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/

A Jewish state or a democratic state?

The end of my week is taken up with the future of Israel. Israel is one of the handful of countries in the world without a written constitution (the United Kingdom and New Zealand being the others). The main reasons for this are that the drafting of a constitution requires definite answers to unresolved questions in Israel; the place of religion in public life, the borders of the state and the position of the Arab minority. It is on the latter issue that we focus, in a discussion on the drafting of a constitution.

The essential issue is can Israel be a ‘Jewish’ and ‘democratic’ state that equally protects the rights of all of its citizens? To understand this one has to go back to the founding of Israel. The first definite proposal for the partition of the British mandate of Palestine into a ‘Jewish’ and ‘Arab’ state came from a British Peel Commission in 1937. It argued that ethnic or religious segregation was the only way to peace and envisaged both sides ‘exchanging’ populations in a similar way to the Greeks and Turks in 1923 – incidentally, the latter can hardly be considered an exchange that has led to long-term peace between the two countries.

In 1947, despite the Nazi extermination of minorities, the international mood seemed to err ever more strongly in favour of ethnic and religious partition and the expulsion of minorities. German and Hungarian minorities had been expelled from their homes in central Europe, and August 1947 saw the partition of British India, with thousands perishing in the process. Despite this, the United Nations voted in November 1947 for a Jewish and an Arab state. However, unlike the Peel Commission, it did not envisage an exchange of populations, but that both states would fully protect the minority rights of the communities within them. The Declaration of Independence of Israel refers to the guarantee of equality and basic rights of all its citizens.

Today, however, the Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel, approximately 20% of Israel’s population, largely live as second-class citizens. This was certainly my initial impression after my week’s travels, but is an allegation that is made repeatedly at the conference and largely seems to be accepted by the Jewish leaders there, who recognise it as an issue that must be dealt with through a constitution.

For two days, we discuss, with parliamentarians drafting a constitution, with the media and with Arabs and Jews (including Jewish minorities such as those from the Reform religion), what a constitution should contain. Ideally no state should refer to itself as ‘Jewish’ or ‘Muslim’ or ‘Christian’ as that automatically assumes some of its citizens do not fully belong. But a strong and effective guarantee of equality could overcome such a claim, as it has in other countries. Real equality, of both religion and language and in all civic and economic rights could transform the situation here.

The two days leave me surprisingly, with much optimism. I’ve met many people from all sides of the spectrum and I’ve been impressed by the high level of commitment to the drafting of a good constitution. I was also impressed by a willingness to discuss the issues that go to the heart of the identity of the state. The conference, organised by the Mossawa Centre, was an extremely positive first step. In Israel, as elsewhere, knowledge of similar scenarios around the world and the strategies adopted to tackle them, is rather low. Our own contribution, as international experts, is to bring outside knowledge of international standards and good and bad practices from other parts of the world. Successful examples, such as the multi-ethnic South Africa, as well as disastrous examples, such as the rigidly segregated Bosnia-Hercegovina, where Jews are classified as ‘Others’, can hopefully be learned from. Interesting to note that the latter example was designed by international experts…

A tale of two walls

Muhammad travelled there in one night. Richard the Lion Heart refused to see it. For centuries Jews have dreamed of returning there “next year”. It is perhaps the most desired city in the world, and certainly one for which many rivers of blood have been spilt. Today, I arrive by an electric train and my first sight is a shopping mall, followed by a traffic jam.

But, as soon as you see the Old City of Jerusalem you realise it still has whatever magic has led three faiths to declare it holy. From the outside, it is the picture we all have, the crowded city on a hill, with a skyline of church spires, the Western (Wailing) Wall of the Jewish Temple; and the golden roof of the Dome of the Rock. But it is the wall of the city that still grabs the attention, still very much in use and enclosing the city in full. When you cross the wall, you feel you have gone back centuries, in crowded streets full of cries and traders. But the traders are selling ice cream and tourist trinkets. Then a street sign – “ Via Dolorosa” – the path Jesus Christ is supposed to have travelled carrying his cross, reminds you again that you are in no ordinary city.

And a city whose history shows all too clearly the dangers of intolerance. With my name I am reminded of the Baldwins from Flanders who led the First Christian Crusade, bringing thousands of Europeans thousands of kilometres with the ideal of reclaiming Jerusalem from the “infidel”. When these warriors of Christ finally seized their dream in 1099, they celebrated by killing as many of the Muslims and Jews in the city as they could, over two days.

Today the most apparent division is between Muslim and Jew. The Dome of the Rock, Al-Aqsa Mosque and Western Wall are all in the same compound, where you need to pass extensive security checks to enter and at all times are under the gaze of armed Israeli soldiers in flak jackets and helmets. The 40th anniversary of the taking of the Old City and East Jerusalem by the Israeli army is this month.

And on leaving the old city you face the 21st century way of division. Just a short drive away, near the spot where you have the most beautiful view of the sun setting over the old city walls, is the new wall in Jerusalem. Ariel Sharon’s “security barrier” is a 3 metre high wall, complete with security guards, barbed wire and graffiti, straight out of 1960s Berlin. In Jerusalem it goes directly through residential areas. On driving back to Tel Aviv, the motorway at times has the wall on each side. Where it has not yet been built there are billboards with pictures of it, as if they should be advertising “Coming Soon”. Even though the highest court in the world, the International Court of Justice, in one of its most important judgements, has ruled the construction of this wall on occupied Palestinian land to be illegal, nothing appears to have stopped.

Will the new wall finally segregate the holy city and give final “victory” to one of the three religions? The history of the Middle East, like anywhere else, suggests that attempts to separate religions and peoples will fail, and walls will be breached, but at the price of blood and hatred. For a city as small as Jerusalem integration must be the only solution, but it is not a solution that has been tried in a long time. I will return to discuss whether Israel can be made a truly integrated society.

