What’s in store for Egypt?

MRG’s Communications Intern Sofia Nazalya attended a panel discussion marking the first anniversary of the Egypt uprising and found some interesting perspectives and a decidedly mixed, but healthy, atmosphere of scepticism and hope for the future.

What is the pulse of the Arab revolt? Where is the revolution in Egypt headed and why did it happen in the first place? These were the themes of ’The Pulse of the Arab Revolt’, an event hosted by the Institute of Development Studies (IDS) to mark the launch of their new publication of the same name, and indeed to commemorate the first anniversary of 25 January, a day that Egyptians the world over will not soon forget.

Since the results of the Egyptian election that saw the Muslim Brotherhood’s Freedom and Justice Party capturing 47% of the seats, and the Salafist Al-Nour party taking 25%, much has been said in the media regarding the ‘rise of Islamism’ in Egypt, ranging from a cautious yet anxious wait-and-see approach, to a categorical rejection of Islamists across the board. There are those who argue that the latter approach oversimplifies the more moderate Muslim Brotherhood, and risks spurring the more extreme.

Egyptian Copts praying at Tahrir Square. Credit: Wikimedia

In my last blog on the Amazigh in Libya I wrote about the importance of protecting indigenous rights in Libya and the danger a hyper-nationalist state would pose to these rights. Is Egypt heading towards hyper-nationalism? Mariz Tadros, one of the panellists at the event and a Research Fellow at IDS, reflected on this question. She noted that there were instances where both the Army and the Islamists have accused Copts of being ‘divisive’ forces and those who champion women’s rights as ‘agents of Western imperialism’. Even though Egypt’s revolt began with calls for social justice, Tadros notes that the current framework for social justice still excluded certain elements of society – notably women and the minority Copts.

And indeed this exclusion has meant the ongoing repression of the Copts. Copts have had a turbulent history within Egypt, having faced discrimination for decades. Just a month before the fall of the Mubarak regime, 21 people were killed and 70 injured in a suspected suicide bombing during a New Year’s Eve church service in Alexandria.

But while there is now a freedom from fear in the region, as noted by Ramy Aly, a panellist and a Research Fellow in the School of Global Studies, the same cannot be said for the Copts. The death of 27 protestors, mostly Copts, during the Maspero demonstrations in October 2011 against the demolition of a church, spelled a new wave of fear for the minority community. It must be noted however that it was the Army that inflicted the violence in this instance.

Maspero demonstrations in October 2011, which led to the death of 27 protestors, mostly Copts. Credit: Gigi Ibrahim

How do we understand this situation of intolerance and violence coming from both secular and religious forces? Aly points to an embedded culture of militarism as the underlying problem. He argues that the removal of Mubarak has not removed the laws and social norms that have existed in Egypt for years, with the reality on the ground seeing the extension of war-based values, practices and ideologies. Any mention of minority rights is seen through the prism of ’national security’, as though by ensuring the victory of minorities and the empowerment of women, the revolution would ultimately fail.

One common thread ran through all the panellists’ arguments: Even though the dictator has been wrestled out of power, policy has yet to change. Without legislative development Aly argues, a vacuum of rights and freedoms will continue to exist. So what now is the shape of things to come for minority rights? The answer depends on several things, not least how one construes the term ‘Islamists’ – in itself perhaps a counterproductive term since it makes little attempt to recognize the many differences between the various camps.

With the  Muslim Brotherhood gaining such strong support amongst Egyptian voters, they have the mammoth task of doing Egypt’s revolution justice. Tadros argued that the Muslim Brotherhood may be forced to open their terms of social justice, being the majority party in Parliament. Aly points to the current move away from militarism, best demonstrated with united calls for the end of military rule, as a reason for hope for the protection of rights and freedoms. Maha Abdel Rahman, another panellist and professor at Cambridge University, observed that the past year had seen high levels of politicization amongst the Egyptian people, the foundation for a people-powered democracy.

