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Erica Anjum

Africa Featured Society and Culture The International Economy

Old Problems, New Scapegoats

By Erica Anjum

Africa is a continent of profound diversity. Nonetheless, many African countries share something in common: most are considered “underdeveloped.” While there have been several theories advanced as to why, recently some African politicians have suggested that homosexuality is to blame for Africa’s problems.

Many African states have long had anti-gay laws in place, but for the most part, they remained neglected. However, 2014 witnessed the passing of new laws and the implementation of old ones in several states. For example, the Kenyan Penal Code defines “…carnal knowledge of any person against the order of nature…” as a felony punishable with up to 21 years of imprisonment. While this law has existed for decades, Kenya has only recently undertaken aggressive enforcement. Meanwhile, on January 7, Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan signed a new law prohibiting same-sex marriage. Uganda’s President Yoweri Museveni followed suit and signed a similar law into effect only a month later.

These laws go well beyond banning gay-marriage. For instance, in Nigeria, any show of love between two people of the same sex can now earn offenders up to ten years in jail. In Uganda, the death penalty was originally proposed as a punishment for same-sex relationships. This was ultimately changed to life in prison before being passed. Moreover, authorities frequently deny bail to individuals arrested on charges of homosexuality.

Politicians and legislators are not the only ones expressing anti-gay sentiments. Animosity seems widespread amongst the general public. For instance, Bauchi State in Northern Nigeria follows both the Western style penal code and Sharia law (by which sodomy is punishable with death by stoning). Earlier this year in Bauchi, thousands of protesters gathered outside the trial of seven men who allegedly belonged to gay organizations. As the mob turned violent and began throwing stones at the accused, the judge halted the hearing and ordered the guards to return the defendants back to the safety of the prison.

Similar events have unfolded in many African countries, coupled with a growing focus on anti-gay laws. What explains the recent trend in targeting homosexual behavior?

Kwado Osei-Opare, a Ghanaian doctoral student in UCLA’s History Department, points out that it is important to remember that homosexuality is not new to Africa. Throughout history, African societies have tolerated, or at least ignored, some forms of LGBTQ relations. The yan daudu subculture in northern Nigeria is one such example. Yan daudu translates to “men who act like women” and members have peacefully coexisted with the Hausa Muslim communities in the North for over a century. The recent legislation and social hostility has broken that peace. Osei-Opare suggests that Western colonial powers first introduced the labels and negative attitudes towards homesexuality currently prevalent. These norms were eventually institutionalized. He points out that, ironically, much of the international pressure on African Governments to protect gay rights now stems from ex-colonial powers.

One theory analyzing the current trend suggests that the recent expansion of anti-gay sentiment stems from a continuance of culture clash between Western and traditional African values. However, the situation may not be that simple.

The recent wave of anti-gay legislation can also be viewed as an attempt to divert attention from the political, economic, and social issues national leaders have thus far failed to mitigate. In many of these states, while politicians have employed corrupt means to privately profit from national resources and revenues, the government has failed to deliver on promises to citizens for better lives. For example, Nigeria has an abundance of natural resources, most notably oil. While such abundance should improve the lives of citizens, profits from oil have primarily benefited a handful of elites. Politicians have lined their own pockets, sharing the wealth with a few select supporters. Meanwhile, many Nigerians struggle to make ends meet. General awareness of such practices have resulted in political leaders losing support and credibility over the years.

Within this context, advancing anti-gay laws have provided a way for politicians to distract the public from the problem of corruption and simultaneously rebuild a dying support base. For instance, Museveni’s support of the new anti-gay bill is one of his few actions that has garnered popular approval from Ugandans as of late. This strategy has enjoyed success because, unfortunately, despite their awareness of corruption citizens often have no power to increase government accountability and effectiveness. Lacking outlets, they focus their frustrations on other issues and sometimes lash out against each other. Political leaders have made the most of this. While they privately profit through corruption, leaders publicly express their opinions against homosexuality and sign laws into place. The LGBTQ community thus serves as the most recent distraction and scapegoat for problems that have long plagued many African states.

While some of the recent developments stem from endogenous factors, the clash between Western norms and traditional values have shaped events in important ways. Many Western nations have expressed alarm over recent developments. The United States government has been fairly conservative on the topic: President Obama’s response has been limited to reiterating that Americans value equal rights for all. His administration has also set aside $3 million for organizations dedicated to protecting gay rights in other countries. Britain, on the other hand, has been much more aggressive. Prime Minister David Cameron recently declared that Britain would begin to withdraw aid if African leaders continued to support anti-gay legislation.

