Lessons from the French school.

Back in the day there was a guy called Chad, and also a country, somewhere down there in the dirty sands of Africa, where a bunch of those little kiddies ran around playing and screaming and falling over stuff and sometimes even picking up guns to kill each other - yes, it’s a nasty business, that war, and lots of those wimps in the “First World” as they call it feel all squishy inside when they see a tyke with a Kalishnikov on the television. They say “oh, that’s terrible, it can’t be happening, they’re just children after all”, as if the mediaeval world from which this nasty modern planet of ours burst out from under has actually receded into the horizon, into the history books, into the dark grey annals of times gone past where the witches were burned and the men sent off to death, while the women and children tilled the fields until they all died at the ripe old age of fifteen. What can I say: we’ve made progress there, but in other ways we’re still very far behind.

But, of course, amongst the poor warmongering tribes where the world still spins around the moon in the painted desert, where spirits still live with you in your mud hut and where half of your siblings won’t see their fifth birthday, where the capital cities have painfully long names that no one in their right mind would try to remember, where water is scarce but bullets are abundant, kids grow up pretty fast. They never have a chance to play PS2 until their eyes bleed, to get folds of flab under their underarms from sitting and eating cheese puffs and listening to their stomach gurgle while whatever bullshit the television feeds them kicks it up a notch and they are forever trapped in the suburban dream of accumulation, inflation of the body, obsession with increasing income, and to ultimately getting that two car garage so they can do it all over again to another generation of vegetables – no, they’re stuck out there in the real world, between the earth and the sun, living life at its most base. Some pansies from Paris saw their simple lives on television and decided they needed to be “saved”. Or something.

Thus, buying and selling children has become something of a cottage industry in the Saharan region, saving kids from their own environment and growing up with skills that they may actually use for survival once the entire world goes up in flames. Better to inundate them with ignorance and an obsession with Dolce and Gabana than have them learn to hunt and wage war. When once they could have been the generation that built a desert nation from the ashes of a global holocaust, now they’re stuck in cheap flats in Parisian suburbs hoping no one throws a Molotov through their window. Life is a twisting game, and that one’s a dead end; but according to their saviours, they’re “safer”. From some things, anyways, like consciousness.

Thus, we get a few groups of people heading to visit their buddy Chad and take the kids aside. The ruse is that you have a school somewhere, just over the ranges. Making up a fake name, some business cards and official looking documents, will undoubtedly be more than enough to convince the poor villager to part with three of her fifteen children. She may not even notice. Tell the kids they’re going someplace magical, give them teddy bears and toys, maybe some sweets to get their brains hooked on first world foods. Then pay off a few people at the airport, and you’re on your way.

It really is that simple. These African countries generally don’t care much about what you do with their kiddies – they’re too busy making them. Some villages are chock full of kids, ripe for the pickings of the white folks there to save them. Smuggle the kid through to another country if you’re unsure of immigration laws. Pal up with a cargo outfit that ships aid in and out. Really, once the kids are in your possession, it’s smooth sailing on the blowing sands.

The other option is simply to head to the old slave markets of Mauritania or Niger and foot the bill up front. Some Jesus loving types do just this, since money is an abstraction after all, compared to leaving a child for slavery. Of course, no one ever asks the kid if they want the slavery of the Bedouin tribes living from day to day in the open desert, or the slavery of the nine to five grind in a nameless corporate compound. And once you’ve discovered which one you prefer, it’s usually too late to do anything about it.

Good kids should only cost a few hundred dollars apiece at the slave market – peanuts compared to the Air France flight back to Paris, and the fake documents proving it’s your adopted kid. For under a grand you’ve got yourself another inductee into the Western World. Congratulations.

This avenue for getting yourself your own army of kids to do your bidding is undoubtedly cheaper than the alternative, legal adoption, or the worst of all possibilities, marriage and family. But naturally you need to question your motives – why ship the kid back? Why send him or her to a life of indentured servitude in the corporate brothels of Western Europe?

Catch and release, I say. And I’d wager that if you went down south and started shopping for slaves, your epiphany would likely end with you in your own Bedouin clothes, building your own tribe, with your own contingent of child soldiers. It’s a vast area out there and your own fiefdom isn’t such a far off dream after all. It’s always a question when one visits Chad – are the whiteys saving the children, or vice versa?

In a region dominated by the vast turquoise waters of Lake Van, the southeast corner of Turkey is a land of contrasts: From the lofty barren mountains to the broad green valleys; from the grey, noisy, urban sprawl of towns such as Van, Dogubeyazit and Hakkari to the scenic fields of wind swept grass just minutes out of town, and from the decorative apartment blocks and towering mosques to the simple mud brick villages, there’s plenty here to capture the imagination of everybody including the wide-eyed tourist who’s desperately trying to dodge the carpet sellers or the hardened backpacker, en route to northern Iraq or Armenia and Azerbaijan.

With something like 90% of the local population being comprised of the much-maligned Kurdish folk, there’s an undercurrent of tension wherever you go. As if Kurds and Turks alike are regarding you through suspicious eyes, lest you are a government plant or PKK sympathiser. Who can blame them? Why else would a tourist want to come here?

I thought I’d go and see for myself.

Kava is an enterprising Kurd who runs a small carpet shop and tourist services from his humble premises down a back street in Van. I first met him when I travelled there in 2001 and stayed in his uncle’s hotel. He’s about 34 years old, confident, and speaks fluent Turkish and Kurmanji. He also speaks very passable English and Italian; languages he says are essential if he is to survive in the dog-eat-dog world of Kurdish tourism. I wasn’t interested in buying carpets, but quickly built a rapport with Kava, recognising that he could be a very useful contact to discovering the more interesting aspects of Turkish Kurdistan.

