Tagged: extremism

The daily pain

Yameen

by Azra Naseem

Yameen Rasheed was brutally murdered a year ago today. He had just turned 29, was on the cusp of a major career breakthrough, and had, only a short while previously, met the love of his life. He was the pride of his parents, a beloved brother, a doted upon uncle, a precious friend, an admired colleague, and a brave social critic. The promise of a fulfilling life of success, love, and potential contributions to shaping a more tolerant Maldivian society brought to an abrupt end by a knife plunged frantically into his young body; hatred cancelling out love, intolerance victorious over empathy.

It would have come as no surprise to Yameen that in the long painful year that has passed since his life was taken, none responsible have been punished. Justice, as he well knew, is non-existent in the Maldives. And nothing has highlighted this truth more than the obstacles against punishment for Yameen’s killers. To begin with, the investigation was so deliberately careless his already traumatised family had to sue the police for negligence. Their case, of course, was thrown out. The ‘trial’ that followed, and is said to be ongoing, is so secret it is closed even to Yameen’s family.

Murders are not just personal crimes, but crimes against society; but society is kept in total darkness about this particular killing which—if only society were to indulge in a moment of collective reflection it would realise—is a pivotal event in its history.

If Yameen’s death goes unpunished there would be no turning back for Maldives.

What is happening behind closed doors in the name of justice for Yameen is a struggle for the direction Maldives will take in the future: will it embrace tolerance, or will it submit to religious puritans free to take the lives of those who fail their demands for absolute conformity?

Yameen’s killing was followed by a flurry of state activity. Not against extremists who assume the authority to murder whomever they think offended what they believe is the right way to practice Islam, but against those who expressed views of Islam contrary to the extremists’ interpretations. The president used the occasion to mount an attack on ‘those who mock Islam’, and self-proclaimed religious authorities tripped over themselves to defend the right of the killers to take the lives of those who advocate tolerance. An Islamic society cannot be secular. It cannot allow other religions to co-exist. Muslims cannot empathise with people of any other faith. To advocate tolerance is to mock Islam. The message that has been broadcast loud and clear—by the president in his various speeches; by religious leaders; by figureheads of the various sects of Islam that have established themselves within Maldivian society; and—sadly—by a substantial portion of the population itself, is: follow this script, or be excluded from Maldivian society. And from life itself.

Around the world, across space and time, seemingly isolated events have triggered dramatic changes in societies. The killing of Arch Duke Ferdinand in 1914 became the catalyst for the First World War.  Almost a century later, the self-immolation of Mohamed Bouazizi in December 2010 became the catalyst for the revolution in Tunisia, which gave birth to the ‘Arab Spring’.

The killing of Yameen on 23 April 2017 had the potential to trigger similarly dramatic changes in Maldivian society. It was an event that could have— should have—brought every mother, daughter, sister, brother, friend, son, and fellow citizen out on to the streets from Male’ to Addu and everywhere in-between. It should have incensed every Maldivian who believe in the sanctity of life, who hold dear the tolerance preached by their faith, who value the existential right of human beings to think freely.

But the moment passed, only those personally touched by Yameen’s wonderful spirit came out on the streets. A handful of ‘society at large’ came too. But a year later, they too, have dwindled in number to almost nothing. Only family and friends, and a core group of human rights defenders, remain on the streets. Their pain is as fresh as it was this day a year ago, their demands as sincere, their commitment to justice for Yameen unwavering.

But they cannot do it alone.

Whether people realise it or not, Yameen’s death is a life-changing event for them. By not raising their voices as one, by remaining silent in the face of the farce that is ‘justice’ for Yameen, by going about daily business as if nothing has changed, in the empty space created by their silence, they are allowing religious puritans to write their own futures, and the futures of their children.

Perhaps none of this would have surprised Yameen.

But it would have certainly caused him pain.

It would have caused him pain to know that the society he fought for did not fight back for him; that when he lost his life in the battle for freedom, the war had already been lost to those making freedom a crime.

Or has it?

Without a people’s uprising or a similarly obvious consequence, Yameen’s killing may not seem as life-changing a moment in the history of the Maldives. But it is. In retrospective, if society remains complicit as now, it would be pointed to as the event which planted Maldives firmly on the path to intolerant religious puritanism. Truth is, there is still time to shape what happens next. The ‘trial’ is not over yet. The future is not yet writ large in a ‘court’ verdict. The people still have the power to make sure it will be one that allows all Maldivians right to think freely for themselves without being punished and killed for what they think and what they say.

