Could Rotuma Become Another Transnistria?

I’ve meant for several days to post an excerpt from a fascinating study by the omniscient Head Heeb about potential secessionist gangsters on Rotuma.

On May 19, 2000, a group of indigenous Fijian nationalists, led by George Speight and supported by a number of influential chiefs, seized control of Parliament and held it for more than 50 days. On May 29, with Parliament still under siege, the military declared the government deposed and took over in opposition to both Speight and the elected legislature. During the next few months, Viti Levu and Vanua Levu were in a state of chaos, with attacks on Indo-Fijian tenant farmers and mutinies within the military. All this prompted renewed discussion of independence on Rotuma.

That’s where the organized crime angle comes in. Present on Rotuma at the time, ostensibly as a “tourist,” was Tzemach ben David Netzer Korem, the titular vice president of a micronation known as the Dominion of Melchizedek. The Dominion claims various Pacific and Antarctic territories and asserts a pseudobiblical basis for its sovereignty, but is in fact a complicated financial scam. Korem (whose real name is Ben Pedley, and who proudly notes that his high school class “voted him ‘Most Original'”) has used the apparatus of Melchizedek to conceal various securities and tax frauds, and has also made money from sales of licenses and travel documents.

However shady Korem may be, however, he has shown a considerable amount of skill in promoting Melchizedek’s interests. Among other things, Melchizedek has actually managed to secure diplomatic recognition from the Central African Republic and Burkina Faso (aided, I suspect, by a certain amount of money under the table), giving it a patina of respectability and increasing the value of its travel documents. With the chaos surrounding the Fijian coup, however, Korem saw the chance to take Melchizedek to the next level. If Rotuma became a de facto sovereign state under a friendly government, it would become not so much a shell company as a shell nation in which Korem could establish banks, corporations and other financial entities beyond the reach of the law. A unilateral declaration of independence on Rotuma likely wouldn’t be recognized, much as Somaliland’s separation from the dysfunctional Somali state hasn’t gained international recognition, but in some ways that would be even better for Korem – a Rotuma existing apart from international institutions would be a legal black hole like Transnistria is for the Russian mob.

There’s more for those interested.

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Soccer Stadium Politics

Two interesting political developments happened in the seating areas of football/soccer stadiums in Bangkok and Tehran.

In Bangkok, the stadium was eerily silent and empty as during the World Cup match between North Korea and Japan. (Japan won 2-0.) Live spectators were banned this time, and the venue was moved to neutral territory, after North Korean fans ran amok when their team lost a World Cup game to Iran in Kim Il-sung stadium in Pyongyang in April.

In Tehran, despite postgame riots when Iran beat Japan (2-1) in March, the stadium was full and the fans were raucous for other reasons.

One of the victories scored at Azadi Stadium Wednesday evening was Iran’s soccer triumph over the island nation of Bahrain, an easy 1-0 win that guaranteed Iran a slot in next year’s World Cup and set off dancing in the streets of the capital.

Another sort of victory came about 90 minutes before the game, when female soccer fans pushed their way past guards posted outside the stadium.

Defying a rule that has banned women from soccer matches for more than a quarter-century, the young activists demanded seats in the sports complex that Iran’s religious rulers named Azadi, or “freedom.”

“We were just insisting on our rights,” said Laila Maleki, one of the young women. “We’re part of no campaign.”

Of the 100 or so women in the Special Grandstand on Wednesday night, most were invited by Iran’s minister for sports, Mohsen Mehralizadeh, who is also one of the country’s vice presidents. An advocate of equal participation for women and a presidential candidate, Mehralizadeh has in recent months arranged for women to attend national soccer games.

By the standards of football hooliganism, North Korean fans are the normal ones. They tend to riot against foreigners when their own team loses. Whereas Iranian fans are bipolar: Their joy at winning tends to turn into anger at their own government.

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Books and Chain Letters

Pearsall’s Books has whacked me from afar with the book stick that seems to be flailing the blogosphere. So here are my answers.

1. How many books I’ve owned

No idea. A few thousand, I’m sure, in my five decades as a constant reader. Most of them I’ve read (or skimmed, or not) then passed on to family, friends, or the local Friends of the Library, where I have also bought many second-hand books.

