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Observer
5 days ago
- General
- Observer
A reflection on value, work and dignity
It is hard to live without a piece of bread. How can one feed a family? How can a future be built without a salary? These are not just questions; they are cries of millions who wake up each day trapped in a cycle where survival takes precedence over dreams. In a quiet café on the edge of a bustling city, a conversation unfolded that left a lasting impression. A young graduate, full of hope yet weighed by despair, turned to his friend and said, "They offered me RO 400. I asked myself, is that what I'm worth?" His friend sighed. "That's all they give to every starter. You should take it." Here lies the tragedy of our times, not in the number, but in the belief that worth should be defined by what is offered, not by what is brought to the table. This is not a suggestion to reject jobs, nor a promotion of idleness or detached idealism. What must be advocated is simple but powerful: Never let others define your value. If an individual does not set his price, someone else will often set it far below what is deserved. The prevailing system, corporate, capitalist, profit-driven, demands energy, creativity, time, and soul. And in return? It gives just enough to survive, never to thrive. Noam Chomsky once remarked, "The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion." Today, that limitation extends to self-worth. Society has taught acceptance without questioning. But one must pause. Reflect. If an offer is RO 400, how much value is actually being generated for the organisation? In many cases, an employee's ideas, execution, and presence generate five, ten, or even 20 times more than their compensation. Paulo Freire in Pedagogy of the Oppressed argued that the greatest form of oppression is making people believe that their suffering is natural. That earning a low wage is just part of the process. That struggling is noble. But struggling without justice is not noble, it is exploitation. There is a story worth sharing. Years ago, a young professional entered the job market with optimism and readiness to serve. An offer came, one that was far below what his qualifications and potential warranted. Still, it was accepted under the belief, "At least it's a start." That individual worked tirelessly, produced results, and brought innovation. Yet the promotion never came. The salary hike never happened. Until a mentor once said, "If you price yourself cheap, don't expect the world to increase your rate." That sentence was transformative. To those reading this, especially those wondering if it's acceptable to say no to an underwhelming offer, know this: it is more than okay. It is right. Each person must calculate his rent, food and future. Ask: Can this salary support a family? Can peace be found knowing one is underpaid? No individual was born to be a number on a payroll sheet. Every person is of potential and excellence. Walt Whitman once wrote, "I am large, I contain multitudes." Each human holds multitudes within. Never let a paycheque shrink the spirit. The corporate world may not change overnight. But individual stories can. Change begins with one choice. One decision. One moment of courage to declare: I am worth more. Let this message echo. Let the world be reminded of human values, not with arrogance, but with clarity and courage. And perhaps, others will follow. A movement may begin. A system may evolve, not just for today, but for all the generations yet to come. Value must be honoured. Dignity must be priced right. And no one should ever settle for less than they truly deserve. Mohammed Anwar Al Balushi The writer works for Middle East College
The Hindu
24-05-2025
- Politics
- The Hindu
Militarised Kashmir: Where Peace Remains Elusive
Published : May 24, 2025 18:15 IST - 5 MINS READ In the shadow of the Himalaya, the Kashmir Valley—once serenaded by poets—is now eerily quiet. The hush is not peace but paralysis, a silence heavy with occupation, suspicion, and forgotten promises. Once envisioned as a crown jewel of India's postcolonial federation, Kashmir today lies buried beneath a fortress of military installations, surveillance drones, and barbed wire. India's claim of development is dwarfed by the reality of desolation. With nearly 700,000 troops stationed in the Valley, Kashmir holds the distinction of being one of the most militarised zones on earth. The omnipresence of military boots is not incidental; it is intentional. This is the face of state power in the 21st century—what Michel Foucault described as 'biopower', the ability to manage life by calculating what lives, and what dies. India's defence budget swelled to $72.6 billion last year, outpacing healthcare and education combined. Pakistan, though economically beleaguered, follows a parallel track, investing in F-16s and Chinese drones while millions of its citizens struggle with food insecurity. This is not budgetary imbalance; it is a political theology that prizes territorial domination over human well-being. Arms race Both