“La Cour”

Daisy McCabe-Lokos, who is interning with MRG’s dynamic Legal Cases Programme, reports back from a trip to the European Court of Human Right.

Sitting in the front row of the ultra-modern, ultra-Euro styled, Grand Chamber, I couldn’t help but agree with what another legal intern sitting next to me exclaimed, “When they say Grand, they’re not messing around!”. The panel of seventeen judges, each from a member state of the Council of Europe, entered in through double doors to our left in what seemed like an endless procession of dark blue robes and stark-white collars. They were preceded not only by a man who had been charged with the duty to declare “La Cour!”, but also by a jarring primary school recess bell indicating that it was time for us to rise for the Justices.

Once the bench sat down in the “UN Blue” upholstered office chairs that filled the room, we did too. Immediately I surveyed the members of the bench. To my dismay my Xeroxed seating chart did not match up to their real life seated positions. I knew this because as I made my initial survey I noticed that out of seventeen judges only four were women, and I was pretty confident that one of them was not named Egbert. I also noticed that there was a shortage, in fact a total absence, of visible minorities on the bench.

Having come from University of Windsor Faculty of Law in Canada, a school whose flagship phrase is “Access to Justice”, I have studied, queried and debated the existence (or lack thereof) of both formal and substantive equality in the Canadian legal system times over. The first female appointee to the Canadian Supreme Court, Madam Justice Bertha Wilson, asked in 1990: “Will women judges really make a difference?”. In the case of the ECHR bench this is a question that could be extended to include many minority group members who may feel underrepresented at the highest Court in Europe.

Considering the substance of the case at bar on June 3rd, equality was a pertinent issue in the court that day; not only for me. It is our hope at MRG that the work has paid off, that the intense collaborative efforts made by all those involved will heed the optimum outcome. Sejdić and Finci v. Bosnia and Herzegovina holds promise to spur the amendment of an entire state constitution; to condemn discrimination and embrace real formal and substantive equality in the highest decision making bodies of the state. The question remains, can the Court do the same?

Blatant discrimination in Bosnia and Herzogovina challenged at European Court

John Thompson, who is interning with MRG’s Legal Cases Programme, visits the European Court of Human Rights to observe a landmark case.

Today, I attended the hearing of Sejdić and Finci v. Bosnia and Herzegovina (no. 27996/06 and 34836/06) before the Grand Chamber of the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR).  It was an incredible experience to see the Grand Chamber in action.  Mr. Finci and Mr. Sejdić are Jewish and Roma respectively, and, under the current constitution of Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH), the applicants do not have the right to stand for political office in some of the highest positions in the country.  These positions are reserved for Bosniak, Croat, and Serb ethnic groups under the power-sharing agreement of the 1995 Dayton Peace Accords.

The international community has unanimously spoken and condemned it as systematically discriminatory.  One thing that strikes me about the case is how incredibly blatant the ethnic/racial discrimination is.  It is hard to imagine how it has persisted for so long.  Even American Vice President Biden recently stated in a speech delivered to the BiH people that the country “requires an electoral process that does not exclude any ethnic group.”

It was a true pleasure to be able to visit the Court.  I am a firm believer in the missions of European institutions and in the need of the entire world community to support them.  However, there seems to be a large disconnect between the European institutions and the citizens of Europe.  Many individuals do not even consider themselves European, and some feel that the EU and the ECtHR are sapping national power and creating a wealthy bureaucracy that contributes little to member state’s prosperity.  I acknowledge that European bodies must address the top down, rubber stamp approach that alienates many citizens, but, at the same time, I ardently believe in the utter necessity to improve and promote these institutions, despite their weaknesses and the cultural and social differences between member states.

Although a Londoner and a Slovak citizen might feel as if they have nothing in common, on the contrary, they face an interconnected future and they depend on one another.  This continent has seen too much bloodshed over the last century, and it is up to the institutions of Europe to promote the ideals of democracy, justice, and dialogue in order to avoid the mistakes of the past.  It was a blessing to visit a Court that is making progress towards a better future for the whole of Europe.

Re-branding Persia

Today, the world is watching as Iranians come out to vote in the presidential elections. MRG’s production editor, Kristen Harrison, suggests the country is in need of some good PR.

Iran is a country desperate for change, not just in terms of the lives of individuals but in terms of its relationship with the outside world. Ayetollah Khomenei’s Islamic revolution 30 years ago was – in the eyes of many Westerners – the start of a downhill slide for Iran’s PR . This was not just a political or religious revolution, it was a cultural revolution that would fundamentally change how the rest of the world perceived the country. Iran went from being seen as a Persian paradise – full of art, history, culture and romance – to being seen as an oppressive society full of censorship, political scarring and angry, grumpy people. Now, to be sure, Iranians suffered greatly under the Shah and there are many who strongly support the Islamic government. And Iranian minorities have suffered discrimination under both regimes. Nevertheless, we need reminding that Iran is still that Persian paradise.