2. The last book(s) I bought

Three second-hand books from Amazon partners: The First Casualty: The War Correspondent as Hero and Myth-Maker from the Crimea to Kosovo; Emergency Sex and Other Desperate Measures: A True Story from Hell on Earth; and Vietnam: The Necessary War: A Reinterpretation of America’s Most Disastrous Military Conflict

3. The last book I read

Gulag: A History (no surprise to my regular readers)

4. Five books that have meant a lot to me

Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory, reinforced by Endo Shusaku’s Silence, when I was in high school and questioning my (non-Catholic) religious heritage, but not yet my political faith. Oddly enough, the themes listed in the SparkNotes study guide outline some of what captured my imagination: the dangers of excessive idealism; the disparity between representation and reality; the interrelated nature of so-called opposites; the paradox of Christian humility (and that of other do-gooders). I might add another, the need for ritual, even without belief, to keep communities of ostensible believers from fracturing apart.

Alexandr Solzhenitsyn’s The First Circle, Cancer Ward, August 1914. Solzhenitsyn, more than Tolstoy or Dostoevsky or Gogol or Turgenev or Chekhov, was my Russian writer. I must have read Ivan Denisovitch in high school, but the rest I very likely read during 1969-72 while I was in the Army (a fitting venue). Solzhenitsyn took some wind out of my political sails, and a dark year in Romania during 1983-84 further becalmed my youthful leftism, leaving considerable uncertainty in its wake. Bucharest was no Damascus. I discovered no new faith; I just became less convinced about my earlier verities, leaving me with “pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will” (Romain Rolland via Timothy Garton Ash).

Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger’s The Invention of Tradition, which was not so much an eye-opener as a confirmation that others were onto the question of how much of our history is contructed. In my final undergraduate year, long before I read this book, I wrote a paper for an anthropology class on American Indians in which I compared creative elements of the Meiji “Restoration” in Japan with Native American “revival” movements like the Ghost Dance and Peyote Cult. (My prof really liked it.) I’m fascinated by how things change, and used to subscribe to Natural History just to read Stephen Jay Gould’s columns about the history of evolutionary thought. Ernst Mayr’s One Long Argument: Charles Darwin and the Genesis of Modern Evolutionary Thought also helped stimulate my thinking about change, and so have various works by William H. McNeill. His succinct but stimulating Polyethnicity and National Unity in World History is worth tracking down, but see a depressing follow-up here.

John DeFrancis’ The Chinese Language: Fact and Fantasy, plus his more broad-ranging successor, Visible Speech: The Diverse Oneness of Writing Systems. DeFrancis (plus a year in China) did a lot to counter my Japanese-influenced sense of Chinese characters as having very nearly arbitrary relations to spoken sounds. It’s amazing how few of the linguistics books I read in grad school have had a lasting impact. Of course, a lot of it was reading seminal article after seminal article, each brimming with the seeds of its own obsolescence.

David Fromkin’s A Peace to End All Peace: The Fall of the Ottoman Empire and the Creation of the Modern Middle East is a favorite in my most favorite subject area: history. But I’ve probably read more works by Barbara Tuchman than by any other historian, among which my favorite is Stilwell and the American Experience in China, 1911-1945. I have a weakness for narrative history that highlights chance combinations of contingencies and personalities. Although I think intentional human agency counts for a lot, I believe unintended outcomes count for more.

5. Next victims

Okay, having exceeded my book count, I now flail in the general direction of only three new victims: Andrés Gentry, Fabian of Macam-macam, and Sean the White Peril.

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Ultimului Strajer al Capitalei, 1916

Halfway Down the Danube shares a telling snapshot of the monument To the Last Defender of Bucharest against the Germans in 1916.

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Can Rwandan Genociders Return?

Black Star Journal translates the gist of a Senegalese report (in French) about Rwandan refugees in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

According to the Senegalese daily, many of them remain in hiding in the bush and drown themselves in alcohol. They are torn between the desire to return and turn in their weapons and the fear of having to answer for a macabre past.

The paper estimates that there are some 10,000 former combattants and 30,000 of their relatives exiled in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Interestingly, the paper notes that since a wide majority of these Hutu ex-pats were too young to have participated in the 1994 genocide, some analysts think that conditions would be favorable for a return to Rwanda.