We spent a couple of days touring the area in his ageing Toyota, in which time I made it clear that although the historical churches and Armenian ruins were very interesting, I was far more keen to get an insight into the heart of the Kurdish culture and so, the next morning, after a simple breakfast of bread and cheese, we hopped back into his car and headed south out of Van on the road to Hakkari.

After a while, we passed wide flat fields of wind-blown grass, stretching away to the nearby mountains. We cleared the inevitable, occasional military checkpoints, and headed up a deserted mountain road. Weaving around the bends slowly, always climbing, Kava was in high spirits and subjected me to his deafening Kurdish folk music on the stereo, which he proudly sang along to.

A small trail to the side of the road, between a couple of large rocks barely registered with me as we motored past, but it was enough for my singing driver to hit the brakes, reverse a short distance and go off-road.

Derabasi is a very typical Kurdish mountain village: Nestling among the foothills of the northern Zagros Mountains, the village is one of about thirty mud-brick homes representative of the thousands of such settlements that dot the mountain sides and valleys throughout this region. Hidden from view from the road, it wasn’t clear where we were headed, until we reached the top of a slight rise and the village came into view. As we slowed to negotiate the rough track, a crowd of young boys appeared and surrounded the car, threatening to pelt us with rocks; not the kind of greeting I was expecting, but understandable given the feudal lifestyle that underpins the very social structure of these mountain villages. Outsiders will always be treated with suspicion.

We faced the boys silently until an old man wandered up and spoke to Kava through his open window. A few spoken words and the crowd parted as we drove ahead. With the outer-perimeter security breached, all we now had to contend with were chickens, dogs and excited children. We drove to the end of the track and parked up between two derelict looking homesteads.

On an average working day in a Kurdish mountain village, there are very few adult men to be seen, as they are mostly out working in the fields, tending to the crops or the livestock. In the village, the women are washing, cooking and tending to the children whilst the children in question are either in school or helping around the house with their mothers and older sisters. We arrived in the early afternoon, not long after school had finished for the day (schools finish at 13:00hrs) and very quickly found ourselves being followed around the village by an ever-increasing mob of excited boys and girls. There had been a wedding that morning and although the ceremony and subsequent festivities were over, there were still a large number of visiting family members present.

A young man in his late teens, wearing a black leather jacket approached us and spoke with Kava.

“He says you are invited to his house for lunch” said Kava.

“Welcome” added the young man, and pointed in the direction of his house.

Inside the house we were asked to remove our shoes and led into the main living room where we sat on the decorative floor mats. A dozen or so of the excited children were permitted to join us along with the older family members, while the remaining mob, crowded around the windows outside, pressing their faces against the glass and blocking out most of the sunlight. Foreign visitors were evidently a rarity in these parts.

The man introduced himself as Ferat and as his sister, Zubeyde disappeared into the kitchen to rustle up a spot of lunch for us, I studied my humble surroundings. Almost devoid of furniture, the main feature of the room was a sideboard that was home to a small stereo system and a widescreen TV. Not so humble.

The main topic of conversation turned quickly to English language and suddenly I had half a dozen schoolbooks thrust in my face. As I went through the basics of numbering and the most rudimentary vocabulary with the undivided attention of all in the room, Zubeyde produced a fine spread of tea, eggs, tomatoes, cheese, cucumber, yoghurt and bread, which she laid on a large platter in the middle of the floor.

Unblinking eyes regarded me as I started to eat, and then everyone else joined in, seemingly satisfied that the eating habits of foreigners weren’t all that different from their own.

We stayed with Ferat and Zubeyde for about an hour and then graciously bid our farewells and returned to the car. A crowd of about 30 children chased us noisily all the way down to the mountain road.

I didn’t see Kava for two years after that, but when I called to say I was returning, he was there to meet me at Van airport. Business hadn’t been good since 9/11 as tourism in the region had dwindled to an all time low and passing trade in the carpet business was sparse to say the least. However, business in other areas was thriving and Kava and his wife and two sons were living comfortably.

For three days, I whiled away the hours in the carpet shop, watching people come and go and brushing up on my Kurmanji. Kava and I made frequent visits around town and outlying villages, wherever there was a sniff of tourists. He clearly knew a lot of people and I wondered, not for the first time, what other ‘businesses’ he was involved in. I began to ask him more and more probing questions. I was even bold enough to mention the PKK but as always, he was politely evasive.

I decided a more direct approach may produce results and told Kava I’d like to be introduced to the “workers” if he knew anyone that might be able to arrange it, but he just said that would be far too dangerous and they’d most likely rob me and shoot me. I didn’t believe it, but felt it unwise to be too pushy.

As the days slipped by, Kava grew aware of how frustrated I was getting at not making any headway.

“I have an idea”, he said on the afternoon of the fifth day.

“Tomorrow, we’re going to take a drive to the north”. “I have a friend you should meet”

Murat was a tall, solid build, intimidating man, with short-cropped hair and a big smile. He made me wary. When we first arrived at his restaurant, Kava and Murat disappeared for a chat and I was left to drink tea with three young, attractive girls who were also visiting. Eventually Kava returned and told me he was going to drive back to Van, but I should stay, and Murat would take good care of me. We bade our farewells and Kava left.

Murat fixed me with an intense gaze, studied me for a moment before smiling broadly and said,

“Come, let’s talk.”

And so we talked, mostly him asking questions about my family, and me but also offering information on his own background. It came somewhat as a surprise when his tone became more serious and he asked if I would agree to become his brother. I chose my words very carefully:

“Why do you want me to be your brother”, I asked, “you don’t really know me”.

“Kava has talked to me about you. I trust him; I trust you”, he replied.