The problem for Iran is the vast divide between its people and its leadership. A rich, colourful world exists but it’s wrapped in a bubble of political and religious rule that prevents anyone from seeing in or out. I recently spent 10 days holidaying in Iran and what was most surprising was the complete disjuncture between my preconceptions and the reality. In no way is Iran intimidating. In no way is Iran dangerous for tourists. In no way is Iran full of miserable, silenced women. In no way is Iran an impenetrable country. I have never visited a country where such warmth just springs from the souls of people. Everywhere we went people wanted to talk to us, take us home and feed us, introduce us to their parents, show us off to friends and proffer all manner of hospitalities. After initial feelings of suspicion (why on earth are they being so nice?) we realised their motivations were completely altruistic. They just  wanted us, as foreigners, to enjoy their beautiful country.

What more can I say. I hope Iran’s future involves bridging the gap between the citizens of the country, the government, and the outside world. It is a country to be embraced, not feared. Here are a few photos to
illustrate some of what Iran is really about. But please, go and see for yourself.

Oh, and on that issue of re-branding, perhaps a return to the name “Persia” is a place to start.

The roof of Jameh Mosque in Esfahan, showing the beautiful geometric designs that persian buildings are famous for.

Azadi (meaning ‘freedom’) monument in Teheran, built in 1971 (pre-revolution) to commemorate the 2500th anniversary of the Persian empire.

The roof of a traditional Iranian restaurant in Esfahan.

This group of schoolboys were keen to practice their English with us.

Sour plums. Popular with Iranians but… well… an acquired taste.

Jameh Mosque in Esfahan was one of the highlights with its impressive architectural symmetry and use of light.

Fatima’s mum is teaching her English. She is 4 years old and can already count to 23.

An example of true architectural genius. These wind towers act as airconditioners to cool the houses in Yazd, a desert city. Why oh why haven’t we adopted this technique?

The flame at this sacred Zoroastrian site has been burning for 1250 years.

Motorbikes are everywhere, even in these narrow backstreets of Yazd.

A now abandoned Zoroastrian village on the outskirts of Yazd.

The nightlife in Teheran is buzzing and it is also very civilized, alcohol-free and family-friendly. This carload are heading to one of the many packed local parks to enjoy an evening picnic.

Your average intersection in Teheran demonstrating another of Iran’s contradictions: all the lovely, warm people turn into maniacs behind the wheel of a car.

An 83-year-old rollerblader in Laleh Park, Teheran.

mmmm… spices.

Pol Bridge, Esfahan.

Zayandeh river in Esfahan is currently experiencing a serious drought.

Pictures on the wall show famous Zurkhaneh athletes. Zurkhaneh is the national sport of Iran and is accompanied by a man with a large drum who sings poetry. Amazing to watch.

These girls enjoy a dip in the main fountain of Imam Square, Esfahan.

An man leaves a market in Esfahan laden with mysterious empty bottles.

Durban Review Conference – Geneva

Paul Mulindwa

Paul Mulindwa, MRG’s Africa Project Officer based in Kampala, Uganda, reports back from the Durban Review Conference in Geneva

Having come from Uganda representing Minority Rights Group and the work they do in Africa, I was especially excited to attend this conference because it was obvious how significant it could be. Many other NGOs clearly felt the same – the amount attending the event in total reached 417. Accreditation was made much simpler than usual for the UN, the loose vetting procedure being testimony to the non-discriminatory ethos of the conference. There were also over 80 national human rights institutions and the attendance of most respective member states, apart from a select few (Italy, Netherlands, Poland, German, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, USA, and Israel) who snubbed the event from the outset.

There was a general feeling of optimism during the opening ceremonies and speeches, the Secretary General’s words particularly resonating: after decades of advocacy across the world, racism still persists. Less welcome was the subsequent speech of President Ahmedinejad in what seemed an attempt to hijack the universal nature of the Durban Review and turn it into a dispute about relations between Israel and the Middle East, a trend highlighted by Minority Rights Group identified in 2001. This controversy meant that the following two days were somewhat dominated by issues to do with Israel and the Middle East, this in turn having an effect on the Western press coverage of the event. While after time the conference gained perspective and focus, it wasn’t until much later that I heard any substantial discussion on the Durban Declaration and Program of Action (DDPA) – the conference’s most action-orientated document that proposes concrete measures to combat racism, discrimination, xenophobia and related intolerance. The DDPA addresses a wide range of issues and is especially important because it embodies the firm commitment of the international community to tackle racism. It also recognizes, like the Secretary General, that no country can claim to be free of racism, that racism is a global concern and that tackling it should be a universal effort.

