Grafitti Afghanistan's war

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Angelina Jolie defends her controversial movie-in-progress

(PEOPLE.com) -- With her first directorial effort underway and generating controversy over its alleged content, Angelina Jolie advises critics not to jump the gun and to "[with]hold judgment until they have seen the film."

The yet-to-be-titled movie, a love story currently shooting in Hungary, focuses on a Serbian man (Rade Serbedzija) and a Bosnian woman (Zana Marjanovic) who meet on the eve of the country's 1992-95 war and the effect the conflict has on their relationship.

But once stories arose in Bosnia-Herzegovina that the film's love story concerned a Serbian rapist and his Muslim captive, objections were raised by the association Women Victims of War, who accused the film of presenting "misleading history."

Their objections reportedly helped prompt Bosnia's culture minister, Gavrilo Grahovac, to revoke Jolie's permit to shoot in Sarajevo.

Jolie, who serves as a United Nations High Commissioner of Refugees goodwill ambassador, reportedly contacted the women's group through the UNHCR and said, "Don't judge me before you see the film."

Jolie, 35, is also quoted as saying, "Obviously any dramatic interpretation will always fail those who have had a real experience. This is not a documentary."

She further advised, "There are many twists in the plot that address the sensitive nature of the relationship between the main characters, and that will be revealed once the film is released."

Calling the situation with the permit "a purely technical matter," the movie's production company, GK Films, announced in a statement: "We are obliged to reapply for the permit to shoot Angelina Jolie's directorial debut with the appropriate government offices in Sarajevo now that the final script is available."

The BBC also quotes GK Films as saying, "The stories about the film which have recently been circulated are incorrect."

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Afghan Women and the Return of the Taliban

By Aryn Baker Thursday, Jul. 29, 2010

The Taliban pounded on the door just before midnight, demanding that Aisha, 18, be punished for running away from her husband's house. Her in-laws treated her like a slave, Aisha pleaded. They beat her. If she hadn't run away, she would have died. Her judge, a local Taliban commander, was unmoved. Aisha's brother-in-law held her down while her husband pulled out a knife. First he sliced off her ears. Then he started on her nose.

This didn't happen 10 years ago, when the Taliban ruled Afghanistan. It happened last year. Now hidden in a secret women's shelter in Kabul, Aisha listens obsessively to the news. Talk that the Afghan government is considering some kind of political accommodation with the Taliban frightens her. "They are the people that did this to me," she says, touching her damaged face. "How can we reconcile with them?"

In June, Afghan President Hamid Karzai established a peace council tasked with exploring negotiations with the Taliban. A month later, Tom Malinowski from Human Rights Watch met Karzai. During their conversation, Karzai mused on the cost of the conflict in human lives and wondered aloud if he had any right to talk about human rights when so many were dying. "He essentially asked me," says Malinowski, "What is more important, protecting the right of a girl to go to school or saving her life?" How Karzai and his international allies answer that question will have far-reaching consequences, not only for Afghanistan's women, but the country as a whole.

As the war in Afghanistan enters its ninth year, the need for an exit strategy weighs on the minds of U.S. policymakers. Such an outcome, it is assumed, would involve reconciliation with the Taliban. But Afghan women fear that in the quest for a quick peace, their progress may be sidelined. "Women's rights must not be the sacrifice by which peace is achieved," says parliamentarian Fawzia Koofi.

Yet that may be where negotiations are heading. The Taliban will be advocating a version of an Afghan state in line with their own conservative views, particularly on the issue of women's rights. Already there is a growing acceptance that some concessions to the Taliban are inevitable if there is to be genuine reconciliation. "You have to be realistic," says a diplomat in Kabul. "We are not going to be sending troops and spending money forever. There will have to be a compromise, and sacrifices will have to be made."

For Afghanistan's women, an early withdrawal of international forces could be disastrous. An Afghan refugee who grew up in Canada, Mozhdah Jamalzadah recently returned home to launch an Oprah-style talk show in which she has been able to subtly introduce questions of women's rights without provoking the ire of religious conservatives. On a recent episode, a male guest told a joke about a foreign human-rights team in Afghanistan. In the cities, the team noticed that women walked six paces behind their husbands. But in rural Helmand, where the Taliban is strongest, they saw a woman six steps ahead. The foreigners rushed to congratulate the husband on his enlightenment — only to be told that he stuck his wife in front because they were walking through a minefield. As the audience roared with laughter, Jamalzadah reflected that it may take about 10 to 15 years before Afghan women can truly walk alongside men. But once they do, she believes, all Afghans will benefit. "When we talk about women's rights," Jamalzadah says, "we are talking about things that are important to men as well — men who want to see Afghanistan move forward. If you sacrifice women to make peace, you are also sacrificing the men who support them and abandoning the country to the fundamentalists that caused all the problems in the first place."

