How does more snow equal global warming?
Article published on GlobalPost.com on February 11, 2010.
by Tim Fitzsimons
BOSTON — You may not have heard of “Climategate” or the “hockey stick controversy.” But that doesn’t mean you haven’t found yourself thinking like a climate change skeptic lately.
Perhaps you’re reading from Washington, D.C., marooned at home by a second consecutive blizzard. Or maybe you’re in Scotland, which just recorded its coldest winter in more than a century. Maybe you’re just a little too cold to feel like the world is getting warmer.
"There’s nothing like a very cold winter to convince another percentage of the American public that global warming is not happening,” said American University professor Matthew Nisbet at Harvard University this week.
Indeed, the Republican Party in Virginia seized on the mid-Atlantic “snowpocalypse” to produce an advertisement criticizing Democrats in Congress who support "cap-and-trade" policies that provide economic incentives to reduce pollution emissions.
The ad advises viewers to call their representative and “tell them how much global warming you get this weekend. Maybe they’ll come help you shovel.”
(The ad has since been pulled from YouTube, possibly because of the highly negative coverage it generated.)
But weather hasn’t been the only thing raining on the climate change parade. A long list of setbacks have fanned the flames of climate gloom since the breakout 2006 Al Gore documentary “An Inconvenient Truth” energized public attention toward the issue.
As China rose earlier than expected as the world’s top CO2 emitter, followed by a worldwide economic downturn, fewer people list climate change as a top priority.
Throw in the failure of the Copenhagen talks to produce a substantial climate agreement. The percentage of people worldwide who doubt the research backing climate change continues to grow.
Why such a change in the climate of public opinion?
Prisoners of art
Bernard Khoury and Akram Zaatari at Beirut Art Center
by Tim Fitzsimons, NOW Staff
Are Lebanese artists prisoners of war? A provocative new exhibit by renowned Lebanese architect Bernard Khoury posits that they are. In a show at the Beirut Art Center on display through October 3, Khoury uses images from various Lebanese artists, including himself, to suggest that contemporary Lebanese art is trapped in an endless cycle of reference to the 15-year civil war. However, if Khoury illustrates the dilemma facing contemporary Lebanese artists, a divergent – if in final calculation complimentary – exhibit is being shown simultaneously at the center. “Earth of Endless Secrets” by Lebanese artist Akram Zaatari suggests a possible way out.
The architect’s apparatus
Bernard Khoury is perhaps the most internationally acclaimed architect currently working in Lebanon, and he has produced some of the few icons of post-war design in Lebanon. Khoury’s most feted buildings, the Gemmayzeh restaurant Centrale and the Karantina night club BO18, are critiques, with Centrale riffing off quaint notions of preserving Beirut’s architectural heritage, while BO18 confronts the legacy of the civil war directly though its location on the site of a famous massacre and by employing coffins as its central motif. Those buildings made Khoury an international star, but they also helped pigeonhole Lebanese contemporary art in the eyes of foreigners, who seemed to say, “If it’s not about the war, we’re not interested.” In his exhibit at the Beirut Art Center, Khoury attempts to take the ax to that somewhat-debilitating association.
“Prisoner of War”, described in the catalogue as an “apparatus”, is a man-sized sculpture that resembles a miniature version of an iconic and sinister-looking American stealth bomber, without the wings. It sits on the floor bathed in light. Behind it, a video of the sculpture in motion plays on the wall.
The captions for the work, under the faux-militaristic heading “Concept of Operation”, reads: “The POW is a self-propelled apparatus for the use of returning Prisoners of War to enemy lines.” The screen behind the sculpture plays a video of this journey from the two cameras fitted in the front windows of the apparatus. The two feeds, much like two eyes, show a ground-level view as a POW shuffles over rubble to commands of “Straight! Right! Left!” being shouted in Arabic.
The sculpture on the floor at BAC is empty, but the video and the description create for the viewer an understanding that is based on its imagined use. There is no view out, so as “prisoners” return across enemy lines, they are forced to act as an intelligence-collecting tool: the ultimate Trojan Horses. The prisoner always remains blind to, yet protected from, his surroundings.
On their own, Khoury’s apparatus and video – which were designed for a different exhibition in Italy – are perplexing. It is only in the third piece, “Catherine Wants to Know”, which Khoury designed especially for the current exhibit, that the thrust of his message becomes apparent. The photomontage consists of images of the civil war by well-known Lebanese artists. We see the Cedars in snow with skiing soldiers floating down the slopes, the mountains and the city in war, soldiers by the sea, a military jeep, painted colored balloons, Khoury’s own BO18, children by the beach, and, finally, the POW sculpture in use with human arms emerging from under it – a landscape of the war. The cumulative effect is to elucidate and mock the plight of the contemporary Lebanese artist, trapped in a cycle of endless reference to the civil war.
The artist’s answer
At first glance Akram Zaatari would seem to be just the sort of artist Khoury is critiquing in “Catherine Wants to Know”. Indeed, Google Zataari’s name and the first hit describes him as “exploring Lebanon's postwar condition through collecting testimonies and various documents…”
Zaatari’s focus on a Lebanese prisoner of Israel would seem to be subscribing to the dichotomy Khoury mocks; that Lebanese artists must address the war in some manner or another unless they want to be ignored. But by taking an almost microscopic focus to the experiences of a single individual, Zaatari’s “Earth of Endless Secrets: Writing for a Posterior Time” transcends the conflict itself.
