this instance, if it can even be said to exist all, is paramount. During moments of crisis, journalists are faced with a difficult choice between 'obedience to authority' and 'civic duty.' MacIsaac clearly made the ‘wrong’ choice, and was punished accordingly.

Without independent journalists on site to document key events and hold institutions like the police to account, stories like the G20 Summit are little more than whatever the government (and by default, the mainstream media) says they are. If freedom of the press is indeed a litmus test of a healthy and functioning democracy, then, aside from a few brave independent and mainstream journalists, Canada failed miserably.

But MacIsaac has no illusions about the motives behind his arrest and lengthy detention: “They [the police] are targeting people who are speaking out against the violence that they are using….this is Canada; it’s not a country where you don’t have free speech laws. It is a country where journalists have the right to record in public spaces. But obviously these rights of mine were severely infringed upon, and having my personal equipment taken away has caused me a lot of unneeded stress, since all my footage over the week was on my camera.”

MacIsaac and fellow AMC colleagues Jesse Rosenfeld, Amy Miller, and Lisa Walter have recently filed a formal complaint with the office of the Independent Police Review Director over allegations of police brutality against them and other journalists during the G20 Summit.

Rethinking Canada's Peacekeeping Myth

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 16:51:00 +0000

New Socialist

By Ali Mustafa

Yves Engler's latest book is an indispensable resource for students and activists alike, offering a sweeping indictment of Canadian foreign policy history in the Middle East that should not go unheeded.

Canada and Israel: Building Apartheid

by Yves Engler

168 pp, Fernwood/RED, $14.95 CAD

Countless books have been written to date on the Israel/Palestine question, exploring everything from the origins of the conflict and current obstacles to peace, to the role of the major world powers involved and vested interests at stake. But few books have yet to examine in any depth the nature of Canadian foreign policy in the Middle East, much less call into question the key political, economic, and ideological forces at play. Yves Engler's Canada and Israel: Building Apartheid not only succeeds on both counts but manages to do so with convincing authority, putting to rest the popular myth that Canada is, or has ever been, an 'honest broker' in the region.

Far from merely yet another account of the ongoing conflict or a historical survey of Zionism – both of which it no doubt is – what distinguishes this book from countless others in the field is its decided focus to put Canadian foreign policy in the Middle East, and therefore the issue of Canadian complicity, front and center in the debate. Meticulously researched and comprehensive in scope, scarcely before has Canada's historically one-sided support for Israel and the underlying geo-strategic motives behind it been so systemically documented in a single book.

Engler's overall analysis in the book is informed by the understanding of Israel as an 'apartheid state', which, according to the author, represents the antithesis of contemporary Canadian values and the worst of this country's own dark colonial past. About the ‘Nakba’ or the ethnic cleansing of over 700,000 Palestinians from their homes by Zionist militias in 1948, upon which that state of Israel was founded, Engler writes, “This was the first major act of apartheid waged against Palestinians. Refusing to allow them to return is an ongoing form of apartheid.” But the Nakba was only the ‘original sin’; under international law, Israel satisfies virtually all of the central criteria of an apartheid state – exclusive land ownership laws, a vast matrix of military checkpoints and separate ‘Jewish only’ settlements, and the ‘apartheid’ wall in the West Bank highlight only the most flagrant examples of institutionalized racism found in Israel today.

Canadian ties to Zionism are not only well rooted in this country’s past but as old as Canada itself, Engler argues. “Zionism’s roots are Christian, not Jewish,” he writes. Paying careful attention to historical accuracy, Engler outlines in detail the rise of Christian Zionism in Europe and all its major players. Although ‘biblical literalism’ provided the basic impetus for the emergence of Christian Zionism in Europe, Canada’s support for Zionism was originally spurred by loyalty to its closest ally Great Britain, the major world power and key patron of a ‘Jewish homeland’ in historic Palestine throughout much of the 20th century.

When UN Resolution 181 recommending the partition of Palestine passed in 1947, Canada faithfully supported the plan – despite the fact that, at the time, Jews in Palestine comprised only 30% of the population but would be awarded over 55% of the land. Former Canadian Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson, then one of Canada’s senior UN representatives, was instrumental in seeing the partition plan come to fruition. Contrary to popular belief, Engler argues, Canada’s support for the partition plan was due much less to the influence of a powerful Zionist lobby as to the legacy of Western anti-Semitism. As Engler writes, “The way to understand Jewish Zionist lobbying is that it pressed against an almost open door […] the anti-Semitism underlying Canada’s ‘none is too many’ policy towards Jewish refugees explains support for Israel.”

But old-fashioned geopolitics offers a far more precise explanation of Canada’s support for the creation of the state of Israel. According to the author, in order for Canada to avoid a major diplomatic rift between its two major allies at the time, Britain and the US, securing a deal that would satisfy the interests of both parties was paramount. Following the fallout of World War II, whereupon the US supplanted Britain as the new global hegemon, Canadian foreign policy in the Middle East gradually shifted towards the American sphere of influence. Under the new geopolitical order, Israel would come to represent a vital strategic asset of US imperial interests in the world, essentially serving as a Western colonial outpost in the heart of the oil-rich Middle East.

Israel’s illegal occupation of the West Bank, Gaza, and much of the Syrian Golan Heights since 1967 has done little to change the nature Canadian foreign policy in the Middle East. Already deep ideological, economic, and military ties between Canada and Israel have only grown more pronounced over time. The two countries signed the Canada-Israel Free Trade Agreement (CIFTA) in 1997, Canada’s first ever free trade agreement outside of the Western Hemisphere. But Canada’s support for Israel also assumes much more nuanced forms, although no less harmful in effect, Engler argues. For example, the charitable status of the Jewish National Fund (JNF) in Canada helped found ‘Canada Park’, an Israeli national park built atop destroyed Palestinian villages in the illegally occupied West Bank. Canadian aid and charitable funds to Israel have a long history of subsidizing illegal settlement expansion in the West Bank, among various other violations of international law.

Neither should Canada’s reflexive, one-sided support for Israel today be seen in any way as an aberration; instead, Engler insists, it must be understood in the context of a long and consistent historical continuum of Canadian foreign policy interests in the Middle East – regardless of which political party happens to be in power. Carefully consulting the historical record, Engler leaves little doubt about the overall continuity of Canada’s support for Israel, from both the so-called ‘Right’ and ‘Left’ of the political spectrum. Whether it is the Liberal Party of Paul Martin or the Conservative Party of Stephen Harper, the book dismantles not only Canada’s ‘peacekeeping myth’ but also the notion of even remote debate or political variety concerning key foreign policy issues in this country. As Engler writes, “The trajectory of this country’s foreign policy has been clear: The culmination of six decades of one-sided support, and two years into the Stephen Harper government, Canada was (at least diplomatically) the most pro-Israel country in the world.”

The author explains how under the familiar banner of ‘anti-Semitism’, the historical memory of the Holocaust has been shamefully manipulated by Canadian politicians and Zionist lobby groups alike as a means to shield Israel from legitimate criticism. Of course, such a clearly harmful and morally bankrupt foreign policy, stubbornly sustained for so long, without logical pretext, cannot survive unopposed forever. While Engler admits that the broader, grassroots Left has made significant strides in recent years to combat the widespread abuse of anti-Semitism for political gain and the growing ties between Canada and Israel in general, it remains a long and uphill struggle.

Although Engler flatly rejects the baseless charges of anti-Semitism routinely made against vocal critics of Israel such as, for example, the organizers of Israeli Apartheid Week (IAW), he claims that the plight of Palestinians receives much more international attention than do the people of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Haiti, or Tibet, for that matter. “The point of our protest must not just be Palestinian suffering but rather Canadian complicity with that suffering,” Engler argues. He goes on to write, “By not focusing on Canada’s responsibility for the conflict Palestinian solidarity activists have opened themselves up to attacks regarding their single-minded devotion to Israel’s crimes. To undercut this self-serving argument, which is often an insinuation of anti-Semitism, it is important to make our critique of Canadian foreign policy more explicit.”

Here Engler is uncharacteristically a little careless, unwittingly playing into the hands of the very same political forces whose aims he so skillfully and thoroughly exposes throughout the book. In reality, Palestine solidarity activists such as those who organize IAW are no more blameworthy for giving specific attention to the Israel/Palestine question than organizers of Congo Awareness Week are for focusing on the DRC or the Canada Haiti Action Network for focusing on Haiti – both of which, it might be added, showcase clear examples of Canadian complicity. Any activist, among whom I might count Engler, knows that organizers simply cannot do everything. They are overworked, outstretched, and under-resourced; the fact that events such as those mentioned above even happen at all is an achievement in itself. So long, I think, as our activism remains rooted in a universal standard of social justice, and we strive wherever possible to highlight common links and build genuine solidarity between various struggles in Canada and abroad, it is possible to take up a given cause without necessarily compromising the integrity of our aims or falling victim to narrow parochialism.

Regarding the growth of Palestine solidarity in Canada in recent years, and the level of international attention surrounding it, Engler fails to acknowledge the degree to which Palestinians themselves have made it possible – both through their own sustained resistance, and practical appeals to international solidarity in the form of the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) campaign. He argues that it has been largely the belligerence of Israel and, most recently, the brutal military assault on Gaza in 2008/2009 that has caused ordinary Canadians to begin to see Israel for what it is and question Canadian foreign policy in the Middle East, resulting in the largest Palestine solidarity demonstrations in this country’s history. But Israel has always been openly belligerent – this is nothing new. In fact, it has been the growth of the Palestine solidarity movement across Canada – led by Palestinians – that has put the Israel/Palestine question on the political agenda like never before, and channeled these large demonstrations into part of an organized campaign (as opposed to short-lived expressions of outrage). This is an unintentional, yet critical oversight – one that puts far too much emphasis on Israel itself as a measure of public opinion.

But make no mistake, Canada is a real actor in this book. While the trajectory of Canadian foreign policy in the Middle East has been more or less consistent over the past six decades, Engler is sure to carefully put Canada’s aims in their unique historical context. There is no grand plot or shadow Zionist lobby manipulating Canadian foreign policy from afar (i.e. Walt and Mearsheimer), nor is Canada merely subordinated to the whims of US imperial interests; instead Canada is authentically portrayed as a power in its own right, equipped with its own geopolitical aims and interests. Engler’s mistrust of Canada’s motives in the Middle East is not borne out of cynicism or spite but rather a clear historical pattern of harmful Canadian intervention abroad. No doubt, as someone who admittedly began his career as a writer by studying Canada’s shameful role in Haiti, he is surely well versed in the ugly side of this country’s foreign policy tradition elsewhere in the world.

The scope and breadth of the book is initially quite daunting and even a little overwhelming, leaving virtually no historical fact or detail uncovered, yet avoids becoming at all pedantic or trivial in outlook. Each chapter builds fittingly upon the one prior to create a comprehensive historical narrative; anyone still not convinced after reading this book of Canada’s one-sided support for Israel and the fundamental need to change the nature of this country’s foreign policy may well never be swayed. For such a relatively short book (in total, only approximately 150 pages) it is surprising just how much history is covered in this gem of a resource. Written in a simple, lucid style, Engler allows the facts to speak for themselves, yet does not shy away from announcing exactly where he stands.

Canadians can no longer plead ignorance of what is being done abroad in their name. This book not only gives its readers the tools to understand Canadian complicity in Israeli apartheid, but in doing so, puts the onus on us to take action in order hold our own government to account. Engler’s proposed solution is as blunt and straightforward as his prose; not wasting words, he writes, “Only when Canadians understand the reality of Israel, when they learn that their government takes the side of Israel despite its glaring human rights violations, will change be possible.”

According to the author, supporting the growing BDS campaign and targeting all Canadian institutions with any political, financial, or military ties to Israel is a good way to begin to take meaningful action. Engler also makes a few recommendations of his own, including: halting all Canadian weapons sales to Israel, revoking the JNF’s charitable status in Canada, and boycotting Chapters/Indigo (which the author himself has done with this very book). Canada’s foreign policy history in the Middle East and its one-sided support for Israel are rife with hypocrisy; this book is a welcome remedy to that hypocrisy.

The Gaza Freedom Flotilla Attack: Arrogance of Power or Paranoia of Apartheid State on the Brink?

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 16:30:00 +0000

By Ali Mustafa

International outrage

Shock and outrage continues to grow worldwide over Israel's deadly attack on a humanitarian aid convoy bound for Gaza a week ago. Over 600 civilian activists from at least 40 different countries took part in the convoy, carrying 10,000 tons of vital aid, including food, medicine and medical equipment, reconstruction materials, as well as various other basic goods that are arbitrarily banned entry into Gaza by Israel. Israeli naval commandos raided all six ships of the convoy 70 nautical miles offshore in international waters, killing 9 people (8 of which were Turkish citizens) and seriously wounding others. Following the attack, hundreds of the activists were detained but have since been released and deported back home, along with the injured and the bodies of those killed.

International condemnation in response the attack has been resolute and widespread. Norway, Brazil, and Spain were only a few of the many countries whose leaders fiercely censured Israel for its actions and openly called for an international investigation into the attack. Several other countries have recalled their ambassadors and suspended all diplomatic relations with Israel, including Nicaragua, South Africa, and of course Turkey – only further adding to the list of countries to either limit or entirely cut ties with Israel since its brutal military assault on Gaza in 2008/2009.

Until the attack, Turkey was by far Israel's closest and most strategically important ally in the region. Having developed deep political, economic, and military ties in recent years, the diplomatic fallout between the two countries is not only grave but may prove beyond repair. Aside from immediately recalling the country's ambassador to Israel, Turkey's Prime Minister Tayyip Erdogen unequivocally branded the attack a 'bloody massacre' and a 'historic mistake.' As a predominantly Muslim country and a major regional power in its own right, Turkey's rift with Israel represents a significant shift in the overall balance of forces in the region.

While much of the world fully repudiated Israel's actions, the major world powers have once again remained shamefully silent. It is no coincidence at all that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was in Canada meeting with Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper at the time of the attack (a short week or so after Ontario's Premier Dalton Mcguinty was in Israel on a trade mission of his own, it might be added). In front of the whole world Harper stood side by side with Netanyahu and said nothing of the attack except to express 'deep regret' for the lives lost, eager to confirm, it would seem, Canada's status as quite literally Israel's staunchest ally in the world today.

As for the US, those expecting a paradigm shift in US foreign policy in the Middle East will also be sorely disappointed. Mounting speculation in the mainstream media of strained relations between the US and Israel as a result of the attack has been largely overstated and should be met with open skepticism. Considering the muted official response from the White House, we can expect to see unconditional US support for Israel not only continue to thrive but very likely reach new heights of hypocrisy.

Whether the latest events in the region will result in the international isolation of Israel and serve as a catalyst to the growing 'Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions' (BDS) movement remains to be seen; what is clear, however, is that Israel will never be viewed internationally the same way again and is increasingly becoming a liability to its powerful allies and benefactors in the West. Because the major world powers cannot be expected to act and hold Israel to account for its actions, it should be the responsibility of the international community – people of conscience all over the world – to now fill the void.

Justifying the unjustifiable

Immediately following the attack, Netanyahu and his government were quick to defend Israel's actions, alleging hypocrisy in the media coverage, terrorist links of the activists killed, and even self-defense of the Israeli soldiers involved in the raid who were allegedly attacked with everything from metal pipes and bats to knives and guns. Israel continues to flatly reject UN calls for an international investigation into the attack (buttressed of course by US and Canadian support), claiming the military is already conducting its own internal investigation. The idea that an investigation into a crime would be allowed to be conducted by the criminals themselves is so absurd as to warrant no further comment. Nor would it be the first time Israel has refused to cooperate with an international probe, the military assault on Gaza being the most obvious.

The official claim that the activists on the ship initiated the attack and that the Israeli commandos were merely defending themselves defies common logic – as international legal expert Richard Falk argues, if anyone on the ship had the right of self-defense it was the activists on board. In addition, for the activists on the ship to engage, or even prepare to engage, Israel in any other way but self-defense would not only be an act of sheer stupidity but would fatally undermine the purpose of the mission and it own aims. The common refrain by the Israeli government and its apologists that Israel's actions are motivated by 'security concerns' and the 'threat of terrorism' simply do not ring true against an aid convoy consisting of civilian activists. Just imagine for a moment what the response would be were these the justifications of, for example, Iran. It is unthinkable, in fact; the world would be preparing for war right now.

Why didn't the flotilla unload the cargo in either Israel or Egypt, both of which offered to deliver the aid to Gaza? Simple: the purpose of the flotilla was to break the siege, not further legitimize it by operating within its prescribed framework and the dictates of the powers enforcing it. Besides, it is not altogether unlikely that Israel's offer to receive and deliver the aid was one that they had no intention to fulfill, knowing very well that the activists could never agree to it. In addition, Turkey's PM himself verified that all vessels in the convoy were duly inspected for any weapons in advance.

As for the claims that the purpose of the blockade is to punish Hamas and prevent it from re-stocking arms, the real siege on Gaza existed long before Hamas came to power in 2006 (and is in large part the impetus that propelled them to power over the corrupt PA in the first place). If the only obstacle to peace right now and the lifting of the siege is Hamas rule, then why is it that Israel continues to illegally construct the wall, expropriate further land, and expand new settlements in the West Bank – where Hamas is not even in power? The siege on Gaza has little to do with Hamas and is merely a reflection of Israeli state policy overall.