This perhaps is the new framework for Egypt, away from the out-dated model of entrenched elitism. Whatever one’s opinion is of the Muslim Brotherhood, the reality is that the question of minority rights will be a litmus test to prove that they are capable of leading a true democracy.

Join the walking tour – discovering multi-ethnic Budapest on foot (Part 3)

Kit Dorey who interns in MRG’s Europe office, Budapest, shares his experience from one of the activities organized to mark Action Against Racism week. See Part 1 and Part 2.

March 23rd: Downtown and the Jewish Quarter
A Tour of the Jewish Quarter would not make sense without stopping outside the Grand Synagogue of Dohany utca, which is where we met today. Now the setting for the Hungarian Jewish Museum and the Raoul Wallenberg Holocaust Memorial Park, it was built as the centre of Neolog Judaism. This is a form of Judaism that began in the late 19th Century as a response to the modernism of the period, and as a foil to the predominately Orthodox population. In fact, thanks to Zoltan’s expert knowledge of the area, we were able to see for ourselves the development of Jewish theology in the city, represented by the variety of synagogues serving different religious branches.

Firstly, we were lucky to be allowed to investigate the Orthodox Jewish compound on Dob utca, hidden from the main street and equipped with kosher butcher, yeshiva (Jewish school) and place of worship.

We also went to see the remains of the synagogue that lies on Rumbach utca. This particular synagogue was built as a place for those who did not want to follow the stricter rules of Orthodoxy, but also did not appreciate the modernity of the Neologs, perhaps taking a position comparable to the one that Anglicans and Episcopalians take in relation to Catholics and Lutherans. This building, pictured here, has an especially emotive significance, as it was used to collect the Hungarian Jews before they were taken to concentration camps in May 1944. Nowadays, robbed of all its fittings, it stands empty and unused.

Synagogue on Rumbach street

As Zoltan told us at the beginning of the tour, the existence of the so-called “Jewish Quarter” is owed to the laws of the time when Jews began to settle on the other side of the river from the Castle District. The city walls of Pest stood all the way until the middle of the 19th Century, and no Jew was allowed to traverse them. When the walls were taken down, the rules of settlement became less strict, but already by this time there was a thriving community in the seventh district that was happy where it was. Even today, as a greater number of people (descendants of Hungarian Jewish émigrés) return to the city, they tend to repopulate the same area in which their ancestors lived. After visiting four synagogues, three of which still operate and host thriving congregations, it is a validating experience to see how Jewish culture and religion continue to shape the atmosphere of this district to such a large extent.

Romanian Orthodox Church, Budapest

After leaving the old Jewish Quarter, we made our way downtown, towards the Danube River, where we set about exploring the history of the various strands of Orthodox Christianity, which came with the centuries-old settlement of an assortment of national minorities. We started with the Romanian Orthodox Church on Hollo utca, where Zoltan’s contact, Father David (pictured with Zoltan here), met us to talk about his congregation and the history of the building. The church is hidden in what looks from the outside like a regular apartment building, so it was extremely strange to pass through the gate and be faced with nuns and icons. Father David told us that he regularly gets a congregation of around 200, who come from all around the city, and it was refreshing to hear that the political antagonism that sometimes appears between Romania and Hungary had not transferred itself into relations with his community.

Our next stop was the Greek Orthodox Church, only a couple of streets away, to meet Father Kirill. The Greek Orthodox Church is an extremely grand affair: the front wall of the nave is absolutely covered in beautifully painted icons and towers above decorated lecterns. The Greeks, as Father Kirill pointed out to us, have a very long history of settlement in Hungary, and there are many Hungarians around today who can claim Greek ancestry.