The conference was organized in such a way that there were many side events, performances and plenary taking place at the same time. MRG’s Mark Lattimer introduced an event 9 addressing discrimination against Muslims in counter-terror measures, alongside various other cultural events, shows and displays. The most significant of these for me was a forum called Voices 9 that provided a platform for individuals from diverse backgrounds to share their experiences and give a human face to issues addressed by the conference. Listening to the testimonies of these people the magnitude of the discrimination across the world became tangible, as I listened to the individual stories of Albinos, women in Nigeria, Aborigines in Australia…

The general outlay of the conference and the presentations and documents available showed that the conference was indeed overdue and necessary. It was clear that the Human Rights Council – its special procedures, mechanisms and relevant treaty bodies –thoroughly incorporated the 2001 Durban Declaration and Program of Action into its work. Although the DDPA is not legally binding, it has a strong moral value and serves as a basis for advocacy efforts worldwide. So probably the most important dilemma now will be making the three follow-up mechanisms it created more effective.

The conference was encouraging and I am optimistic that if similar conferences could take place more often, with member governments respecting and fulfilling the obligations stated in the outcome document, in particular adopting the legislation ensuring the right to equality and non-discrimination, and providing adequate remedies and reparations for the victims of racial discrimination, a real difference could be made.

Discovering Kathmandu and a vision for the future of Nepal

Cecile Clerc, MRG’s Head of Fundraising, is in Nepal for a meeting with MRG partner organisations to design a new programme to fight discrimination against Dalit women.

Asia seems to be a popular destination with MRG staff lately. A few weeks ago, my colleague Emma was in India and this time, Kathryn, our Gender and Advocacy Coordinator and I have landed in Nepal.

We are in Kathmandu for a couple of days to meet with MRG’s main in-country partners (FEDO and DNF) and discuss the possibility of designing a new programme focussing on fighting against the discrimination experienced by Dalit women and girls.

While waiting to go through immigration and medical checks (yes the spectrum of swine flu has reached Asia too) I look through the windows of the airport and see a clear blue sky, tall mountains in the horizon… My first impression of the country is of quietness and tranquility.

And then we leave the airport… and everything changes!

No more peace… motorbikes, human beings, cars, buses…even cows share the road. Clearly there is no space for everyone. I close my eyes for most of the trip and decide that I’ll admire the surroundings on my way back to the airport when I’m a little more familiar with the traffic.

At the hotel, we meet with Durgha, Director of FEDO. She wants to make sure that everything is fine and that we will be ready for the meeting which starts the following day. We are.

Patan Durbar Square

Before nightfall we go for a walk up to Patan Durbar Square, a monumental area well known for its architectural heritage (particularly Buddhist temples), recognized by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

We also experience a few electricity cuts, which are very usual apparently. I go to bed looking forward to meeting our partners tomorrow.

The reason for the powercuts

This morning 17 Dalit activists (15 women and 2 men) from all across Nepal have joined us for the meeting.

The first session is about discussing the issues faced by Dalit women and girls in the country in order for us to get a better grasp of the situation.

To our question, “What do you consider to be the main challenges faced by Dalit women in Nepal?” the immediate shouted answer is “Lack of political participation!” To be honest, I didn’t expect it. I was thinking maybe poverty, illiteracy, violence… But then, discussing with partners during the meeting, I realise that this is a true reflection of how Nepali society is – very politically aware and engaged. The work of the Constituent Assembly is seen by many and especially by Dalits, who are the most economically, socially and politically excluded, as a major opportunity to for the protection and recognition of their rights.

Unsurprisingly, they want to work with MRG on encouraging Dalit womens’ political participation from local to national level. They feel that once Dalit women are able to participate in the decision–making processes that influence their lives, they will be able to advocate for an improvement of their situation. Clearly, much needs to be done.

Our partners talk about the discrimination faced by Dalit women, both within and outside their community. Their extreme poverty; their lack of access to education; the physical violence they experience; the increasing trafficking of Dalit women and girls across the region for prostitution and/or illegal employment.

The list of abuses and denial of rights is long.

Nepali Dalit women at MRG meeting

But the activists are clearly not afraid by the task ahead. Ideas are exchanged on how best to work on the specific issue of political participation. Quickly, we have a strategy in place (which MRG’s Fundraising Team will then have to sell to donors in order to get the necessary funding in place to implement the work). Sometimes I wish some of the potential donors could have joined us. There was so much hope, motivation and dedication in the activists’ voices and eyes that it was truly inspirational.

I thought I’d end this blog by sharing with you two visions of the future of the Dalit movement in Nepal…

At the end of our event, one of the women who actively participated in the meeting introduced us to her daughter. She had travelled with her to attend the event and we had arranged childcare. This is a practice we welcome at MRG and always try to facilitate: women should never be prevented from participating in meetings because of childcare obligations. The little girl is funny and smiling. I joke with her mum asking if her daughter is already learning the ropes of activism. She smiled and answered quietly, “I hope that by the time she is my age, she won’t have to campaign to ensure that Dalit women are not discriminated against. I hope by that time we will be treated equally to the rest of the Nepali citizens.”