nations have adopted what Noam Chomsky termed the logic of the 'manufactured enemy': an ever-present threat used to justify the machinery of war and the erosion of civil liberties. Kashmir serves as this manufactured arena, a theatre where nationalism is rehearsed through force, not dialogue. Also Read | The LoC is calm again, but Kashmiris still live under the shadow of war The greatest casualties are not just lives lost but futures erased. In rural Kashmir, over 60 per cent of schools lack reliable electricity or clean drinking water. A UNICEF report said that 70 per cent of children in the region show signs of psychological trauma. Curfews, lockdowns, and Internet blackouts have made learning episodic and livelihoods impossible. Media narratives from New Delhi or Islamabad rarely capture these subtleties. Instead, Kashmir is reduced to two binaries: security and sedition. The lived experiences of farmers unable to sell fruit owing to blockades or schoolgirls whose teachers have fled for safer jobs are ignored. These human costs are not collateral damage—they are the central plot. Colonial playbook Both India and Pakistan emerged from the crucible of anti-colonial struggle. Yet both have internalised and intensified the colonial playbook. Surveillance, sedition laws, mass incarceration, and enforced disappearances are mechanisms inherited from imperial administrators. As the philosopher Giorgio Agamben warned, we now live in a permanent 'state of exception', a place where constitutional rights are suspended indefinitely in the name of security. The Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act in India and Pakistan's draconian anti-terror legislation have normalised impunity. Soldiers shoot without consequence. Homes are raided without warrants. Dissenters vanish without trial. In this zone of lawless legality, human rights are not protected—they are strategically erased. Kashmir is not just a case of state control; it is a laboratory of 'necropolitics', a term coined by the philosopher Achille Mbembe. In necropolitical regimes, power is exercised not just by preserving life but by deciding who may die, and how. The border, once a demarcation, becomes a weapon; the checkpoint, a ritual of humiliation. The violence is intersectional. In India, Dalit and tribal soldiers, drawn disproportionately from marginalised communities, are sent to patrol territories where they are simultaneously feared and expendable. In Pakistan, it is young, jobless Pashtuns who are conscripted into the line of fire. This is a shared tragedy: militarism consuming the poor to defend the illusions of the powerful. Kashmir's suffering Arms dealers from the US, Israel, Russia, China, and Türkiye profit from the suffering in Kashmir. Between 2020 and 2024, both India and Pakistan ranked among the top five arms importers in the world. Surveillance systems, anti-riot gear, and sniper rifles are marketed not only for defence but for suppression. The global military-industrial complex has no morality—only contracts. International institutions offer rhetoric but little resolve. The UN and the World Bank note rising instability in South Asia, yet the economic interests of weapons-producing states outweigh the calls for justice. This is neoliberal militarism at its most insidious: state violence funded by international finance, legitimated by silence. If there is to be a future for Kashmir—and for South Asia at large—it must begin with moral clarity and policy courage. What India, Pakistan must do First, India and Pakistan must urgently recalibrate their defence priorities. Diverting even 20 per cent of military expenditure toward healthcare and education could end child malnutrition in India and rebuild Pakistan's crumbling schools. Second, an international embargo on Kashmir-bound weaponry must be seriously considered. Countries that arm governments to suppress citizens must be held accountable. No peace is possible with rifles aimed at classrooms. Third, a credible peace process must centre not just the states but the people. Kashmiris—Muslim, Pandit, Sikh—must be at the table. Political resolution cannot be achieved through nationalist tokenism or bureaucratic decrees. It demands listening to those who have borne the weight of war, curfew, and betrayal. Also Read | Fragile peace, persistent tensions, and the limits of diplomacy Arundhati Roy once distilled the region's tragedy into a single line: Kashmir remains the subcontinent's most haunting remnant of Partition. But in truth, it is also the unfinished dream of postcolonial dignity. We must continue to believe that Kashmir, a region rich in culture and history, can rise above the barbed wire and gunfire to embrace freedom, equality, and justice. The ghosts of the Valley are not silent. They are asking the subcontinent, what kind of nations do you wish to be? Militarised shells ruled by fear or plural democracies animated by hope? The answer may determine not just Kashmir's fate but the moral soul of South Asia itself. Debashis Chakrabarti is a political columnist and Commonwealth Fellow, UK.