“I had three brothers”, he continued, “Two of them were shot, fighting for the PKK. Now, the other is in jail for the same reason.”

“You are with the PKK?” I asked, quietly.

“Everybody here is” said Murat. My eyes followed his around the room, taking in the handful of restaurant staff.

Murat called over Ficat, a tall, Arabic looking man and said something in Kurdish. A few seconds later, Ficat returned clutching a Kalshnikov assault-rifle and receiving a small nod from Murat, handed it to me. I checked it over; unhooking the banana shaped clip, and seeing that it wasn’t empty, I reattached it and unfolded the gunmetal shoulder rest.

“Can we take it outside for a little sport?” I asked, giving Murat a sly smile.

“Unfortunately, no”, he said, “It’ll bring the military running”.

I handed the AK back to Ficat and he spoke a few words to Murat before spiriting the weapon away. Ficat was a grim looking man, who hardly spoke a word. I thought to myself “he’s one to watch”.

We drunk a lot that evening and talked. I asked Murat for his views on the horrific stories we hear about the PKK, the allegations of the mindless execution of countless schoolteachers, tourist kidnappings and extensive bombing campaigns. He replied that it was mostly misinformation spread by the Turkish media to fuel anti-PKK sentiment. It’s no great secret that Kurdish newspapers and radio stations are a bit thin on the ground and so there remains little that the Kurdish Workers Party can do to counter the propaganda that so effectively reaches the listening world.

“So are you saying the teachers weren’t killed then?” I asked.

“Yes, they were killed” he said, “but they were working for the government as spies. We know that.” “The Turkish government want you to believe that we will kill innocent people, but that’s not the truth”.

I had a whole raft of questions for Murat, and he certainly seemed happy to answer them. However, the three girls I had met earlier joined us and the conversation immediately changed to less clandestine matters.

As the beer flowed we began taking it in turns to sing songs around the table, and outside the sun set behind the distant mountains. Eventually, after numerous songs and countless beers, Murat tried to say something to me in slurred broken English but only succeeded in passing out with his chin on my shoulder. Ficat and I help him to his room and left him snoring loud enough to wake the dead. I went to my room and crashed out fully clothed with my desert boots still on.

The following morning I was woken by Murat’s beaming face at the window. Considering my pounding head, he seemed remarkably, (annoyingly) lively and when I opened the door he bounded in and said,
“Come. We leave in 20 minutes”.

I didn’t know where we were going but when Ficat clambered into the back of the car with me and Murat leant over and handed him a Browning pistol, I began to think I may have learned too much the evening before. Visions of a hastily dug grave half an hour outside of town occupied my mind and I had to remind myself that Kava had introduced me to these people and he at least I knew I could trust.

As things turned out, we just took a drive into town to drink tea and try to make contact with family members of the nomads who live on the slopes of Mount Ararat. Murat had previously suggested that I might want to spend time with the nomads and I had responded favourably to the idea. That was enough for him to set the wheels in motion, even though I may have completely forgotten the conversation. That, of course is another story.

Unfortunately, time ran out for me in East Turkey and I had to fly back to the UK, but shortly before I departed, Murat took me to have lunch with his parents at their place down a leafy back street in the centre of town. We ate bread and cheese and drank tea before it was time for me race to catch the bus. Ficat drove me the short distance to the bus terminal and bade me farewell with the customary kiss on both cheeks. As the local mosque sounded the afternoon aazzaan (call-to-prayer), I climbed into the minibus and we rolled of down the baking hot, dusty high street. Ficat waved, smiling his yellow-toothed smile. He still never spoke a word to me though.

In 1986 when the international wires announced that the Liberian government was contemplating offering sanctuary to Haitian dictator Baby Doc Duvalier, the world community turned its spotlight on ‘The Love of Liberty.’ African watchers (including Liberians – I being one) could not fathom why the Liberian government of the day wanted to welcome the much-hated Baby Doc on Liberian soil.

One African watcher who tacitly criticized the Liberian government for such contemplation was Liberian broadcaster Charlotte Mae Phelps. Her criticism was contained in the article A Good Run Is Better Than A Brave Stand in the now disbanded Footprints Magazine. This is what she wrote of Baby Doc, “If it is true that he has run away with four hundred million dollars plus, political crimes would seem to pay off…. It’s easy to understand now why some men kill to come to power and kill even more to stay in power.”

Phelps further referred to Baby Doc and his likes (CAR’s Bokassa, Uganda’s Amin and Obete, Iran’s Shah Plavate, Philippines’ Marcos, Sudan’s Numeiri and Nicaragua’s Samoza) as “robber lords,” adding, “This has been a decade of ROBBERS ON THE RUN.” In the end, Baby Doc did not come to Liberia because the late President Samuel Doe took a good run, fearing that a brave stand to welcome Baby Doc would have ignited a wave of opposition from Liberians.

Once more the spotlight is on Liberia. Again this time in the decade of 2000, ROBBERS ARE ON THE RUN. However, this time around the robbers are all Liberians. And what are they on the run for? The presidency, of course- the highest position in the land- is being contested.

Of late, these Liberian robbers also know as TATS (thieves and thugs), have been ‘speechmaking’ and ‘fanfaring’ about their ardent desire to contest the 2005 presidency. These TATS are really shameless/spineless as they go about denouncing and debunking former President Charles Taylor for dictatorship and debauchery! Today they all have ‘the resolve’ to accuse the former President of mismanaging the nation’s resources and mistreating his own kith and kin!

Wow, that must be the biggest joke of this century! When did these TATS graduate from thievery and thuggery? Did they graduate last August 11 when the former President went into involuntary exile? Or did they graduate last October 14 when the current Liberian government came into being?

