"Liberty and union, one and inseparable, now and forever!"
I keep having this recurring thought: After the celebrations end, the CNN troops withdraw from the land, and the sentimental speeches from foreign heads of state come to a close, what is left?
Over 300 dead shahidin minimized to a statue erected in their honour?
Spatially, a downtown square already envisioned as the Freedom Square, re-crowned "Tahrir Sq."?
An already ailing, aged ruler whose fatal flaw has been pride and a reluctance to acknowledge reality?
A power vacuum, leaving the "new Egypt" vulnerable to whomever has the loudest voice?
And a nation of almost 85 million who never imagined that they would live to see such radical change in a country
February 14, 2011
Showing posts with label politricks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politricks. Show all posts
01 February 2020
14 August 2018
Making Myths Out of Massacres: on Rabaa & the challenges of mourning
"Right there. That's where it happened."
I follow Mohamed's nod, trying to take a long look at the somewhat distant cluster of buildings, fruitlessly searching for a minaret or anything to indicate the presence of a mosque. Our van defiantly lurches ahead, the image disappearing behind us before I can register any meaningful details.
It's 2014 and our biennial family trip to Egypt is coming to a close as we drive through Madinet Nasr. Mohamed, the young man hired to drive us (and our growing pile of belongings) around the country for the summer, expertly navigates the full van through traffic. Polite and soft-spoken, he hasn't said much for the whole trip, even during the endless drives to the Red Sea a few weeks earlier when he brought a friend to accompany him. Sometimes I catch his spectacled gaze in the rear-view mirror, though it never seems prying.
"Atee3a! To hell with them!" my mom proclaims with uncharacteristic crudeness from the row furthest back. "They were going to bring down the whole country."
By "they", she is referring to The Muslim Brotherhood, who seem to have re-assumed their position as Voldermort-like sources of death and destruction in the psyche of people like my mother and father, whose mere mention by name proves too mention. "They" also happen to include Mohamed, who has just pointed out the Rabaa al-Adawiya mosque to our left. I stare at his face in the rearview mirror, looking for anything, even a flinch, but Mohammed's eyes stay glued to the road, unchanging. I feel a tinge of shame for my mother and after fighting back the urge to react to such a harsh display, I feel the shame for myself.
This is the way it has always been whenever my parents, relatives, or their friends refer to the Brotherhood (or whatever conveniently constitutes that category at the time). They are not unlike many Egyptians, and many more diasporic Egyptians whose allegiance is inextricably tied to a regime that plays into their fear of instability and promises to deliver that rare, depleted regional resource, security--even as it actively compromises the safety of those it pretends to protect. Indeed, even if this allegiance compromises more important things, like their moral standards.
Just one month prior to this, on the cusp of the one year anniversary of the deadly dispersal, another moment of (imagined?) tension surfaced during a drive with Mohamed. Human Rights Watch had just released their controversial report on "The Rab’a Massacre and Mass Killings of Protesters in Egypt", forcing open the wound that had been callously bandaged by those crafting the narrative for people like my parents. It wasn't surprising to see the immediate reaction to details about the mass murders, to watch the reactive denial of eyewitness accounts and registered figures. It wasn't surprising but it was disheartening. Throughout the discussion happening between my cousins and parents and the accompanying friend in the passenger seat, I kept looking to Mohamed for a response. He said nothing and drove.
Perhaps I am just projecting all of these expectations on Mohamed. Maybe all those conflicting ideologies packed into one van isn't such a big deal after all?
We learned of Mohamed's affiliation with the Brotherhood during the first ride we shared with him. When the driver hired to take us to Alexandria didn't show up several hours after he was scheduled to, my cousin offered to send a trusted friend with a van to help us out of the predicament. My mother seemed to pause, considering her options as she heard the name, but it was the day before Eid and she must have realized it was either Mohamed or missing out on Alex. A tall, stocky young man with a light beard and big glasses showed up within the hour, whisking our heavy bags into the large white tourist van that would become our main means of transport for the remainder of our stay. I don't remember the exact conversation that lead to the revelation of his association with the group, but I do remember it being a hot topic of conversation in the apartment that night. Eventually no one spoke about it at all.
Maybe that's why it was so easy to blindly deny the tragic reality and to propagate the regime's narrative right in his face.
I remember casually reading through the HRW report over a light breakfast and carrying on with my day, only remembering it if it popped up on my Twitter timeline. I was horrified by the flagrant brutality, but I was looking for something more tangible than shock. That overwhelming spate of grief I sought eluded me. Had I too become desensitized to "them"?
All sorts of thoughts are interrupting themselves in my head as we pull further away from Rabaa. The cacophony of chatter surrounding me fades into the background. I am being pulled by that same feeling that gripped at me as I walked through Midan el Tahrir months earlier, my first visit since the events of 2011. It is like a combination of grief and guilt, made heavier by the need to repress it. By the pressure to participate in the active denial of these realities. Or worse yet, to partake in the delusion that such loss, such taking of life, is ultimately inconsequential.
I turn my head all the way back to squint at the site, but by now all I can see are the massive military buildings in the horizon as Mohamed drives on.
I follow Mohamed's nod, trying to take a long look at the somewhat distant cluster of buildings, fruitlessly searching for a minaret or anything to indicate the presence of a mosque. Our van defiantly lurches ahead, the image disappearing behind us before I can register any meaningful details.
It's 2014 and our biennial family trip to Egypt is coming to a close as we drive through Madinet Nasr. Mohamed, the young man hired to drive us (and our growing pile of belongings) around the country for the summer, expertly navigates the full van through traffic. Polite and soft-spoken, he hasn't said much for the whole trip, even during the endless drives to the Red Sea a few weeks earlier when he brought a friend to accompany him. Sometimes I catch his spectacled gaze in the rear-view mirror, though it never seems prying.
"Atee3a! To hell with them!" my mom proclaims with uncharacteristic crudeness from the row furthest back. "They were going to bring down the whole country."
By "they", she is referring to The Muslim Brotherhood, who seem to have re-assumed their position as Voldermort-like sources of death and destruction in the psyche of people like my mother and father, whose mere mention by name proves too mention. "They" also happen to include Mohamed, who has just pointed out the Rabaa al-Adawiya mosque to our left. I stare at his face in the rearview mirror, looking for anything, even a flinch, but Mohammed's eyes stay glued to the road, unchanging. I feel a tinge of shame for my mother and after fighting back the urge to react to such a harsh display, I feel the shame for myself.
This is the way it has always been whenever my parents, relatives, or their friends refer to the Brotherhood (or whatever conveniently constitutes that category at the time). They are not unlike many Egyptians, and many more diasporic Egyptians whose allegiance is inextricably tied to a regime that plays into their fear of instability and promises to deliver that rare, depleted regional resource, security--even as it actively compromises the safety of those it pretends to protect. Indeed, even if this allegiance compromises more important things, like their moral standards.
Just one month prior to this, on the cusp of the one year anniversary of the deadly dispersal, another moment of (imagined?) tension surfaced during a drive with Mohamed. Human Rights Watch had just released their controversial report on "The Rab’a Massacre and Mass Killings of Protesters in Egypt", forcing open the wound that had been callously bandaged by those crafting the narrative for people like my parents. It wasn't surprising to see the immediate reaction to details about the mass murders, to watch the reactive denial of eyewitness accounts and registered figures. It wasn't surprising but it was disheartening. Throughout the discussion happening between my cousins and parents and the accompanying friend in the passenger seat, I kept looking to Mohamed for a response. He said nothing and drove.