One evening during our stay, we were invited for dinner at Durgha’s house. Durgha is the Director of FEDO, a very active and professional Dalit organization which campaigns for an improvement of the situation of Dalits in Nepal. Durgha is well known in the country but also internationally and you could almost say she is famous! During dinner she tells us that not long ago her daughter was asked at school to write about what she would do when she grew up. A classic question. Her answer was not quite so typical… “To be a Dalit, because there is no shame to be a Dalit”. And she gave the example of her Mum, of her great work and engagement with the community.

I wonder if this could be the future of Nepal? A country where Dalit men and women are not discriminated against anymore because of their community? A country where they are proud to be Dalit?

Cambodia’s Genocide Tribunals

Thirty years after the collapse of the Khmer Rouge government in Cambodia, responsible for the killing of up to 2 million innocent people, the trial has begun in Phnom Penh of one of its most notorious cadres. Farrah Tek, a Cambodian-American studying at the University of Mary Washington, who has recently finished an internship with MRG in London, explains the significance of this trial for Cambodians.

When I was growing up my Mom would tell me stories about how when she was just 10 years old, Khmer Rouge soldiers forced her to work in the fields from sunrise to sunset under the scorching sun whilst leeches fed on her legs. She was not allowed any breaks, was given only one meal a day and went to bed missing her parents and seven siblings, from whom she was separated as part of the policy of the communist regime.  She said it felt like “forever” and never thought it would end.  Luckily the end did finally come – four years later in 1979, when the Khmer Rouge regime under the notorious Pol Pot was ousted following a Vietnamese invasion.

Under the horrifying reign of Pol Pot, about a third of the Cambodian population was killed under a systematic policy of torture, execution, starvation, and forced labor – these included minorities, such as the Muslim Chams, Vietnamese and Christians.

For nearly thirty years after the fall of the regime, the leaders of the Khmer Rouge lived freely amongst their victims. Even Pol Pot himself initially lived an ordinary life unpunished, only being placed under house arrest after executing Son Sen, his right-hand man and one of the leaders of the Khmer Rouge. For thirty years, survivors have had to learn how to live through their pain and anguish. For thirty years, they have had to confront their dreadful past in order to live an ordinary life.  For thirty years, survivors of the Cambodian genocide have waited for the trial of the remaining perpetrators.

Justice is now a possibility.

A couple of weeks ago, the Cambodian Tribunal underwent its first trial of Kaing Guek Eav, who is more commonly known as Duch.  The Tribunal, officially known as the Extraordinary Chambers of the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC), was established more than three years ago to place the perpetrators of the Khmer Rouge on trial.  As the director of Tuol Sleng, a political prison also known as S-21, Duch was responsible for the death of more than 17,000 innocent people.  He admitted to his crimes last week and asked for the forgiveness of the Cambodian people.  For Cambodians who were affected by the genocide, it is crucial to see the conviction of those responsible for the killings of their family and friends.

Though there has been much written about these human rights violations in Cambodia, there is little known about how badly minorities were affected.  According to my professor in Human Rights, Dr. Gregory Stanton, in his article Seeking Justice in Cambodia, “Muslim Chams and (…) Christians were murdered at a rate higher than ordinary Kampucheans.”  Dr. Stanton’s census showed that the Cham Muslims showed “a mortality of over 50 per cent, whereas in the general population it was around 21 per cent.”  As one of the directors of the Cambodian Genocide Project, he has conducted many interviews with the Cham community in Cambodia, who especially support the Tribunal because they were “victimized more than most groups.”

The Cham were forced to assimilate into Cambodian society, made to eat pork, prohibited from using their own language and coerced into speaking the Khmer language.  In other extreme cases, the Khmer Rouge murdered entire Cham villages.  Dr. Stanton told me of one instance when “an entire Cham village was thrown off a cliff into a deep ravine, where they all died.”  In an article entitled Genocide Unpunished by Ben Kiernan, a professor of International and Area Studies and director of the Genocide Studies Program at Yale University, about 90,000 Muslim Chams were killed after being evacuated from their villages at gunpoint.

Recently, the BBC reported that Cambodian Tribunal staff had been forced to pay bribes in return for their jobs, resulting in international donors suspending funds for the trials.  Some international human rights groups, concerned over the Cambodian government‘s commitment to meet out justice, have called for an international tribunal.  But victims of the Khmer Rouge regime and Cambodians all over the world like me want to see the trial succeed. Cambodians need to see that their own legal system is able to convict human rights violators. That success depends on both the Cambodian officials’ and the UN’s ability to resolve the issues over alleged corruption and instilling the trust needed for international donors to continue funding the Tribunal.

Until then, we’ll just have to wait and see.

In the ghetto…

MRG’s Media Officer, Emma Eastwood, makes a visit to rural Dalit communities in Tamil Nadu and finds that segregation is the norm under India’s caste system.

