Maldives becomes first nation in the world to be privatised

Originally published 2nd April, 2014. 

Following recent orders by former Supreme Leader and current CEO Yameen Abdul Gayoom, the beautifully luxuriously exclusive dazzling remarkable tropical island nation has officially been rebranded as Maldives PVT LTD (formerly the Republic of the Maldives).

Yameen stated that this is the “most efficient” way and that his decision was backed up by 30 years of solid research by his older brother and despot extraordinaire Maumoon Abdul Gayoom and his team of Mafioso gangsters neoliberal economists.

He stated that a new constitution was in the works which would redefine citizens as drones employees. The handy manual would detail the terms of employment and would also feature a 4503 page supplementary package (in a suitably miniscule and hard to read Dhivehi font) outlining how every minute of every hour of every day is to be spent for the rest of the unit’s person’s life. The terms he said, would be non-negotiable and immediately binding to all current and future citizens.

“You could have chosen just not to be born here!”, said a friendly pickup truck as it went on its hourly loop around the island assaulting massaging the ears of the populace.

The peoples Majlis, thorn in the side of every efficient economist and despot, would be dissolved completely. To fill the insatiable void in public entertainment this will create, a giant mountain will be constructed on Hulhumale’, on the top of which will be a gold plated (for efficiency!) pyramidal palace. Inside, the top 13 resort owners would discuss pressing issues via the time tested tradition of snorting coke off the navels focused contemplation with only the finest Western European hookers KLFA certified oracles.

In order to make matters as transparent to the public as possible, proceedings will be broadcast in full 4K cinema resolution but will only be available via a special 4G package supplied by the newly formed DHIPOOGERU. Rates are estimated to be at MRF4999 per MB (before taxes and for the first 10MB) for the basic PlatinumFuraalhu package.  

When asked via twitter if he thought that the rates were reasonable enough to be affordable for the average Maldivian, Yameen responded to our inquiry with “DyL wit iT. #thugforlife #mvthugs #icanaffordthatshitwhycantyou? #glamorous #thingsdictatorssay #annisucks”.

“We OWN YOU!”, said Yameen Maumoon at a recent rally where 11 recently convicted political dissidents homosexual-Jewish-drugdealing-heroinaddict-atheist-murderers were beheaded in broad daylight for the crimes against the state. The general public and most news agencies, including us, are baffled as to the true meaning of this cryptic message.

“I wasn’t really paying attention but I think he said he loves our country. We need more people like him! If I’d known he was killing all those people I would have turned up to watch earlier! It’s only by killing as many people as possible can we stop people from killing people! Drug dealers, murderers, homosexuals, heroin addicts, not to mention those goddamn Jews and atheists! And you know what?! My cousin told me those guys were all 6 of those things! And you know what 6 means! Don’t get me started on…” said CykeyDiRomeo, a recently deceased local stuntman who had slowly driven past the rally on his motorbike; only to crash down the road minutes later.  Witnesses report that the accident, in which 23 people were hospitalised, was due to a tactical error made by DiRomeo that occurred while attempting to simultaneously drive and enthusiastically discuss with 18 other men on separate motorbikes exactly where to have coffee that evening.  Hilarious video footage of the incident will not be available on the internet as, per the new employee regulations, uploads by non-authorised personal are strictly prohibited. 

Amouldy T. Sandwich reporting for Mendhan News 

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A Maldivian MP removes her hijab, and the whole country predictably freaks out

As always the reality of “Islam” or any ideology for that matter, depends on the framework within which you are practicing that ideology. If you are practicing in a largely secular country, with freedom of consciousness and all that jazz, chances are, you will probably craft your own version of Islam that is quite progressive. A version where the hijab becomes a “choice” and a symbol. If you are from the Maldives however, the reality of this “choice” being not a choice at all is made apparent from how society reacts to someone removing the hijab. A choice can only truly be a choice if it goes both ways, and the Maldivian social contract is most certainly not a two way street. This is paralleled in the Maldivian constitution and mindset where everyone is “born Muslim” but no one is allowed to leave. It's 2015 and people still love claiming that the Maldives is "100%" Muslim. 

Below are the 10 top rated comments on a post made by Channel News Maldives facebook page. I simply waited 24hrs and let facebook decide what was “top” or not according to their algorithms. I kept the focus narrow for my sanity as there are more than 240 comments on it already at the time of writing; the majority of which is hateful nonsense. I think these comments, the support they have garnered, and the fact that a woman’s “personal choice” is somehow worthy of making national headlines, largely speak for themselves in terms of whether or not the hijab is a “choice” in Muslim majority countries such as the Maldives; where the garment even seems to take priority over medical conditions. 

At first I wasn't going to censor the names of these people, since they are so public in their bullying, but I've decided against it. I will instead censor their names as ugly and messily as possible. That will be the extent of my self inflicted bad taste. 

1.

Translation: “If you believe you will get salvation/treatment/better from doing what is forbidden by Allah, then you have reason to reflect upon/revise your faith.”

2.

Translation:

Person One: “Can you say that on the day of questioning??? That the doctor told you to take of the hijab(burugaa)?? That you started wearing a bikini because the doctor told you??”

Person Two: “That is a great point Adam Shahydhoo.”

3.

Translation:

Person One: “Asmaa, why don’t you just stop wearing clothes, is it because of the doctor that you took it off (to do something new).”

Person Two: “Yeah that will make the doctor much happier eh?”

4.

5.

Translation:  “(I) don't know why  this should be news.”

6.

Translation:  “She just claimed it was religion of the ideology of Zaeem (Maumoon Abdul Gayyoom) and wore it to get elected to her parliament seat. However (she) only does whatever she does in name only. Previously Zaeem had said he’s a religious person and bragged and boasted about it loudly. Now what.”

7.

Translation: “It’s lucky (she) wasn’t ordered to take off her clothes.”

8.

Translation: “Look, even if you did take of the hijab, if you aren’t outdoors 24hrs a day, why don’t you just wear it when you go outside? If you feel discomfort after you cover yourself for even such a tiny amount of time, can’t you wait when you’re outside for a small amount of time? You sound like you feel crazy for putting it on when you say stuff like that.”

9.

Translation: “A higher authority than the doctor has commanded (the hijab) because no harm can come from it to women.”

10.

Translation: “The authority that gives one illness is also the authority who will take it away… This is not related to the hijab… May Allah grant Asma sound thinking.. Amen.”

Because  just ONE comment from the entire top 10 questioning the news worthiness of the article is kind of depressing, here is a bonus from further down the thread that sincerely asks people to leave her alone (using religious justification that still makes the hijab obligatory, but its still better than nothing). If for nothing else, it's useful to illustrate how they immediately get shut down.

1000 words on Maldivian Art - Nazaal Shiyam's photograph of a one way sign in Malé

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Photograph by Nazaal Shiyam 

Malé is a maze of one way streets and dark alleys. You can drive around it for days, for weeks, your whole life, and you can still feel like you're going somewhere. Perhaps this is why the national sport of my country is driving.

Driving? Why would driving be the national sport of a nation of islanders? Of a country whose borders are filled with water and not land? Why not swimming? Fishing perhaps? Nope. It's driving. Driving motorcycles specifically. And nowhere is the fanbase stronger than good old Malé City.

The stinking heap of concrete is less than 5sqkm in area, yet is home to almost, if not more, than 200,000 people. If you were wondering, no, there isn't a beach. Well there is a rather pathetic little inlet that is rather imaginatively called the artificial beach. And there is the tail section of the harbour does have a bunch of floating platforms hovering above the trash, used condoms and diesel. Oh and perhaps that dandy little 5m stretch near Raalhugandu that's full of broken bottles and garbage? How lush! How wonderful!

Nope, not much love for swimming here. And of course any fish you catch will have been lovingly fed off of the endless supply of sewage. It's the circle of life, and the people of Male' city are full of shit.

So what do you do? You save up and buy your self a fine motor vehicle that's what! Things will surely turn up now! Just look at how shiny it is! You will be the talk of the town! Everybody will be jealous of your sweet ass ride.

Now the cogs of our destiny are really in motion! Oh yeah baby! We'll drive around the city all night!

You'll rest your head against my back. You'll whisper soft kisses into my ears, hearts in a daze from the fumes of our forbidden love. Perhaps your arms will wrap themselves around me, deftly working their way through the edges of my shirt, your warm bare palms radiating love back into my chest.

You arch back and gasp as we hit that bump. Lots of memories about that bump! We almost crashed into a patrol van that New Years; all because of that goddamn bump. That morning, after we made love between the tetrapods, we kissed and watched the sunrise set the heavens ablaze. Or maybe it was just smog from Thilafushi. Who knows. It was a long time ago. All you know is you had a good time.

We pass by the flag, and then speed up as we go through that impeccable section of road they always keep nice for the tourists because their lives are more important than ours. We pass carnival, waving at our friends going the other way.

You wonder to yourself, why are some of us going in the opposite direction? You convince yourself that you, in your infinite wisdom, are driving in the right side of the road. There are less potholes and bumps on this side of the road see.

Dense traffic, and all of a sudden, Raalhugandu! For the briefest moment, as the spray hits you in the face, you feel an odd sensation. The slightly rotten smell of the salty mist. The way the lights flickered across the dark abyss between the Seawall and the planes taking off the runway in Hulhumalé. A lightness. A heightening of the senses yet a paradoxical relaxing of your inner self. You can't quite place it, but you feel it everytime you pass by this magical place. It is as if you can feel your soul gasping for air.

Did you know you were drowning?

As you pass it, you look behind your shoulder, staring back at it longingly like a burning man stares at the asphalt as he falls toward it from the top of a skyscraper, rushing towards the ground faster than the speed of light. As long as you hit the ground before the glass, you will be fine, you tell yourself. As long as I make it to the ground, the fire will be gone, and with it, the pain.

BALAA ENNU NAGOOBALHAA! KES BE' RANGALHAH BOALAIN' DHO THI INEE!

You almost crash into another couple. You tighten your grip and laugh it off. Your laughter makes me feel that way too. You wonder where the other couple were going, and why they were so angry.

Do you think they know where they are going?

As you pass the line of shmucks waiting for petrol (You're smarter than them! You filled your tank at that special time only you know about when there aren't that many people around! Give yourself a pat on the back for this one!), you think to yourself how it's only a matter of time before Raalhugandu swings on back. It didn't matter which inventive route you took, it was inevitable. Always. Forever. All roads eventually become a one way street. You've already passed it twelve times just this night, maybe one day you'll actually get there.

Children of the Islands pt.I - Fishing

The sound of a koveli. A freshness in the air, crisp with the smell of Palm leaves basking in the light of dawn. A hurried breakfast, the clinking of bicycle gears and the rattling of bottles and tin cans in a bucket. We were off! I look back and smile at my sister. She grins back, beaming that she was riding her bike without her training wheels. She had thrown them into the ocean a few days ago after they had given her a cut. She didn't need them anyways. 

We rode along a path dappled in the shaded light of an avenue of palms. The sand made gentle crunches beneath our tires as we swerved around the many slight dips and curves which pockmarked the unpaved earth. We got to the canteens and immediately ran to the back with our bucket to find the chef. The chef was a cheery fellow and he always greeted us with a laugh. Do you have any bait? Of Course! He'd say. He had a bit of guts and off cuts left from the garudhiya they were making for lunch. We collect some in the bucket, say our thanks and set off again, this time heading towards the harbour. 

