Half-baked rules that take the biscuit

 
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By Christian Nielsen

Half-baked rules about homemade biscuits say a lot about the sort of society we live in and undermine community spirit. 

Friday 25 January 2013

Good-will gesture for firies sparks up home-baked brouhaha’ is the title of a recent story in The Age, an Australian daily. It’s tough for non-natives to understand, or hell anyone outside Australia, but basically it means that the townspeople responded to the good work being done by fire-fighters during the recent bushfires by baking cakes, cookies and other goodies. It’s a tradition in rural communities to rally together, with everyone doing their bit to beat back devastating natural forces like fire, floods and cyclones.

But in this case, their effort … their home-baked goods were rejected on the grounds that they were not prepared in industrial kitchens. This is the ‘brouhaha’ part. Indeed, it caused a stink and the fire authorities were forced to apologise for being overly “officious”, as they put it, about the regulations and not allowing people to cook something at home to support the brave fire authorities.

In the end, the ladies of Bairnsdale, a town in the centre of the fire-affected part of south-east Victoria, were told they could deliver their goods to the cricket club where anyone could enjoy them, including the fire-fighters! ‘Ridiculous bureaucracy in life-and-death situations’ could have been an alternative newspaper title for this sad state of affairs.

You have to wonder how we got to this. So many people in Australia … the whole world … are overweight from over-indulging in cheap processed foods. Wouldn’t a home-made alternative be a welcome change? Apparently not. Regulations are regulations, after all.

The pioneering spirit of the ‘new’ world meant that people banded together in times of need. Minor as it may seem, every gesture, every bit helped. Thanksgiving in the United States, as far as I understand it, calls up this sort of sentiment. It’s all part of a patchwork of acts that holds people together – a common decency that we seem to see less and less of until a major disaster strikes and we realise that the institutions governing society are merely a construct.

Laws and regulations, governing bodies … all the intermediary players in a working democracy are there for a reason. I get that. I’m not an anarchist. But when these authorities, these itsy-bitsy rules get in the way of humanity, of communities finding themselves again, they are no longer serving citizens; they become self-serving.

Let’s hope Australia – any nanny-state under the illusion that ‘more rules is good rules’ – can learn a valuable lesson from the Bairnsdale bakers.

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The hair that binds

 
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By Christian Nielsen

Despite its bonding potential, a trip to the hairdresser’s can inflict trauma on soap-phobic pre-adolescent boys and their mullet-phobic fathers.

Friday 11 January 2013

I can think of three traditional male-bonding rituals between father and son: fishing trips, the first football match together and that birds and bees chat. Today, I am reminded of another … going to the hairdresser together.

I’m sitting in an over-lit salon on a white faux leather couch flicking through magazines with my eldest son in search of a hairstyle that doesn’t make him look more of a Muppet than he currently does. It’s not going well. He’s all attitude and insists he just wants the fringe out of eyes and may be less hair on the sides.

As someone raised in the 1970s and 1980s, I can see that instructing the hairdresser to do this will result in only one thing … the dreaded mullet. Remember Bono in the 1980s, Billy Ray Cyrus in the 90s and, for those familiar with Australian Rules Football, the 21st century incarnation of this fashion travesty Richmond player Ivan Maric.

Failure to face this challenge today in an adult way, failure to overcome the fear of making a scene will have serious consequences. It will scar the memory of this landmark father-son bonding moment. The pointed finger of shame will be cast in my direction for months (until the mullet grows out) as parents recognise my salon failure, my inability to instruct the hairdresser on the appropriate length and style for a nine-year-old boy.

As I mull over the perils of this decision, an executive-looking guy walks in with his preteen son and says with authority to the hairdresser, “Can I leave my boy here to wait for a cut … make it short for school but perhaps not too much off the fringe!” The hairdresser flutters agreement to this alpha male and he walks out of the salon, leaving the boy to finger his smart phone morosely while he waits his turn.

“You see how lucky you are?” I say to my boy whom I clearly think shouldn’t care how his hair looks. “Some dads just tell the hairdresser how to cut it and that’s it.” After months of badgering him about the state of his hair, my wife decided it was time that I stepped up and did what fathers do … problem is, I’m not really sure what they’re supposed to do in this situation.

Fishing trips aside, my dad was not the most hands-on in these matters. For example, the birds and bees thing was a memo delivered via my mum along the lines … “Get him some condoms and make sure he uses them!” My mum obliged but her timing was a bit off. I was 14 and still very much a virgin. The procured box of condoms was met with some bemusement at first but that gave way to amusement for my friends and I who found a good use for them as water bombs.

So, here I sit 30 years later with my own son and sometimes I possess barely an inkling of the requirements that this entails. Next to me is a man waiting equally as uncomfortably on this white sofa, enduring the top ten R&B tunes of today on a mounted TV and humming some incessant tune of his own. Second thoughts … it’s a tick and it’s really starting to wind me up.

Two hairdressers work on three women at various stages of what appears to be their Saturday wash-and-dry routine, while a chatty woman with a red nose waits her turn. Builders bring in materials for renovations and the red-nosed woman takes up position as traffic cop opening and closing the door each time they return with planks and boxes.

Meanwhile, my son has narrowed down his choice of hairdos to two possibilities. I struggle to hide my envy that he has a choice at all. Hair loss is cruel. I like both cuts, but one could really work with his hair, and although it is ‘fashionable’ it is also boyish, so perfect for his age!

I’ve got Time magazine’s people of the year edition open in front of me, but as interesting as Obama, Cook and co. may be, it’s impossible to concentrate. Inane nattering, R&B warbling, coiffed madams complaining, builders bantering … Human suffering gets a makeover in the salon.

Finally, it’s my boy’s turn. He approaches the spray-tanned stylist and shows her the page with the look he wants. She seems impressed. He sits and she pumps the seat to the right height.