Today we visited the offices of a Dalit organisation in a busy and bustling market town in Tamil Nadu. The organisation wish to remain anonymous during India’s current tense pre-electoral period – a startling indicator of their fear of reprisals and threats which could prevent them from exercising their voting rights. As we entered the room two women staff members greeted us by placing huge golden garlands, threaded with sweetly smelling seeds said to bring coolness, around our necks and anointed our foreheads with turmeric powder.

Suitably blessed, and although very touched by their gesture, feeling slightly awkward to be sitting in a work meeting with what amounted to a gigantic medallion around our necks, we sat down to hear about the myriad of activities this small organisation carries out in support of Dalit communities throughout northern Tamil Nadu. After hearing about the scope of their work I wondered why two of their members had even bothered coming to the training we’d just held in Chennai – they seemed to be very highly skilled at advocacy from the village council level right up to the UN Committees in Geneva.

One of their main areas of work is to promote grass root level democracy by strengthening local self-governance – in this case meaning the Panchayat Raj village councils. According to reservations (affirmative action) enacted in Indian law, 19.8% of Panchayat Raj representatives must be Dalits and 30% of them must be women. We’d heard about a female, Dalit Panchayat President in a village about an hour’s drive away who was fighting a land rights case on behalf of her community. Eager to show our support, and to see for ourselves the realities faced by rural Dalit communities, we set off towards the village.

Almost 10% of all atrocities registered against Dalits concern conflicts over land; although the Tamil Nadu government has decreed that all Dalit families should have 2 acres of land, 92% of Dalits in the village we’re visiting don’t own land. Three years ago, frustrated by their circumstances, 120 landless Dalit families, who had previously been forced to live 2 to 3 families in the same house, decided to occupy unused village common land. When they later learned that the land had illegally been sold to a real estate company by the dominant caste villagers, the Dalits filed a case before the Chennai High Court and are awaiting a judgment, as well as fighting for title to the land themselves.

Panchayat president in Tamil Nadu (left)

The Panchayat President (far left) – a bold, eloquent woman wearing a bright red and orange sari and flashing gold earrings, tells us she became the president so that she could improve conditions for her people. She seems fearless and at ease representing her community and I can easily imagine her being a fiery advocate for Dalits issues and more than a match for the dominant caste males on the village council.

Conditions in the village are miserable

Conditions in the Dalit village are wretched – no paved roads, no electricity, no school, no sewers and just one water pump for the whole community (provided by a local NGO – access to water is a thorny issue for Dalits who are often prevented from using the same water sources as dominant castes and have to use separate glasses for drinking water in many public places such as schools and workplace canteens, despite this practice being illegal under national law).

We’re given a tour, and despite the driving poverty, they proudly show us the kitchen gardens that supplement their income (most of the villagers are out harvesting dominant caste crops) filled with plump red chillies and tomatoes, their red flesh lustrous amidst the greenery.

Afterwards we meet in a shady, palm-thatched hut and explain MRG’s work in support of minorities. What these people most desire is economic and social progress for their communities – we try to make the link between development and our work in areas such as training and advocacy, media work or blogs like this…..I hope it makes sense.

Our journey takes us on to a second Dalit community through paddy fields being tilled by water buffaloes led by rake-thin men with their longis hitched up. A timeless rural scene, typical throughout the subcontinent. Our car chases a bus with school kids hanging precariously out of the door, glad to be out of class, their ink-splattered shirts signalling the end of exams and April Fool’s Day all rolled into one.

I’ve worked out the logic behind the insane driving technique – if everyone just uses their horn (or ‘sound horn please ok’ as most trucks encourage on their tailgates) to clear the road of dogs, motorcycles, goats, school kids, auto rickshaws, cows and any other obstacle that may cross their paths then a kind of organised chaos prevails and miraculously no one is hurt….

We arrive at a Dalit community on the outskirts of a small hamlet. We know we’re there because the villagers are loudly and proudly proclaiming their presence with a huge billboard of Dalit hero Dr. Ambedkar. The level of segregation is striking….they are in effect living in a ghetto of unmade roads and grass huts, with no latrines and scant electricity. Meanwhile the dominant caste villagers live 200m down the road in mud-walled or brick houses built on paved roads.

Rural Dalit children in Tamil Nadu

We are surrounded by giggling kids. They should have been at the school 5km away but their school bus, which is provided by an NGO, broke down today. So much for India’s obligation to provide the means for every child to receive an education…I suppose the government is too busy putting a man on the moon…or building a nuclear bomb.

The issues are similar to the previous village. The Panchayat President, a tall white-haired man, tells us the community’s problems – lack of land is their chief concern and he also shows us a piece of paper which he says is the complaint he’s just filed to the Ministry of Education about the lack of not only a school bus but also a school in the village.