Mail & Guardian
30-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Mail & Guardian
Sex, politics and very little else: A look at The Sweetest Taboo
An explicit, ambitious debut novel that delivers on sensuality but struggles to balance story, substance and seduction Right off the bat, let me say the following. This one was tough for me. Like many men of my generation, my relationship with the erotic arts and entertainment is, well, complicated. I grew up in a time where such things had just started to become widespread and easily available, and I think this is a fairly unique place to be, historically. People in the generations before me either had to go to great lengths to get their hands on any form of eroticism, or had no access to it at all. This goes double because I grew up in apartheid-era South Africa and our country's calvinistic and backward stance on sexuality and sexual materials had to be seen to be believed. Conversely, people in the generations after me have the internet, where any form of eroticism is literally at your fingertips, merely a search away, and so many of the previous dubious feelings towards it have begun to evaporate. Now, let's just make it clear, I am extremely pro-sex and pro-sensuality and I believe that a healthy expression of those two things is core to any person's psychological make-up. I also used to think I was very libertine in that there was very little in the way of such things that could shock or even surprise me. What I have subsequently discovered is that I am very libertine for my generation. There are things that the world has subsequently conceived that I will admit have occasionally had me muttering, 'What the tin-plated fuck is going on here?' But my stance remains now what it always was — as long as everyone involved is consenting, and no one involved is getting hurt — unless they want to be, feel free to go nuts. But I also have this weird thing where I feel as if there can be too much sex in a given situation. Don't get me wrong, I am the guy in my circle of friends who has a 'nudge nudge, wink wink' comment for almost every occasion,but I have also learned through bitter experience that there is a time and a place for everything. I also detest it when eroticism devolves beyond a certain level of explicitness into pure smut. Pornography is one thing — you engage it with a certain expectation. No one reading pornographic books or magazines is expecting Noam Chomsky's treatise on Universal Grammar. No one viewing a pornographic movie is expecting a performance from anyone involved that rivals Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood. It is what it is and it exists to do what it exists to do. But when something bills itself as art but is executed as something you'd find behind a paywall on a website that you would rather delete from your search history, it infuriates me. Just call it what it is and move on. We're all grown-ups here. I mention this because I need to explain it before I launch into the paroxysm of contradictory emotions Rams Mabote's first novel The Sweetest Taboo has thrown me into. Rams Mabote is a respected veteran of South African journalism. He is, by all accounts, a witty and educated man, with strong, balanced and well-thought-out viewpoints on a variety of topics. He is a shark in a pool full of minnows. And he has chosen to debut his first work of fiction in the realm of the erotic. The book proudly bills itself as a South African Fifty Shades of Grey and boasts a symbol on the cover warning about sex, nudity and language. (I confess, I chuckled at the warning of 'nudity' on the cover of a book that has no pictures in it.) The blurb is also very careful to mention just how much sex you're about to get yourself into, buddy. I can confirm all of this is well-earned. The book is positively brimming with sex scenes, like Jilly Cooper or Elizabeth Gage on testosterone supplements. (I apologise for the dated reference but I've told you guys before — I'm old) They are as explicit as advertised, and if Mr Mabote conducts himself with real-life partners as his fictional protagonist Morati Sello does with the unending parade of willing women who cross paths with him, then kudos is in order. He could teach Don Juan deMarco a thing or three. But outside of that — I don't know. The blurb also promises the sex is as hot and wild as the politics and I would like to understand that statement better. The book takes place in 2008 and Morati is an envoy sent to Australia by the ruling party to learn about banking. But other than that — a few cursory mentions of the South African political situation in 2008 and the three-headed news juggernaut of Mbeki, Zuma and Malema and a slightly long-winded explanation of the famous 'apology' by Australian prime minister Kevin Rudd to the indigenous peoples of Australia — politics is more or less absent. I might be missing the point. This book might entirely be about the very, very explicit male sexual wish fulfilment it centres around, and if that's the case, fine. It is what it says on the packaging and delivers in spades. But if it's not, then it's lacking. The interstitial scenes serve merely as filler to get us from one unbelievably adventurous sexual encounter to another. I would say the dialogue is expositional, but there's no plot to expose, other than, 'All hail Morati, the sexual god!' Much is made of the book's humour, but it fell flat with me, although I do acknowledge that I am probably not the target audience. All in all, if you're a (specifically male) person who needs a spicy read to brighten up a dreary work night, you could do worse than this book. But do engage it on its own terms.
