Comment: And the killer is…

This article first appeared on DhivehiSitee. Republished with permission.

The government knows who killed MP Afrasheem Ali.

The Minister of Home Affairs Mohamed Jameel Ahmed has appeared in the media twice in the last week to repeat the claim. Both times he stopped short of sharing the knowledge with the public.

The first time was on 24 November, when Haveeru reported Jameel as saying “MP Afrasheem’s murderer has been found”. The only thing he shared with reporters, however, was his incredulity that the murder had been premeditated in great detail. He observed gravely:

This is a matter of serious concern.

In another Haveeru piece, on the same subject the same day, Jameel also implied that the murder involved  politicians with money and violent gangs of disaffected youth, all with the potential to be hired hit men. Again, he chose not to reveal who was involved in the suggested assassination.

Although Jameel said the killer has been found but, according to Police Commissioner Abdulla Riyaz, the investigation is ongoing. He was on-message with Jameel, though, when it came to government policy for sharing information with the public:

…details will be revealed as soon as it is time to reveal them.

From the very beginning, the murder of MP Afrasheem has been more than about the murder of MP Afrasheem. Within hours, he was being eulogised as ‘one of the greatest scholars we have ever seen’. His funeral was a State sponsored spectacle, aired live on ‘TVM’. Afrasheem’s family was invited to the Majlis so he could be honoured and his beneficiaries financially compensated.

When investigations began, the FBI was reported to be helping. Until now, however, the only visible sign of FBI’s involvement has been a typical ‘information leading to the arrest’ reward worth MVR50,000.

This is not to say the FBI has not been of any use to the government. President Waheed is holding up FBI involvement as the reason people should believe in the impartiality of the investigation.

“When agencies like these are involved, you can be sure it’s all very professional,” he said recently. Good for Waheed that not many Maldivian government supporters have heard of General Petraeus, or of the FBI  and the Patriot Act.

With or without FBI help, the police took into custody six people in connection with the murder. Several were MDP activists. None of them have been charged, but their detention period continues to be extended every 15 days. Only one person arrested after the murder, Mariyam Naifa, was released. The police never gave a reason for her arrest, and imposed extra-legal conditions on several personal liberties before freeing her.

Then followed a period of almost complete silence about the murder. It was ‘broken’ in late October, with this  news briefing which revealed:

…200 items are being investigated in the forensic lab and more than 300 hours of CCTV footage have been collected as evidence.

Apart from this, the only things police could confirm with certainty were that Afrasheem had been murdered, and that the body was really Afrasheem’s.

The police also used the news conference to announce a change of approach to their investigations. Whereas previous cases had emphasised speed—as in lawyer Najeeb’s case—now the emphasis would be on caution. This was an emphatic sign that police were going to take their own sweet time telling the public what happened.

Then, on 11 November, former President Mohamed Nasheed very publicly criticised the investigation. MDP followed Nasheed’s speech with a request for a parliamentary review of the investigation. It was as if a sleeping dog had been kicked in the balls. Jameel quickly deviated from the official line of ‘this can take forever’ to declare ‘the killer has been found.’

This also when his press conferences began to sound like a promotional gig for a Hitchcock movie. He has since appeared several times to tell the public he knew, but was not telling, who killed Afrasheem.

This morning, Haveeru  ran a new update of the non-story. Jameel is very ‘disconcerted’ by former President Nasheed’s remarks that he thinks police are biding their time in order to pin the murder on an MDP member. Nasheed also said he suspects that ‘the right time’ will be as close to the by-election on 1 December to elect Afrasheem’s replacement as possible.

Jameel dismisses Nasheed’s accusations as dangerous impediments to justice. Here is in the words of Haveeru, what Jameel said next:

Jameel further added that the people of Ungoofaaru must secure Afrasheem’s seat in Parliament to a member of his party and described it as a duty of the Ungoofaaru constituency people.

Did he really say that it was ‘the duty’ of the people of Afrasheem’s constituency, his home island, to make sure PPM retained its seat? Straight after dismissing Nasheed’s allegations that he is attempting to influence the election?

As always, Haveeru lent support to the government line with an opinion piece asking people to see MDP’s accusation of bias in the investigation in the same light as their accusations of bias against CoNI. That is to say ‘baseless’.

This is part of the government’s plan all along to pre-empt any criticism of the results when they are finally rolled out. Waheed had begun preparing for just such an eventuality by referring to the FBI presence as ‘proof of integrity’. Any criticism of the investigation from now on could and would be labelled as ‘the unreasonableness of MDP.’

Whatever about the motive of Afrasheem’s killer, it has been clear from the beginning that it is politics dictating the official response to his killing.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Master or puppet?

This article first appeared on DhivehiSitee. Republished with permission.

The Maldives does not have a leader and is currently under the control of an unidentified shadowy ‘group of leaders’, according to… the President. It is an astonishing statement for any leader to make.

There is much to suggest Waheed is as helpless as implied by his public whingeing. He does not, for instance, seem to have any authority to keep his own house in order. There are several examples.

Very early on in his presidency Waheed’s Special Advisor Hassan Saeed was secretly recorded describing Waheed as: “politically the weakest person in the Maldives.”

In the United States, decorated Army General Stanely McChrystal had to resign after his aides were reported mocking Vice President Joe Biden. In the Maldives, Saeed, with his Jekyll and Hyde personality, remains in position.

Same with Abbas Adil Riza, the President’s Spokesperson. Riza’s ‘emotional outburst’ against the Indian High Commissioner left Waheed with diplomatic egg on his face. Yet, Riza remains authorised to speak for the President.

Would Waheed get rid of them if he had a choice? Judging from how quickly he fired his Transport Minister and Human Rights Minister, the answer is ‘yes.’ Abbas and Saeed made Waheed look an even bigger fool than did Shamheed and Dhiyana.

Waheed is a man particularly fond of his reputation. He recently wrote:

If he had a choice, it is unlikely Abbas and Saeed would ever be gainfully employed again, let alone be his closest aides.

When Waheed fired Shamheed and Jamsheed, supporters cheered the President’s ‘decisiveness’. But firing them exhausted the extent of Waheed’s authority. This is why: after February 7, like generals divvying up the spoils of a war, each party in the so-called Unity Government claimed for itself ‘slots’ in the Cabinet.

This dodgy power-sharing agreement is what has come to be known as the Coalition Government and appears to be the cabal of equal leaders Waheed was referring to.

Under the new system, cabinet portfolios can only be given to individuals nominated by a particular party. If a close aide or a cabinet minister offends the President beyond his tolerance, he is free to fire them (depending on which party’s nominee it is). But he cannot hire the replacement. Only Party Greats have the authority to do so.

Party Greats, the elected leaders and leading personalities of various parties in Waheed’s Unity Government, are also beyond Waheed’s influence. This applies regardless of how often they mock, patronise or harm Waheed’s presidency.