Perhaps I am just projecting all of these expectations on Mohamed. Maybe all those conflicting ideologies packed into one van isn't such a big deal after all?
We learned of Mohamed's affiliation with the Brotherhood during the first ride we shared with him. When the driver hired to take us to Alexandria didn't show up several hours after he was scheduled to, my cousin offered to send a trusted friend with a van to help us out of the predicament. My mother seemed to pause, considering her options as she heard the name, but it was the day before Eid and she must have realized it was either Mohamed or missing out on Alex. A tall, stocky young man with a light beard and big glasses showed up within the hour, whisking our heavy bags into the large white tourist van that would become our main means of transport for the remainder of our stay. I don't remember the exact conversation that lead to the revelation of his association with the group, but I do remember it being a hot topic of conversation in the apartment that night. Eventually no one spoke about it at all.
Maybe that's why it was so easy to blindly deny the tragic reality and to propagate the regime's narrative right in his face.
I remember casually reading through the HRW report over a light breakfast and carrying on with my day, only remembering it if it popped up on my Twitter timeline. I was horrified by the flagrant brutality, but I was looking for something more tangible than shock. That overwhelming spate of grief I sought eluded me. Had I too become desensitized to "them"?
All sorts of thoughts are interrupting themselves in my head as we pull further away from Rabaa. The cacophony of chatter surrounding me fades into the background. I am being pulled by that same feeling that gripped at me as I walked through Midan el Tahrir months earlier, my first visit since the events of 2011. It is like a combination of grief and guilt, made heavier by the need to repress it. By the pressure to participate in the active denial of these realities. Or worse yet, to partake in the delusion that such loss, such taking of life, is ultimately inconsequential.
I turn my head all the way back to squint at the site, but by now all I can see are the massive military buildings in the horizon as Mohamed drives on.
23 July 2018
"#TorontoStrong", Sometimes: On collective grief & who has access to it
This morning I woke up to a torrent of tweets and news stories about the mass shooting that happened last night on Danforth Rd. here in Toronto. A now (alarmingly) familiar formula was followed which included the deployment of the #TorontoStrong hashtag, the obsessive eagerness to (erroneously) quantify the number of victims in real time, and the rallying cries for unity by politicians and police chiefs. But while all these measures have come to constitute what we may now consider "normal"--a disturbing realization in and of itself--at the heart of this collective grief is a specific kind of mourning reserved for certain spaces (and their populations). This is reflected in euphemistic claims about how "safe" the neighbourhood continues to be, and in comments such as that of Andrea Horwath in city hall this morning:
"This tragedy does not reflect the Danforth, the city, or the province."
There are several ways we can analyze such statements. For example, we can argue about how such incidents do in fact reflect the community, the parts of it that we avert our eyes from. Though it may be too early in this moment, we can look more and more at the bigger picture on mental health and access to guns, for example. Perhaps this sort of public grief is rooted in a self-centred empathy: the belief that innocent people should not face such untold tragedy represents our anxieties about such tragedy being visited upon us, or those we love. On the other hand, we can commend such a view for challenging the tendency to conflate an individual's actions with their entire neighbourhood, community, family, environment. The issue is that this nuanced discursive approach is only applied to specific narratives and neighbourhoods.
During a time of heightened fear--and fear-mongering--around what has been called "The Summer of The Gun 2.0", there has been no shortage of news covering what is often presented as a spike in gun violence, and the defaulted to "gang violence". Upon landing at the airport a few weeks ago, the first jumbo TV screen I noticed carried story after story about a string of shootings that had occurred while I was gone. Headlines scream alarmist claims like "Toronto homicide rates higher than NYC", and almost every public conversation involves a debate around the need to deploy (and employ) more police.
As ultimate example of the way these tragedies are collectively handled, Community Safety and Corrections Minister Michael Tibollo was recently quoted as saying,
"I went out to Jane and Finch, put on a bulletproof vest...visiting sites that had previously had bullet-ridden people killed in the middle of the night..."
If the rallying cries to remember that the Danforth community (a.k.a "Greektown") is transcendent of such violent tragedy represents much-needed relativism, then comments and actions such as those of Tibollo represent a negligent essentialization. Rather than share in the grief of a community already affected by unimaginable loss and direct trauma, they are subjected to further stigmatization, even to blame. These environments are to be targeted for strategic intervention, and at the very least, to be handled separately and carefully with gloves--or a bullet-proof vest. It's as though the neighbourhood's inhabitants are deserving of, responsible for, or to be held guilty for the tragedy that unfolds right around them. Not only does this problematic view assume the inherent criminality of some spaces, it is a faulty logic that obscures structural dynamics of inequality that transcend a neighbourhood's boundaries.
Everytime I skim a major publication's coverage, or read what another politician said, it feels like 2005 all over again--the original "Summer of The Gun". As a result of those events and the way they were portrayed, I watched the neighbourhood I grew up in specifically, and the surrounding region (shoutout to Scarborough) become entangled in a targeted intervention that did little more than stigmatize it and solidify all the stereotypes that served as part of the mythology that forms our space(s).
"This tragedy does not reflect the Danforth, the city, or the province."
There are several ways we can analyze such statements. For example, we can argue about how such incidents do in fact reflect the community, the parts of it that we avert our eyes from. Though it may be too early in this moment, we can look more and more at the bigger picture on mental health and access to guns, for example. Perhaps this sort of public grief is rooted in a self-centred empathy: the belief that innocent people should not face such untold tragedy represents our anxieties about such tragedy being visited upon us, or those we love. On the other hand, we can commend such a view for challenging the tendency to conflate an individual's actions with their entire neighbourhood, community, family, environment. The issue is that this nuanced discursive approach is only applied to specific narratives and neighbourhoods.
During a time of heightened fear--and fear-mongering--around what has been called "The Summer of The Gun 2.0", there has been no shortage of news covering what is often presented as a spike in gun violence, and the defaulted to "gang violence". Upon landing at the airport a few weeks ago, the first jumbo TV screen I noticed carried story after story about a string of shootings that had occurred while I was gone. Headlines scream alarmist claims like "Toronto homicide rates higher than NYC", and almost every public conversation involves a debate around the need to deploy (and employ) more police.
As ultimate example of the way these tragedies are collectively handled, Community Safety and Corrections Minister Michael Tibollo was recently quoted as saying,
"I went out to Jane and Finch, put on a bulletproof vest...visiting sites that had previously had bullet-ridden people killed in the middle of the night..."
If the rallying cries to remember that the Danforth community (a.k.a "Greektown") is transcendent of such violent tragedy represents much-needed relativism, then comments and actions such as those of Tibollo represent a negligent essentialization. Rather than share in the grief of a community already affected by unimaginable loss and direct trauma, they are subjected to further stigmatization, even to blame. These environments are to be targeted for strategic intervention, and at the very least, to be handled separately and carefully with gloves--or a bullet-proof vest. It's as though the neighbourhood's inhabitants are deserving of, responsible for, or to be held guilty for the tragedy that unfolds right around them. Not only does this problematic view assume the inherent criminality of some spaces, it is a faulty logic that obscures structural dynamics of inequality that transcend a neighbourhood's boundaries.