However, the history of Greek settlement in Hungary is not quite as long as the history the Serbs, which dates back to the Middle Ages, as we learnt when we met Borislav Rusz, from the Centre for Serbian Minority Self-Government, at the Serbian Orthodox Church. The largest number of Serb immigrants arrived in 1690, after the Hapsburgs took control of this territory. After the arrival of about 40,000 families, for a short while Serbs were the ethnic majority in Buda, Pecs, Szeged and Sezentendre, and many of these families stayed in order to integrate with the local Hungarian population. Although the numbers are not as high as they once were, Serbians still have a long and dignified history of settlement in and relations with Hungary and, ever since 1993, when the Minority Act of the Hungarian Constitution recognized the Serbs as one of the 13 official national and ethnic minorities of Hungary, the Serbs (along with the Greeks and Romanians) have shared rights to a certain level of independent governance and cultural autonomy. This autonomy has ensured the survival of their traditions to the current day.

Serbian Orthodox Church, Budapest

However, a serious point came out of Borislav’s words. The new government of Hungary is set to reevaluate the constitutional protection of the relative independence of minority groups. No one is yet sure what will come out of these discussions, but there is a concern that they will impinge on the historical freedom of many of the minority citizens of Hungary, including the Romanian, Greek and Serbian communities we have been privileged to investigate today. For all those that understand the significance and value of diversity in political life, let us hope that whatever comes out of these talks does not impinge too heavily on the national and ethnic minorities, of all kinds, that live in Hungary today.

This was the last of our guided tours to mark the EU Action-Week Against Racism. For all those who live in Budapest, please take the time to view these places for yourself, as well as other parts of the city we have not been able to visit. For all those who live outside Budapest, I would encourage you to discover the history of minority communities in your own country and to explore both their historical traces and their present situation.

These tours were developed and delivered by Minority Rights Group, Szubjektív Értékek Alapítvány and Rockhoppers. Please view www.rockhoppers.hu if you are interested in exploring minority Budapest further.

Join the walking tour – discovering multi-ethnic Budapest on foot (Part 2)

Kit Dorey who interns in MRG’s Europe office, Budapest, shares his experience from one of the activities organized to mark this week. See Part 1.

March 20th: The 8th District
The overlooked 8th District was our destination for the second of our guided tours celebrating minority Budapest, for the EU Action Week Against Racism. Overlooked because it is mistakenly presumed by many (tourist and Hungarian alike) to be not worth visiting and devoid of historical interest. The aim of our tour today was to demonstrate that this is simply not the case and, in addition, to meet, in person, representatives of the most numerous minority populations in this region of the city.

Our tour guide Zoltan Nagy

A sizeable group met at ten o’clock this morning, at Blaha Lujza square, the square that was the destination of many of the immigrant populations that began to arrive after 1989, including those from Africa and East Asia. We began by heading straight into the heart of the 8th district, going directly to Köztársaság square, the scene of uprisings in 1956, and the historical setting of a thriving Jewish community, the synagogues of which were dismantled long ago. One of the most tragic aspects of the 8th district is how few synagogues actually remain, in an area that used to host several in each locale. The open space that exists now does not provide much evidence of the thriving markets and settlement blocks that used to fill it up.

It was in this setting that we stopped to talk to Bela Radics, who had accompanied us for the first part of the tour. Bela is an independent Roma rights activist, who took the time to tell us all about the victimisation of his community. The majority of the Roma population in Budapest live in the 8th district, and it is not wholly a coincidence that this is the area of the city that gets the least attention from authorities when it comes to development. Bela spoke to us about the persistent lack of political representation and opportunities that continue to affect the Roma. It was a great opportunity to question an experienced activist in the field of Roma rights, and it was a stark reminder of the difficulties facing the largest minority group in Hungary.

The alter of one of the synagogues we visited

Another excellent opportunity for a face to face discussion was provided by Zoltan, as we were taken to see the synagogue on Teleki square. In contrast to grand synagogue that lies in the centre of the capital, this one was located in a converted apartment within a residential block. Set up at the beginning of the 20th Century by Jewish communities emigrating from Ukraine, Poland and Russia, the decor has not changed since then. The beautiful old benches, books and altars were breathtaking, and, after the men donned their skullcaps, we were able to sit in the pews as our host, Gabor, told us about the history of this place of worship and the revival of Jewish identity in recent years.