Among these petty generals, Sheikh Imran Abdulla stands out. Imran is currently heading one of the stupidest political campaigns in history—a ‘Jihad’ to take back the ‘Maldivian Airport for Maldivians’. For God’s sake.

Imran is the President of the Islamist Adhaalath Party and runs a lucrative Rent-a-Sheikh business. That is, in exchange for the right sort of political or financial returns, he agrees to bring his religious ideology to bear on whatever issue is causing headaches for his paymasters.

In the last two weeks, Imran has given the President not one but two ultimatums. Currently, the President has until the end of the month to fulfil Imran’s demands, or else.

Even under such circumstances, Waheed poses for pictures with leaders and nationalistic paraphernalia of Imran’s ‘Airport Jihadists’.

Hard to believe any President would willingly look such a fool.

Maldives Police Service also seems well beyond the reach of Waheed’s leadership. In the early hours of last Friday the 16th, it ran what has been named an  ‘Intel-led Drug Bust Operation’ resulting in the arrest of two MPs and several senior members of MDP. It involved scores of officers swimming onto a desert island in the dark to ambush the targets at a weekend getaway.

Police found a hefty stash of alcohol on the island, and kept the arrested in handcuffs for hours. Family members are alleging they were badly beaten up in custody.

Waheed appeared as ambushed by police behaviour as were the targets of their Operation. Commissioner of Police Riyaz Abdulla said:

Such operations are not carried out by Police after informing the President or the Home Minister. This institution does not have any political influence.

For a president with any real authority, there would have been at least a courtesy call from the police, not a flippant explanation like Riyaz’s.

Is the President a puppet? Not according to…the President. In the same letter cited above, he wrote:

Nasheed accuses me of being a puppet of the former President Maumoon Abdul Gayoom. This is an accusation I reject.

There is currently a no confidence motion pending against Waheed in the Parliament. Last monday, MPs were due to decide whether or not the impeachment vote could be kept secret. The general opinion seems to be that if MPs are allowed to vote secretly, they will choose to get rid of Waheed.

MPs were ambushed in Operation Alcohol just two days before the vote. With the desert island debacle still fresh in everybody’s minds, the motion to put the impeachment to a secret vote failed narrowly.

The Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU) has said it is difficult not to see the arrests as politically motivated. It really does not take a conspiracy theorist to link the arrests with the no confidence motion.

If Waheed is pulling the strings, then he ordered the arrests. And, if the arrested MPs’ families are telling the truth, he also ordered them humiliated, intimidated and beaten up. No puppet can pull strings like that.

There are more ways to see Waheed than suggested by Waheed. He is neither puppet no master but the curtain behind which the show was planned. He was the fig-leaf that gave the appearance of legitimacy to a coup. In return for ‘ascendency to the Presidency’, Waheed promised he will not resign until 2013, not matter what. Even if it means looking like a right puppet.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Maldivian faith to Maldivians

This article first appeared on DhivehiSitee. Republished with permission.

Political prostitutes who pose as religious scholars and sell their Islamic learning to the highest bidder have become some of the biggest contributors to the current socio-political and economic turmoil in the Maldives.

Chief among them is Sheikh Imran Abdulla, current president of Adhaalath Party – an organisation which uses the religion of Islam as its chief recruitment and fundraising tool, and proudly exploits people’s faith for political purposes.

Sheikh Imran Abdulla was one of the chief choreographers of the Islamists’ role in the downfall of the Maldivian democracy. On 2 February 2012, he issued an ultimatum to the then President Mohamed Nasheed: resign within five days or be forced out of office.

Nasheed was forced to resign on 7 February.

Yesterday, Sheikh Imran, now a chief mover and shaker in the current ‘Coalition Government’ issued another ultimatum. This time to the government he helped put in place: get out of the 25-year contract with India’s GMR Group for upgrading and running the Ibrahim Nasir International Airport within six days (by 15 November), or else.

He issued the ultimatum at a public rally widely believed to be funded by rich tourism tycoons, currently openly fighting over the country’s airports, and who have vested interests in getting GMR out.

The rally was a colourful affair, aimed chiefly at rousing the masses into a fervour by making the GMR issue into a religious one. The aim, it appears, is to incite enough public discontent to pressure the government into reneging on its agreement with GMR.

Ahead of the rally, held at the Artificial Beach in Male’, leaflets were distributed all over the island, encouraging people to attend the rally in the name of Islam, to save the Maldivian airport from foreign ‘economic invaders’ of ‘other religions’.

Songs were played on loudspeakers attached to pick-up trucks that went round and round the island, stopping at mosques after Friday prayers for maximum effect.

One of the songs has the title—Maldivians’ Prayer: Maldivian airport to Maldivians. Another is called simply Maldivian Airport to Maldivians. The latter raises the volume on nationalism and the former suggests ending the agreement with GMR is a religious duty of Maldivians.

Here’s some of the lyrics from Maldivians’ Prayer:

You get the picture.

The rally was not as big as the Mother of All Rallies, or the so-called Mahaasinthaa, held on 23 December 2011 to ‘Defend Islam’ by removing President Nasheed from office and endorsing his then Vice President Dr Waheed as his replacement.

But there was still a sizeable crowd of hundreds gathered around the nationalistic/religious banners.

Sheikh Imran told them it was their religious duty to deliver the airport from India’s GMR. Men and women (strange this, given that Imran has repeatedly stated that women should stay home and breed instead of joining political rallies) stayed listening to Sheikh Imran and his fellow Islam-sellers long after midnight and in the pouring rain.

Before ending the rally for the night, another ‘scholar’ led a prayer calling on Allah to bring his wrath upon GMR and cause it great destruction.

Such rhetoric not only fools a lot of people into accepting this economic/political issue as a religious matter, it also helps increase the intolerance and xenophobia which have become defining characteristics of the Maldivian society today, thanks mainly to the religion-political-tourism industry complex that now reigns supreme over Maldivian affairs.

Moreover, as former Maldivian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom Farah Faizal quickly highlighted, turning the issue into a religious one also has the potential to make life very difficult for the tens of thousands of Maldivian immigrants in India by creating tensions between them and the largely Hindu majority Indian population.

The rising radicalisation of Maldivians has been a cause for concern in India for several years, and it is well-known that a Maldivian was involved in the Mumbai attacks of 2008, as is the fact that the terrorist organisation Lashkar e Taiba has beenoperating and recruiting in the Maldives.

Young disaffected Maldivians are many, and most are highly vulnerable to ideological indoctrination by individuals who propagate extremist ideologies.

Sadly, many do not see beyond ‘The Scholar’ façade behind which these individuals operate. Tens of thousands remain incapable of looking further than the carefully cultivated beards, or the Pashtun garb—no more Islamic or Maldivian than GMR itself.

Hundreds everyday accept these individuals as devout religious scholars and remain blind to how they turn Islamic teachings into a commodity that can be bought and sold to equally unscrupulous businessmen/politicians.