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An Economist’s Take on Jared Diamond’s Collapse

Alaska-based econoblogger Ben Muse cites fellow economist Partha Dasgupta’s review of Jared Diamond’s Collapse in the London Review of Books. Seems Diamond fails to understand the relationship between pricing and scarcity in modern economies. Of course, if the government controls pricing, then it effectively slaughters that bellwether.

Forests loom large in Diamond’s case studies. As deforestation was the proximate cause of the Easter Islanders’ demise, he offers an extended, contrasting account of the way a deforested Japan succeeded, in the early 18th century, in averting total disaster by regenerating its forests. Now consider another island: England. Deforestation here began under the Romans, and by Elizabethan times the price of timber had begun to rise ominously. In the mid-18th century what people saw across the landscape in England wasn’t trees, but stone rows separating agricultural fields. The noted economic historian Brinley Thomas argued that it was because timber had become so scarce that a lengthy search began among inventors and tinkerers for an effective coal-based energy source. By Thomas’s reckoning, the defining moment of the Industrial Revolution should be located in 1784, when Henry Cort’s process for manufacturing iron was first successfully deployed. His analysis would suggest that England became the centre of the Industrial Revolution not because it had abundant energy but because it was running out of energy. France, in contrast, didn’t need to find a substitute energy source: it was covered in forests and therefore lost out. I’m not able to judge the plausibility of Thomas’s thesis – there would appear to be almost as many views about the origins, timing and location of the Industrial Revolution (granting there was one) as there are economic historians – but the point remains that scarcities lead individuals and societies to search for ways out, which often means discovering alternatives. Diamond is dismissive of the possibility of our finding such alternatives in the future because, as he would have it, we are about to come up against natural bottlenecks…

via Regions of Mind

Here’s a link to an interview with Diamond about that same book.

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J-School as Seminary, Reporters as Missionaries

NYU journalism professor Jay Rosen, who blogs on PressThink, offers an interesting essay, Deep Throat, J-School and Newsroom Religion, about journalism school as a seminary of sorts that churns out idealistic do-gooders who pretty much all share the same faith without realizing they belong to a minority faith that often differs radically from the faiths of their readers. (Also see Rosen’s earlier essay entitled Journalism Is Itself a Religion.)

I’m going to show you a passage where I think the religion of the newsroom appears in everyday life. It comes from a piece called The Useless Credential, which ran at testycopyeditors.org. The author, Darryl McGrath, graduated from the Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism in 1986, the year I joined the faculty at NYU. She writes:

I would tell the dean that this business does not know what to do with career reporters, the people in their 40s who realized years ago they were never going to make it to the New York Times or win a Pulitzer, but nevertheless loved chasing stories and exposing public corruption and giving a voice to the downtrodden. (Yes, I’m still that idealistic.) We are the journalists who never wanted to move into the higher-paying jobs, like editing and management or newsroom Internet technology, because we absolutely loved being reporters. But as we got older, we realized that very few newspapers wanted to pay a salary that would allow us to continue doing what we do best: report. The journalism school did little to prepare me for this reality.

Which is a good point. Notice how McGrath said she still believed in the religion, despite salaries so pitiful they suggest employers do not. She said she “loved chasing stories and exposing public corruption and giving a voice to the downtrodden.” That’s the lord’s prayer in the mainline church of journalism right there. And I think it’s dead on too when she adds: “I’m still that idealistic.”

Deans of Journalism, scribble a note: Investigative reporting, exposing public corruption, and carrying the mantle of the downtrodden were taught to McGrath not as political acts in themselves–which they are–and not as a continuation of the progressive movement of the 1920s, in which the cleansing light of publicity was a weapon of reform–which they are–but just as a way of being idealistic, a non-political truthteller in the job of journalist. (Which is bunk.)

This kind of instruction is guaranteed to leave future journalists baffled by the culture wars, and in fact the press has been baffled to find that it has political opponents. Well, jeez louise, so did the progressives of the 1920s! As far as the religion knows, none of this is happening. And J-schools–by passing the faith along but making little room for non-believers–are part of the problem.

In the newsroom faith that I have been describing, Watergate is not just a big, big story with a knock-out ending. It is the great redemptive tale believers learn to tell about the press and what it can do for the American people. It is a story of national salvation: truth their only weapon, journalists save the day. Whether the story can continue to claim enough believers–and connect the humble to the heroic in journalism–is to my mind a big question. Whether it should continue is an even better question.