The exhibit, the other half of which is featured at Sfeir-Semler Gallery, is a photographed correspondence of a single prisoner, Nabih Awada, a former member of the Communist resistance in Lebanon. Nawada was first imprisoned by Israel when he was 16 and didn’t regain his freedom until a decade later.
“Secrets” consists of two series of photographed documents: “Neruda’s Garden”, which features images of Awada’s letters to his family and theirs to him; and “Untold”, which features Awada’s correspondence with his fellow prisoners and a video.
In one sense the work has a documentary interest independent of its artistic merits. For instance, in the “Untold” video, Awada writes a letter to Samir Kantar, the most infamous of the Lebanese prisoners held by Israel, which he put into a capsule, making reference to the way in which secret messages were passed through furtive prison kisses. Also in “Untold”, 48 photographs of prisoners with notes scribbled on back are displayed, showcasing correspondences from prisoners to Awada, or “Neruda”, his revolutionary nickname.
While many of the messages displayed reflect the emotions we associate with detention, namely boredom and misery, others are unexpectedly comical: “Comrade Nabih… A revolutionary greeting… I offer you this portrait of me… I ask you to accept this one even if it’s ugly… If you like it, then welcome. Otherwise, goodbye… Finally, please accept my cold salutations, kneaded in a mountain of ice. Peace, Ali Balhas, Askalan Prison, July 21, 1995.”
The photo-notes were permitted only after a 1993 hunger strike forced the hand of the Israeli captors, and there is a certain irony in the notion that a decision by a random Israeli bureaucrat is partly responsible for the window into the world of resistance prisoners of Israel that Zaatari has put together.
The most affecting images are in “Neruda’s Garden”. Written on Red Cross stationery—prisoners are warned in bold letters at the top of each page not to discuss anything other than personal family matters—Awada’s letters to his mother are tender and meticulously illustrated.
In addition, Zaatari features two large photos of the collected correspondences, from both sides of the divide. In the photo, his mother’s worn satchel holds his letters from prison, but the viewer notices the care with which the notes are folded and meticulously organized. Like the folder Awada created to hold his mother’s letters, her satchel and the thoughts it contained were the one connection she had to him, and so she cared for it in his absence, endowing it and its contents with his missing personality.
“Secrets” draw attention away from the loud, postwar hysteria to the silent little economy of emotions that persists in spite the best efforts of his jailors. By focusing on unadorned evidence, Zaatari creates a work that is more interested in the human condition in captivity than any broader political argument.
Jethro Tull at Byblos
Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull front man, sings in Byblos. (NOW Lebanon)
I didn’t really know what to expect as I walked into the Byblos amphitheater, hovering as it does on stilts over the calm evening Mediterranean. Lebanon is not the first place one would look to find a thriving Jethro Tull fan base. Ian Anderson, the band’s flutist-front man, is 61 years old and before the Lebanese Civil War was even over, the band was releasing a “20 Years of Jethro Tull” retrospective.
As we sat and waited for the set to begin, a most mysterious omen shot through the overcast sky – too low and bright to be a shooting star, too high and horizontal to be a firework. As I searched for a deeper meaning of this sign, fireworks from countless weddings sparkling here and there over the gorgeous Jbeil hills distracted me. I soaked up the beautiful scene, Crusader castle and ruins behind the stage, Mediterranean Sea behind me. A note on Mr. Anderson’s flute – that famous, unmistakable flute – drew me out of my daydream and triggered memories of childhood I didn’t even know I had. He began to play.
Jethro Tull has always been about Mr. Anderson’s flute playing. As the band progressed through its set, he attacked his little steel tube with his lungs and his voice and his tongue and his whole body, contorting and hurling around with a nymph-like energy that did not betray his old age. The little paunch that protruded from behind his vest reminded the audience that this was 2009, not 1967, but little else did. Anderson’s voice sounded a bit strained, but no music ever sounds like its recorded album – especially forty years on. The sound we know him best for, his flute playing, sounded as energetic and exciting as it did when he first became famous, which is no small feat. The songs in which his flute didn’t feature prominently fell a little flat, but luckily they were infrequent.
“Now for something more recent,” he said, “from...1969.” The crowd laughed appreciatively. He transitioned from one song to another, interspersing his playing with a few jokes, playful like the band’s lyrics. Before beginning his famous jazzy take of Bach’s “Bourée”, Anderson noted that “you can never really kill a completely good piece of music.” Indeed, maybe that is why Jethro Tull still sounds so good: there has always been something strange and uniquely good about Jethro Tull’s music. At times a cross between rock and roll and Medieval court music (literally so, as Anderson pointed out before playing “Pastime with Good Company,” which he attributed to King Henry VII), the band is hard to pigeonhole. Just when you begin to think you know where a song is going, the band switches direction and hits a couple of power chords or a pummeling flute solo and enters a whole new genre of music.