It is these individuals, worked into a frenzy by individuals like Sheikh Imran, who have travelled abroad to kill themselves and others in the name of Islam.

Several government officials were at yesterday’s rally, including the President’s Spokesperson Abbas Adil Riza. Riza loudly accused Indian High Commissioner to the Maldives D.M. Mullay—a key figure behind India’s quick acceptance of Dr Waheed’s government as legitimate—of taking bribes to ensure GMR was awarded the Maldives airport contract.

Here’s Dr Waheed’s spokesperson Abbas Riza at the rally:

But, as is now coming to be expected, the government has stayed wholly silent on the rampant exploitation of religion for political purposes, further reinforcing the perception that it is complicit in this phenomenon and condone it as a valid political strategy.

It is still silent, for instance, on the Salafists’ call last week to have Maldivian girls declared women at puberty. A children’s Afternoon with Ali Rameez remains scheduled to go ahead on 15 November as planned, despite the fact that Ali Rameez is the man leading the call to end girl-childhood at puberty.

And, as we shall see on 15 November (also the date of the GMR ultimatum), there will be many parents who would take their children to this pop-singer turned ultra-religious conservative without pausing to think about what they are doing.

These people will represent the thousands of Maldivians who have already bought into the dogma, among others, that it is their religious duty to have their girl-children married off at puberty to men old enough to be their grandfathers.

The official silence over ‘religious scholars’ and their exploitation of Islam to suit various socio-political and economic purposes must end. Such voices must be strongly countered and condemned.

The long term consequences of their actions will not be seen only in the political economy, but in the Maldivian identity itself which has already changed so drastically in the last decade as to be unrecognisable.

From a laid-back island community of moderate and tolerant Muslims whose relationship with God was their personal affair, Maldives has become a highly radical and tense society in which a large percentage of the population is bigoted, intolerant and xenophobic.

Among them will be the few who will join the violent militants.

What is of equally great concern are the tens of thousands of Maldivians who fail to see these political prostitutes for what they are, and willingly give up their own human rights and dignity and deny others theirs in the name of Islam.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Extremism affecting the daily lives of every Maldivian

This article originally appeared on DhivehiSitee. Republished with permission.

Islamic extremism is very real in the Maldives. It affects the daily lives of every Maldivian, and is gaining in scope, intensity and violence every day with the pseudo-democratic government that came to power on 7 February.

This is not to say that Islamic extremism did not exist during the three short years in which the Maldives was a democracy. On the contrary, it was during democratic rule that extremism gained its strongest foothold in Maldivian society.  It is a myth that democracy is an antidote to extremism, as is widely proposed in much of the existing anti-radicalisation literature. Democracy, with its many freedoms, provides a much more conducive environment for radicalisation than does an authoritarian regime, as has been seen in the Maldives.

When Islamic extremism began to be imported into the Maldives in the late 1990s with the advent of the so-called international ‘religious terrorism’; and when the export of extremist ideologies intensified globally with the War on Terror, the Maldives was under the dictatorial regime of Maumoon Abdul Gayoom.

Although in recent times Gayoom has aligned himself with the ideologies of the hardline Islamist Adhaalath Party, during his rule, he presented himself as a moderate Muslim who believed in freedom of religion and advocated religious pluralism in the Maldives.

What he did not tolerate was extremist ideologies spread in the name of Islam. His methods of suppressing such beliefs – imprisonment and torture – cannot be condoned, nor are they compatible with the values of democracy. It cannot be denied, however, that they held Islamic extremism in check in the Maldives for over a decade.

The transition to democracy in November 2008 opened the door for Maldivian Islamists to push their agenda forward.

A confluence of events had helped them consolidate support even under Gayoom’s repressive policies: the 2004 tsunami which literally put the fear of God into many a Maldivian living on remote islands, and which the Islamists exploited as a means of spreading their ideology by depicting it as punishment from God for man’s ungodliness; and the War on Terror, which was used by Islamist states and movements to intensify their efforts to fund and spread their ideology to Muslim populations across the world.

Despite a tourism industry worth billions of dollars, three decades of authoritarian rule in the Maldives left behind a population that was mostly on the poverty line, had extremely low levels of education, and contained tens of thousands of disaffected youth with few prospects for social mobility or economic success. All are factors that have been shown to facilitate the spread of extremist ideologies.

Added to this was the supposedly inescapable need for the newly democratic government to form a political alliance with the Islamists, and a democratic president who believed in freedom of expression in absolutist terms, and who failed to fully appreciate that such freedoms are not always exercised with responsibility by those who enjoy them.

While during the War on Terror most democratic governments everywhere sought to find a balance between freedom of expression and the need to curb incitement to violence in the name of religion, under Mohamed Nasheed’s government Maldivian extremists enjoyed absolute freedom of expression.

Bookshops came to be laden with publications that spread their teachings; their message was constantly transmitted in mosques, on air, and on the Internet. The success of their efforts are now there for all to see.

Of course, under Nasheed’s government it was not just the extremists who had the freedom to express their views. Those who disagreed with their ideology, too, enjoyed the same freedom. This was, in fact, Nasheed’s strategy and hope: that the civil society would counter extremism without requiring any intervention from the government.

It was a huge mistake. The civil society was not strong enough to take on the Islamists, especially in the face of the institutional support that the Islamists enjoyed under the MDP (Maldivian Democratic Party) government with its politically expedient alliance with the Islamist Adhaalath Party. Nasheed also underestimated the power of the label of ‘un-Islamic’ or anti-Islam as a tool for suppressing dissent.

The fight against extremists was thus left to individuals who worked alone or in very small groups. Their discourse was easily slapped down and condemned by the extremists using the ‘anti-Islam/un-Islamic/heretic’ label. As it turned out, this label was also the most powerful tool used against Nasheed himself to help facilitate the downfall of the MDP government, demonstrating just how much power such a designation wields in a rapidly radicalising society.

Despite the knowledge that Nasheed was a firm believer in freedom of expression, few dared to take on the extremists openly then, or now. When they did, the MDP government utterly failed to support them. The lack of any assistance or support for Mohamed Nazim, who in May 2010 dared to publicly declare his disbelief in Islam, and of Ismail Mohamed Didi in July 2010 who felt persecuted for his lack of belief and committed suicide at the age of 25, brought into sharp relief the absence of any serious commitment by the MDP government to fighting extremism.

Instead of tackling the oppression that the Islamists were imposing on Maldivians, the MDP – beleaguered by continuous authoritarian attempts at a reversal – often chose to ignore the problem, or worse, sided with the Islamists.

With the regime change of 7 February, the problem has grown acutely worse. Not only did the new caretaker President Dr Waheed enthusiastically demonstrate a previously unknown affinity with Islamists, his Coalition Government has, from the beginning, continued to deny extremism even exists in the country.