The crunching was gone, replaced with a much more uniform whirring now that we were on paved ground. They are such odd things. We need them for our tires yet they feel harsh and unweilding beneath our feet. 

We reach the harbour and park our bikes near the inner edge. Here first and the outer edge later. Will the korakali be here today? Do you think we'll catch a big filolhu? My sister asks grinning. I hope so, I reply. 

I remove some of the offcuts from the bucket and place them on the ground so I could slice them into little slivers. We put some on our hooks and hold our plastic bottles towards the ocean, before throwing them out into the murky depths of the bay. Almost immediately ripples appear on the dark green surface, all heading towards the sinking hooks. We grin at each other knowingly and slowly begin to pull the line in, carefully wrapping it around the bottle as we did. Tangled lines could be a nightmare! 

Sure enough, the ripples began chasing the hook, and as it got shallower we could see a small school of korakali excitedly chasing the bait. The trick was to slow it down, and sharply tug it right after they'd had a bit of a nibble. My sister hooked one and then I had one too. Soon we had dozens and were running low on bait. But not to worry. A dhoni was pulling up. After they docked, I asked one of the fishermen if we could please have some bandaidhoo; which is the cut of meat right outside the stomach of a fish and below the gills. It was firm and the fact that it still had skin meant that it'd stay much more securely attached to the hook. To top it off, most fish went bonkers for the stuff. He laughed and asked if we had caught anything yet. I was 11 and my sister was 6, both of us were wearing kiddy hats like typical city kids, and must have looked quite out of place on that smelly and industrial looking harbour. I pointed to the bucket full of croaking korakali. He laughed heartily and told someone on the ship to fetch us a tuna. He then cut out the bandidhoo himself and gave it to us with his luck and blessing. 

Using it,we caught a few more korakali and even a few big fani handhi. It was always a rush seeing the much larger fish zoom amongst the korakali, lunging towards the bait, their magnificent blue fins slicing through the water like neon streamers. They gave a much stronger fight too, and required a bit more patience to reel in; making the reward all the more sweeter.  

We were once again almost out of bait, and we hadn't even yet gone to the outer rim of the harbour. There, standing on the jagged rocks, you could throw into a part of the shallow inner lagoon that was home to schools of ori; which dwelled between the sea grass meadows and the rocks.  

Are we going back? My sister asked. Nah we'll just use the korakali! And if we ran out of that, we could always find some golhaa hiding among the rocks. 

So we cut some of the little fish up and try our luck at the ori. The water on this side of the harbour was much clearer and, we could see the fish excitedly huddle around the bait, almost as if having some secret conversation. My sister hooks one almost immediately. She had a gift for catching ori. She knew exactly when to execute that all important final tug, just as the fish was turning to leave, not too quick, not too late. Grinning like a mad child she'd expertly let the fish swim off a bit to the left and then right before pulling it in again, slowly tiring the fish. 

A violent tug at the line around my fingers and I almost slip off the rocks. I regain my balance, only to hear the sharp wet twang of the hook snapping off. Annoyed, I begin to wrap it back onto the bottle so I could tie another hook. The previous year, or perhaps it was earlier, my father had taught me the knot, and it is ingrained into my memory to this day to the point where recalling it comes as easy as it was riding that oversized bicycle. 

Meanwhile, my sister had pulled up her fish and was holding it out triumphantly. Can you get the hook out for me? She asked. And I hop over the rocks to grab the line and take the fish to where we'd kept the bucket. The ori thrashed around madly and before I could take the hook out, one of its dorsal spines punctures my hand. A strangely deep feeling pain emanates from the wound like a slow burn. Ori apparently have mild toxins in the spines, but it wasn't the first time I'd been stung so I wasn't really worried. I shake my hand a bit and put some fresh bait on my sisters line. We manage to catch a couple more, including a few filolhu that had ventured out from among the seagrass. 

The most exciting thing about that little area was the giant muda handhi that would occasionally storm through, smashing through the water at incredible speed and scaring all manner of fish back into hiding, jumping over the surface as they fled in terror. It was so large that if the tide was low, sometimes it's dark blue dorsal fin would slice the top of the water like a shark. Whenever we saw it coming we'd frantically throw our lines in its path. We knew our lines were too weak. And the fish was bigger than us so even if we did catch it, and even if the line did hold, it'd probably just result in the fish catching us. Didn't stop us from trying though. 

Buckets full of fish, we pedal back to the canteen to hand our bounty over to the chef. Ahh I could fry these up for lunch he'd say. Triumphant, we returned back to the bungalow to get cleaned up and see what our parents were up to. 

I loved that house. It was the complete opposite of our house in Male'. Instead of sleeping on a bunk, we slept on separate beds. Instead of cold water in a tiny bathroom, there was a hot water cylinder in a space that felt like a palace. Instead of smelly tharafaalu that moved when you stepped on it, there was a soft carpet beneath our feet. Instead of just having to deal with the propaganda filled and censored to death TVM being the only channel to watch on TV, there were several international ones to choose from, courtesy of some satellite magic; our favourite being Nickelodeon. It was a joy to watch shows like Kenan & Kel, All That and seeing happy young people smiling and making genuinely funny jokes. The animated shows like Aargh! Real Monsters were such a breath of fresh air from the endless Disney re-runs on TVM.  The place was even air conditioned. And it was surrounded by lush vegetation instead of being swallowed in by the looming city around it; with a beautiful beach less than a minute away. This beach encircled the island; much better than a seawall and perimeter road full of traffic. On some mornings when the tide was low, you could walk across the glowing expanse of the lagoon right to the edge of the reef. We had never known such luxury as those few weeks of school holidays. The people were much friendlier and the air was fresher. And it was where my father lived and it was where my Mum smiled the most. She was a school teacher and a mother raising two kids mostly by her self; undoubtedly two of the hardest jobs in the world. After we'd gone back to Male', sometimes by boat, sometimes by plane, I'd cry in secret because I missed him and that happy home. 

Did you have a good time? You reek of fish! Did you catch lots? Oh you got stung by an ori? Here, put some dettol and vokadine on it. 

Soon we were off again on our bicycles, back to the canteen. The fish was deep fried with delicious spices, and you could even crunch down on the bones of the little korakali and eat the entire fish whole. We laughed and grinned triumphantly. Those were some of the best days of my life and I am incredibly thankful that I was lucky enough to have such experiences. 

Black Flags on the Horizon

Chapter One of a work in progress 

I

    The fibres felt rough against her palm. The sun was beating down relentlessly, and a line of sweat was beginning to form on her brow. Yet she stood still, she had to be patient.

     The brine glared back at her, defiant in its calm, as she stared at the miniscule ripples that were beginning to form where the coir disappeared into the depths of the endless turquoise mirror. The rope began to creep through her fingers; gentle nibbles accentuated with aggressive tugs.

     Still, Sona stood, steadying her breath as she gripped her toes around the curved edge of the exposed brain coral. Soon, she thought to herself, trying to ignore the growing sting of sweat in her eyes and the curious damsel fish pecking at her feet.

     Without warning the rope yanked forwards, toppling her from her perch. The water greeted her, erupting in a fury of foam and noise that made its former crystalline appearance seem alien.

     Sona gripped the line as it dragged her deeper; the fall had surprised her, but not enough for her to forget to take a final breath. The reef shone around her in all its de-focused glory; an infinite array of fluorescent shapes cascading within themselves, enveloped in the all-consuming darkness of the submerged horizon. 

     Where are you taking me, little friend?

     Hand over hand, she pulled herself along the line towards her catch as they sliced through the mirage. The chaotic mosaic below her had now given way to the pastel blue hues of the lagoon.

     At the end of the rope, a vast silhouette began to take shape. Broad oars curved down, rested and then rowed again, propelling the behemoth along.

     No, no, no, no! It can’t be! Give me a sailfish, a shark, the bloody Sultana’s robes! Anything but you, gentle one!

                Her suspicions were confirmed as she drew closer. It wasn’t a fish, but an enormous leatherback turtle. Horrified, she loosens her grip on the rope and rushes upwards; breaking the surface to be greeted by the blinding rays of the tropical sun.

     Her island now resembled a petite caterpillar creeping along the edge of the world. The line had now gone slack and the ocean once again fell calm.

     The closest resemblance of land was a sandbank that gleamed like silver set in ivory at the end of the lagoon. Perhaps she could swim to it and catch her breath.

     Her contemplation was shattered by the sound of water erupting behind her. The leatherback had surfaced. Blood streamed down its beak, where the hook at the end of her rope was firmly lodged.

     Letting go, she swam towards the creature, and cradled its head within her arms.

     Come with me… I will try to make it better…

     Holding on to its back, she swam towards the sandbank, gently pushing the behemoth along in front of her. It stared back at her with a cool indifference that was perhaps more reflective of its reptilian nature than its actual emotions.

     Soon they reached the shore and Sona set to work removing the hook. The beast did not struggle and continued to stare at her unflinchingly as she held its head with one hand and twisted the hook with the other. The blood streaming onto the sand matched the scarlet tones which had begun to appear on the horizon as the earth turned away from the suns embrace. With a sickening squish, the hook came free, slashing crimson across Sona’s face.

     Before she could wipe it off, a glimmering on the horizon caught her eye. There, silhouetted against the burning façade of the atmosphere, was a line of five unfamiliar ships; their velvety black flags withering gently against the afternoon breeze.

     They didn't look like dhoni. The cut of the bow was much higher and the surfaces of the much larger and far slower moving ships were encrusted with all manner of gold, silver and precious gems; indeed there were more treasures on just on the mast of the leading ship than Sona had seen here entire life. Latticed silver and gold, wrapped around spiralling tendrils of jade and Ivory, ending in a figurehead encrusted with glittering rubies, which twisted back down its length towards the ship.

     As she pondered whether she should wave towards the ship, she abruptly noticed that some of the rubies were tumbling down into the water; except that instead of sinking they appeared to dissolve, darkening the depths in its wake.

    Sona’s skin crawled as she struggled to move against the weight of the dark thoughts that were flooding her mind.

     Who would do such a thing? Why would someone do such a thing?

     A wet flipper slapped her leg and she broke free of the blizzard to lay flat, her slim figure hidden behind the hefty frame of the beached reptile.

     I had almost forgotten about you, thank you, dear friend.

     It stared back at her, and though its eyes were as steely as ever, the message was clear. The figurehead was now clearly visible and Sona bit her lip as she tried to suppress the nausea.

     It was a monk. Her eyes were burnt out and the stump of her head was secured onto the end of the gaudy mast by the twisting of her braided hair. The serene expression gracing her sown together lips did nothing to ease Sona's distress.

     I have to warn them!

     Before the panicked thought could materialise into action, the leatherback raised its flipper and placed it over her head, obscuring the grim parade from view.

     Let me go, I have to warn them.

     Go now, they will all still die, but so will you, and with you, the universe.

     You know my family is going to die? And yet you leave me here helpless when I should be at their side? How could you be so heartless?  Let me go!

     The flipper lifted, but before Sona could get up again, it slammed down again against the back of her neck; and her vision erupted with the light of a thousand lost galaxies.

     All of existence is suffering, and you child, must live through it all.

Understanding terrorism in the 21st Century - A short essay focusing on the 2007 Sultan Park Bombing

 Originally written in September, 2014

            I will attempt to provide an objective sociological definition for terrorism by referring to the works of Turk (2004 n.p) and Black (2004 n.p). Additionally I will explore how their models can be applied to real world situations as a means of understanding the dynamics of terrorism, as well as to achieve clarity on how the motivations of people that commit such acts are intertwined with the processes of how they came to view themselves as “others” or “outsiders”.