Mullets now safely behind us, fresh concerns bubble to the surface. Will she go too far and turn my innocent boy into a Dorian dandy? What will his mother say when I walk him in with a new romantic flick that would put Spandau Ballet to shame?

I take a seat next to him and my panic is palpable. She starts at the back. He says, “Don’t let her cut too much off’, in Swedish (his mother is a Swede) so the girl doesn’t understand. But all my own fears of making a fuss come back to me. I get a flashback of the times I sat in the salon chair saying nothing as I see the next three months of my life being destroyed until the tragedy she is creating on my head grows out.

I tell him it looks great. I can tell he’s not convinced, but he can’t see what she’s doing so it’s still safe. Then she starts on the sides and front. Hair piles up on the floor. With every chunk jettisoned he winces. I can picture him starting to cry and embarrassing the hell out of me when she finishes.

Then it starts to take shape. My dread subsides momentarily. My boy smiles as the fringe is tidied up. I say it looks great and really mean it because it does. No mullet, no new romantic. We think it’s all over when she pulls out another pair of scissors and starts cutting it all again. I say cutting but it looks more my scraping as she distresses the ends … and me … with every pull.

Next comes the razor and I think this is where I have to say enough is enough, but I remember her being so pleased to be able to work on a proper hairstyle, from a book and all. I don’t have the heart to take this creative moment away from her. I sacrifice my child to her tepid career in a provincial salon. I close my eyes and pray that it will be over soon.

“Umm, do you want me to put gel in it?” I open my eyes and see that the creation is finished. “Gel?” she says slower and louder like young people do when speaking to the elderly. I look at my son, and he screws up his nose.

“No, I think it’s fine the way it is,” I say with a measure of exhaustion creeping into my voice. She brushes the hair off his face and back and removes the smock. He turns to me, catching himself in the mirror on the way, and I’m just waiting for that look which means “Daddy, I’ll never trust you again”.

It doesn’t come. Instead I get a broad smile and glint of pride. It’s a cool cut from a magazine but it still makes him look like a boy … a beautiful nine-year-old boy. The stylist is pleased with herself. The customer, my son, is pleased with himself. The father, me, is relieved as hell. We leave the salon and he takes my hand as we walk back to the car.

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Anzac Day and the birth of three nations

 
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By Ray O’Reill

Anzac Day, which recalls the horrors of modern warfare, marks the birth of modern national conscience in Australia, New Zealand and Turkey.  

Wednesday 25 April 2012

Death in the trenches

Every year, on 25 April, in services and commemorations, Australia and New Zealand remember the fallen in what is now called Anzac Day. On this day nearly a century ago, soldiers from both nations landed on the Gallipoli Peninsula in what is now called ANZAC Cove, but was then known as Ari Birun. As part of the Allied Forces, their mission was to scale the cliffs and take the high ground. The defending Turkish army had other ideas.

In the space of 24 hours, some 2,000 ‘diggers’, as they were known, were mowed down. By the end of the battle nine months later, more than 11,400 soldiers from the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (Anzacs) were killed – 2,700 Kiwis and the rest were Australians. This was a huge loss to nations with populations at the time of fewer than 5 million and 1 million respectively.

But it was the events of the first day of the Gallipoli Campaign (or Battle of Çanakkale), immortalised in the 1981 Peter Weir film of the same name, starring a young Mel Gibson, that set the course of the whole battle and eventual evacuation of the Anzacs in December 1915.

If you want to read more about these events, the book by David W Cameron, 25 April 1915, The Day the Anzac Legend Was Born, is a good place to begin, telling both sides of the story – the Anzacs  and Turkish – of what was to become a tragedy for all nations concerned but an ultimate triumph for Turkey and the then little-known army commander Mustafa Kemal (later given the honorific Atatürk, ‘Father of the Turks’) who had correctly anticipated where the Allies would attack and bravely held his position until their eventual retreat.

The legendary ‘victory’ cemented Atatürk’s reputation following the Ottoman defeat and, along with other military successes, enabled him to enter politics and construct a modern Turkish republic on the ruins of what was left of the Ottoman Empire. It also marked the birth of a separate national conscience in Australia and New Zealand, which were then dominions of the British Empire and largely regarded themselves as Brits.

Anzac Day is not only a rare example of a national day shared by two countries, it has also been woven into the conscience of a third, Turkey which, under Atatürk’s leadership, became a staunch ally of its former enemies, despite the cold-shouldering it has received from Europe over the decades. In 1934, he assured the first Australians and New Zealanders to visit the Galipoli battlefield since hostilities ended:

There is no difference between the Johnnies
And the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side…

He finished his tribute with:

Your sons are now lying in our bosom
And are in peace
After having lost their lives on this land they have
Become our sons as well.

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‘Redheads under the bed’ as a substitute for good reporting

 
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By Christian Nielsen

 A story that redhead sperm is not welcome at a Danish spermbank has gone global, reflecting how good reporting is being crowded out of the media by ‘incredible free content’.

Tuesday 20 September 2011

A Danish sperm bank, reportedly the largest ‘supplier’ in the world, has started turning down redheaded donors due to lack of demand for their sperm, according to UK daily The Telegraph last week. “There are too many redheads in relation to demand,” the sperm bank’s director was reported as saying by Danish newspaper Ekstra Bladet.

The Australian daily The Age chimed in with its follow-up under the homepage teaser: “Sperm bank bans ‘ranga’ deposits”. The article’s subtle chastisement of “Europe” – presumably because Denmark happens to be on that continent – for such discriminatory treatment of redheads is a joke in a country – call it Australasia since it’s in that region – where redheads are routinely ridiculed, as elsewhere. Surely, the title of the story gives Australia’s own prejudices away. “Ranga” is a derogatory term for redheads which (presumably) comes from ‘Orang Utan’ due to the ape’s famous reddish locks.