Paranoia of apartheid

But is it even possible for a 'normal' state to behave this way? Was this attack a symptom of the arrogance of power, or rather the paranoia of a state in the last throes of a losing legitimacy crisis? Are we witnessing merely a state in crisis, or an apartheid state rapidly unraveling in its own internal contradictions?

Israel, it is clear, suffers from an acute state of cognitive dissonance – the obvious and irreconcilable tension between the idea of a 'Jewish state', and the reality that it can only find fulfillment via the expulsion, dispossession, and physical separation (or elimination) of another people. Rather than change its behaviour and resolve the dilemma, Israel attempts to justify its actions to the world (and to itself) by charging its critics with anti-Semitism or terrorist links, or when all else fails, as all powers do, it responds to this untenable position with brute, naked force. What cannot be achieved by consent or other conventional means is carried out by force as a least preferred, but always ready resort.

Israel cannot be both a 'democracy' and a settler-colonial state built on Jewish exclusivity and military power any more than it can claim to want peace with the Palestinians, yet openly reject all basic preconditions for a viable and just resolution. The attack must be understood as a telling expression of the Israeli psyche and sense of paranoia in its most bare (and brutal) form. What Israel fundamentally fails to realize is that so long as colonization and occupation remain the core pillars upon which it exists, it will never truly be safe, accepted by the world, and free itself from this paranoia.

When the whole world is watching, brute force no longer works as a way of punishing a people into submission, much less winning over public opinion. The fact that Israel attacked an international humanitarian aid convoy on the high seas reveals just how desperate it is, and insane it has become, to maintain the apartheid status quo. The attack is alarming not so much for the scope of violence as the sheer recklessness of it and what was at stake.

An international crime

This attack may well be the act that finally opens the eyes of the international community (and some allied states as well) to the reality of Israel. During last week's attack, the true face of Israel was exposed for the whole world to see – one that unfortunately Palestinians know all too well. So long as it was Palestinians getting butchered it was allowable, but to attack an aid convoy in international waters filled with civilians on a humanitarian mission – including parliamentarians, journalists, and activists – all of the familiar rhetoric/propaganda that surrounds the conflict is defused and Israel's fragility is laid bare unlike ever before.

No longer is the Israel/Palestine conflict happening somewhere 'over there' between 'them'; it has taken on an entirely new international dimension and level of awareness. When the furor over this tragedy recedes from the news headlines, will Palestinians once again be forgotten or portrayed as hapless terrorists refusing to accept their given fate, or will the international community now finally begin to pay attention?

The analogy is often made between Israel and Apartheid South Africa, and the comparison is no doubt an unavoidable one with countless parallels (curfews, pass laws, Bantustans etc.), but Israel's 'Sharpeville' or 'Soweto' this most certainly is not. During the Sharpeville Massacre of March 21, 1960, for example, South African police mercilessly and indiscriminately gunned down unarmed Black civilians who organized a protest against the Apartheid regime, killing at least 69 people. The attack was a defining moment in the internal anti-Apartheid struggle, advancing international awareness about the plight of Black South Africans and serving as a rallying point to isolate the Apartheid regime. Such an analogy in this case fails to capture the true magnitude of Israel's actions a week ago. Israel's recent attack is even more flagrant than anything comparable before it, since it was carried out against internationals in international waters – not Palestinians who are seen as expendable and easily absorbed into the prevailing colonial discourse of 'security concerns', 'terrorist threats', or 'collateral damage.'

Remembering Gaza

Of course, this latest crime must be seen in the wider context of an even greater, ongoing crime: the brutal and illegal siege on Gaza, now officially in its third year. In fact, Gaza is one of the most pronounced expressions of Israel's apartheid reality, many Gazans being 'internal refugees' that were displaced during the 'Nakba' of 1948 upon which the state of Israel was founded. According to a recent UN report, the siege on Gaza has completely crippled the local economy, leaving 75% of residents hungry and more than 40% unemployed. Thousands of refugees whose houses were destroyed in the 2008/2009 invasion have been unable to rebuild their lives, and health and education levels have collapsed. UN statistics show that around 70% of Gazans live on less than $1 a day and a further 80% are dependent on UN humanitarian aid to survive. Security Council Resolution 1860, passed during the military assault on Gaza in 2009, calls for ending the blockade and allowing humanitarian assistance to reach Gaza without restriction. The flotilla was a response to this reality and a bold statement of both the power of international solidarity and the resilience of the people of Gaza.

Our only course of action...

Israel's latest transgression of international and humanitarian law is a crime not only against the people of Gaza but the international community at large. In light of the severity of Israel's actions a week ago and the widespread international condemnation that has followed, it is evident that the proverbial crack in the facade of Israel as a 'normal' state is growing; the only forces currently keeping the artifice together are complicit allies like Canada and the US, and the relative inaction of us all. But if there was ever a time to give Israel the 'South African treatment' it is now. Just like Apartheid South Africa before it, Israel must be met with a sustained, worldwide campaign of BDS until it complies fully with international law. As the great 19th century writer Victor Hugo reminds us, “All the forces of the world are not so powerful as an idea whose time has come.” It is up to us, the international community, to decide whether or not that time is now upon us.

'For Venezuela, There is No Going Back': A Discussion with Federico Fuentes and Kiraz Janicke

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 19:50:00 +0000

Upside Down World

By Ali Mustafa

As Venezuela's Bolivarian Revolution enters a new decade of struggle and defiantly advances towards its goal of '21st Century Socialism,' serious challenges to the future of the process emerging from both inside and outside the country still abound. As a result, key questions surrounding Venezuela's mounting tensions with the West, the role played by its fiery and outspoken leader Hugo Chavez, and the future of the process itself remain as relevant today as ever before. Australian-based journalists and long-time Venezuela solidarity activists Federico Fuentes and Kiraz Janicke have been carefully following Venezuela's ongoing political transformation for several years now, countering mainstream media Spin and providing invaluable on-the-ground coverage and analysis about the process as it unfolds. I had the fortunate opportunity to sit down and speak with them both in Toronto before they were set to return to Caracas, following a 10-day Canadian solidarity tour.

Ali Mustafa: Over a decade now has passed since the beginning of the Bolivarian Revolution in Venezuela. Can you provide an overview of the type of gains that have been made since President Hugo Chavez has come to power and what Venezuela looks like today?

Federico Fuentes: Well, I think the first thing to note in regards to the gains that have been made in the 10 years of the Venezuelan Revolution is the huge improvement that has occurred in peoples' daily lives. The fact that the previously excluded majority of people now have access to free health care, free education, unemployment has fallen by more than half of what is was before, the level of poverty has decreased, and many other statistics and social indicators that show that general Venezuelan living standards have improved dramatically. But also extremely important has been the active political participation of people in daily life; we are talking about a country where, literally, something like 80 percent of the nation were excluded and felt that they were not represented at all by the sort of representative democracy and two party system that had existed.

It's the collapse of that system and the important movement for change that erupted – prior to Chavez's election but, of course, which then has been stimulated even further by Chavez's election – in the re-writing of the new constitution that's brought about these important gains that Venezuelans have been able to achieve... This reflected itself in important mobilizations that occurred particularly in 2001, 2002, 2003 that defeated a military coup and an attempt by the capitalist class to strangle the economy, which of course meant that the government basically was unable to carry out a lot of the 'missions' that it first set out for itself, but through that struggle was able to move into a position where it could begin to carry out a lot of these social programs, and as always places emphasis on the people involved in them. I think one of the most exciting things is, for instance, the health care social missions – it's not just that free health care is now being provided but that this health care is being carried out by the people, for the people.

So, I think the Venezuela that exists today is fundamentally different from what it was like 10, 11 years ago in the social aspect, in the political aspect – and I think it's a Venezuela that today, in its large bulk, refuses to go back to what existed before. That's one of the most common things that you'll find amongst Venezuelan people: that no matter what problems, or whatever they may be encountering, they strongly feel that there is no going back to what Venezuela was like before and they are willing to die to defend what they've won.

Kiraz Janicke: Yeah, I think that for the first time the Venezuelan people have a government that's actually truly independent of US imperialism. But of course in addition to all of the social gains, one of the most fundamental changes is this kind of mass political awakening of the Venezuelan people and the amount of participation of the Venezuelan people in political life through many instances of grassroots participatory democracy. For instance, the communal councils that since the end of 2005 have developed and spread all around the country. You have now approximately 35,000 of these communal councils...where the highest decision making body is the General Assembly of the local community, and importantly they have the ability to recall elected officials or elected spokespeople. This is something that was also another major democratic gain of the 1999 Constitution...which was the first constitution that the Venezuelan people were ever able to democratically decide upon themselves. They democratically voted on that constitution in a popular referendum, and that in many ways has provided a legal framework for further changes. But the real driving force behind the change has been the mobilization of the people.

Initially when the Chavez government came to power, Chavez said he thought that there was a third way between Capitalism and Socialism and that it was possible to create Capitalism with a human face. For every time that the government attempted to implement reforms in the interest of the poor majority of Venezuelans, they were met with extremely violent resistance by the traditional ruling elite; for instance, the carrying out of the coup in 2002, the bosses lockout of the oil industry, and so on. It's actually been through this process that Chavez himself came out and said that, 'I've come to the conclusion that it's not simply possible to reform the system but it's necessary to change the system entirely,' and he came out and made his famous speech at the Porto Alegre World Social Forum in 2005, where he called for 'Socialism of the 21st century'. And that really has sparked a huge debate in Venezuela... People are very politically aware, people are participating and debating and discussing an alternative to the capitalist system, which is currently in crisis.

AM: Can you further elaborate on the formation of these communal councils and how they fit into the notion of participatory democracy currently taking root in Venezuela?

FF: Well, when Chavez was elected he said that the only way to get rid of poverty was to give power to the people, and I think that the communal councils are probably the most concrete example of that. The background to the communal councils is that throughout the 90's there was an explosion of community organizing – particularly in the poor areas in Caracas, but also in some of the other large cities – and what you saw was the emergence of a lot of small, localized committees dealing with a lot of issues: health, education, housing, roads, water, but all campaigning around local issues. The communal councils emerge out of that necessity to bring together all of these committees, so that rather than being just simply campaigning groups to demand that the government or state do things, it's actually organizing those communities so that they themselves can take control over these issues.

The communal councils today represent 200-400 families in an urban area, 20-50 families in a rural area (given that they are more spread out), and it's essentially the community getting together to discuss what are their most urgent needs and, within those needs, which are the ones that they as a community...can collectively come up with a plan for how to combat those problems... The emphasis is, again, not on asking someone else to do it, but doing it themselves – of course with the help of the government – but really empowering the people through that process.

KJ: And there's a vision that is being presented now – and it's a very new development in Venezuela – that is, the formation of what they call communes. These are more than just an aggregate number of communal councils but also other organizations such as cooperatives in a particular geographical area that will coordinate grassroots decision-making on a larger scale than what a communal council can do. For instance, a communal council can make a decision over a smaller project in their local community but they can't necessarily make a decision to build a new school because that's something that affects a much larger area. But the important aspect of these communes is the idea that they have communally owned property or control over the means of production in their local area. So, the idea is not only that communities can get together and make decisions about how resources are distributed; they can also own the means of production that benefit these communities and collectively control them...

This fits into the idea that Chavez has spoken of many times and was part of his proposed reform referendum in 2007 of what he refers to as 'creating a new geometry of power in Venezuela,' and essentially this is a vision of creating a new superstructure that's different to the old superstructure of the traditional Venezuelan state. So, in addition to creating the communal councils and the communes, there's a vision of coordinating the activities of communes on a broader scale; so, for instance, creating communal towns or communal cities and then ultimately what they call communal territories. And just before we left Venezuela, there was a new law passed called the 'Law of the Federal Government Council', and the idea is that it will create a space where these representatives or spokespeople for these grassroots institutions – as well as representatives of the traditional structures such as governors and mayors and the national executive – can participate...This is one key example where you see an attempt to decentralize power from the traditional structures of the capitalist state...

AM: Typically, media coverage surrounding Venezuela tends to represent one of two extremes: uncritical praise and acclamation from supporters on one hand, and of course, especially in the Western mainstream media, a sort of reflexive, de-contextualized vilification of Chavez on the other. As two individuals who have spent much time covering Venezuela both inside and outside the country, what is the main misconception about the Bolivarian Revolution that you would like to dispel?

KJ: Well, for me, I think the main misconception or lie that is often repeated in the media is the idea that this is an undemocratic government – that Chavez is a dictator. Most of the international media overwhelmingly focuses on Chavez, but they always ignore the fact that the Bolivarian movement, which is led by Chavez, is a movement that's made up by millions of people that support Chavez: the workers, the urban poor, campesinos, students, sectors from right across Venezuelan society... They feel that the Chavez government is implementing policies that are in their interests. If you look at all the opinion polls over the years, they will show that Chavez has consistently higher levels of support within Venezuelan society, and it's always hovering around 60% support. And it's not only that people are just passive supporters of Chavez, they are active supporters as well, and active participants in the Bolivarian Revolution.

FF: Yeah, I think that definitely one of the main myths of the media is this idea of Venezuela drifting towards an undemocratic dictatorship – which is ironic because I think there is possibly no other country in the world that has more electoral processes than Venezuela. Almost every year there is an election, and there has been at least one example of an election that the government has lost, and that was the Constitutional reform vote in 2007, which generally under a dictatorship doesn't happen... The other major lie is this idea of the restriction of the freedom of the press; I think it's an important issue, particularly in the case of RCTV [Radio Caracas Televisión Internacional]...It's worth just quickly explaining that no TV station has ever been shut down in Venezuela. What we have is RCTV, which in 2007 – after having actively participated in provoking and carrying out a coup that, by law, would have easily justified them being taken off air in any country – was not taken off air; instead, their license was up for renewal...and the government, or the broadcasting authority, decided that at this time it was not in its best interests to continue to give a license to a company that would use it to destabilize the country.

Then, again, at the beginning of this year, it became a scandal internationally because, even though we were told in 2007 that RCTV had been shut down, it was still broadcasting (it was broadcasting on cable). But this was not a question of the government silencing dissent; this was a TV station that was operating illegally: their paperwork said they were an international channel, but by law – and everyone accepted this, including RCTV afterwards – they were a national channel, because more than 80% of their production was made in Venezuela for a Venezuelan audience. So they needed to renew their paperwork, and the government said that until they did, they would be temporarily removed from air. Once the paperwork was put in, they would be able to broadcast again on cable. There are many other examples, but that's I suppose the biggest one that's always in the media.

KJ: Yeah, well, as an independent journalist, I monitor the media everyday about Venezuela and look at what all different kinds of news sources say about the government – both news sources internally and externally – and I would have to say that the kind of manipulation and distortion of Venezuelan reality is something that I've never seen anywhere else. There's an Australian journalist and documentary film-maker, John Pilger, who said that, 'What you're seeing is really an unprecedented propaganda campaign that's being waged against the Chavez government' –

FF: It's a media war –

KJ: It really is a media war. And I think if you go to Venezuela and see what the media says, this will become clear immediately. You often hear the claim that there is no freedom of speech and so on, but internally in Venezuela there are more than 50 daily newspapers and about 45 of those newspapers support the opposition and are constantly attacking the government everyday – including having front page headlines calling for the military overthrow of the government... Then you have those 4 newspapers that support the Bolivarian process; and then you have one newspaper that, you know, presents itself as being neutral. So, on the level of the print media, the opposition to the government is overwhelmingly dominant... A lot of the television stations are extremely hostile as well.

The other important aspect to note is that, as a result of the Bolivarian process, you actually have a massive explosion of community media in Venezuela, in particular community radio stations in the Barrios...but also a number of community television stations and other independent media websites and so on. So this is like the first time where a lot of the grassroots groups and Venezuelan poor are actually getting to participate themselves in the production of the their own media; whereas prior to the Chavez government, they didn't have a voice in politics or the media. They were just excluded.

AM: For all the popular support he continues to enjoy in Venezuela, Chavez still remains quite a polarizing figure here in the West and to some extent even in Latin America, portrayed as everything from a dictator and demagogue, to a liberator and socialist hero. How much does being the face of the revolution make him an easy target and feed into such facile caricatures?

FF: I think it's undeniable the role Chavez has played in that, what I mentioned before, profound level of local organizing that exploded in the 90's but which was kind of very fragmented and dispersed and localized. What Chavez, more than a person, but as an image, represents is a national project that unites all of these people towards building a new Venezuela. That dynamic bond that exists between Chavez and the people has really been the motor force that has been able to move this process forward. Now of course, the media then tries to use this as evidence of Chavez trying to be a demagogue and a populist, but I think what is clear at every step of the way is that – unlike many of the other cases where you've had a situation where a particular individual has used that power to reinforce it – Chavez has constantly moved to try to empower and organize the people, making it clear to them that the revolution is more than just him, that the revolution is the people and it is with the people that it will continue to move forward.

As he always says, one day he is going to die, so this thing has to keep going with or without him (hopefully he will be there for a while longer) and I think one of the key examples of that is the construction of the United Socialist Party of Venezuela [PSUV] – that is, the attempt to bring together the most politically militant people to discuss and debate the way forward. So, of course it makes him a target and I think it makes it harder to understand from the outside. I think it's easy to see a particular, partial vision of that situation, but I think there's a historical explanation, and I certainly believe that that bond between Chavez and the people has been so fundamental for where the revolution is today...