What it will take is for everyone who believes in such a society to stand up.

Like Yameen did.

Or be prepared for daily panic, and endless pain.

Maldives: no country for freedom

Screen Shot 2014-08-14 at 10.44.49 PMAhmed Rizwan Abdulla, a Maldivian journalist, blogger and human rights advocate, is missing. The 28-year-old was last seen by his family on 7 August. Unlike most Maldivians of his age, Rizwan does not live with his family but rents an apartment in Hulhumale’, a 20-minute ferry ride from Male’ the capital. Rizwan is a deeply spiritual person, known to enjoy solitude. It is not unheard of for him to take time off from society to indulge in the right to be left alone. His close friends know that. This time, however, is different.

Nobody knows where Rizwan is. His phone is switched off. His motorbike is still standing near Male’ ferry terminal, covered in dust. He does not appear to have been in his apartment since 7 August. His backpack, which contains his laptop, and which he is rarely without, is nowhere to be seen. He has not been to work at his newspaper, Minivan News, since 7 August. Rizwan’s family filed a missing person’s report with the police on Wednesday. Since news of his disappearance broke, a witness has come forward to say he saw Rizwan on the ferry from Male’ to Hulhumale’ around 1:30 a.m. on 8 August. The witness also confirms that Rizwan did not take the bus, the only form of public transport available at that time, into the dark and desolate Hulhumale’ town. Since then, nothing.

Maybe Rizwan has gone off to be on his own. His colleagues have cautioned against speculation. But the state of the country makes it impossible for most not to do so. Rizwan’s disappearance resonates with many whose beliefs reflect and echo his own, even if they do not know him personally.

People in Male’—if, like Rizwan, they support democracy, freedom of thought, free speech, and are against Islamist puritans dominating religion— live in a state of constant fear. Gangsters, religious extremists and heroin dealers have run of the city while the Maldives Police Service (MPS) continues to ‘bungle’ investigations into heinous crimes or ignore them altogether. The corrupt and unqualified judiciary, which continues to fail justice daily, makes a habit of releasing smugglers and dealers, even when they are caught with drugs worth millions. The MPS has failed at solving almost all major murders from the killing of MP Afrasheem Ali in October 2012 till now. If there is any success, it is from a confession. Even then justice is not guaranteed; it is not unknown for confessions to be elicited under duress.

After a lull during the month of Ramadan, crime—including violent murder—has increased exponentially since Eid. In addition to the gang violence is the fear that hardline Islamists are also resuming their pre-Ramadan actions against freedom of thought and expression. The worst thing is, there is ample room to believe the authorities are complicit in these activities. Last June, ‘concerned citizens’, worried about a perceived increase in non-believers, met with the Islamic Minister as well as the Home Minister, to press them for stronger action against ‘unbelievers’. The same ‘concerned citizens’, as the high level government officials well knew, were involved in high-profile kidnappings and abductions of alleged non-believers around the same time.

This policy of turning a blind-eye to crimes committed in the name of religion is made most obvious at the macro-level in the government’s refusal to put into place any counter-radicalisation programmes in the Maldives. Supporters of the Islamic State are multiplying in the country at an unbelievably rapid rate. News of Maldivian fighters in Syria only broke in mainstream media in July this year after the death of two. Jihadist ideology, however, has been present and spreading freely for years. Many hundreds of Facebook profiles of Maldivians now proudly carry the IS flag or the black flag of other Jihadi fighters. Some such pages date back to 2010; many were created on or after July this year.

While support for IS, Jabhat Al Nusra and other such groups is only becoming widely popular now, non-violent fundamentalists have had uncontrolled on- and off-line access to the Maldivian population for over a decade. Salafi scholars, preachers and activists dominate all institutions of education from the Centre for Holy Quran (which, by the way, is to get a new ten storey building) to the Centre for Higher Secondary Education and the Faculty of Law at the Maldives National University—and this is just in Male’. There is no authority overseeing education centres on outer islands. Not a week goes by without Salafi preachers and Sheikhs visiting one island or another to proselytise. There are monthly Da’wa camps, How to Pray camps, How to Sleep camps, How to Live camps and How to Die camps. The Maldives Police Service and the Maldives National Defence Force are often on the receiving end of such teachings. While there are divisions among subscribers to the various ideologies, they are all united in condemning Maldivians who refuse to fall in line with their vision of Maldives as an Islamic State, with strictly applied Sharia as its only legal system.