In a story I wrote about discrimination against redheads for The Chronikler last year (“Not so simply red“), I neglected to include this term as one of the many that redheads are unfairly saddled with. The Age seems to have corrected that omission for me.

Actually, the worldwide reporting of this Danish story is a typical example of how the media works nowadays. A local story which appears in Denmark on 13 August is retrofitted by a major UK paper, in this case The Telegraph, which in turn inspires another English-speaking daily, The Age, to do its own take on the story. But if you go back to the so-called source, Ekstra Bladet, you can see that it is attributing Newspaq as the source of the story and quotes.

Where is the reporting in that? Who’s checking facts? The bottom-line in today’s media underscores one irrefutable fact: real journalists and reporters are being crowded out by ‘incredible free content’. Reporting and news is being replaced by syndicated content, newswires, and ready-made PR material produced by the growing body of ‘communicators’ hired to get their employers into the news. It’s working. The facts have become secondary to what can only be called a ‘too-good-to-be-true’ easy story.   

 

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Scandinavia: is the far right far off?

 
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By Christian Nielsen

Home-grown terrorism in Norway, a resumption of border controls in Denmark and an increasingly immigration-weary Sweden. Is right-wing politics taking hold in the once-tolerant Nordic countries?

Thursday 4 August 2011

Following the calculated and murderous attack by Anders Behring Breivik last month, Norway now joins the ranks of England, Turkey, Israel, Ireland and the USA – places where home-grown terrorists have taken the lives of innocents.  On 22 July, Breivik detonated a powerful bomb in downtown Oslo and, dressed as a policeman, then went on a shooting spree on nearby Utøya island, killing some 70 mostly young people attending a political camp organised by the AUF, a youth organisation of the ruling Norwegian Labour Party (AP).             

Breivik appears to match the identikit photo of a new generation of home-grown terrorists: no criminal record, keeps a low profile, educated background … basically an ordinary-seeming guy, at least on the outside. But inside, we get a very different story. Inside, is a seething activist whose first and likely last act was aimed squarely at what he views as his government’s soft stance on immigration. Inside, he sees newcomers, with their poor or non-existent Norwegian and special (cultural) needs, as out of place, as interlopers in the ‘Christian Europe’ of yore.

Of course, Norway will wish to paint Breivik as a ‘lone wolf’, a mad ‘crusader’, declaring that his actions will only serve to strengthen democracy, openness and awareness. But the scariest thing about the 32-year-old is that he seems far from the crazed loon everyone perhaps wishes he were – so their comfortable lives could return to normal.

Psychologists and a bevy of experts will spend the coming months combing over his life and analysing his manifesto (all 1,518 pages of it) entitled ‘2083 – A European declaration of independence’ which  he published online shortly before his deadly acts. They will be looking for evidence of collaborators in the forums and fantasy-gamer sites he is reported to have frequented, such as ‘World of Warcraft’, and they will try to piece together his moves in the months to years he spent planning the attack.

The media will do its own investigations, helped by snippets of information leaked which paint a picture of an estranged, hurt figure – a sociopath of the highest order. They will dig into his past political associations, including a stint in the early 2000s with the Progress Party (FrP) and its youth wing, which he reportedly left as his views grew more extreme.  And they will scrutinise his writings and postings on such far-right sites as Document.no.  But what will this all achieve?

In the end, the extended analysis and media coverage may just give Breivik the ultimate forum he was clearly seeking, or else he would have turned the gun on himself (the final act of many who go on such killing sprees) as police finally cornered him.  He has committed the act and the media has done its part to get the message out, in vivid and graphic images, so instilling the real ‘terror’, the fear that it can happen again … anywhere.

And the impact is far wider than Norway. It leaves an indelible imprint on its neighbours who held a one-minute silence in sympathy after the attacks. Indeed, Scandinavians share a common language base and similar cultural, social and legal moorings. So, they are left thinking, ‘Are we next? Is that guy with the turned-up polo shirt and colourful knit acting strangely?’ Of course the fear is exaggerated, even nonsense, but this is how terror works.   

Far right or far wrong?

There is also going to be a lot of soul-searching and reflection (much like this dossier on Chronikler, it has to be said) on the far right and whether Breivik’s message may embolden marginalised political wings in countries spanning Europe, from the Lowlands, Britain and Germany to the likes of France, Italy, Greece and indeed the Nordic countries. 

Already, Danish politics leans to the right – in the Nordic sense of the right – on a number of issues, including immigration. The government’s decision in July to reintroduce border controls is seen by many as cowing to Danish populism.

 “The reintroduction of controls came as a result of an agreement between the minority conservative-liberal coalition in Copenhagen, and the far right Danish Peoples Party (DF),” noted the World Socialist Website (WSWS).  “DF has had significant influence over government policy for a decade, co-operating with the coalition to impose the strictest immigration regime within the EU. At the same time, it has used every available opportunity to whip up nationalist sentiment within Denmark.”

The Guardian newspaper weighed in on the topic: “Immigrants and their descendants make up about 10% of Denmark’s 5.5m population, and the number of residence permits granted rose by more than 50% between 2004 and 2009. Many believe the Danes have become steadily more opposed to immigration in recent years, reflected in the rise in [Danish Peoples Party] support.”

Denmark takes in comparatively fewer immigrants than its fellow Nordics, except Finland. According to 2010 statistics by the UN’s High Commission for Refugees, Sweden has taken in some 82,629 or around 8.81% of the Swedish population, which is one of the highest in the Western world. It is followed closely by Norway (40,260 or 8.24%). Denmark has taken in 17,922 or 3.23% of its population, with Finland just 8,724 (1.63%). That is from a total of around 15.4 million refugees worldwide.