AM: As phenomenal as the social transformation in Venezuela has no doubt been, at the same time we also see tremendous gains being made in other countries in Latin America – Bolivia for example – but not the same type of virulent attacks from the media or the organized Right in general. Why do you think that is?

FF: I think there are a number of aspects to that. The first aspect is the fact that Evo Morales is a much harder target to personally attack – I mean it's much easier to target Chavez who comes from the military; they like to talk about how he attempted to carry out a coup in 1992, but which was in fact a rebellion by a section of the military and the people against the government. So it's easy to try and portray a picture of...'This guy comes from the military;' 'he's carried out a coup;' 'he's a strong-man,' and so on, which is very different when you look at Evo, the first Indigenous president in a country where the overwhelming majority are Indigenous. To put it into context, Evo got elected in 2005; in 2003 the president who was there at the time [Gonzalo Sanchez de Lozada] literally spoke Spanish with an English accent. In a country where actually there's a lot of people who don't even speak Spanish and their first language is an Indigenous language, this guy's second language was Spanish and his first was English... So, in that kind of context to attack a guy that emerges from a poor peasant family, who goes on to lead social struggles, be part of that social movement, and today represents the first Indigenous president is a little bit harder, I think, to attack.

But that doesn't mean that they haven't attacked Evo as well. We shouldn't forget that in 2008 there was an attempted coup against Evo... The social base of that was a particularly virulently racist, White, upper-middle-class in the east of Bolivia... This was reflected in open calls of things like, you know, 'Let's overthrow this shitty little Indian' – that's how they used to refer to him, and some probably still do now, except they are on the back foot because the social movements pushed them back. When the Constituent Assembly met in Sucre, there were literally racial lynch mobs that went and physically attacked Indigenous people there... That virulent racism in Bolivia, the media tried to portray it as if Evo was responsible for that; they talk about how the Indigenous, now that they are in power, are going to do a 'racial revenge' against the White people (ironically accepting the fact that the White people who dominated for so long were doing that to the Indigenous people) but Evo has made it clear that that's not his mission; his mission is to involve all Bolivians, but understanding that the Indigenous people have a central role to play....

KJ: Yeah, I think it's particularly because Venezuela has really played a leading role – it's the spearhead of this push for independence from the US in Latin America... When there was that attempted coup in Bolivia in September of 2008, it was partly because the strategy of US imperialism at the time was to pick on what they thought was the weakest link in terms of this growing shift to the Left in Latin America. But in fact what happen was the opposite occurred and the upshot of that was that, as Fred said, the Morales government came out of that politically strengthened. But I think that they really concentrate on Venezuela because it is playing a leading role in the region, and they want to really try and rollback this process of integration and independence that's happening in Latin America. So you have not only this kind of media campaign against Chavez...but also an ideological or diplomatic offensive against Venezuela. Every day you hear United States diplomats and even Canadian officials, like Peter Kent [Canadian Minister of State for Foreign Affairs of the Americas], come out and make some statement attacking Venezuela...

The other aspect is the increased militarization of the region to put pressure on the revolution that's developing in Venezuela – so you'll see that with the reactivation of the United State's fourth fleet, which was deactivated after WWII; the7 US military bases in Colombia; the 4 extra military based in Panama; the US-backed coup in Honduras; and now more than 15,000 US troops in Haiti, which I think has a geo-strategic importance for imperialism....however, I think it's not all going imperialism's way. The fact that all the Latin American and Caribbean countries came out recently and said, 'We will form an organization without the US and Canada' just gives you another kind of indication of how much this shift to the Left and independence has occurred....

AM: The organized Right and the traditional ruling elite are no longer in political power in Venezuela, yet they continue to act as an irrepressible and resilient destabilizing force in the country. What can you tell us about this bloc and how much of a threat do they really pose in Venezuela today?

FF: I think the real threat comes from Washington. This opposition within Venezuela is very much backed by Washington and that is what gives it a lot more strength and visibility internationally. But that doesn't mean that the opposition doesn't continue to have strong allies within Venezuela – as Kiraz said, they continue to own the overwhelming majority of the media; economically, they continue to have very firm control over important parts of the economy that they are able to use to pressure the government; and they have a solid base, particularly among upper-middle-class people that constantly come out to vote against Chavez. So that's why we see, even ten years later, most elections tend to be split 60 – 40 percent; some will be a bit different and get down to 50 - 50, but generally the percentage tends to rely more on the fluctuation of the vote for-or-against the revolution than necessarily the vote in favor of the opposition. The opposition kind of stays steady, its about 4 or 5 million, and they will consistently come out to vote, and it's this bloc that the opposition leaders have been able to maintain through their control of the media and the economy. They are certainly a threat and they have to be taken very seriously, but I think they have to be taken very seriously in the context of what they represent, as I said, as part of that broader front internationally because that's where a lot of their funding comes from...

I think it's also important to note – I don't think that the only threats come purely from US policy, other regimes, and the opposition within Venezuela, but I think that there is also that opposition internal to the process itself; that of course doesn't express itself as being against Chavez (because obviously no one would accept anyone within the process who was against Chavez) but that continually expresses itself in attempts to sabotage government initiatives... This has been expressed in many ways as the process has radicalized. We've seen different people leaving the revolution; the most recent example being, for instance, the Governor of Lara, Henri Falcon, who was elected less than 2 years ago as a PSUV Governor but today has left the Party and has already started to say that he won't be implementing certain policies that the government is bringing in. So, I think it's also important to realize that within the process itself there are different ideas and there is a battle there. There are sectors within the process that reflect that pressure from outside to hold back this process.

AM: That 60 - 40 split is really important and indicates that, as much support as Chavez may enjoy and as deep as the gains of the revolution have been, there still exists a sort of tenuous balance in moving from election to election and referendum to referendum that jeopardizes the stability of the revolution and can cause it to implode at any point. A lot of it seems to be attributed to low voter turnout or abstentions when it comes to key referendums. To what do you attribute this lack of voter turnout (whether it's a sense of disillusionment or complacency or so on) and how much of a threat does this pose to the revolution moving forward?

FF: As I said, the opposition have maintained a pretty solid voting bloc, and it doesn't really increase much; what fluctuates is how many people come out to vote or not. I think there are both circumstantial and more profound reasons for that. The circumstantial reasons are that when Chavez is up for election, the people come out and vote because they understand and believe that Chavez is the leader, but many of the other governors and mayors and National Assembly deputies don't have that same respect or level of support from the people...

I think the other challenge is that – Fidel Castro said it to Chavez best: 'Look, there are 4 million people that pretty solidly vote against you, but there are not 4 million oligarchs or 4 million capitalists,' so it's also a question of how do we, as I mentioned, break down that economic power, that media power.

AM: Because the Bolivarian Revolution, like much of the Left resurgence in the region, has taken place primarily in the electoral arena and operated largely within the existing framework of state institutions, what role do grassroots social movements still play in the life of the revolution? To what extent have they been absorbed or collapsed into the state or undercut from acting as a countervailing force to state power?

FF: Well, I think the important aspect is to understand the historical context. For instance, unlike in Bolivia where Evo Morales was elected as president after at least two presidents were overthrown and there were powerful mobilizations of large, national social movements with a history of struggle, with Chavez's election there was a huge sentiment of resistance and opposition to neoliberalism and a huge level of local organizing but you can't really talk about powerful social movements like what you had in Bolivia...

I think today there is a challenge. As these new institutions are built from the bottom-up by the people, together with the government of Chavez, they are really set up in parallel to the old existing structures which the government has found don't work. You know that if you have got to set up a special mission to carry out health-care when you have a Ministry of Health, it's because you're basically accepting that the Ministry of Health doesn't work....and that's why there is a necessity to create a new parallel structure. But the problem is how long can you maintain this? How long can you maintain funding for two separate states? Because as the old is dying and the new is being born, the old, of course, is going to try and gain a stranglehold over the new emerging institutions – and sometimes you see that corruption and bureaucratism that infects the old begin to infect the new as well... These are things that predate the Chavez government but that still exist and haven't been wiped out, and are almost impossible to wipe out in one day – so there's that constant tension...

KJ: Yeah, I think there's a real struggle because the Venezuelan government really inherited a capitalist state in crisis, a capitalist state that was unable to even meet the basic daily needs of the Venezuelan people, so the government has had to focus a lot on addressing these basic needs...but I think how this will be resolved depends a lot on the internal struggles within Venezuela – particularly the struggle of grassroots sectors, workers, urban poor, the key activists and militants in the communal councils and the ability to really push and develop these new structures – but also on the strengthening of the PSUV and the idea of creating a political instrument that can drive the process forward...

AM: Venezuela is one of the largest oil producing and exporting countries in the world and, as a result, is heavily dependent on the resource of oil, which has largely funded and bankrolled the revolutionary gains made in Venezuela today. Firstly, is this something that Venezuelans are conscious of, and secondly, is this the principle obstacle to the deepening of the revolution in the long-term?

FF: I think Venezuelans are very clear that their economy has historically been highly distorted by the role of the oil industry... Of course, the challenge to that is how do you diversify? How do you start to develop local industry? How do you start to have technological transfer, where the Venezuelan government can stimulate a new productive economy? And of course there are ecological factors to this... I think that this dependency on oil is a challenge that's hard to break; it's not that easy to move an economy away from oil... It's just easier to rely on oil funds – the idea that oil money can solve all of our problems.

But I don't think that's the principle obstacle, and I also don't think that the principle obstacle, in and of itself, is imperialism's attack against Venezuela. I actually think that perhaps the foremost obstacle that the revolution faces is that challenge that exists within the process, because it's those sectors – that act to sabotage the governments actions, to hold back the revolution, to confuse the masses – that pave the way for imperialism to be able to carry out its actions... Because it's when internally you have people who wear the red hat, wear the red t-shirt, and salute Chavez – but are doing the opposite – where you start to see, for instance, discontent that perhaps can grow amongst the people; that internal enemy that exists in the revolution that put forward reformist solutions that say, 'Really, we should just co-exist with private capital and not see ourselves in a permanent battle against capital,' and that, 'Maybe if we conciliate with Washington and extend our hand, they will accept us,' when in fact Washington has made it clear that it wants to not just get rid of Chavez but reverse the whole process... So in order to defend and prepare the revolution, it needs the maximum amount of, of course, discussion, debate, criticism and so on, but also unity and strength putting forward a revolutionary alternative...

KJ: I think the question of oil is pervasive in every sphere of Venezuelan life – politically, economically, culturally. This kind of struggle to change Venezuela and its dependency on oil is very difficult...it means that, of course, the Venezuelan economy is extremely vulnerable to the world price of oil. I've heard arguments by some environmentalists that have criticized the Chavez government because it drills and exports oil, but you can't simply just tell Venezuela to stop producing oil. We saw the effect of that in 2002 - 2003 when there was a bosses lockout of the oil industry: they shut down the oil industry and caused $20 billion worth of damage to the economy, unemployment spiked to 20 percent, people went hungry... So, it's a very difficult kind of dependency to break, but I think the only way for Venezuela to break it's dependency on oil is to actually break with the logic of Capitalism that's imposed from the outside, and it's only through this process of taking control over their own resources that Venezuelans themselves can decide how their going to develop their country...

AM: As central a figure as Chavez has been and continues to be for the revolution, he obviously cannot rule forever. What might a post-Chavez Venezuela look like and do you foresee this political void perhaps posing a real risk of jeopardizing some of the gains made under his time in power?

FF: Firstly, the Constitutional Amendment that was approved in 2009 allows all elected officials to re-stand for elections as many time as they like. So, according to the constitution, Chavez can continue to stand until he decides not to, or the party decides not to preselect him, or he loses the elections. Now, if today Chavez was to leave, say, by a hypothesis of an assassination – which cannot be ruled out – I think there is high likelihood that the country would descend into a civil war because Chavez is that figure that maintains social unity not just amongst the people but also amongst the armed forces... I have no doubt that it's through the development of the PSUV that those millions of 'Chavezes' and 'little Chavezes' that exist today all over the country will organize themselves politically through this instrument of the masses and ensure that the process will continue...

AM: Finally, what should international solidarity mean in the context of the Venezuelan Revolution?

FF: I think the first thing is that there is a lot to learn from the internationalism of the Venezuelan Revolution itself – that willingness, firstly, to speak out when things have to be said, as Chavez said when the US declared it's war in Afghanistan and made that very bold statement to say, 'You cannot fight terrorism with terrorism;' that very bold statement denouncing Israel's actions in Gaza and in Lebanon, and many other statement that he has made in all sorts of public forums and summits. So, I think we also need to be willing to speak out in this particular context against any attacks that come out against Venezuela. Any time that any government or any media comes out and says a lie about Venezuela we have to be responding and telling the truth to combat it...

I think it also has to be done through concrete demonstrations of solidarity; the Venezuelan government has placed a lot of emphasis on social programs and financial aid, with no strings attached, to some of poorest countries in the world – classic example being what they're doing now in Haiti with the reconstruction effort. Well, I think we should also think about how we can help to build that concrete element of solidarity in whatever country we are. Every time the US talks about building another military base in Latin America, that means one more protest that we have to organize wherever we are... So, I think that solidarity is so important to the Venezuelan Revolution and so important to what we have to do as well in building a social force, not just to defend Venezuela, but as part of building a social force for change here... How we do that here in Canada or in Australia or wherever we are, that's the question we have to try to deal with.

KJ: Another aspect is that people should actually learn from Venezuela and study the process of the Bolivarian Revolution because there are so many lessons that activists and evolutionaries can actually learn from the process – not to export models and so on but to inspire struggles in our own countries against our own governments. That's why I think promoting as much debate and discussion as possible of what is really happening in Venezuela is really important.

For further information on the tour and to contact sponsoring organizations, email vzteachin[at]hotmail.com. Socialist Project has also posted a video of the tour meeting here.

Kiraz Janicke is an independent journalist based in Caracas, Venezuela, where she writes for Venezuelanalysis.com. She is also the editor of the Peru en Movimiento blog, part of the Green Left Weekly Caracas bureau and a member of the Socialist Alliance in Australia.

Federico Fuentes is the editor of the Bolivia Rising blog and, together with Kiraz Janicke, is part of the Green Left Weekly Caracas bureau, where his articles are regularly published. He is also a member of the Socialist Alliance in Australia

Ali Mustafa is a freelance journalist, writer, and media activist. He resides in Toronto.

Seeding Divestment: Carleton's Yafa Jarrar discusses BDS campaign

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 07:06:00 +0000

The Dominion

By Ali Mustafa

The divestment report urging Carleton University to divest from companies implicated in Israel's occupation and grave violations of human rights is a true gem for the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement. The report's research, argumentation, corroboration and writing style are impeccable and deeply impressive. In making the case for divestment from Israel, the report from Students Against Israeli Apartheid (SAIA) combines the best of both worlds: the commitment to truth and justice of the most sincere and far-sighted human rights defenders and the piercing logic of the most able lawyers. SAIA's time-honoured commitment to just peace and international law, distinguished professionalism and creativity are truly inspiring. They build on the wonderful, pioneering divestment victory at Hampshire College last year to take divestment to the next level. This makes a superb model for the mushrooming divestment campaigns around the world.
—The Global BDS Movement

The Dominion: How did the recent divestment campaign by SAIA-Carleton get started?

Yafa Jarrar: In the summer of 2009, SAIA-Carleton members started researching companies that Carleton’s Pension Fund invested in. SAIA was able to obtain a list, with the help of a faculty member who put forward the request. Of about 550 companies that contribute to the Pension Plan, five were found to be complicit in the occupation of Palestine and in violation of Palestinian human rights. These companies are BAE Systems, L-3 Communications, Motorola, Northrop Grumman, and Tesco. After rigorous research for seven months, SAIA found that each of these companies is actively involved in significant violations of international humanitarian law. SAIA-Carleton immediately decided to start a divestment campaign after learning of Carleton’s unethical investments in the illegal military occupation of Palestine.

SAIA-Carleton prepared a detailed document titled, “Carleton University Pension Fund: Complicity in Violations of Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law in the Occupied Palestinian Territories.” The three main demands addressed in this campaign are: that Carleton University Board of Governors, via the Pension Fund Committee, immediately divest of its stock in the five companies; that Carleton University refrain from investing in other companies involved in violations of international law in the future (such as mining companies, weapons manufactures and tobacco companies); and that Carleton work with the entire university community to develop, adopt and implement a broader policy of Socially Responsible Investment (SRI), through a transparent process.

How does Carleton University's involvement with these specific companies constitute complicity in the ongoing occupation of Palestine?

Each of these five companies is actively involved in significant violations of international humanitarian law, including grave breaches of the Fourth Geneva Convention amounting to war crimes. The five companies contribute extensively to these violations in numerous ways, including: manufacturing weapons or weapons components that are used to kill and maim Palestinian civilians; providing surveillance equipment and electronics that serve to support the illegal Israeli settlements in Palestine; economically developing the illegal settlements in the West Bank, thereby entrenching the occupation of Palestinian land; by perpetrating the illegal siege on Gaza; and Israel’s discriminatory practices and policies against the Palestinians, both in the Occupied Palestinian Territories (OPT) and within Israel.

