Month: February 2009

The film is based on the Columbian author Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s novel. Fernando Luján plays the colonel.

By Colin Murphy

Morocco won control of half of the former Spanish Sahara 33 years ago, and later annexed the rest. Several generations of Saharawis have continued a struggle to be independent, and free of the Moroccan colonial powers. It has cost them everything, but they are not prepared to give up or give in.

Hassan was walking through town one afternoon, killing time, when he bumped into a friend near the football stadium, who said “I’ve got some spray paint.” They agreed to meet later that night, by the bakery.
They met at 12, and walked a short way into a residential quarter. At one end of a long, narrow street, they started spraying in black and red paint. “Down with colonial occupation” and “Viva Polisario”, they wrote, in letters 70cm high. They worked quickly but carefully; they wanted their work to be legible, not artistic. They covered 100 metres of the street with slogans, and by ten past twelve they had finished. On a high, they celebrated with a coffee in the nearby Café Alaska.
That was in May 2007. In October Hassan found himself in a cell in the police station, naked, watching another man being raped with a bottle, by police. He was told that if he didn’t confess, the same would be done to him. He confessed to a crime he says he knew nothing about, the torching of a police car. Later, when he was presented to the chief of police, he refused to repeat his confession, and was taken back to the cells. This time, he was given the faroj or “roast chicken” (a form of torture well-known in the region, he says). He was put in a foetal position with his feet bound and his arms bound around his legs. Then a pole was pushed through behind his knees, and lifted so that he swung from it, upside down, like a chicken on a spit. For three days he was tortured, beaten and insulted, though his interrogators took care not to scar him. He was shown photos of the graffiti and made to write out the same slogans on paper, so that his writing could be compared.
Brought to trial, he entered the courtroom making the victory sign and shouting “No place for colonial justice!” He threatened to go on hunger strike. The judge replied: “You can suffocate yourself if you want; it won’t do you any good.” He was found guilty on the charge of torching the police car and sentenced to 10 months, which he completed in August.
“I’m sure, after your departure, I’ll be arrested again,” he says, and smiles. There is a twinkle in his eye.
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By Benedict Carey

They’re considered a release, a psychological tonic, and to many a glimpse of something deeper: the heart’s own sign language, emotional perspiration from the well of common humanity.
Tears lubricate love songs and love, weddings and funerals, public rituals and private pain, and perhaps no scientific study can capture their many meanings.
“I cry when I’m happy, I cry when I’m sad, I may cry when I’m sharing something that’s of great significance to me,” said Nancy Reiley, 62, who works at a women’s shelter in Tampa, Fla., “and for some reason I sometimes will cry when I’m in a public speaking situation.
“It has nothing to do with feeling sad or vulnerable. There’s no reason I can think of why it happens, but it does.”
Now, some researchers say that the common psychological wisdom about crying — crying as a healthy catharsis — is incomplete and misleading. Having a “good cry” can and usually does allow people to recover some mental balance after a loss. But not always and not for everyone, argues a review article in the current issue of the journal Current Directions in Psychological Science. Placing such high expectation on a tearful breakdown most likely sets some people up for emotional confusion afterward.
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By Salil Tripathi

It was only a matter of time before someone in India rained – or dumped garbage — on the parade of Danny Boyle’s film, Slumdog Millionaire, the entertaining rags-to-riches story of a boy from a slum getting the girl of his dreams after undergoing life-changing, harsh experiences. Everyone expects the film to win big at BAFTA, and later this month, at the Oscars. But the mood in India is sour.
Amitabh Bachchan, Bollywood’s greatest star (who is actually part of the plot, as the answer to the hero Jamal’s first question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire), was the first to complain, saying that the film showed India as ‘a dirty under belly third world country (sic)’ when poverty exists even in wealthy cities.
He wrote this on his ponderous blog, bigb.bigadda.com. Since then he clarified that he was only repeating what others had told him, but the damage was done.
When the film was released in India, some theatres were attacked, its posters defaced, and in some cities, cinema halls required police protection. Lawsuits have been filed against the film. Driven by the wounded pride of nationalism, class, and religion, groups have been attacking the first India-themed film since Sir Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi with a realistic chance of sweeping major international awards.
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By A. Sivanandan

“Below we reproduce the speech by the IRR’s director, A. Sivanandan, at the IRR’s fiftieth celebration conference on 1 November 2008.”