Simultaneously with all the frenetic off-line religiosity, a substantial percentage of Maldivians are online using their social media platforms chiefly as a means of displaying their allegiance to violent and non-violent Salafi and other purist ideologies to proscribe them; to preach them; and to spread it among their friends. Like most users of social media everywhere in the world, they Share, Like, Poke, and Follow without question.

With few exceptions: like Rizwan.

Rizwan is a prolific user of the Internet, especially social media. He was among the first bloggers in the Maldives, is on Tumblr, and is a highly popular micro-blogger on Twitter, followed by many thousands. His online persona has the name of ‘Moyameeha’. He has vast empathy, and a good sense of humour; his #ferrytales entertain many. He is knowledgeable about how centuries old Maldives’ national and religious identity has been hijacked by fundamentalists within a short span of just over a decade.

Unlike most people he can, and does, engage with those whose beliefs he does not condone.

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Rizwan does not believe in hatred in the name of religion. He does not believe in violence. And he is not afraid to say so. Maldivian supporters of IS flew their flag at the surf point in Male’ in July this year. Rizwan Tweeted a picture.

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When pro-Palestinian Maldivians on Thulusdhoo put up Nazi insignia to the dismay of Israeli tourists on the island, Rizwan—while clearly with the people of Gaza—was first to point out that anti-Semitism is not the same as solidarity with Gaza.

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He is a vocal critic of the Islamist Adhaalath Party, and often points out the hypocrisy of their scholars/politicians.

Rilwan’s last Tweet mocked former dictator Maumoon Abdul Gayoom’s notorious habit of dabbling in astronomy and ‘reading the stars’—often with disastrous results.

Disappearances were a part of Maldivian life in pre-democracy times. And, with Gayoom’s family and cronies back in positions of power after last November’s elections, intimidation of dissenters and political opposition—using gangs and other violent forces—is also returning.

For the many thoughts he expressed freely, Rizwan has made many enemies. There have been many warnings that his days are numbered.

Rizwan

 

The gangsters were not far behind.

Fact is, there is no room in the Maldives of today for people driven by a love of humanity. No place here for believers in non-violence. No space for those who refuse to subscribe to the idea of a vengeful God that wants to obliterate all who do not blindly follow His self-appointed avengers. It is the dominance of these people—willing to maim and kill for God or money—untempered by a government that could not care less, and emboldened by law enforcement officials that are complicit, which makes Maldives a dangerous place for those who believe in human rights and the rule of law. That is why Rizwan’s family and friends are fraught with fear for him despite their best intentions not to speculate. Because they know twenty first century Maldives is no country for good people. Good people like Rizwan.


Regardless of the possibilities of all the awful scenarios Maldives today makes possible, all Rizwan’s friends and family are hoping against hope that he has not fallen victim to any of them. Their fervent wish is that Rizwan would be found safe. Today in Hulhumale’, they are all out searching for him. If you have any information regarding Rizwan that you think may help, please contact the police hotline at 332 2111, or Serious and Organised Crime Department at 9911099. And, anyone wishing to add to the ongoing search in Hulhumale’, please contact organisers via #findmoyameehaa hashtag, or on 775 4566 or 977 3250.

Update at 16:44 GMT: Latest report from Minivan News, staff of whom were heavily involved in today’s search, says Rizwan was not on the 1:30 a.m. ferry as claimed by witness. Members of the search part thoroughly reviewed CCTV footage from the ferry terminal in Male’ and confirm that Rizwan did not get on the ferry at 1:30 a.m. on 8 August or any time between 0:00 and 03:00 that day.

Who let the crows out?

by Azra Naseem

However you feel about MDP protests, you cannot say they are lacking in imagination.

When they were at Raalhugan’du, MDP activists’ first base after the coup, the place had a buzz similar to the Occupy sites that sprang up in cities across the world in this year’s anti-capitalist fervour. There was music, political oratory, poetry, and pudding. The young, the old, the city-folk and the islanders mingled, united in their condemnation of the coup.

Having been sent packing from Raalhugan’du, accused of possession of condoms and beer, MDP activists have transferred the atmosphere to street demonstrations. Now they come with drums, slogans, baton twirlers, and clever placards.

Now we have the Case of the Missing Crows at Usafasgan’du. Who let the crows out? Did they engineer a great escape, tired of the crowd incessantly cawing for early elections? Or, did the police kidnap them as is alleged?

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