These companies benefit by contributing to the ongoing occupation of Palestinian lands and repression of the Palestinian people. By investing in these firms, not only does Carleton University violate its own ethical principles (as an academic institution), but it also becomes complicit in breaches of international law and violations of human rights. All peoples and organizations, including Carleton University, are bound by the principles of international law. In reference to the Nuremberg Principles, the 2004 Opinion of the International Court of Justice, Articles 49 and 147 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, the UN Security Council Resolutions 446, 452, 465, and 471, Article 8 of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, the Goldstone Report, and Canadian Domestic Law, it is incumbent upon Carleton University to end its investment in such companies, and any other company that supports the illegal occupation of Palestinian land.

How does SAIA-Carleton's divestment campaign contribute to the BDS movement, both in the global and Canadian context?

If our divestment campaign succeeds, there will be a major snowball effect that will motivate more Canadian and international campuses to start researching and hopefully adopting similar divestment campaigns. We know there are a few American and Canadian campuses that have already begun their research.

How do you see this divestment campaign as similar to earlier anti-apartheid divestment campaigns targeting Apartheid South Africa?

It is very similar. Divestment campaigns targeting Apartheid South Africa back in the 1980s based their activism upon anti-racist and anti-oppressive principles, precisely what SAIA-Carleton’s mandate calls for. SAIA-Carleton’s current divestment campaign is continuously referring to the successes of Carleton’s Anti-Apartheid Action Group. In March 1987, Carleton’s Board of Governors fully divested from South Africa after a two-year campaign by the Carleton Anti-Apartheid Action Group. Carleton and other campuses around the world were able to divest from Apartheid South Africa because of student activism, and we should be able to do it today in the face of Apartheid Israel. According to South African activists and figures like Archbishop Desmond Tutu, it took the South Africans 25 years to get the word across [in reference to the global South African BDS movement]. These figures observe that the Global BDS movement against Israeli Apartheid is moving along even quicker and more effectively facing successes and support from labour unions, churches, student unions, academics and human rights organizations.

What advice do you have for other campuses about launching divestment campaigns?

I call upon all students and activists to start launching similar divestment campaigns if they find their universities complicit in apartheid Israel. My advice to them is to use our research document, as well as that of Hampshire College, as reference documents, and to gain as much popular support as possible after they have completed the research. One thing SAIA-Carleton has learned from Hampshire’s experience is that for this divestment campaign to be successful we have to work on educating and gaining the support of the Carleton community. In the end, it will be the students, faculty, and staff who will have to pressure the university, not just the group who launches the campaign.

How does this divestment campaign fit into a broader socially responsible investment policy at Carleton University?

Currently, Carleton’s Pension Fund does not have a Socially or Ethically Responsible Investment policy in place, and has no mandate except increasing income. The fund’s portfolio includes many weapons manufacturers, oil and gas companies and casinos, which exploit Palestinian workers, brutally enforce the military occupation of Palestinian land, and are suspects in the commission of possible war crimes in Gaza. This leaves the university open to public censure for colluding in ethical and human rights violations. To adopt an SRI policy would put Carleton and its employees on the moral high ground, making it attractive to investors, students, and faculty. Other universities and educational pension funds have adopted SRI policies, including Yale, Queens, McGill, UBC, and Hampshire College.

Where is the campaign now and what can we expect to see next from SAIA-Carleton?

SAIA-Carleton is working on making the research document public. We are conducting educational workshops and presentations to the Carleton community (student unions, clubs and groups, faculty, and classroom presentations) to gain the support of the community on this campaign. So far, students, faculty and staff who learned about Carleton’s unethical investment in weapon companies and companies that violate international law and the rights of the Palestinians, have been appalled, shocked, and ready to support us. We are expecting a positive response from everyone in the Carleton community because there is no justification for support of weapon and war investments. Weapon companies that manufacture Hellfire missiles and Apache Helicopters that kill Palestinian children and students should have no place at our university. After we gain public support, SAIA-Carleton, along with the larger community, will take the campaign to the Board of Governors and the Pension Fund to demand official and immediate divestment.

A complete schedule of Israeli Apartheid Week with speaker biographies is available on the website.

Yafa Jarrar is a Palestinian activist who was born in Jerusalem. She moved to Canada in 2003 to attend Lester B. Pearson College of the Pacific. She is currently completing her MA in Political Science at Carleton University and a member of SAIA-Carleton.

Ali Mustafa is a freelance journalist, writer, and media activist. He resides in Toronto.

The ROM Dead Sea Scrolls Exhibit: Re/Mapping Identity, Culture, & Colonial Discourse

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 23:23:00 +0000

The Bullet

photo credit: Chelsey Lichtman

By Ali Mustafa

“He who controls the present, controls the past. He who controls the past, controls the future.”
-George Orwell

Background summary

Even before the highly anticipated six-month, $3 million collaboration between the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM) and the Israeli Antiquities Authority (IAA) showcasing the Dead Sea Scrolls was officially launched in late June, the exhibit was already the subject of growing controversy. 'Dead Sea Scrolls: Words that Changed the World', as the exhibit is entitled, first attracted international attention in April when Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper and executives at the ROM were each sent letters of protest from senior officials of the Palestinian Authority (PA) – signed by Prime Minister Salam Fayyad and Minister of Tourism and Antiquities Khouloud Diabes, respectively – declaring that the scrolls were in fact illegally seized by Israel following its occupation and subsequent annexation of the West Bank in 1967. The PA not only called for the repatriation of the scrolls but further argued that they merely represent one example of possibly millions of other artifacts that have been systematically looted by Israel from occupied Palestinian territory over several decades, a message that has since been echoed by a chorus of supportive community groups who continue to organize weekly pickets outside of the ROM in protest.

The majority of the Dead Sea Scrolls were excavated in eleven caves near the site of Qumran, 1 km along the northwest shore of the Dead Sea, by the Palestine Archaeological Museum (also referred to as the Rockefeller Museum) in a joint expedition with the Department of Antiquities of Jordan and the Ecole Biblique Française between 1947-1956. Originally found quite by chance by an Arab Bedouin named Mohammed Ahmed el-Hamed in 1947, the scrolls are by now widely regarded as one of the greatest archaeological discoveries of the twentieth century. Consisting of approximately 900 documents in various states of completeness, the scrolls are said to represent the oldest known version of the Old Testament Bible (approximately 150BC-70CE) and are considered sacred to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam alike; they are written largely in Hebrew, but many can be found in Aramaic and Greek script as well.

The scrolls were displayed at the Palestine Archaeological Museum in east Jerusalem until 1967, whereupon after the Six-Day War they were seized and relocated to the Shrine of the Book at the Israel Museum in western Jerusalem. Several additional excavations have since occurred in the West Bank and east Jerusalem whose artifacts continue to be illegally appropriated by Israel, under the auspices of the IAA, from what is internationally recognized as occupied Palestinian territory. Israel unilaterally declared Jerusalem its “...complete and united capital” following the Jerusalem Law of 1980; however, the decision was immediately deemed null and void under UN Security Resolution 479 and later reinforced by successive UN Resolutions, 242 and 338, that together call on Israel to withdraw completely from all territories occupied in 1967.

Does international law matter?

While the debate among any given circle of academics as to the biblical and archaeological significance of the Dead Sea Scrolls rages on, how exactly the artifacts have come to be in the possession of the IAA or put on display at the ROM in the first place seems to be, thus far, a question of lesser concern. According to the PA and several authoritative legal opinions, the exhibit stands in clear and demonstrable violation of at least four binding international treaties of international law concerning cultural artifacts that apply, in turn, to Canada, Israel, and the ROM itself.

The ROM, for its own part, is a member of the Canadian Museums Association (CMA) whose Ethics Guidelines states that “museums must guard against any direct or indirect participation in the illicit traffic in cultural and natural objects [...] that are: stolen; illegally imported or exported from another state, including those that are occupied or war-stricken...” Assuming that such agreements mean anything at all, the ROM has clearly fallen short of the ethical standards to which it is a party.

As for Canada, whose role is one of host nation to the exhibit, the legal obligations stipulated seem even more convincing. Canada is a signatory to the First and Second Protocol of the UNESCO 'Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict' (1954), in addition to the 'Convention on the Means of Prohibiting and Preventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property' (1970). The First Protocol of the 1954 Convention clearly requires Canada to “...take into custody cultural property imported into its territory either directly or indirectly from any occupied territory.” Article 3 of the same Protocol further elaborates that upon seizing the artifacts, Canada must “...return, at the close of hostilities, to the competent authorities of the territory previously occupied, cultural property which is in its territory.” As per the UNESCO conventions outlined above, Canada is accountable to at a minimum either deny the importation of artifacts of dubious ownership such as the Dead Sea Scrolls, or seize them at the border and assume custody of them until a negotiated end of hostilities between the Israelis and Palestinians can be secured.

Israel too is a signatory to the First Protocol of the 1954 Convention, Article 1 of which explicitly outlines a commitment to “...prevent the exportation, from a territory occupied by it during an armed conflict, of cultural property.” Concerning the question of current archaeological activity in Jerusalem specifically, UN Security Council Resolution 252 (1968) states that “...all legislative and administrative measures and actions taken by Israel, including expropriation of land and properties thereon, which tend to change the legal status of Jerusalem are invalid and cannot change that status.” Israel not only continues to illegally excavate in occupied Palestinian territory but has since its inception consistently shown itself dismissive of international law altogether, using archeology (and discoveries such as the Dead Sea Scrolls) as a necessary means to reinforce the given Zionist national narrative and, by extension, offer legitimacy to its corresponding colonial project upon which the state was founded. As the only meaningful channel of recourse still available to Palestinians – despite its obvious and innumerable shortcomings – international law continues to be useful at the very least in communicating a coherent and universal standard of justice that both challenges impunity and safeguards various affirmed political, economic, and cultural rights.

Israeli archeology and the bible

Supposedly a science whose credibility fundamentally relies upon its independence from political, religious, or ideological bias, Israeli archeology under the IAA is inherently imbued with a national ethos, or sense of mission, that is in fact inseparable from the wider Israel/Palestinian conflict. The archeology of the region has been studied thus far under a rationale of given assumptions so deeply rooted in biblical mythology as to only serve towards the construction of a past that is automatically exclusionary and restrictive in scope. As a result, artifacts like the scrolls have come to occupy such a central space within Zionist colonial discourse as to be, as former Haaretz journalist Amos Elon said, “Almost titles of real estate, like deeds of possession to a contested country.”

Israeli archeology has since the discovery of the scrolls become little more than a self-fulfilling prophecy, allowing the 'history' of the bible to interpret the artifacts of successive ancient eras rather than the other way around. Because archeology also happens to be one of the only areas of study that necessarily destroys its own evidence as a result of the excavation process itself, prior layers of soil and bedrock spanning several centuries are completely destroyed in order to uncover deeper 'Jewish' ones. As a result, Israel is able to use archeology to at once naturalize its own Zionist national narrative and erase any trace of historical continuity between Palestinians and the land in the process. The entire history of Palestine and its peoples up until 1948, in fact, has been essentially reduced to no relevance whatsoever, except insofar as it serves as the backdrop to the return of Jews to the promised biblical 'Land of Israel'. As historian Keith Whitelam writes in his book, The Invention of Ancient Israel: The Silencing of Palestinian History, “[the modern state of Israel has] cast its shadow of influence backwards to claim previous periods as its 'prehistory'.”

Yet in order to justify any colonial conquest, a prior historical claim to the land in relation to its existing inhabitants alone is not enough; the new regime must be portrayed as an agent of civility and cultural sophistication set against barbarity and backwardness, all along underpinned by a semblance of inferred racial superiority and entitlement. During the era of European colonialism for example, Britain, France, and most notably Nazi Germany all engaged in archaeological projects in their respective colonies to prove, through found artifacts, the inherent superiority of the white/Aryan race. The Nazis sought to retrace the glory of the Roman Empire back to Germany as evidence of Aryan racial supremacy, espousing a return to the glorious past where old virtues prevailed over the savagery of ‘'lesser' races (in particular, Jews). The primary purpose of archeology under European colonialism – just as it remains in Israel today – was twofold: first, to encourage a sense of national pride and prestige linked to the image of an illustrious past; and secondly, to legitimize colonial rule and expansionism as a 'natural', even God-given, right.

Archeology of dispossession

As a colonial power in its own right, Israel naturally refuses to apply to itself the same standards that under international law are applied to others. Using the account of the bible as both a historical guide and moral barometer inevitably produces the effect of allowing contemporary crimes (such as Palestinian 'Nakba', for example) to seem relatively mild in comparison and essentially reintroduces into popular discourse what Omar Barghouti and other analysts oftentimes refer to as the 'law of the jungle' wherein colonial conquest, ethnocentrism, and dispossession are treated as the norm. Whitelam again writes:

Colonialism is not dead while the assumptions of superiority and the right of force which inspired it are inscribed in the rhetoric [...] which has been taken up and reinforced in Israeli scholarship after 1948.

Israeli archeology not only serves as a means of legitimizing colonial rule but is in fact a literal expression of it that has proven to be entirely consistent with official state policy overall. Whereas the illegal bulldozing of homes, expulsion of their inhabitants, and expansion of Jewish settlements in occupied Palestinian territory have by now all become familiar fixtures of official state policy, Israeli archeology continues to be the principal source of securing and annexing additional land – or what anthropology professor Nadia Abu-El Haj alternatively calls producing 'facts on the ground'. Such efforts to undermine any competing historical claims to the land – after the fact, by erecting synagogues over mosques, museums over grave sites, or parking lots over ethnically cleansed villages – constitute, in sum, the systematic erasure of Palestinians from the past in order to deny them a sense of purpose and place in the future.

Jerusalem for example has over time come to be portrayed as a Jewish-dominated city by virtue of an ongoing campaign to expel many Palestinian inhabitants and encourage Jewish settlement, thus coinciding with its de facto status as the 'eternal capital' of Israel. The Palestinian neighborhood of Silwan in east Jerusalem remains a particularly striking case study: apparently referred to in the bible as King David's original capital some 3000 years ago, Silwan was transformed into an archaeological site by the IAA in the early 1990's and in the span of a few years alone became scattered by dozens of Jewish settlements and even a 'City of David' national theme park. The act of searching for an ancient biblical past while completely ignoring the subsequent 3000 years of history is an open violation of the ethical guidelines stipulated by the World Archeological Congress (WAC), which aims to protect indigenous cultural heritage “including sites, places, objects, artifacts, and human remains.” Although originally under the authority of a right-wing settler organization named 'Elad', no archaeological projects in Silwan (or elsewhere for that matter) occur without the permission of the IAA. As professor Yigal Bronner confirms, “The IAA itself issues the required digging permits in an internal process of dubious legality, thus allowing Elad to turn archeology into its most effective instrument of dispossession.”

Rebranding apartheid

Far from simply a historical analogy that has gained currency amongst Palestinians and international solidarity groups in recent years, the charge of Israel as an apartheid state is one that is well supported by virtually every objective criteria defined under international law. The proverbial crack in the facade of Israel as a 'normal' state like any other has certainly been no secret but is only now beginning to be seriously addressed. As much a sign of growing desperation over a failing public image abroad as a measure of sheer resilience, the Israeli foreign ministry launched an ambitious multi-million dollar rebranding campaign called 'Brand Israel' in the city of Toronto in 2008. Toronto was carefully chosen as a North American test market for the campaign, presumably in large part as a response to the growing success of the city's Palestine solidarity movement as well as its renowned cultural diversity. Consisting of public advertisement blitzes, the current ROM exhibit, and a planned special showcase on Tel Aviv at the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, the campaign is little more than an open ploy to divert attention away from what is at its core a criminal colonial enterprise – and it is seeking to use 'culture' as the primary means to do it.

Several community groups have organized weekly pickets outside of the ROM in order to raise public awareness about the origins of the scrolls and demand that they be returned in accordance with international law, including the Coalition Against Israeli Apartheid (CAIA), Women in Solidarity with Palestine (WSP), and Palestine House. Israel advocacy organizations have in response vehemently refuted such claims, dismissing them as yet another attempt to reject incontrovertible historical proof of Israel's biblical roots and its legitimacy as a 'Jewish state'. According to these organizations, the only possible motive behind the ROM pickets is to ensure that the scrolls remain hidden from the public forever; however, in reality the scrolls were openly displayed at the Palestine Archaeological Museum for all to see from 1947-67, and it was not until 1991 (nearly 25 years after they were seized) that they were even allowed to be shown to the public again. Only pending a total failure of basic judgment can such a classic canard of the Israeli PR machine be taken seriously.

When a popular downtown Toronto bistro used its website to warn patrons against attending the illegal exhibit, ultra-Zionist lobby groups like the Jewish Defense League immediately urged supporters to respond in kind by buying out all tickets possibly available. Countering negative publicity of the exhibit by simply buying it out may improve sales revenues at the ROM but will do nothing to address why exactly it happens to be the subject of weekly pickets in the first place – which may actually be the point; the goal is not so much to win the debate over the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians but to find ways to avoid it altogether. Palestinians can no better defeat Israel militarily than Israel can be convincingly portrayed as a 'normal' state without first disassociating itself fully from the image of a colonial power that is perpetually at war. Israel finally recognizes that there is no such thing as a benign or benevolent occupation; it can win every single war but still lose the more important battle of public opinion.