Unfortunately, such statements may have caused more harm than good. Although Cameron initially directed his statement at Ghanaian President John Atlas Mills, leaders and citizens from many African states have responded in outrage. In an already tense atmosphere, Cameron’s statement has served as a rallying point. Some people care about the LGBTQ issues, but others are more perturbed by what they perceive as continuing Western interventionism and bullying. Many Africans have consequently interpreted Cameron’s statement as an attempt to superimpose Western values on traditional African societies and as an affront to national autonomy. Furthermore, African citizens and leaders have been especially critical of the fact that the same countries that are attacking African policies have failed to agree on these issues within their own borders.

There is a striking difference, of course, between unresolved debates over gay marriage (such as those ongoing in the United States) and discussions surrounding life imprisonment and the death penalty. The latter is viewed internationally as an affront to fundamental human rights. Despite national claims to autonomy, African states willingly participate as members of the global community. This membership can render many benefits, but it also entails a special relationship between national autonomy and international norms. Members are expected to adhere to internationally established guidelines such as human rights laws. At the least, each country may be subjected to scrutiny over how international norms are embodied within national politics.

In the face of such scrutiny, accusing Western states of cultural hegemony adds nothing of value to the argument. African leaders and peoples have complained in the past that even in the post-colonial era, they continue to be marginalized from world politics and treated as recipients rather than partners. If African nations wish to author a new story, they must join the conversation rather than retreating behind stale boundaries between western and traditional values.

May 20, 2014 0 comment

Security and Conflict Technology UCLA and the World

“Show, Don’t Tell”: Advice for Anyone with a Phone, Camera, or Keyboard

written by Erica Anjum

By Erica Anjum

Samantha Power was in the building. Schoenberg Hall, UCLA, to be exact, on February 23, 2014.

Although Ambassador Power is the United States’ permanent representative to the United Nations, she was not there to divulge the secrets of the White House or the UN. She was there as a former journalist.

After a roundtable discussion with a few students harboring their own journalistic ambitions, Ambassador Power addressed a much larger audience for the Twelfth Annual Daniel Pearl Memorial Lecture and discussed the relationship between journalism, public opinion, foreign policy and international relations.

Social issues had drawn both her and Daniel Pearl to journalism, and had transported them far from home. At 23, a young Samantha had relocated herself to Yugoslavia and set up shop as a freelance journalist.

From the title to the last sentence, her words not only reported what was happening on the ground, but they were also charged with emotion and conviction. They rang with the challenge of someone looking you in the eyes and asking, “This is what is happening. What are you going to do about it?”

By established standards, past and present, journalism should be factual; moreover, good journalism should be neutral. Ambassador Power’s articles were not neutral then, but neither are most journalistic endeavors now. Some people lament the loss of neutrality in journalism, and others question whether it was ever a reality to begin with. Ambassador Power’s articles and her lecture at UCLA, titled “The War on Truth (and what we must do to win it)” suggest that due to the very nature of some topics, journalism cannot be, and more importantly, should not be neutral.

Journalists take risks with their own lives when they travel to unstable and violent regions. The risks they take, however, leave them with both power and responsibility. Modern technology makes it easier for the common man to share his stories today, but in situations with graphic and massive human rights violations, journalists are often in the best position to give people whose rights are being violated and lives taken voices loud enough to be heard internationally and immediately. They can contextualize the local into the global, raise awareness, and shape public opinion and emotions. In the process, they can ultimately provoke and impact foreign policy by rendering issues that may not be of direct geopolitical significance or of concern to national security as part of the intervention and aid agenda.

In this way, journalists hold an immediate power: by raising awareness, they can push governments to stop atrocities in their tracks. They also hold a more long-term power: the research for academic articles and books, generally esteemed as the reservoirs of knowledge, usually takes place long after events have passed, when witnesses are dead and much evidence has been shoved under the proverbial rug. Often, the only indication of what is happening, what happened last month, last year, or ten years ago is through what journalists produce. Thus, while their stories have the power to compel people and governments to act now, what journalists record in the present also contains the potential to shape the future.

These powers and the attached responsibilities have not changed since Ambassador Power was in Yugoslavia and Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, but there have been significant developments in the field.

