Nonviolence and Power in Egypt

What I am hearing and reading about is the definite spreading of a new awareness: that people are not helpless in the face of repression, that the seemingly all-powerful dictatorships in the region—against whom struggle was perceived as futile—are actually not so powerful when faced with the real power of ordinary people, and that bringing about massive change is not predicated on the use of military power by a foreign government. It can happen organically, self-reliantly, and nonviolently, and also, importantly, with less casualties than a protracted guerrilla struggle or terrorism.

This is what Jamila Raqib, the executive director of the Albert Einstein Institution, had to say about the subject. See more here.

This got me thinking. There has been a lot written about the recent protests in Egypt (as well as Tunisia and other places), but I would like to focus on the nonviolent aspect of the protests, and what power they hold. This recent wave of protests has been marked by a trend of distinct non violence that (I think) marks a turning point in history - not only for the idea of "revolution" but also the idea of where power lies. If people around the world can truly believe that within their hands they hold enough power collectively to do what is best for their country and the world, I think we will see a shift in the power structure towards more entities that better follow the people's will. That does not necessarily mean democracy, or at least what we conceive of as a democracy, but any system in which the people can have access to the things they need and under which they are not suppress or discriminated against.

This change in the way power is viewed does not result independently from these actions, more that these protests show that the idea of power in the world today has the potential to change. Ideas and overarching and complicated as power do not change over night, but I think that people will increasingly realize that power is abstract - it can be created and destroyed - and eventually with the power a dedicated group of people hold things can be changed. This idea could also infiltrate the workings of politics on an international scale, so that people can have both a duty to their country and to their world. Common Wealth says that in an ever connected age it is becoming more and more important to band together as a world to combat problems that affect us all. If power was viewed as a more encompassing entity then we would have more reason to act. And if this idea does change, if people around the world do believe that whatever their condition they have the power to band together, without violence or war, and make a difference, then we will truly begin to see peaceful change for the better of all.

Model United Nations

This weekend I made the trek to the Palmer House Hilton where once every year The University of Chicago holds a Model United Nations Conference. I have gone for the past few years and each year my experience has been different. This year I went as a delegate from The Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela (fondly named BRO Venezuela) to the World Health Organization. This year the greatest thing I took away from Model UN was surprise that anything substantial is able to come out of the real United Nations. The idea that almost 200 delegations can debate effectively, one at a time, and reach a resolution that is coherent, efficient, and expedient is almost laughable. The way these sessions are set up means that there is either a set sequence of speakers, or, speakers are called on one at a time by the chair, who runs the debate. In a committee as large as the WHO this means that many points get lost in the sheer weight of the amount of speakers and quite a few questions go unanswered. The real work - compromise between parties and the writing of resolutions - came during the unmoderated caucuses where delegations would converse freely and without the encumbrance of the United Nations formalities.

In the past I have been in much smaller groups (including the African Union), and at least in these more integrated groups we could have a working conversation. It is interesting to note however, that the number of countries in the world has continued to increase in the past few decades, so the number of delegations in these committees (model or real) will only increase. So what can be done? I think it may be time to really evaluate what would best serve the world, not only fundamentally but structurally in the United Nations. Although to even discuss this kind of thing in the UN today would be long-winded. In a place where everyone's voice must be heard (after all I do not wish to change that), I think a good think about how everyone can be most effectively heard is warranted. Then, the real work of making an idea that has been heard turn into an action that can be felt can start.

What do you think?

What's in (Southern Sudan's) Name?

In Southern Sudan, from January 9th to 15th, a referendum was held to decide if Southern Sudan would secede from Northern Sudan. As of January 23, 2011, the preliminary results indicate that 98.8% of the voters voted for independence (votes per region). The result of the referendum will be declared, at the latest, on February 14, 2011. There were delays and problems in the preparations for the election, however, the elections went over with very few problems, and the African Union said that the referendum was "free, fair, and credible". This referendum comes after years of war between the north and the south. They gained independence from Great Britain and Egypt in 1956. A civil war began even before they gained full independence and lasted from 1955-1972, and a the second civil war began in 1983 and finally ended in 2005 with a peace agreement that promised this referendum. Over 2 million people have died in this conflict. Beyond the history lesson though, when Southern Sudan secedes (if everything goes as expected) they will face the question: What do we call ourselves now?

