22 Feb 2011 | News
Gaddafi’s tight rein on journalists means that protests in Libya are particularly difficult to monitor, as violence escalates. Libya is placed 160th out of 178 countries in Reporters Without Borders’ press freedom index 2010.
Sarah Leah Whitson from Human Rights Watch explained the difficulties of counting the number of demonstrators on America’s NPR:
“[It’s] extremely hard to say because we are only relying on eyewitnesses in the ground and estimating numbers of crowds is the most inaccurate information that people ever give. But we have reports of thousands and tens of thousands people demonstrating in various cities.”
CNN is claiming that the channel’s correspondent Ben Wedeman, who entered eastern Libya from Egypt, is the “first Western television correspondent to enter and report from Libya during the current crisis”.
Meanwhile, Nazanine Moshiri has filed Al Jazeera’s first report from the border with Libya. Details are scant, however. On Tuesday morning eyewitness in Tripoli reported extreme violence, with “fighter jets bombarding and heavily armed mercenaries using high-caliber, perhaps even anti-aircraft guns on protesters”. But, as Al Jazeera reports: “So far, though, almost no images or videos have emerged of the attacks.”
Libyans are unlikely to be able to access Al Jazeera’s coverage: its website is blocked in Libya, and the country’s intelligence agency is behind a “powerful jamming” that has disrupted its television signal in the Middle East and North Africa, according to a report on Reuters Africa.
“The source of (the) signal blockage has been pinpointed to a Libyan intelligence agency building… south of the capital Tripoli,” said Al Jazeera, whose coverage of a regional political unrest has been watched across the Arab world.”
At the time of writing, death count estimates vary. The International Federation for Human Rights says that protests have resulted in 300 to 400 deaths, with thousands injured. On 20 February, Human Rights Watch reported the death toll was up to 233 over four days.
21 Feb 2011 | Comment, Middle East and North Africa, News
The revoking of arms licences to Libya and Bahrain won’t last. British firms will be back, argues John Kampfner
This piece first appeared on Comment is Free, Guardian.co.uk.
When Robin Cook tried to tighten rules on British arms sales to dodgy regimes in 1997 he was told by Tony Blair’s team to grow up. Planned changes to criteria for weapons exports were so watered down that they made no inroads into the trade. Cook’s professed “ethical dimension” to foreign policy was stillborn.
Downing Street had been heavily lobbied, but it needed no convincing. This is one area where the boardroom and the unions are in harmony, and one that does not change whatever the government. Britain is a market leader in fighter jets, electric batons, sub-machine guns and teargas. Why add to the jobless total for the sake of morals? If we don’t sell the kit someone else will.
The announcement, therefore, of a revoking of licences to Bahrain and Libya should be taken with a pinch of salt; I predict that British firms will be back at it as soon as the coast is clear.
The coalition government’s commendable, but limited improvements in civil liberties at home have not been replicated in foreign policy, which is brazenly mercantilist. Go forth and flog Britain’s wares is the message. The notorious Export Credits Guarantee Department, responsible for some of the most economically foolhardy and unethical business deals of the past 20 years, has been boosted. From arms sales to Saudi Arabia and Indonesia, to oil and gas pipelines in central Asia, to mega-dams in sub-Saharan Africa, the ECGD has backed projects that have been implicated in corruption, environmental destruction and human rights abuses.
At the weekend, the UK arms industry descended on Abu Dhabi for Idex, the region’s most important weapons fare. A tenth of all the global exhibitors are from Britain. Gerald Howarth, the minister leading the delegation, declared that “we have ambitious plans”.
The most unequivocal message since the election was made by Peter Luff, the defence equipment minister, who told a defence show in June: “There will be a very, very, very heavy ministerial commitment to arms sales. There is a sense that in the past we were rather embarrassed about exporting defence products. There is no such embarrassment in this government.”