The 'insidiousness' of culture

According to a recent article on the ROM pickets by University of Toronto professor Ed Morgan, “it is no exaggeration to say that Palestinians are conducting not just a political campaign, but a 'cultural battle' against Israel as a Jewish state [and] part of an insidious cultural campaign.” Despite the arrogant invective in which he writes, his assessment is essentially correct. The ROM pickets are less an effort by Palestinians to declare a monopoly over the diverse cultural heritage of the region as they are the inevitable result of an enduring memory of dispossession and exile that – still today – so fully articulates the Palestinian narrative and inextricably links ancient artifacts like the Dead Sea Scrolls to the contemporary struggle over identity and land. While Israel digs ever deeper in occupied Palestinian territory to confirm its supposed biblical roots, Palestinians have simply preferred to continue to exist despite all odds. Palestinians only have survival itself as proof of the crimes committed against them in recent memory and still ongoing daily, choosing to maintain traditional dress, religious faith (both Christian and Islamic), and the historical memory of the 'Nakba' as their most meaningful and durable expressions of resistance.

The late Palestinian academic Edward Said put it the following way: “In the case of a political identity that's being threatened, culture is a way of fighting against extinction and obliteration [...and] a form of memory against effacement.” Just as former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir notoriously declared that “there is no such thing as Palestinians,” today they may exist, but the official line is still that their “...national aspirations lie elsewhere.” The battle being waged over the scrolls, like all the artifacts of the region, is not so much about any particular ethnic, religious, or even cultural based claim, per se, but more importantly a means of opposing Zionist colonial discourse in order to uphold a claim over whatever land has yet to be transformed into permanent and irreversible 'facts on the ground'.

'Art' of deception

The battle over the scrolls is hardly the first time the ROM has been at the center of controversy over the alleged misrepresentation of cultural heritage. Officially promoted as an opportunity to stimulate interfaith dialogue under the familiar banner of “that which unites is greater than that which divides,” the exhibit has little to do, in fact, with 'unity'. The exhibit's website for example fails to make any mention whatsoever of anything about the scrolls or their origins that does not conveniently coincide with the given Zionist national narrative, consciously omitting irrelevant facts such as 'Palestine' as the commonly used name of the region during the era that they were written, the role of the original excavation team in finding them, and where they were housed until 1967. Similarly, the ROM's preference to use in its promotional literature of the exhibit such biblical terms as the 'Land of Israel' in place of Jerusalem, or the 'Judean dessert' rather than the West Bank, is not only imbued with nationalistic and religious overtones that would be completely foreign to the indigenous population of the region but almost reflexively echoes Zionist colonial discourse.

Promoting the exhibit under a thinly veiled guise of 'unity' as a strictly biblical or academic issue, entirely devoid of any connection to the current political realities on the ground, is already to side with the narrative of the prevailing dominant power. By framing the scrolls under the common language of the bible, the exhibit also contributes to obscuring the ongoing conflict between Israelis and Palestinians as one that is in effect timeless – something that is 'out there', thus intractable and beyond resolution. As Whitelam writes:

It is simply assumed that biblical studies has no part in contemporary struggles for identity and land, when in fact the very silencing, the fact that the 'problem' of Palestine and the existence of a Palestinian past remains unspoken in the discourse of biblical studies, has only served to legitimate Israel's claims to the past and the exclusion of any alternative competing Palestinian claims.

Archeological apartheid

Israeli archeology is understood and explicitly categorized by the IAA as either Jewish/Israeli or Arab/Muslim in a process whereby ancient artifacts that supposedly belong to the biblical era are actively sought after, while encouraging Palestinians to do the same concerning later Islamic periods. Following the Oslo peace process, Israel claimed it was prepared to assign jurisdiction of all 'Arab' and 'Muslim' archeological sites in the West Bank over to the PA; however, the offer was flatly refused, and the PA instead demanded control over all sites, as well as an immediate return of artifacts seized since 1967. The logic is simple: aside from conflating all Palestinian history as Islamic (openly disregarding Christian and secular influences), to apply such reductive and simplistic binary terms to artifacts that in reality have encompassed the same geopolitical space over centuries is to fundamentally overlook the region's shared past and overlapping cultural heritage.

Israel can no more partition the land than it can the past itself, affirming its supposed biblical roots only by precluding the historical reality of 'Palestine' or 'Palestinians' in the process. Even were Qumran, for example, to be recognized as part of a future Palestinian state under the logic of a two state solution it would still, according to Israeli political scientist Meron Benvenisti, “transform Palestinians into aliens in their own homeland.” Yet nothing thus far has limited Israel from excavating and looting artifacts almost at will in the West Bank, or the ROM for that matter from highlighting the region in its promotional literature as the 'Judean Dessert'. Such a scenario also says nothing of course about Palestinian cultural heritage that exists inside Israel proper (destroyed villages, tombs, grave sites, etc.), which would require a prior acknowledgment of the 'Nakba' and give credence to a narrative that openly defies all simple racial, cultural, and geopolitical categories of 'us' and 'them'. When the Israeli Knesset (i.e. parliament) passed a bill just a few weeks ago banning all state funding of activities that commemorate the 'Nakba', the irreconcilable contradiction of Israel as both a 'Jewish' and 'democratic' state – and its underlying apartheid reality – could not have been made more obvious.

Many efforts have been made over time to 'solve' the problem of archeology and artifacts in the region, one such example being the recent 'Israeli-Palestinian Cultural Heritage Agreement'. The preamble to the document states that “Israel and Palestine constitute a unified archaeological landscape divided by political borders,” but that in the exceptional case of Jerusalem, the two parties should establish a special, shared 'heritage zone'. The document goes on to argue that artifacts seized since 1967 should be repatriated to the 'state' where they were originally excavated, at once treating them as distinguishable by default of where they were found, as well as ignoring the deep-rooted history of the region and its peoples – both Jewish and Palestinian. An addendum to the document specifically concerning the Dead Sea Scrolls also recommends that both parties consider putting them on loan to Israel for a period of 999 years. Aside from being logically inconsistent to the point of bordering on absurdity, the document already begins from the false premise of a just or realistic two state solution, and thus falls victim to the fatal flaws that necessarily come with it.

Conclusion

In order to better understand the problem of archeology and artifacts in the region (not to mention the Israel/Palestinian conflict itself), Israel will need to begin to 'see' Palestinians and their legitimate historical claims to the land beyond the skewed and narrow lens of 'Arabs', 'Muslims', or 'terrorists' that only perpetuate mutual hostility and cynicism. Acknowledging the diverse cultural heritage of the region need not amount to a 'zero-sum game' whereby recognizing the identity of Palestine and Palestinians represents a threat to the identity of Israelis and Jews – it is, however, a threat to the apartheid status quo. The germ of a just peace between Israelis and Palestinians today, may just be found in how we understand, and begin to reclaim, the past. As Palestinian professor Nazmi Jubeh asks:

Can you tell me what the difference is between the archaeological finds from the Bronze Age in the western part of the city [Jerusalem] and the finds from the same period in the eastern part? […] The history of this land is the sum of all histories of the people who lived in it. The Roman period does not belong to the Romans. You will not want the synagogue at Na'aran to be dismantled, just as I will not want to dismantle the Jazar mosque in Acre. You cannot deprive me of the Jewish past of this land. It belongs to everyone.

Nobody is calling for a boycott of the ROM Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit; the damage was already done when they were allowed to illegally enter Canada in the first place. What Palestinians are demanding seems quite simple: a place in the past so that they may not be deprived of justice today and existence in the future. The exhibit is scheduled to run for six months, until January 3, 2010; how much we choose to do in between now and then to see to it that international law is upheld and justice is done will be up to us. In the meantime, as one of the picketers affirms, “The pickets will continue and the campaign will escalate.”

The MST & the Political Economy of Agrarian Reform in Brazil: 25 Years of Resistance to Neoliberal Rule

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 04:22:00 +0000

photo credit: Ali Mustafa

The following essay has been updated with a new section on the 'Lula' government and is now published, with full references, in the latest issue of Relay

This essay is dedicated to all my friends and comrades of the Landless Rural Workers Movement (MST) in Brazil. A special dedication with love and solidarity to: Osvaldo, Andreia, Aline, Ammine, Michel, Romolo, and Tim Balada of the Assentamento, Professor Luiz D. Macedo. Until we meet again soon. A luta continua!

By Ali Mustafa

Introduction

Brazil is a country of glaring polarization, at once among the wealthiest (in terms of GDP) and most unequal (by any equivalent measure) in the world. Formally the last country to abolish slavery in 1888, Brazil officially became a republic one year later in 1889 following a long and brutal history of Portuguese colonial rule dating back to the early 1500s whose deep rooted legacy of corruption, clientelism, and impunity still endures to this day. The intense concentration of wealth and land distribution by the ancien regime amidst the extreme poverty and social exclusion of the urban and rural poor in Brazil today cannot be understood in isolation, but instead reflect a historical continuum that has seen colonial rule finally overcome only to inherit all of its essential qualities.

Whereas several Latin American countries (including Mexico, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, Nicaragua, etc.) have undergone sweeping land reform as a necessary precursor to reducing structural inequality and alleviating widespread social unrest, Brazil by contrast has yet to address in any substantive sense land ownership laws that have ruled the country uninterrupted since the colonial era. Second only to post-Apartheid South Africa, Brazil currently has the highest concentration of land ownership anywhere in the world with over ¾ of all arable land in the country under the control of just 3% of the population –1.2 billion acres of which (40-60% in total) is lying permanently idle and unused. It is within this particular historical context that the emergence of the Landless Rural Workers Movement (Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra – MST) and its ongoing struggle for agrarian reform in Brazil must be understood.

Land ownership patterns in Brazil have shown extremely little variation over time, suggesting deep rooted collusion between the state and the traditional land owning elite to preserve the prevailing status quo. From the colonial era wherein land (under the latifundio system) was treated as a symbol of status and a measure of proximity to power; to the military dictatorship of the 1960s – 80s under which rural production underwent a process of intense neoliberal restructuring; and finally under a return to civilian rule in the mid 1980s whose decided focus continues to be political stability and economic growth, no government (past or present) has gone so far as to fundamentally challenge existing land ownership laws in Brazil, much less seriously address the wider question of agrarian reform.

Yet the contemporary state has taken more measures in the interests of agrarian reform than any efforts before it, mediating with the MST the resettlement of millions of urban and rural landless, overseeing disputed land title claims with the movement, and guaranteeing a variety of essential services within its numerous won settlements. If we are to accept that agrarian reform in Brazil of the kind that the MST actively seeks is contrary to the interests of the traditional land owning elite and global dominant capital, with which the state has historically been aligned, the resulting question necessarily follows: how can the state both endorse a limited agrarian reform, yet under the current neoliberal regime remain ideologically opposed to it?

Advancement of a limited agrarian reform in Brazil is not only entirely consistent with the overall logic of capital but is in fact a central tenet of the wider neoliberal project occurring in the country today, allowing the vast, unexploited expanse of the countryside to do as much to resolve the existing challenge of mass urban and rural unemployment as to fundamentally undercut the revolutionary potential of the MST as a movement. The dynamic relationship between the state and the MST is thus not one of genuine horizontal cooperation, nor of co-optation from above, but instead the product of historical pressure and mobilization from below in which the state has favored a limited agrarian reform under its auspices over a genuine agrarian reform wherein the threat of broader social change beyond of its control would be the likely, if not inevitable, result.

Organization & vision

The formation of the MST can be understood as the cumulative expression of at least three fundamental processes: first, a conservative capitalist modernization program launched in the 1960s specifically targeted towards the agricultural sector that only intensified the conflict over land; secondly, an ideological convergence between Latin American liberation theology under the Catholic Church, ideas inspired from the Marxist left, and the MST's own unique synthesis of radical pedagogy and praxis, commonly referred to in the movement as 'mistica'; and lastly, the vital experience of collective organization gained throughout the 1960s-70s under the military dictatorship, when land occupations (albeit small scale and largely spontaneous at the time) were first explored as an effective means of resistance.

At the very core of the MST as a movement lies a general emancipatory project that is integrally linked but not limited in scope to the question of agrarian reform. In thought in as much as action, the pursuit of agrarian reform and wider social change in Brazil are not mutually exclusive aims but, in fact, together constitute the twin pillars that guide the MST - one cannot be accomplished without the mutual fulfillment of the other; that is to say, in order to achieve agrarian reform, a prior transformation of existing social relations is required, which in turn cannot hope to succeed under the same mode of production from which the inherent exploitation therein originates. As the mandate of the MST, taken here from its own website, suggests:

...this proposal for agrarian reform is part of a desire of the Brazilian working class for a new society: egalitarian and socialist. In this sense, the measures proposed as necessary form part of broad process of changes in society, and fundamentally, of a change from the present-day capitalist structure of the organization of production.

Consisting of coordinating bodies at the regional, state, and national levels within an overall cooperative framework, the MST represents a highly complex model of grassroots democracy. Autonomous from the state or any given political party affiliations, MST settlements assume a dual political and economic character that must coexist in order to produce a community of people who are, according to one MST leader, “...responsible, politically aware, culturally developed, and in solidarity and brotherhood with each other.” Each MST settlement (within given limits that reflect the guiding principles of the movement at large) enjoys a degree of relative autonomy that can result in a diverse range of rules, customs, and even patterns of land use between them. Although in principle land use between individual MST settlements may vary from cooperative to private or some combination both, in practice virtually every aspect of daily life – be it in the form of practical knowledge or manual labour – is already by default communal.

Practical knowledge and manual labour are in themselves not only indivisible but together constitute a mutually reinforcing cycle of pedagogy and praxis that perpetually reproduces itself within the movement. Even within MST settlements that are arranged under private plots for example, all major projects that require manual labour beyond the given capacity of an individual or their family, such as the construction of a house, are coordinated between units of 5-15 families (called a nucleo de base); each individual within a unit brings with them to the group their own unique knowledge and set of skills to the task ahead, the cumulative effect of which is practical knowledge that was once specific to its owner is now socialized, and manual labour that was once exploitative is now a common collective enterprise imbued with new transformative possibility.

The current system of organization within the MST, as well as the corresponding objective to construct a 'new society' therein, could hardly be possible without the unique combination of pedagogy and praxis that have come to form the ideological basis underpinning the movement. Since the inception of the MST, education has always been understood as a critical tool of empowerment – not only to educate the youth, or politicize its membership in general, but also to ensure that together they will have the collective means to become active agents towards their own self-determination. A sense of collective identity and common cause cultivated through the representation of words, art, music, poetry, symbolism, and the general social realities under which the movement must operate, encompasses what is known as the 'mistica'. Mistica forms part of the movement, but is not institutionalized; it is spiritual, but not religious or denominational in that there are no formal rules that are to be followed; rather it refers to a general sentiment, shared and experienced principally through a historical connection to the land that is at once profound and irreducible to any single explanation. A member of the MST summarizes the significance of mistica as follows:

Mistica is also used to refer to the more abstract, emotional element, strengthened in collectivity, which can be described as the feeling of empowerment, love, and solidarity that serves as a mobilizing force by inspiring self sacrifice, humility, and courage.

Structural origins

The MST has in the span of 25 years of organized struggle come to represent not only the single largest social movement in Latin America but also one of the leading sites of resistance to neoliberal rule globally, expressing the popular will of millions of disenfranchised urban and rural poor alike. Founded during the final year of the military dictatorship in 1984 following a gathering of rural peasants, sharecroppers, and small-scale family farmers from across 16 Brazilian states, the MST today comprises an estimated membership of 2 million people and is currently organized in 23 of the country's 26 states. Under the popular banner of 'occupy, resist, produce!', the MST assumes non-violent direct action through occupations of idle or otherwise unproductive land in order to apply pressure on the state to redistribute the land in favor of those who work it.

The process of staging land occupations typically consists of two critical stages: under the first and by far most precarious stage (called an encampamento/encampment), members of the MST usually assess the potential site as to its level of productive use several months in advance, whereupon if the land is deemed either idle or extremely underexploited they then commence to occupy it and establish temporary black plastic tents therein; during the following stage (called an assentamento/settlement), the National Institute for Colonization and Agrarian Reform (Instituto Nacional de Colonização e Reforma Agrária – INCRA) undertakes a formal evaluation of the the occupied land while the MST ensues to petition the government to award the land title to the movement, which even when successful is a process that can take anywhere between 2-10 years of bureaucratic wrangling with the state.

Beyond the historical and material impetus underpinning the strategy of large scale land occupations as a means to redress a deep-rooted tradition of unequal land distribution, no such course of action would be in any way sustainable today were it not for the constitutional basis under which, meeting certain conditions, it is deemed legitimate under Brazilian law. The latest version of the Brazilian constitution (1988) states that all arable land in the country is required to serve its 'wider social function', authorizing the government (as per Article 184) to expropriate for the purposes of agrarian reform any such property that does not fulfill this central criteria. Article 86 of the Brazilian constitution for example, stipulates that the 'wider social function' of rural land encompasses, among various provisions: rational and adequate use, environmental preservation, and compliance with governing labor relations standards.

Although basic criteria regulating land expropriation is guaranteed under the current Brazilian constitution, whether or not rural land is meeting its 'wider social function' is a matter entirely subject to government interpretation, whereby a long and protracted legal process – if not outright bureaucratic obstruction in the interests of the traditional land owning elite – usually follows. Illegal land acquisitions through fraudulent or forged titles (called grilagem) carried out by large landowners is another common practice that continues to forestall a process of meaningful land redistribution in Brazil. Failing all other means of recourse available to them – including negotiation, petition, and appeals to constitutional law – the MST sees itself with little choice but to advance the cause of agrarian reform where the state itself has failed to do so. MST land occupations have, in this way, now resettled approximately 350,000 families on over 48,000,000 hectares of land.