Weren’t they the ones who revered the former President as ‘The Papay’ who couldn’t do anything evil? Weren’t they the ones who said the former President was chosen by God and called him such names as ‘The Beloved Leader,’ and ‘The Dear Leader?’ Weren’t they the ones who advised The Papay, urging him to ‘deal drastically with his opponents?’ Weren’t they the ones who globe trotted and procured arms for The Papay to prosecute his dream of a ‘West African Empire’ in which he would have been crowned ‘The Emperor?’

To now summersault 360 degrees, exonerating yourselves from the erstwhile Chief Executive in whose behalf you were executing the dream of a West African Empire reminds us of Saddam Hussein’s captured men who now vilify him (Saddam) as ‘Beelzebub.’ This act of somersaulting and exonerating yourselves from your former benevolent dictator ‘mindbuggles’ us, the rest of us against whom you once launched your tirades for and in his behalf.

You TATS must be fantasizing, thinking that Liberians have forgotten how like your former boss, you starved and stripped them of their genuine financial resources, becoming the ‘noveau riche.’ You TATS, you ‘smoking cigar devils,’ Liberians have not forgotten you vandalized the sanctity of their women, turning thousands of teenage girls into prostitutes.

Hence, how can we entrust this country into your hands again? You will not just be remote controlled from Calabar (Nigeria) where The Papay is involuntarily exiled, but also you will be brave to put our mothers to the poles and order your resurrected Gestapo styled Anti Terrorist Unit soldiers to shoot them to teach us a lesson for telling your benefactor “Go, Papay, go; go with your big, big lies!”

You TATS, you are in deeds and words like Uloko and his peers in Ifeoma Okoye’s Men Without Ears. In the novel, Uloko and his peers live lavishly from the chronic corruption and indecent actions that they carry. What is worst is that because of his outright drive for wealth at all cost, Nloko even negates the advise of his own father who concludes that Nloko is now part of “the people in the land of men without ears.”

Indeed, indeed, these TATS and the former Chief Executive were truly ‘men without ears’ when they officially ruled this country for the last six years. They shunned all pieces of advice and the cries of the downtrodden Liberians.

It is too late, TATS. You are asking us to do the impossible – to cheer you to win the race. We are like Chigo who tells his brother, “Uloko, you are asking me to do the impossible.” You TATS, you are like Uloko who is likened to a rat when Okoye writes, “The rat that joins the lizard for a frolic in the rain will remember only when it is too late that he will not dry himself as easily as the lizard.” So how can you TATS easily dry yourselves after you joined The Papay and partied in the ocean of wealth through misrule?

The best you TATS can do for yourselves is to take a good withdrawal now from the presidential race. This will help you from depleting your ‘knocked out’ (stolen) money and may assist you not to be like Uloko, whose brave run and stay in corruption led him first to hypertension, second to coma and third to death.

For the past twenty-five years, Liberia was ruled by ‘men without ears,’ men who wrecked the country and made Liberians to be part of Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth. This time around, Liberia needs ‘men with ears,’ not ‘men without ears!’ This time around, Liberia needs ‘men with ears,’ not ‘men without ears!’ Liberia needs men who will lift them up from wretchedness to richness, so that when the roll of well-to-do people is called, they will all answer present and thank the Good Old Lord for ‘taking them a mighty long way!’

Someone once told me that he was all for free trade but couldn’t understand why free trade agreements needed thousands of pages. The simple answer is that this is not free trade. All that is required for free trade are willing buyers and sellers agreeing voluntarily to deal peacefully with each other, the eradication of protectionist tariffs, quotas and subsidies, and the presence of important foundations of a free market economy such as secure property rights and sound money. So instead of a massive, detailed agreement between governments (which, to be fair, would make a handy doorstop) that invariably includes a witches brew of subsidies, bailouts, aid programs, bogus regulations, exceptions, bureaucracies, quotas, favours, cartelisation, etc. one would really need a commitment by governments to stay the heck out. And there is a Father Christmas.

Bill Clinton had more than a passing resemblance to Santa, with his hearty laugh, desire to be liked by all, and his showering of gifts on many off the backs of the little people. His commitment to free trade was also the stuff of fiction. Witness NAFTA, with its expansionary bureaucratic structure, the bailout of Mexico, exclusionary deals, subsidies, dubious spending programs; all hardly the stuff of free markets. The bullying of foreign countries like Japan over their automobiles and photographic film, Thailand’s rice, the birth of the WTO, export subsidies, tariffs, production subsidies, and other monstrosities. While free in Clinton’s slictionary may mean what he wishes it to mean, in most other people’s books, free, like say, liar, is pretty clear.

The current leader of the free world President George W. Bush likes to portray the image of a straight shooter. In his election campaign he sounded dedicated to promoting free trade to the world, saying it had not only an economic but also a moral basis. But somewhere along the line he dropped his free trade commitment and replaced his blanks with deadly protectionist cartridges. The signing of the massive farm bill with its subsidies for farmers of $180 billion over ten years (an increase over existing spending programs of $73.5 billion) was a large blow against free trade and free enterprise. As were the likes of the textile, lumber and Catfish industries running for protection. In the meantime, the United States has been negotiating a series of regional and bilateral trade deals around the world, all for various reasons. For example, trade representatives have been in talks with Australia over a “free trade” agreement but not New Zealand, with the former supporting the US over the Iraq war and the latter not. So because governments disagree with each other, its citizens should suffer from possible benefits from reduced tariffs and the like that may arise from “free trade” agreements. Thus reducing barriers to trade is seen as some form of gift or favour to be handed down by benevolent governments. But producers and consumers don’t normally enter into foreign trade because they are feeling generous (as opposed to those in government who spend other people’s money); the quality of the product or its price usually determines whether a trade will be entered into. If they could get a better deal elsewhere they would pursue that opportunity. So not only are the wishes of buyers and sellers being interfered with, but scarce resources are also being directed away from more to less valued lines of production, meaning lower overall wealth. And then there were, of course, the steel tariffs of last year. Some defenders argued that this cave-in was necessary for Bush in order for him to get Trade Promotion Authority (formerly known as “fast-track authority”) whereby he could take a trade agreement to Congress and they could have an up-or-down vote on it (ie. either vote to accept or reject it with no amendments). Clearly, if he needed to compromise on steel, he would have to buckle on other things in his “free trade” deals to retain his fast track authority.