This deliberate denial, coupled with the appointment of Islamists to top positions in government and society, has resulted in the opportunity for extremism to grow unchecked. It now has deep roots within all state institutions including the executive, the parliament, the judiciary and most worryingly, within the security forces.

Recent events of extraordinary violence and their aftermath have gone a long way in demonstrating the truth of this claim.

The attempted murder of Hilath Rasheed

Hilath Rasheed is the only openly gay human rights activist in the Maldives. He, along with fellow blogger and writer Yameen Rasheed, were among the very few Maldivians who dared to voice their anti-extremist opinions publicly. Most bloggers and other writers used pseudonyms. Such caution was not without reason. Death threats against such writers were common.

On 4 June 2012 extremists carried out their threats and attempted to murder Hilath. I met Hilath a few weeks after the attack. There was a scar about 10 inches long  running across his throat horizontally. His voice was only just coming back, and his whole being appeared shaken.

Hilath told me that the last words he heard from the man who cut his throat were:

This is a present from Shaheem, Mutthalib and Imran.

The three men referred to are: Sheikh Shaheem Ali Saeed, the current Minister of Islamic Affairs; Ibrahim Muththalib, an MP who is the most ardent advocate of the death penalty in Parliament; and Imran Abdullah, president of the Adhaalath Party and one of the main actors in the Islamists’ contribution to the change of government on 7 February.

Hilath also made the allegations openly on his blog (banned in the Maldives since November 2011), and they were also reported in Minivan News, although the latter stopped short of identifying the politicians by name.

There has been no official response bar an attempt to mislead the international community by portraying Hilath as a violent criminal caught up in gang violence.

While it is a fact, related by Hilath, that the man who cut his throat named the said politicians, it is quite possible the attacker may have been lying about their involvement. It is also possible that the attackers (there were three altogether) decided to act on their own, motivated not by direct orders but by the ideologies perpetrated by the named politicians.

In the absence of a proper investigation by the Maldives Police Services (MPS), it is hard to know for sure.

In the four months since the attack, and despite existing evidence such as CCTV footage of the incident, the MPS has made no progress whatsoever in their investigations. Without police protection and fearing, instead, persecution by them, Hilath now lives in self-imposed exile. And the MPS has, for all intents and purposes, abandoned the investigation.

This failure by the Maldives Police Services to investigate the attempted murder of Hilath is not simply the incompetency one can expect from a heavily politicised police force. It also implies the existence of dangerous connections between law enforcement leaders and Islamists that go to the very heart of the increasing extremism in the country.

This is a proposition I make on the basis not of Hilath’s case alone – a similar failure has plagued the MPS in the most recent attack associated with Islamists: the murder of MP Dr Afrasheem Ali.

The murder of Dr Afrasheem

Dr Afrasheem Ali was among the increasing number of politicians in the Maldives who also act as religious scholars and pundits, blurring further the already thin line between politics and religion. He was a staunch Gayoom loyalist, an MP for Gayoom’s Progressive Party of the Maldives (PPM) who played a key role in the successful authoritarian attempts to hijack judicial independence in the Maldives.

Although some of Dr Afrasheem’s views on women and their role in society was far from liberal, he is reported to have spoken against forcing women to cover-up and also said that a believing Muslim cannot be declared an unbeliever simply for their failure to grow a beard or display other such ‘religious’ trappings – apparently daring statements for a religious scholar and what passes as ‘moderate’ (or ‘un-Islamic’) in the Maldives these days.

Dr Afrasheem’s killing was no random act of violence. It was a targeted assassination, carried out without mercy within the premises of his own home. He had been the victim of previous attacks, targeted for his beliefs that contradicted those of extremists. In conservative religious circles he was often referred to as Dr Iblis (Dr Satan).

The last major activity he participated in before his death was to appear on television, reportedly at his own behest, to “ask for forgiveness from citizens if he had created a misconception in their minds due to his inability to express himself in the right manner.”  The Islamic Ministry has denied reports that it pressured Dr Afrasheem into making the apology. And, Islamic Minister Shaheem has stated that, contrary to reports, there had been no disagreement between them.

And, just as with the attempted murder of Hilath, the government’s immediate response was to mislead the international media. This time it implicated Nasheed, with the President’s Office spokesperson sending an SMS to international news agencies reading:

Nasheed’s strongest critic Dr Afrasheem has been brutally murdered.

And again, just like with Hilath’s attempted murder, the investigation of Dr Afrasheem’s death appears to be going nowhere.

Not only has there been zero progress, the MPS has also been busy making political use of the murder—a trend which started with the murder of a policeman on 22 July 2012.

So far, a total of six people have been arrested in connection with Dr Afrasheem’s murder. Two weeks later, no charges have been brought against any of them, lending much credence to the allegation by MDP and other democrats that some of the arrests are intended more as a means of persecuting MDP/democracy activists rather than solving a murder. One of them, a young MDP activist, Mariyam Naifa, was released without charge, explanation or apology – but with many conditions – just yesterday, after 15 days in jail.

The MPS is not the only institution where murder is regarded as a political opportunity. Within days of Dr Afrasheem’s death, the Islamist-led push for the death penalty has received new vigor in parliament while the government has moved rapidly to revoke licenses for twenty-four hours shops and cafes citing ‘national security’.

The fact of the matter is that extremist ideologies have taken root within the national security apparatus as much as it has in political institutions. This is evident from the role that religion played in motivating the police and army personnel who refused to obey the ‘heretic’ Nasheed’s orders on 7 February.

It appears that crimes committed in the name of Islam are being pushed to the side by law enforcement personnel who are more interested in turning such atrocities into political battlegrounds, and/or see them as religious duties that do not deserve punishment.

If this continues to be the case, there is little doubt that the Maldivian people stand to suffer even more serious civil and political repression in the not too distant future as the Islamists continue to turn their extremist ideologies into government policy.

Is there a solution?

Islamism in the Maldives is a fact. It may not be the sort that blows people up and turn buildings into ash, but it is rapidly changing the Maldivian society into one of religious intolerance, xenophobia, and a place of violent punishments for those who refuse to follow its ideologies.

If extremism and its associated hatred and violence are to be stopped, or at least held in check, the MDP must start standing up to the politicians and ‘religious scholars’ who propagate such views, and it must stop giving into their demands for the sake of political expediency.

Nasheed has promised that MDP would refrain in the future from forming political alliances that require it to sacrifice its ideals. If he keeps his promise, this is indeed good news. Despite the corruption manifest among many members of its upper echelons, MDP is the only political party in the Maldives right now that has shown a strong commitment to reinstating democratic governance in the Maldives. And, Nasheed remains a beacon of hope for most Maldivian democrats who firmly believe in his commitment to democratic governance despite past mistakes.

The MDP is also the only such body in the country with the clout to push for anti-radicalisation measures without losing the support of a majority of its members. Many of MDP’s supporters are secularists and/or those committed to religious tolerance – values of democracy that are said to be universal.