Land as power: from dictatorship to democratic rule

Land in Brazil has traditionally been much more than a mere factor of production, serving as a manifestation of both wealth and political power in the country. Whereas under the US Homestead Act (1862) land was granted to anyone who settled on it, Brazil's Land Law (Lei da Terra – 1850), in contrast, prohibited the acquisition of land by any means outside of purchase; inasmuch in law as in practice, little has changed since. Under a widely decentralized and regionally-based federal state apparatus, the traditional land owning elite still assumes a degree of influence over land ownership policy in Brazil that is altogether unrivaled. Rather than attempt to reverse the historical pattern of land concentration in Brazil, the state has instead committed itself to ensure the successful incorporation of the countryside into an overall modernization program whereby agricultural, industrial, and financial sources of capital accumulation can effectively coexist while leaving the wider question of agrarian reform off the political agenda.

During the era of the military dictatorship in Brazil – and only deepened with renewed conviction under each successive government thereafter – rural production underwent a process of intense neoliberal restructuring that, still today, continues to inform state policy towards the question of agrarian reform. Fulfilling only a minimal degree of land redistribution such that complete social unrest would not erupt in the countryside, the military dictatorship was much more attentive to matters relating to order and security than to the historical grievances of the rural and urban poor. While the struggle for land was being portrayed by the military dictatorship as archaic and increasingly irrelevant under modern capitalism, land owners saw improved tax breaks, subsidized credit, and price supports that both intensified land concentration and destroyed traditional family farming in the process. Adopting economic modernization as a substitute for wider land redistribution, the military dictatorship would prove a vital ally to the interests of the traditional land owning elite in Brazil and global dominant capital alike.

President Fernando Henrique Cardoso (1995-98; 1999-02), following the transition to civilian rule, would inherit a neoliberal development model that was producing an extreme gap between wealth and poverty in the countryside such that even the Brazilian right-wing at this point conceded the need for at least a limited agrarian reform. The Cardoso administration thus oversaw a scale of land redistribution in Brazil that still remains unsurpassed today, securing for the purposes of agrarian reform over 28 million acres of land and authorizing more settlements than all previous governments between the years of 1970-94 combined. Nevertheless, far from representing a gesture of goodwill, or suggesting a major departure with prior state policy, the Cardoso administration understood above all else that idle and unproductive land to the extent that it exists in Brazil is useless to the interests of economic growth; the agricultural sector was one of the most competitive in the country and could at once “…generate exports, anchor the Real Plan [aimed at financial stabilization], provide cheap food to the cities, and survive any deepening regional trade integration that the government decided to undertake.”

Under an exploding rate of rural unemployment that saw an estimated 25 million people at the time (a figure now probably even higher) go without access to any land, the Cardoso administration not only successfully avoided the creation of a huge reserve army of labor in the countryside through piecemeal land redistribution but, within an overall neoliberal framework, was able to ensure the continued exploitation of resettled families by keeping them externally dependent on crop seeds, agrochemicals, machinery, and various other inputs. Even when land was expropriated and settlements were awarded, the process often consisted of collusion between INCRA officials and land owners to purchase the land at a higher price than its actual market value; a September 1999 study contains evidence of no less than 70 such cases in which the Cardoso administration overpaid for land in excess of $7 billion, enough money to resettle on the same land an additional 300,000 families. Because the cost of the land is typically part of the debt contracted by resettled families, it could in many cases take a lifetime to pay off. Unable to service the debt, ¼ of these families ended up leaving the settlements within 2 years in order to migrate to the city seeking work, only to find themselves inhabitants of massive urban slums (called favelas) shortly thereafter.

Despite its often celebrated accomplishments in the area of land redistribution, in the final analysis the Cardoso administration suggested far more continuity than change. The record scale of land redistribution accomplished during Cardoso’s two terms in office can be attributed as much to historical pressure and mobilization from below as to the knowledge that cooperation with the MST towards a limited agrarian reform would be strategically superior to a potentially revolutionary conflict in the countryside. But with resistance has come success, which in turn has brought repression. As the scale of MST land occupations since the 1970’s has soared, so too has state repression in response. Repression against the MST is driven overwhelmingly by the concern that the intensification of the conflict over land in Brazil might serve as a template to be repoduced elsewhere, posing a legitimate threat to the prevailing logic of neoliberal rule overall.

Repression and resistance

Repression in the form of state-sanctioned massacres of MST members (not to mention those by gun-thugs in the pay of large landowners) has unfortunately been an all too common occurrence throughout the now 25 year history of the movement, stirring outrage within the families of targeted victims, their friends, and Brazilian society at large. But what we have seen in the case of the MST is that repression not only does more to encourage protest than to deter it, but can also win the movement valuable public support and media attention that may sometimes compel the state to be more receptive to its demands. One such example of when repression and opportunity fatefully converged to the advantage of the MST was during the fallout of the now infamous massacre in Eldorado dos Carajás, located in the northern Brazilian state of Pará (April 17, 1996).

Generating both national and international outrage, the massacre was even covered in the traditionally conservative mainstream Brazilian media in terms that were favorable to the MST. Emerging stronger and more defiant than ever, the MST organized a historic march to Brasilia, the country’s federal capital, exactly one year after the massacre occurred. Framed as a ‘symbolic invasion’, the march took in all 2 months to complete – an average of 20 km per day – and received widespread daily media coverage in Brazil; however, the overall objective to open a channel of communication with society and advance the aims of the movement more generally was summarized by one MST member as follows:

With the authorities, it is like the summary of a soccer game; it does not decide the result, just records the number of goals scored. The game was the march; the arrival in Brasilia and society’s reaction was the score. The Landless, the working class, and those fighting against neoliberalism have scored a goal against the FHC [Cardoso] government.

The 'Lula' years: same struggle, new phase

Fully accustomed by now to a hostile neoliberal development model in the countryside, the MST could not help but be somewhat optimistic when former trade union leader Luiz Inácio 'Lula' da Silva of the Worker's Party (Partido dos Trabalhadores – PT) was elected President in 2002. Following three consecutive failed attempts at office since 1989, Lula's election victory split the MST into two separate camps: those who supported putting a temporary halt to all major land occupations in order to give the new government space to operate, confident that genuine change would come in due time; and those who insisted that the struggle for agrarian reform must continue uninterrupted regardless of who is officially in power. But early signs of compromise on several key campaign promises caused Lula's image as a reliable ally to come under serious doubt and essentially settled the internal debate. It was not long before any MST support for Lula and the PT completely fell silent, replaced first by quiet skepticism, then eventually outright disillusionment with a neoliberal agenda that could scarcely be distinguished from that of the previous Cardoso administration.

Due in large part to a multi-party parliamentary system in Brazil in which no single party, small or large, can effectively govern without first securing a power-sharing alliance with its rivals, Lula came to power on already contradictory terms – accountable to the poor and working class that voted him into office, yet intimately linked to a variety of conservative forces whose interests remain imbedded with the country's business and financial sectors. When Lula took office vowing to faithfully continue the previous government's dual policy of political stability and economic growth, the message of assurance to foreign investors that Brazil was, in effect, 'open for business' rang loud and clear. Since capitulating to elite interests so early in his presidency, Lula has not only lost the support of former allies such as the MST but even managed to alienate key members of his own party in the process. Several PT officials have since resigned in order to join or form new parties, including most recently Senator and former Environmental Minister Marina Silva who left her post in order to join the Green Party only a few weeks ago. The PT has over time gone from a popular Left platform in the 1980's, to a brand of democratic-socialism in the 1990's, and finally to the neoliberal orthodoxy of today under Lula.

Despite several key advances made by the Lula administration in recent years that have directly benefited the MST such as higher credit to small family farmers, slightly increasing the minimum wage, and alleviating targeted repression against the movement, the sum of its failures continue to far outweigh the achievements. Under the National Agrarian Reform Plan (Plano Nacional de Reforma Agrária – PNRA), Lula promised to resettle 550,000 families by 2007; however, according to the MST, only 163,000 of them have actually been moved to date – 30% of the total target goal; 500, 000 of those families in all were to be awarded legal land titles as well, out of which only 113,000 – 22% in total – have seen such results. Although the Lula administration refutes such statistics and claims to have in fact reach its stated target goal, the official government records include only those families that have been resettled on existing settlements rather than new or recently occupied camps.

Land concentration in Brazil has, in fact, increased under the Lula administration due in large part to the intensive monoculture of cash-crops such as sugarcane, soybean, maize, and eucalyptus. Brazil is for example the world's top exporter of sugarcane-based ethanol fuel, providing over 70% of the total market supply; however, while national revenues from ethanol fuel have grown exponentially, so too have already existing problems in the Brazilian countryside as a direct result: conflict over land, hunger, unemployment, loss of biodiversity, and a renewed concentration of both land and wealth. Far from the 'green' alternative to harmful fossil fuels that it has been unfittingly branded, the ethanol fuel industry is in reality a total social and ecological disaster that continues to reproduce the same export-oriented logic of rural production that has been in place since the colonial era.

Following the Lula administration's highly controversial decision to lift a ban on the production of genetically modified (GM) crops in 2005, the MST was forced to shift focus somewhat from the traditional land owning elite in Brazil to even more powerful multinational corporations such as Syngenta, Cargill, and Monstanto who together control the lucrative global market of GM seeds. The growing pressure faced by small family farmers to produce higher crop yields on less land than ever before, just in order to stay competitive in the marketplace, has forced many of them to turn increasingly towards GM seeds and agrochemicals that not only encourage debt but pollute the land in the process. In addition, the general trend towards vertical integration by way of mergers and acquisitions has only served to consolidate corporate power over the agricultural sector in Brazil.

Under the fashionable rhetoric of the popular Left, Lula has attempted to win over the support of the urban and rural poor even as he advances a neoliberal agenda whose aim is to ensure that they will continue to suffer. Unfortunately, the upcoming elections in 2010 seem to forecast little change as the two lead candidates so far are Lula's handpicked successor and Conservative São Paulo State Governor Jose Serra. But the MST has always assumed a safe distance from the formal political arena, fully aware that social change does not come from the routine election of leaders, but instead grassroots mass mobilization and direct action to which those in power are merely the backdrop. As one young MST activist affirms, “The difficulties under Lula are great, but our mission is greater.”

Conclusion

The struggle for land in Brazil is the inevitable product of a history of rural production that, under the current configuration of neoliberal capitalism, is increasingly outmoded. Between the respective governments of the military dictatorship, President Cardoso, and current President Luiz Inácio ‘Lula’ da Silva, each of them has pursued a modernization program of the country’s agricultural sector that has put productivity and poverty in the countryside in direct conflict with each other – a necessary contradiction in the interests of ‘ national development’; the possibility that access to land could actually improve productivity has never been seriously explored, instead favoring market-based solutions to historically-rooted social problems. Agrarian reform as state policy has thus been advanced only insofar as it could preempt the threat of a wider social upheaval. The MST itself represents an alternative model of development – one that is at once rooted in the spirit of struggle of the past, the hope and aspirations of millions of urban and rural poor of today, and the ‘new society’ of tomorrow.

Democracy Undone: US Hegemony and Imperial Ambitions in Haiti

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 19:10:00 +0000

Another essay I wrote in 2007. This one is about the historical role of the US in undermining democracy in Haiti. A fully cited version is available upon request.

By Ali Mustafa

The small Caribbean nation of Haiti holds the unique distinction of being site to the only successful slave rebellion in history, resulting in its independence from colonial France and the establishment of the first ever black republic in 1804. A little over 200 years later, in the wake of its bicentennial, the promise and optimism that once marked the momentous occasion of Haiti’s improbable birth have eroded into growing disillusionment and ultimately given way to a new, much less flattering, distinction: the title of poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere, with a per capita gross domestic product of just $218. Plagued by chronic underdevelopment, economic ruin, and social and political unrest almost since its inception, Haiti is not only far and away the poorest nation in the region but also one that registers among the sharpest contrasts between wealth and poverty in the entire world. What was once hailed by Christopher Columbus upon his arrival as ‘paradise on earth’ has now become a paradise lost, a place that few dare to go and many of its inhabitants wish to flee.

But why is Haiti arguably no better off now than it was over 200 years ago and what can be attributed as the source of its undoing? Haiti’s tragic fate can only be understood within the scope of the geopolitical space that it occupies and necessarily situated in its proper historical context in which the US as regional hegemon has played – and continues to play – a particularly defining role. In short, US foreign policy in Haiti today is broadly consistent with that formulated and enforced throughout Latin America and the Caribbean since the Monroe Doctrine designated the Western hemisphere, and all that it encompasses, as an uncontested American 'sphere of influence.' Haiti has always been strategically important to the US for various reasons: it shares the Windward Passage to the Panama Canal with communist Cuba (political); it is located only 700 miles off the coast of Florida (security); and in recent years as much as 50 percent of all imports into the country have been of US origin (economic). But what is at stake in Haiti is not so much US security concerns or even economic interests (although these are certainly important) as it is the threat of a good example – one that the US fears, especially after the 1990 election of Catholic priest to the poor Jean-Bertrand Aristide, could potentially send reverberations throughout the region and indeed the wider Third World and undermine US regional hegemony in the process.

The relationship between US foreign policy and Haiti is a long and involved one. US marines occupied Haiti for almost 20 years (1915 – 1934) and helped create the country’s modern army, now notorious for carrying out repression and brutality against its own population with ruthless efficiency. The US government then went on to shamelessly support former Haitian dictator Francois Duvalier (Papa Doc), as well as his son who would later succeed him after his death in 1971, Jean-Claude Duvalier (Baby Doc), with economic and military aid that would prove instrumental in sustaining them throughout their worst crimes. When Baby Doc was overthrown in a popular uprising in 1986, a new era in Haitian history (as well as US foreign policy in the country) was ushered in that would see both the rise and sudden fall of Aristide who went on to win Haiti’s first ever democratic elections, only to be ousted in an elite-backed military coup a few months later. The US government was not directly involved in the coup; however, it certainly wanted Aristide and his government gone just as much as the Haitian elite and implemented a new strategy to protect its imperial ambitions in Haiti that employed the rhetoric of democracy, while at the same time fundamentally undercutting its advancement, which William I. Robinson alternately refers to as ‘low-intensity democracy’ or ‘polyarchy.’

The promotion of low-intensity democracy by the US has not altered in any substantive sense the nature of US regional hegemony (or imperial ambitions in Haiti for that matter), it has only given it a new guise with a legitimacy all its own that better coincides with the 21st century political and economic climate. This shift towards the promotion of low-intensity democracy as a strategy to reconsolidate US hegemony on a regional (indeed now global) scale thus marks an important historical shift in US foreign policy from an essentially coercive-based platform to a more consensual-based one that legitimatizes existing inequalities, but does so more effectively than force. The immediate purpose of low-intensity democracy promotion in Haiti was to attempt to shape its transition to democracy in such a way as to preempt more radical political change, protect the socioeconomic status quo, and more generally to safeguard international relations of asymmetry. The sweeping election victory of Aristide in 1990, however, threw these plans into jeopardy and in one fell swoop threatened to undermine nearly 200 years of US domination.

Having gone through 19 years of US occupation only to endure 2 successive brutal dictatorships shortly thereafter, ordinary Haitians finally saw their opportunity to make a final break with the past and start anew in 1990. Building upon the momentum created by the collapse of the Duvalier dynasty, several grassroots organizations around this time merged to form a popular movement known as Lavalas, which in Creole literally translates into “avalanche” or “flood.” The Lavalas movement can be best characterized as a civil uprising that represents the collective concerns of Haiti’s poor from the slums of Port-au-Prince to the far-off rural communities who together aspire for popular democracy and self-determination. Aristide was by now the undisputed leader of Lavalas and the most popular and beloved figure in Haiti and was easily elected president with an overwhelming 67.5 % of the vote, while the US backed candidate only received 14.2 % despite the fact that he outspent Aristide in his campaign by a margin of 20-1.

Aristide was therefore the unexpected and uninvited outcome of Haiti’s ‘transition to democracy’ that the US was trying to encourage. As Paul Farmer, author of The Uses of Haiti, succinctly captures, “Aristide – slum priest, grassroots activist, exponent of liberation theology – represents everything that the CIA, DOD, and FBI think they have been trying to protect this country [the US] against for the past 50 years” (Farmer 2003, 310). The ascendancy of the Lavalas movement from grassroots organization to the reins of political power under the Aristide government represented not just a threat to the status quo in Haiti, but more importantly still, to a worldwide project whose purpose is to subject popular majorities to the logic of the ruling minority. The US government as a result developed a three pronged strategy to fatally undermine and destabilize the Lavalas movement: first, withhold crucial US aid; second, embark on a media smear campaign to discredit and assault the personal character of Aristide himself; and finally, carry out low-intensity democracy promotion with the specific intent of propping up a government organized around elite rule and underpinned by a neoliberal economic order.

Shortly after Aristide took office, the administration of then US president George Bush approved, but then curiously withheld, the release of $84 million in economic aid to Haiti because the Aristide government supposedly failed to meet several conditions attached to the aid package – chief among them was assurance to Washington that human rights in the country were being respected (the previous Duvalier dictatorships were exempt from such conditions despite a consistent record of human rights abuses). Another far more important (and accurate) reason for the suspension of the US aid was the Bush administration’s fear that Arisitide’s coming proposal to raise the minimum wage in Haiti from $3 to $5 would destroy its enclave assembly sector and, consequently, discourage direct foreign investment in the country. While ostensibly distributed for the individual purpose of eradicating Haiti’s poverty, US aid programs have in fact done far more to support the Haitian elite, playing a critical role in keeping the country’s economy in line with US interests. The current and ongoing plight of Haiti should be understood to occur not in spite of US aid, but rather because of it – or more bluntly still, the historical use of aid as a strategic political and economic weapon aimed directly at Haiti’s poor majority.