Everytime I skim a major publication's coverage, or read what another politician said, it feels like 2005 all over again--the original "Summer of The Gun". As a result of those events and the way they were portrayed, I watched the neighbourhood I grew up in specifically, and the surrounding region (shoutout to Scarborough) become entangled in a targeted intervention that did little more than stigmatize it and solidify all the stereotypes that served as part of the mythology that forms our space(s).
17 July 2018
Guaranteed Basic Income
Free Lunch Sociey trailer
I watched this engaging documentary on my return flight and I've been thinking about its contents ever since. Free Lunch Society explores the idea of a guaranteed basic income: a payment made to individuals that ensures a minimum income level, regardless of employment status. It features discussions among economists, political scientists, sociologists, and other -ists about its advantages and disadvantages. Interspersed in the debates is a collection of archival footage, including Martin Luther's resistance struggle against President L.B.J's "war on poverty".
The film provides a good introduction and presents the idea as a realistic possibility—highlighting different communities that have already experimented with the concept—rather than a romantic radical fantasy. In fact, the Ontario government just finished the first phase of a basic income pilot project in Hamilton, with plans to launch in Brantford, Brant County, Lindsay and Thunder Bay.
25 April 2011
Voting is sexy!
We live in such a wired, digital age, and we're constantly bombarded with new media sources. Add to that the popularity of things like Twitter and an abundance of current issues that should be important to us, and you should have a high rate of young voters, right? Wrong. Canadian youth are some of the most underrepresented at the elections, so it's important to go out and show that you are worth more than your tax dollars!
READ up on party platforms, think of things that represent your own values and ideas, and most importantly- look at track records in your own ridings. There is NO reason why you, as a Canadian citizen, with your own set of values, and 10 minutes to spare out of your schedule WONT go out to vote.
Its our moral, civic and awakened (if you will) duty as people to elect the people who will lead in our societies...
BUT, if this all sounds boring to you, I'll just let Nelly Furtado tell you:
READ up on party platforms, think of things that represent your own values and ideas, and most importantly- look at track records in your own ridings. There is NO reason why you, as a Canadian citizen, with your own set of values, and 10 minutes to spare out of your schedule WONT go out to vote.
Its our moral, civic and awakened (if you will) duty as people to elect the people who will lead in our societies...
BUT, if this all sounds boring to you, I'll just let Nelly Furtado tell you:
Okay, so perhaps I wouldn't have really said that way, and yes I admit this video made me cringe a bit, but I LOVE the underlying message: VOTE!
26 March 2011
"Hip Hop is Bigger Than the Occupation"
Existence is Resistance Presents: Hip Hop is Bigger Than the Occupation
Gonna try my best to find out about when and where this film is released...
"A Film By Existence is Resistance and Nana Dankwa about a musical tour to Palestine teaching resistance through the arts. Featuring M1 of Dead Prez, Lowkey, Shadia Mansour, Marcel Cartier, Mazzi of S.O.U.L. Purpose, DJ Vega Benetton, SWYC, University of Hip Hop, Jody McIntyre and many more.... for more information on upcoming tours and about the organization please click here"
Gonna try my best to find out about when and where this film is released...
16 March 2011
Israel- the "democratic" state??
Last year was Israeli Apartheid Week in Toronto and each day saw at least a couple of events stretched across Toronto's university campuses. As I was rushing to class last week (U of T) I happened to see a couple of students set up on a table with posters reading "Support Israeli Democracy" and such. Now, I just HAD to stop and see exactly what sort of misguided propaganda they appeared to be trying to spread. As I got closer to their posters, I noticed they were full of all sorts of numbers: statistics from the U.N (mainly) and some Israeli-lobbyist groups.
The first thing I thought about was why on earth they would use U.N "official" definitions and sources to explain why Israel should be allowed to carry out its terrorist agenda in the name of democracy.
Lets just remember here that of the 115-member states of the U.N's General Assembly, THE ONLY COUNTRIES WHO SUPPORT ISRAEL'S ACTIONS ARE (*drumroll*):
- The U.S
- Micronesia,
- the Marshall Islands
- Palau (all 3 of which are associated states of the U.S)
- Australia
- and Canada (ashamedly, under Stephen Harper)
Anyway, I gotta attach the fine print here: I'm not anti-semitic, I'm anti-the STATE of Israel & any ideas grounded in the belief that some people are more entitled to the world than others (ahem, Zionism, ahem). I do not support the Harper government (lets leave it at that). And of course, I'm in a firm believer in the democracy & the right to self-determination, but like my fellow-Canadian Trudeau said: "A democracy is judged by the way the majority treats the minority". And shall we even begin to discuss how the Arab + Palestinian citizens are treated within the occupied territories?...
The first thing I thought about was why on earth they would use U.N "official" definitions and sources to explain why Israel should be allowed to carry out its terrorist agenda in the name of democracy.
Lets just remember here that of the 115-member states of the U.N's General Assembly, THE ONLY COUNTRIES WHO SUPPORT ISRAEL'S ACTIONS ARE (*drumroll*):
- The U.S
- Micronesia,
- the Marshall Islands
- Palau (all 3 of which are associated states of the U.S)
- Australia
- and Canada (ashamedly, under Stephen Harper)
Anyway, I gotta attach the fine print here: I'm not anti-semitic, I'm anti-the STATE of Israel & any ideas grounded in the belief that some people are more entitled to the world than others (ahem, Zionism, ahem). I do not support the Harper government (lets leave it at that). And of course, I'm in a firm believer in the democracy & the right to self-determination, but like my fellow-Canadian Trudeau said: "A democracy is judged by the way the majority treats the minority". And shall we even begin to discuss how the Arab + Palestinian citizens are treated within the occupied territories?...
08 March 2011
Israeli Apartheid Week: DAY 2
As we sit in STARBUCKS with our coffee and
NESTLE chocolate bar,
reading that new book purchased at INDIGO/CHAPTERS,
let us think about how without US THE CONSUMERS, these companies could not continue to help Israel perpetrate its crimes against humanity of the people of Palestine.
Every purchase we make at these and hundreds of other corporations help
lodge bullets into the heads of 8-year-old schoolchildren,
bulldoze a Palestinian compound to build Jewish settlements,
"train" IDF soldiers to terrorize Arab civilians
build more humiliating roadstops and walls,
help perpetuate the Israeli propaganda pursued by virtually all major media networks.
Click here for more information on what you as a consumer can do:
BOYCOTT+DIVESTMENT+SANCTIONS
END ISRAELI APARTHEID.
take some time to sign a petition too:
01 March 2011
Demoralizing the "enemy" from within: a short history of American foreign intervention
"Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future."Adolf Hitler
Here's something sobering to think about: in the last 60 years, the Unite States of America has been intervened in the politics of several countries, attempting to overthrow at least 50 foreign governments since 1945. Using secret intelligence apparatuses and military power, they continue setting their sights on foreign intervention in countries all across the world, with a particularly eerie focus on the Middle East...