Was the audience at Byblos composed of Jethro Tull diehards? Probably not. Aside from the requisite and electrifying final song, “Aqualung,” Jethro Tull’s most famous single, the crowd was decidedly calm, enjoying the relaxation of being at the concert in beautiful Byblos as much as they were enjoying the music itself. I’d venture a guess that they were more like me: my point of reference of the band comes from my Father, whose cassettes and, later, CDs, sent Anderson’s piping through my childhood home as he hammered nails and fixed things. And so my understanding of their music – learned from childhood proximity, no avid listening – is probably like that of most of the crowd. Jethro Tull is famous because it has made unique music that sticks with you, and this concert was no exception.
(This is the original version of an article that was published on NOW Lebanon on July 20, 2009.)
“Fete de la Musique” starts off a rocking Beirut summer
Rapper Malikah dishes rhythm at Martyr’s Square at Beirut’s Fete de la Musique.
The Lebanese tend to be cautious before being optimistic. Take this month's parliamentary elections: everyone expected everyone else to be in the streets fighting over the votes, and so they stayed home. The result? No violence, but also empty restaurants.
Good news here is also tempered with caution. Once a top world tourist destination, Beirut has worked on regaining that mantle since the end of the civil war in 1991. Downtown has been rebuilt by Solidere, but it is routinely criticized for being comatose and Disneylike. Occasional spasms of political violence have emptied the city and downtown’s wide pedestrian-only streets, leaving only a few Sukleen men (metaphorical tumbleweeds) to remind visitors of how barren it looks when abandoned.
But Beirut has always bounced back. Last summer was largely successful, and May’s events faded from the collective psyche as normalcy seemed to settle over the city. And this year, after being named the top destination for 2009 by the New York Times, Beirut breathed a deliberately soft sigh of relief, wondering if for the first time in years its summer would be free of the events that have in the past so quickly turned lives upside down. It’s difficult to forget that the last time a summer was going as swimmingly, Israel attacked and scuttled much more than just the lucrative summer tourists.
So far, this young summer has passed – ominously, luckily, unexpectedly – calmly. And last night, summer’s first and longest day, the solstice, Beirut played host to an international music festival that demonstrated that the country is well on its way to having a perfect summer. Fete de la Musique, an international music festival organized through France’s Culture Ministry, was enough of a success that I am willing to go out on a limb and call this summer for Lebanon and for Beirut.
The Iranian elections’ impact on Lebanon
Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad casts his ballot Friday at a polling station in Tehran. (AFP/FARS NEWS AGENCY/Ebrahim Norozi)
Just halfway through 2009, three major elections that will have major impacts on the Middle East have already occurred. In January, the United States inaugurated Barack Obama; in February, Israel elected a right-wing government headed by hardliner Benyamin Netanyahu; and last weekend in Lebanon the March 14 coalition won the parliament majority. Today, one more election – this time in Iran – is bringing voters to the polls to cast their ballots in what has been a hard-fought campaign.
The choices Iranians are faced with as they enter the polling stations today appear stark – two hard-liners, President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Revolutionary Guard Commander Mohsen Rezaii; and two reformists, former Prime Minister Mir-Hossein Mousavi and former Speaker of Parliament Mehdi Karroubi. But the fact that four candidates are running means there will likely not be a clear winner declared immediately, and there will probably be a runoff a week after the election.
The two blocs – reformist and conservative, each divided between two candidates – will likely coalesce around whichever two men come out on top. The most talked-about candidates in the running, Mir-Hossein Mousavi and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, are expected to perform the best.
But despite the seeming polarization of the camps, there are few big issues that separate them. And even fewer issues pertaining to Lebanon’s internal affairs or national security are up for debate.
All candidates support organizations such as Hezbollah (whose coalition’s recent defeat in the Lebanese elections could be seen as a blow to Iran’s role in the region) though Mousavi, who has been focusing on the economy during his campaign, did say it would be financially and politically unwise to continue funding outside groups, and that the president should instead focus on domestic issues.
In fact, the debate over how to manage Iran’s tanking economy (inflation is at 28%) seems to be the most central, and will likely be the issue that determines the final outcome of the elections.
The issue at stake in Iran that most likely affects Lebanon is Tehran’s negotiations with the United States, as Iran will likely use its connections with Hezbollah as a card in any talks.
All candidates agree that negotiations are necessary, but analysts believe that a reformist president would pursue discussions with the United States more wholeheartedly.
For example, a report on the elections by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace says that Mousavi “advocates negotiations [with the United States] as long as Iran is not required to ‘pay a heavy cost.’” President Ahmadinejad’s denial of the Holocaust and threats toward Israel would make it difficult for America to engage fully.
However, the president of Iran is limited in his ability to pursue foreign policy items on his own as Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei is much more powerful in such matters.
Dr. Amal Saad-Ghorayeb, author of an upcoming book on Iran’s regional alliances, told NOW Lebanon that not only does the Supreme Leader control many of the country’s important institutions, but many of the overall themes of Iran’s foreign policy are actually written into its constitution, which “talks about helping the oppressed... Muslim unity [and] anti-imperialism.” Saad-Ghorayeb said that because of these restrictions, “there is no way a grand bargain can be made by the executive branch alone.”