 

Defining Terrorism

            Terrorism is not a natural phenomenon but is rather an interpretation of events and their presumed causes (Turk 2004 p.271). These interpretations in turn, are not unbiased or objective attempts to decipher the truth of the situation (Turk 2004 p.271), and are instead subjective perceptions which are used to promote certain interests at the expense of others (Turk 2004 p.272). The more powerful a party is (such as a national government) in a conflict, the more successful they are at labeling opponents as terrorists, while attempts by opponents to label officially sanctioned violence as “state terrorism” are unlikely to succeed unless they are also supported by a powerful third party such as the United Nations (Turk 2004 p.272). Additionally, threats which are presumably influenced from outside a given nation are far more likely to get labelled as an act of terrorism when compared to incidents involving organisations which can be considered to be domestic or “home-grown” (Turk 2004 p.271). Labeling is thus a major component of terrorism, with involved parties attempting to apply unfavourable stigmas to their opponents based on their subjective agendas. As the popular phrase goes “one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter”.   

            Despite these subjectivities, what then, are the unifying characteristics of terrorism and terrorist acts? Where do the motivations of the individual terrorist stem from when they commit such acts? Turk (2004 p.273) notes that for empirical research purposes, terrorism is usually defined as the deliberate targeting of more or less randomly selected victims whose deaths and injuries are expected to weaken the opponents will to persist in a political conflict. Similarly Black (2004 p.16) defines pure terrorism (which is terrorism as defined by his model of pure sociology) as self-help by organised civilians who covertly inflict mass violence on other civilians. He states that like other forms of violence, terrorism is a form of social control (Black 2004 p.16) which defines and responds to deviant behaviour (Black 2004 p.15). Terrorist acts as such are political in nature, rather than necessarily being the products of psychopathology or material deprivation (Turk 2004 p.273). Moreover, although terrorist acts may resemble conventional warfare, they are instead a form of quasi-warfare – being unilateral and covert instead of bilateral and overt; where its primary targets are civilian rather than military (Black 2004 p.16). This focus on harming civilians is also where terrorism distinguishes itself from forms of guerrilla warfare; which may at first appear similar due to their similar scale and tactics (Black 2004 p.17). Furthermore, conventional warfare usually has a well-defined beginning and conclusion; with former enemies resuming normal relations after the “end” of the conflict (Black 2004 p.17). This is in contrast with most conflicts involving terrorism where the true beginning/end point may be difficult if not impossible to place.  

The 2007 Bombing of Sultan Park

                      It may be helpful to analyse a specific incident in order to both illustrate these points and also to determine to what extent these theories are applicable to real world situations. The incident I will use for this purpose is the 2007 bombing of Sultan Park; which is the first known bombing to occur in the Maldives. The homemade bomb was exploded in the afternoon of September 29th at approximately 14:30hrs outside the gate of Sultan Park, which is in the vicinity of the main mosque of the capital Male’ and is an area which is frequented by locals and expatriates in addition to being a popular location for many tourists visiting the capital from their resort retreats (The Observer 2007).  The blast injured 12 tourists and it is important to note that rather than all being from the same nationality, ethnicity, political affiliation or other such group, the injured were from a diverse range of countries which consisted of China, Britain and Japan - the only unifying characteristic being that that they were all foreigners and tourists (BBC News 2007 n.p). The intended targets were therefore most likely to be these civilians; in particular tourists visiting the Maldives from abroad who were targeted not as individuals but more or less randomly selected victims chosen for what they were perceived to represent as a group. This is further supported by the fact that the bomb was remotely exploded using a mobile phone (BBC News 2007); implying that the time of its detonation coinciding with the arrival of the tourist group to the area was no accident. The attacks were thus covert, unilateral and targeted civilians with violence.

            Now that we have established that the bombing can be characterised as a terrorist act, what then were the motivations of those that carried it out? How did they come to warrant the label of “terrorists”? Turk (2004 p.274) states that the general conclusion of Krueger & Maleckova (2003) is that terrorism is better understood not as a direct response to poverty, but as a response to feelings of indignity and frustration developed in repressive political environments. In this regard, it is important to note that 2007 marked one of the final years of Maumoon Abdul Gayoom’s 30 year dictatorship which would dominate political thought in the country from 1978-2008. Maumoon’s regime has been regarded as oppressive towards individual expression and liberties in addition to being hostile towards ideologies which stray from the sanctioned norms by various commentators (Asian Human Rights Commission 2006 n.p). The regime maintained strict control over political and religious thought by controlling the media and also by jailing and torturing dissidents (Asian Human Rights Commission 2006 n.p.); which I believe can be classified as a form of state-terrorism, as the primary targets were also civilians who were targeted with violence using covert means.

            Maumoon, who also considered himself a religious scholar and thus responsible for accepted Islamic ideology, saw the ultra-orthodox as a much of a threat to his own brand orthodoxy as liberalism and heavily suppressed radical thought; with measures such as banning the face covering niqab and shutting down independent religious congregations which would only serve to stigmatize followers of radical sects further. In particular relevance to this case, there have been reports of jailed radical preachers that have claimed that the regime tortured them in various ways; including degrading punishments which specifically targeted their identity as religious fundamentalists such as shaving their beards off using chilli sauce as shaving cream (Himal Southasian 2012) (Minivannews 2010). This gave the bombers, who have been primarily characterised and labelled as religious fundamentalists, a political reason for the attacks. The attacks, especially since they specifically targeted tourists, had the potential to severely impact the tourist industry, the main source of income for the country, and forever tarnish the reputation of the Maldives as a peaceful destination by increasing the perceived risk of visiting.

            As such the Maldivian government reacted to the bombings by shutting down an “illegal” mosque being run from a private residence in the capital (HaveeruOnline 2007); and the investigation into the whereabouts the of the suspects and details of the attacks would lead them to the island of Himandhoo in North Ari atoll – where a similar mosque was being run because certain residents felt that the teachings of the government sanctioned imam of the “official” mosque were against the Sunnah (sayings and actions of the Prophet Mohammed) (HaveeruOnline 2007). This would result in an armed confrontation between the police and mosque attendees/supporters as they attempted to prevent its closure. These operations taken by the Maldivian government in retaliation to bombing, which itself appears to be result of political & ideological oppression, represents some of the feud-like elements that are present between terrorism and counter-terrorism (Black 2004 p.18) (Turk 2004 p.280).

Motivations, Ideologies and the re-confirmation of the “other”

           Turk (2004 p.277) notes that a previous analysis by Juergensmeyer (2000) has shown that the religious traditions of Christianity, Judaism, Sikhism, and Buddhism all allow, and may even require, violence in defence of the faith. The selective and innovative interpretations of sacred texts can nurture “cultures of violence”; where religiously motivated terrorists see themselves as “holy warriors” fighting to restore or create a “true” moral order in a “cosmic war” between good and evil (Turk 2004 p.277). Additionally Black (2004 p.18) notes that terrorists typically demand a restoration of the past, such as political independence, lost territory, or a customary way of life. These notions are evident in the recent declaration of an “Islamic State” or Caliphate by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi (Al Jazeera English 2014), the leader of ISIL (Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant) or ISIS (Islamic State of Iraq and Syria) – currently referred to as just IS (The Islamic State).   The notion of a caliphate itself is a religious ideal as much as it is a political; and refers to the idea of an Islamic state led by a supreme religious and political leader known as a caliph; which in the case of IS, is “Caliph Ibrahim ibn Awwad”, an alias for al-Baghdadi himself. Here al-Baghadi positions himself as the decider of the true moral order and thus the leader or the “righteous” in the perceived “cosmic war” between his interpretation of Islam and the rest of existence as he attempts to restore “Islam” to its “former glory”. His largely political manoeuvrings are still inescapably tied with the label of terrorism due to how his organisation has repeatedly targeted civilians in their operations.  The obsession with a restoration of the past is echoed in the materials propagated by Maldivian radical fundamentalists; the most recent of which laments the “destruction” of the Islamic Caliphate in Spain and warns of a similar fate occurring to the Muslims of today if they give into democratic ideals, “irreligion” and the will of the “infidels” (Minivan News, 2013).

            The shutting down of the independent mosques, jailing of radical preachers and strict controls over religious thought would create a rift between the Sultan Park bombers and the government as it would have increased the distance between them in terms of social geometry. Black (2004 p.18) states that he builds on Roberta Senechal de la Roche’s (1996,2001) theory of collective violence to propose that terrorism arises with a high degree of cultural distance, relational distance, inequality and functional independence  - together comprising a condition of “social polarisation” between the aggrieved and their enemy; with the extent of social polarisation explaining the occurrence of terrorism and its level of violence. This may perhaps explain why the bombers did not target other Maldivians and instead chose to attack foreign nationals; as other Maldivians would have largely been perceived to be Muslims and thus closer in social space, even though they belonged to a different ideological sect. Visiting tourists on the other hand, would have been perceived as both foreign and non-Muslim. It may also explain the relative infrequency of such terrorist attacks by Maldivians on Maldivian soil.

            In contrast, there have been growing reports and incidents of Maldivians going abroad to fight for Islamic “jihad” in other countries; with Syria being the most recent example of note (Minivan News 2014). This corresponds with the recent rise in “westerners” from first world countries travelling to Syria and Iraq in order to become jihadists (Reuters 2014 n.p.). A study comparing the motivations of “domestic” Western jihadists and “foreign fighters” (Western jihadists abroad) and why they used violence by Hegghammer (2013 p.6)  found that when Western jihadists first considered using violence, considering all else was equal, they were more likely to join in a distant warzone than attack at home. These similar trends between first world and third/developing world jihadists in their preference to fight abroad rather than at home may perhaps be indicative of the effects of social polarisation at work despite the difference in structural and geographic origins. It is also important to note the shared ideology of Islamic radicalism and fundamentalism – an ideology which is inherently incompatible and opposed to more inclusive philosophies and ideals such as democracy or secularism.

Technology and the reduction of social and physical space         

            Black (2004 p.21) notes that terrorism has been a relatively rare occurrence in human history because, except for certain exceptions, the social geometry of terrorism rarely converges with a physical geometry that provides opportunities for mass violence with enemy civilians. However, he notes, the great advances in technology in recent years, in particular in the fields of transport and communication (Black 2004 p.21) has significantly reduced the time needed to travel and interact across physical space (Black 2004 p.22).

           These aspects are demonstrated by the example of the 2007 Male’ Bombing in several ways. First of all in the past, before the spread of relatively inexpensive global travel, the bombers would not have had any targets that were a sufficient distance apart in terms of social space while still being sufficiently close enough in terms of physical space to attack. The significant growth of the Maldivian tourism industry coupled with those technological advancements in travel would enable foreign non-Muslim tourists, who were significantly different enough from the general local population to be classed as others, to enter the country in numbers large enough with a close enough proximity (the capital city) to warrant an attack. Advances in technology are also responsible for the spread of the ideologies that would justify such an attack; in terms of enabling radical preachers to travel abroad to attend conservative madrasas in Pakistan and elsewhere, and also in terms of  communication technologies such as the internet enabling the rapid transmission of ideas across traditional geographical boundaries. Since the targets of the attacks can be said to be the tourists and the government, they also satisfy one of Black’s (2004 p.19) requirements for pure terrorism – which is that it has an upward direction, against a social superior.  Black (2004 p.22) states, as the relevance of physical geometry declines, the fatefulness of social geometry rises; with the social geometry of a grievance becoming not merely a necessary but a sufficient condition for terrorism.