We then made our way further away from the city centre, paying attention to the examples of art nouveau on the walls of the buildings that we passed. Our tour culminated with the Józsefváros Market, also called the Chinese market for the high proportion of Chinese-Hungarian shopkeepers there. In clear view of the Chinese University of Budapest, the market is the business place of Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, Turkish, Arabic and Roma stall-owners, and is one of the best places to go if you want an overview of the minority and immigrant populations of the city. It is a great shame that it exists so far away from the administrative centre of Budapest and the life of most of the citizens, but an excellent place to stop for some noodle-soup, which is exactly what many of us did as soon as we reached the end of our excursion.

In contrast to yesterday’s tour, which was a valuable insight into the historical influence of minority communities, today was very much about the present . The 8th district is home to a lively symbiosis of many different communities, and the tour we embarked on today showed clearly that it deserves to be seen as a precious and vital aspect of the capital, in a way that it is currently not by the general population.

Our last tour, on Wednesday, will focus on the downtown area of Pest, the home of Serbians, Roma, Romanians, Jewish and Turkish people, both past and present. These tours were developed and delivered by Minority Rights Group, Szubjektív Értékek Alapítvány, and Rockhoppers (please view www.rockhoppers.hu if you are interested in exploring minority Budapest further!).

Stay tuned for news of tomorrow’s exhibition, for “Comics Against Racism”, to be held at the EU-pont in the Millenáris after 7.00.

Kit Dorey

• Continue to Part 3

Israeli Demolitions: Destroying Lives and Connections to the Land

Joe Gonzales, MRG’s Media Intern in London, reports on recent demolitions of long-established Bedouin villages in Israel, and the hopes of local residents for government recognition of their titles to the land.

According to international media reports, in early November a unit of hundreds of Israeli soldiers descended without notice upon the town of Rahat and fully demolished one of the city’s newest mosques. Rahat is located in southern Israel’s Negev desert and maintains a population largely consisting of Bedouin, a formerly nomadic people indigenous to the area and part of Israel’s Arab minority.

The misfortune present in the unannounced destruction of Rahat’s mosque is obvious, yet the town’s unenviable experience is far from an isolated incident. Instead, it is one example of a continuing Israeli state practice that affects thousands of Israeli Bedouin and sometimes manifests itself in a far more severe fashion. Roughly 45 settlements, home to 74,000 Bedouin, in the Negev are unrecognised by the Israeli government in their entirety. As such, each home, mosque and building in such places is under constant threat of random demolition owing to their implied recent and illegal construction.

One such settlement is Al-Araqib. A Bedouin village with 300 inhabitants located just a few kilometres south of Rahat, Al-Araqib has existed for several generations. The village, however, is not found on any Israeli maps. In fact, even a consultation of Google Maps, with its extraordinary capacity for showing 360 degree street views the world over, identifies nothing but desert where one should find Al-Araqib. This is despite the fact that the village has been located there since the time of the Ottoman Empire.

Al-Araqib’s lack of official recognition is a consequence of various aspects of the country’s legal structure and political history. This lack of official acknowledgment has had dire consequences for the village’s inhabitants. Residents and human rights groups state that Al-Araqib has been demolished six times since June of this year. This included demolitions during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan.

Two residents of Al-Araqib, Ismail abu Madegan al Turi and Aziz abu Madegan al Turi, were recently in London to discuss their village’s plight at an event organised by Amnesty International. Ismail’s family has lived in the Al-Araqib for generations. It is where both his father and grandfather were born, and Ismail himself has lived in the village for the whole of his 75 years. He is quick to point out that he is in fact older than the state of Israel itself, and therefore asks, “Did I come to Israel? Or, did Israel come to me?”