So what of the steel tariffs then? The US International Trade Commission came out recently with its report on their impact. It is a case study in the effects of tariffs. A politically well connected group, the steel industry, gained special protection, ostensibly to give it some breathing space and allow it to restructure even though this industry has pleaded for special protection in the past for the same reason and imports have been decreasing of late. Its share of the US market increased from 79.6 per cent to 81 per cent (although its share of worldwide steel production fell from 12.4 per cent to 10.2 per cent). But even despite the steel tariffs, thirty-one steel companies went bust and employment in the industry has dropped 10 per cent. Prices have gone up and, as expected, those manufacturers who use steel in their products and the consumers of their products have been slugged in the process, with thousands and thousands of job losses in related industries. The Bush administration is now under pressure to drop the tariffs, not only by the WTO who have just ruled the tariffs illegal, and the EU, Japan, China and South Korea who have promised to apply their own tariffs and sanctions on unrelated US exports (the law of increasing protectionist stupidity), but also by opposing forces in the United States representing steel producers and consumers in the run up to Presidential elections in 2004.

The European Union was up in arms over the decision. However, the hypocrisy of European Union politicians stinks like surplus piles of taxpayer-subsidised Common Agricultural Policy cow excrement. European taxpayers have the misfortune to subsidise mostly rich agricultural interests (around half of the spending goes to the largest 17% of farming enterprises) by $41 billion per year and put up protectionist barriers against the imports of those poor countries that try and compete with European agriculture. These subsidies, which make up half of the EU budget, lead to overproduction, crowding out competitors from the Developing World, with deadly effect. The Centre for the New Europe estimates that “[o]ne person dies every 13 seconds somewhere in the world – mainly in Africa – because the European Union does not act on trade as it talks.” Quotas and tariffs on non-agricultural products are also rife. Jacques Chirac, for instance, seems (allegedly) to care for Iraqi war victims, but not much (do they ever?) about taxpayers and (conclusively) not for African trade victims.

It’s no wonder then that many in the Developing World are losing faith in the “Developed” World and their continued proclamations of commitment over the years to free trade. Unfortunately, much of the blame for their lack of development is being placed on “free trade” which is in actual fact a mix of protectionism, mercantilism and managed trade.

So what then are the economic arguments for free trade? Well, just as it makes no sense for a doctor to grow his own potatoes when he can get them cheaper from a farmer, also enabling him to treat patients instead of them treating themselves, and it makes no sense for a farmer to make his own jeans when he can buy them from a clothing manufacturer, nor does it make sense for those in a specific district to be self-sufficient. And just as it makes no sense to create barriers between various districts within a state, or between states within a country, which would interrupt the regional specialisation and division of labour, so does it not make sense to apply barriers to international trade. The theory of comparative advantage, the ultimate economic basis of free trade, demonstrates that even if a country (that is the individuals or groups of individuals within it) can produce certain goods (eg. apples) more efficiently than another country, it might still pay for the former to buy from the latter. This would be so if the value from alternative production (eg. wine) it could have entered into (ie. the opportunity cost) exceeds the value arising from the production of apples. What tariffs, quotas, subsidies and other protectionist measures accomplish is to distort production and trade, interfering with the international division of labour and specialisation, and as a consequence lowering overall wealth. Restrictions by governments on foreign investment in the material means of production, capital, which is the key to the raising of productivity and hence wage rates, will also ensure that the poor stay poor. Unfortunately, as is the case with many beneficial principles, genuine free trade has been distorted and trashed. That its so-called defenders and proponents in government have been party to it says nothing about the case for free trade and a lot about them and government.

What Next for the US and Saudi?

Author: Rob Wood

Note: This piece was written on 1 April, 2003, a month before the announcement that the US was withdrawing forces from KSA.

It would almost be an understatement to say that relations between the US and Saudi Arabia (KSA) have been strained over the last few years. The fact that many of the 911 suicide bombers hailed from KSA as well as the corresponding perceived lack of action by the Saudi Government in curbing the influence of extremists within the gulf state after 911 has been a major bone of contention between these powers. Recent developments, however, might indicate that the US is willing to tolerate recalcitrant rhetoric in return for securing practical Saudi cooperation, at least for the time being. KSA is pursuing a public face of strident opposition to the attack on Iraq at the same time lending active practical support to the US in that attack. But will the changed strategic environment after the attack on Iraq change things between these powers?

The rhetoric coming from Riyadh might lead many to suggest the strident opposition of the KSA government to the war. The comparative silence by Washington on issues of Saudi cooperation for the attack on Iraq would do little to dispel this view. Riyadh speaks of “brother Saddam” and publicly condemns the war. Crown Prince Abdullah publicly proclaims that,. “The kingdom will not in any way participate in the war on Iraq. Its forces will not in any way enter one inch of Iraqi territory.” There have been many offers of Saudi involvement in brokering peace deals between Iraq and the US in an effort to stave off the action, as well as public professions of discomfort with the US position on this issue.