The one area of foreign policy that the president of Iran can influence is perception and rhetoric. The combative styles of both President Ahmadinejad and former US President George W. Bush stoked tensions between the two countries and pushed them even further apart. Since US President Barack Obama has moved to a dialogue-based approach, the room for understanding between the two countries may have increased significantly. “If a reformist does win, I think we will see a period of détente,” said Saad-Ghorayeb. “I think we will see more conciliatory tactics, we’re going to see more dialogue. And even if the ultimate end will not be any different, that will relieve people temporarily. It’s a temporary reprieve on the foreign policy issue.”
But any possibility of such a breakthrough depends on the election of a reformist, the likelihood of which is still unknown. The Supreme Leader, however, has lent tacit support to hardliner Ahmadinejad, who has stood strongly behind Hezbollah and increased Iran’s support to the group.
Furthermore, many believe Mir-Hosein Mousavi is not as much of a reformist as he portrays himself to be, and, according to Haaretz, was in fact the Iranian leader who began the country’s pursuit of nuclear weapons when he authorized the purchase of centrifuges.
Successful dialogue with the United States may relieve some of the tension between it and Iran, and a reformist president could change the level of the country’s support of and aid to Hezbollah.
The people of Iran – and the world – must wait for the results to see.
Article published in NOW Lebanon on June 12, 2009.
Talking to: Blogger Qifa Nabki
Blogger Elias Muhanna, man behind the blog "Qifa Nabki".
Elias Muhanna, the man behind the blog Qifa Nabki, is a Lebanese blogger whose commentary has appeared in The National, Foreign Policy and other publications. In the run-up to the Lebanese parliamentary elections, Muhanna and his blog were cited and quoted widely in both the blogosphere and the mainstream media. His posts provide unique analysis of Lebanon’s politics for readers around the world, with witty reflections on the possibilities for cabinet formations, and even revealing taxi conversations.
Muhanna, a PhD candidate in Near Eastern Studies at Harvard University, sat down with NOW to discuss Qifa Nabki and what the elections mean for Lebanon.
What is your background?
Elias Muhanna: My family lives here, I’m Lebanese and my mother is American. [I] lived here during the beginning of the civil war and then my family left in the early 80s, and I grew up mostly between Lebanon and Cyprus, so living in Cyprus but coming back and forth during the war. [I] went to college in the US, and… am doing graduate school now. [After I get my PhD,] I’d like to get an academic job and work as a professor, that’s my goal… if I could get a job at AUB, I wouldn’t turn it down; that would be great.
How long have you been writing the blog?
Muhanna: I began the blog in the beginning of October [2008]…my dissertation process began last year…the research for the dissertation began roughly around the time I started the blog.
How did you get into blogging?
Muhanna: I had spent a lot of time reading a lot of blogs [about Lebanon and Syria]. Arab-Israeli stuff too… I disagreed with a lot of what people were saying in the comment sections, and I sort of wanted to debate the issues, and I ended up making a lot of friends… and discovering that many of the contributors were extremely intelligent and had a lot of arguments that I never even encountered or considered. There are certain things that we would still disagree about, but a lot of those people I now count as close friends, and we are respectful of each other’s positions... So, I did a lot of that kind of thing and I thought I’d like to start my own.
What’s the story with the logo?
Muhanna: It’s a detail from a painting that I discovered and I really liked... Since then, I felt kind of sheepish about the fact that it had become the head of Qifa Nabki’s blog and so I actually got in contact with the artist to see if he would be willing to sell me that painting… and so this summer I will actually, hopefully, be able to purchase [it].
What does Qifa Nabki mean?
Muhanna: Qifa Nabki is the first two words of maybe the most famous pre-Islamic classical Arabic poem, and it means, literally “Halt, you two, and let us weep.” It’s sort of the iconic image that begins a lot of classical Arabic poetry, where the poet, this desert nomad, is traveling through the desert with some companions and he happens upon the place where his beloved’s tribe had been encamped and she and her tribe have since moved on… He says to his companions: “Let us stop and let us weep for the memory of a beloved,” and it became a standard trope of a lot of this poetry, and to anyone who has studied Arabic poetry, it’s instantly recognizable, so it’s almost like calling a blog “To be or not to be.”
How popular is the site?
Muhanna: It began with a smattering of hits, and gradually over time – I think because of the elections, there’s a lot of interest, and these things just build, I guess. Every month there have been more and more hits.
What do you think about the media situation in Lebanon today?
Muhanna: I wish there were more responsible media outlets providing more balanced criticism on both sides of the aisle. You can’t find that anywhere. The pro-March 14 media are strident in their support of March 14, [and] the pro-opposition media is incredibly partisan as well… nobody seems to be looking at both sides and criticizing them in a balanced fashion. That’s what I’m aiming for on the blog, but I don’t know how successful I’ve been.
Do you think these were Lebanon’s first free elections since 1975?