If the central role of the mainstream US media has been to essentially function as the mouthpiece of the US State Department, it has not only succeeded completely but also managed to provide the subtle art of state-propaganda with a much needed semblance of neutrality in the process. Following the coup of Aristide in 1991, the US set about paying lip-service to the democratic process that elected him, while at the same time engaging in a broad behind-the-scenes effort to discredit him personally so as to facilitate the long desired power-sharing arrangement with the Haitian elite. The US media and subservient intellectual class kowtowed as usual behind official US foreign policy, characterizing the recently ousted Aristide as “a populist demagogue” (LA Times), “a mix of Khomeni and Castro” (New York Times), “whose politics come from Robespierre” (Washington Post), all the while calling into question his human rights record and overall competency (Ridgeway 1994, 121). These charges levied against Aristide would not only prove to be absolutely false, but in fact various international human rights monitoring groups went on to confirm that human rights violations in Haiti actually decreased significantly during his time in office. As American dissident and longtime US foreign policy analyst Noam Chomsky critically observes, “…there is no reason to be surprised [that the US government and media] suddenly began to show such sensitive concern for human rights and democracy just as human rights violations precipitously decline and democracy (though not in the preferred ‘top-down’ sense) begins to flower” (Farmer 2003, 30).

As much as the US government wanted Aristide and his government gone, it could not, however, in the 21st century openly support a military coup of a democratically elected head of state and play part to such an egregious violation of international law any more than it could afford to see Aristide return to power and go on to threaten US imperial ambitions in Haiti. The goal then, as Robinson affirms, was to orchestrate an arrangement under which Aristide could return to Haiti albeit as a “powerless and largely ceremonial president…with his institutional power so diluted, and the power of the coup-makers and their civilian backers so enhanced, that it would be impossible for his government to fulfill its own political agenda and that of the popular majority…” (Robinson 1996, 291). The US strategy to impose economic sanctions and a trade embargo on Haiti would do just that. Ostensibly designed to both protect human rights and slowly force the Haitian military dictatorship out of power through economic strangulation, the US sanctions and trade embargo ironically only produced the inverse effect: intensifying human rights violations (reported to be worse than at any other time since the Duvalier era) and disproportionately hurting Haiti’s poor majority, while leaving the de facto government fundamentally untouched. Elizabeth D. Gibbons, author of Sanctions in Haiti, affirms, “…it seems both absurd and legally questionable for the [US and the] United Nations to apply measures that actually help the party undermining international security, while harming those against whom the worst human rights violations are being committed. Yet this is the effect of the sanctions regime imposed on Haiti” (Gibbons 1998, 38).

The immediate impact of the US sanctions and trade embargo against Haiti was swift and far-reaching, wreaking havoc on a helpless civilian population already living under extreme poverty. In the first few months following the military coup, Haiti’s per capita income decreased by 30% and inflation in the country rose almost 140%. Soaring inflation during this period, coupled with the scarcity of basic goods and foodstuffs, carried with it serious consequences on the health and nutrition of Haiti’s poor majority, above all the young and very old. The military, on the other hand, faced no such difficulty securing even the most precious resources such as fuel, allowing it to hoard whatever it deemed of value while also controlling the supply and distribution of such goods. In sum, the US sanctions and trade embargo ultimately facilitated the military’s work: a population that is weak, hungry, and overworked is one that is more preoccupied with struggling to survive than it is with mounting any form of organized resistance. Yasmine Shamsie, an authority on low-intensity democracy promotion in Haiti, has this to say:

A careful reading of Haitian history reveals that keeping certain sectors of civil society weak and disorganized was one way that the country’s elites were able to prevent the establishment of democracy and to preserve a system of surplus extraction which enriched them while ensuring that the rest of the country remained impoverished and economically marginalized (Shamsie 2004)

The single fact that Haiti’s assembly sector was exempt from the US sanctions and trade embargo shortly after being launched says much about where US interests actually lied. US direct foreign investment in Haiti before the 1991 coup was based almost exclusively in the assembly sector under which its low-wage and unskilled labor pool toiled in sweatshops assembling component parts for export goods destined for the US. After the coup, little changed as Haiti continued to export goods to the US, amassing an overall trade deficit of $160 million and avoiding complete disaster only because of the $125 million in remittances sent home annually from Haitians living abroad. The overall hardships that the US sanctions and trade embargo induced on Haiti’s poor majority, coupled with the systematic repression of the military, resulted in a drastic upsurge in Haitian refugees seeking asylum in the US and sailing on makeshift rafts in droves to US shores. The US government under then president Bill Clinton concluded that Aristide’s return to Haiti could no longer be postponed and was essential to US interests in the region because it was the only way Washington could “stem the flow of Haitian refugees, which transformed Haiti from a problem into a crisis and sent the Clinton Administration into a state of near-hysteria”(Mcfadyen 1995, 220).

In 1994, US and UN forces invaded Haiti and restored Aristide to power with little opposition. The invasion had the image of a confrontation between a liberating force and a corrupt military regime; however, it was in effect the final seal of a long-term pact between the US government and the Haitian elite. As Robinson again comments, “True to the original script, Aristide returned as a largely lame-duck president required constitutionally to step down after elections scheduled for December 1995, having spent the majority of his presidency in exile” (Robinson 1996, 247). Aristide was thus returned to Haiti to legitimate the very processes he was originally elected to eliminate: a government vulnerable to the excesses of a highly volatile military, and a neoliberal economic order based on the country’s export driven assembly sector. As writer Kim Ives notes, whether Aristide upon his return was prisoner to US imperial ambitions in Haiti, a player, or something in between is irrelevant; his government was always just a portrait – the real regime remains American (Mcfadyen 1995, 118).

Russia After Communism: Elites, Oligarchs, and the New Dictatorship

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 18:53:00 +0000

Below is an essay I wrote a couple of years ago in 2007 about Russia's transition to 'democracy', which I think is worth sharing here. A fully cited version is available upon request.

By Ali Mustafa

The dissolution of the Soviet Union in the closing days of 1991 was an event as monumental as it was sudden. In what was surely one of the most historic events of the twentieth century, a vast empire occupying one-sixth of the earth’s surface splintered into fifteen new states virtually overnight and Communism as a global ideology found itself out of favor and in retreat. The end of the Cold War appeared to signal to many the uncontested supremacy of Western liberal democracy and had some even going so far as to announce, as one commentator boldly put it, “the end of history.” But what has been hailed by the West as the fall of Soviet totalitarianism and a triumphal victory for democracy and freedom has been met by ordinary Russians themselves with growing disillusionment, cynicism, and ironically a newfound appreciation for the security and order that was guaranteed under Soviet rule. The Soviet Union was undoubtedly one of the most brutal and repressive regimes to surface in the twentieth century, reaching its apex of horrors during the reign of Stalin under whom millions are estimated to have been mercilessly purged, but what has since replaced it has proven no more a democracy than its predecessor and in many ways represents a continuation rather than a departure with the past.

More than a decade after the fall of the Soviet Union, the free market is well established and elections are a regular mainstay of post-Soviet Russia; however, while elections are an indispensable element of any liberal democracy, in and of themselves they do not indicate the achievement of democracy. Russian democracy today is still rife with the same deep-rooted corruption, organized crime, and clientelism so redolent of the country’s Tsarist and Soviet past that it can only be properly characterized as a new dictatorship. What in fact prevailed in Russia in late 1991 was not democracy, nor was it the free market, but instead a case of backdoor privatization that saw the old Communist Party elite – disguised under the populism of Boris Yeltsin – merely transform itself into the new capitalist class through skillfully co-opting the popular democratic movement into its own image. Russian democracy was from its inception – and remains to this day – little more than a self coup in which the centralized state never disappeared but only sought to reconsolidate its authority under the guise of liberal democracy by relieving itself of the tarnished legacy and increasingly untenable legitimacy of the Soviet system. As Peter Reddaway and Dmitri Glinski, co-authors of The Tragedy of Russia’s Reforms, affirm:

By 1991, the breakup of the Soviet Union was probably inevitable, but widely differing views existed about the desirable timing and mechanics of the breakup. In practice, it came about in an abrupt, clandestine, and undemocratic way, and the newly independent states that emerged have continued to bear the scars caused by what in about half the cases was a sudden, painful, and premature birth. This is an important issue because a more gradual and democratic process of separation might have created more politically viable successor states (Reddaway & Glinski 2001, 245).

But why exactly did the Soviet Union dissolve in the first place and what were the socioeconomic factors that can be attributed as the source of its undoing? Many historians have situated the economic reforms of Mikhail Gorbachev during his rise to power in 1985 as the beginning of the end of the Soviet Union, and they are not wrong in doing so; however, to dismiss the origins of its decline – the economic stagnation of the mid 1970s and early 1980s that prompted these ambitious, ultimately self-defeating reforms – is to fatally overstate the personal politics of the late Soviet Union and to miss the deep-rooted structural flaws underlying them. By the mid 70s the Soviet Union found itself growing exceedingly dependent on an export-based economy (exporting primarily raw materials and energy) that impeded technological innovation and development and prevented it from staying competitive in the global economy. The Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) at this point could only encourage production growth within the existing mode of production through systematically applied intimidation and coercion, compensating however possible for workers who failed to find any incentive in exceeding production quotas that would only amount to even more unaccredited labor. Due to a woeful combination of managerial incompetence, backward development, and technological decline, vast portions of the grain harvest were lost annually (as much as 30%), causing the Soviet Union from the 70s onwards to become dependent on grain imports from Europe and the U.S. to feed its population.

As a result of a resurgence in Cold War tensions at the time, The Soviet command economy (whose origins can be traced back to Stalin’s Five Year Plans) was by the early 80s dedicated almost exclusively to military production, allowing it to stay competitive in the arms race with the U.S. and the other NATO countries – but only at the expense of the overall economy, especially consumer goods production, which lagged dangerously behind regional standards. The popular saying that ‘the Soviet Union does not have a military industrial complex, it is one’ reflects well the extent to which the Soviet economy, and indeed the empire itself, grew consumed by the mounting external military pressure applied by the U.S. during this period. But as necessary as it may have seemed at the time to keep pace in the Cold War arms race with the U.S., the bloated military buildup during the Reagan/Carter years contributed in no small way to the exhaustion of both the Soviet economy and labor pool, setting the stage for perestroika and ultimately the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Gorbachev came to power in 1985, inheriting a Soviet system that was already in deep social, economic, and political crisis. Committed to modernizing the Soviet system, while leaving its twin pillars of uncontested Communist Party rule and the centrally planned economy fundamentally intact, Gorbachev launched within months of taking office a programme of limited economic reforms he called 'perestroika.' Gorbachev’s perestroika proved an impractical compromise from the beginning, sitting uneasily on the border between central planning and the free market with the coherence of neither and the inherent pitfalls of both. As the state of the Soviet economy quickly eroded from stagnation to deterioration, Gorbachev’s strategy of reform from above backfired into a revolution from below and not only undermined to a fatal degree the legitimacy of the CPSU, but also provided fertile ground for the populist rhetoric of Boris Yeltsin (himself a former member of the CPSU) who would use the turning tides of Soviet rule to his own undemocratic ends.

As Gorbachev’s authority waned and the CPSU was reduced to a mere shell of its former self, Yeltsin in turn saw his popularity skyrocket and, after forcing the country’s first ever popular elections, was voted president of Russia in June of 1991. The absence of a clear division between Soviet Union and Russian institutions that followed “…gave rise to a dangerous vacuum of authority. Russia in effect suffered from a form of dual power, with two presidents, and two parliaments, which gave rise to a type of ‘dual powerlessness’ and a paralysis of government” (Sakwa 2002, 33). Dual power, however, would prove short-lived as Yeltsin wasted little time in maneuvering to capture piece by piece what remained of the Soviet Union. Sensing nearly a century of uncontested power and privilege quickly slipping away, Communist hardliners in one last ditch effort to save the empire from collapse staged a botched coup in August of 1991 that in the end only precipitated its demise, as Richard Sakwa, author of Russian Politics and Society, affirms:

While the nature of the coup remains controversial its effects are clear: the collapse of the once all-powerful Communist Party and the disintegration of the Soviet Union itself…The Soviet system had destroyed the old Russian middle class and the cultural intelligentsia; it had destroyed the self-sufficient peasantry and Russia’s [agriculture sector]; the system had squandered the vast natural resources of the country and the wealth accumulated from the past; and in its final act the cannibalistic regime devoured itself (Sakwa 2002, 31).

With the Soviet Union dissolved and Yeltsin now firmly in command, the future of the newborn Russian Federation was still very much in the balance. Two coalitions surfaced during this period (from 1990-92) vying for Yeltsin’s favor and an active role in helping shape his socioeconomic programme: the popular democratic movement, campaigning more or less on behalf of the vanished middle class and wider participation in Russia’s political and economic transition; and the old Communist Party elite, or 'nomenklatura,' who saw its best hope for continued survival in securing a frontline position on the fast track towards privatization by transforming power and privilege once enjoyed by custom into property defended by right (Reddaway & Glinski 2001, 268). Russia in effect found itself caught in the balance between democratic reformists and radical freemarketeers, populists and elitists, idealists and shrewd pragmatists; the former carrying with it all the momentum and the latter, much more fatefully, all of the influence. Posed with the choice of empowering a historically marginalized and repressed sector of civil society at the direct risk of undermining his own rule, or turning to a model of free market privatization that would essentially maintain the historical balance of power, Yeltsin decisively chose tradition over change. Yeltsin himself had this to say about Russia’s socioeconomic transformation:

It was a wildly painful break, surgically crude, with the rusty grinding sound of pieces of old parts and mechanisms being ripped out together with the flesh, but the break occurred. Most likely, it simply could not have happened any other way. We had virtually nothing to work with apart from Stalin’s industry, Stalin’s economy, adapted to the present day. And its make-up dictated precisely by that sort of a break: over the knee. The system was destroyed in the same way it was created (Sakwa 2002, 279).

From the very outset of the collapse of the Soviet Union and the official end of the Cold War, Yeltsin understood that the West would represent an indispensable ally on its path towards the free market. In a speech made in October of 1991 Yeltsin declared enthusiastically, “We turn officially to the IMF, the World Bank, and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development, and invite them to elaborate detailed plans for cooperation and participation in the economic reforms.” IMF loans would indeed follow but only with rigid conditionalities attached that were together politically overbearing and economically counterproductive. The IMF also introduced as a way to stimulate the fledgling free market economy a development scheme fittingly called ‘shock therapy’ that encompassed “…austerity, budget cuts, and deflation, with little regard for the social consequences” (Reddaway and Glinski 2001, 292). The havoc that shock therapy wrought throughout all strata of Russian society – save Yeltsin and the nomenklatura of which he was an extension – cannot be minimized: spiraling out of control prices, plummeting living standards, and a fall in overall production that was only matched by the growing army of the unemployed and poor. While shock therapy did its worst on Russian society, Yeltsin himself remained above the fray and in fact directly benefited from the multibillion dollar IMF loans, much of which were pocketed by Yeltsin and his administration without any intent of repayment. Yeltsin elected to leave the Soviet era behind by assuming all of its defining features: an over inflated bureaucracy built upon patron-client relations, a messianic vanguard model of development and progress, and endemic corruption.

The process of backdoor privatization that occurred in post-communist Russia under Yeltsin gave birth to a new micro-elite class known collectively as 'the oligarchs' whose vast wealth was accumulated by opportunely dividing amongst themselves previously state owned enterprises at bargain prices in the now infamous loans-for-shares scandal of 1995. The loans-for-shares scandal, according to Sakwa, was one in which Yeltsin “…favored certain insider interests in the privatization process in return for funds that would ensure that the machinery of the government could continue to turn… [but] it was understood by all that the government would default on the loans and the oligarchs would get the companies for a song” (Sakawa 2002, 82). Up to 70% of Russia’s economy is currently estimated to be under the control of only a handful of these oligarchs including former state owned enterprises in such lucrative sectors as energy, telecommunications, and the mass media. A country that suffered under the rule of one absolutist tzar after the next, only to endure the brutal dictatorship of Stalin that would follow, now found itself being ruled by a small and elusive self-appointed clique whose wealth and influence far exceeded even the highest ranking Communist Party officials.

Organized crime and the ‘shadow economy’ that it invariably stimulates were both – and still are – very much essential to the continued survival of ordinary Russians; however, what was once tolerated by the CPSU because it functioned largely as a safety valve for popular resentment that might otherwise manifest itself in total rebellion has today found its way into the uppermost levels of the Russian government. The degree to which the “free market” and “democracy” in post-communist Russia has become tied with organized crime is such that it is virtually impossible to distinguish anymore where legal economic activity ends and the ‘shadow economy’ begins. Russian intelligence reports indicate that as much as 40% of the country’s wealth is under the control of criminal groups, with these groups believed to have infiltrated government bodies at both the regional and national levels. As Sakwa accurately notes, “In the absence of a state able to enforce rules and to adjudicate between interests, organized crime stepped into enforce contracts, regulate economic [activity] and property rights. Corruption, in other words, worked from the top down and from the bottom up, squeezing honest business and endeavor entirely out of existence.”