We say our goodbyes after taking hundreds of photos of the kids and the miserable living conditions they’re forced to live in. As we cross the invisible dividing line between the Dalit quarter and the dominant caste sector of the village, a huge silver snake slithers across the road in front of our car – a fitting metaphor for the blatant segregation typical of India’s age-old caste system, rife not only in this village, but in thousands of others just like it throughout the subcontinent.

India’s unofficial apartheid

Emma Eastwood, MRG’s Media and Events Officer, is in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, training local Dalit organisations on how to use the media to fight caste-based discrimination

As I step out of the sliding doors at Chennai airport I’m greeted not only by a wall of eager faces but also by an invisible wall of wet, sticky heat. Welcome to India in April, the hottest month of the year in the sub-continent, where every waking (and sleeping) moment is a battle against temperatures that seem to wring out your very life energy.

Despite the struggle against the elements, I’m lucky enough to be here with my MRG colleague Kathryn as we’ve been employed by French NGO CCFD to run a training course on advocacy and human rights for Dalit organisations. My task is to teach a session on how to use the media for advocacy and I’ve been busy researching news coverage on Dalit issues in both the national and international media for the last week.

Street scene, Chennai

The Chennai organisation responsible for the impeccable organisation of the training is the Janodayam Social Education Centre, who provide support and rehabilitation for manual scavengers – Dalits who are forced to clean disease-ridden drains and toilets by hand. According to the rigid caste system in India if your parents were manual scavengers then you too are doomed to the same fate (what the UN Convention on the elimination of all forms of racial discrimination calls discrimination based on descent).

Dalit women, who suffer discrimination not just for their caste but also for their gender, make up the bulk of manual scavengers at around 80%. Tuesday 31st March was the date set by the government for manual scavenging to be stopped in Tamil Nadu (although it is already illegal throughout the country) – however Janodayam hold out little hope that this degrading practice will disappear, and continue apace with their work.

Dalit hero Dr Ambedkar

We open the training with a ceremony which involves garlanding a portrait of Dalit hero Dr. Ambedkar, a contemporary of Gandhi involved in the struggle for independence, who was a lawyer and himself a Dalit. He believed that only by destroying the caste system could ‘untouchability’ be destroyed. We light candles in front of the makeshift shrine and Dr Ambedkar remains there for the rest of the week overseeing the activities with his benign gaze.

Despite the fact that the purpose of this course is to look at advocacy solutions to combat discrimination against Dalits, as the first day evolves, it becomes apparent that the participants have a pressing need to express their anger and frustration at the daily injustices and atrocities they face. The list is endless and shocking….

63% of Dalits are illiterate and 80% of Dalit women are illiterate. Discrimination in education is rampant – Dalit girls are forced to sweep floors and clean plates at meal times; Dalit children are segregated during classes and at midday meals; Dalit children are forced to use separate drinking glasses; few teachers are Dalits themselves; poor sanitation and facilities are provided in Dalit school welfare hostels.

Dalit women also suffer religious-sanctioned sexual exploitation. Devadasi literally means God’s female servant, where according to ancient Hindu practice, young pre-pubescent girls are given away in matrimony to a local religious deity. These girls are almost always Dalits and are not allowed to marry, as they are supposedly married to the temple. They ‘serve’ the priests and inmates of the temple and other local men of money and power. The ‘service’ (read sexual satisfaction) given to these men is considered akin to service of God. The Devadasi is dedicated to the service of the temple Deity for life and there is no escape for her – if she wants to escape, society will not accept her.  The Devadasi system is still flourishing in parts of India, especially in the South.

Access to justice is also a pressing issue – Dalits face a multitude of problems from the first stages of filing a complaint to the handing down of judgments. Prasad, from the National Campaign for Dalit Human Rights, tells us of a recent study showing that 20% of police stations don’t even allow Dalits through the front door, and when they do gain entry they face threats to withdraw complaints and repeated psychological pressure to discontinue the process. Cases have been known to take up to 30 years – justice delayed is in fact justice denied…

Many of their frustrations seem to lie in the fact that despite India’s raft of laws, provisions, reservations and schemes in favour of Dalits on economic, social and cultural rights as well as civil and political rights, impunity reigns and implementation of these protections is virtually absent. It is a marvel in itself that these 27 participants have managed to overcome prejudice and discrimination to become well-educated community leaders, lawyers and business people. How do they do it? With an iron will and hope that things will change – the caste system is around 5000 years old and we’re only 50 years into the fight to abolish it – I wonder if the grandchildren of these activists will reap the fruits of their forefathers struggle?

At MRG we’re used to minorities being fiercely protective of their identity, yet for Dalits the case is just the opposite. The impression I receive is that they want to shed the shackles that their identity gives them and escape into anonymity. Conversion to other faiths, such as Christianity and Buddhism, unfortunately doesn’t seem to have given them their longed-for freedom from the caste system – we even hear tales of Christian Dalits being prevented from entering churches.