History tells us where we came from and where we are at. But it also should tell us where we should be going. I’d like, therefore, to look at past struggles to see what resonances they have for us in today’s society.
The Institute battle was won on the basis of a simple principle – that an Institute of Race Relations should not serve the cause of racism by collaborating with the racist policies of government whether abroad (in Smith’s Rhodesia) or at home (in the immigration acts). And it was principle, not ideology or dogma, that guided the work of the new Institute – and political criteria, not political line, that saved it from pragmatism. The criteria themselves arose from the problem we were addressing; and the problem, quite simply, was not race relations or racial attitudes but racism and, especially, the racism of the state. We were not grand enough, though, to be Establishment (which we had just left anyway) nor pretentious enough to be grassroots. But there was a plethora of grassroots, community movements at the time (unlike now, alas) that we could serve. If we could not be at the barricades in the fight for racial justice, we could, at least, be servitors in that cause. We could do research that spoke to the issues and problems confronting Black communities. We could be a servicing station. We could put gas in the tanks of Black and Third World peoples on their way to liberation. That, in any case, was our pious hope. Whether we succeeded or not I do not know. But what I do know, and I say it without any false modesty, is that we are today the only radical think tank in this country on questions of racism and imperialism.
Our task was twofold. First, to debunk the myths and stereotypes that masked the problem of racism and its causes, and tell it like it is. As we must do again today in relation to the myths regarding refugees, asylum seekers, Islam, the war in Iraq, Palestine and so forth.
Second, to do in-depth analysis of the problems of Black people (as opposed to Black people as a problem) and therein find suggestions for a course of action. Action research as opposed to policy research – thinking in order to do, not thinking in order to think – thinking and doing being part of the same continuum.
Myths and stereotypes reinforce each other. The myth sets out the story, the stereotype fits in the characters. It was said, for instance, that the post-war “influx” of West Indian and Asian immigrants to this country was due to “push-and-pull” factors. Poverty pushed us out of out countries, and prosperity pulled us into Britain. Hence the stereotype that we were lazy, feckless people who were on the make. But what wasn’t said was that it was colonialism that both impoverished us and enriched Britain. So that when, after the war, Britain needed all the labour it could lay its hands on for the reconstruction of a war-damaged economy, it turned to the reserves of labour that it had piled up in the colonies. That’s why it passed the Nationality Act of 1948 making us colonials British nationals. (Equally, when, after 1962, it did not need that labour, it brought in a series of restrictive and racist immigration acts.) Quite simply we came to Britain (and not to Germany for instance) because we were occupied by Britain. Colonialism and immigration are part of the same continuum – we are here because you were there.
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By Asif Farrukhi And Sehba Sarwar
You ask her about work in progress and if there are any books in the press these days and she will name three. This is Kishwar Naheed, poet, writer, social activist, translator, editor, an important presence on the literary scene and generally busy on the social scene. The author of several books of poetry, including a hefty volume of collected poems, a new collection of her poetry entitled Wehshat aur Barood Main Lipti Hui Shairi will be out soon. The dialogue of Sartre and de Beauvoir is being reprinted with some additions, and also Qalam Bardashta, the third collection of her columns, which she writes regularly for the newspaper on social issues.

Surrounded by the handiwork of skillful women from across the country, we are sitting in her office at Islamabad, and in between last-minute arrangements for function to be held the next day, instructions to workers, visitors and many other such distractions we manage to talk books and writings.

Known as a voracious reader, Kishwar Naheed likes to keep abreast of the latest developments here and abroad. When asked about what she is reading, she gives an unexpected answer: ‘I am spending most of my time in proofreading,’ and explains that she is putting the finishing touches to the annual report for her organisation. ‘I have just edited the special issue of the Pakistan Academy of Letters’ journal, Adabiyat on Ahmed Faraz. This is a tribute to a good friend and an important poet.’

Oxford University Press, Pakistan is bringing out the English translation of her autobiography, Buri Aurat Ki Katha. It took a lot of effort but finally Durdana Somroo managed to produce an English equivalent of her expression in Urdu. A volume of her selected poems was published a few years ago and so many of her poems have been translated and included in syllabi in many countries that she has lost count.

She has no fixed working habits. ‘I write whenever I get time,’ she says picking up a sheet of paper with an unfinished column from her desk. ‘This comes from working in an office and running a household at the same time. I have learnt to pick up the connection from the point where I have to leave. It is stored in the mind now and I can get it on paper in no time,’ she says showing me the beginnings of a poem written on the back of a letter. ‘I have now completed this poem,’ she informs me as we move on to other topics.

Kishwar Naheed prefaces her comments on the literary scene with an interesting example. ‘In 2008, I received 324 books of poetry from the Pakistan Academy of Letters as I was a judge for a poetry prize. 90 per cent of these books were self-published by the poets. This trend is now at its peak. Just as there are more than 50 media channels, there must be an equal number of such publishers. Nowadays, publishers take the printing costs from the author and then publish the book. Even some of the bigger publishers are doing this. Civil servants and their like started this trend. Then there are those books which bear the name of a girl and are filled with raw emotionalism,’ she says clearly expressing her dissatisfaction with trends she does not like.

‘There are some things which appear very ordinary when you say them in Urdu, but when the same is written in English the writers suddenly acquire the status of world- class writers. All of these young writers who were children growing up before our eyes, talk to their parents and write down the stories they have heard, emphasising our apathy and cultural backwardness as their publishers demand such descriptions,’ she explains what she regards as a new recipe for international success.