The name Sudan originally comes from the Arabic phrase bilad al-sudan (land of the blacks) which was used to describe Sub-Saharan Africa. So, the name Sudan does not have historical significance to the people of Southern Sudan any more than Native Americans have an affinity to the label 'Indian'. However, the Southern Sudanese people have grown up and struggled under the name of Sudan, they have developed an identity of the Sudanese people so to give that name up may be to forget all the struggle it took to finally gain independence. In the Sudan Tribune there have already been many articles about the possibilities of new names and arguments to keep the name Sudan. The leading contenders right now are South Sudan and The Nile Republic, as well as some other more creative and strange ideas (like Wunjubacel - a name made up of the first letter of the 10 southern Sudanese state names plus Abeyi, Nuba Moutains, and Blue Nile). Find arguments for South Sudan here, The Nile Republic here, and Wunjubacel here. Both the article for Southern Sudan and the article for The Nile Republic make valid points about each name. The name Southern Sudan helps the history of the country and the struggle towards independence apparent, and honors those that have perished to fight for it. While the name The Nile Republic gives the region its own separate identity and allows them to move forward. The Democratic Republic of the Congo (previously Zaire and the Belgian Congo) have had many names and with each one came different baggage. The name was changed to Zaire in 1965 partly in order to move past the dark ages of the Belgian Congo. However, under the name of the Congo the Congolese had developed their own identity, grown as a country, and in Zaire they found themselves living in a home that felt very different to the one that they remembered. I am not saying that if the South does secede they will be governed like President Mobutu governed Zaire, but I think it is an interesting parallel to draw. To what extent does what we call our home change us?

Beyond that, I think that Southern Sudan should decide on a name that is best for their future. Moving forward however, should be done while remembering the past. So, when they do decide what they will call themselves, be it Southern Sudan or the Nile Republic (or anything else for that matter), they should choose a name that represents them as a people - united, strong, and hopeful.

What do you think?

Mountains Beyond Mountains

Dr. Paul Farmer

Recently I finished the book Mountains Beyond Mountains, written by Tracy Kidder. The book follows Dr. Paul Farmer, an infectious disease specialist who truly cares about every human beings welfare and has devoted his life to making healthcare available to those who do not have it. The book is touching and thought provoking and will leave you with a sense of uneasiness that comes with the knowledge that so many people suffer unnecessarily in the world and wonder at the ultimate kindness of the people that are trying to stop the tide of suffering. It would have been easy to portray Dr. Farmer as someone who is beyond human, but Kidder does an excellent job at keeping Farmer both real in your mind and showing the amazing things he has done. With that juxtaposition the acts seem both closer so that the reader can help as well, but they keep their mythic appeal because they are, in reality, fantastic. Dr. Farmer is not only a doctor, he and his organization Partners in Health have developed an organization that not only provides healthcare but fights for the rights of the poor locally and globally, and attempts to provide every opportunity they can for those they encounter. I am interested in medicine and public health so that aspect of the book was interesting to me but I think that the other themes are prevalent enough for anyone to enjoy the read.

An issue throughout the book that Dr. Farmer fights with is the issue of "cost-efficacy" of healthcare. When dealing with a small amount of funds and a large amount of sick people, what are you supposed to do? Throughout the book Farmer takes the stand that no one should be turned away because medicine that can cure them is too expensive. I wish that this could always be the case but this issue is very important currently because that is not always possible. It is abhorrent that medical care that can save someones life must be denied because that money could save others more cheaply. I think though that although it is not a happy subject it deserves at least some thought because closing our eyes and pretending it doesn't exist will not make the problem of inefficient funds for healthcare go away. PRI's the World did a thoughtful series on the subject a few weeks back, where they examined both sides of the argument, and I think it is worth listening to. I think it may be one argument that does not have a right answer. The thought you should come out of Mountains Beyond Mountains thinking (or at least the one I did) is that the fact that rationing healthcare does happen, and may be necessary in certain situations today, but that as human beings we should do what we can to make it so that it is not necessary. To work towards the same ends as Dr. Paul Farmer and make it so that no one dies from a curable cause because their cure was too expensive.

Why Literature?

Why do we read literature?

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I am currently reading Reading Lolita in Tehran and a question Azar Nafisi addresses in the book is the question: what does literature offer us? Throughout the book she extols the power of literature mainly as the ability to offer empathy, both to train you to empathize and to understand the world and issues through different lenses. She writes,

A novel...is the sensual experience of another world. If you don't enter that world, hold your breath with the characters and become involved in their destiny, you won't be able to empathize, and empathy is at the heart of the novel. This is how you read a novel: you inhale the experience.

So, is that why we read literature, and should it be the only vessel we have to understand the experiences of someone else; not only the writer but the oppressed when reading Invitation to a Beheading or the American Dream when reading The Great Gatsby? And what should we do when confronted with conflicting ideas of what is reality as perceived by two different sources?

An article written by the Washington Post called Sorry, Wrong Chador examines Iranian views of Reading Lolita in Tehran (the few that have had the ability to read it). Many do not agree with Nafisi's take, or think that it deserves updating. It is a powerful book, no one argues that, but if the basic facts are not universal, or even widespread, what do we take from it? There is a endless call for the 'right' story, so how do we choose?