Muhanna: I definitely think this is the first free election in decades. To me, 2005 was a one-issue election; it was basically a referendum on Syria. It was run using the 2000 electoral law, which had so many problems in it, and then the way the cabinet was formed and the way the various players participated… it was a disaster. This election, although it was still very much waged on the basis of sectarian language and clan… there was sort of a more issue-based approach, even if the issues were only a couple, like Hezbollah’s weapons and the state vs. reform… But more importantly, there was real competition. We didn’t know who would win this election, and that’s a big thing.
Does the opposition view the results as a backlash against their policies or demography?
Muhanna: I wouldn’t be surprised that some people would think that [Free Patriotic Movement leader MP Michel] Aoun was hurt by his alliance [with Hezbollah]. It’s clear from the numbers that the places in which he won, he didn’t win by nearly as much. I think over the next couple of weeks both sides are going to feel each other out… Nobody really wants to rush into a standoff or a deal; they want to get a sense of each other’s red lines, and try to come up, if a veto [the obstructing-third vote] is not in the offering, some other kind of thing.
What about the calm on elections day?
Muhanna: Another thing that Paul Salem said yesterday [at a Carnegie Center post-election debriefing] was “the fact that in an Arab country, ordinary citizens could determine who is going to govern and who is going to sit in the opposition, all on a quiet Sunday, is a pretty remarkable thing.” I think everybody was shocked by just how amazingly low-key it was. Last weekend was totally chill. There wasn’t even that much celebration afterward.
Is there a battle over the obstructing veto looming?
Muhanna: As of right now, it’s not looking like there’s going to be a huge battle over the veto...which is kind of weird. What was it about this particular result that convinced people to climb down a little bit? If March 14 had won by 70 seats instead of 71, would [March 8] have said, “oh well we’re going to go after the veto.”
Why has Hezbollah acted so conciliatory?
Muhanna: I don’t know, that’s a really good question… There are a lot of factors in play. First of all, [the veto] is totally unconstitutional. In the past there was a debate whose basic premise was when Hezbollah joined the government, the Siniora government back in 2005, they did so under an agreement that was made, under the cabinet decree… Now the situation is totally different and Hezbollah understands that. March 14 didn’t need Hezbollah’s help to get elected, nor did they need the help of the president or independents. They were a non-factor. So it’s difficult to make the case now that you’re for a veto when there is no constitutional basis for it. So I think this is why they are being more conciliatory. Who knows, maybe behind closed doors they have no intention of giving it up.
Is March 14 in a stronger place? Will Saad Hariri be prime minister?
Muhanna: The position is his to take. If he wants to be prime minister, there is no alternative to him. Everybody will accept him. I just don’t know if he wants to be prime minister… I still have a feeling that [Tripoli MP Najib] Mikati is going to step in. Mikati played a really excellent role in the transitional cabinet between when Omar Karami’s government fell back in 2005, and when March 14 won... And the fact that he has very strong ties to both Damascus and to Riyadh makes him an ideal fit for this period that we’re in right now. He’s incredibly eloquent; he’s just a very good speaker... It all comes down to the advice that Saad Hariri is getting. If he’s getting really good advice, I think he will choose Mikati and they have to start reaching out to the FPM.
This interview was originally published on NOW Lebanon on June 10, 2009.
Are we advertised to death?
A poster of Ali Khamenei, the spiritual leader of Iran, leads a row of posters of dead Hezbollah combatants in the southern Lebanese village of Yaater. (AFP/Ramzi Haidar)
With the back-and-forth sniping between Lebanon’s political parties this election season, it’s easy to feel that the Lebanese are coming under fire. Indeed, to anyone walking down the street, campaign billboards seem to form a seamless graphic representation of neighborhood power structure; row after row of Hezbollah campaign billboards along the airport road dissolve into Future Movement and Lebanese Forces posters, depending on whether they turn left or right.
Though it’s election season, public political imagery is anything but new in Lebanon. As is the case in other countries, public space in Lebanon is appropriated by various groups as they compete for the public’s attention, whether it is to convince you to buy a product, visit a restaurant, vote for a politician or remember the deceased. But few restrictions limit billboards in Lebanon, so advertisements for anything and everything frequently become overpowering along highways and other well-trafficked corridors.
Political billboards are particularly visible, but several scholarly works have recently begun to deeply examine the legacy they have in Lebanon. While many posters were removed in 2008 following the Doha Accord, election fever seems to be overpowering the spirit of reconciliation reached in Qatar last summer, and it is now difficult to tell that any removal effort ever occurred.
Upon arriving in Beirut six years ago, Paula Schmitt found its billboards “amusing” and “picturesque; a diversion in streets empty of public parks, benches or trees,” but over years spent living and reporting from Lebanon, Schmitt began to understand that the underlying purpose of Lebanese political billboards is to reinforce three “insidious” aspects of Lebanese political culture: “sectarianism, clientelism and the cult of personality.”
This is the thesis of Schmitt’s new book, Advertised to Death: Lebanese Poster Boys, released at Virgin Megastore in Beirut last Friday, in which she relates the development of her understanding of Lebanese political posters in a way that is quite understandable, if a bit unpolished, to those uninitiated into the complexities of Lebanon’s labyrinthine political environment.