The press of both the Middle East and the West, with only a few exceptions, has chosen to focus on the rhetorical opposition of KSA to the US attack on Iraq. Some reporters have even mistakenly named KSA as being absent from the list of US allies – a symptom of the lax press coverage of their real cooperation and the focus on their rhetorical damnation of the military action. The fact that Donald Rumsfeld’s revelation that some members of the “Coalition of the Willing” did not wish to be publicly named was most likely a result of Saudi requests, was overlooked by most media.

The extent to which KSA is willing to go to cover up its cooperation with the US is also an interesting factor in this relationship between the US and KSA. An element of the sensitivity of Riyadh to public disclosure of its close ties with Washington was seen during the last Arab Summit. Colonel Gadhafi of Libya launched a verbal assault against KSA, warning of the dangers of allowing US troops to be stationed there. He was met by the angry interdiction of Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah who publicly called him a liar. It was heated exchange which made news around the world. Unfortunately for the Prince, this episode simply highlighted to many the fact of Saudi cooperation with the US in allowing the current troop buildup. The Prince’s retorts were effectively hot air.

The cold hard cooperation of the KSA government with the US is quite far reaching. The US commander of the air war is actually being hosted by the KSA government and the bombing campaign is being directed from that country without the wide knowledge of the Saudi public. The airfields at Tabuk and Arar were closed months ago to civilian traffic and have been devoted exclusively to American military operations. Prince Sultan Airport is also being used by the Americans in their push to Baghdad with up to 5000 troops being based there (it was previously used as the US air command centre for operations to Afghanistan). Total US troop deployment within KSA has reached as high as 11000 without even taking into account the reports of UK troops deployments to the Kingdom.

Saudi cooperation with the US attack on Iraq again came to the fore at the time of Turkey’s decision not to allow the US to use Turkey as a staging ground for the attack. Reports came as late as March 15 that the US was redeploying some of its naval assets from the Mediterranean so that any missile attacks from the ships would not cross Turkish soil (even though some missile have in fact crashed in Turkey). Those ships were to be redeployed to the Red Sea where they would have the ability to strike at Iraq with Saudi cooperation via the use of Tomahawk Missiles. Once again the permission of KSA to conduct such attacks across Saudi territory is indicative of the practical cooperation they are lending the US campaign. Effectively, the Saudis are pursuing a policy of conciliation to anti-US domestic elements whilst at the same time conciliating the US with practical cooperation kept under wraps – a duplicitous policy carried on for some time now.

So what does this mean for the future Saudi-US relationship? It would seem that the US came to the realisation a while ago that the Saudi government is willing to lend the US practical support on the condition that the US doesn’t make the domestic situation for the Saudis uncomfortable. The current practical realities of waging war on Iraq means that the US has accepted the double-dealing role of the Saudis without much complaint. The real test for the relationship between KSA and the US will come with the conclusion of the war on Iraq when the US no longer strictly needs its military based in KSA due to its position in Iraq. At that point we are likely to see the true sentiment of America towards the Saudi penchant for publicly criticising US actions. At such a time it would seem unlikely that the relationship will benefit from the existing Saudi attitude.

Colombia. To some, the mere name conjures up images of coca fields and swarthy-looking men with slicked-back hair and a long pinky fingernail exchanging briefcases full of cash for brick-sized packages wrapped in duct-tape. Others think of an RPG ambush on white, USGOV Suburbans or of pink t-shirts, covered by cheap suit jackets, a la Miami Vice. And then, there are those of us that have actually been there.

For those of us that have been to Colombia, most will agree the first thing that strikes you upon arrival is the sheer beauty of the countryside. There are mountains, plains, jungles, snow-capped peaks, headwaters of the Amazon and cities as large and as modern as those of the US. Indeed, Colombia is one of the most diverse countries in the world. As one travel advertisement reads: “If you want to go to the Caribbean, go to Puerto Rico. If you want to see the Andes, go to Peru. If you want to see the Equator, go to Ecuador. If you want to see the Pacific Coast, vacation in Costa Rica. If you want to see the Amazon, travel in Brazil. But if you want to see all of this-go to Colombia.” If anyone has traveled around Colombia for any length of time, they know that statement to be true.

Yes, it’s true Colombia had over 35,000 violent deaths last year. It is the kidnapping capital of the world. They are in the middle of a 40-year old civil war that has developed more sides than a south-Georgia demolition derby. It has millions of displaced citizens, swelling the populations of the larger cities to the breaking point. The roads between cities are rarely traveled due to the various illegal factions vying for territory, with the average citizen normally coming out on the losing end. So, with all this in mind, why would anyone spend precious vacation time in a bona fide 5-star World’s Most Dangerous Place? Easy: the people.

If anyone has spent time around the average person in Colombia, they have learned the true meaning of hospitality and humility. Entire generations have grown up knowing nothing but war, yet in the midst of the turmoil, there is more than an abundance of smiles. A Colombian may not be rich, but he (or she) will gladly invite you into their home for whatever meal they are able to prepare. Chances are, you’ll even walk out with a little gift from them-a chiva perhaps? (A chiva is a very Colombian bus, wildly painted and used traditionally to transport people, chickens, coffee and every other imaginable thing between small towns. Today, miniature replicas are popular as small souvenirs for the occasional gringo passing through).

I am constantly amazed at that magic that each Colombian possesses-that incredible ability to be happy. Almost no one has been left untouched by the war-many have had family members kidnapped or murdered. Most have been financially affected by the increasingly poor condition of the economy due to the struggle. More still have been forced to flee their small villages for larger cities when the rebels took over the area. However, happiness not only survives but thrives. No place is a more shining example of this than Andres’ Carne de Res.