More so now that we know about W. Mark Felt. If Deep Throat was not Hal Holbrook but the number two guy at the FBI, was he Woodward’s source, or was Woodward really his agent? Now look at Epstein’s conclusion: “agencies of government itself…” were mainly responsible for getting the truth out about Watergate. Suppose he’s right, more or less. Admitting it would crash a big portion of the religion.

Missionaries, anthropologists, aid workers, peacekeepers, and other such outside agents also frequently end up being used in power plays by rival leaders in their target communities.

The whole essay is worth reading, along with the comments.

via Instapundit

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Ernest Hemingway, Lousy Reporter

One other symbol in Spain was Ernest Hemingway, by far the most famous of the English-language writers there during the war, an influential figurehead in the fight against Fascism–“How could this fight be lost now, with Hemingway on our side.” Hemingway had already worked on one propaganda film, Spain in Flames, and had agreed to help with another, The Spanish Earth, when he accepted an offer from the North American Newspaper Alliance [NANA] to report the war. He arrived in Spain for his first visit in March 1937, and altogether made four trips. He travelled widely, usually with Martha Gellhorn, Herbert Matthews, and Sefton Delmer, saw a lot of the fighting, and got to know many of the Republican leaders and supporters. Yet his performance as a war correspondent was abysmally bad. On a technical level, his descriptions of battle and bombardments are monotonous; his emphasis on his own close location to the action smacks of boastfulness; his accounts of blood, wounds, and severed legs are typical of his desire to shock; and his reporting of conversations is so totally Hemingway in style as to make the reader doubt their authenticity. NANA had to ask him to confine his work to human-interest features and, when that failed, to report only developments of vital importance. As his biographer, Carlos Baker, puts it, “His eye for telling details and individual traits was not nearly so sharp as that of Dos Passos, nor did he commonly rise to the meticulous exactitude and inclusiveness which characterised the best work of Matthews and Delmer.”

True, Hemingway grew up politically in Spain and believed it was the place to stop Fascism, before Hitler’s Brownshirts and Mussolini’s Blackshirts could precipitate a second world war. But he was unjustifiably optimistic about the Republicans’ chances of doing this. One of his principal informants was Mikhail Koltzov–the Pravda and Izvestia correspondent who quarrelled with Louis Fischer over an accurate but pessimistic dispatch Fischer had written–and this might explain the views Hemingway expressed to reporters in New York in June 1938. Franco was short of troops, Hemingway said, and handicapped by friction among the foreign elements in his army; the Republicans were well organised and their chances of winning were good. Actually, at that moment the Republicans were only six months away from defeat. But these criticisms are the least serious of Hemingway’s shortcomings as a war correspondent. The most important concerns his total failure to report the Communist persecution, imprisonment, and summary execution of “untrustworthy elements” on the Republican side, when he knew this was happening and when disclosing it might well have prevented further horrors like this….

In the end, Hemingway did write it all, in For Whom the Bell Tolls, but from a war correspondent the reader has the right to expect all the news the correspondent knows at the time, not as interpolations in a work of romantic fiction published when the war is over. The truth was that Hemingway, for all his compassion for the Spaniards, for all his commitment to the Republican cause, used the war to gain a new lease on his life as a writer. As Baker says, “Refusing to waste the best of his materials in his newspaper dispatches … he had gathered and salted away a body of experience and information which he described to [his editor Maxwell] Perkins as ‘absolutely invaluable’.” For a novelist, this was understandable. For a war correspondent, it was unforgivable.

SOURCE: The First Casualty: The War Correspondent as Hero and Myth-maker from the Crimea to Kosovo, by Phillip Knightley, with an introduction by John Pilger (Johns Hopkins U. Press, 2000; first published in 1975), pp. 230-232

Okay, the price for this second excerpt from the chapter on the Spanish Civil War is a total embargo on excerpts from several chapters on the two world wars.

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Reporting Both Sides from Spain, 1936-39

Ideological partisanship during the Spanish Civil War was every bit as blindly irresponsible as it is today with regard to the war in Iraq.