The United Nations Human Rights Committee stated categorically in July 2012 that there should be no reason for the Maldives to cling on to its current reservation on Article 18 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR). Under the circumstances, it makes no sense for MDP officials to back down when confronted with militant beliefs as it has done in the past.

Even if the MDP does find the courage to stand up against extremism, however, the Maldives needs the support of the international community in fighting the phenomenon. It failed miserably in coming to the aid of the Maldivian democracy in its hours of need, choosing instead to support the pseudo-democratic government of Dr Waheed. But, it cannot afford to be so blasé about the growing extremism in the Maldives.  A failure to properly understand the current Maldivian malaise poses a danger not just to the people of the Maldives, but to its neighbours and the world at large.

Even the most realist of international actors should, therefore, pay close attention to the activities of Maldivian Islamists and refuse to take the new government’s word that ‘there is no extremism in the Maldives’ like it accepted the government’s declaration that ‘there was no coup on 7 February.’

Azra Naseem holds a doctorate in International Relations.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Law as an instrument of political power – CoNI and the coup, part two

This article originally appeared on DhivehiSitee. Republished with permission.

Using the law as an instrument of political power is not a new thing for governments, be they ‘established democracies’ or not.  A prime example is how the Bush administration (ab)used the United States Constitution to circumvent international law on acts of war, to justify Guantanamo Bay, torture, extraordinary rendition and to deny justice and human rights to suspected terrorists in the War on Terror.

The government of Dr Waheed – which, incidentally, is enjoying the full backing of the current US administration – too, has proven itself to be a dab hand at (ab)using the law as an instrument of political power. The CoNI Report, which found there was no coup, mutiny or duress involved in the transfer of power on 7 February 2012, is a case in point.

The first part of this series looked at how CoNI approached the investigation with a foregone conclusion: there was no coup. As discussed, CoNI then began a process of putting together all evidence that supported this conclusion while systematically excluding, or discarding as irrelevant, any evidence that refuted or cast doubt over the said predetermined conclusion.

CoNI approached laws relating to the transfer of power on 7 February in the same manner as it did the facts surrounding it. Laws were picked and chosen as applicable only if they supported CoNI’s foregone conclusion: the change of government was Constitutional. Any part of the Constitution or existing laws that could be applied to refute the said conclusion or challenge its validity were ignored, glossed-over, deliberately misquoted, or dismissed as mere ‘protocol’.

Take, for instance, the following statement:

With regard to the idea that there was a ‘coup d’état’, nothing in the Maldives changed in constitutional terms – indeed, the Constitution was precisely followed as prescribed.

Yes, the Constitution remains unchanged. But that does not automatically mean that the transfer of power ‘precisely followed’ the Constitution ‘as prescribed’. This is a conclusion that can only be deemed legal by abusing law and making a mockery of the principles of the rule of law.

CoNI’s use of the law as an instrument of political power is most blatantly evident in the sections of the Report dealing with (a) presidential succession and (b) resignation and succession. It discusses as relevant to this issue six Articles of the Constitution: 108, 100, 112 (b),  112(d), 121, and 123 (b). Each of them appears to have been selected precisely to prove a particular point, which when taken together, supports the CoNI conclusion that the transfer of power was constitutional.

Article 108 is deemed relevant in this section, for instance, solely to remind the people that sometime ago, in 2008, when they voted for Nasheed, they also voted for Waheed as his running mate. As noted by the Legal Review of the Report by a team of Sri Lankan lawyers, it is an inherently limited argument that

[…] purports to construe the change of power or justify the change of power in terms of what had transpired 3 years ago rather than what had transpired in the present.

Regardless, CoNI uses it to demonstrate that, by law, it matters little that they voted for him not as their leader but as the leader’s deputy. Only when considered separately from the fact that thousands of people now suspect the very same deputy of having caused their leader’s downfall—and when taken in isolation from the various other aspects discussed below—does Article 108 allow Waheed to become someone that can even remotely be regarded as an ‘elected’ president.

Article 100–which deals with the legal means of removing a President from office–is mentioned in the Report, but is not discussed as deserving of note. Given the predetermined conclusion of CoNI, that there was no duress involved in the President’s resignation, the Article of the Constitution is indeed irrelevant.

Articles 112 (b) and (d) deal with eventualities requiring the Vice President’s succession to office of the President.

Article 121(a), which deals with details of a President’s resignation letter, meanwhile, helps establish that because Nasheed wrote the letter in his handwriting, it must be valid and legal. Once President’s Nasheed’s claims that he wrote the letter under duress are dismissed as ‘baseless allegations’ (having excluded any evidence to the contrary), then Article 121 makes perfect sense.

The letter is in Nasheed’s handwriting (written under what circumstances matters not) and it was delivered to the leader of the Majlis (how and by whom did not matter). When looked at in this sort of fantastical isolation, Article 121 can, indeed, be interpreted as validating the document as legal.

Article 114, meanwhile, is cited almost in full:

An incoming President or Vice President shall assume office upon taking and subscribing, before the Chief Justice or his designate, at a sitting of the People’s Majlis, the relevant oath of office set out in Schedule 1 of this Constitution.

Interestingly, although cited in the CoNI Report as the law relevant to ‘resignation and succession’, the Report pays scant subsequent attention to it. In fact, much like the JSC’s dismissal of Article 285 of the Constitution as ‘symbolic’, the CoNI Report dismisses the stipulations of Article 114 as mere ‘protocol’.

The Presidential oath, as stated in the Constitution, requires the incoming President to say his own name in the oath. ‘I, Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik…’ Chief Justice Ahmed Faiz Hussein, who administered the oath,  did not include Waheed’s name in its composition. Similar problems affected US President Barack Obama’s swearing in ceremony in January 2009. The remedy then was for Obama to re-take the oath exactly as prescribed in the Constitution. The current Maldivian government, and the CoNI Report, in contrast, chose to ignore the glaring omission in Waheed’s oath, as if it mattered little.

At a stretch, this is a matter that can be dismissed as a breach of protocol.

But the same cannot be said for the requirement in Article 114 that the new President must take the oath of office at a sitting of the People’s Majlis.  President Waheed took the oath office at a ceremony held in the privacy of a room in the Majlis premises, with only his wife, the Chief Justice, Speaker Abdulla Shahid and a few administrative staff as audience and witnesses. This is not simply a bungled oath.

Neither is it, as the CoNI Report claims, a ‘possible non-compliance’ of ‘protocols which had been created for general office management.’

Precisely where the presidential oath is taken is not simply a matter of housekeeping, nor merely a matter of deciding on which venue is free or most conveniently accessible for the occasion. If the Constitution were to be ‘followed precisely as prescribed’, and if Waheed has been properly sworn in as the President of the Maldives, it would have been done at a sitting of the people’s Majlis.

Is Waheed a caretaker president?

Something starts to smell really rotten when it comes to issues surrounding this question. First, the Report glosses over the fact that the oath administered to Dr Waheed to enable his accession to the presidency was one meant for a caretaker president.