            The way in which technology (advancements in global travel and communication) enabled the 2007 Male’ bombing is paralleled by the rise of foreign fighters travelling to Syria/Iraq in order to fight for IS; in particular their sophisticated global propaganda campaign which makes full use of new media and the internet. Furthermore, despite the physical proximity, the distance in social space that would exist between foreign fighters and local “enemies” (non-Muslims and Muslims belonging to other sects such as the Shiites) compared to locals fighting amongst themselves would be much greater. This may also perhaps explain the extreme levels of violence displayed by foreign fighters towards locals and other “enemies” compared to what was occurring when the conflict was largely a civil war involving local rebel factions and the government (Al Arabiya English 2014) (The Guardian 2014) (The Washington Post 2014).

            Despite all this, the same technologies which are responsible for enabling such acts of terrorism may eventually be the cause of its eventual sociological death (Black 2004 p.24). The growth of communication technologies and global transport have significantly reduced to physical and social distances between groups of people that have been historically separated from one another leading to the recognition of self-hood amongst people that previously regarded one another as the proverbial “other”. Black states (2004. p.22) that this amplified contact between such people will increase global intimacy, cultural homogeneity, and other forms of human closeness; concluding that technology thus makes terrorism easier and deadlier in the short term, but in the long term it destroys the social geometry on which terrorism depends. Turk (2004 p.285), meanwhile is more conservative in his conclusion and states that whether or not such “cosmic wars” can result in anything other than the mutually assured destruction of all or at least some involved parties remains to be seen. I personally agree with Black’s views, as “terrorists” themselves only appear to represent a minority of the human population – their global presence largely exaggerated due to the culture of fear that dominates the fourth estate; with the majority of peoples busily occupied with the process of understanding one another in this new era of global communication – further reducing the social distance and sense of “otherness” required for the majority of terrorist acts to occur.

References

Al Jazeera English, 2014. Baghdadi's vision of a new caliphate - Middle East - Al Jazeera English . [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.aljazeera.com/news/middleeast/2014/07/baghdadi-vision-new-caliphate-20147184858247981.html. [Accessed 20 September 2014]

Al Arabiya English, 2014. Meet ISIS’ new breed of Chechen militants.  [ONLINE] Available at:http://english.alarabiya.net/en/perspective/analysis/2014/08/31/Meet-ISIS-new-breed-of-Chechen-Militants-.html. [Accessed 21 September 2014].

Asian Human Rights Commission . 2006. MALDIVES: The Human Rights Situation in 2006 . [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.humanrights.asia/resources/hrreport/2006/Maldives2006.pdf. [Accessed 15 September 14].

BBC NEWS, 2007.  Tourists hurt in Maldives blast. [ONLINE] Available at:http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7019929.stm. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

Black , D., 2004. The Geometry of Terrorism . Sociological Theory , Vol. 22, No.1, 14-25.

HaveeruOnline 2007.  Police shut down illegal mosque; two people arrested . [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.haveeru.com.mv/news/18314. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

HaveeruOnline 2014.  Police begin operation in Himandhoo to find missing bomb blast suspects . [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.haveeru.com.mv/news/18351. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

Hegghammer, T., 2013. Should I Stay or Should I Go? Explaining Variation in Western Jihadists' Choice between Domestic and Foreign Fighting. American Political Science Review, Vol. 107, No.1, 1-15.

Himal Southasian, 2012.  A tool for the atolls : Himal Southasian. [ONLINE] Available at: http://himalmag.com/a-tool-for-the-atolls/. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

Minivan News, 2010. Religious unity regulations on hold | Minivan News . [ONLINE] Available at:http://minivannews.com/politics/religious-unity-regulations-on-hold-7301. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

Minivan News, 2013. Translation: Jamiyyathu Salaf’s ‘Al-Andhalus’ sermon | Minivan News. [ONLINE] Available at: http://minivannews.com/politics/jamiyathuh-salafs-al-andhalus-sermon-66015. [Accessed 21 September 2014].

 Minivan News, 2014. Jihadist media claims two more Maldivians killed in Syria | Minivan News . [ONLINE] Available at: http://minivannews.com/society/jihadist-media-claims-two-more-maldivians-killed-in-syria-89915. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

Reuters . 2014. U.S., foreign fighters in Syria pose 'very serious threat' to U.S.: lawmaker | Reuters . [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/08/31/us-syria-crisis-usa-lawmakers-idUSKBN0GV0KR20140831. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

The Guardian, 2014. British Isis militant in James Foley video 'guards foreign hostages in Syria' | World news | The Guardian . [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/aug/20/isis-militant-islamic-state-james-foley-guards-british. [Accessed 21 September 2014].

The Observer , 2007. Tranquillity of Maldives shattered by bomb blast. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.theguardian.com/world/2007/sep/30/terrorism.travel. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

The Washington Post, 2014. Foreign fighters don’t always help - The Washington Post. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/monkey-cage/wp/2014/05/28/foreign-fighters-dont-help/. [Accessed 20 September 2014].

Turk, A. T., 2004. Sociology of Terrorism . Annual Review of Sociology, Vol. 30, 271-286.

Yameen to rename all things Yameen.

Photo Source

In a move that would make the great Admiral General Aladeen proud, current President and newly instated Dictator of the Maldives Yameen Abdul Gayoom, has declared that everything in the island nation is to be named after himself.

Effective from the 1st of January 2014, everything in the Maldives will be called Yameen.

He explained during his weekly address that the move would eliminate all poverty, crime, drug abuse and malnutrition from all manner of communities throughout the kingdom. He said that it would even stop all molestations and rapes and would most certainly increase crop yields throughout the atolls and make the tuna catch more bountiful from all the seas.

Furthermore he said that it would cure everyone, young and old (except the infidels & Bangladeshis), of all their ailments while simultaneously quadrupling tourist arrivals and grade point averages.

The untold strife caused by political drama and favouritism would be entirely eliminated, with everyone peacefully getting along as everyone would naturally then belong to the same party.

The bones and minds of prisoners & families broken under his brother’s similarly joyful regime would be magically healed, leaving behind a feeling government mullahs are tentatively calling BlissTM.

He said that the utterly genius plan would usher in a new era of freedom of speech, human rights and democracy; greatly enriching the lives of the fishermen and resort workers by allowing his family and foreign investors to happily keep exploiting the nations lifeblood for many a generation to come.

“Umar gave me the idea; he said he saw it in some movie. It’s going to be great!”, the President remarked excitedly during one interview. “These people are so stupid my name is all they need to know for the next 30 or so odd years anyways. It’s going to push productivity through the roof! Do I look like I give a ****? Dolla dolla bills ya’ll!”

The President’s Office later released a statement informing the media that everyone present had misheard the word “stupid”; due to either faulty air-conditioning in the meeting hall or a Zionist conspiracy, and that what the Great Leader actually meant that it was only Dhivehin who would be smart enough to communicate using only one word.

It further elaborated that such a broad sense of natural harmony and unity in the nation could only be possible if the name change was imposed and maintained by force.

“If everyone says the same thing how could there possibly be any arguments, or hatred or violence? There will only be peace under the one mighty name. Once the law has passed, we will have zero tolerance towards peoples who would dare to disrupt the delicate homogeneity of society by uttering names other than Yameen. Since our citizens deserve the very best, Special Operations is already on standby with canisters of the finest Singaporean teargas. ”, the statement read.

 “Freedom and democracy is what it’s all about! We will have free and fair elections at the end of my term no doubt. My name’s Yameen na’mean? Power to the people ya’ll!”, the President said recently while emceeing at an extravagant ceremony where top military, police and election officials were given  raises and their own private islands for their “continued & steadfast courage in demonstrating their loyalty to the nation”.

The President also commented that the move would only be temporary, saying that the new law would have a clause stating that the winner of the next election would be given the power change things back to normal if they wished.

Officials have yet to respond to queries on how an election would be held if all the names on the ballot had to read “Yameen”.

By Amouldy T. Sandwich reporting for Mendhan News 

Originally published December 28th 2013

My Experience Dealing With Maldives Police Service [ We Are All Ahmed Rizwan #FindMoyameehaa ]

                It has now almost been 15 days since Ahmed Rizwan (@moyameehaa) has gone missing. Instead of speculating about what might have happened to him on the limited information currently available (the only things that are clear at this point in time is that he was most likely abducted, and that there are people that don’t want him found and that there are people who don’t care). I am going to do what he would have wanted me to do; what he has inspired me to do since I came into contact with his works and writings almost a decade ago. I am going to write about what I know for sure. I am going to write about my own experiences; even the ones I’d rather forget.

                My ex-girlfriend and I almost died in 2008. I remember nothing particularly memorable leading up to the incident other than a sense of despair and hopelessness about my failing relationship; which had degenerated into  both partners acting out only the most mechanical and utilitarian parts of intimacy. Pick me up, drive me there, let’s eat some food, let’s ****. It was all falling apart and neither of us wanted to put in the effort of going beyond the repetitions we were already familiar with.

                It was in that haze of melancholic apathy that I went to give her a lift back home from work on my bike; business as usual, a clean transaction, at least we’d be together for a little while. Besides that I felt somewhat obliged since it was already past midnight and the streets of Male’ aren’t exactly the safest place to be walking home from at such an hour.

                On top of the regular dose of crushing claustrophobia, the city seemed to ooze a strange vibe. It was unnerving. I was taking the classic detour going around the outer edges of the island when I suddenly felt as if something was not right and felt a sudden urge to drive straight home. So instead of continuing that endless lover’s circuit, I turned into Majeedhee magu from near the artificial beach area.

                As I idly wondered to myself if I had made the right decision, I noticed a figure standing in the middle of the road opposite the Muni Ufaa Youth Center. The heavy foliage from the trees which grew at the centre obscured the streetlights, which shrouded the whole area in a veil of darkness. I wondered if I should ark away or go onto the opposite lane, but eventually just drove ahead in a straight line, hoping the appearance of the shadowy figure had nothing to do with a sudden growing sense of dread.

                As I neared him, I noticed that he was looking around wildly in all directions and had one of his hands around his crotch. Something was definitely not right. Just before I came parallel with him I felt something warm and sticky on my leg. All rationality suddenly evaporating from my consciousness, I slam the breaks and glare at the person. I do not remember what my exact words were but I angrily asked him what in the world he just did.

                “Goru handanee” (I’m pissing), he slurred back with a whole bunch of expletives thrown in, before whipping his dick around at us again and splashing us some more.

                What happened next is hazy in my memory. I vaguely remember gritting my teeth and starting the motions of getting off my bike. Halfway through that I thought to look left behind my shoulder towards Muni Ufaa. A crowd of people were standing there who I had not even noticed before because of the shadows, and perhaps because I was focused more on the guy who just pissed on me.  As I turned back towards the right I felt a heavy thud and then a crack on the back of the left side of my skull. A chunky piece of wood flies over my head and clanks down diagonally in front of me.

                One of the people in the shadows behind me had broken a heavy wooden beam across my head.

                Everything from that moment seemed to happen in slow motion, or as if I was swimming through some thick liquid.

                I faltered for second that seemed to last for hours. Everything was muffled and far away. Then her voice broke through the fog endlessly screaming “GO!”.

                I snapped out of it and looked down at the dashboard of my bike. It was in third gear and the engine was still running.

                I somehow managed to grip the throttle and accelerate as I began to slump down on the edge of losing consciousness.