Indeed there is not. The regimes currently using brute force to put down pro-democracy protests are all longstanding partners of the UK. As the Campaign Against the Arms Trade notes on Bahrain: in 2010, equipment approved for export included teargas and crowd control ammunition, equipment for the use of aircraft cannons, assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles and submachine guns. No requests for licences were refused.
Algeria, Egypt and Saudia Arabia have provided rich pickings for UK arms exporters. Of all the bilateral arrangements of recent years, perhaps the most despicable is the one with Libya. Colonel Gaddafi morphed from terrorist sympathiser to friend of the west, which then turned a blind eye to his internal repression. Libya is regarded as a priority partner, with the UK boasting the largest pavilion at the Libya’s arms fair.
CAAT figures show that in the third quarter of 2010, equipment approved for export to Libya included wall-and-door breaching projectile launchers, crowd control ammunition, small arms ammunition and teargas/irritant ammunition. No requests for licences were refused.
Earlier this month, the trade minister, Lord Green, announced that ministers will be “held accountable” if companies fail to secure deals and foreign investors favour Britain’s economic rivals. Beside him was business secretary, Vince Cable.
In opposition the Lib Dems were vocal about arms sales. In government they have grown silent. In January 2009, Nick Clegg wrote on these pages that Britain should stop supplying Israel following its bombardment of Gaza. He made a broader point: the UK should not supply weapons to countries involved in external aggression or internal repression. I have heard nothing significant from Clegg on the issue since he became deputy prime minister.
He may believe that if he spoke out, he might suffer a similar fate to Cook. There is too much riding on an industry that abets authoritarian regimes, while providing rich profits for UK firms and jobs. In the current economic climate, who would stand in their way?
18 Feb 2011 | Uncategorized
by Emily Badger
When CBS News announced earlier this week that chief foreign correspondent Lara Logan had been hospitalised for a brutal sexual assault in Egypt’s Tahrir Square last Friday, journalists across the nightly news and blogosphere were appalled. Some also expressed the faint hope the news might help remove the stigma female journalists face in acknowledging such encounters. An even bigger shock, though, came the next day, as left-leaning journalist Nir Rosen tweeted the reaction that he quickly came to regret.
“lara logan had to outdo anderson. where was her buddy mccrystal?” Rosen tweeted, referring to CNN broadcaster Anderson Cooper’s report that he’d been punched in the face in Cairo two weeks ago. Logan had earlier criticised a controversial Rolling Stone profile of General Stanley McChrystal, who was later relieved by President Obama for his own intemperate remarks.
Then, Rosen added:
“jesus christ, at a moment when she is going to become a martyr and glorified we should at least remember her role as a major war monger.”
He later took down the tweets – but not before some conservative news sites snapped screen shots of them for posterity. “I thought, it’s just silly social media,” a chastened Rosen told media blog FishbowlDC, by which time it already was too late. New York University announced that Rosen would resign as a fellow with the Center on Law and Security.
“Nir Rosen is always provocative, but he crossed the line yesterday with his comments about Lara Logan,” the programme’s executive director, Karen J. Greenberg, said in a statement. “I am deeply distressed by what he wrote about Ms. Logan and strongly denounce his comments. They were cruel and insensitive and completely unacceptable. Mr Rosen tells me that he misunderstood the severity of the attack on her in Cairo. He has apologised, withdrawn his remarks, and submitted his resignation as a fellow, which I have accepted. However, this in no way compensates for the harm his comments have inflicted. We are all horrified by what happened to Ms Logan, and our thoughts are with her during this difficult time.”
The Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg called Rosen’s history of incendiary comments “deeply pathetic.” Salon scolded: “Apparently he still hasn’t remembered that sexual assault isn’t great joking around material.” Mother Jones, to which Rosen has contributed, said he “completely lost his mind today and forgot that “joking” about rape falls into the category of NOT EVER FUNNY.” Cooper, for his part, confronted Rosen personally on his show on Wednesday night.