Danish attitudes towards newcomers with Islamic backgrounds, in particular, haven’t been helped by the fatwa placed on the authors and publishers of a series of satirical cartoon in the Jyllands-Posten in 2005. A Somali man even tried to carry out the fatwa in 2010 and was tried on murder charges. As a side note, you could also argue that the 1989 fatwa on Salman Rushdie, the author of ‘The Satanic Verses’, marked a turning point for Euro-Islam relations leading to fundamentalism and violence. And now, 20 years on, Newton’s third law of motion – for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction – may have regrettably taken seed. Fundamentalism begets fundamentalism. Still, the laws of physics can and should be challenged!

(Read the German daily Spiegel Online’s editorial ‘The West is Choked by Fear’ concerning the fatwa and European Islamophobia.)

Though tolerant as a state – its institutions and statutes – the Danish people have demonstrated that their tolerance only goes so far when it comes to this sort of intimidation and interference in the ‘Danish way’. That attitudes towards foreigners have steadily hardened in the wake of this cartoon catastrophe is now difficult to dispute.

Sweden’s outliers …

Sweden, after a long affinity with left-leaning socialist governments, has undergone a political transition of its own.  In last year’s general parliamentary (Riksdag) election, Swedes narrowly voted in the Alliance (a mélange of Christian democrats, moderates, centrists and liberals) ahead of the centre-left Red-Greens made of up social democrats, lefts and greens. The Social Democrats have ruled Sweden for 65 of the past 78 years, and are credited with setting up the country’s generous welfare state.

But it was the rise of an anti-immigration nationalist party that has caught the attention of Europe. With 5.7% of the vote, or 20 seats, the Sweden Democrats (SD) entered parliament for the first time as the sixth largest and only non-aligned party of the eight elected to the Riksdag. This meant the Alliance lost its absolute majority but continued to govern as a minority government, which obviously affects the political milieu. 

A BBC reporter sums up this political wind shift in the wake of the September election:  “[The] success of the far right has shocked many voters in Sweden. Winning 20 seats in parliament, the Sweden Democrats have obviously touched a nerve […] The party appears to have tapped into voter dissatisfaction over immigration […] with the result undermining the image of Sweden as a tolerant and open-minded country.”

Sweden Democrats member for Varberg Erik Hellsborn wrote in his blog shortly after events in Norway, “Massakern är ett resultat av mångkulturen” (“The massacre is a result of multiculturalism.”), and he went on to say that the attack may be the worst atrocity Scandinavia has seen since World War II, but that it was not a bolt from the blue. He added: “Detta är vad mångkulturen gör, den skapar konflikter mellan människor, leder till hat, våld och en allmän brutalisering av samhället (“This is what multiculturalism is doing, it creates conflicts between people, leading to hatred, violence and general brutalisation of society.”). The party has distanced itself from Hellsborn and his remarks.

Cities and some smaller towns have seen major socio-cultural shifts in a single generation in the wake of a decades-long policy of ‘tolerance and openness’ to immigration, particularly refugees. But the quaint newcomers have proven to be disinclined or unable to fully integrate into Swedish life. The growing tendency for many immigrants to cluster in cities, such as Malmo in the south, is making it hard for Swedes not to use the ‘G’ word to describe their struggling assimilation strategy … ghettos!

I was in an ‘outlying’ part of southern Stockholm several weeks ago and waiting in a supermarket queue when an older man, who appeared to be from the Horn of Africa, approached the counter with his trolley. He had rudimentary Swedish and knew the basic cashier etiquette; put your items on the conveyor for scanning, check the total on the readout, etc. When he tried to pay with a card, something wasn’t working.

The young cashier asked him to check a detail on the card reader but this was outside the gentleman’s ‘routine’ – he didn’t understand. Instead of trying to explain in, say, English – which I learned that the cashier knew quite well – he kept telling the now flustered older man to do a series of steps to make the card work in a ‘DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS AGAIN!’ sort of volume and tone.

This little story perhaps only hints at the next generation’s unwillingness to abide by its parents’ and grandparents’ more left-leaning ‘softly, softly’ approach to people and politics. The X, Y and Me-generations probably have no beef with foreigners, per se, but equally they have no patience for polite acceptance and the sort of civil code that has underwritten Swedish society for nearly a century.

But does this truculence mean far right parties eschewing unpleasant policies towards foreigners will gain more power, become even more mainstream than they are now? And will we see manifestations in Sweden of Anders Breivik’s “counter-jihad” ideology? (Read the Svenska dagbladet article ‘Hatet käner inga gränser’ touching on this ideology and links with Denmark, Belgium, Austria and the UK).  Hard to say, on both counts. But I can say that the honeymoon for foreigners in Sweden appears to be ending.

Sweden used to be a monoculture of like-minded, racially similar and largely acquiescent or conformist people. Today, it is grappling to accommodate multiculturalism and to hold onto the moors of its once-famed and admired social system, which many (more) now perceive as no longer in everyone’s best interest. 

The risk under the current regime is that the rhetoric could change from the longstanding ‘we understand your problem’ to ‘shape up or ship out’. That hard line perhaps has a place in countries that started as multicultural hotpots, like Australia and the USA, but for countries with strong and largely uniform baseline traditions and cultural norms, such a radical change in tune could easily be interpreted as dancing to a far right melody.

The big question now is, will the Norway attack galvanise moderates and free thinkers in the region to oppose radical right wing ideology? Indeed, debate is now raging in Sweden on the future of SD, and whether its star can really continue to rise now that the sleepy masses have been roused out of their slumber.

So, the world is watching how Norway reacts to its new reality, its new world, and a few observers are keeping an eye on any political and perhaps social repercussions in the Nordic region, and beyond.