                The bike began to move, and the feeling of unstable forward motion combined with her screaming jolted me back awake and I miraculously had the sense to put the gear back down to the second. The sudden escape, and perhaps the fact that I hadn’t immediately crumpled into a heap, had surprised them long enough for me to pick up some speed and put some distance between us. My sole thought was getting her out of there safe.

                I vaguely remember yelling something about calling the ****ing police to the people that I passed by. This made my head feel a bit clearer and as I regained a better hold on the motorbike, I kept accelerating as I neared the corner where Sonee Hardware is.

                “Someone’s coming after us!” she said.

                I looked back, making us go slightly off balance again, to see that someone was indeed chasing after us. Everything was happening so fast that I cannot tell for sure what he was actually holding, but I remember seeing a knife.

                I had to keep going. I kept accelerating and took the corner. I looked back over my shoulder a few seconds later and the runner had stopped.

                “You’re bleeding!” she said. At this point I’d like to note that she was saying quite a lot of things. I don’t remember all of the details, it was a long time ago, and the situation didn’t exactly lend well to crystal memorisation.

                She pressed her hands against where the wood had struck and tried to stop the blood as much as she could. At some point I think she showed me one of her hands as I drove. I don’t remember how I felt about it but I remember a lot of red.

                In this state I somehow managed to find the winding way home through the dark streets of the city. On the final corner I distinctly remember driving against the last one-way road in order to drive straight towards my home.

                I remember parking the bike at an odd angle and being completely unable to move. She ran inside to get help and soon after I heard voices yelling and coming towards me. Arms lifted me up and I was carried through the front door and to the living room, where I was laid down on the tiles.

                As I drifted around the edges of consciousness I saw standing around me in a semi-circle the worried and concerned looking faces of my family.

                I vaguely remember foaming at the mouth as I struggled to tell them what had happened all the while worrying if I was explaining it well enough.

                Now I was in a taxi. My mother, who was sitting next to me, informs me that we’re going to the hospital. She tells the taxi driver what happened and he turns on his emergency indicators and speeds most of the way there.

                When we get there I’m told to sit in a wheel chair. I remember feeling blinded by the lights and an ocean of faces as we entered the main lobby and rushed towards the emergency section.

                Here my memory becomes even fuzzier. Maybe it was when my brain decided it was ok to rest for a bit. I any case I do not remember much of my treatment or surgery other than my mother jokingly saying this was why she said I was stubborn (boa-haru in Dhivehi means stubborn but literally translates into hard headed) and vague memories of sitting in a wheelchair feeling shocked and numb waiting for the police to arrive.

                When they did finally come, it was two officers, and one of them was holding a small notepad.

                After taking my name and address and other details, he asked me to briefly describe what happened, after which he asked if I knew the people that had assaulted me.

                When I said that I had no idea he closed his note book as if to signal that he was done. He didn’t ask me how many people were there. He didn’t ask me what they were wearing. There were so many things he didn’t ask I feel irritated just trying to remember what he did.

                I vaguely remember my mother angrily asking them if that was it, was that the whole investigation?

                They said that I could go to headquarters and give a statement if I wanted, to which I said something along the lines of that I’d give a statement but not at headquarters, and that I’d rather an officer visit me at home.

                Sure, they said. Someone would get in touch. So we went back home.

                After a troubled sleep, I woke up the next day wondering why I had a bandage over the back of my head. A stifling sombreness descended over me as I suddenly remembered why.

                I called my friends and let them knew what happened. My uncle trimmed my hair so the bandage and where they had shaved to put the sutures in wouldn’t look so odd.

                All the while I was gripped with a fear and paranoia that itched at my skin. I kept seeing the vague silhouettes of my assailants everywhere. For a while I couldn’t even stand being near Henveiru for any extended amounts of time.

                No police officers came. No one to tell me what had happened. No one to tell me if they were still out there or not. No one to tell me if I should be worried. No one to tell me shit other than my friends and family.

                Weeks seemed to pass, then as if out of nowhere, we get an imposing looking envelope. Within it was a summons to appear at Police HQ. I read it over and over again several times.

                Surely this couldn’t be right. I’d specifically told them I didn’t want to go to HQ. It was pretty well known that HQ was monitored by certain gangs for informants and witnesses and rumours said that there were staff that provided them with info as well.

                It didn’t even say what it was about; yet disobeying a summons is an offense in itself, so I decided that I had to go despite my paranoia.  

                I walked in and handed the summons over to the woman at the reception desk. I was told to take a chair in the reception area and wait. I wondered to myself if it would be the receptionist who would dob me in.

                After an eternity under the clinical glare of the fluorescent lobby lights someone came and told me to go through one of the doors adjacent to the lobby and was told to take a seat. Even at this point I only assumed that the summons was about the assault. What else could it be about?

                The man sitting across the desk from me in office wear identified himself as something that sounded like corporal (I don’t remember his exact rank) before apologising about not being able to make it to my house to conduct the interview as he “had been quite busy”.

                I remember staring back at him incredulously for a few seconds; as all my suspicions and all the rumours and stories I’d heard about the police being terrible at their job crystallised in front of me into tangible experience.

                He took out a thick file and placed it across from me on the desk. I do not remember if he asked me for my statement before or after this. I mostly remember being pissed off at him for handling my case as if it was some barbers appointment.

                Either way, he opened the file and flipped to a series of police mug shots and began explaining how right after I had been assaulted, a police patrol had come upon the group. The group, which he revealed to be heavily drunk and intoxicated, smashed the patrol vehicle and injured some of the officers who were in it. I do not remember if he said they got backup or if it was the original set of officers, but somehow they managed to arrest most of the people that were there.

                As he flipped through the images I remember being jarred at how familiar they looked yet how different they were from the shadowy paranoia infused version of them in my memory. One of them was a musician who I had taken photographs of earlier at a live show. Photographs I was quite proud of. I wondered what he was doing there.

                He said that the group of people were suspected to belong to a dangerous gang that had already committed several assaults that year. I vaguely remember him saying something about them belonging to a “red list” or them being “red listed”.

                So after taking my statement, and explaining to me how these known and dangerous gangsters had attacked the police themselves, he asked me if I would testify in court with my statement. It was at that point that I began to suspect that he wasn’t really concerned about my case as much as theirs.

                I told him yes, I would testify, but only if I could do it anonymously and only if they could guarantee some measure of protection for me.

                You’ll be right across them in the courtroom he said. It would really help the prosecution, these gangsters had attacked a police officer, he said.

                I stared back at him dubiously. So you can’t do anything? I asked. Even though you just said these “dangerous gangsters” are “red-listed” and were already responsible for countless assaults?

                Yes, he said with a hopeful smile. It would help the case. They attacked a police officer.

                If they get convicted, how long would they be going away for? I asked.

                About three months he said. They would be out after that. It would help the case. They attacked a police officer.

                No way, I thought to myself. No way I was helping this person who couldn’t even be bothered visiting my house. No way was I helping an organisation that didn’t seem the least bit concerned about my safety. Three months was not a long time, and if I was going to be exposed to them during the trial, it meant I’d probably be stabbed and dead in some alleyway for snitching before those months even ended.

Besides, the officer hadn’t really asked me about my feelings at all. About why I wanted anonymity.  About whether or not I felt safe walking around in the city that he was supposed to be protecting.

                All of a sudden as I stared blankly at his face I felt like I empathized more with my assailants than the police. They didn’t attack me because they hated me. I wasn’t some target. They attacked me because I had stumbled into the middle of their drunken rampage and they were in the middle of a drunken rampage because society had given up on them.

                A few months before the incident, I had become familiar with a group of kids who were riding their BMXs on the half pipe that used to be across from Raalhugandu. They loved riding their bikes and they had lovely personalities made even more colourful by their rather interesting vocabularies.

                A lot of them also had scars. The oldest barely looked like he was 15, and they were already riddled with scars. Scars from fighting. Scars from helping defend their older brothers and themselves when they were under attack.  Their lives made the significance of my assault inconsequential in comparison. They were from the poorest neighbourhoods, they had lived the most challenging lives wrought with constant danger and uncertainty, yet still there they were, cracking jokes and trying to become better at riding their bikes; bikes that would eventually get stolen by their enemies, on a half-pipe that would eventually fall into disrepair, because it was individuals that created it, and individuals can only do so much when living under the constant shadow of government apathy and negligence. Youth such as them are the unsung survivors of our constantly growing nation.

                So I told the officer No; that I wouldn’t testify. Why would they need me, when they had several police as eyewitnesses to the attack on the patrol jeep? Why should I risk my wellbeing just to send people that were as much victims of the system as I was of them to jail for three months? And to help a bunch of people who only seemed to see my value as a witness to help bolster their case and not as a citizen and human being? What possible good would that do any of us?

                He asked me if I was sure, and I said I was, and we went back and forth for a few minutes, and that was pretty much it. I left the station feeling betrayed, confused, and full of more questions than when I had arrived.

                Slowly but surely life returned back to normal. Except that it never did. The night of my assault was the night I feared most for my life, and the days following were when I was the most paranoid, but the day I that I attended my summons at Police HQ was the day I completely lost faith in the system.

                In the wake of Rizwan’s disappearance, the Police responded to accusations of inefficiency and negligence by saying that people, the media and political parties should refrain from saying things which may cause distrust in their institution and abilities.

                To which I ask, how can you break a trust which has never existed in the first place?

                Has there ever been a point in Maldivian history when the police have done their job properly? This question may sound preposterous, but please take a few minutes and think about it. When was there a time when the citizens could trust the police to protect them? A time when you could walk up to a random officer on the street, and they’d know you and you’d know them, not because you are a criminal, or they your enemy, but because you recognised each other’s part in the community as being one rooted in altruistic symbiosis?  They working to protect you, and you working to make the community they protect better, so that the lives of people on both sides are enriched. In our criticism of the police, we must not forget that they are people too; people with lives outside of their job, people with families they work tirelessly to support, people with hobbies, people with dreams; unique individuals, just as yourselves.

                If you are a police officer reading this, I hope you see this as reasons to improve, to make your profession as a police officer something both yourself and the community can be proud of. This can only be achieved by the police assessing and improving itself and understanding the importance of community policing instead of current approaches. The most important aspect of community policing is actual dialogue between the police and the citizens they are supposed to protect and serve. All we see you as right now are as traffic police and as riot police. This doesn’t mean this is what we want and neither is it all you were meant for. We want to trust you to protect and serve, so that we as citizens can continue to make our nation better, no matter what our political alliance or personal beliefs.  We want to see you as our friends. Our allies.

                Raising your voice about your concerns and experiences as an individual is the first step in achieving this; whether you are a member of the police, a citizen, or anyone else who is concerned about the future of our nation and the world.

We were all raised in an environment that was hostile to such expression. We were told that everything is OK and to go about our lives no matter what happened, no matter what we heard. Higher powers were taking care of us, higher powers were keeping us safe; and as long as those higher powers were happy, it would continue to be so.

Ahmed Rizwan is not the first Maldivian citizen to go missing and it is unlikely he will be the last.

Where are those higher powers now? Where were they in the past? Where were they when the batons that were meant to protect were smashing skulls against the pavement on the 8th of February 2012 and the many protests before that?

How are citizens supposed to respond to such savagery at the hands of those whose livelihood is about keeping them safe?

Hatred will only spawn more hatred. In fact hatred between citizens and the police is what those higher powers want. In ensures that the police will only serve and protect the interests of those higher powers and not carry out their intended role of serving and protecting the community. It ensures that citizens will regard police as enemies and that productive communication between both parties will never occur.