Observer
09-04-2025
- Politics
- Observer
The world on edge: The rise of extremism
What can we learn from the political and military confrontations shaping our world today? At the core of every conflict lies a contradiction, a clash. But why do these contradictions so often escalate into extreme confrontations instead of being resolved through natural dialogue or compromise? Has extremism become the language of our time? The modern world appears increasingly primed for various shades of extremism—each one sparking a reactionary counterpart. Across continents, we are witnessing the rise of extreme political rhetoric, now turned into electoral strategies that propel candidates to power. Once unimaginable, far-right movements and ideologies, thought to be defeated after World War II, are gaining ground again. Their rise begs the question: how did we return here? A key turning point may have been the US-led 'War on Terror' in the early 2000s. Meant to eliminate extremism, it arguably did the opposite. Instead of defeating terrorism, it multiplied its forms. The invasion of Iraq, in particular, created fertile ground for extremist groups, who then spread across the region. These wars, launched under the guise of fighting terror, inadvertently legitimised extremism while destabilising entire nations. Noam Chomsky warned of this in 2001, predicting that the world was entering an era of terrorism. That prediction proved chillingly accurate. Waves of bombings and violence have swept through both Western and Arab cities, pushing societies toward polarisation and legitimising reactionary extremism in the name of security and nationalism. The world has become a battleground in the eyes of extremists, where people are either "with us" or "against us." This binary mindset fuels endless cycles of violence, driven by hate and justified through twisted logic. Extremism offers its followers a dangerous illusion of legitimacy—encouraging destruction, revenge, and the demonisation of the other. It thrives by provoking its counterparts into action, thereby creating a loop of mutual annihilation. Yet extremism doesn't stem from ordinary people. It is imposed—by regimes, by elites, by those seeking power and dominance. It forces people into impossible choices: either be the killer or be the killed. In the process, entire countries are devastated, urban life collapses, and natural human instincts toward peace are manipulated and redirected toward war. Extremism sells war as a path to glory, but in truth, it is a mechanism for theft—of resources, land, heritage. It is not victory; it is a violation masked as a right. Nothing inflames extremism like the outbreak of war, which ignites fear and violence even in the hearts of the moderate. Extremists capitalise on war to pull everyone into battle, leaving only two options: fight or surrender with humiliation. And yet, extremists are rarely aware of their blindness. Too consumed by their own battles, they fail to see how they are being used. Their obsession with fire and fury makes them ideal tools for those who know how to exploit chaos. In today's digital age, extremism has even become a commodity—a tool for manipulation by those who control the technology and algorithms behind the screens. It is marketed, distributed, and embedded in the very devices we carry. In this world of algorithms and anger, extremism isn't just a threat—it's a product. It promises purpose but delivers destruction. It is, as always, a path not to victory, but to ruin. Translated by Badr al Dhafari The original version of this article was published in Oman Arabic newspaper on April 06, 2025.