This article is part of a special Chronikler series on far-right extremism. Published here with the author’s consent. ©Christian Nielsen. All rights reserved.

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Where ‘no’ means jail time

 
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 Ray O’Reilly

Though Dubai may be the Middle East’s self-styled party capital,in the UAE, women who say they have been raped can find themselves behind bars for adultery.

Wednesday 15 June 2011

A Brisbane woman, Alicia Gali, is suing Australian embassy staff for failing to warn the 29-year-old that a complaint of rape in the United Arab Emirates could mean she ended up in jail for adultery of all things.

And that is exactly what happened. She was hauled off by police, held and eventually sentenced to 12 months in prison. She served eight months of that before being “pardoned” and released. Gali returned to Australia in March 2009 and, according to reports, has been trying to pick up the pieces of her life.

When informed of the incident in June 2008, the Australian embassy staff reportedly advised Gali to simply “reconsider her need to be in the country” and it was also suggested she not contact the media once it became apparent that making the complaint would land her in as much trouble as the rapists.

Gali has since criticised her employer, Le Meridien, for not being more clear that, without coroborating statements from four adult male witnesses to the crime, she could be charged with adultery and face prison if she filed a complaint.

“These countries don’t have the same laws as us,” Gali told News.com following her ordeal. She warned women against going to the UAE. “I was the victim. I’d had something wrong done to me and I was being punished,” she lamented.

The UAE was set up in 1971 as a federation of seven emirates – Abu Dhabi, Ajman, Dubai, Fujairah, Ras al-Khaima, Sharjah and Umm al-Quwain. It occupies the area previously known as the Trucial Coast. UAE has a federal judicial system as well, but Dubai and Ras Al Khaima chose to maintain their own.

The UAE follows a form of civil law jurisdiction which is heavily influenced by French, Roman, Egyptian and Islamic (or Sharia) law. Islamic courts work alongside civil and criminal courts primarily concerning civil matters between Muslims. Sharia courts hear family matters, such as divorce, child custody, child abuse cases and inheritance disputes, and the principles of Sharia are applied when the UAE’s codified law doesn’t cover the situation at hand.

“The Sharia court may, at the federal level only (which … excludes Dubai and Ras Al Khaimah), also hear appeals of certain criminal cases including rape, robbery, driving under the influence of alcohol and related crimes, which were originally tried in lower criminal courts,” according to the US Consulate website for Dubai/UAE.

It should be noted that more secular Arab countries recognise and prosecute rape as a punishable crime for the perpetrator, although the social taboo attached to it leads many victims to remain silent. For instance, in Egypt, men found guilty of rape (though marital rape is not illegal) face sentences ranging between three years and life, though it is estimated that only 10% of rapes are ever reported. Tunisia, where marital rape was made illegal in 2008, probably has the most supportive legal system for rape victims in the Arab world

Punishing the victim

Gali, a salon manager at Le Meridien Al Aqah Beach Resort in Fujairah, said the last thing she remembered about the incident was having a drink at the staff bar when another employee put ice in her drink. Later that night, hotel security staff were alerted that screaming could be heard from Gali’s room. Investigating the noise, they found the woman naked and unconscious with several men in the room.

Gali says she woke up the next day confused and in pain. She took herself to hospital and was informed by medical staff that she had been sexually assaulted. When she was discharged from hospital she was asked to go to a police station to make a statement.

That’s when it started going all wrong.

“I realised when I was put in a police car that I was being taken to jail,” she is reported to have said. “I didn’t even know what the charges were until five months into my sentence!”

Fast-forward a couple of years and today Gali is looking to understand what happened and is keen to get answers from the Australian government and her employer as to why she didn’t have more information and warnings about the treatment of women in rape cases in the UAE.

If not ill-advised Gali was certainly ill-informed about the world that she was entering. A world where men make and (apparently) break the rules. The UAE, and especially Dubai, appears to be suffering from a split personality. Considered by many of its neighbours as the ‘liberal and tolerant’ emirate (interpret that as you wish), Dubai seems to have a love-hate relationship with the West. Love the women, Dunkin’ Donuts, Palm Island parties … hate the women, Dunkin’ Donuts, parties!  

According to a blogger on Escape-Artist, Dubai is setting itself up as the tourism and party town of the Middle East, but with the party comes the party people and inevitably the sleeze: “It’s already the prostitution capital of the Middle East. Brazen Russians in short skirts and halter-tops frequently solicit right on the street. There are thousands of girls who have come from the former Soviet republics and Eastern Europe to ‘work’. Then there are the fun-loving girls who fly out from Europe (and the States) to hook up with affluent guys,” the blogger comments in a post entitled ‘Sex in the city’.

“What’s interesting – and a little irritating – is that a lot of local guys have no problem with being married and having girlfriends on the side (not an attitude restricted only to local guys). Local women, on the other hand, are not even allowed to chat on the telephone with a man outside the family,” the writer continues.

On the Australian embassy’s UAE site, under ‘Services for Australians’ emergency contact information is provided and a statement that: “One of the main functions of the Australian embassy is to provide a range of services (within limits) to Australian citizens.”

The ‘within limits’ is linked to a page on its smarttraveller.gov.au website which spells out what the limits are: “Consular staff cannot use their position to influence unduly or bypass local laws or processes, even when these would appear by Australian standards to be unfair or unnecessarily arduous. While consular staff can sometimes use their knowledge and understanding of the local environment to facilitate support, they must work within the legal and administrative constraints applying in their host country.”

The UAE embassy site has assorted information about passports, travel information, some tax and repatriation information and a section called ‘Living in UAE or Qatar’. No obvious or apparent mention of how to deal with UAE customs and laws or warnings to young female travellers about the risk of sexual abuse.