The book is an academic-style study that manages to reveal the author’s frustration with the circularity and sectarian nature of Lebanon’s political arena; accordingly, Schmitt’s narrative is frequently punctuated by the use of the first person, so the book reads at times like a dissertation and at others like an opinion piece.
Schmitt, former Lebanon correspondent for Rolling Stone Brasil and Radio France Internationale, wrote the book as she completed her Master’s Degree in Middle Eastern Studies at the American University of Beirut. She makes an academic analysis of the iconography of signage, analyzing poses, geometry, contents and spatial context in Lebanon’s many political billboards. As well as analyzing the traditional posters that grace the cities and villages of Lebanon, Schmitt traces the evolution of posters over the past few years, noting the increased attention paid to design and the movement away from kitsch toward hip. Advertised to Death is illustrated with over 100 photos so readers can examine the competing slogans, photoshop trickery and sectarian nature of the signs for themselves.
Schmidt spares neither side of the political spectrum in her critique, with analysis devoted to the Amal Movement’s Nabih Berri, Hezbollah head Hassan Nasrallah, the Hariri family, the Gemayel family, and even the all-too-memorable ski accident victim memorial posters that have been plastered around Gemmayzeh and Achrafieh for over a year.
But more attention is paid to the signage of Hezbollah and Amal, perhaps because religious and political billboards tend to be more concentrated in Shia areas, and she chronicles the effective image overhaul executed by Hezbollah following the 2006 July War, when the group began calling itself the Lebanese Resistance.
But iconography is not just the currency of Lebanese politicking. Many Middle Eastern countries have long venerated political and social leaders by iconifying them in posters and other signage. A visit to any residence in Jordan will likely reveal a prominently hung photograph of King Abdullah, and a host of glowering images of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad greets anyone who crosses the Lebanese border at Masnaa. Yasser Arafat’s visage still gazes from the narrow alleyways of Lebanon’s sprawling Palestinian refugee camps.
However, the book argues that in Lebanon, such posters are not an exception but the rule: “[B]illboards in Lebanon make one believe that constituents here tend to follow personalities, rather than ideas.”
And since it is election season in Lebanon, the old habits of ginning up support with billboards and posters are intensifying with each passing day. As we see with the current election cycle, posters related to particular candidates are not only divorced from any policy proposals, but even willing to veer into territory usually occupied only by personal care products, as was the case with the scandal-producing “Sois belle et vote” billboards.
In an interview with NOW, Schmitt said about today’s billboards: “I know political propaganda is supposed to be very reductive and simplistic, by definition, but in Lebanon they are exclusively so – there are no political proposals on the billboards.”
“The billboards … [are] the first thing we see and absorb and live with if we walk in the city,” Schmitt said. “What does that give me to see the face of Pierre Gemayel, or Hariri, or Nasrallah? How are we benefitting from that?”
Indeed, while this question has been asked before, perhaps it has not been asked enough. The book is interesting and timely, but it does not ask the question as well as it could. The author does not spend much time analyzing the posters of the March 14 coalition, leaving the impression that her study of Lebanon’s political posters is actually more of a work on Shia imagery. The book leaves the reader with questions, but it is at least a good first step toward illuminating the true cost and effect of posters on the contemporary Lebanese political scene.
Article originally published in NOW Lebanon on June 3, 2009.
Memo to Iraq
MEMO TO IRAQ
by Tim Fitzsimons
This month we celebrated the five-year anniversary of George W. Bush’s triumphant landing on the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln off of California, where, a mere six weeks into the War in Iraq, he declared in front of a staged rally of sailors that “[i]n the Battle of Iraq, the United States and our allies have prevailed.”
Mr. Bush was correct; the goals had been realized: we had quickly toppled the government of Saddam Hussein, established control over the country, and few at home in America had been asked to do more than bat an eye.
Since we won that first fight, however, we have lost the war of words and images. In the wake of “Mission Accomplished,” we have seen the horrifying pictures from Abu Ghraib prison, a cell phone video of Saddam Hussein’s botched and barbaric hanging, and front page after front page plastered with images of decapitations and blood running through the streets of Baghdad.
Somehow, despite the fact that this war has gone on for longer than the Civil War and both World Wars, we as a nation have failed to seriously question its continuation. One of the two main candidates for president seeks simply to end American casualties, since he has rightly identified that as the only factor that concerns most of us. We have not been paying close enough attention to the war over the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people, the one that we are losing most terribly. They will always remember.
But we won the War for Iraq. Mission accomplished.
***
Nine months ago, as I was rumbling down the "green tunnel," a tree-lined main throughway in the Kashmir valley, my translator Shabir pointed down a road that flicked by and told me that it led to his village.
I had heard about that village before. He had already explained to me what life was like when the Indian army would conduct a "crackdown," the English word that embodied the brutality of the conflict in that beautiful region of northwest India. In a crackdown, the army would surround a village, corral all of its residents, line up the men old enough to be "insurgents," blindfold them, and then walk down the line with an informer, who would silently finger the accused. Those unlucky enough to be chosen would be whisked away and “disappeared,” never to be seen again.
Recently, the BBC reported that mass graves had been discovered in the valley, suspected to be some of the sites where those disappeared people were finally put to rest.