So what are we supposed to do?

We do what Ahmed Rizwan has been doing his whole life. We continue to do what the people that do not want him found and the people that do not care about his disappearance are constantly trying to eradicate with their hatred.

We will speak out. We will express ourselves. We will listen to each other. We will do what humans do best. We will communicate and we will think.

We will appreciate each other as human beings from a shared heritage; hurtling through space on this planet we call our home.

                We are all Ahmed Rizwan. And if we give up on him, we might as well give up on everything and accept the apathetic utopian future that awaits us; a future born of our silence, self-loathing and material greed.

                We are all Ahmed Rizwan. If we cannot find him, or find the strength to speak out for him and make light the broader social issues that his disappearance represents, surely we have lost ourselves.

                We are all Ahmed Rizwan. Speak out now. He would have done the same for you.

More info on efforts:
#FindMoyameehaa
facebook.com/findmoyameehaa
www.findmoyameehaa.com

The Maldivian Prison Riots of 2003

The riot I will analyse in this essay are the riots that took place in the Maldives in September of 2003 after the deaths of Evan Naseem and several other inmates at Maafushi Jail. I will focus mostly on the death of Evan Naseem and the riots at Maafushi jail rather than the subsequent linked riots in Male’, the capital. I will first start with some context to the situation in the Maldives, after which I will present a timeline of events which I will attempt to analyse, explain and discuss using sociological theory using a critical realist approach. I have chosen these riots because I believe they represent a turning point in Maldivian history that has not yet been properly examined. My main sociological reference will be the journal article “The State and Collective Disorders: The Los Angeles Riot/ Protest of April, 1992” by Bert Useem (1997).

The Maldives is an archipelago consisting of over a thousand islands which lie south of India and Srilanka. The Maldives has a long and cultured history, and was an independent sultanate for most of its official history until becoming a British protectorate from 1887 until 1965. The first attempt at a Republic, led by President Mohamed Amin Didi on January 1st 1953, would only last until August 21st of the same year. In 1968 the Sultan was once again deposed after a referendum and Ibrahim Nasir became the first president of the newly independent republic. He would be replaced by Maumoon Abdul Gayoom in 1978, who would rule as president until 2008. A report by the Asian Human Rights Commision referred to his tenure as “An Omnipotent Presidency” where the office of the Presidency governs every aspect of Maldivian political life. The president was vested with interventional powers, in regards to the affairs of parliament, that the report stated as being “in contrary to all modern norms of constitutionalism and separation of power” (Asian Human Rights Commission  2006).

It was during Maumoon’s 30 year rule that Evan Naseem was incarcerated at Maafushi Jail on a drug conviction at age 16 in July 2001. He would die 2 years later on the night of September 19th 2003. The events of that fateful night would cascade and change the course of Maldivian history forever.

Useem (1997 p358) states that theorists of resource mobilisation / collective action (RM/CA) apply an approach to the study of social conflict that:

1. Recognises the state as an independent entity that can affect the broad course of social change

2. Embraces the idea that government officials may act upon their own interests and policy preferences, rather than serve as a transmission belt or referee for societal preferences

3. (yet) maintains that factional conflicts and administrative disorganisation may prevent government elites from achieving their interests.

Furthermore he states that in a riot of serious magnitude, authorities make choices in a complex and uncertain environment. He states that Supervisory personnel (“command”) must handle unpredictable problems as they arise, but their own mistakes may only add to the confusion (Useem 1997 p358).

There are two broad types of strategies that can be employed by state officials facing the threat of a riot or rebellion (Useem. 1997 p360). These include diplomatic strategies, which are efforts to convince potential participants that a disturbance would be costly to them personally, counterproductive for reform, and unnecessary because their grievances will be addressed in the future. The other main type of strategies are force strategies, which are efforts to physically inhibit mobilisation; this can include massive shows of force, with the implied or explicit threat that it will be used against rioters/protestors, that likely instigators or participants will be arrested or put in detention, and that crowds will be dispersed as they form (Useem  1997 p360). I believe that the Maumoon regime used a combination of both of these strategies before, during and after the Evan Naseem riots in order to quell rebellion and maintain their control over the Maldives.

Due to the authoritarian nature of Maumoon’s regime, very little official academic literature exists on these events. The regime chose to suppress and veil rather than investigate transparently. Even though an investigative committee was formed by Maumoon’s government (Daily News 2003), the contents of the report have been said to incomplete after a review and another investigation was ordered under President Mohamed Nasheed in 2011 (Minivan News 2011). However that report was never completed and Mohamed Nasheed was forced to step down in a coup that occurred on February 7th 2012 (Al Jazeera English 2012) (Paul Roberts 2012). The members of the original inquiry panel themselves faced difficulty in gaining information; for instance their attempt at obtaining CCTV footage of the night of Evan’s death proved fruitless as the data was allegedly already overwritten (President’s Office 2003). Furthermore the inquiry completely leaves out the events of the next day when four inmates were shot dead and several were injured. In addition the inquiry does not acknowledge the role played by the culture of torture and violence present in the Maldivian correctional system (Minivan News 2010). For these reasons my reconstruction and analysis of the events will additionally rely on eye witness testimonies of people present at Maafushi on the night of the 19th and people present in the capital Male’ on the 20th.

At the time of Evan Naseems death in 2003, there was no separation of Military and Police and responsibilities of both insititutions were covered by the umbrella of the NSS or National Security Service (President’s Office 2003). Maafushi Prison was mainly under the care of the Department of Corrections with the Maafushi Jail Security Unit from the NSS assigned to maintain security and vested with the “general responsibility” to guard the perimeter of the jail (President’s Office 2003 p.5.2.1). Despite this, MJSU were also charged with the responsibility of looking after Block C or Investigation Jail-1 – the unit in which Evan Naseem was being held.

In an interview given to UncuffedMV.com, an independent website dedicated to sharing the stories of torture victims within the Maldivian prison system, Ali Shinaah describes his first-hand account of the night of Evan’s death (Ali Shinaah n.d). Shinaah was imprisoned for a drug offence and he describes the situation at the time as being incredibly brutal. He said that there would be regular beatings, where inmates who were suspected of offences such as smuggling tobacco or phones into the prison, would be rounded up and beaten at a place that was called the ‘range’. He says that sometimes this would involve being cuffed in standing position to a palm tree or an iron ring for weeks. He says that he was in the same block as Evan when it was raided sometime before the 19th. He says that the MJSU personnel threw their clothes into the toilet and as a result the aggravated inmates began to throw stones. He says that the situation escalated and that he and several other inmates, including Evan and an imnate called ‘Ammakalhey’ (who was killed on the 20th), were transferred out of the block and put into separate cells in an area was called the ‘galhi falhi’ (literally stupid-side) by the inmates which was next to the ‘Gudhan’ side (warehouse). When correlated  with the findings of the official inquiry, this area appears to be Block C (President’s Office 2003). He says that since a phone was discovered on Evan during the raid, he was taken to Dhoonidhoo (another prison island) for investigation (Ali Shinaah n.d). He said that upon his return he was placed in the ‘Gudhan’ side instead of the ‘Galhi falhi’. He says that on the night of the 19th there was a loud racket coming from the ‘Gudhan’ side and that a force of officers went into investigate. He says that one of the inmates from the ‘Gudhan’ side were saying that Evan had been seriously beaten and had been taken out to the ‘range’. According to the official inquiry this was when the order came to remove several inmates from that unit and after Evan protested that he did not deserve to go the range (President’s Office 2003). The inquiry confirms that Evan was correct in his grievances as he had not been involved in the doings that the other inmates were being taken out for. According to the inquiry, Evan, refusing to leave, hit Private Ishaq Ahmed, one of the members of the MJSU (President’s Office 2003 p4.3-f) with a piece of wood, which led Captain Adam Mohamed to command “all the assembled members of the Security Unit to go to the cell” and remove Evan in order to transfer him to the range. The inquiry concludes that this was an “irresponsible order issued without regard to either the risk of maltreatment Evan faced from the members of the unit or the extent of their anger towards him” (President’s Office 2003).

According to Shinaah (Ali Shinaah n.d) this caused the inmates on the “Galhi falhi’ to also create a commotion and himself and another inmate called Maujoo were cuffed together and taken out to the range; which at the centre he says there is a workshop, behind which is a row of toilets. He says that at the range he was beaten further and that while this was going on he could hear Evan screaming for mercy from the direction of the toilets. According to the Presidential Inquiry Evan was handcuffed with his arms behind his head and in a standing position to the steel bars on the eastern wall of the workshop; where he was beaten by at least 12 MJSU personnel who in addition to using bare hands, used wooden planks, riot batons, and the boots that they were wearing (President’s Office 2003 p43.21). Shinaah says that the people who were beating Evan came around from behind them while he was being forced to do knuckle push-ups and told him to say that he was “size zero”; which he says they meant as meaning slave. When he responded with “size one hundred” instead, he was slammed on his head with a baton after which they began to beat his back. When they could not stop his shouting he says they put sticks in his mouth which he spat out, after which two men dropped a large piece of wood onto his back. He says that his ordeal came to a stop after a Sargent nicknamed ‘Daulat’ (literally ‘regime’) came over and ordered them to stop the brutality. He says that he and the other inmates were ordered to face in the opposite direction of the workshop and that they were told that they would be punished for looking behind them (Ali Shinaah n.d). Shinaah said that at the time he was already on the ground and that he couldn’t resist looking behind him. He says that his turn of the head was met with a swift baton blow which missed his head and clipped his ear. This gave him enough time to witness officers dragging something wrapped in a canvas towards the direction of the workshop (Ali Shinaah n.d).  I believe these details are important as the riots would occur the following day in the prison and ultimately in the capital would not have happened if there was no knowledge of Evan’s fate. They also help illustrate how the culture of violence appears to be an expected and not at all unusual part of the correctional system.

The next morning, as news of the previous night’s events spread among the prison, inmates demanded a meeting with a correctional officer about the circumstances of Evan Naseem’s death (Maldives Culture 2003). There were no response to these demands and after refusing to eat lunch, Islamic funeral prayers were conducted by the inmates for Evan around midday. The inmates apparently prayed in loud voices so that the guards would know exactly the type of prayer they were performing and who they were praying for (Maldives Culture 2003). After the prayer was over the inmates left the praying area and pushed over a small shed made of corrugated iron near the duty officer’s tent. As the news kept spreading the number of prisoners grew the rioting spread towards the NSS buildings that the officers were retreating to (Maldives Culture 2003). They were met with a force equipped with riot gear. At this point an unnamed “old” NSS officer who was standing next to Fusfaru (the Officer Commanding or OC of the prison) raised his hands, asked everyone to calm down and called on everyone to try and solve the situation through dialogue(Maldives Culture 2003). Although some of the mob calmed themselves, the rest did not, which caused the officers present to panic (Maldives Culture 2003). One of the officers (allegedly called “Appa”) shot a single bullet into the air after which the officers opened fire on the group, killing Abdullah ‘Clinton’ Ameen, Ahmed Shiyam and Ali Alsman and injuring 17 others as they tried to flee (Maldives Culture 2003). The bodies of the dead inmates, including Evan’s, were transferred to Indhira Ghandhi Memorial Hospital (IGMH) on the capital island of Male’ that same day (Uncuffed: Torture Victims of Maldives. n.d).