Ismail’s rhetoric is far removed from the extreme variety of anti-Israeli criticism often occurring in the media. “We are not enemies of Israel,” he calmly states, “God wants us to live together.” Brandishing his Israeli passport, he draws attention to what he believes to be the root of his village’s problems: gross societal inequalities between Israel’s non-Arab majority and the country’s Arab minority. “Israel says Arabs have rights, but there are no rights for Arabs…no democracy.”

Ismail highlights the fact that the most concrete problem for inhabitants of the Negev’s unrecognised villages is landlessness. This, he clarifies, makes it an entirely different issue than the more widely known predicament facing Arab-Palestinians. “I am not talking about the West Bank and Gaza,” he explains, “they have a state.”

Aziz abu Madegan al Turi presents legal paperwork supporting Ismail’s claims concerning Al-Araqib’s generation-spanning existence. Aziz provides copies of deeds and contracts signed between his ancestors and the Ottoman Empire. He argues that these documents provide historical evidence of his tribe’s right to live in Al-Araqib. He offers further record of his village’s existence in the form of dozens of tax receipts from the British government, dating from the era when the area was part of the British mandate of Palestine. Aziz seems particularly distraught about the village’s loss of livelihood, remarking that “they have destroyed the economy of the village totally.”

Indeed, the constant demolitions have devastated the quality of life in Al-Araqib. It is especially abysmal when compared to the quality of life of other Israeli citizens. The UN’s Human Development Index (an empirical state-by-state analysis of world health, education, and income) ranks Israel as the 15th most developed nation in the world, ahead of Finland, Belgium and the UK.

Conversely, residents and local human rights NGOs report that the Bedouin Israeli citizens of Negev’s unrecognised villages lack access to running water, electricity, health care, education or infrastructure. Aziz and Ismail believe this denial of basic amenities is an attempt to further pressure the villages’ residents to relocate to state-planned townships that do provide these services. These townships are not ideal destinations, however, as local media cover their crippling poverty and high violent crime rates. Rahat is such a township. The previously mentioned destruction of its mosque, as well the high levels of poverty and crime, likely give Bedouin villagers little hope that such a move would be a positive change in their lives.

The possibility for improvement in the lives of the Bedouin natives of Al-Araqib and other unrecognised villages does exist. Both Aziz and Ismail cite the successful efforts that won state recognition for Bedouin villages in the Galilee region in the 1990s. Ismail acknowledges that international NGOs can have a role to play, suggesting that they help pressure Israel simply to recognise Arab Israelis’ rights. “We don’t ask to become an independent state, we ask to become equal citizens.” He is adamant that further demolitions will not diminish his people’s desire to remain in their village. “[Al-Araqib] is our father. It is our mother. We will never leave Al-Araqib.”

Debating freedom of expression, religion and secularism

Joe Gonzales, MRG’s Media Intern in London, reports back from a recent MRG council seminar debating the increasing discord between freedom of religion, freedom of expression, and the notion of a secular state.

The 32^nd floor of the Broadgate Tower in the City of London, the site of MRG’s recent Council Seminar on MRG Policy Issues, offers a sweeping panorama of London’s impressive skyline.  From it, one can see all the way from Canary Wharf’s sky-scraping banks in the east, past Victorian icon Tower Bridge and Sir Norman Foster’s famous “gherkin” building, and westwards towards the colossal London Eye ferris wheel and beyond.

Closer to the building’s base, indeed only a few minutes’ walk away, is the East End’s Brick Lane. The heart of London’s mostly-Muslim Bengali population, Brick Lane and the surrounding Bethnal Green area represent a commendable example of successful coexistence between secular European tradition and the growing presence of Muslim cultural values.  A walk through the area reveals fashionable nightclubs around the corner from a mosque, and Londoners and tourists from all backgrounds convening on a row of restaurants to negotiate the best prices for a Halal-certified curry meal.