If ever in Bogotá, take the one hour trip north to the town of Chia and visit Andres’ Carne de Res, literally one of the most unique restaurants on the face of the earth. It started years ago when Andres himself set up a small shack that specialized in steaks, South American-style-cooked on large grills. The goal was to create not only a place to eat but also a place for families to have fun together. Andres employed clowns, magicians and storytellers to entertain the children. For the adults, there were wooden picnic-style tables that would accommodate several large families so they could all participate in the conversation. There was always plenty of music and the ever-present refajo (the typical Colombian thirst-quencher made up of Colombiana, a soft-drink like cream soda, beer and a little shot of Aguardiente). Soon, the crowds swelled beyond the capacity of the small, wooden room. Andres was forced to add addition after addition throughout the years until it stands today as one long structure made up of many open-air rooms. Some rooms hold large grills in the middle. Some have a sandbox for the children. Others have a cotton candy machine and a dance floor. The place is still full of musicians, magicians and waiters who act out entire plays involving the diners.

What started out as a way to help the unemployed artists in the area has turned into the restaurant’s trademark-the small, handmade objects that contain Andres’ name. Order a fine Cuban cigar and receive it in a metal tube, molded and hand painted with an old bottlecap holding the cigar inside. Want some cigarettes? Get them in a small woven, hand-painted sack with you-know-who’s name conspicuously displayed. Desserts come in a large dollhouse that opens to reveal the goodies inside. Fruit is served from a Carmen Miranda-like mound on the head of a dancer attired in a flowered dress. And that’s not even mentioning the walls, floors and ceilings! Suffice it to say, it will be the most interesting way to display a menu one will ever see. A small metal box comes down from the ceiling containing the menu in such a way that one must turn the knobs to scroll through the selections. And then there’s the wall ornaments…. well, those you’ll just have to find out for yourself.

To visit Andres’ on a Sunday is to have a restaurant experience that one will remember for a lifetime. There is no talk of war at Andres’ on Sundays. There are only those beautiful Colombian smiles. Smiles from the grandparents holding the children, smiles from the children holding the free sparklers and smiles from Andres who still walks around thinking of new ideas for the walls.

Yes, Colombia is at war; no one is pretending it is not. The Colombian people have many long days ahead of them as a nation; that is a fact. However, to these daunting and dark days, they have learned to turn a face displaying a smile that is both warm and genuine and that is something we all can learn a lesson from.

Author: Cristobal Campos
E-mail: expatriated@hotmail.com

It is fairly well known that the last couple of years in Zimbabwe have seen an increasingly harsh crackdown on journalists and newspapers, local and foreign, critical of President Mugabe’s brutal and desperate attempts to remain in power. According to Reporters sans Frontieres (Reporters Without Borders – RSF), an organisation dedicated to protecting the free press in the world, in 2001, twenty local journalists were arrested and three foreign correspondents expelled in Zimbabwe, in addition to the general intimidation. What is not so well known, or is easy to forget, is that the struggle for a press free from intimidation and coercion, in the rest of the African continent, is a continuous one.

North east of Zimbabwe, in Eritrea, all privately owned publications were suspended in September 2001 because they “were putting the unity of the country in danger,” and a number of journalists fled, if they weren’t locked up in jail already. In Equatorial Guinea, an independent media hardly exists and is constantly harassed; self-censorship amongst the government media is rife. The Paris-based RSF (http://www.rsf.org), have a list of 9 other so-called “Predators” of press freedom in Africa; leaders of Angola, Burkina Faso, DRC, Ethiopia, Libya, Rwanda, Swaziland, Togo and Tunisia, who they see as the main culprits in the consistent clampdown on those local journalists who don’t parrot the official line. Although other countries and their leaders may not be on the list, they are still capable of repression.

The last few weeks have been no exception. According to RSF, an independent newspaper, African Champion, was closed down in Sierra Leone, because it criticised the son of the President. A privately owned radio station, West Africa Democracy Radio, was refused a licence for reasons of “national security,” because it would have a range capable of reaching Liberia and Guinea. In Gabon, the weeklies Misamu and Gabaon were suspended for three months for publishing news “that undermines confidence in the state and the dignity of those responsible for the republic’s institutions.” In the Democratic Republic of Congo, two managers of the Alerte Plus newspaper, Raymond Kabala and Delly Bonsange, were sentenced to twelve and six months in jail respectively, plus were handed fines in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, because of a false allegation they published about the death of a public official that was corrected by them the next day. In June, Hassan Bility, editor of the privately owned Liberian weekly newspaper, The Analyst, was arrested for allegedly plotting with rebel forces to kill President Charles Taylor. No charges have been laid and there has been no sign of him since.

According to the New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists (http://www.cpj.org/), the Sudanese journalist Osman Merghani, a columnist for the Khartoum-based daily Al-Rai Al-Aam newspaper, was detained after he criticised the Sudanese government on Qatar-based al-Jazeera television station for pulling out of the Sudanese peace talks. In Niger, two journalists were detained after covering a mutiny of soldiers. And back in Zimbabwe, a private news production company, Voice of the People (VOP) Communications Trust, that had previously received undue attention from the police, had their offices bombed by unknown persons, all their equipment being destroyed.

When George Bush Jr. made his first intimations that the US may again invade Iraq, this time to remove Saddam Hussein from power, the world raised a collective eyebrow. This certainly wasn’t a new idea (Clinton had previously intimated that if Iraq complied with every requirement then the US may still not lift sanctions), but many thought he was getting a little carried away with the war on terror. What then has changed in the Middle East political scene that would attract renewed ire from a line of US presidents? There are several possible strategic reasons that the US may want to take another look at in the region.