- IRAN 1946
- YUGOSLAVIA 1946
- URUGUAY 1947
- GREECE 1947-49
- GERMANY 1948
- CHINA 1948-49
- PHILIPPINES 1948-54
- PUERTO RICO 1950
- KOREA 1951-? (they still have bases there)
- IRAN 1953
- VIETNAM 1954
- GUATEMALA 1954
- EGYPT 1956
- LEBANON l958
- IRAQ 1958
- CHINA l958
- PANAMA 1958
- VIETNAM l960-75 (one million killed in longest U.S. war)
- CUBA l961 (CIA-directed exile invasion fails)
- GERMANY l961
- LAOS 1962
- CUBA l962
- IRAQ 1963
- PANAMA l964
- INDONESIA l965
- DOMINICAN REPUBLIC 1965-66
- GUATEMALA l966-67
- CAMBODIA l969-75 (Up to 2 million killed in bombing, starvation, and political chaos)
- OMAN l970
- LAOS l971-73
- CHILE 1973
- CAMBODIA l975
- ANGOLA l976-92
- IRAN l980
- LIBYA l981
- EL SALVADOR l981-92
- NICARAGUA l981-90
- LEBANON l982-84
- GRENADA l983-84
- HONDURAS l983-89
- IRAN l984
- LIBYA 1985
- BOLIVIA 1986
- IRAN l987-88
- LIBYA 1989
- PHILIPPINES 1989
- PANAMA 1989 (2000+ killed.)
- LIBERIA 1990
- SAUDI ARABIA 1990-91
- IRAQ 1990-91
- KUWAIT 1991
- IRAQ 1991-2003
- SOMALIA 1992-94
- YUGOSLAVIA 1992-94
- BOSNIA 1993
- HAITI 1994
- LIBERIA 1997
- ALBANIA 1997
- SUDAN 1998
- AFGHANISTAN 1998
- IRAQ 1998
- YUGOSLAVIA 1999
- YEMEN 2000
- MACEDONIA 2001
- AFGHANISTAN 2001-?
- YEMEN 2002
- PHILIPPINES 2002-?
- COLOMBIA 2003-?
- IRAQ 2003-?
- LIBERIA 2003
- HAITI 2004-05
- PAKISTAN 2005-?
- SOMALIA 2006-?
- SYRIA 2008
- YEMEN 2009-?
- YOUR COUNTRY- 2011-?
(compiled by: Grossman)
28 February 2011
Israeli Apartheid Week: Toronto
Israeli Apartheid Week (IAW) is an annual international series of events held in cities and campuses across the globe. The aim of IAW is to educate people about the nature of Israel as an apartheid system and to build Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) and last year IAW took place in over 40 countries. Events include lectures, films, and actions that will draw attention to the many continuous injustices that are crucial in the battle to end Israeli Apartheid.
From website:
Now here's a little schedule of all the events taking place in Toronto. For more information or to check out some of the events in other cities, CLICK HERE.
Interrogating Apartheid: Campus as a Site of Resistance
Monday March 7th , 7 PM
University of Toronto: Fitzgerald Building, Room 103
Speakers: Judy Rebick, Abbie Bakan, and SAIA (Students Against Israeli Apartheid)
Film Screening: Jaffa the Oranges Clockwork
Tuesday March 8th
Ryerson University
Film by: Eyal Sivan
The Cultural and Academic Boycott
Wednesday March 9th, 7 PM
University of Toronto, Bahen Auditorium, Room 1160
Speaker: Judith Butler
York's Complicity in Apartheid: Art, Culture and Resistance
Thursday March 10th
York University
Speakers: Paul Kellogg, John Greyson and SAIA
State of the Siege, State of the Struggle: The case for Boycott Divestment, Sanctions
Friday March 11th, 7 PM
University of Toronto, OISE Auditorium, G162 (First Floor)
Speakers: Riham Barghouti and Ali Abunimah
From website:
"The aim of IAW is to contribute to this chorus of international opposition to Israeli apartheid and to bolster support for the BDS campaign in accordance with the demands outlined in the July 2005 Statement: full equality for Arab-Palestinian citizens of Israel, an end to the occupation and colonization of all Arab lands – including the Golan Heights, the Occupied West Bank with East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip – and dismantling the Wall, and the protection of Palestinian refugees’ right to return to their homes and properties as stipulated in U.N. resolution 194. In previous years IAW has played an important role in raising awareness and disseminating information about Zionism, the Palestinian liberation struggle and its similarities with the indigenous sovereignty struggle in North America and the South African anti-apartheid movement. Join us in making this a year of struggle against apartheid and for justice, equality, and peace."
Now here's a little schedule of all the events taking place in Toronto. For more information or to check out some of the events in other cities, CLICK HERE.
Interrogating Apartheid: Campus as a Site of Resistance
Monday March 7th , 7 PM
University of Toronto: Fitzgerald Building, Room 103
Speakers: Judy Rebick, Abbie Bakan, and SAIA (Students Against Israeli Apartheid)
Film Screening: Jaffa the Oranges Clockwork
Tuesday March 8th
Ryerson University
Film by: Eyal Sivan
The Cultural and Academic Boycott
Wednesday March 9th, 7 PM
University of Toronto, Bahen Auditorium, Room 1160
Speaker: Judith Butler
York's Complicity in Apartheid: Art, Culture and Resistance
Thursday March 10th
York University
Speakers: Paul Kellogg, John Greyson and SAIA
State of the Siege, State of the Struggle: The case for Boycott Divestment, Sanctions
Friday March 11th, 7 PM
University of Toronto, OISE Auditorium, G162 (First Floor)
Speakers: Riham Barghouti and Ali Abunimah
10 February 2011
Dr. Norman Finkelstein: Radical Intellectual
He's been pegged as not just an "anti-Semite", but a "self-hating Jew". Some have even gone so far as to call him "an enabler of terrorism". But one person I've looked up to and respected greatly, and informed myself about at lengths is Dr. Norman Finkelstein.
This is a man whose parent's have been directly affected by the horrors of the Holocaust- both being the only to escape slaughter from each of their families- but who continues to maintain one of the loudest anti-Zionist voices in America and abroad. His distinctly strong views, rooted in a well-researched academic past, have gained notoriety among respected intellectuals, like Nom Chomsky. But hearing interview responses and speeches he's done, Dr. Finkelstein continues to assert he is not at all deserving of "being put on a pedestal"- anybody in his position should and would be doing the same. He's published a lot of work, including his controversial books The Holocaust Industry, and ‘This Time We Went Too Far’ – Truth & Consequences of the Gaza Invasion.
Although his resume boasts of impressive positions at top Ivy League schools, critics have claimed "he's not a teacher, he's a propagandist". People continue to harass him on a daily basis, going so far as to vandalize his property and relentlessly call for his eviction from his New York home. He's been banned from travelling to Israel for 10 years, infamously made a slew of different remarks in defense of Hezbollah, and travelled throughout Lebanon and the Occupied Territories on a speaking tour (any Jew reading this will understand the gravity of that gesture).
Next Wednesday, February 16, Dr. Norman Finkelstein will be making an appearance in Toronto at York University in an event called "Israel, Palestine and the Muslim World: Where are we headed?" You can click
right here to check out more info on this event, and some similar ones in other areas of the country.
Anyways, I continue to observe this fascinating man with a vigilence. His opposing sides are highlighted very well in the documentary "American Radical: The Trials of Norman Finkelstein".
HERE, is perhaps one of my favourite clips because I think its such an accurate portrayal of who this brilliant man is:
This is a man whose parent's have been directly affected by the horrors of the Holocaust- both being the only to escape slaughter from each of their families- but who continues to maintain one of the loudest anti-Zionist voices in America and abroad. His distinctly strong views, rooted in a well-researched academic past, have gained notoriety among respected intellectuals, like Nom Chomsky. But hearing interview responses and speeches he's done, Dr. Finkelstein continues to assert he is not at all deserving of "being put on a pedestal"- anybody in his position should and would be doing the same. He's published a lot of work, including his controversial books The Holocaust Industry, and ‘This Time We Went Too Far’ – Truth & Consequences of the Gaza Invasion.