Kashmir was my introduction to India. Before my flight from New Delhi even touched down on the tarmac at Srinagar airport, I could see hundreds of camouflaged tents behind tall fences surrounding the airport. When I stepped off of the plane, I saw military trucks and barbed wire, and men with machine guns in hand. We were frisked twice before we were permitted to leave the airport, and we were the only ones there. The height of the conflict has long since passed, but so much remains.
As we drove around Srinagar pursuing our story, our car would be pulled over every few hours by the Central Reserve Police Force, and we would both be frisked. Shabir would always get particularly incensed, but never to the police. He would wait until we were speeding away before letting slip some of the rare four letter words he reserved for the “occupiers.”
When Shabir and I would talk about the conflict between Kashmir, India, and Pakistan, he would gaze out of the car window and his mannerisms would change. His emotions would deaden, and he would speak in a sort of robotic way that showed he found the question too difficult to answer fully:
"I think Kashmir should be part of Pakistan," he would say, looking away.
"Why? You already said that you think being part of India makes Kashmir prosperous," I would ask, slowly.
"But you know," (and here he would begin to get especially uncomfortable), "I can't want to go to India. Pakistan is a country for Muslims, and we in Kashmir are Muslim."
But his true feelings shone through his explanation. A day or two before, when he had explained what a crackdown was, I had asked him if it had ever happened in his village when he was a kid. "Yes," he had said simply, "many times." His employer had told me that his village was a hotbed of insurgent activity in the 1990s, so I already knew. Shabir remembered the conflict well. India to him was forever seared into his mind as the force that disappeared all those people from his village, causing so much pain to so many people.
And with that, I learned that the cost of insurgency and counter-insurgency is not one that fades with age. Pay close attention.
This article was published on May 17, 2008 in the Tufts Daily.
Lebanese Paintball Craze Springs from Harsh Reality
by Alice Fordham and Tim Fitzsimons, Special to the Globe and Mail
The patch of wasteland in the Hezbollah stronghold of south Beirut has a sign outside reading Special Forces. Inside, the ground is strewn with razor wire, crawling with uniformed youths and ringing with shots.
But it's not the Lebanese army at work: It's ultra-realistic paintball.
Lebanon's teenagers have grown up with war - among other conflicts the civil war that ripped the country apart until 1990, Syrian occupation until 2005 and the Israel-Hezbollah war in 2006 - but that hasn't put them off the latest Lebanese craze.
Open for five months, Special Forces is across the road from the square where the militant Islamist political group Hezbollah held a triumphant rally earlier this year, in the heart of the huge suburb of Dahiyeh. The area is patrolled not by Lebanese police, but by Hezbollah.
Special Forces is far from the only paintball company to have opened in Lebanon this year - they often have names like Terror Tactics - but it is particularly popular, said co-owner Mohammad Biab, 24, because it is so realistic.
"Experienced people," he said, smiling, "helped the design to look like a real battlefield."
It is a sprawling patch of rubble, set among bombed-out apartment blocks, casualties of the war between Hezbollah and Israel. But nearby, too, are the new buildings that have sprung up as a result of massive Hezbollah regeneration of the area, which has produced the kind of stability that fosters leisure activities like paintball.
The open-air combat zone has a large dug-out trench to crawl through, barrels to hide behind and strings of real razor wire that inexperienced combatants trip over because the visors on their helmets are nearly opaque.
Mr. Biab gives lectures on tactics before each round, and during play sits on a platform, shouting "go, go," and peppering slow players with "bullets." Every effort, he said, has been made to make the uniforms authentic and to ensure the imported guns look as realistic as possible.
Special Forces is booked up for weeks and people come from all over Lebanon, from Sunni and Christian areas and others besides, Mr. Biab said. Although in the streets outside, many women are veiled and modestly dressed, he said that gangs of girls and mixed groups often come, put on camouflage and stage shootouts.
Hadi, 20, a perspiring customer who travelled from central Beirut to be here, was fresh from his second tour of the combat zone. He said that he liked paintball because "instead of being aggressive on the streets, I can use some weapons here and have fun and I am not hurting people."
But it is not just profit that is motivating Mr. Biab and co-owner Louai Helbawi.
He believes that through paintball he can create in Lebanon a nation ready to defend itself. "The other side," he said, referring to Israel, "is an enemy whose people have to serve one month each year in the army, so the whole environment is prepared for war. So we have to make people prepared for war."
When other nations hear about the realism of the paintball in Lebanon, he hopes, they will know that this is a nation that knows how to defend itself.
Customers come for entertainment, said Mr. Diab, "but the hidden idea behind this is political."
However, he said, the tactics of paintball do not foster an aggressive attitude to battle. "The first time you go out and carry a gun," he said, "the main object that directly comes into your head is that you have to defend yourself from bullets.
"Then afterwards," he added, as Hadi and his friends kicked off their boots like old soldiers, "comes the entertainment."
This article was published in the Globe and Mail on October 28, 2008.
