This is not a dictatorship

NotBaaghees-001

by Azra Naseem

Since the 7 February 2012 coup that was not a coup, a disconcerting dissonance between what people witness with their own eyes and what they are officially told they see has become a regular part of life.

Last week, thousands of voting Maldivians watched the X-Rated video of Supreme Court Judge Ali Hameed having sex with three prostitutes at a high-end hotel in Colombo, Sri Lanka. It was not just his clothes that Hameed shed in front of the people but also his dignity along with the ethical and legal right to sit on the bench. Ethical because he so carelessly flouted the values of his profession and legal because Maldives defines unmarried sex between consenting adults as the crime of fornication.

Yet the official reaction has been like a ticker-tape running across the entire length of Hameed’s sexual marathon saying, ‘This is not sex. This is not zinah. This is not Hameed.’

Gasim Ibrahim, the presidential candidate for Jumhooree Party, has been one of the most vocal defenders of the judge. He asks us to ponder the infinite possibilities of why it was not Hameed in the video: ‘Anyone can dye their hair red.’ No one can argue with that, not in these days of L’Oréal etc.

Adhaalath the self-appointed ‘religious leaders’—and the last Maldivian political institution one would expect to favour an informed decision over an ignorant one—has announced it cannot say ‘Hameed is fornicating’ or ‘Hameed is not fornicating’ unless the Judicial Service Commission says ‘This is Hameed or ‘This is not Hameed.’ Until then Adhaalath — or any other government entity — will not see what it sees, nor must our own eyes see what they see.

In November last year, 38 MPs in Majlis agreed President of the Civil Service Commission, Mohamed Fahmy, was more likely than not to have sexually harassed a female servant as she alleged. They voted to have him removed from the CSC. Fahmy, though, is still there in the CSC, accompanied by a subliminal government-issue caption designed to appear under every image of Fahmy we come across: ‘This is not a sexual harasser’ or ‘Sexual harassment is not a crime.’

Back in April this year, pictures emerged of Defence Minister Mohamed Nazim and Tourism Minister Ahmed Adeeb hob-nobbing with the Artur Brothers – Armenian gangsters who were chased out of Kenya in 2006 for heroin trafficking and involvement in the country’s troubled political scene.

Initially the official line was to say it was neither Nazim nor Adeeb hanging with the gangsters. Then came a very Gasim-esque defence: ‘It is possible that the Ministers and the Brothers were in the same place at the same time. That doesn’t mean they were together as in together together.’

Soon after, pictures emerged of the Brothers at the gala event organised by Nazim and Adheeb to re-open Olympus theatre. This was followed by evidence that one of them was staying in Farukolhufushi, a resort under direct control of Adheeb at the time. Still, the official line was: ‘This is not happening.’

It was the same with the leaked draft Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) with the United States. Nazim and others denied they saw the leaked version on ‘social media’, but were able to confirm ‘this is not the SOFA’. So it was not.

A similar story with the PISCES system gifted by the United States: ‘This is a border control system,’ said both governments, and so it is; even though controlling borders is the least of PISCES’ concerns.

Then there were reports of the forged ‘extension’ of the agreement to extend the lease of Farukolhufushi resort, a copy of which was shown on Raajje TV. Independently verifiable evidence exists that Adheeb took US$400,000 as a sweetener from the lessee of Farukolhufushi in exchange for the extension. But, the authorities have stuck the ‘This did not happen’ label on the incident, so it hasn’t.

Latest in these series of events occurred yesterday, the day marked on the calendar as ‘The Independence Day’. Two events were held to confirm this: one at the museum and one at the Republic Square. The event at the museum was a reception hosted by Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik and his wife Ilham Hussein for local and foreign dignitaries. It was held in the hall usually reserved for the most precious of national heritage artifacts. Their storage requires specific conditions, their care and handling needs highly trained hands. This is the expert opinion. The official line, however, is different. In direct contradiction of results of years of study, the President’s Office put out a statement saying: Having the party at the museum, or having untrained labourers move the priceless artifacts will not damage them. So it won’t.

Last night Male’ watched as Maumoon Abdul Gayoom was given the highest national award of respect. For thirty years, Gayoom ruled the Maldives without respect for either human freedoms, dignity or the rule of law. It was a dictatorship that stalled economic, social, cultural and intellectual development for an entire generation. But, the national honour, the shining thing around his neck, screams ‘This is not a dictator’. So he must not be.

This is a democracy.

Gayoom and his legacy – the major obstacle to consolidating democracy in the Maldives

Gayoom, Naifaru, 1979

Ahmed Hamdhan, a Maldivian political science student at the Australian National University, argues there’s more to restoring democracy than winning the general elections—cleansing all state and independent institutions of entrenched authoritarian loyalists is also indispensable to successful democratic consolidation.

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Insights into the Baaghee mind: CoNI interview with a policeman who mutinied

Maldives police mutiny Photo: Washington Post

The following interview with a policeman reveals some of the views that mutinying police held on 7 February, and some of the opinions and justifications they have in relation to their actions. The interview also reveals much about the tactics and techniques by CoNI, led by Ismail Shafeeu. The information shared with CoNI by hundreds of witnesses is still being withheld from the public, close to a year after its ‘findings’ were published. When Gahaa Ahmed Saeed resigned from CoNI he pointed to several problems with the process, and declared ‘it was all going wrong’.

How interviews were conducted at CoNI, and the shape that proceedings took, is of important public interest, so is published here. However, in acknowledgement of recent warnings by Defence Minister Mohamed Nazim on introducing a new mechanism that targets the ‘too free social media’, the policeman’s name is withheld and referred to as: P Where grammar and other mistakes were made, I have left them as is, instead of guessing at the meaning.

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[Preliminaries. Statement of CoNI purpose]

Yasir: We noticed you as someone who went to the Republic Square from Artificial Beach, and didn’t return to the beach on hearing of violent fights breaking out there. So can you tell us what happened during that time — between returning to the Republic Square and going back to the Artificial Beach in response to the fighting?

P: We returned and sat down right in the middle of the Square. On the phone and on radio, we heard reports of fighting on the other side [Artificial Beach].

Yasir: You could see it on radio, TV?

P: We didn’t see any TV.

Yasir: No TV?

P: Lots of information on radio and from the guys. There were Capital Police, and several other units. From them we heard the two sides were fighting over there. We heard of heads and things being cut open, and of other major injuries.

We can’t just stay and watch, one guy said. It’s in our oath, and in the pledge we make every day we report to duty—to protect the general public and people. We can’t just stay here.

We all agreed, and ran.

As it happened, I had removed my body armour, so I put it back on. So I only managed to get on the last of the trucks; several guys had already left in others. Some were running. I got on the last truck to go, but it wouldn’t move. It just stayed right where it was. I heard later some people confiscated the key. I didn’t see this, though.

I decided to jump off the truck and run. Between the parked motorbikes on the waterfront side and the truck, I met Farhad Sir and Deputy Commissioner Anthi. Each took one of my hands and held them.

Sir, let me go, I said. Major crimes are being committed between the two sides. Release me, I must do my duty.

Wait, wait, they told me.

Then update me on what’s happening on the other side, I said.

It’s all good now, the military has attended to it, they responded.

We only left after the military came, I said. But then they were let go. Isn’t that why there’s fighting there now? Let me go.

That’s when I broke into tears; and I didn’t get a chance to continue the conversation.