Thus, the area acted as an appropriate setting for the MRG Council Seminar, entitled “Freedom of Expression, Freedom of Religion, and the Separation of Religion and State.”  While a successful balance between these principles seems to have been found around the corner in Brick Lane, it is obvious that elsewhere the intersection of these concepts is often met with public controversy and uproar. A variety of issues seem capable of instigating such upheaval:  the Swiss ban on minarets, the French ban on face-covering veils, the Danish cartoons portraying the prophet Mohamed, etc. The sensitive nature of religious belief, and the diversity of circumstances it affects, clearly has made it difficult for policy makers worldwide to reach a consensus on the appropriate method for handling such conflicts of interest.

The MRG Council, a group consisting of accomplished individuals from a wide range of professional and national backgrounds, was presented with the task of analysing and discussing a number of topics in order to identify the positions which would be most logical and appropriate for MRG to take on such nuanced issues.

Two topics of debate were specifically put forward.  One considered the possible limitation of freedom of expression in order to protect against hate and discriminatory speech.  The other debate examined the relationship between the freedom of religion and the secular notion of separating religion from state. These specific enquiries, however, acted less like limitations as to what could be discussed and more as the centrelines on which to base a wider avenue of debate that included the very nature of the rights to free expression and religion.

The discussion concerning the relationship of religion and state created a noticeably tense atmosphere and unsurprisingly quickly focused on the French Senate’s September approval of a ban on full-face veils in public.  Azar Majedi, an Iranian activist and chairperson of the Organization for Women’s Liberation, passionately defended the French ban, making a variety of points that induced widespread, head-nodding acknowledgement from other participants (an impressive feat given the near-unanimous anti-ban position that the majority of the room seemed to take).

Drawing upon her personal memories of growing up in Iran, Majedi claimed that Islamic traditions that require women to cover themselves are both the symbols and the tools with which women are marginalised. She feels that the burka and the niqab are misogynistic and disadvantage women to such an extent that they represent “gender apartheid.”   She quickly admonishes claims that veils and burkas are simply misunderstood symbols of Iranian culture by wondering aloud, “Just because I’m born in Iran, my culture is misogynist?  No. Cultural relativism is racism.”

Representatives from MRG presented the issue’s other side, stating that the veil ban denies personal autonomy, particularly in cases in which an individual has genuinely chosen to cover their face of their own volition.  Secularism, it was claimed, requires the government to be free from religion, not society as a whole.   If this is true, then if it is possible to manifest one’s religion without harming society, it should be done.

Majedi responded that permitting the veil’s use is not in the interest of the common good.  She interestingly compared the veil ban to the more commonplace ban on smoking in public places.  This is not done because the government has decided that individuals are unable to make decisions concerning the negative effects that smoking may have on their own health, but instead because second-hand smoke poses a serious health risk to others.  According to Majedi, the existence of essentially “identity-less” individuals within a community is not only degrading to those individuals, but also negatively affects public wellbeing, trust and security.

The other debate, concerning the notion of protecting against hate speech, saw most participants cite the controversy surrounding a series of Danish cartoons. The 2006 publication of a series of cartoons depicting the prophet Mohammed in Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten sparked waves of protest from the worldwide Muslim community. MRG’s representatives quickly identified one of the key tasks at hand as acknowledging that neither of these human rights automatically takes precedence over the other.

Guest speakers Sejal Parmar and Jonathon Heawood, representing the NGOs Article XIX and English PEN respectively, predictably took a more hardnosed defence of freedom to expression, claiming it to be a necessary component of any human rights-based society. Many participants noted the seemingly baseless distinction often made between offending others on religious grounds and doing so on a political or personal basis. Such a distinction is unfounded, it was argued, and as such individuals should be able to criticise religion to the same degree as they can criticise political beliefs, art and everything else in society.

Majedi, also a fervent defender of unlimited freedom of expression, stated that it would be foolish to believe that the outcry caused by the Danish cartoons was caused simply by their offensive nature, hinting that such protests were more organised than they appeared.  Referencing the widespread burning of Danish flags that occurred after the cartoons’ publication, she humorously remarked on the strange fortune it was that so many average Middle Eastern families happened to have Danish flags at hand ready to burn en masse.