Although his resume boasts of impressive positions at top Ivy League schools, critics have claimed "he's not a teacher, he's a propagandist". People continue to harass him on a daily basis, going so far as to vandalize his property and relentlessly call for his eviction from his New York home. He's been banned from travelling to Israel for 10 years, infamously made a slew of different remarks in defense of Hezbollah, and travelled throughout Lebanon and the Occupied Territories on a speaking tour (any Jew reading this will understand the gravity of that gesture).Next Wednesday, February 16, Dr. Norman Finkelstein will be making an appearance in Toronto at York University in an event called "Israel, Palestine and the Muslim World: Where are we headed?" You can click
right here to check out more info on this event, and some similar ones in other areas of the country.
Anyways, I continue to observe this fascinating man with a vigilence. His opposing sides are highlighted very well in the documentary "American Radical: The Trials of Norman Finkelstein".
HERE, is perhaps one of my favourite clips because I think its such an accurate portrayal of who this brilliant man is:
Scattered Thoughts about Egypt
Hours turned to days, then days now to weeks. I sat by watching, my mind eager to SNATCH any new breakthroughs or information. My energy went from being fully devoted to listening to the stories from the front lines, to feeling weary and almost wishing the entire situation would just end.
I've had trouble eating and sleeping, and have obsessively spent my time flipping between CNN and BBC, to getting live streams of Al Jazeera online. It borders on hysteria.
I've Youtubed the same videos over and over, marched with hundreds of Torontonians for 2 Saturdays in a row, and have relentlessly pounded my cousin with questions about what its REALLY like down there.
I've engaged in debates, explained what was happening to anybody who will listen, and brushed up on historical accounts of the power struggle that has ailed my country for decades.
I'm tired.
The other day, I scolded myself for feeling this way. I thought "What on earth gives YOU the right to feel weary and over-informed when these heroes are out there on the streets, determined to find an end that can satisfy them?!?"
But am I really wrong for needing a break from all this overexposure? Have I betrayed my country and fellow Egyptians every time I've given a half-assed answer to people's questions in order to avoid launching into a full conversation?
----
I'm at the point where I can look back at the full range of emotions and ideas I've had since January 25, and almost pinpoint the days when my attitude went from an excited, curious, hopeful observer, to a weary, almost paranoid bystander who got sucked into a dramatic scenario unwillingly.
I remember feeling, albeit selfishly, PROUD and EXCITED that my country was making headline news. For once in my 21 years in Toronto, people recognized the flag on my bag. For once, I could head downtown and find hundreds of other supporters of the Egyptian people, speaking my language, sharing my vision for the future of our homeland.
And I ate it right up. I stayed glued to CNN, collected any newspaper headlines (most, making front-page) about Egypt, and shared videos via my page.
It wasn't until the 5th or so day that I began questioning the over-saturated coverage. WHY was CNN (which has, in the process, became the manifested representation of Americans for me) so deliberately covering every nuance and detail of the unfolding "crisis" as they put it? WHY could I now pick up any newspaper, conservative or mainstream, and see the word "dictator" beside Hosni Mubarak's name?
I've always been a firm believer in a lot of conspiracy theories. But with the relentless, almost "Big-Brother"-like involvement of the US in everything that has transpired since the fateful day in January, I've taken an unhealthy approach to the apparent American conspiracy being played out in front of us.
How could people be sooo eager to listen to Obama's statements about Mubarak and the protestors, when Mubarak himself (the man at the centre of this drama) hadn't even made an attempt to comment. How could American diplomats and Israeli power-houses continue to taint the mainstream opinion- to demonize the protestors and insist that Mubarak is a pillar of stability in the region.
Could millions of people- some on the streets, some unable to go public with their feelings after experiencing a brutally repressive regime for decades- be wrong?
Are Egyptians, Arabs, Middle-Easterners- are they all too stupid to choose who they would like to represent their state? Is the right to self-determination reserved for Western countries whose political representatives are nothing but mere puppets of the same system?
Is it really a crime to demand that your country undergo a period of restoration?
I've absorbed CNN with an almost sadistic pleasure. I hate the way they make us look on TV. I resent the images of people fighting off men on horseback, burning pictures and flags- this is merely a snapshot of a situation that the rest of the world wants to dismiss as black-and-white, ignoring the multi-faceted colours emerging with every new image, testimony, story of a protestor's disappearance, or minute "change" in the government. These all help tell the story of a country, a people, torn between the lives they have come to know and the unpredictable, intimidating change that "threatens" to swoop in.
But I love seeing my country on there...
I've had trouble eating and sleeping, and have obsessively spent my time flipping between CNN and BBC, to getting live streams of Al Jazeera online. It borders on hysteria.
I've Youtubed the same videos over and over, marched with hundreds of Torontonians for 2 Saturdays in a row, and have relentlessly pounded my cousin with questions about what its REALLY like down there.
I've engaged in debates, explained what was happening to anybody who will listen, and brushed up on historical accounts of the power struggle that has ailed my country for decades.
I'm tired.
The other day, I scolded myself for feeling this way. I thought "What on earth gives YOU the right to feel weary and over-informed when these heroes are out there on the streets, determined to find an end that can satisfy them?!?"
But am I really wrong for needing a break from all this overexposure? Have I betrayed my country and fellow Egyptians every time I've given a half-assed answer to people's questions in order to avoid launching into a full conversation?
----
I'm at the point where I can look back at the full range of emotions and ideas I've had since January 25, and almost pinpoint the days when my attitude went from an excited, curious, hopeful observer, to a weary, almost paranoid bystander who got sucked into a dramatic scenario unwillingly.
I remember feeling, albeit selfishly, PROUD and EXCITED that my country was making headline news. For once in my 21 years in Toronto, people recognized the flag on my bag. For once, I could head downtown and find hundreds of other supporters of the Egyptian people, speaking my language, sharing my vision for the future of our homeland.
And I ate it right up. I stayed glued to CNN, collected any newspaper headlines (most, making front-page) about Egypt, and shared videos via my page.
It wasn't until the 5th or so day that I began questioning the over-saturated coverage. WHY was CNN (which has, in the process, became the manifested representation of Americans for me) so deliberately covering every nuance and detail of the unfolding "crisis" as they put it? WHY could I now pick up any newspaper, conservative or mainstream, and see the word "dictator" beside Hosni Mubarak's name?
I've always been a firm believer in a lot of conspiracy theories. But with the relentless, almost "Big-Brother"-like involvement of the US in everything that has transpired since the fateful day in January, I've taken an unhealthy approach to the apparent American conspiracy being played out in front of us.
How could people be sooo eager to listen to Obama's statements about Mubarak and the protestors, when Mubarak himself (the man at the centre of this drama) hadn't even made an attempt to comment. How could American diplomats and Israeli power-houses continue to taint the mainstream opinion- to demonize the protestors and insist that Mubarak is a pillar of stability in the region.
Could millions of people- some on the streets, some unable to go public with their feelings after experiencing a brutally repressive regime for decades- be wrong?