‘Those who are doing good work are ignored by the western press. They did not pick Intizar Husain’s Basti as an important novel. Abdullah Hussain could not get this kind of attention in the West. Those who write a little get instant fame and recognition in English but you go on writing all your life in Urdu and nobody gets to hear about you,’ she says. ‘For translations into English, they like the sensational stuff and this is what gets publish. Wasn’t Nirmal Verma a far better writer than V.S. Naipaul? But he was not given the same kind of recognition,’ she quotes an example to complete her argument.
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Sun: You’ve talked a lot about the failure of democracy, and you differentiate that very sharply from the failure of states. I’m interested in how you define this failure of democracy and its significance.
AK: The failure of democracy? Well, I think what we’re seeing in a number of countries is situations where the political process has moved forward and you have parliaments in place which are based on electoral processes that are more or less, often less, sound than one would want. You find governments which are not relating to parliament in a structured and creative way. You find parliaments where the quality of human resources is not what it might be. You find constitutions which are extremely difficult to interpret in practice, and where heads of state or heads of government consider it necessary to change these constitutions. And the nature of change itself is a problem.
So I think we’re going to go through a long period of search for new democratic formats in the developing world. I often give the example of Uganda with three monarchies. You say to yourself, how does a country remain a republic with three monarchies which it wants to recognize?
You have other countries where the level of authority of the provinces versus the centre becomes a major issue, and where the provinces have sought powers which the centre probably should have and doesn’t have. So you get the centrifugal forces in these countries in a sense making central national thinking extremely difficult to implement.
You get the difficulty in changing legislation. Many of these countries have inherited colonial legislation in one area or the other – particularly in, for example, education, economic institutions etc. They find it difficult to change that legislation.
Very often the background to that legislation is an attempt to control rather than to empower. So instead of the legislation coming into the public domain with the goal of enabling change, it’s actually very often drafted on the premise of control and centralization.
So I think that we are going to be seeing a large number of situation – you can think of Afghanistan, you can think of Kenya, you can think of Uganda, Eastern Europe, you see these situations all over the world. And I think it will require a lot of patience and wisdom and care to develop systems that are going to work, which do represent a consultative process which we all consider equitable and solid and good, that allow the processes of change in government to occur in an organized way, but that at the same time don’t create a situation where there is tremendous volatility all the time in the environment.
Because one of the problems is volatility in the environment in which institutions are trying to develop. That’s why yesterday, for example, I referred to the role of civil society, because civil society goes through government change. It’s not affected by these political processes.
I’m not challenging in any way the notion that these political processes are necessary. I’m simply saying I think it is important that the world look at these processes for what they are. They are difficult. They are complex. There is no historical record that you can refer to in many of these countries.
You have national forces which sometimes will play for or against regional arrangements. And these regional arrangements are becoming very, very important, because in our world there are very few micro-states that survive well. OK, you can refer to Singapore, you can refer to Hong Kong. But they’re the exception rather than the rule.
Therefore these small states need to come together so that they can insert themselves in a wider marketplace, etc.
So that’s really what I mean by the fragility of democracy.
Sun: I’m not sure how close the parallel is with a failed market economy and a failed democracy, but I think there is some overlap. And I think in a sense it’s the failure of a faux market economy and perhaps, in some cases, a failure of a faux democracy – that there was the vigorous election, which is that great trapping of a democracy, but there weren’t all of the checks and balances and messy little mechanisms that actually make it work.
AK: Without any doubt, without any doubt.
And I think the relationship between democracy and resources is a very sensitive one in the developing world. Even in the industrialized world it’s sensitive, but in the third world it’s even more sensitive – who is using what resources to achieve what goal?
And if elections take place and the outcome is not what people expect or like, suddenly there’s an issue – has democracy shown up the best? Well, that’s up to the population to decide. You can’t challenge that.
So these are situations which we’re learning about.
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(Submitted by Aziz Ali)

See it here

By MARI YAMAGUCHI, Associated Press Writer
TOKYO – In Japan, “What’s your type?” is much more than small talk; it can be a paramount question in everything from matchmaking to getting a job.
By type, the Japanese mean blood type, and no amount of scientific debunking can kill a widely held notion that blood tells all.
In the year just ended, four of Japan’s top 10 best-sellers were about how blood type determines personality, according to Japan’s largest book distributor, Tohan Co. The books’ publisher, Bungeisha, says the series — one each for types B, O, A, and AB — has combined sales of well over 5 million copies.
Taku Kabeya, chief editor at Bungeisha, thinks the appeal comes from having one’s self-image confirmed; readers discover the definition of their blood type and “It’s like ‘Yes, that’s me!'”
As defined by the books, type As are sensitive perfectionists but overanxious; Type Bs are cheerful but eccentric and selfish; Os are curious, generous but stubborn; and ABs are arty but mysterious and unpredictable.
All that may sound like a horoscope, but the public doesn’t seem to care.
Even Prime Minister Taro Aso seems to consider it important enough to reveal in his official profile on the Web. He’s an A. His rival, opposition leader Ichiro Ozawa, is a B.
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“Ms. readers get results:
A number of companies have removed offensive ads in response to your feedback. Keep writing and calling the offending advertisers at the contact information listed.”

Priyanka Chopra, Neha Dhupia and Saif Ali Khan in Ponds ad:

Have you seen an objectionable ad? Send it to:
No Comment, Ms., 433 S. Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills, CA 90012. Include the entire page on which the ad appeared, date and name of publication, and your name and address.
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