Day 7 - Mark (Breaking Fast)

The liquid fast has not been as difficult as I expected - I had less energy and felt hungry occasionally, but I think the body gets used to this kind of thing quickly. It definitely helped me keep Bahrain in my mind on a regular basis and compelled me to talk about the situation to other people. I met some people in the U.S. who are interested in meeting to talk more about solidarity with Bahrainis and I also connected with people at the Bahrain Center for Human Rights.

Nikki and I were talking about the idea of fasting as a form of solidarity or resistance, depending on the situation. I suggested that we might use the money we save to donate to the cause we're concerned for. This would work particularly well with an activity that she's done in the past, which is to eat for a dollar a day to see what it's like in some impoverished places. But again, there are so many programs to support and so many people asking for donations - I now put a lot more value into connecting personally to the people involved. I'm in discussion with some people in Bahrain about connecting over the internet to have discussions about how we can support their cause. If anyone is interested or has ideas of how to do this more effectively, let me know.

And of course, if anyone wants to join this fast or help out in other ways I strongly encourage you!

Day 7: Nikki--Endgame.

Not eating (though I was drinking juice and milks) while focusing on Bahrain during these last 7 days somehow made me feel more conscious of what I was doing and my goals, which were to focus more on Bahrain, and to try to talk to other people about the current issue. I feel like I could have devoted a week to doing that without fasting, but it might have been less of a conscious act without that low-level hunger reminding me of this choice that I made. My hunger consumed me, in a sense, and it wasn't really even hunger, because once you get used to that it is fleeting. It was more a slight lethargy, slight fogginess, combined with a slight starvation that was a basically a constant presence. It was difficult to ignore, and thus the situation in Bahrain became difficult to ignore--which is frankly something I feel good about. I ignore tons of human rights issues every day while I focus on others, or on myself, or on what I am going to cook for dinner, and I like how the physical consequences of fasting disallowed me from ignoring what's happening in Bahrain right now.

I also felt more aware of my emotional states, and less able to numb myself from unpleasant emotions. After Mark posted a translation of that terrible news story, I remember reading the words "condolences to the family of the deceased infant" and basically instantly weeping. I wonder if I would have blocked out that reaction, and gone on with the day, if slight starvation wasn't holding me in a somewhat raw state.

On a personal level it was also a neat exercise. I stopped eating meat in high school because I was interested in altering what I consumed to see how it affected how I felt (and how I performed, as a runner). I was personally intrigued by the idea of this hunger chain for the same reason, though I certainly abstained from running while I myself was 'running' on empty.

This week also made me feel pretty committed to the outcome in Bahrain. I have two friends who are considering taking a week in the Chain, and I had numerous conversations with sympathetic ears of people who will probably end up calling their senators about the arms deal. It was interesting to watch myself develop a relationship with a country, and some of its people, by engaging in something like this. I've never been to Bahrain and I don't speak the language there, yet I now somehow feel connected to it, and invested in the outcome of the Bahraini Spring.

Day 6: Nikki-- Political Engagement.

I really agree with Mark about personal connections.

I have a lot of friends (and family) who are basically asking me if I really think that fasting for Bahrain is going to do anything?

I've answered in the same way each time: well, I am not sure, but I do hope so, and to be honest, a friend who I recently made and have totally fallen in friend-love with (Fatima), asked me to do it and so I needed to.

When it's about connecting with others, it becomes two-sided and I am allowed to benefit as well, and I like that. The conversations I've had over this week have been so enriching for me, building friendships that I will hold onto. I think human rights issues get called "causes" sometimes in a way that makes protestors or activists seem selfless, even holders of a higher moral ground. And I think this really turns people away from political activism, even urges them to criticize it. ("The same protestors on Wall St. are holding iPods...")

When I was talking with my cousin--a high-powered businesswoman--about the Occupy movement, her comment was: Nikki, do you know how many people at Goldman & Sachs would be open to a discussion about more fairly distributing wealth? You just need to reach out to them and make a clear statement, not go occupy Wall St, what does that even mean?

Furthermore--and I've seen this in the DRC--activism can go awry when you do not connect with people on the ground. I have heard many misrepresentations about the story in Congo from people whose voices are often valued sources on the matter--actors, politicians, and politicians’ spouses--which can lead to legislation like the Dodd-Frank Act in the DRC. This act was meant to make deals between miners, smelters and electronic companies sourcing minerals more transparent. But much of the criticism shows Congolese voices that say the Act ended up hurting them.