Yahoo
09-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Commentary: Scholars failed to tell the truth about the genocidal Khmer Rouge
People who start their regime by vacating a capital city probably have some disturbing plans. Fifty years ago, in April 1975, the Khmer Rouge forcibly evacuated all residents (including bedridden hospital patients) of Phnom Penh, Cambodia, and all other sizable population centers. Those who survived the evacuation were sent to do agrarian work at labor camps in rural areas. This unusual and alarming development elicited a very strange reaction, though, from relevant scholars in such countries as the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia, France and Sweden, which seemed to think the forcible relocation was a positive step forward. In ensuing months, emaciated Cambodian refugees began to surface at the border with Thailand. These refugees largely gave reports of forced labor, starvation and appalling savagery. And yet positive views of the Khmer Rouge remained prevalent among Western scholars who — embracing revolution from thousands of miles away — dismissed the myriad Cambodian refugee reports and pounced on anyone who wrote stories that corresponded with refugee accounts. Cambodia, also known in that period by the euphemistic name Democratic Kampuchea, had basically ended all contact with the outside world. But it might have been fruitful to visit the Thai side of the Cambodian border, where thousands of emaciated and traumatized refugees had gathered. This type of setting could have helped even the most intransigent of scholars realize that reports of Khmer Rouge atrocities likely had validity. Among those who took up the cause of minimizing Khmer Rouge misdeeds was Massachusetts Institute of Technology linguist and all-around guru Noam Chomsky, who contended that reports of atrocity were part of a 'vast and unprecedented propaganda campaign' perpetrated by Western media. Though Chomsky was the most prominent Khmer Rouge apologist, he was by no means the only significant one. Far from being the pursuit of a kooky fringe, the defense of the Khmer Rouge came to represent a mainstream view among relevant scholars. This viewpoint was so prevalent in the West that it was labeled the 'standard total academic view' (STAV) on Cambodia by Sophal Ear, a Cambodian refugee who became a political scientist in the U.S. and is now an associate professor in the Thunderbird School of Global Management at Arizona State University. 'Many academics indeed treated Cambodia as a testing ground for their theories,' Ear said. He said they were also enamored with the concept of peasant revolutions and the Khmer Rouge policies of self-reliance, which they viewed as 'an authentic anti-colonial stance.' Additionally, it was feared that acknowledgment of Khmer Rouge atrocities would validate the U.S. military endeavors in Indochina, which many people — especially leading scholars — had come to excoriate. In their 1976 book 'Cambodia: Starvation and Revolution,' co-authors George C. Hildebrand and Gareth Porter stated, 'Cambodia is only the latest victim of the enforcement of an ideology that demands that social revolutions be portrayed as negatively as possible.' But perhaps no one was drawn to Pol Pot as much as Scottish scholar Malcolm Caldwell. Caldwell had written that the Khmer Rouge revolution 'opens vistas of hope not only for the people of Cambodia but also for the peoples of all other poor third world countries.' Caldwell received a rare invite to visit the utopia and even scored a private meeting with Pol Pot on Dec. 22, 1978. But hanging out with 'Brother Number One' was always rather risky, and later that night, the visiting scholar was gunned down. It is likely this case would have received more interest from Western media, but less than three days after Caldwell's murder, Vietnam invaded Cambodia. The Vietnamese were fed up by that point: In addition to committing a genocide against Cambodians of Vietnamese ancestry, the Khmer Rouge had launched repeated attacks on Vietnamese soil, including the massacre of an entire village. Vietnam's military was superior in size, organization and morale. Troops easily invaded Phnom Penh, causing high-ranking Khmer Rouge to flee to western Cambodia's mountainous terrain along the Thai border. With Cambodia's door forcibly opened, the ensuing revelations of killing fields and grisly interrogation centers was about as close as you can get to incontrovertible proof of widespread atrocity. Among Western scholars, some former supporters emerged to recant their previous statements. Other supporters quietly withdrew from the now-obvious horror they had spent several years denying. However, some scholars remained as unrepentant as the war criminals, unmoved by any amount of ghastly hard evidence, or at least not sufficiently moved to forsake the revolution. 'Saying, 'I'm sorry, I was wrong,' is just too much for some people,' Ear said. 'They want to be correct in their minds, always.' Even in 1981, after the consequences became grotesquely clear, Egyptian-French scholar Samir Amin described the Khmer Rouge period as 'one of the major successes of the struggle for socialism in our era.' Not only did Amin express approval for what happened in Cambodia, but he also recommended that African nations adopt the Khmer Rouge model. As if Africa had not endured enough, what it really needed, according to Amin, was its own Khmer Rouge. Meanwhile, the real Khmer Rouge was not dead yet. Although forced out of Phnom Penh very quickly, the group still controlled much of Cambodia, particularly in the geographically rugged western part of the country. Along with holding significant military resources, the Khmer Rouge enjoyed a degree of international legitimacy: Into the early 1990s, the party of Pol Pot managed to hold Cambodia's seat at the United Nations. Moreover, many Cambodians thought the Khmer Rouge was going to make a comeback in the 1990s, regain control of the country and repeat the nightmare. Ear said, 'This fear persisted until the Khmer Rouge's final dissolution,' which did not occur until the end of the millennium. Now 50 years since the invasion, both the Khmer Rouge and their Western apologists serve as a cautionary tale of the depths to which people can sink for their ideals. ____ Ray Cavanaugh is a freelance writer with an interest in Cambodian history. ___