Take the fact, for example, that although it is Article 114 that CoNI cites in reference to Dr Waheed’s oath, in reality the oath administered to Waheed is the one stipulated in Article 126:

Any person temporarily discharging the duties of the office of the President or Vice President shall take and subscribe before the Chief Justice or his designate, the relevant oath of office set out in Schedule 1 of this Constitution.

This is an oath which is not required to be taken in front of the Majlis, for it is not meant for a President proper. And, although the CoNI report makes no mention whatsoever to Article 126, this is the oath that is administered to Waheed. That is what Speaker Shahid says before the oath is administered. Watch the video:

Having stated that Nasheed has resigned under Article 121(a) of the Constitution, this is what Speaker Shaid says (at 1:11):

I, therefore, request of the Vice President, Dr Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik, to take the oath as stipulated in Article 126 of the Constitution enabling him to carry out the responsibilities of the President.

Article 126. Not Article 114.

To cite Article 114 to justify an action taken under Article 126, as the CoNI Report did, is to deliberately mislead the public into believing that we have a President proper rather than a Vice President temporarily assigned the responsibility of carrying out the duties of the President—until such time as there could be a president proper.

This deliberate deceiving of the pubic is further shored up by blatant disinformation, or to put it less kindly, by a blatant lie.

Below is a screen shot of an extract from page 22 of the CoNI Report. Note the highlighted section, and what it states as the contents of Article 123(b) of the Constitution.

CoNI misleads

This is not factual information.

What Article 123(b) says in reality is this:

The ‘subsequent election, permanent incapacity or death’ which the CoNI Report falsely states as contained in Article 123 (b) of the Constitution, in reality, appears in Article 124 (b) in relation to the permanent incapacity of both the President and the Vice President together. It is, therefore, not relevant to the circumstances surrounding the transfer of power on 7 February 2012.

Note that even then, the person who assumes the office of the President does so in a temporary capacity.

If the Constitution were precisely followed as prescribed, as the discussions above show, Waheed is a caretaker president; someone who is temporarily in charge of carrying out the duties of the President until a President proper – that is, a president elected by the people of the Maldives – is sworn in under Article 114.

Even though CoNI and the current Coalition Government, which set CoNI up and also administered the caretaker oath to Dr Waheed, knows this full well, it has chosen to selectively apply parts of the Constitution – and at times deliberately lie – to force the public as a whole to accept him as the ‘elected’ (recall the use of Article 108) President of the Republic of Maldives. Something which he is not.

Why?

Because it is the only ‘legal’ way in which the current government can withhold from the Maldivian people their right to a free and fair election – which must be held as soon as possible – so the caretaker president can be replaced by the President proper, be it Waheed, Nasheed or someone else.

Getting around the mutiny

A group of police and military personnel refused to obey the orders of their Commander in Chief on 6th and 7th February 2012. This is documented in CoNI’s own Timeline, which it describes in the Report as the most solid foundation for its conclusion that there was no coup. Therefore, even for an institution that proved so adapt at twisting the law to suit its facts, there was no getting around the fact that the armed forces—for whatever reason—disobeyed their leader. This was a mutiny:

mutiny |ˈmyoōtn-ē|

noun ( pl. -nies)

an open rebellion against the proper authorities, esp. by soldiers or sailors against their officers : a mutiny by those manning the weapons could trigger a global war mutiny at sea.

So how does CoNI absolve the mutinying armed forces of any responsibility in the transfer of power? First it points out that ‘there is no definition of the expression “coup d’etat’ in Maldivian law’, implying that because the Maldivian law has so far failed to define the term, no transfer of power, no matter how illegally affected, cannot be deemed a coup.

Then it notes that there are several statutory provisions that do define rebellion as an offence against the State punishable by law, but promptly dismisses them as inapplicable because, even if there was such a thing as a coup, the open rebellion of the armed forces cannot be deemed a coup because it occurred before the coup.

This position is nothing short of ridiculous: the only thing that can be considered a coup under this definition is the actual act of assumption of power by a new President – the act of swearing in, in this case. Everything that comes before it, leads to it, triggers it, is the catalyst of it, and/or is the direct cause of it, according to this position, is irrelevant and inconsequential.

Yet, this is the position CoNI takes: because the rebellion of the armed forces can neverbe a coup per se even if it directly leads to one, any such mutiny cannot be punished as an offence against the State.

By (ab)using the law in this manner, CoNI is thus able to make a military and policecoup d’etat against the State impossible—even if it occurred in broad daylight and was witnessed, in real time, by the entire nation. In this manner, the police and the armed forces, and the three men who commandeered them and guided them through the rebellion, are all absolved of responsibility and made immune from prosecution for not just their disobedience of authority but also its consequences: the end of a democratically elected government.

Given CoNI’s abuse of rule of law – using the law as its primary instrument – it would be a travesty against the very concept of democracy for its Report to be accepted and endorsed as the definitive truth, and as a legally binding document that settles once and for all the many disputes that surround the transfer of power in the Maldives on 7 February.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Constructing the truth – CoNI and the coup, part one

This article originally appeared on DhivehiSitee. Republished with permission.

There are no facts, only interpretations.

– Frederich Nietzsche

When the allegation lacks substance or reality, nothing is required in response.

– Commission of National Inquiry (CoNI)

The idea that an objective truth can exist independent of political power is a myth dating back to Plato. On the contrary, truth and political power are intricately woven together—one cannot exist without the other. Instead of an ‘objective truth’, what becomes accepted as ‘reality’ is based on what those in power are willing to include as ‘true’ and what they exclude as ‘false’ in what they say and do about a given issue. While such power/truth relations are normally hidden from surface observations and casual scrutiny, the Report of the Commission of National Inquiry, Maldives is a document that blatantly demonstrates how ‘truth’ is produced in this manner and how the truth so constructed is used to exercise power and control over society.

It is CoNI’s conclusion that there was “No coup, no duress, no mutiny” in the Maldives on 7 February 2012. To arrive at this ‘truth’, the CoNI Report excludes all information it regards as false and includes only what it deems true according to preconceived notions and beliefs.  “When the allegation lacks substance or reality”, it states, “nothing is required in response.” How CoNI decided what ‘lacks substance or reality’ and, therefore, can be dismissed as not worthy of a response, is not explained. It is an arbitrary measurement, composed and set up by the Commission according to a standard that itself decided on, and which it decided not to make public.

Some statements contained in the report, however, do provide an indication as to the criteria used by CoNI to decide which of the 293 witnesses it interviewed were telling the truth, and which of them were judged as simply repeating ‘hearsay’ or enthusiastically relaying fantasies of a confused mind susceptible to suggestion.

Take, for example, the following statement:

Just as a question has no evidential value unless the person answering accepts or adopts the fact contained in the question, allegations have no evidential value just because someone has articulated them repeatedly.