Rosen has now attempted to explain his position in an article for Salon. He described what he wrote as “a disgusting comment born from dark humour…developed working in places like Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, Yemen and Lebanon—and a need to provoke people.” He also pointed out the apparent double standards which allow “racist right-wing pundits (to) say whatever they want on serious platforms.”
16 Feb 2011 | Iran, Middle East and North Africa
As a tribute to Saneh Jaleh, who two days ago lost his life in the fight for freedom of expression, I have translated a short story written by him.
Saneh Jaleh, a 26-year-old theatre student at Tehran’s Arts University was killed by the regime’s forces during demonstrations on Monday 14 February. The protests had been in support of the people of Egypt and Tunisia, celebrating their freedom of expression and will. Iranian citizens in Tehran, Shiraz, Esfahan, Mashad, Kermanshah and Rasht bravely took to the streets for the first time in more than a year with the slogans “Tunisia, Egypt, Iran” and “Mubarak, Ben Ali, now Seyed Ali [Ayatollah Khamenei]”. As night fell the regime’s Basij and security forces attacked the peaceful protestors, with their callous tactics as the scene descended into one of familiar horror.
I leave you with Jaleh’s fictional short story The Bus, originally written in Persian (see bottom of page) and published in Azma magazine.
The Bus
by Saneh Jaleh
Beside the young man is an old man with a cigarette. The third drag of the cigarette is over and the young man awaits the smoke. The old man lets the smoke out. The smoke enters the young man’s throat. He deliberately coughs gently but the old man doesn’t hear. The cigarette goes up and down and he flicks the ash on the floor of the bus, the young man’s eyes following the movements of the old man’s hand. The young man leaves the old man alone and stares out of the window.
The single seat has become free. It seems the lady sitting there had had second thoughts about the journey, or maybe she’s forgotten something, or maybe she could no longer stand the cigarette smoke. Either way, it’s the young man’s luck and he’s making the most of it, now two steps further from the smoke. He sits in the seat, glued to the window and feeling cold. His body relaxes into the seat and he closes his eyes. There’s a small smile on his lips, but it curls back the minute the sound of the engine is heard. His eyes are now open and he leans back normally.
He looks out of the window, following the slow, short steps of the lady. Her left hand is by her ear and she’s talking non-stop, not wanting to think about turning back or not turning back, but her happiness is complete in turning her gaze away from that place. He looks at the time. It’s exactly 2:35pm. Now to check the wallet. Only 50 Tomans. The taxi fare is exactly 50 Tomans. A smile. This smile reminds him of the old man’s smile and his own smile before getting on the bus. An old man whose appearance did not differ all that much from the old man on the bus but who spoke nothing of his conscience.
The bus is now in motion. The driver glances in the side-view mirrors and gently puts his foot on the accelerator. He watches the driver and the movement of his hand as he changes gear. The back of his head is more interesting. Thinning yellow hair that goes from the back of his neck to below the middle of his head. Because he has no hair in front, the young man thinks: “Ah, a calm, bald, driver.” The bus separates from the row of buses. The passengers look out of the window at the cement buildings at the crossroads, half yellow, half black. What a ridiculous colour scheme, they’re thinking to themselves. With that the bus stops. The driver quickly gets down. A few other free drivers join him as he releases the bonnet. They all look at the engine. The young man sees a number of heads bobbing up and down and occasionally to the side.
A familiar head emerges and opens the door, climbing back onto the bus. The young man can now see his face. He’s saying: “Dear passengers. The engine has cut. It won’t take long to fix. Of course we need to change one of the parts. This will only take half an hour, if you wait half an hour it will be fixed and we’ll get moving.” Laughter, or upset, or indifference are the traits he evokes in us. With half an hour to go, everyone quickly gets off to warm themselves with a hot tea or coffee. The old man draws a cigarette from his pack and calmly gets off the bus after everyone else. He’s probably thinking to himself that a cigarette in the cold air is more pleasurable, the young man thinks. He stays where he is, because he can’t be bothered, and because he has no money. He only pulls up the zipper of his jacket and stares out of the front windscreen of the bus. His eyes narrow, focusing on something that links to a bad feeling.