A room with a view… of Armageddon

Haifa

Overlooking Haifa, there is a very different view than in the old atmospheric city of Nazareth. Looking from my hotel window in one direction is the Mediterranean, and a graceful sea city curving around a bay. In another, what looks to be an extremely busy industrial port. And looking down the mountain on which my hotel is situated is a series of very organised raised gardens with what seems to be a religious building at its heart. But this is a religious building that looks very different from the many Jewish, Muslim and Christian buildings I’ve seen to date. Why does it remind me of India?

To find out why I need to investigate my surroundings. I took a short taxi ride from Nazareth to Haifa, the third city of Israel. With a randomly chosen hotel, I find myself plunged back into the world of “international blandness”; a hotel that could be anywhere in the world, tasteless international cuisine, staff who are surprised you want to set foot outside the hotel, and inevitably, a cover band playing Celine Dion. But on leaving the hotel I find I am on Mount Carmel, another sacred mountain, home to the Carmelites. Nearby are some of the main villages of the Druze, a largely forgotten religious minority in Israel and Lebanon, and in the distance … the supposed location for Armageddon.

Fortunately Armageddon seems a long way off in the tranquil gardens which turn out to be the Shrine of the Bab, the founder of the now small religion of Babism. The shrine is also sacred to the much larger Baha’i faith. Bahais are yet another religious minority that suffer major persecution in their homeland, Iran. Haifa is a long way from Iran but was chosen as the tomb of the Bab.

I am in Haifa to meet Adalah, an organisation that defends Palestinian rights through the legal system. As a lawyer myself this organisation is one of the most impressive I’ve come across who use law to bring about change. Its founders, a married couple who are a male Palestinian citizen of Israel and a Jewish woman from New York, grasped an opportunity when the Israeli Supreme Court proclaimed itself ready to start applying “basic” laws (including that of equality). Step by step, major cases were won by Adalah, including the right to public display of the Arabic language.

But I am told that the times may be changing again. Aharon Barak, President of the Supreme Court and principal intellectual force behind this change in laws, retired last year. He is one of the most impressive judges in the world but it remains to be seen whether his legacy of holding government and laws to a higher, constitutional standard will survive. As in the United Kingdom, Israeli politicians have been attacking judges for “going beyond their powers” at a time when supposed security measures are eroding what have long been fundamental freedoms against arbitrary detention and torture. I hope the moment for organisations like Adalah has not gone.

But the fact that organisations like Adalah and I’lam can even hope to make a difference highlights the contradiction in Israel, a state founded on being Jewish but supposedly granting equality to all. Palestinian citizens, 20% of the population, do have some freedom to stand for election, to use the media and legal system, which can actually bring about real change. But beneath all of this remains a great deal of widespread and systematic discrimination. Although Palestinian parties are in the Knesset, none has ever officially formed part of the coalition governments. The legal victories that have been won in recent years are still a long way from addressing the key issue of land rights.

Haifa itself is a contradiction. Beneath the modern veneer are ancient and modern religions apparently co-existing. But also there is very recent violence. Arab and Jewish civilians were killed between 1947 and 1948 and thousands of Palestinians subsequently fled. Arguments still rage as to what degree they were forced out by the Israeli army, but it’s undeniable that they have never been able to return, many leaving the beauty of Haifa and Mount Carmel to face a life in Lebanese refugee camps. Last year the tranquillity of the Tomb of Bab was disturbed by the latest war in Lebanon and north Israel. Despite appearances Haifa is a long way from being at peace.

Bed and breakfast in the sacred city

Nazareth

I am sitting in a cinema, with the star of the film directly in front of me watching himself on the screen. Around me people are glancing from the screen towards him, watching his reaction. Eventually he gets bored, jumps off his mother’s knee and runs away to play with his friends. This star is about five years old, and the film, “Bed and Breakfast” was made by two young women from my host organisation, I’lam, about the children of Nazareth. It shows the reality of life in the souq, but also the wish of even the youngest children to have a different life. We’ll see if there is hope for this in the rest of Israel.

Nazareth, in the north of Israel, is the largest city with a Palestinian Arab majority within Israel’s 1948 boundaries. The Palestinians survived here, it appears, due to the actions of one Israeli commander in 1948 who refused orders to expel the Palestinian civilians. Walking through the souq you are transported a long way from the beach resorts just a few kilometres away. The atmosphere of crowded old streets, of children running around and greeting you may be charming for foreigners, but also the poverty is marked. The distinction is stark with other parts of Israel, but particularly with the Jewish city of Nazareth Illit, a settlement built in the 1950s on the hill above the Arab city, designed clearly to overpower the latter both physically and demographically. It has not done so yet, but remains an intimidating presence from down in the valley.

Other, even more ancient quarrels can be perceived in the city. The city so sacred to Christians today has a Muslim majority – and whilst the differences between the religions can be overemphasised, they are nevertheless still real. A conference I attend on press ethics erupts at one point into accusations between religions, but then calms down again. The most notable sights in Nazareth are religious – especially the very large and new Catholic Church on the site where Mary received the Annunciation. Very impressive to know the exact location after 2000 years – but then, in a different part of the city, is an Orthodox Church, on what it says is the real location for the Annunciation. Arguments over churches in this part of the world have led to wars in the past, even in the Crimea.

But I spend the weekend talking about modern communication. I’lam, the Media Center for Arab Palestinians in Israel, is a young organisation, hosting a festival aimed at helping Palestinians develop their media skills. In various old buildings in the city I came across groups, predominately female, discussing blogging for human rights, filmmaking and monitoring the local media (which too often automatically portrays minorities as a threat). The film “Bed and Breakfast” is a strong example of what can be achieved by an active and hopeful organisation.