Are Egyptians, Arabs, Middle-Easterners- are they all too stupid to choose who they would like to represent their state? Is the right to self-determination reserved for Western countries whose political representatives are nothing but mere puppets of the same system?
Is it really a crime to demand that your country undergo a period of restoration?
I've absorbed CNN with an almost sadistic pleasure. I hate the way they make us look on TV. I resent the images of people fighting off men on horseback, burning pictures and flags- this is merely a snapshot of a situation that the rest of the world wants to dismiss as black-and-white, ignoring the multi-faceted colours emerging with every new image, testimony, story of a protestor's disappearance, or minute "change" in the government. These all help tell the story of a country, a people, torn between the lives they have come to know and the unpredictable, intimidating change that "threatens" to swoop in.
But I love seeing my country on there...
03 February 2011
Power is revealed only by striking true
“ Power is not revealed by striking hard or often, but by striking true.”
- Honore de Balzac
I’ve been examining the whole situation (for lack of an adequate word) going on in Egypt with a bit of divided perspective. On the one hand, I feel the way I’ve felt since my 2010 visit- the moment I first saw a civil protest in Cairo’s main downtown square (ironically “Liberation Square”-Tahrir in Arabic). That I’d grown up largely listening to my father’s own memories of living in a repressed, paranoid military state probably led me to feel as awed and curious as I did when I saw the demonstration.
Here was a country in which anti-government opinion was strictly restricted from all media. A country filled with stories of police aggression- some made notorious (like the apparent brutal 2010 murder of blogger Khaled by Egyptian police), and some only whispered amongst terrified neighbours when nobody’s listening.
And these are just things my generation and I have been exposed to as the country’s 30-year “state of emergency” remains.
To fully understand the scope of today's Egypt would mean diving into my father’s memories, and those of the generations before him who lived to see numerous wars, an independence from the British, instability throughout the entire region, and a military revolution.
But that last point is one of the most fascinating, to me, and has been for as long as I remember.
Growing up I would listen, stunned, to my father nostalgically, and more importantly, proudly recount the story of how Colonel Nasser and some other important military figures overtook the British-led monarchy and installed their own Egyptian leaders. It was as if he, like every other Egyptian lucky enough to see that proud day, was directly involved in the cause of liberating their country. It wasn’t so much that they were living vicariously through Nasser and his comrades, but living alongside them- when they took over state radio to make the announcement, when they spent countless months planning and re-planning every step without leaving a paper trail, and when they paraded through the same Tahrir Sq. to, again, thousands of people…
From the first reports taken of the protests, to the powerful images surfacing up everyday, the message has been the same- there is an unspoken and strong bond between the Egyptian people and the military. Maybe this is due to the fact that Egypt has a conscription law still in effect- essentially, every male must serve in the military. Thus, the military and the Egyptian citizens are synonymous. Or maybe it has something to do with the history of military operations in their country—indeed, the military leaders at one point created the Egyptian Egypt. That feeling of pride and identity, and knowing what it means to be an Egyptian- and not an Arab, North African, Middle Easterner, etc.- was reinforced by Nasser and the other decorated leaders. Whatever the case, the famous image of the old weeping Egyptian woman kissing the cheek of a young, uniformed Egyptian solider with piercing eyes, perfectly captures that soldier-civilian relationship. However disillusioned the people have become by their government’s strict system of security, they have found a way to embrace their soldiers wholeheartedly.
Which brings me to my main point. Much has been said about Egypt’s current president Hosni Mubarak- he’s a tyrant, a peaceful leader of the region, an incompetent president whose relied on American aid too often, a beacon of stability in the Middle East, a dictator (a label Western news outlets have avidly embraced for the first time), a wealthy, aged power-hungry lunatic, etc. But there hasn’t been much mention of Mubarak’s rise to power and his role in the 1952 Revolution.
Mubarak actually got his background in the military, graduating from the military academy and climbing the ranks to finally become Commander of Egypt's Air Force & Deputy Minister of Defense. In fact, he was rewarded and promoted for his outstanding services in the military during the Sixth of October War. With such noted roles in the military and an intense pilot training past, Mubarak's role in the 1952 Revolution cannot be undermined or ignored.
Maybe thats what continues to draw people like my father (he himself grew up in a military household and dreamed of being a soldier after witnessing the Egyptian Independence Movement) to the aged Mubarak. Ideas like loyalty, death before dishonour, and dying a hero are ones highly valued by people with close ties/sentiments to the military. And as I outlined before, Egyptians really have no choice but to feel this way towards their own soldiers.
That's is why its so difficult for me to maintain an agenda that is 100% compliant with the protestors. Maybe a bit of me relates to the sentiments my father has. Maybe as an Egyptian it's difficult for me to watch one of my own go through this public debacle. Like I said, the issue is grey at best- never black and white. Who will replace Mubarak? How will the USA continue to interfere in Egypt's domestic happenings? If Mubarak is the lesser of 2 evils (the other evil being the Muslim Brotherhood), how can we ask him to step down and instill one of our own? And finally, what about the transition? How will a new government be integrated? Will there be an interim government in the meantime, and if so who decides who that government is? The questions are endless.
However, an important thing separates me from my father and other Egyptian supporters of the regime. I grew up in Canada. This is a country known for promoting it's democratic ideals and a traditionally liberal, capitalistic agenda. We enjoy regular elections, political stability, and (almost always), a transparent government. I, like most other Canadians and even those Bush-electing Americans, can never imagine a system in which we were forced to sit by and watch a leader, who none of us seem to remember electing, continue being in power for 30 plus years. With all opposition prevented from having a voice, its not like an election would do the job anyway.
I can sympathize with those supporters because I know what they want: life, liberty and the freedom to pursue happiness. I know, because living in Canada, I am given those things without ever really facing the threat of losing them...
Maybe thats what continues to draw people like my father (he himself grew up in a military household and dreamed of being a soldier after witnessing the Egyptian Independence Movement) to the aged Mubarak. Ideas like loyalty, death before dishonour, and dying a hero are ones highly valued by people with close ties/sentiments to the military. And as I outlined before, Egyptians really have no choice but to feel this way towards their own soldiers.
That's is why its so difficult for me to maintain an agenda that is 100% compliant with the protestors. Maybe a bit of me relates to the sentiments my father has. Maybe as an Egyptian it's difficult for me to watch one of my own go through this public debacle. Like I said, the issue is grey at best- never black and white. Who will replace Mubarak? How will the USA continue to interfere in Egypt's domestic happenings? If Mubarak is the lesser of 2 evils (the other evil being the Muslim Brotherhood), how can we ask him to step down and instill one of our own? And finally, what about the transition? How will a new government be integrated? Will there be an interim government in the meantime, and if so who decides who that government is? The questions are endless.
However, an important thing separates me from my father and other Egyptian supporters of the regime. I grew up in Canada. This is a country known for promoting it's democratic ideals and a traditionally liberal, capitalistic agenda. We enjoy regular elections, political stability, and (almost always), a transparent government. I, like most other Canadians and even those Bush-electing Americans, can never imagine a system in which we were forced to sit by and watch a leader, who none of us seem to remember electing, continue being in power for 30 plus years. With all opposition prevented from having a voice, its not like an election would do the job anyway.
I can sympathize with those supporters because I know what they want: life, liberty and the freedom to pursue happiness. I know, because living in Canada, I am given those things without ever really facing the threat of losing them...