Picture This: How Images from Gaza got from Ordinary People to Us
Demotix citizen journalists in Gaza sent images of things inaccessible to journalists (Eman Mohammed/Demotix)
As the bombardment of Gaza began last month, an Israeli media blackout denying journalists access to the Strip held firm. And yet, global criticism of Israeli action crescendoed as image after heartbreaking image was published in the media.
As there were no – or very few – journalists in Gaza, the images of the carnage often came from ordinary people. Many reached the world via a new website: Demotix.com.
This London-based company has created considerable buzz by allowing anyone to upload their pictures of anywhere, connecting the street to the mainstream by allowing media outlets to buy pictures taken by ordinary people. Citizen journalism just got organized and – maybe – profitable.
Jonnie Leger, Director of Sales at Demotix Images, told NOW Extra that “during the Gaza conflict, when foreign reporters couldn’t get into the territory, our contributors were giving amazing content.” Indeed, working with citizen journalists resulted in unexpected convergence when Israelis and Palestinians were covering opposite sides of the same events, “we got the same story told by different reporters on the same day — the photos are the same.” The agency received – and sold – images from inside Gaza because its citizens were able to skirt the Israeli media blackout cutting off access to the Strip.
And even before the assault began, several Palestinians were underground, digging out of the Strip. Rare images of these burrowers floated out onto the global newswire via Demotix as talk of tunnels and smuggling began to fray the ceasefire between Hamas and Israel.
It is not only from hard-to-reach places like Gaza that citizen journalists can sell images. As newspapers and television networks face declining revenues and close foreign bureaus, many are looking for ways to capitalize on the power of the internet and an undiminished demand for foreign reportage. Turi Munthe, the founder and CEO of Demotix, saw an opportunity and in early 2008 started the company.
For the past year, Demotix has advertised on social networking sites and searched for promising photographers on flickr.com, a photo-sharing website with a devoted following. Today, Demotix boasts over two thousand regular contributors, and emerged from “stealth beta” mode to become official in August last year.
Before founding Demotix, Munthe worked at the Royal United Services Insititute, the world’s oldest defense and security think tank, where he studied radicalization. He was also a journalist and spent time reporting in Beirut and the Middle East, where he found himself drawn “further and further toward civil society.”
But he became disenchanted by the mainstream media and its decline, telling NOW Extra that he watched the media, “commit a quite efficient harakiri over the past few years,” as outlets shut down foreign bureaus and slashed staff rosters.
Munthe saw an opportunity to link media outlets with an increasingly dependable and sophisticated network of independent photojournalists, and Demotix was born. Although determinedly a global company, the Middle East has provided its biggest hit – with Gaza, and there is talk of an Arabic website.
Aside from a desire to bolster the ailing news industry, Munthe “sought to create a social enterprise, a business model that can do good.” Munthe’s experiences have led him to believe that the more closed and blocked a society’s media is, “the more likely you are to be dealing with issues of eventual serious radicalization…When you put a society into a pressure cooker and you heat it up, things pop.”
Hence, Demotix’s moral underpinnings: “If you can get street reporters published and give them a bit of a megaphone, it’s slightly harder for governments to come and crack down on them.”
Other companies have experimented with concepts like Munthe’s with varying degrees of success. In 2006 the Calgary, Canada-based Istockphoto.com created a successful stock photography agency by using the internet to connect independent photographers, was purchased by Getty Images for $50M.
On the news side, organizations such as CNN, al-Jazeera, The New York Times, and others have slowly increased the amount of “citizen journalism” they include in their regular coverage, but it has been dependent on the charity of photographers and their willingness to surrender their copyright. This stemmed from the idea that citizen journalism was something “unprofessional” that could easily be compromised by biased providers. But as the technology of the cameraphone improved and proliferated, the acceptability of “user generated content,” or UGC, increased.
Demotix created a paying market for the photographers whose citizen journalism has been used as free material by news agencies for years. Now, Demotix sells those images to those same outlets for mainstream prices, passing half the money on to the photographers.
One problem posed by the market is danger for journalists sending valuable images from oppressive regimes. Clearly, Demotix needs images from, say, Myanmar and Syria as much as from Lebanon and London, but journalists in those places can face severe punishments. So, Demotix has incorporated layers of security that strip the metadata (hidden information incorporated into an image’s file data) from submissions. Proxy servers are also used if the user would like to cover their tracks and prevent internet tracing from following too closely.
Following submission, Demotix works closely with its contributors to ensure that a tightly edited package is presented for sale, and that any doubts about the images are eliminated. Jonnie Leger explained that all content is treated the same way that images from a professional photojournalist would be, and that “unless I’m 100% sure this is real, I can’t push it out to the press.” Leger ensures the legitimacy of the UGC by keeping in close contact with photographers throughout the process.
Swayed by the story, this sometime photographer signed up with Demotix and can report that there is a simple signup process and straightforward privacy agreement. Within a few minutes, I was uploading my first story. The beta version of the site still is a bit choppy in places, but it works well and efficiently.
The online submission form makes tagging and organizing photos by story easy. Anyone can search the site for a story, and after submission photos are updated into a section of recently submitted content. No takers yet, but it is good to be part of a community in the business of telling their stories to the world.
Originally published in NOW Lebanon on January 27, 2009.