The Pole Institute, a Congolese think-tank based in Goma, put out a statement which is exactly in line with what people in Congo have told me about this issue. They basically say, thanks for the Act, it was a good idea, but this amounts to an embargo, given all the rules the Act has set up.

I've also talked with both Congolese miners and Mining Co. Big Whigs in eastern DRC who feel certain, more than just hurting the economy by acting like an embargo, this Act brought more conflict because it put selling power in the hands of artisanal miners, who are more likely and able to work with the more violent militias--which they have historically done.

It seems like this Act, which was such a good idea, such a wonderful way of trying to harness the positive potential in US foreign policy, could have benefited from a couple of conversations with local Congolese folks.

When I spoke with local miners this summer (in 3 different mining regions), most of them said they weren't consulted about the matter. I found two people in all who said they remember researchers coming through, but that they were operating solely in French and therefore couldn't communicate with really anyone.

The politicians behind the Act came to Goma this summer and I had a chance to meet with them. When I voiced some concern over the human consequences, they scoffed at me with a don't you think this was better than nothing, Ms. D'Errico?

I am not sure I do.

So while this sounds like a giant rant, I don't mean it to. I actually think it's quite exciting that there are politicians thinking about how their securities and exchange acts could affect countries in conflict. And I actually think the solution here--the theme of today's posts--is personal connections. Those are free! And easy to acquire, if you just ask :) How wonderful!

Day 6 - Mark (Being Politically Engaged)

I was reminded this morning of how we take our freedom for granted in the U.S. when I read the following tweet:

marhoon Husain Marhoon

نشطاء"وول ستريت"يغلقون موانئ الساحل الغربي للولايات المتحدة من كاليفورنيا إلى ألاسكا. خمّن نوعية التهم لو أن ذلك حصل في البحرين! #bahrain

"Wall Street Protestors close down Port Authority in the western United States from California to Alaska. Imagine the accusations if that happened in Bahrain."

This is a simple but powerful statement. Maybe it's a joke, maybe it's a complaint, maybe just an expression of frustration. But people in the Arab world are acutely aware of how valuable the freedom of expression and the ability to criticize your government are. Many of them are giving are giving their lives for it (more than 5,000 in Syria this year). I've heard people make open calls for Americans to protest or put other forms of pressure on our government on the behalf of the Arab spring. For example, nobel prize laureate Tawakkul Karman called on Americans to join her in a protest outside of the UN to demand President Saleh's resignation.

But not everyone has time for this sort of activity, so how else might we stay informed and express solidarity? My opinion is constantly evolving, but lately I feel that personal connections are the most important foundation for real solidarity. I think that most people living abroad would be more than happy to talk about their difficulties and explain how Americans can help. Not only are we able to vote in (relatively) free and fair elections, but we can make calls and even visit our representatives to talk to them in person. I would be the first one to argue that our political system needs a total overhaul, but in the meantime it would be naive for us not to express our discontent to people who are willing to listen. I'm always open to discussion on this point, though, because I know people who have been trying that method for a long time and feel that there is little hope of internal reform except when big money doesn't get in the way.

One very important way we can offer help is by supporting small businesses abroad, especially in places facing political instability. Nikki has purses for sale made by Congolese women, all profits going directly to the person who made it. Egypt, for example, is facing serious economic trouble, especially as tourism has decreased, so it will be important for us to search for ways to support small businesses, and ideally to connect with them personally in the process. If anyone is interested in that sort of thing, let us know!

Death of Infant

There have been lots of tweets and a few articles about an infant that died after exposure to tear gas in Bahrain this weekend. I'm sure this will be controversial, but here is a translation of one article I received, which also has more details than others. I'm not clear on all of the medical terminology, but this is seems to be strong evidence that the death is linked to tear gas:

"The Administrative Director of Public and International Relations in the Ministry of Health made an announcement about the 4-day old infant named Sajdah, who died Saturday, December 10, 2011 in the Salmaniya Medical Center. The medical report indicated that the cause of death was acute poisoning of the blood and septic shock due to bacterial poisoning in the blood. The Ministry of Health expressed its deepest condolences to the family of the deceased infant. We ask the Magnificent and Lofty God to protect her with his vast mercy and to inspire them with patience and solace."

Day 5: Nikki--Reflecting on the DR Congo

W A R N I N G : The lack of caloric energy going to my brain may be responsible for an absence of clarity, organization, and/or grammatical correctness in this post.

When I first met Fatima and another Bahraini woman about six weeks ago, during a few points in their narration of the events in Bahrain, I remember thinking: one could trade out Bahrain for DR Congo (DRC) and be telling the same story.