As a journalist, Ambassador Power was able to make a living as a freelancer because the print media allowed for the same article to be syndicated across multiple newspapers, magazines, and journals at a profit. Professional journalists today generally cannot make a living as freelancers anymore; everything is online, and consequently, content cannot be repeated. Technological innovations, however, have also spawned a new breed of “journalists.” Armed with camera-phones, everyone is a witness; in the world of hashtags and blogs, anyone can be a reporter. They may not have degrees or paychecks, but they have opinions that can reach thousands in minutes. These citizen journalists are also sometimes killed for their actions, just like their professional counterparts.

This new breed seems far removed from the likes of Samantha Power and Daniel Pearl. It should be remembered, however, that while their names and careers are now famous, both the Ambassador and Daniel Pearl began their journeys as ordinary people interested in what was happening around them, and who were determined to share what they saw. The current phenomenon is in essence a decentralization of both power and responsibility: everyone can be aware and everyone can raise awareness. This not only makes it more difficult for dictators to muffle the truth, it also addresses the issue of the media only reporting the truth as they see fit.

As more people take on the role of informal journalists, events as they are unfolding in a variety of places can be shared through many voices. As multiple perspectives converge to tell each story, the truth behind every incident can be much better recorded for present and future generations. While some writers and the stories they have told may one day become extraordinary, the future lies in the possibility to engender things unextraordinary. The best way to win the war on truth is to render the truth common to tell and common to find.

This overall shift from professional to popular journalism corresponds in an interesting way with Ambassador Power’s transition from a journalist to a politician. Her speech at UCLA did not suggest that she is now any less concerned about the human rights issues that once drove her career as a journalist. On the contrary, her words resonated with the values of someone who still cares deeply about the atrocities witnessed on the ground, then and now. Her responsibilities have not changed, her target audience has. As a journalist, she focused on public opinion; as a diplomat she focuses on persuading policymakers in a bureaucracy which in her own words “aggregates the slowness of 193 governments.”

The roundtable discussion preceding the lecture was meant to be an opportunity for budding journalists to receive advice from a former professional. However, the message implicit in the discussion and the speech came from someone who has been watching events unfold from the perspective of both a journalist and a diplomat. Ambassador Power described the events leading up to Daniel Pearl’s murder as a “catastrophic alchemy of us vs. them.” This alchemy continues to fuel cycles of retribution taking individual lives, fanning genocides, trampling rights, and burying the truth in the process. While we may not all find ourselves caught in the middle of these violent dialogues, we each have our roles to play. These roles may change over time: Ambassador Power’s responsibility now is to help design an effective response through institutional machinery. Meanwhile, in a new era in which every individual is armed with the technology to fight, we each share the burden once reserved for professional journalists to bring the truth to light.

March 17, 2014 1 comment

Middle East Society and Culture Women's Rights

Tweets to Toyotas: Slow but Steady Progress for Women’s Rights in Saudi Arabia

written by Erica Anjum

By Erica Anjum

A young woman in Orange County, California, theoretically has access to the same opportunities as a young man; except, it is still socially acceptable for her not to take advantage of her rights. As the most coveted variety of freedom is one that is easy to casually reject, in some ways and in some places today, it is better to be a woman than a man. In Saudi Arabia, however, it is definitely still highly preferable to be a man.

In both developed and developing nations, women continue to be denied rights, and in places, personhood. In the landscape of gender-inequality, Saudi Arabia remains perhaps the most notorious for its treatment of women in contemporary times. Even conservative neighboring states such as Yemen, where women stroll the streets shrouded head-to-toe in traditional black burqas, cite proudly that at least their women can drive and vote.

Nonetheless, the last few decades have witnessed monumental strides for women’s rights in Saudi Arabia: public education has been made available to women since the 1960s, and they now comprise over half of college graduates. Women have permission to work, although they only represent 14% of the current workforce. Furthermore, in 2011, King Abdullah announced that women would also be allowed to vote and run in municipal elections for positions in the Majlis Al-Shura (a government advisory group), although not before 2015. For the first time in history, a Saudi woman was even sent to the 2012 Olympic Games in London.

There is a catch, however, to all of it: male guardians (fathers, brothers, husbands) still choose whether the women in their families can pursue education, work, travel, who they marry, and whether they can seek needed medical attention. Women must still be accompanied by male relatives when they leave the house, must adhere to strict dress codes; and of course, Saudi Arabia remains the only country in the world where they are still not allowed to drive. Moreover, laws to protect victims of rape and domestic abuse are weak and insufficient at best.