The secret of Saddam’s ambitions with regards to weapons of mass destruction (WMDs) was possibly the worst kept secret since Liberace’s “outing”. At the end of the Gulf War it was amply clear that Saddam had a far greater biological and chemical weapons program than was originally thought. Scarier still was the fact that he had proven his willingness to employ such weapons in the Iran conflict of the preceding decade. The continued frustration of the United Nations Weapons inspectors (UNSCOM) in being allowed to properly assess the scope of the program showed to the world that Saddam was not serious about complying with his obligations after the Gulf War ended. UNSCOM was evicted from Iraq in 1998.

Since the eviction of UNSCOM, there have been several Iraqi defectors more than willing to tell tales of Saddam’s renewed vigour in constructing WMDs. The problem in trusting such sources is their reliance on their stories to ensure their welcome as refugees to the West.

Nevertheless, whilst there is no sure way of knowing the exact capacity of Saddam’s chemical and biological arsenal, the likelihood that it has been amply increased is almost a certainty if the pre-1998 findings of UNSCOM are anything to go by. UNSCOM chairman, Richard Butler, at the time of eviction in 1998, was unwilling to give a declaration that Iraq’s capacity or willingness to produce WMDs had been negated, citing the unwillingness of the Iraqis to provide evidence of such. (The onus of proof was placed firmly on Iraq by the agreed-upon cease-fire terms in 1991.) Combined with unexplained instances of weaponised biological agents found in Iraq during UNSCOM’s stay, it would be a stretch to argue that Iraq had ceased its pursuits in this area since 1998.

The recalcitrance of Hussein’s regime also means that Iraq is in violation of at least eight Security Council resolutions according to Butler. International law also allows resolutions of the UN Security Council to be enforced. Allowing Saddam to continue to thumb his nose at the Security Council can only have detrimental repercussions for the legitimacy of that world body if they are allowed to continue in the medium- to long-term. This thought alone may sway the Security Council towards passing the required Enabling Resolution to legitimise any potential US invasion of Iraq. We can also be assured of continued US lobbying for this to happen.

Perhaps most worrying to the US is the growing popularity of Saddam with other countries of the Middle East. Last month’s exchange of POWs from the Iran-Iraq war of the 80s was enough to bring a tear to the eye of all but the most cynical humanitarians. George Bush’s Axis of Evil speech, citing both Iraq and Iran as offenders, probably also served to drive these two former enemies closer together. The last Arab summit also saw Iraq make overtones of reconciliation towards both Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, which was welcomed by the rest of the participants.

Whilst Iraq will probably not quite be receiving Christmas cards from either Saudi Arabia or Kuwait this year (for more than the obvious reason!) the path to reconciliation has certainly begun. Bush Jr. may indeed be losing some sleep over the possibility of an Arab world united in purpose, with Saddam pulling some of the strings. The thought of Saddam being able to turn off the Middle East oil taps (or at least have increased influence in this process) may also upset some of Bush’s buddies in certain companies that shall remain nameless. Yes, the dreaded cliché of oil again creeps into the equation.

Two other aspects of Middle East politics that will need immediate attention by the US if Bush is to attack Iraq are the Israeli-Palestinian situation and the threat of social unrest in Saudi Arabia. The worsening situation of the Palestinians will have a great effect on the level of Middle Eastern support that the US can expect in the event of an attack on Iraq. So too the situation in Saudi Arabia, which will surely worsen in the event of a US attack. Such could put a severe strain on the ability of the current Saudi administration to retain power.

Many armchair psychoanalysts may also want to take a crack at Saddam’s Hammurabi complex. Rather than digging up the archaeological sites of the great kingdom of Babylon, Saddam is ordering their reconstruction, complete with brick carrying his own inscriptions. Anyone with a sense of history in the Middle East will know this cannot be taken in a positive light by the region if they have any concern for their own security. Combined with Saddam’s past aggressive indiscretions against his neighbours, and continued rhetoric about a united Arab world, we may be excused for thinking we have a classic megalomaniac on our hands. (He also refused to meet with Richard Butler or Rolf Ekeus of UNSCOM at any point, as he considered it beneath his dignity – how medieval!) The short of it is that Saddam’s goals do not stop at the borders of Iraq.

Whilst no evidence has been found to link Iraq to the terrorist attacks of September 11, Saddam knows he is in the spotlight of the US. The continued sabre-rattling of Washington, combined with Saddam’s knowledge of his own guilt on the aforementioned points, has led to somewhat of a back flip on his part. Twelve years to the day after the invasion of Kuwait, Saddam has expressed his willingness to have UN weapons inspectors return to Iraq. Predictably, the US has rejected these overtures as a joke.

Only two things remain to explain Saddam’s change of heart. The first reason is that he obviously sees the US efforts in lobbying for support are beginning to have effect. Even Jordan seems to have taken a lighter view of a new attack on Iraq (they were neutral in 1991). Despite King Abdullah’s public anti-war rhetoric, he has allowed a small amount of US forces into Jordan to make preparations for the pending invasion. Saddam knows that most countries in the world cannot afford to support Iraq at the expense of offending the US. Secondly, he also knows the propensity of US presidents for launching attacks during periods of popularity slump. Bush is certainly in no trouble in that arena at the moment, but the support for his administration will wane and is already showing signs of such. Saddam would be aware of this and know that he has limited time to react.

The upshot of all of this is that the US administration may feel it is necessary to attack Iraq sooner rather than later. Iraq has an increasingly supported position in the Middle East that is beginning to infringe on the ability of the West to exert their influence over this strategically important region. Bush will continue to lobby for support in an attack on Iraq. If he is able to get this and it coincides with declining domestic approval, then the likelihood is that we will see the situation come to a head with the removal of Saddam. The strategic reasons are becoming apparent and the efforts of Washington are currently focused on modifying the individual situations that would inhibit the ability of a US attack. War in Iraq is imminent.