MRG purposefully added a non-European perspective to both debates, indirectly mentioning the significant effects that the elasticity of language has on human rights concerns.  The European secular state often identifies secularism as the absence of religion.  Secularism as defined in India’s constitution, however, is defined as a tolerance of all religions.  When viewed through the lens of the latter definition, the French veil ban seems to be in fact anti-secular, as it abandons religious tolerance.  Similarly, in the debate concerning freedom of expression, it was noted that often such discussions focus on a free press more than other sorts of expression.  As such, monitoring mechanisms often neglect other forms of expression more prevalent in the developing world, such as printed pamphlets and village meetings. Monitoring mechanisms, it was argued, also often ignore the less visible barriers to free expression caused by one-sided societal power structures that intimidate certain groups from criticising others.  The effects such structures can have on the freedom of expression of minorities are self-evident.

By the end of the seminar, MRG’s position on both issues still remained to be determined by further discussion among members of the Council and MRG’s staff.  It is amusing to note both the near religious fervour often displayed by those praising and defending secularism, as well as the fact that criticising unlimited freedom of expression is only possible if the freedom of expression is present.

Brick Lane: Merging Cultures in an Urban Context

hannah-kaplan

Popularly known for its trendy pubs, fashion hotspots, and Bengali food, London’s Brick Lane is again in the news headlines, this time over plans to build two archways resembling the shape of a Muslim head scarf at the entrance to the popular east London neighbourhood. Though now increasingly identified with Bengali Muslims, Brick Lane’s rich historical heritage is defined by immigrants, including Huguenots and Jews. Hannah Kaplan, an MRG intern of Jewish-American descent, tours the street to discover how minority identity and culture plays out in an urban context.

Walking down the streets of Brick Lane’s predominantly Bangladeshi community, it is easy to forget you are in the heart of London. Between multi-lingual signs denoting streets in both English and Bengali, row after row of popular curry restaurants attracting diners from all over the city, and elaborate displays of gulab jamun, jelabi, and other South Asian sweets, the second you enter Brick Lane you are instantly absorbed into the distinct culture of the area.

This is a neighbourhood historically renowned for its rich cultural diversity. Today, it is identified by the wide range of religious and cultural influences that have contributed to Brick Lane, but by far, the largest population (more than 68%) is that of the Bengali community.

However, this strong Bengali presence has not always been the norm. Prior to Bangladesh’s independence in the 1970s and surge in immigration as Bangladeshis travelled to London in search of work opportunities and safety, Brick Lane was known as a predominantly Jewish neighbourhood. The Jews themselves had escaped oppression and violence throughout Eastern Europe as anti-Semitic sentiment manifested itself in the pogroms and attacks that were gaining momentum towards the end of the 19th century. By 1900, the Jewish population of the East End was as high as 95% and kosher restaurants, synagogues, and Yiddish theatre venues once stood where the more recent Bengali establishments can now be found.

I began to consider, as I walked through the streets observing the culture of this unique neighbourhood, the ever-shifting nature of minority communities existing, and more importantly, coexisting, within the greater urban context. As an American Jew of Eastern European descent myself, I was curious about the Ashkenazi Jews, descended from the medieval communities residing in Germany and Eastern Europe, who had once settled in London. How much were their histories and families like my own? And more importantly, what had become of the intricate network of family and community bonds that had been established during more than a century of living and working around Brick Lane?

Today, there is very little trace of the Brick Lane Jewish influence that had been so prevalent decades earlier. In fact, the only testaments to this community – two bagel shops, a textile emporium and an art gallery with the name “Katz” inlaid in its brick work – allude to the previous history of the street.