When I flick through The Hindu, south India’s respected daily newspaper, a closer look at the lonely hearts column confirms my sense of India’s hyper-hierarchical society. Both caste and sub-caste (as well as preferred career of your loved one and skin tone) are painstakingly detailed in almost every entry – it makes for sobering reading….

Participants at the training

For the Sri Lankans attending the training, enjoying a brief respite from their war-torn homeland, the right to life, peace and security seems to be the most vital when we run a session identifying rights violations. Speaking out against the government can mean risking death and courting the media to spread your advocacy message is a distant dream on the island (as evidenced by recent and fatal attacks against journalists).

Yet it’s not all bad – we begin each session with a rousing song, one from each region and language represented, the men bashing out the complicated rhythms on the desktop and the women accompanying in high-pitched voices. By the end of the week the competition is fierce – everyone is vying to sing a song in their mother tongue. Now where’s that traditional London song I keep saved for these occasions….

This land is ours. Well, one day it will be!

Paolo Gerbaudo

Paolo Gerbaudo, ex Production Coordinator at MRG, takes us back to his days as a media trainer with communities in Honduras and tells a story that is relevant for many indigenous people today.

“Our territory is under threat. Whoever lives here knows that they will have to live in a condition of permanent struggle”, says Marcelino Miranda, of Montaña Verde, an indigenous village in Honduras, after the INA (National Agricultural Institute) has once again turned down the villagers’ request for collective ownership of their land.

“We won’t stop now. We are used to this. It’s always the same old story. We will continue to fight.”

Two and a half years have passed since I visited Montaña Verde, an isolated village on the high-plains of the Intibucá region of Honduras and home to the Lencas, the largest indigenous group in the country. I was in the region working as volunteer media trainer for COPINH (Popular Committee of Indigenous People in Honduras) and was organising a journalism workshop for young people in the community. It took us over four hours of walking along narrow mountain paths to reach this remote land of lush woods and carefully cultivated fields overlooking the surrounding plains.

Montaña Verde has been home for more than a century to a settlement of Lencas. These indigenous people, who, during the 500 years since the arrival of Columbus, have been progressively chased away from more fertile low-lying areas, hoped to find refuge in remote locations like Montaña Verde. Unfortunately, the isolation of the region has not proved a sufficient obstacle to avert the greed of big landowners, who often continue to dominate the rural areas of Honduras as though nothing had changed since the colonial times.
Montaña Verde has become an area dominated by illegal logging activities, theft of agricultural products, and invasions by cattle. In particular, a powerful local farmer, based in the nearby city of Gracias, and well connected with the local authorities, has become a real problem for the community. Every year on Christmas day he pushes his huge herd of cattle into Montaña Verde, spelling disaster for the villagers. Their crops are eaten away, their gardens torn down and their houses damaged by the herd.

Lenca milling sugar cane

One day (or at least that’s how the story goes), inspired by the inflamatory sermons of a radical priest, the Lencas of Montaña Verde decided that it was better to expose themselves to violence and repression than to continue to live in misery and despair. They formed an indigenous council to manage their community and organise

self-defense. They dug a deep ditch at the narrow entrance of the valley leading to Montaña Verde and erected a fence on the inner side. They built a bridge and kept a continuous guard at the entrance, to prevent people and cattle from entering their territory without permission.

That winter the people of Montaña Verde could finally celebrate Christmas without the fear of a herd of cattle ravaging their land. Unfortunately, the days of quiet did not last for long. On the night of January 8th 2003, a troop of Cobras – the special forces of the Honduras Army – raided the community. They fired their machine guns against the houses of the village, and ferociously attacked anyone they encountered.

Marcelino Miranda

Before leaving the village they detained Marcelino and Leonardo Miranda, two brothers who had been particularly active in organizing the community against the land invasions. The two brothers were brutally tortured and almost drowned in the river which runs along the path from Montaña Verde to the city of Gracias. They were eventually jailed, with the preposterous charges of murder and land invasion.

The Miranda brothers remained in jail for three years and were soon joined in captivity by three other inhabitants of Montaña Verde, who were arrested in a following raid in April. It was only because of the unwavering support of COPINH and the resonance produced by a campaign for their release waged by Amnesty USA, that the judges would eventually be forced to admit the lack of evidence and release all the prisoners.

When I arrived in Montaña Verde, the community was preparing for a big celebration: the return of Marcelino and Leonardo Miranda from jail. When the local radio spread the news that the brothers had been released from jail and were heading back home, the people of the village decided to prepare a welcome parade. I joined them on their way to a mountain pass where we waited to greet the two brothers with traditional songs and rituals. The night was approaching and looking at the menacing sky we prayed that it wouldn’t rain. It didn’t work.

By the time Marcelino and Leonardo arrived, there was little time left for celebration. A torrential downpour suddenly kicked off and we were soon wading in water up to our knees. Only the light from the fires burning on our pinewood torches allowed us to continue walking through the night without slipping off the track. No amount of wind or rain seemed able to extinguish the flames.