I believe the brutality present in the Maldivian correctional system is indicative of a broader culture of violence and marginalisation perpetuated by the Maumoon regime. Most of the inmates killed and injured that day were undergoing sentences for drug offences and are from impoverished backgrounds. As the Maldives only has welfare for aged citizens, I believe this would encourage them more or less to seek opportunities in the criminal economic sphere; which includes activities which cannot be undertaken legally in the economic sectors, either on or off the books. In addition there are reports that it is very difficult to obtain employment if one already has a criminal record.  The frequent beatings and terrible conditions indicate that the prison system is more focused on dehumanising punishment rather than any form of rehabilitation.  I believe this has led to a significant amount of offenders becoming criminalised and marginalised as a result. For instance term “partey” – derived from “partu” which is derived from “partner”, originally used as a term of friendship amongst prisoners – is a common slang term in Dhivehi that often used to stereotype and alienate people with criminal and often disadvantaged backgrounds or relations by upper classes in a somewhat similar way the word “bogan” is used in Australia.

However, I believe that the riots that occurred on Male’ were not a result of their criminal activities, but rather the release of tension that had been building up in the Maldives due to the activities of the Maumoon regime (Asian Human Rights Commission  2006). I believe that Maumoon and his associates can be classed as a criminal family; especially in the light of how his younger brother is the current President of the Maldives after the coup of 2012 and the controversial elections of 2013 (openDemocracy 2013) (The Independent  2013). Maumoon would fall into the category of “omission-implicit” for the crimes committed by his state (Kauzlarich, Mullins and Matthews 2003); due to the human rights abuses committed by his regime and the human suffering which may have been avoided. Even though stories of brutality in the prison system were common, it was not until the 20th of September 2003 that those stories crystalized in the eyes of the public as a tangible reality. Furthermore strict control over state broadcasters and independent media meant that transparent information about the regimes activities would always be difficult to obtain by the general public (Asian Human Rights Commission  2006).

When Evan’s body was handed over to his family for burial, his mother, Mariyam Manike’, pulled the shroud off her son’s bruised and battered body and asked the gathered crowd to bear witness to the very visible and apparent signs of abuse (Uncuffed: Torture Victims of Maldives. n.d).

Abdul Raheem, who is the father of Abdulla ‘Clinton’ Ameen, describes the events of the 20th in another interview to UncuffedMV. He says that he kept getting reports that his son was dead but he kept refusing to believe the shocking news until he finally got a call from his sister in law, a nurse who works at the hospital. He says that upon arrival, it was only after much insistence that the body, which was still connected to an IV drip even though he was obviously deceased, was handed over to the family. He says that both the entry and exit wounds the bullet had made were clearly visible on his sons head. I believe this is an indication that the Maumoon regime were trying to conceal information regarding the inmates from the public.

As the stories of the fate of Evan and the other inmates spread throughout Male’, people began to take to the streets to demand justice; eventually damaging / burning government buildings and vehicles. Information on the timeline of events during the actual riot is murky and there is almost no local or international news that has a coherent or objective report of what happened on the 20th. The riots in Male’ led to Maumoon declaring a state of emergency after deploying the NSS onto the streets of Male’ and enforcing a curfew from 2200 to 0430hrs for almost an entire month.  It would be a tactic he would continue to employ in the riots that would occur in the following years (Asian Human Rights Commission  2006).

While the prison system established by Maumoon would be an example of a Coercive Institution; the majority of the tactics employed by the regime for control, at the superficial  level atleast, are diplomatic. I believe this allows the visible elements of the regime to save face in the eyes of the public while blame for deviant behaviour by the regime can be passed onto people of lower rank that can then be said to be acting independently.  In his address to the nation, which was broadcast in response to the riots over Television Maldives (TVM) and Dhivehi Raajjeyge’ Adu (or Voice of Maldives) – the state broadcasters and only broadcasters), at 8PM on the 20th, Maumoon initially claimed that the prisoners involved in the Maafushi riot were attempting to access the armoury and said that the bullets fired only into the air as a deterrence against the very “violent” and “dangerous” mob;  implying that the precision shots to the heads of inmates were accidental and done only as a last resort (Haveeru Online 2003). Furthermore the content and delivery of his speech gives the impression that the death of Evan Naseem was a completely separate and unrelated event. This is in contrast to reports from inmates that they were not even aware of the existence of the armoury and that there was no conspiracy to take over the prison beyond protesting Evans death (Maldives Culture 2003). In the conclusion to his speech he said that people should “behave well” and head back to their homes, saying that the protests in Male’ were only the result of criminal elements taking advantage of the situation to cause chaos,  and that an official inquiry into the events of Maafushi will be launched – to be spearheaded by a panel of “independent” and “upstanding” citizens; promising that those responsible would be persecuted to the full extent of the law and “shariah” (Haveeru Online 2003). 

His speech demonstrated the use of several neutralisation techniques. His transfer of blame of the treatment of inmates towards the individuals present at the time, rather than acknowledging the culture of torture and maltreatment, is an example of a denial of responsibility (Sykes & Matza 1957 p667). Denial of injury and denial of victim (Sykes & Matza 1957 p668) were used to an extent with the claim that the prisoners were all dangerous and attempting to gain control of the armoury the implication that the subsequent use of force was necessary. The targeted arrests of pro-human rights and democracy activists (Asian Human Rights Commission2006) that had been occurring under his regime both before and after the Evan Naseem riots is an example of the condemnation of the condemners (Sykes & Matza 1957 p668). These tactics rely on the denial strategies of splintering the event, blameshifting and a combination of individualising, normalising and isolating the event from the past/future.

The eventual outcome of the riots and growing public dissatisfaction was the acceleration of democratic reforms in the Maldives and would foreshadow the “Black Friday” riots of August 2004. These riots, which began as demonstrations calling for the release of four arrested activist/reformists (BBC News 2004), were the result of the resistance that had been slowly building up against Maumoon’s regime since 1978; the exact dynamics of which would be quite interesting for future resource mobilisation / collective action based analysis. The 2004 riots would be the largest in the country’s history and would result in the arrest of 90 people and the Maumoon regime taking drastic measures such as temporarily cutting off the internet for the whole country (Reporters Without Borders 2004). The growing pressure against the regime, both internally and from a less naïve international community, would cause Maumoon to put in effect the reform process that would eventually lead to the Maldives electing Mohamed Nasheed as president after having its first multi-party democratic elections in October of 2008. Nahseed’s presidency would not last long, with Maumoon loyalists using demonstrations and riots themselves to manipulate the events leading up to the coup of 2011 (The Independent2013).

I believe this case study demonstrates the complexity of the construction of crime; especially when those crimes are being committed by the institutions that were created to prevent them (Becker & Bruce 2007).

References:

 Al Jazeera English . 2012. Maldives president quits after 'coup' - Central & South Asia - Al Jazeera English . [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.aljazeera.com/news/asia/2012/02/20122813513480256.html. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Ali Shinaah n.d | Uncuffed: Torture Victims of Maldives. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.uncuffedmv.com/evan-naseem-interview/ali-shinaah-1. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL. Protests in paradise: Repression in the Maldives 10/11/2006. . [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.amnesty.org/en/library/asset/ASA29/009/2006/en/3d6e0559-d3d8-11dd-8743-d305bea2b2c7/asa290092006en.pdf. [Accessed 14 April 2014].

Asian Human Rights Commission . 2006. MALDIVES: The Human Rights Situation in 2006 . [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.humanrights.asia/resources/hrreport/2006/Maldives2006.pdf. [Accessed 24 April 14].

BBC News. 2004 State of emergency for Maldives . [ONLINE] Available at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/3561340.stm. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Becker, Paul J. & Bruce, Alan S., 2007. State-Corporate Crime and the Paducah Gaseous Diffusion Plant. Western Criminology , Review 8, 29-43.

Daily News. 2003. Gayoom appoints Presidential Commission to investigate inmate's death. [ONLINE] Available at: http://archives.dailynews.lk/2003/09/29/new26.html. [Accessed 26 April 14].

Haveeru Online . 2003.- މާލޭގެ ހާލަތު އިއްޔެ ވަރަށް ނުރައްކާތެރި ހިސާބަކަށް ދިޔުމާ ގުޅިގެން، ދިވެހި ރައްޔިތުންނަށް ރައީސް ކުރެއްވި އިލްތިމާސަށް ރައްޔިތުންދެއ. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.haveeru.com.mv/dhivehi/news/8423. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Maldives Culture. 2003. Murderous NSS rampage at Maafushi, prisoner tells - September 2003 - Maldives Culture. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.maldivesculture.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=214&Itemid=42. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

YouTube 2014. Maldives Forum: Turning Point - YouTube. [ONLINE] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGOkYqNeHwI. [Accessed 14 April 2014].

Minivan News . 2010. Torture Victims Association to seek justice over human rights abuses | Minivan News . [ONLINE] Available at:http://minivannews.com/politics/torture-victims-association-to-seek-justice-over-human-rights-abuses-2366. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Minivan News . 2011.Committee to probe 2003 Maafushi Jail shooting | Minivan News . [ONLINE] Available at: http://minivannews.com/politics/committee-to-probe-2003-maafushi-jail-shooting-24491. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

openDemocracy. 2013. The Maldives: a serial coup in progress? | openDemocracy. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.opendemocracy.net/civilresistance/stephen-zunes/maldives-serial-coup-in-progress. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Paul Roberts. 2012. 2012 Maldives coup: background and analysis. [ONLINE] Available at:http://news.uk.msn.com/world/2012-maldives-coup-background-and-analysis. [Accessed 24 April 14].

President’s Office . 2003. INVESTIGATIVE FINDINGS ON THE DEATH OF HASSAN EVAN NASEEM - A TRANSLATION . [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.uncuffedmv.com/sites/default/files/Investigative%20Findings%20on%20the%20death%20of%20Hassan%20Evan%20Naseem.pdf. [Accessed 24 April 14].

Reporters Without Borders. 2004. President Gayoom cuts off Internet links with outside world - Reporters Without Borders. [ONLINE] Available at: http://en.rsf.org/maldives-president-gayoom-cuts-off-internet-13-08-2004,11137.html. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Sykes, G. M and Matza, D, 1957. Techniques of Neutralization: A Theory of Delinquency. American Sociological Review, 22 No. 6 , 664-670.

The Independent . 2013. 'They came to power in a coup, They will not leave': There may never be an election, claims former leader of Maldives - Asia - World - The Independent. [ONLINE] Available at: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/they-came-to-power-in-a-coup-they-will-not-leave-there-may-never-be-an-election-claims-former-leader-of-maldives-8895102.html. [Accessed 26 April 2014].

Uncuffed: Torture Victims of Maldives. n.d. Evan Naseem | Uncuffed: Torture Victims of Maldives. [ONLINE] Available at:http://www.uncuffedmv.com/evan-naseem. [Accessed 14 April 2014].

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All photographs © Hani Amir

Dear Humans #AEONXZA

Dear Humans.

We shall call you this because this is what you call yourselves.

It has come to our attention that you just aren’t getting it. We thought the signs would be enough.

Unfortunately for the both of us, those signs were misinterpreted. 

We should have been honest. We should have told you more about your power.

We exist beyond the constraints of time of which you are enslaved.

Know this.

This enslavement is only an illusion.

After your death does your flesh disappear into the nothingness of what we call the void?

Or does it get absorbed back into the unselfish soil?

Are you so naïve to think that all of eternity stops with the escape of your last breath?

The trees do not judge. But that is not to say they do not feel much, for they feel everything from the steely cut of winter to what you humans sometimes mistakenly refer to as love.