What does this confused and confusing statement mean? If a question is being asked in order to establish the facts of an event, why then does the question itself contain a fact that the answer must first accept for it to be considered valid? Is CoNI saying that a decision was made from the very beginning to exclude as invalid all the answers that did not first accept ‘the fact’—as stated in CoNI’s findings—that ‘there was no coup’?

How much evidence was excluded on this basis? Is this the grounds on which the evidence of Nasheed’s wife, Laila, for instance, was given no consideration by CoNI? In an investigation of the validity of Nasheed’s claim that he resigned under duress, fearful not just of a public bloodbath but also for the safety of himself and his family, would the evidence of his wife not be essential to verifying his explanation?

It is not just Laila’s evidence that seems to have no place in CoNI’s deliberations. Although one of the appendices to the report provides a list of 49 pieces of documentary evidence submitted by various witnesses, there are only seven such documents it refers to as having ‘comprehensively reviewed by the Commission’.

Of these, what it relied on most was its own Timeline, published on 6 June 2012, over two months before it completed its deliberations. [The English translation of the Timeline published on the CoNI website on its official letterhead was copied verbatim—except for an occasional substitution of a word here and there—from Dhivehi Sitee with neither permission nor acknowledgement, or shame for that matter.]

According to the CoNI Report this Timeline, published prior to interviewing some of the most important witnesses to the events of 7 February, was the truest document of them all. There was nothing anybody could say to challenge its version of events, for it contained CoNI’s ‘truth’.

It must be noted also that despite the many alternative scenarios which have been produced internally and internationally, there has been virtually no challenge of any substance to what was recorded in the Timeline.

Indeed. Not when all evidence that was excluded from the Timeline remained excluded as unworthy of inclusion.

This is an analysis of some of the most blatant exclusions of fact the CoNI Report relied upon to construct a particular ‘truth’ about the events of 7th February 2012. It is part one in a series of in-depth analyses of the CoNI Report which, if accepted in its current form as ‘what really happened’ in the Maldives on that day, renders the 2008 Constitution of the Maldives meaningless and creates the conditions in which the illegal overthrow of a government can be deemed legal.

Azra Naseem holds a doctorate in International Relations.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Burial of the truth

This article first appeared on Dhivehi Sitee. Republished with permission.

Last Sunday night Lance Corporal Adam Haleem was stabbed to death on the island of Kaashidhoo. He was en route to duty and in full uniform. He died from multiple stab wounds just after midnight. He was 26 years old, and the father of a son not yet a year old.

Before the young policeman’s body was cold, his death had become a political opportunity for many. Politicisation of life and death is not a new phenomenon in the Maldives. It was on the rise before the change of government on 7 February. But the extent to which the current ‘Unity Government’ of Dr Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik is going, to squeeze every drop of political juice from the death of Lance Corporal Hameed, is a revolting spectacle to behold.

It was Dr Waheed himself who set the ball rolling.

What was this about hate-mongering? What did he mean? Was the policeman’s murder linked to the current political unrest? That was certainly the inference, as he reiterated shortly after:

One of the first political figures to put into words what Waheed insinuated was MP for Kaashidhoo area Abdulla Jabir. He told the Sun within an hour of the news breaking:

[I] condemn this murder in strictest words. It is sad that such incidents are increasing. The reason for this is the continued actions by MDP [Maldivian Democratic Party] to spread lies about the police and create anger against them among the people.

Sun also reported that ‘Private MP’ Ahmed Mahloof (PPM), less than two hours after the news broke, said:

What we have seen tonight is the democracy that MDP talks about. The democracy we have seen is the one which calls to attack the police. I condemn this. Nasheed and MDP must take responsibility for this.

Several others were jostling for space on the bandwagon. Home Minister Mohamed Jameel Ahmed said this:

Here are some significant others.

Human Rights Commissioner Mariyam Azra, too, appeared convinced that what the Unity Government and its supporters were saying was indeed true. Within the hour she had this to say:

Very sad that a policeman has been killed like this. Nobody should speak in ways that incite hatred against another.

Politics of death

The death of a policeman—especially when hostilities between anti-government protesters and the security forces are at an all time high—is a potent event, laden with political consequences. For the Unity Government it became the ‘evidence’ with which to prove a ‘truth’ they have been peddling from the beginning: MDP is a violent political group determined to regain power at any cost.

This strategy for criminalising dissent and constructing all supporters of MDP as ‘terrorists’ who are also the cause of all the social unrest of today, has been at the forefront of this government’s efforts to legitimise itself since day one.

The government was helped in its campaign to exploit the young policeman’s death by the police themselves. Lance Corporal Haleem died at around quarter past midnight on Sunday night. Between then and mid-afternoon Monday—despite being in possession of all facts surrounding the murder—the police did not make public any details surrounding it. The only thing said was ‘a policeman has been murdered,’ and where.

This left a long Speculation Window in which the Unity Government could air as fact its message that Lance Corporal Haleem had been murdered by an MDP thug, driven to it by calls for violence against the police by MDP leaders.

During the midnight hours, knowing that most people stay up late during Ramadan, key figures in the Unity Government saturated the media with the message. Jumhooree Party (JP) leader Gasim Ibrahim appeared on his Villa TV with Kaashidhoo MP Jabir and JP’s President Dr Didi to discuss ‘the problem of MDP’s continuous incitment of violence against the police.’

They intertwined news of the policeman’s death with the narrative of ‘MDP violence against the police’ so often and with such conviction that by the time the police finally revealed more facts, most people—except the accused—were convinced MDP was behind the policeman’s murder. Here’s a tweet that encapsulates the sentiments of government supporters the following day.

Dissemination of the message did not stop at the country’s borders. In fact, when spread to the international community, the Unity Government didn’t bother with the insinuations. It just came straight out and pointed the figure at MDP. Before Monday morning, the President’s Office Spokesperson, Masood Imad, had told the AFP in Colombo:

The MDP instigated the attack on policemen at Kaashidoo and one was stabbed to death.

Here’s how a Sri Lankan newspaper ran the story the next morning:

Whither the truth?

The truth of the matter, when details began to come out on Monday, was very different. Lance Corporal Haleem was killed by a criminal he had investigated for about a year, and was about to arrest.

The murder was straightforward, and Mohamed Samah, the 22-year-old culprit from the same island, was arrested at the scene. There was an eye-witness and several people, including the police, were on the scene within seconds.

The subsequent scramble to pinpoint the political party to which the accused belonged was ugly. And it was a malaise that affected not just the Unity Government but the general population in its majority. It was as if the violent death of a young man would only begin to matter once the murderer’s political affiliation was established.

His connections with various key figures in different political parties were discussed; his identity card number was keyed into the Elections Commissions website; his membership of one party thus established without doubt—only for that party to come out and say: “There are many MDP members who signed up to other parties by mistake.” Seriously. In a ‘functioning democracy’, as Dr Waheed describes the Maldives, the facts of Lance Corporal Haleem’s death would have required a formal retraction. And, at the very least, it would have elicited an apology to the MDP for very serious wrongful accusations made against it.