This is not to say there is a Congolese Spring going on, nor is it to deny the innumerable and important differences between the two countries, and the conflicts within them. But seeing the parallel issues in the two stories made me feel hopeful that potentially understanding political afflictions in one location may shed light on another. Then perhaps levers of change might be similar, even recyclable.

So here are some thoughts:

In both Bahrain and the DR Congo, identity (ethnic or religious) has been mobilized by government figures for the sake of dividing the populace. A non-unified populace is far less likely to organize to in opposition against their government. The time that could be doing that will instead be spent thinking about their hatred of the other group.

The few Bahrainis I have spoken with about this issue said that the distinction between Shia and Sunni has not always been important to the average Bahraini. They expressed the opinion that this religious difference has been mobilized at politically opportune times by their government, for the purpose of keeping the populace divided.

The same argument has been made about ethnicity in the DR Congo. Some say that ethnicity was used as a tool of divisiveness as early as the colonial era, and that many subsequent leaders of the country followed in this tradition. Many people have expressed this view to me in the country, saying that politicians are very purposeful in choosing when and why to talk about ethnic differences.

Issues of nationality and citizenship of course get tied into this. In Bahrain, a woman who marries a man from Saudi Arabia cannot pass on her national identity to her kin. In the DRC, if you are from the Tutsi ethnic group, your nationality might depend on your ability to produce documents that your grandparents were born in the DRC. But that might change in the next political season, whereas you might only have to show that you were born in the DRC.

So the argument could be made that these differences only matter to certain people when they can benefit from them.

I've heard people in Africa say that language policy in post-colonial African states were used to unify (in the case of Tanzania, where Nyerere, the first president, united everyone by making Kiswahili the national language, which is still the language of government today) or to divide (in the case of the DRC, where a divided population was necessary for Mobutu to reign for 32 years, and there are several national languages, from several ethnic groups).

Lastly--and this one is so basic--when you can get so rich as a president, prime minister or king, you will not be quick to pass power to someone else. Furthermore, you might be willing to use any means necessary to hold onto power. Absolute power sure does corrupt absolutely and the well-being of citizens doesn't seem to matter to those trying at all costs to hold onto power.

So on a practical level, the fact that the Prime Minister of Bahrain bought the financial harbor area for $1, or the fact that Mobutu could decide whenever he wanted that the government could appropriate land for free, could be seen as valuable pieces of information to those making US foreign policy in these nations.

Day 5 - Mark (Reflecting on other international conflicts)

I explained earlier why I consider political oppression in Bahrain to be particularly relevant to U.S. foreign policy, which is also why I feel compelled to pressure our government on this issue. However, there are of course many other places in the world that are facing far more dire circumstances. More often than not, it's unclear to me what our government or non-governmental agencies should do.

For example, Somalia is still facing a famine, but the resistance group al-Shabaab has been blocking aid workers from delivering aid to certain regions. Is it almost impossible for aid workers to deliver food without foreign military intervention? Nikki could certainly comment on the situation in the Democratic Republic of Congo, where she has lived, but it seems clear that Congolese people are too concerned with basic health and safety issues to organize politically. In other Arab countries, the government oppression has been so fatal that protestors are afraid to be outside in large groups, which requires new forms of civil disobedience. In Syria, for example, someone has organized people to shut their shops as a form of resistance, which does not require anyone to be on the street for protests.

All of these issues have divisive political dimensions, but at the most basic level people are unified around the need for food and basic health services. Nikki discussed this in a previous post, and I think it's a great way to start a discussion about what we have to offer.

I also think it's worth distinguishing between the responsibility of the U.S. government on the one hand, and our responsibility as citizens. Our government often makes "diplomatic choices," such as Secretary Clinton's visit to Myanmar. Some people might argue that real change in Bahrain will be more likely if our government maintains diplomatic relations and is thus able to pressure them diplomatically. However, that's not a choice the typical American citizen has to make. Politicians are limited by what's "politically possible," while the role that social movements, protests and hunger strikes play is to change the discourse of what is possible.

That's why I think that pressure from U.S. citizens should not be limited by what is "diplomatic" or possible in the realm of real politics. The international solidarity movement is stronger now than it has ever been, in my opinion, and people notice when the American people criticize the hypocrisy of their own government. I often heard people in Egypt and Yemen tell me that they "love the American people, but hate the American government." It's worth thinking about what that really means. I used to use "we" when talking about U.S. foreign policy choices, as in "should we intervene in such and such country," but I've started to talk about what the U.S. government does apart from what "we" as Americans can do.