I was curious to know more about how the Jewish community had slowly given way to the Bengali community of Brick Lane, and additionally, how the Bengali community had been integrated into the greater British population. Both minority populations would have encountered the age-old experience of overcoming obstacles inherent in immigration and integration. How then, do these communities maintain their customs, values and identities, while living, working and increasingly participating in broader society?

To be continued…

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.

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.

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….

Way past their bedtime

Preti Taneja, MRG’s Commissioning Editor and co-author of an upcoming MRG report on Iraqi minority refugees, reports back from a research trip to Jordan

It’s nearly midnight, but Lavinia, 7, Naveen, 5 and Venetia, 3, are a long way from sleep. They wave hello as Father Khalil and I climb the steep stone stairs to the two rooms they share with their parents in downtown Amman. It’s a warm night after a baking hot day; there is no fan, so we leave the door open. Across the flat roof and on the other side of the hills, the lights of Jordan’s capital city twinkle invitingly. But these three little girls are Iraqi Christians, who fled the war in 2004. That means they rarely get to leave the house. Their father only goes out early in the morning, before police are on the streets. He sends their mother to collect the rations available from various NGOs working in Amman. Both parents fear being arrested for having outstayed their permits. As the girls tuck into the warm shwarma Father Khalil has brought, their mother says her greatest fear is that the family will be sent back to Iraq.

For Iraqi Christians, the situation in their homeland is terrifying. Targeted for their religion since 2003, suffering threats, kidnappings and murders, more and more families are leaving. Many of them are now living in limbo in Jordan. Like the many other Iraqis who have sought temporary shelter in Amman, they are not officially known as refugees, but instead are ‘guests’ of the Kingdom. This means they cannot work, and once their temporary visas expire, they are vulnerable to arrests. Though the government says it does not forcibly deport Iraqis back to Iraq, many fear the Jordanian police and believe they will be sent back. For Christians including the family I am talking to, this is not a realistic option. ‘I would never go back, not even if I was the President,’ says the girls’ mother.

As their finances dwindle and until they can be resettled somewhere else, Iraqi families rely on the network of international aid agency services in Amman, and on locals such as Father Khalil. He provides support, food and advice to Iraqi families of all ethnicities and religions. His work to help them is funded through donations from individuals and from a small British based charity, Iraqi Christians in Need.

It is much needed help. With a small amount of financial support from NGOs and the 150 JD per month the family manages to earn, they are desperately short in this expensive city. It was only last year that Iraqi children displaced by the conflict were granted permission to attend Jordanian schools. Some have missed years already. Lavinia’s schooling alone costs 650 JD per year; she may not be able to go back when term begins again. Venetia, who was born in Jordan, has never been to kindergarten – by the time she is primary school age she may be too behind in her development to enrol. They do not go out in the day, their father says, because apart from his fear of being arrested, it is too hard to tell them they can’t have the food and toys they see around them. As we talk, I notice childish scribbles decorate the walls of the room we are in, framing the few family photos and religious pictures of Jesus and Mary with loops of pen and pencil. With nothing else to do and few toys, the girls draw on the walls.

They giggle together as they mimic their father and his friends shuffling, dealing and playing with a pack of cards. Sometimes their attention is caught by a lurid Turkish film dubbed into Arabic playing out on the small TV in the corner. Lavinia and Naveen, still hungry, come forward for another shwarma each. Their parents go without while the girls eat.

When I get the camera out, their curiosity brings them over to investigate. I take a picture of the family together, minus Naveen who is too shy to join the group. But one by one the girls are tempted into having a go on the camera, and the workings of the digital screen, as if they are all on TV, makes all three of them shake with laughter. They take a picture each: of their mother, of Father Khalil. Finally Naveen relaxes, and insists on posing with her sisters. Seeing them falling over with laughter as I show them the pictures they have taken brings home how ready they are to learn new things, how much they want to experience. And how little they get the chance. As I wish them goodnight they wave and shout goodbye until we drive away.

See photos of Iraqi minority refugees in Jordan and Syria here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/minorityrights/tags/iraqiminorityrefugees/