However, if you follow the link to the ‘Latest travel advisories and other traveller hints’, then the ‘Travel advice’ page, then scan down to the ‘United Arab Emirates’ and on that page under the ‘Local laws’ section it states: “When you are in the UAE be aware that local laws and penalties, including ones that appear harsh by Australian standards, do apply to you. If you are arrested or jailed, the Australian Government will do what it can to help you but we can’t get you out of trouble or out of jail. Custodial sentences would be served in local jails.”

It continues: “The UAE is a Muslim country and its local laws reflect the fact that Islamic practices and beliefs are closely applied. Legal and administrative processes may be substantially different from those in Australia. If you are arrested, you may face a significant period of detention before your case comes to trial. You should familiarise yourself with local laws before you travel. […] Common law relationships, homosexual acts and prostitution are illegal and subject to severe punishment. Adultery is also a crime.”

It also states: “It is illegal to harass women. Harassment includes unwanted conversation, prolonged stares, touching any part of the body, glaring, shouting, stalking or any comments that may offend.”

In the ‘Travel tips’ section of smarttraveller.gov.au, under the ‘Sexual assault overseas’, the Australian governments offers a number of tips to avoid becoming a victim of sexual assault. And the site states: “Sexual assault is never the victim’s fault. Try not to blame yourself. The perpetrator is the only one responsible for the assault. No one deserves to be raped or assaulted.”

(That’s one for the books, then!)

And after some further research and surfing, your reporter could not find an express mention that filing a complaint for rape without four male witnesses to back up your story may well land the victim in jail for adultery.  

Gali’s story highlights something of a disconnect in this part of the world between materialism and Westernism. It is a poignant reminder that the swish hotels and (fake) beaches can lull a visitor into thinking they are in a Western land. But this can be illusionary, and travellers and guest workers may quickly fall foul of UAE laws. Dubai’s party and glitz blitz can never mask what lurks beneath.

Note: This article was updated to clarify the location of the incident.
 
This article is published here with the author’s consent. ©Ray O’Reilly. All rights reserved.
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Learning tolerance

 
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By Barry van Driel

Islamophobia is common in western society, so the classroom is a good place to start combating it.

25 November 2010

If ever a book was overdue, Teaching against Islamophobia is it. This edited volume of very diverse contributions deals with a phenomenon that I would want to describe as the first real obsession of the 21st century:  the unease of Western societies with Islam and Muslims.  Unease is perhaps too mild a term for the mudslinging, accusations, fears and sheer paranoia that seem to have taken hold of large swathes of the public and media across North America and Europe. The vitriolic attacks on everything Muslim have been unleashed from both the right and the left side of the political spectrum.

This book represents a committed and comprehensive attempt to remind those in society who define themselves as educators that embracing issues of social justice and equity implies taking sides in the Islamophobia debate. The editors rightfully view Islamophobia through the lens of racism. In the UK, this has led to the use of the term anti-Muslim racism instead of Islamophobia.

Though the authors claim in their forward that the book is aimed at teachers, the contributions make it clear that it is intended for a much broader audience and that it has been especially written to make all of us (the non-Muslims primarily) reflect on our attitudes and misconceptions and to rethink many of our assumptions.

Living in Europe, I was pleased to see a primarily American book provide a North American perspective on the issue of Islamophobia, while also bringing in European issues in a few key places. In that sense, the book truly has an international character.

The 20 chapters in this book cover a wide range of topics, and it moves from more theoretical and socio-political discourse to a discussion of more practical issues.

In chapter 1, Joe Kincheloe and Shirley Steinberg set the theoretical tone for the rest of the book. Their comment that “learning from difference means that teachers are aware of the histories and struggles of colonized groups and oppressed  peoples” signifies how the authors reject the very common approach in multicultural and intercultural education that avoids discussing historical injustices and controversial issues so as not to upset people. References to empathetic understanding, solidarity and valuing of differences help position their pedagogical approach.  Their deconstruction of the propagandistic arguments being used by, for instance, the Fordham Foundation to promote the West as enlightened and majority Muslim nations as inherently inferior and a threat.

Chistopher Stonebanks builds on this analysis by looking at the manner in which intolerant attitudes towards Muslims and Islam are promoted by popular culture and are not considered, by and large, to be prejudicial. He also discusses the controversial concept of Islamophobia. Any treatise on the topic is enriched by looking at alternative and perhaps more accurate concepts. For instance, the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), which includes some 67 countries from Canada to Russia, speaks of ‘intolerance against Muslims’.

The last two chapters of Part 1 have been written by several Muslim teachers and address the misconceptions they encounter among their students regarding the core principles of Islam, the role of women, perceptions of violence, the spiritual meaning of the concept of ‘jihad’, and more.

Screen villains

Part 2 of the book looks at public, media and political discourse related to Islam. Shirley Steinberg returns to the topic of media discourse by examining 17 films where there is a significant presence of Arabs and/or Muslims. Her analysis shows that the overwhelming majority of Muslims/Arabs depicted in films – for most films the two are interchangeable categories – are viewed as barbaric, dangerous and uncivilised. They are somewhere between human and animal. White men are viewed as the heroes who will save locals and the West from these evil, stealing, cheating people. Arab and Muslim women are almost exclusively portrayed as oppressed and/or fanatical.

Steinberg also traces how Arabs and Muslims are portrayed in television programmes in the United States and finds that though there a few positive depictions of Muslims, they are, by far, in the minority and becoming less common in recent years. Steinberg especially deconstructs popular television shows, such as Cable TV’s Sleeper Cell and 24. On the whole, Muslims are perceived as potential threats and especially as the ‘enemy within’.  Given their evil demeanour and the threat to the United States they do not deserve the same rights as others in society.