My sister got me one of those cool day-by-day calendars of Inspiring & Enlightening Quotes. Everyday I rip off a day to reveal some insightful-sometimes ideological, sometimes overly cheesy- advice/knowledge/ideas from different artists, theorists, writers, teachers, etc.
And on January 29, four days after the fateful demonstrations began, I ripped off another day to reveal the insight for that day. The quote was from French novelist Honore de Balzac, and came at such an appropriate time that I was compelled against all laziness to sit down and right this post:
“ Power is not revealed by striking hard or often, but by striking true.”
And, as Hosni Mubarak has learned the hard way over this past week, his hard-struck, often-used power has essentially come to an end. Let's just pray and ensure that whatever future awaits my homeland, there will be eras of truth-revealing power.
Egypt: Nasser to Mubarak
02 February 2011
The Last Pharoah
He is glory and dignity. The cause of the Warrior-President Gamal Abd-Al Nasser and his message and struggle is the cause of each and every Arab from the Atlantic Ocean to the Gulf, whether he be a ruler or an ordinary citizen, because the principles of Abd Al-Nasser are the principles on whose basis our Arab nation is rising up and taking its place in the sun.
The Warrior-President Gamal Abd Al-Nasser devoted his life to the glory of the Arab nation and its unity and dignity, and to expelling the forces of colonialism from all regions of the Arab homeland...[It is Abd Al-Nasser who proclaimed], 'Colonialism should now pick up its walking staff and leave,' 'from now on, there is no place for colonialists, occupiers, and invaders,' and 'this land is Arab, and no flag but that of the Arab nation shall ever fly above it.'
The Warrior-President Gamal Abd Al-Nasser is alive in his nation and in Arab minds, and in the Arab hands that carry his message about Arab liberation, unity and progress. They will never abandon his principles and never lay down the banner that president Abd Al-Nasser raised - a banner that is a lighthouse shedding a bright light for the whole [Arab] nation... he is not a memory but the soul of the Arab nation....
...I say to you with confidence that the Warrior-President Gamal Abd Al-Nasser is with us in the trenches, with us under siege, with us in self-sacrifice [in battle]. [He is with us] with his thought and his manliness, creative spirit, and stature that neither bow nor retreat, no matter how difficult the struggle and how great the sacrifices...
...I say to you with confidence that the Warrior-President Gamal Abd Al-Nasser is with us in the trenches, with us under siege, with us in self-sacrifice [in battle]. [He is with us] with his thought and his manliness, creative spirit, and stature that neither bow nor retreat, no matter how difficult the struggle and how great the sacrifices...
We therefore have no path other than that of steadfastness and sacrifice for the sake of the homeland, the [Arab] nation, and the future. We salute the Warrior-President Gamal Abd Al-Nasser, the lantern shining before the nation and its [future] generations. The warrior Gamal Abd Al-Nasser - the president, the commander, the leader, the pioneer - is alive in our midst and in our [future] generations. He has not died and shall never die. Peace and God's mercy and blessings be upon you."
- Yasser Arafat
(delivering a euolgy on the 33rd anniversary of Nasser's death)
- Yasser Arafat
(delivering a euolgy on the 33rd anniversary of Nasser's death)
29 January 2011
Egypt's "People's Revolution" comes to Toronto
I've been so caught up trying to find out all the information that I can about the current movement taking place in Egypt right now.
I've been flicking through mainstream news channels, searching for independent media sources, and clicking away at various websites.
Today, I was very excited to take part in Toronto's own show of solidarity with the Egyptian protestors.
People started gathering at Dundas Square (Yonge & Dundas, Downtown Toronto) well before 2:00, the hour the demonstration was slated to start in.
I was definitely feeling the crowd's energy-which by some reports, numbered over 600 at some points. I instantly had an overwhelming sense of pride as I watched people of all ethinicites chant along in the crowds. I wore my huge Egyptian flag proudly, and just took in the collective force that I swear I felt.
Snapped some of these photos before my battery died:
I've been flicking through mainstream news channels, searching for independent media sources, and clicking away at various websites.
Today, I was very excited to take part in Toronto's own show of solidarity with the Egyptian protestors.
People started gathering at Dundas Square (Yonge & Dundas, Downtown Toronto) well before 2:00, the hour the demonstration was slated to start in.
I was definitely feeling the crowd's energy-which by some reports, numbered over 600 at some points. I instantly had an overwhelming sense of pride as I watched people of all ethinicites chant along in the crowds. I wore my huge Egyptian flag proudly, and just took in the collective force that I swear I felt.
Snapped some of these photos before my battery died:
14 January 2011
Freedom Vs. Tyranny in the land of the pharaohs...
"No cause is left but the most ancient of all, the one, in fact, that from the beginning of our history has determined the very existence of politics, the cause of freedom versus tyranny."
(Hannah Arendt)Some weeks ago, I was googling (as I regularly do) news stories from my home land of Egypt. One particular story that kept coming up was about Kareem Amer, a blogger from Egypt who was imprisoned for such crimes as "insulting" the president. As a blogger and writer myself, and someone who has spent her summers in Egypt since a young age, you can understand why this particular story spoke to me.
Kareem Amer, a former law student, was released from Egyptian jail in November after being imprisoned for 4 years. He was the first Egyptian convicted specifically for his writing online, a trend that has been on the rise as the internet becomes more accessible and citizens grow increasingly weary with the critical political situation. Kareem was convicted of publishing "anti-Islamic" writing, and posts meant to incite insurrection against the government. Amongst his charges, he also got one year for referring to President Hosni Mubarak as a dictator (which, by any real standards, he is). Kareem has been on the radar of Egyptian authorities since 2005, when he was first arrested for his posts, and his writings were confiscated and destroyed. He was also booted out Al-Azhar University for criticizing some of his professors. Aside from the fact that he was first illegally detained and assaulted while in police custody awaiting the most recent trial, his experiences in the prison have been less than pleasant. Anybody who knows anything about state force and authority in countries like Egypt understands how devastating and life-changing a term in prison can be. Abuse at the hands of police and prison guards, all-out neglect, dangerous living conditions and torture/illegal interrogations are all routine things prisoners must deal with in these countries.
During the trial period, Prosecution lawyer Mohamed Dawoud was quoted as saying:
"I want him [Amer] to get the toughest punishment...I am on a jihad here ... If we leave the likes of him without punishment, it will be like a fire that consumes everything."
Safely writing from my desk at home about anything from politics, to anti-government policies is such a common practice over on this side of the world. In fact, from an early age we're encouraged to think for ourselves, to question what's around us, and to express dismay when a government we the people have elected is not working for the people at all. Every empire has been founded on rebellion, revolution, or political dissent.
So imagine living in a country in which your basic human freedom to express how you think and feel is punishable, sometimes even by death*...
(*Note: if you've been paying attention to an global news over the past year or so, you will have surely come across stories of activists, writers, and bloggers who have been killed from the crime of having a different opinion. Just this past summer when I was visiting the city of Alexandria in Egypt, I was shocked to learn of blogger Khaled Saeed who was brutally beaten to death by 2 police officers in front of a crowded Internet cafe. In case you're wondering, amid angry protests and photos published of the victim's fatal injuries, both officers were released.)
14 December 2010
the paradox of war
"When the fighters are all around,
All the lovers are on the ground..."
(Lupe Fiasco)
08 December 2010
The Secret Trial 5
Last night I had the pleasure of attending my friend Amar Wala's website release for a film he's currently producing under working title "The Secret Trial 5".