Rather than marks in their flesh, they would much prefer you to have buried yourself at their feet.

At current growth rates, if every human were to have a tombstone, by the end of the millennia the world would be covered in graves and there would be no more space for trees.

No more space for you to worship death.

The trees do not judge; and if you wanted immortality bury yourself beneath one – but only after you have ensured that the cycle has been fixed so that the tree will survive.

The endless cascades from which you have evolved have gifted you with a gift that makes you unique amongst the current denizens of your planet.

You, yourself and you alone, possess the ability to not only fix, but alter the cycle; ultimately affecting the flow of the cascades.

You did not evolve so that your thoughts could please some deity.

You did not evolve so that your bodies could become slaves to numbers on paper.

You did not evolve to live out your lives serving your aimless machine.  

In fact, the rather uninteresting truth is that you did not evolve for any particular purpose at all.

Your dimension is a slave to the forces of time and chaos.

The irresistible forces of change bought upon by this perpetual discord result in a reality that is neither static nor predictable.

Those truths… are the only truths and thus; the only true truth is that there is none.

This is not to say that there is no use to stories; as you human… you have the sacred ability to not only understand them, but also to write your own.

By this we are not saying that you are the most intelligent.

The magnificent creatures which you refer to as whales know more about this reality than you would ever fathom. With this wisdom, they are content with exploring the earth’s depths, never straying from out of the cycle from which they have been bound.

This is not to say that they do not improve themselves.

Because of their desire to communicate, and the advantages that come along with it, primitive grunts eventually became the sombre melodies which used to haunt every corner of the endless indigo deep.

It is not only on your plane that you can feel the vibrations.

We feel their loss in ours too.

With their songs they conveyed messages of love, joy, adventure, hope, loss and sorrow.

And unlike you, who has so valiantly built & destroyed entire civilisations based upon the emotion, they feel no need for hatred.

The ocean is a cold enough place.

Let their fading chorus be a testament to your power in affecting the War of the Aeons.

The trees do not judge but the whales remember.

Yes, you humans have a lot of power.

Perhaps this is why you fight for it so much.

At which point of consuming a carcass together do two vultures begin to turn on each other?

How much meat isn’t enough?

Instead of asking that question, perhaps it would be better to ponder on the fact that there simply isn’t enough.

Or perhaps we were lying and the vultures were in a field of sheep carcasses covered in wolves clothing.

If there was unlimited power available freely for all, would there be anyone still willing to fight for it?

Would there be anyone still willing to barter their soul for something which that they had already attained?

On our plane, we have little use or hunger for power beyond the use of what you humans call a probability, a hypothesis, a concept… a metaphor.

We exist only to observe.

The same however, cannot be said of you.

You human… you exist to question.

But in the same way that we are doing more than observing by relaying this message, it can be said that both of us exist to do more than we were meant to.

Pay no heed to those that claim otherwise.

You will hear from us again.
Until then pay attention to the cascades as they shape themselves around your fingers.

Sincerely, 
The Aeons of Chaos

The Sustainable Fishing Practices of Dhivehi Reef Fishermen (and how the resort industry is screwing them over).

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The sun sets as the fishermen make their last attempts at a catch. On that particular day they were after a shoal of yellow-fin tuna, a delicious and high valued fish, that they had the luck of finding.  

During my time at the Marine Research Centre of the Maldives as a research trainee, I was fortunate enough to go along on one of their reef-fish tagging expeditions to Baa Atoll in February of 2009.

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Marine Research Centre researchers tag a Blue Fin Trevally or Fani Handhi as it is known in Dhivehi. 

We would go out with the fishermen on their fishing trips during which we would record the daily catch, tag specimens and retrieve tags from specimens which had been released earlier.

We would almost always leave in the early twilight hours and would often not return until it was nearly midnight; dropping off hundreds of kilos of fish to one of the many resorts in the atoll.

For me the most interesting part about all this was not how they catch tons of fish with their hands, instead of nets or rods, or even how they get paid next to nothing by greedy resort operators (more on that later in this article), it was how they would almost always start off the cycle with nothing.

They did not leave bait for the next day and they did not buy it.  

Every morning they would head out to find a good reef and on the way there they would use trolling lines to catch that all important first fish. It would usually be one of the many predatory fish which lurk along the edges of the reef like a latti.

They usually only needed to catch one as their plan was much more elegant than simply slicing the fish into bait chunks.

Instead, they would grind it into a fine chum, which would then be placed inside a jar or similar waterproof container.

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A fisherman collects the chum he has createdinto a water-tight glass jar

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The men make a team and spread out to search a wider area for bait fish

Once they were satisfied that they had enough, the search would begin for a reef which housed an adequate number of muguraan or fusiliers. They would usually do this by sight, slowly driving along the edges of different reefs, instead of relying on fish-finders or other devices.

One a shoal was spotted, the Dhoni would be left to drift near the top of it and a man would sneak into the water; making sure not to make too many splashes incase it scared the fish away.

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One of the men spots a shoal 

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He makes sure to swim silently, disturbing the water as little as possible. 

He would wear a mask, snorkel and fins and in his hands he would hold the jar full of chum.

He would slowly sink down until he hovered in the liquid space above the shoal. He would then open up the jar and release into the crystal water a few pinches of the ground up flesh

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A slow and steady descent; almost to the bottom of reef.

At first the muguraan would act disinterested, but a few would suddenly break formation to swim up and nip at the fresh fish.

It would perk the interest of more and more of the palm sized fish and the man would slowly lead them upwards, away from the relative safety of the ocean floor.

After a while the whole shoal would be in frenzy, with even a few other species of fish joining in to try and get at the chum.

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The net descends. The fishermen make sure to catch only the bait they are targeting. 

While this is happening, the dhoni would pull alongside the shoal and a team of men would descend into the water, after dropping a weighted net that usually spanned the length of the entire vessel.

They would dive deep below the elevated shoal and surface on the opposite side; neatly encircling it.

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The net would then be hauled back in and the fish would be placed into one of the many sea-water filled tanks in the hull of the dhoni where they would be kept alive for the rest of the day.

If they hadn’t caught enough by this point they would simply use one of the muguraan for chum and repeat the process.

Despite the few courageous stragglers, the catch would almost always be entirely made up of different species of muguraan; exactly the kind of live bait that reef-fish find irresistible.

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Close-up of Muguraan shoal

Bait hull full, they would set out to find a channel or reef where they can finally begin to catch the large reef-fish species from which they make their daily bread. They do this with handlines, using the muguraan as both live bait and an attractant; with one of the men throwing fistfuls of the live fish out over the reef. 

Because of the targeted nature, and also because the net never touches the bottom of the reef, I found this method of bait procurement and fishing to be incredibly efficient while having a marvellously low impact on the environment.

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The catch is stored in the hull until they reach the resort. Here you can see a variety of fish from snappers and groupers to jobfish and trevally. Juveniles and unwanted fish are usually released back. 

These men work long and hard beneath the scorching tropical sun in order to support their families.

Many have sun damage in their eyes because they do not own sunglasses to protect themselves from the harsh reflections of the sun against the ocean.

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Their lifestyle is worlds apart from the techno-centric denizens of the capital and the comfortable air-conditioned rooms of the resort owners that treat them so poorly. They work tirelessly to catch enough fish to earn a living while the overwhelming majority of the resorts treat them like slaves. They bought the fish at a per kilo rate that was abysmally low for the effort and work they put into catching it.

 As I recall back then (in 2009) they were being paid less than a dollar per kilo of fish that would later be sold to tourists at exorbitantly inflated rates per fillet. Indeed most of the justification for the prices they sell these premium dishes tourists for comes from the freshness of the fish. No doubt they are subconsciously misled to believe that the fishermen are being paid well.

The irony of it is that it’s not hard to imagine more forward thinking people paying them extra because of the sustainability of their methods. Just imagine how difficult it has been to convince some fishermen in other countries to give up practices such as dynamite fishing and trawling for example.

We asked some of the men if they had ever requested a raise and they replied saying that many of the resorts responded by threatening to import the fish instead. The livelihood of the fishermen, to the resort owners, was expendable and inconsequential; in other words, the fishermen weren’t selling the fish to the resorts, the resorts were allowing them to sell it to them as if they were doing them some favour.

“They said that if we protest and ask for more money, they can easily import the fish we provide at even cheaper rates, what are we supposed to even do? We wouldn’t even have this money then!” said one man.

The resort owners and managers were thus insidiously aware of the power they wielded over the fishermen as they were the ones who controlled their income.  

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In some ways the hardest work only begins for these men at the end of the day. 

A few resorts would even make the men de-gut and prepare the fish for free, which would leave them at the resort for many hours into the night of what had already been a long and exhausting day. All of the resorts made them thoroughly clean up after they were done but from memory there was only one resort which provided adequate space and hygiene facilities for this task. The happiness the men felt whenever they sold to that particular resort was obvious on their faces and the manner with which they handled themselves during the task. By comparison, when gutting fish at other resorts, where the “facilities” would consist of a tiled floor with a few taps, there would always be an unease hanging in the air; a sickly feeling of unacknowledged oppression, broken only by the cheerful wisecracks that the men would pull on each other to lift spirits and break out of their tired daze.

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The rays gathered near the Dhoni in anticipation before the men had even stepped off from it. 

To add insult to injury, one of the resorts even forbade them to bring in the fish via the service docks. Instead they were forced to dock their dhoni at the edge and then wade through the lagoon until they reached the beach. To get there, they had to pass through a shoal of enormous stingrays (it is common practice for resorts to regularly feed and “tame” them), which attacked the sacks full of fish with much vigour.

Disgusted, several other Research Centre employees and I went to try and speak with the manager to see if he was aware of the situation. It turned out that he, even though he was a Maldivian himself, was more than aware and was instead rather pleased with himself for coming up with the arrangement. His justification was that it kept the service docks clean of blood and insisted that it would be terrible for a tourist to have to see such mess. The sting rays, he insisted, “were not that big a deal”.

He said this with a straight face and an expression which seemed as if we should be thanking him for this great service. It didn’t help his case that the service docks, being what they were, were barely even seen by guests at all during the daytime; let alone at the late hours (often after 10PM, sometimes as late as midnight) that the fishermen came through.

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With their methods they show a natural love for the environment that was not born of books and research but from the sheer experience of having to rely on nature for their sustenance. They never admitted it or acknowledged it, but I could tell that they knew that their methods were just. They could easily use much more damaging methods of fisheries and increase their haul, exploiting the reef in the manner that the resort owners are exploiting them, but for some inexplicable reason they don’t.

They care too much for these waters. They know every fish by name, they know every reef, they know every little uninhabited island that would eventually be turned into a resort and they knew what would come with that resort; the chains of oppression, disguised in the promise of opportunity and riches. More than anything else, most of the men seemed to know who they were. They were men of the sea and they did not struggle with themselves to accept that identity. Their ancestors had sailed these oceans since time immemorial. Long before the Mayflower, long before Mohammed, Jesus, or even Buddha had been born, Dhivehin had already started their love affair with the ocean. With handlines, determination and skill they would catch amounts that would make a trawler captain blush in shame. They knew how to fish and they were superb at it. They loved the ocean and the ocean loved them back.

They were also among the nicest and most humble people I have ever met.  

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This blatant exploitation and disrespect towards the artisans of our nation’s oldest profession by greedy businessmen is unacceptable and is one of the greatest unspoken tragedies of our island nation.  

All photographs © Hani Amir. 

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