The status of women in Saudi Arabia has historically been systematic and institutionalized: expectations and exclusion are formally incorporated, upheld, enforced (and deviations punished) via the legal framework. More so than the actual status of women which is certainly in itself deplorable, this institutional aspect is perhaps what has encouraged such widespread and eager criticism of Saudi practices: during this more enlightened era, it is wrong to criticize the culture of another people, but it is always acceptable to criticize their government.

However, institutions are culturally embedded and this may pose an even bigger challenge to progress than the laws themselves. For example, the October 26, 2013 “Driving Protest” inspired men like Sheikhs Nasser al-Omar and Mohammed al-Nujaimi to quickly organize and voice their concerns to the King. These men fear that further extending rights to women will lead to the overall moral debasement of Saudi society and may also have long-lasting political consequences. Behind these fears, the suspicion persists that Western imperialism, and perhaps even an intentional attempt by foreign powers to weaken the Kingdom, lurks underneath progressive platforms. Consequently, not only are activists socially persecuted, stalked and threatened, success at organizing and protesting is often swiftly met with indefinite periods of incarceration.

Surprisingly, many of the kingdom’s women quietly back the rightist hardliners. Some have even formed women’s groups to guard against the evils of Western culture penetrating and defiling the Kingdom’s values and politics. While there are activists within the country, their inability to gain popular support over the years and orchestrate a mass protest demonstrates how deeply ingrained conservative traditions are throughout most of Saudi society.

Interestingly, even activists such as 60 year old psychologist Madiha al-Ajroush state that they “don’t want to break any laws,” while pursuing their agenda. Thus, it appears that even the rebels have not broken free of the culture of acquiescence long imposed on women via Saudi traditions. Nor do they seem to be in a hurry to divorce such values as they pursue progressive reforms.

Furthermore, as the Saudi brand of Islam is almost indistinguishable from the local culture, dissatisfaction with change often surfaces as accusations of un-Islamic behavior. For instance, Princess Reema Bint Bandar al-Saud, who runs a Harvey Nichols Department store in Riyadh, recently received a phone call from an irate customer regarding the Princess’s choice to play music in the store. The complaint came from one of her most frequent shoppers-a woman who has spent thousands of dollars during each of her many visits.

Princess Reema decided to do away with the music but has continued to push for something even more controversial: building a staff of female employees. While the Princess believes women’s empowerment and inclusion are imperative for the Kingdom’s future prosperity, the women who work for her are frequently driven by more immediate economic needs. For them, joining the workforce generally is not a political statement, act of rebellion, or even a matter of pride. In fact, they and their families often hide the truth from others like teenagers hide tattoos from their parents. The laws may have relaxed, but the taboos remain strong.

Amusingly, conservatives may be right to worry about Western imperialism shaping Saudi culture and politics, albeit not through the direct and targeted interference by foreign governments that the Sheiks have generally feared. Travel, education abroad, social media, and satellite television have proven to be highly effective vectors for transferring cultural values. As this 21st century form of imperialism has resulted from simply opening channels for information exchange as well as increased mobility across borders, it is more difficult to combat. War cannot be waged against some foreign “other” as the perpetrators are the country’s own citizens.

For example, Princess Reema’s father served as ambassador to the United States for 17 years: she herself grew up in Washington D.C. and attended George Washington University. Her American upbringing and education has no doubt influenced her outlook and drive for strengthening the role of women in Saudi society. Likewise, women such as Madiha Al-Ajroush and the others who participated in the Driving Protest, learned how to drive and obtained their licenses abroad.

Of course, a few rebellious princesses and well-to-do professionals will not be enough to precipitate constitutional changes. Before any laws pass, cultural values must shift at a more popular level. Fortunately for the rebels, it does appear that exposure to the norms and practices of other cultures is slowly shaking the rigid adherence to traditions which has characterized the nation’s men, but more importantly, women, for so long.

Meanwhile, the activists continue to have humble goals. They are neither looking for a revolution, nor for an aggressive campaign launched by sympathizers from neighboring and distant nations to help their cause. They do believe, however, that a new generation that has wholeheartedly embraced the global culture of hashtags and retweets can ultimately bring about the progress they have so long waited for.

February 24, 2014 0 comment