However unbearable life in the Soviet Union may have seemed – and it certainly was awful – the security and order guaranteed under the old system must in hindsight seem vastly superior when contrasted to the vastly reduced public order, increased socioeconomic uncertainty, and generally heightened stratification associated with the post-Communist order. While few would argue for the return of Stalin or the general atmosphere of despair and hopelessness that plagued late Soviet society, when put into perspective the Soviet Union undoubtedly enjoyed many advantages over the current Russian Federation: “free education and healthcare, a comprehensive and diverse system of pensions and social benefits, job security, extensively subsidized housing, basic foodstuffs, public transportation…[all of which] contributed to a meager but reliable floor of living standards for the vast majority of Soviet people” (Kuchins 2002, 147). According to a report recently published by the World Bank, the percentage of the Russian population living in poverty (making less than $2 a day) has grown from an estimated 2.2 million (less than 2% of the population) in 1987-88 to 57.8 million (approximately 40% of the population) by the mid 1990s.

Poverty in Russia today is also largely a female phenomenon. In the late 1990’s almost 80% of the unemployed in Russia were women, most of whom have been forced into prostitution or unwittingly bought and sold into sex slavery via European and Asian human trafficking networks. The commodification and hyper-sexualization of the female body under capitalism has in effect reduced women in Russia to second-class citizens, undercutting to a fatal degree the Marxist notion of ‘class struggle’ valorized by the Soviet Union and the system of gender equality implicit therein.

Vladimir Putin assumed office in 2000 as Yeltsin’s hand picked successor and has essentially picked up where Yeltsin left off in upholding and indeed reinforcing the political and economic status quo. As the state capitalism of the Soviet Union has given way to backdoor private deals, Russia has found itself no closer to genuine democracy and self-determination than it was under Stalin. Since ascending to power, Putin has attempted to reassert the centrality of the state that was lacking under his predecessor’s tenuous and unpredictable reign. After a decade and a half of shock therapy, incomplete liberal reforms, and the emergence of a new dictatorship, the Russian people are left wondering if they are truly witnessing history, or merely history repeated.

"Boycotts work": An interview with Omar Barghouti

noreply@blogger.com (Ali Mustafa) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 11:20:00 +0000

The Electronic Intifada

By Ali Mustafa

Omar Barghouti is an independent Palestinian researcher, commentator and human rights activist and a leader of the Palestinian campaign of boycott, divestment and sanctions to force Israel to uphold international law and universal human rights. Barghouti discussed the growing worldwide campaign with The Electronic Intifada contributor Ali Mustafa.

Ali Mustafa: Why do you characterize Israel as an apartheid state and how is it similar or different than apartheid South Africa?

Omar Barghouti: We don't have to prove that Israel is identical to apartheid South Africa in order to justify the label "apartheid." Apartheid is a generalized crime according to United Nations conventions and there are certain criteria that may or may not apply to any specific situation - so we judge a situation on its own merits and whether or not it fulfills those conditions of being called an apartheid state. According to the basic conventions of the UN defining the crime of apartheid, Israel satisfies almost all the conditions to be granted the label of apartheid. Other than the clear racial separation in the occupied West Bank between Jews and non-Jews (indigenous Palestinians) - separate roads, separate housing, separate everything - apartheid is also alive and well inside Israel despite appearances [to the contrary]. Unlike South Africa, Israel is more sophisticated; it's an evolved form of apartheid. South African apartheid was rudimentary, primitive, so to speak - black, white, clear separation, no rights ... The Palestinian citizens of Israel (the indigenous population) have the right to vote, which is a huge difference from South Africa. However, in every other vital domain, they are discriminated against by law, not only by policy. Therefore, it is legalized and institutionalized racism and that's what makes it apartheid - there is racism in Canada and other western democracies as well, but the difference is that it's not legalized and institutionalized, at least not any longer ...

In Israel there are basic laws, meaning the equivalent of the constitution, as Israel does not have a constitution, where there is clear-cut discrimination between Jews and non-Jews. The most important rights that are given to Jewish citizens and not given to non-Jewish citizens are the right to automatic citizenship and nationality for any Jewish immigrant who comes from abroad to Israel. There is no "Israeli" nationality, but there is "Jewish" nationality - Palestinians as citizens can never get nationality in Israel ... because there is no such thing as an Israeli nationality, whereas Palestinian refugees who were ethnically cleansed by Israel in 1948 and since then are not entitled to go back to their homes of origin as stipulated by international law simply because they are not Jewish - so this is the kind of apartheid we have.

Another very important point is that 93 percent land ownership in Israel by law is off limits to its so-called non-Jewish citizens - 93 percent is only for the benefit of Jewish citizens of the State of Israel - if this is not apartheid, I don't know what is. Even in South Africa, the percentage of land that was off-limits to blacks was 86 percent, even lower than in Israel. But of course, many analysts would say that the Israeli occupation and denial of refugee rights is even much worse than anything South Africa had, which is true; South Africa never bombed bantustans with F-16s, they never had this level of outright violence and massacres. Of course, there was Sharpeville, so many massacres in Soweto, and so on, but it all pales in comparison to what Israel has been doing to the Palestinians and this is according to testimonies from Desmond Tutu, Ronnie Kasrils, and many South African leaders who should know.

AM: One of the most contentious aspects of the boycott, divestment and sanctions campaign is the academic boycott. Can you clarify exactly what this means and why Israeli academic institutions are, as you argue, such a fundamental extension of the Israeli state and state policy?

OB: The academic boycott, which was called for by the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel in 2004, is an institutional boycott - so it's a call to every conscientious academic and academic institution to boycott every Israeli academic institution because of their complicity in perpetuating Israel's occupation and other forms of oppression ... Complicity in the case of Israel is different than academic complicity elsewhere. In Canada, for example, your biggest universities are certainly complicit in Canadian policy, especially since they're all state-funded universities exactly like in Israel ... But what's different is that in Israel, they are in full organic partnership with the security/military establishment - so that most of the weapons developed by the Israeli army are done through the universities, most of the research justifying the repression of the Palestinians and denial of Palestinian rights is done by academics in the universities in academic programs; many of the colonization projects that are considered by international law to be war crimes have been produced by universities. The wall [in the West Bank] for example was produced in an academic environment; an academic at Haifa University claims that this is his brainchild and there is no reason not to believe him because he has produced other projects that were terribly involved in the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians even inside Israel. At every level there is a very deep, entrenched complicity between the Israeli academia and the security/military establishment.

Also, all Israeli academics, like all Israelis within a certain age group, with some exceptions, serve in the occupation reserve army. They serve as occupying soldiers part-time every year, three months every year ... You go and leave academia, your research, you leave everything, and you serve at a checkpoint or worse - so you're either participating in committing human rights violations or war crimes, or at least you watch them with total apathy - in both cases you're very complicit even at an individual level; the universities not only tolerate that, they promote that - this is part of the system. Despite this, we are not calling for boycotting individual academics but institutions. The only reason why our boycott is not individual is because otherwise it would be McCarthyist – it would involve some form of McCarthyism or political test: who is a good academic, who is bad, and who decides? And we don't want to get into that because it's a very troubling prospect to have political tests and in principle, we are against political tests, so that's why we have an institutional boycott.

AM: One common argument against the boycott, divestment and sanctions campaign is that dialogue is more constructive than boycotts. How would you respond?

OB: That's wrong factually and wrong logically. Factually, there have been so many attempts at dialogue since 1993 when the so-called peace process was announced at Oslo. There were many dialogue organizations and initiatives established; it became an industry - we call it the peace industry. You could get rich very fast by getting involved in one of those dialogue groups and you get to travel to Europe and stay in fancy hotels and get a lot of money in return, but otherwise it produces absolutely nothing on the ground. The main reason is because it's morally flawed and based on the false premise that this so-called conflict is mainly due to mutual hatred and, therefore, you need some kind of therapy or dialogue between those two equivalent, symmetric, warring parties. Put them in a room, force them to talk to one another, then they will fall in love, the hatred will go away and you will have your Romeo and Juliet story. Of course, this is deceitful and morally very corrupt because the conflict is a colonial conflict - it's not a domestic dispute between a husband and wife - it's a colonial conflict based on ethnic cleansing, racism, colonialism and apartheid. Without taking away the roots of the conflict you cannot have any coexistence, at least not ethical coexistence.

There are many other issues related to this dialogue industry in that you don't have dialogue between asymmetric parties, you have negotiations. To have a dialogue you have to have a certain minimal level of a common denominator based on a common vision for the ultimate solution based on equality and ending injustice. If you don't have that common denominator than it's negotiation between the stronger and weaker party and, as I've written elsewhere, you can't have a bridge between them but only a ladder where you go up or down not across ... I call this the master/slave type of coexistence ... A master and a slave can also reach an agreement where this is reality and you cannot challenge it and you make the best out of it. There is no war, no conflict, nobody is killing anybody, but a master remains a master and the slave remains a slave – so this is not the kind of peace that we the oppressed are seeking. The minimum is to have a just peace. Only with justice can we have a sustainable peace. So dialogue does not work - it has not worked in reality and cannot work in principle. Boycotts have worked in reality and in principle so there is absolutely no reason why they cannot work, because Israel has total impunity given the official support it gets from the west in all fields (economic, cultural, academic and so on). Without raising the price of its oppression, it will never give up; it will never concede on any of our rights.

AM: There is the historical example of South African apartheid, but are there any other types of historical forms of nonviolent resistance - not necessarily boycotts - that the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI) draws its inspiration from?

OB: Yes, from Palestinian nonviolence. For a hundred years, well before the South African inspiration, we have been mainly inspired by our own history and roots of civil resistance. In a hundred years of conflict with the settler-colonial conquest of Zionism, we have resisted Zionism mostly by civil resistance and not violent or armed resistance, unlike the common myth that Palestinian resistance is only armed. This is not true. For more than a hundred years Palestinians have resisted with cultural and artistic resistance, strikes, demonstrations, women's and trade union organizing, and so on. The majority of people were involved in nonviolent resistance before the inspiration of Gandhi and that of South Africa.

AM: Many academics, even those generally sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, argue that any proposed academic boycott jeopardizes the principle of academic freedom. Is there any truth to that claim?

OB: The claim is very biased in that it privileges Israeli academic freedom over any other, so they completely ignore that by denying Palestinians their basic rights - all of our freedoms, including academic freedom - Israel is also infringing deeply on our academic freedom. That doesn't count, it seems. We never heard those liberal voices when Israel shut down Palestinian universities during the first intifada [uprising] - Birzeit University was shut down for four [consecutive] years, for example. We haven't heard much of an outcry among those liberals who are now shouting academic freedom. Is academic freedom a privilege to whites only? Do we global southerners deserve academic freedom? Are we equally human or not? So those people who are shouting academic freedom are either hypocrites or racists, I'm sorry to say it. They are either hypocritical in that they only care about academic freedom for Israelis and they consider them white, European, Jewish, civilized and not for us Palestinians who are southerners and brown - this is at a theoretical level. In principle the academic boycott that PACBI is calling for and all our partners are adopting is institutional; therefore, it does not infringe on the rights and privileges of Israeli academics to go out and participate in conferences and so on so long as this is not the product of an institutional link - we are calling for cutting all institutional links, not to cut off visits by individual academics, or artists, or cultural figures to participate in events and so on - they can and they do and that will not stop - so it's really very hypocritical and deceptive to call the academic boycott a form of infringement on academic freedom.

AM: Some have even claimed that such an academic boycott would actually enhance academic freedom of Israeli academics. Could you elaborate on that a little bit?

OB: Professor Oren Ben-Dor, who is an Israeli-British philosopher who supports the boycott, argued this in an article early on a few years ago. He said that in Israel, there's actually no academic freedom when it comes to the taboo issues such as the history of the conflict: the ethnic cleansing, the Nakba [catastrophe], the different sets of laws for Arabs and Jews inside the State of Israel. There are certain taboos that are untouchable in Israeli academia. Oren Ben-Dor's argument was that the academic boycott would force Israeli academics and institutions to discuss those taboo issues - and finally they are discussing them. So in a way the boycott actually promoted a certain level of academic freedom in Israel that was missing.

AM: Another common argument made by critics of the boycott, divestment and sanctions campaign is that only once Hamas ceases launching rockets into Israel will peace be possible. How would you respond to this claim?

OB: In the West Bank you have a largely quisling government that is completely supporting Israel in anything it wants to do. They get immediate support from the Palestinian Authority (PA) in Ramallah, which is an unelected authority imposed by an American general - despite that it has not stopped the construction of the wall (which is illegal according to the International Court of Justice at the Hague), or the construction of settlements (which are also illegal; they are considered war crimes under international law), or the checkpoints (there are close to 700 roadblocks and checkpoints preventing the freedom of movement of Palestinians), or the confiscation of land, or the indiscriminate killings (including of children), or the imprisonment of political prisoners, or all the other repressive measures of the occupation that are designed to ethnically cleanse the indigenous Palestinians in a very slow and gradual, but persistent, manner. So we have not seen any difference in the repression between the West Bank and Gaza, prior to the war of course, that can be related to Hamas or not to Hamas. In the West Bank, the PA is ruling, not Hamas, so clearly this is a policy of the State of Israel. It's irrelevant if Hamas accepts Israel's right to exist as a Jewish state or accepts the 1967 borders ... Israel will never accept our rights unless it is forced to. Our 60 years of experience with Zionist colonial oppression and apartheid has shown us that unless we resist by all means - particularly through civil resistance - to force Israel into a pariah status in the world, like South Africa was turned in the 1980s, there is no chance of advancing the prospects for a just peace.

AM: Finally, you have argued numerous times in your published works that ultimately you would like to see in historic Palestine a binational, secular, democratic state...

OB: Not a binational state - I am completely against binationalism. A secular, democratic state, yes, but not binational. There is a big difference.

AM: What exactly is the sentiment on the ground in Palestine on this question?

OB: I must clarify that the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement takes no position on the shape of the political solution. It adopts a rights-based, not solutions-based, approach. I am completely and categorically against binationalism because it assumes that there are two nations with equal moral claims to the land and therefore, we have to accommodate both national rights. I am completely opposed to that, but it would take me too long to explain why, so I will stick to the model I support, which is a secular, democratic state: one person, one vote - regardless of ethnicity, religion, nationality, gender, and so on and so forth ... Full equality under the law with the inclusion of the refugees - this must be based on the right of return for Palestinian refugees. In other words, a secular, democratic state that accommodates our inalienable rights as Palestinians with the acquired rights of Israeli Jews as settlers. Why do I see this as the main solution? Morally, it's obviously the most moral solution because it treats people as equals, the two-state solution is not only impossible now - Israel has made it an absolute pipe dream that cannot happen - it is an immoral solution. At best, it would address some of the rights of Palestinians in the occupied West Bank and Gaza, while ignoring the majority of Palestinians - those in exile, the refugees, as well as the Palestinian citizens of Israel. There are three segments of the Palestinian people - unless you address the basic requirements of justice for all three segments than we will not have exercised our right to self-determination. The only way that we can exercise our right to self-determination, without imposing unnecessary injustice on our oppressors, is to have a secular, democratic state where nobody is thrown into the sea, nobody is sent back to Poland, and nobody is left in refugee camps. We can coexist ethically with our rights given back to us.

Now on the ground, back to your question, there is no political party in Palestine now or among Palestinians outside either calling for a secular, democratic one-state solution. Despite this, polls in the West Bank and Gaza have consistently in the last few years shown 25-30 percent support for a secular, democratic state. Two polls in 2007 showed two-thirds majority support for a single state solution in all flavors - some of them think of a purely Palestinian state without Israelis and so on - in exile it's even much higher because the main issue is that refugees in particular, and people fighting for refugee rights like I am, know that you cannot reconcile the right of return for refugees with a two state solution. That is the big white elephant in the room and people are ignoring it - a return for refugees would end Israel's existence as a Jewish state. The right of return is a basic right that cannot be given away; it's inalienable. A two-state solution was never moral and it's no longer working - it's impossible with all the Israeli settlements and so on. We need to move on to the more moral solution that treats everyone as equal under the law, whether they are Jewish-Israeli or Palestinian.

AM: You hear a lot of academics and public intellectuals like Noam Chomsky and Norman Finkelstein saying that the two-state solution represents the international consensus, and that the one-state solution of the kind that you speak is unrealistic...

OB: The siege against Gaza is also an expression of international consensus - that doesn't make it right. It's an international conspiracy that is a war crime - it's a crime against humanity, despite support from the UN and all the powers that be around the world ... It's amazing for activists, and public intellectuals who are counted as activists, to support the international consensus when they like to, and they oppose it on every other account. When Professor Chomsky opposed the Indonesian occupation of East Timor there was an international consensus supporting Indonesia. No one raised, before Chomsky, the issue of freedom for East Timor - it was Chomsky first and foremost, and he single-handedly pushed this on the agenda until now we have the autonomy of East Timor and semi-independence. So international consensus often means that the main powers agree on an injustice because it fits their interests - that doesn't mean that we have to accept that; we have to struggle to change that and the way we do that is on the ground. By proposing the more moral solution we are saying that this can mobilize universal support from around the world - except from those who are keen to maintain Israel as a racist, ethnocentric state.