Source : www.time.com

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Thailand: Will It Be Civil War?

May 17 2010, 4:50 PM ET | Comment

Outside of academic circles and op-ed pages, however, this scenario has been largely regarded as hysterical. The silliness seemed to peak last month when charitable groups attempted showings of "Hotel Rwanda" in Bangkok on huge outdoor screens -- a cautionary tale for Thais consumed with class hatred.

But now, the Thai capital looks, smells, and sounds like war. Rifle fire crackles throughout the day. On back alleys, protesters vowing to end the "rule of elites" concoct molotov cocktails from spent bottles of Red Bull.

As I write this, pyres demarcating nighttime conflict zones light up glass skyscrapers with a hellish glow. And for the second consecutive night, explosions rumble outside my balcony's sliding glass door.

Bangkok is 10 weeks and more than 60 deaths into a stand-off between the military-backed government and a faction of self-proclaimed "commoners" -- the Red Shirts -- that insists the ruling party must fall.

In recent days, the army has resorted to picking off protesters (the top brass calls them "terrorists") with sniper rifles from afar. But the Red Shirts have defended their encampment: two-square miles of Bangkok's priciest real estate, fortified with concertina wire and bamboo staves.

As Bangkok slips further into chaos, it's unclear if even the Red Shirt guiding statesmen can turn back the legions of Thai men (and some women) wading into near suicidal combat.

"We must accept death," said Pichet Taweesin, a 40-year-old day laborer tending a flaming wall of truck tires. Nearby, teenagers snapped cell phone photos of their friends, striking hooligan poses while gripping homemade gas bombs.

"No one here wants to become a victim," he said. "But I've seen dead bodies of my brothers and sisters in the movement every day. I'm not afraid to die." In another 45 minutes, the crowd we stood in would scramble for cover as rifle bullets pecked at the asphalt.

The army, in testing the protesters' promises to "fight to the death," has drawn thousands of Pichets to these urban front lines. That so many within the Red Shirt camp are compelled to extremism, however, is a partly monster of the movement's own creation.

Broadly speaking, the Red Shirts are a loose assemblage encompassing the disgruntled laboring classes, new-money Thais with an anti-establishment grudge and, as many in the Thai media allege, poor Thais paid about $13 a day to rally.

The guiding leadership -- parliamentarians, aging activists and celebrities -- often invoke the language of non-violent, civil disobedience. But the movement has also tolerated a militant streak, personified by a renegade army major general -- Khattiya "Seh Daeng" Sawisdipol -- who flouted superiors and ordered his personal militia to protect protesters with force.

Khattiya died on May 17, days after taking a sniper's bullet to the temple in a killing the government disavows. His political martyrdom was one of the sparks igniting the street violence that's since engulfed Bangkok.

Khattiya's disciples' sense of invincibility was also fostered by the military itself, which for weeks allowed protesters to push the government around before responding with extreme force.

Since rallies began in mid-March, protesters have mobbed Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva's offices and private residence, splattering his gates with their own blood in a ritual curse. They have climbed parliament's gates and yanked guns from security forces.

Even troops themselves fled a bloody raid last month after mysterious black-clad men with rifles -- linked to Seh Daeng by government spokesmen -- emerged and fired back. A throng of protesters later took troops hostage, seized dozens of assault rifles and dismantled six armed personnel carriers with tools and bare hands.

As this conflict has dragged on, sober voices inside the movement have grown noticeably quieter. One of the camp's most moderate statesman, Veera Musikapong, has not appeared in public for days. The Thai media has ruminated over a split within the Red Shirts that has left hardliners with more sway.

Remaining Red Shirt leaders, however, insist they are but slingshot-toting Davids, they say, ground down by Goliaths with power, influence and assault rifles.

But moderate Red Shirt supporters such as Prateep Ungsongtham Hata, a renowned slum activist, openly fret the movement is sliding towards a more shadowy, militant incarnation. By setting up a safe haven for less-daring protesters outside the conflict zone, she has attempted to lend a sense of orderly demonstration to the battles raging just a mile away.

"There are two ways out of this," Prateep explained, ducking into an empty guard shack. The windows were papered over with yesterday's newsprint to provide concealment from snipers.

"The government can stop the killing. The two sides can start chatting," she said. "But the government leaders will have to stop always pointing the finger at us and point it at themselves."

As for civil war?

"If the government keeps on killing," she said, "these people will go underground, basing themselves in the provinces. When you can't fight openly, you become unseen."

Prateep's eyes settled on a newspaper, pasted over the window and illuminated by sunlight. In the lead photo, blood pooled beneath the head of a protester shot dead the day before.

"Honestly, I'm very depressed," she said. "I never thought it would come to this."

Source : theatlantic.com

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