When I think back to the time I spent in Montaña Verde, I am still astonished by the resistance of the torches that tempestuous night which somehow seemed to mirror the perseverance of the Lenca people. Threatened, beaten, unjustly jailed, discriminated against by an unfair bureaucracy; yet convinced that one day the land they inhabit will be theirs, not only symbolically but also “officially”, written in black and white on a collective ownership title sealed by the Honduran state.

The INA, which in Honduras is responsible for assigning land ownership titles, may continue for some time to pull bureaucratic tricks out of its hat and prevent the Lencas defending their land from the greed of big landowners. But the people of Montaña Verde are ready to keep up the pressure, aided and abetted by their proverbial indigenous patience, as well as pinewood torches to illuminate their path in times of tempest.

The open wounds of Iraqi Christians

MRG intern Aimee Griffin attends a church service in London and meets Iraqi Christians in exile in the UK whose dreams of returning to their homeland are rapidly fading.

Aimee Griffin

On a cold Sunday afternoon in December I made my journey to an Iraqi Christian Church service in West London. I was asked to attend the service by Minority Rights Group International to interview Iraqi Christians in London. I wanted to obtain a wider picture of the situation in Iraq for Christians. On my way, I found myself questioning the possibility that faith can get you through the most horrific events.

When I arrived I crept up to the gallery so as not to disturb the mass. As I gazed down, the Deacon (whom I had met previously) smiled up to me and I felt welcomed. Although I did not fully understand the ceremony, surrounded by the warmth of hymns and the awed concentration of the congregation, I could not help being touched by the service. I now understood the answer to my question: faith provides people with hope and belief that one day its people will be safe in Iraq.

The horrendous events which occurred in Mosul in October of this year could be described as a campaign of terror designed to eradicate Christians and other minorities from Iraq. Since 2003, a third of Iraqi Christians numbering 800,000 are believed to have fled. The Iraqi Christians with whom I spoke to are all too familiar with the events which occurred in October. They spoke of continuous fears for their relatives and friends who remain in Iraq.

One particular interview which continues to stand out in my mind, possibly because he reminded me of how much I take for granted and how little he rejoices over, was with a 20 year old Syrian Orthodox male not far from my own age. Obviously, his experiences were far removed from my own reality as a 23 year old from Ireland. He had piercing white teeth and a glowing smile but his brown eyes told a different story. 15 August 2006 is a date that he will never forget.

He was kidnapped by the Mahdi Army because he was believed to be a rich Catholic. He was badly beaten and they insulted Christ before him. The wounds of his kidnap are still clearly visible; they cut his hand and arm with a blade. At the same time he was forced to phone his mother to tell her to pay a ransom of $25,000. As he told this story I looked to his mother and felt a tear well in my eye.

This boy’s Mother had obviously relived these agonising moments many times in her head. She appeared agitated and continued to interrupt the boy’s story with added details he had forgotten. His physical wounds still hurt to this day but it is obvious the psychological scars run deeper and it is an event which he and his family will find difficult to forget.

But this 20 year-old is one of the luckier Iraqis. He has been granted asylum here in London. When asked if he would ever return to Iraq, he simply replied ‘I am scared. I will never return to Iraq even if things get better’. He added sadly that he believes Christians will soon disappear from Iraq. Unfortunately, I have found that this is a commonly held belief amongst most of the minority groups in Iraq.

Having read transcripts from interviews undertaken in Syria, Jordan and Sweden and from being involved in interviews here in the UK, it is clear to see that no minority group in Iraq has escaped the political, economic and religious based violence. All these vulnerable minorities from Christians to Yezidis are subject to the threat of abduction for ransom, torture, rape, threats and destruction of property.

In 2003, the country of Iraq was invaded by the US-led coalition to overthrow the inhumane leadership of Saddam Hussein & the Ba’ath party. This is common knowledge due in no small part to the extensive media coverage surrounding the controversial invasion. However, what failed to catch the media’s attention during and after the invasion of Iraq was the horrendous violence directed at minority groups. Before I began my internship with Minority Right Group International, I had little knowledge of the terrifying ordeals to which Iraqi minority groups are subjected to everyday. Over these last few months I have had an amazing opportunity to understand the upsetting, but courageous, experiences of a small number of Iraqi refugees who have escaped to London.

The horrific level of violence which Iraqi civilians continue to endure is a direct consequence of the embedded sectarian violence which has taken hold of the country. Iraq contains a mosaic of minorities including Armenians, Baha’is, Christians, Chaldo- Assyrian Christians, Jews, Faili Kurds, Mandaeans, Palestinians, Shabaks, Turkomans and Yezidis. Iraq’s diverse minorities are fundamental to the process of rebuilding their country. To ensure stability in the country, they must be protected and represented on the long and strenuous journey in uniting this war torn country. To rebuild this shattered country work must be undertaken from the inside out. Iraq will never be fully rebuilt without representation of all its diverse and ancient minorities.