It seems to me though, that more than one story can be correct. Throughout Reading Lolita in Tehran, and many of the books they read, there is a sense that somehow fiction and reality have combined to make something that is true in meaning but perhaps not exactly true in happening. An event, seen from four different sides does not have a right story, it has many different perceived stories. So, the power of literature comes from the ability to communicate those stories, together or separately, and the power for us to understand them. But in order to avoid a story that is one sided, we must take other stories into account, and remember that the true power of literature comes from the words and meanings embedded in them, so that perhaps a spoken version is just as powerful.

We must remind ourselves that a word once spoken, or written, it cannot be taken back, only built upon.

Equality v. Inequality

Yesterday I was reading Muslimah Media Watch (a blog dedicated to keeping track of how Muslim women are portrayed in the media with more than 20 contributors) and in this blog post Krista made a distinction that I think deserves a lot more attention. She wrote in reference to Bill 94 (a bill currently proposed in the province of Quebec, Canada to ban the niqab in any place of public service):

One issue that came up...was the difference between formal equality (everyone being treated in exactly the same way) and substantive equality (a more equity-focused concept, in which it is recognized that identical treatment doesn’t necessarily have egalitarian results). The argument here is that, while Bill 94 claims to treat everyone equally by requiring all people to show their faces, the result will have disproportionately negative effects on women for whom showing their faces in certain situations is just not an option; Bill 94, in other words, represents formal equality but will result in substantive inequality.

So, what is equality? If Bill 94 is passed, and it will not be the first of it it's kind if it is. It will not have an effect on everyone. When it comes down to it, it will only have an effect, a negative effect, on the small sect of the population that wears the niqab. That is, both mathematically and morally, the bill is unequal. If every single person wore the niqab, and it was banned, only then would this bill be substantively equal. However, only then would there be more of an outcry, if only because there would be numbers behind the plea.

This episode begs the question, can the government make every law they pass equal in its effects? Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. teaches us that it cannot. If everyone is brought down to the same level, we could be all equal (and affected equally by every law), but then the beauty of the human race would be lost. People are born unequal. That is how the world works.

However, coming back to Bill 94, how close can we get to equality before we cross over the line and make the world more unequal, even if it is only for a select few? Considering the differences between ' formal equally' (in its most extreme version in Harrison Bergeron) and 'substantive equality' must be a requirement. Equality is a word that is thrown around a lot, but true equality would be the kind where everyone was affected the same way. Those who proposed Bill 94 do not (I hope) have any hatred for people who wear that niqab, but I think policy makers have to be aware that they can easily be pulled into the recent wave of Islamaphobia and to remember that fear does not give grounds to effectively deny any human being their rights. I do not wear a niqab, and I do not know anyone personally who does, but still I am offended by this regression to inequality among people who live in the same neighborhood. I hope that the supporters of Bill 94, and other bills like it, stop to think about how to balance safety concern with equality.

A Conflict of Identity

I have recently been reading Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi and a large theme in the book is the ability of someone to have an identity, and to what extent that identity is influenced by those around us. In the book, Nafisi explains that the totalitarian regime of Iran controls so much of the lives of her students and the people she knows that they struggle to form their own identity separate from how they are defined by the government and the world they have created. On page 76, Nafisi writes:

Implicit in almost all their descriptions was the way they saw themselves in the context of an outside reality that prevented them from defining themselves clearly and separately… my girls spoke constantly of stolen kisses, films they had never seen and the wind they had never felt on their skin. This generation had no past. Their memory was of a half-articulated desire, something they had never had.

To what extent is our identity based on others in the first place? Psychology has many different answers to this question in the form of different theories, like Erik Erickson’s theory of development and James Marcia’s Identity Statuses (and of course many others). However, the many different parts of a person’s identity (social, political, sexual, religious, vocation identities) each depend on different factors, and some do depend on different people. I think, at least in some ways, other people do help define almost all areas of your identity. However, I think the difference in developing your identity with other people around you, and developing your identity in a country where your actions are controlled by someone else, is the freedom to choose. I have the ability to choose who I know and speak with, what I learn, read, and how I act (up to a certain extreme), but the girls in Nafisi’s Iran do not have that choice. Their every public action is controlled by what other people think they should be, so they cannot act out things the way they want to, and they cannot discover themselves through their decisions. So they are caught in this in-between place where they know what they are not, but do not know what they are. They are caught in this prison, this conflict of identity, and I really do not know how they will escape it. It is a tragedy that people are caught in this kind of situation, and that once they are caught it is very hard to escape.
What do you think?