The main target for the [pro-Franco] Catholic press was Herbert Matthews. His newspaper, the New York Times, was determined to cover the war with impartiality and had formulated a plan to achieve this: it would print the news from both sides and would give both equal prominence, equal length, and equal treatment. This scheme, fine in theory, was a disaster and pleased no one. To begin with, the Times’ correspondent with the Franco forces was William P. Carney, a Catholic, who felt strongly about Republican excesses against the clergy, and who was simply not in Matthews’ class as a correspondent. Giving his stories equal length with Matthews’ often meant overplaying a bad story and cutting a good one. Next, the Times’ “bullpen,” its group of senior editors who read the news as it comes in and decide how much of it will be printed and where it will appear in the paper, was dominated at that time by Catholics who were known to reflect a Catholic viewpoint when assessing the news, with results ranging from playing down stories about birth control to playing up stories expressing alarm over Communism. And, third, the Catholic opposition to Matthews was much more active in pressing its campaign against him than his admirers were in supporting him.

How the New York Times’ plan worked out in practice can best be assessed by … examples….

In March of 1937, a large Franco force had struck towards Guadalajara, north of Madrid, but was stopped well short of its objective. Matthews went there and found that the attacking troops had been Italian. They had been routed and had left behind prisoners, rifles, machine guns, and some disabled tanks. Matthews talked to the prisoners (he knew Italian), examined the arms, and watched the dead Italians being buried. Back in Madrid, he filed his story, an important one because it contained the first positive evidence that Mussolini had sent not only arms and advisers but also an expeditionary force–a fact, at that time, of great political and emotional significance. To emphasise this point, Matthews wrote that the attacking troops “were Italian and nothing but Italian.” In New York, on the instructions of the assistant managing editor, Raymond McCaw, wherever the word “Italian” appeared in Matthews’ copy it was struck out and the word “insurgent”–one used to describe the Franco troops–was substituted. This was done even to the extent of making the quoted phrase read “they were Insurgent and nothing but Insurgent,” thus completely distorting Matthews’ point. To make matters worse, McCaw sent a cable to Matthews saying that the only papers to emphasise the Italian point had been those in Moscow and pointing out that, as far as the New York Times was concerned, “we cannot print obvious propaganda for either side even under bylines.”…

Small wonder that the editor at the New York Times responsible for the “Letters” column complained, “No matter who writes the dispatch [from Spain] the other side will accuse him of broadcasting propaganda or downright lying. In all my ten or twelve years’ experience with letters to the editor, I have never encountered a situation in which so much absolutely rabid partisanship was manifested. It is partisanship that cannot be reasoned with and which, consequently, gets nowhere.”

SOURCE: The First Casualty: The War Correspondent as Hero and Myth-maker from the Crimea to Kosovo, by Phillip Knightley, with an introduction by John Pilger (Johns Hopkins U. Press, 2000; first published in 1975), pp. 215-217

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The Tong Master, or Les Barbares au Gril

The invaluable Simon World excerpts a well-done post entitled The Tong Master (or Les Barbares au Gril). Not just for Aussies. Cheeseheads may also identify. Here’s a morsel.

Five men, lots of sausages. Jonesy was the Fork-pronger; he had the fork that pronged the tough hides of the Bavarian bratwursts and he showed lots of promise. Stabbing away eagerly, leaving perfect little vampire holes up and down the casing.

P.J. was shaking his head; he said “I reckon they cook better if you don’t poke them”. There was a long silence, you could have heard a chipolata drop; this new-comer was a rabble-rouser, bringing in his crazy ideas from outside. He didn’t understand the hierarchy; first the “Tong-Master”, Then the “Sausage-Layer”, then the “Fork-Pronger” –and everyone below was just a watcher.

Maybe eventually they’ll move up the ladder, but for now – don’t rock the Weber.

Dianne popped her head in; hmmm, smells good, she said. She was trying to jostle into the circle; we closed ranks, pulling our heads down and our shoulders in, mumbling yeah yeah yeah, but making no room for her. She was keen, going round to the far side of the barbecue, heading for the only available space…. “THE GAP” in the circle where all the smoke and ashes blew. Nobody could survive “THE GAP”; Dianne was going to try.

She stood there stubbornly, smoke blinding her eyes, ashes filling her nostrils, sausage fat spattering all over her arms and face. Until she couldn’t take it anymore, she gave up, backed off.

Kevin waited till she was gone and sipped his beer. We sipped our beer; yeah.

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