Jehanzab Dar looks at the demonisation of Muslims and Arabs in mainstream American comic books, which tend to be poorly developed caricatures of the ugly Arab stereotype. The author does devote some attention to several more recent positive cartoon depictions.  The series The 99 is especially mentioned as an example of how popular media (in this case comic books) can provide more accurate depictions of Muslims and Arabs.

Michael Giardina, moves away from analyses of popular culture somewhat and looks at how political individuals can be demonised through associations with Islam. He focuses on the rhetoric and imagery used to discredit US President Barack Obama by right-wing conservatives.

Nations of Islam

Part 3 shed light on “Muslims you never knew” by covering topics outside the main discourse relating to Islamophobia.

Several essays examine a topic often forgotten in the discourse about Islam and Muslims in the United States – the relationship of the African-American community to Islam. Preacher Moss, who refers to himself as an ‘undercover Muslim’, takes a somewhat tongue-in-cheek look at African American perspectives on Muslim identities.  The more serious essence of his treatise is that “African American Muslims are marginalized as African Americans and ignored as African American Muslims”.

Samaa Abdurraqib provides highly insightful information about the historical relationship of the African-American community in the United States to Islam. She explains, right from its inception, Islam has been present in the United States – citing that perhaps 10%-15% of slaves brought to the United States were Muslim. She goes on to explain how this dimension of black history in the United States has been ignored in education and in the media, as has the diversity among US Muslims. The author’s main point is that Islam is not a foreign religion in the United States, as frequently claimed, but that it has long-established roots.

In a chapter that is bound to lead to significant discussion and debate among educators of all stripes, Younes Mourchid examines the contested relationship between alternative sexual orientations and traditional Islamic values. Mourchid builds his chapter on interviews with 20 LGBT Muslims. The author shows how such individuals, in often complex and contradictory ways, almost always struggle with their identity formation.

Some tend to internalise homophobic attitudes, blaming themselves for causing friction in the family, for instance, while others might internalise Islamophobic attitudes, blaming Islam for rejecting this core part of their identity. The campaign to make homosexuality acceptable in Muslim communities faces many challenges and is an uphill struggle. Mourchid closes with a discussion of whether those who hold traditional religious attitudes and reject homosexuality can be labelled ‘homophobic’.  His answer might surprise some readers.

Awad Ibrahim also seeks to provoke debate by examining the role of atheists and other non-believers within Islamic societies and ends with what he calls ‘The St Petersburg Manifesto’. This Manifesto is directed at both Muslim and non-Muslim faith communities and argues for a number of freedoms to be implemented in predominantly Muslim societies, such as freedom of conscience and freedom of speech, and the separation of religion and state.

Back to school

Part 4 brings us closest to the title of the book by providing some very concrete suggestions for materials that can be used in classrooms at all levels to combat Islamophobia, while also examining these materials critically.

Carolyne Ali Khan takes a critical look at a variety of educational programmes and materials that students in US schools are exposed to. In a very insightful discussion of several organisations and programmes that claim to promote understanding and ‘tolerance’, Ali Khan shows how they do the opposite.  She critically assesses, for instance, the messages and approaches promulgated by the New York Tolerance Centre and the American Textbook Council. The author’s discussion of these and other respected sources shows to what extent anti-Muslim bias has penetrated mainstream and even ‘tolerance’ education.  She ends her chapter by presenting some ‘uncommon knowledge’ about Pakistan and Pakistanis. Khan comments that many in Pakistan “are not the lunatic fringe. They are intelligent, complex and rational; they sing, dance and read and (perhaps most shockingly) they laugh, merrily poking fun at themselves and at the world”.

Anastasia Kamanos Gamelin looks at the intersection of gender and education in Saudi Arabia, a country known for denying women a number of fundamental rights and with a very traditional view of gender roles.

Fida Sanjakdar focuses on sex education in Australia and the view of Muslim communities regarding this always contested topic.  She notes that, in Islamic school curricula, almost no attention is devoted to sex education and this omission, in her view, represents a violation of the Islamic principles of a holistic and democratic education.

Krista Riley looks at the ways that literature, in particular young adult literature, can be used to “address themes of oppression and to promote critical reflection and social justice activism”. She does this by analyzing the book Bifocal, a fictional story about the arrests made of young Muslim men in Toronto in 2006 and the racist backlash at a high school after the arrests.

In the book’s final chapter, Melanie Stonebanks presents three potential classroom resources – illustrated picture books with Muslim main characters – that could be used as first steps to combating Islamophobia.  She concludes that, though the texts are far from perfect, they could be useful if used appropriately and with a critical eye.

This article is published with the author’s permission. © Barry van Driel. All rights reserved.

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Moving, not moving on?

 
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By Christian Nielsen

Moving house is a back-breaking master class in logistics. But it’s also an emotional rite – moving from what was to what will be, purging yourself of possessions and packing some away for good.

8 September 2010

I recently moved house. All things considered, it went smoothly. We shifted everything we owned from one place to another with military precision; boxes first, big stuff next, people in the car behind. It’s just logistics.

But so much of who we are or what we represent is embalmed in this stuff and the places where we ‘house’ it that this nomadic rite deserves closer inspection. Perhaps it’s not a simple logistics exercise, after all.

There are no shortage of websites and services offering advice on moving, from preformatted ‘to do’ checklists and stress exercises to formulaic messages to announce your new abode. Here’s a couple of classics:

“We’ve found what makes a house a home… Lots of love, plenty of laughter, and the presence of friends and family! Stop by our new house soon…  and often!”

“We’ve packed our things and moved to a new address, but all the friends we’ve left behind
are what we’ll really miss! Our new address is…”

“We’ve packed up boxes, lamps, and chairs… our home is somewhere new. We couldn’t leave and settle in without telling you.”