He chooses to revisit the story anew. He looks at his watch. The time is exactly 2:35pm. He says softly, the story will end in 25 minutes.
It was 1pm. He set off for the terminal in search of a friend or acquaintance. He only had 50 Tomans. That’s why he was looking for his friends. He needed at least 450 Tomans for the hire. He searched everyone he saw but could not see a friend among them. Having searched the whole terminal he could no longer bear to stand. Desolate, he sat in a chair at the far end of the terminal alongside the road, saying: “It’s better this way.” He stared at his shoes and stretched out his legs. His hands lay on his knees, just as something unexpected happens. Unbelievably, there is a 500 Toman note at his feet. He wants to believe it. The man’s heart begins to beat for a moment, but then more desolate than ever, he says to himself: “It’s better this way.” Hopeless he says: “Yes sir, go ahead.” The man replies: “You’ve dropped your money.” With a smile the young man says: “Where? Oh here it is, I found it.” “Thank you very much madam.” “You’re welcome.” And he hears the footsteps of a woman gradually fading. She is making her way to the buses. As she approaches she reaches into her bag and pulls out a ticket and presents it. As she gets on the bus, she disappears from the young man’s view. She’s probably sitting on the other side, he says to himself.
He puts the money in his wallet, uncomfortable but happy. Looking at the wallet in his hand he remembers the 1000 Toman notes he’d had. He asks himself: Was the old man telling the truth? He tells himself that it has nothing to do with him, that he fulfilled his duty. He recalls the old man’s smile, smiling. He checks the time. It’s 2pm. He wants to review last night’s events again. He gets up and goes into the bus terminal, finding a comfortable chair. It’s exactly five past two in the afternoon. The adventure will end in precisely 25 minutes, he says to himself softly.
It’s dark. Exactly 8pm. He dresses carefully, as always doing up the zipper on his jacket. He wipes his shoes with a hanky and calmly puts them on. He opens the door to leave, quietly closing it behind him. His nightly ritual of roaming the streets for one hour begins. It’s cold outside. He walks softly. He looks at others, but is lost in his own thoughts. The street is empty. A cold wind hits him. He loses himself in thought, like every other night. He doesn’t notice an old man joining him on one side. Maybe because he wasn’t expecting him. But the old man makes his presence felt. Before that there had been noone else on the street. With anxiety and disquiet he hurriedly says “My son, my son…my son has had an accident.” The young man hears only this sentence and stares at a folder and piece of paper that the old man is holding. On it is written: Urgent request for Blood group O. He looks back at the old man. It seems he has stopped talking. Realising this, the young man says “How can I help?”. The old man replies “I need 2,700 Tomans; the man with blood group O has said he won’t give any blood until he receives all the money.” Without hesitation, the young man reaches into his pocket. He hands over three 1000 Toman notes. The old man smiles brightly, saying “My son, I am indebted to you. Give me your number or address, or take my identity card.” He says the last sentence more slowly. But the young man has distanced himself from the old man and is once again walking soflty. Thirty, forty steps away, it occurs to him that the old man may not be telling the truth. He decides it has nothing to do with him, that he has done his duty.
He looks at the time. It is exactly 2:35pm. The bus is filling up. He walks towards it. There is only one free seat, next to an old man. The single seat opposite is occupied by a lady.
He looks at the time again now. It’s exactly 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The door opens and the passengers one by one return to their seats. The driver is seated behind the wheel. He puts his foot on the accelerator harder this time. the engine roars. The bus sets off with greater speed. The young man stares at the cement buildings, blocks of half yellow, half black. What a ridiculous colour scheme, he thinks to himself. Just then he sees a young man at the crossroads, walking slowly, head down; he may look for something, or he may not. With the end of that sentence, he closes his eyes.
The Bus by Saneh Jaleh