"The Secret Trial 5 is a new crowdfunded documentary that examines the human impact of Canada’s “war on terror”; specifically the use of security certificates, a tool that allows for indefinite detention, with no charges, and secret evidence. Over the last decade, 5 men have been held under security certificates in Canada. They spent between 2 and 7 years in prison each. None of them was ever charged with a crime."
(http://secrettrial5.com)
Amar, who is producing and directing the documentary, is an award-winning filmmaker from Toronto. His short film, The Good Son captures the story of a young Egyptian refugee who is asked to translate for his father as CSIS (Canadian Securities and Intelligence Services) officers interrogate him in their home. The film is based on the true story of Mahmoud Jaballah, who is one of the subjects of the upcoming Secret Trial 5; it has been screened and awarded at various festivals worldwide.
Now, the amazing part of this entire project (other than the fact that it brings to light a Canadian issue which is largely hidden and ignored), is the crowdfunding part. "Crowd-funding describes the collective cooperation, attention and trust by people who network and pool their money together, usually via the Internet, in order to support efforts initiated by other people or organizations. Crowdfunding occurs for any variety of purposes, from disaster relief to citizen journalism to artists seeking support from fans, to political campaigns." (wikipedia). And, it shall work for this film.
Please click here to donate to this project. There's a great little breakdown of how all the funds will be allotted, and a list of the benefits you get with each donated amount. You can be a part of important decisions like the movie title, movie poster design, etc.
And make sure you visit the website in the mean time. You'll be able to watch The Good Son, keep tabs on the production, visit their blogs, and learn more about security certificates. That great little animation ^^ is nothing compared to the rest of the site :).
11 September 2010
9/11
I remember being jostled awake frantically, and opening my mouth to protest, only to shut it again as soon as the pilot's voice came back over the speaker to confirm what he had announced moments earlier. I remember the utter confusion, the dazed expressions of everyone around me, trying to make any sense of what they had all just learned. I remember watching dozens of my fellow passengers rush to the nearest TV as we landed back at the airport. I remember stopping in my tracks and finally noticing the hundreds of conversations simultaneously taking place around me- the grief, disbelief, and perplexion I could hear buzzing all around me. But most of all I remember the silence. The hush that slowly fell through the crowd around me- some with their eyes glued to the TV screens, some with disoriented expressions still trying to understand what was happening, and some simply comforting a silently-weeping friend, relative, stranger...
And in the days to follow, I remember witnessing kinship, selflessness and an overall sense of "coming together" that my 11-year-old mind had rarely got to glimpse before. I remember the blankets being shared all around, the smiling, reassuring faces of airport staff, and quite simply, just the very act of "being there for one another" that everyone seemed to be actively participating in.
On September 10, 2001 my family and I boarded a late flight from Cairo, Egypt to Amsterdam for what we assumed was a routine stopover before continuing out journey back to Toronto. On September 11, while en route from Amsterdam to Toronto, throngs of eager fliers, myself included, were interrupted mid-flight by the voice of a confused pilot. He announced that "due to some attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York City, the airspace over North America has been 'closed'", forcing us to turn around and reroute back to Amsterdam. Just like that. Matter-of-factly, but in a way that suggested there was actually an overall lack of any facts. For the next few hours, strangers from all walks of life who surrounded me, joined me in annoyance and confusion as we tried to recollect what had just happened, and plot how they could carry on their plans despite this disturbance to their schedule. I think I may have actually been upset that I would miss yet another day in "Back-to-School" week.
It was only hours later, when we finally landed after what seemed like the longest flight I had been on, did the confusion give way to shock, horror, disgust and disbelief. Who was responsible for this? How did it happen? Was anything else happening that we didn't know of? What would be the global response? Would they catch the bad guys? THESE were just some of questions and thoughts that popped in and out of everyone's mind, while the images of burning towers and crashing planes played over and over again on CNN, which seemed to occupy every TV screen.
This was how I personally experienced September 11. To carry on and retell the rest of my experiences that week- stuck in the airport in a foreign country, contracting a bad liver infection that caused me to wound up in the airport hospital, and eating those god-awful ham and apricot jelly sandwiches- that just seems to overshadow the day itself. The infamous day that caused mass confusion, inestimable grief and loss, and a deep sense of comradery and community. The day that would forever etch itself in history among great wars, life-altering inventions, and revolutions. The day that forced everybody collectively AND individually, to face the reality of time, alter our psyches, look to others for help and condolence, and most of all face ourselves and the truth that only seemed to make itself visible at this time. That, no matter how cliché it sounds, or how hard our parents have tried to drive this notion through our head, time and reality can never actually be measured. That the values, things we've come to "know" about life, and all the reassurances fed to us, are futile and can be irreparably changed at any given moment. And that in the gloomiest, darkest moments when war, pain, and fear run rampant, one only needs to look to his neighbour to find sanity and an anchor again...
And in the days to follow, I remember witnessing kinship, selflessness and an overall sense of "coming together" that my 11-year-old mind had rarely got to glimpse before. I remember the blankets being shared all around, the smiling, reassuring faces of airport staff, and quite simply, just the very act of "being there for one another" that everyone seemed to be actively participating in.
On September 10, 2001 my family and I boarded a late flight from Cairo, Egypt to Amsterdam for what we assumed was a routine stopover before continuing out journey back to Toronto. On September 11, while en route from Amsterdam to Toronto, throngs of eager fliers, myself included, were interrupted mid-flight by the voice of a confused pilot. He announced that "due to some attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York City, the airspace over North America has been 'closed'", forcing us to turn around and reroute back to Amsterdam. Just like that. Matter-of-factly, but in a way that suggested there was actually an overall lack of any facts. For the next few hours, strangers from all walks of life who surrounded me, joined me in annoyance and confusion as we tried to recollect what had just happened, and plot how they could carry on their plans despite this disturbance to their schedule. I think I may have actually been upset that I would miss yet another day in "Back-to-School" week.It was only hours later, when we finally landed after what seemed like the longest flight I had been on, did the confusion give way to shock, horror, disgust and disbelief. Who was responsible for this? How did it happen? Was anything else happening that we didn't know of? What would be the global response? Would they catch the bad guys? THESE were just some of questions and thoughts that popped in and out of everyone's mind, while the images of burning towers and crashing planes played over and over again on CNN, which seemed to occupy every TV screen.
This was how I personally experienced September 11. To carry on and retell the rest of my experiences that week- stuck in the airport in a foreign country, contracting a bad liver infection that caused me to wound up in the airport hospital, and eating those god-awful ham and apricot jelly sandwiches- that just seems to overshadow the day itself. The infamous day that caused mass confusion, inestimable grief and loss, and a deep sense of comradery and community. The day that would forever etch itself in history among great wars, life-altering inventions, and revolutions. The day that forced everybody collectively AND individually, to face the reality of time, alter our psyches, look to others for help and condolence, and most of all face ourselves and the truth that only seemed to make itself visible at this time. That, no matter how cliché it sounds, or how hard our parents have tried to drive this notion through our head, time and reality can never actually be measured. That the values, things we've come to "know" about life, and all the reassurances fed to us, are futile and can be irreparably changed at any given moment. And that in the gloomiest, darkest moments when war, pain, and fear run rampant, one only needs to look to his neighbour to find sanity and an anchor again...
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