It’s wonderfully cheesy stuff. And if these soppy morsels didn’t mask more serious emotional issues associated with moving, I’d happily tear them apart. The fact that people need to build their very own yellow brick road from ‘what was’ to ‘what will be’ says a lot about the human desire to be rooted, or connected.

New research even suggests the act of frequent moving on children can carry emotional baggage right through to adulthood. Writing in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, scientists took an established fact – that children who move house often tend to perform worse in school and can have behavioural problems – and looked more closely at what might be happening behind this.

Serial movers, the researchers say, tend to establish fewer so-called “quality” social relationships, and the more they moved as children, the less “happy” they tended to be as adults – scoring lower on the “well-being” and “life satisfaction” scales.

But not everyone is affected in the same way, the scientists caution. Certain personality types like introverts and more nervous or high-strung characters tended to be affected worse by regular moves. Of course, some people may enjoy the variety of experiences it throws up.

It’s your move

About 12 weeks ago we signed a contract saying that we would move our belongings – including two small human ones – across town. The preparations started then. I won’t go into the details, as I’m sure everyone knows the drill, but I will comment on some of the unexpected things that this transition threw up. As I ventured into the hidden recesses of the old house to perform stage one of the campaign – throwing away stuff – I came to realise with every load to the container park how suffocating all this stuff had become.

After a few weeks of this, I began to see pockets of light filter into the cellar once again. I discovered remnants of previous moves gone wrong – the unopened boxes of five years ago. Table tennis bats reappeared and I remembered how much I liked playing it. CD collections – relegated by iPod to the draws – got dusted off ready for a return to the good old days of having something to read while you listen to the tunes.

From my wardrobe I learnt that I tried (and failed) a couple of years ago to be more dapper. The growing collection of prams, scooters and bicycles in the garage bore witness to my growing and changing family. Each layer of stuff, once peeled, revealed something new, and yet entirely familiar.

To throw or not to throw? It transpired that my life – in and out of boxes –could be summed up with this basic tenet. Mostly, the decision was to throw. I threw and threw and threw. So much was thrown out that I sit today in my new – admittedly bigger, greener, nicer – house with a half empty wardrobe, a half full garage, a half empty garden shed and a draining fear that this new-found liberty can’t be sustained.

With each passing week, and each casual trip to IKEA, I dread the cycle of accumulation starting anew. I wonder if a new household regime will be needed, something like a nightclub policy of ‘one in one out’. One new pair of shoes, one old pair off to the op shop. One new children’s slide erected, one child fostered out… okay so perhaps that’s a bit extreme.

I’m a firm believer in keeping emotions out of logistics. And I approached the recent move as such. But the weeks of purging and packing kept reminding me of past moves and past times. Against my will, the ‘physical’ gradually ceded to the ‘psychological’ during this move. I recalled fondly moving house as a student, where everything could be packed into one car or on the back of a bike, and never looking back.

It’s not like that anymore. And I haven’t got a clue how I feel about this. Perhaps it’s inevitable, as I accumulate more stuff – mental and physical – I can’t expect it to all fit into a small Ford. No matter how hard I try to throw away the vestiges of the past they resist. I tell myself I’m moving on as well as moving away, but my heart and back are just not as hard as they used to be.

This is the extended version of an article which appeared in Australia’s The Age newspaper on 5 September 2010. Published here with the author’s permission. ©Christian Nielsen. All rights reserved.

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Australia’s great outdoors?

 
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By Ray O’Reilly

Like shrimps on the barbie and hard yakka*, the great outdoors is one of the binding contracts of being Australian. Except it really isn’t.

12 January 2010

I’ve lived away from Australia for some time now and what strikes me as more ironical every time I return is the image of Australia as a tough outdoorsy culture. It’s a load of rubbish.

The Australians I come across spend more time inside than northern Europeans, ducking from one air conditioned environment to the other, avoiding the sun like a preternatural creature.

Meanwhile, my Swedish wife shivers away in our family home in both winter and summer. Winter because there’s no heating in the place and summer because, again, there is very powerful air conditioning whirring away day and night, it seems.

Visiting friends and family head straight for the dark kitchen (all light is blocked to prevent any errant heat from entering the premises) and drink tea while there is a glorious sun beckoning outside.

Barbeques are cooked in a confined, covered outdoor area and the food usually consumed inside at said darkened kitchen.

Occasionally my wife sneaks out to bask in the sun. But she is usually shamed back inside by the many rebukes about not wearing any sun cream. It must be said, I’m usually one of the first to comment, but I do understand her hankering for sun. We spend what seems to be most of the year moping under grey Belgian skies, so the chance of a stolen summer holiday to break this wintry misery is too much to waste sitting in dark kitchens.

The sun aversion makes more sense to me of course. I’ve grown up shunning the sunning and spurning the burning, so it’s not hard to get used to this mentality again. But what does pinch a bit is the deception that Australians are hardy, bronzed outdoor types, braving wild surf and even wilder bush in pursuit of adventure.

It’s a load of bollocks. If Australians ever matched this stereotype, it ended a few decades ago. What I see today are pasty mall rats who wouldn’t look out of place in Northern England. The teenagers stay up nights on their Xbox or surfing the net and then sleep the days away. And this chronic inactivity naturally leads to chronic obesity and all that comes with that.

It’s a great shame to behold. And I don’t really see any signs of it improving. There have been hints of research suggesting Australia might have gone overboard with its fear-mongering about staying out of the sun. So maybe the Australian government will stop playing nanny and lay off the cancer ads.

Hardy people with ambition once braved the hot, harsh conditions of the great southern continent. And to their credit, they managed to forge a unique country and society. But the Australians of today are a flabby facsimile of  these pioneers who knew the real meaning of hard yakka and the great outdoors.

* Working hard

This article is published here with the author’s permission. © Copyright Ray O’Reilly. All rights reserved.

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