But that is not what happened, for it was not Lance Corporal Haleem’s death that was important but the concurrent narrative of MDP’s violence that it was used to construct. Under the circumstances, truth was irrelevant. Thus the political abuse of Lance Corporal Haleem’s body continued apace.

After the condemnations came the heavily publicised State funeral. Of course, the fallen must be honoured. Policemen put their lives at risk protecting society, and we should appreciate that, especially so when they die on duty.

But was the public spectacle put on by the Unity Government and Maldives Police Service really necessary? It is not part of Maldivian culture to hold ostentatious, loud, photographed and televised funerals.

We are humble and simple in our bereavement. But, pictures of Lance Corporal Haleem’s coffin being carried to Islamic Centre on the shoulders of sombre looking policeman were splashed across the media. As were pictures of various key Unity Government figures consoling the family, looking appropriately grieved, and even praying. Faith, like death, reduced to a photo opportunity.

In a slight digression: I could not help but notice Lance Corporal Haleem’s distraught mother photographed at the burial ground paying her respects. I know several mothers, wives, daughters and sisters (myself included) who have desperately wanted it to be otherwise. But it has always been maintained that a woman cannot partake in the burial. What was it about this occasion that allowed the bending of a seemingly inflexible Islamic rule?

Retaliation against the wrongfully accused

As the day passed, the rhetoric of MDP’s violence against the police was only ratcheted up, not lowered. Now the Unity Government’s efforts were on making people forget the truth.

It seems as if the fact of Lance Corporal Haleem’s death has been buried with him. What remained of concern was the accompanying narrative – MDP is deliberately inciting violence against the police and must be stopped.

Thus the Maldives Police Service began ‘retaliation’ against MDP for a crime it had nothing to do with. Chief among several actions taken to avenge Lance Corporal Haleem’s murder was the ’leaking’ of a telephone conversation between Nasheed and MDP Mariya Didi, one of his closest allies and friends. In the March 29 conversation, Mariya is heard updating Nasheed about police violence and use of pepper-spray against protesters resisting their dismantling of Usfasgan’du [MDP’s protest camp] that day. She asks for Nasheed’s advice, and he replies:

There’s not much we can do. I don’t know. What is there to do? I think [we] need to get people out to fight if we can get them. If we can get people to fight, get them out. It’s very clear to me, I think we need to fight back. If we can get people to fight. Find kids from Male to fight the police.

Mariya laughs. Not the response one would expect from a person who thinks she has just been assigned the task of recruiting a gang of thugs to take on the national security forces. Regardless, the police thought it prudent to release the audio clip. For what purpose? It was certainly not aimed at calming tensions or to make real the rhetoric of reconciliation.

Nasheed’s supporters are unlikely to accept the private conversation between him and Mariya as evidence of his alleged brutality. For them, his commitment to non-violence was proven beyond doubt when not just the MDP-affiliated Coup Report but also the so-called CONI Timeline documented Nasheed’s unequivocal refusal to use weapons against the mutinying police, or anyone else, on 7 February.

The only purposes the audio clip served was to harden government supporters’ dislike and mistrust of Nasheed, and to fortify government’s efforts to construct Nasheed as the cruel leader of the violent political organisation that is said to be MDP. To support their claim that MDP leaders are all characterised by political extremists prone to violence, they have also unearthed statements made by key MDP figures encouraging—wrongly so—retaliation against the police for their brutal violence against them during the events surrounding the transfer of government.

Whether or not their words bear any relation to the murder of the policeman, once again, is of the least consequence. What it did beautifully was fit the government narrative. What use to make of the audio clip, which the police has been in possession of since March, was decided shortly after Lance Corporal Haleem’s murder and long before facts of his killing were made public. Home Minister Jameel hinted at it on the night of the murder itself:

The ‘evidence’, with the allegation, is continuing to play across the media—mainstream and social–since then.

Before they brought foreigners and shot them dead, now getting Maldivians to stab them…Bravo to the democracy Anni is bringing.

The poster with the last Tweet from President’s Spokesperson Abbas Riza reads:

6 February Massacre

Main reasons why a massacre was desired:

—to declare a state of emergency

—to abolish the JSC and give MDP the power to appoint judges

—to arrest the leaders who stepped up to defend Islam and the Constitution

—to hand MPL (Maldives Ports Limited) to a company of which India’s GMR is a shareholder

These are not the words and actions of members of a government eager to calm the political and social turmoil afflicting Maldives today. On the contrary, they are intended to cause the opposite effect.

If the Unity Government were serious about reconciliation in the five long months gone, it would have taken due action against members of the police who mutinied. It would not have given them promotions instead.

It would not have appointed as leaders of the security forces men like Mohamed Nazim, Abdulla Riyaz and Mohamed Fayaz, men who the whole country saw playing a key role in the change of government on 7 February. The seeds of public mistrust of the police were planted on that day, and on 8 February. And they grow and mushroom with every day that passes without this government’s acknowledgement of the these facts.

There can be no reconciliation without the truth.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Sharia and the death penalty

This article first appeared on Dhivehisitee. Republished with permission.

On July 1, a Maldivian lawyer was brutally murdered, his body stuffed into a dustbin.

On June 4,  militant Islamists tried to murder Hilath Rasheed, the country’s only openly gay rights activist and a rare voice advocating secularism in the Maldives.

On 30 May,  a 65-year-old man was killed on the island of Manafaru by robbers after his pension fund.

On the same day, in Male’ a 16-year-old school boy was stabbed multiple times and left to bleed to death in a public park.

On April 1, a 33-year-old man was stabbed to death in broad daylight by two men on a motorbike.  On February 19, a twenty-one-year-old life was taken in a case of ‘mistaken identity’.

Amidst the increasing violence and decreasing value of life, calls for restoration of the death penalty are growing. It is normal for a society experiencing unprecedented levels of crime to demand the death penalty as a solution. In the Maldives, however, the whole debate is framed within the precincts of religion, touted as a return to ‘Islamic justice.’

This is not to say other ways of looking at it are completely absent from the discourse. There’s Hawwa Lubna’s examination of the death penalty within a rule of law framework in Minivan News, and Mohamed Visham’s somewhat confused and confusing analysis of its pros and cons in Haveeru, for example. Such discussions are, however, pushed to the fringes as the theme of ‘Islamic justice’ takes precedence.

My question is, how Islamic is this call for ‘Marah Maru’ [death for death]? Is revenge what underpins provisions for the death penalty in Sharia?

The Qur’an mandates that everyone has a right to life, unless a court of law demands killing: “Nor take life — which Allah has made sacred — except for just cause.”1

What is not being said in the Maldivian debates on the death penalty is that although the Qur’an provides for situations in which the death penalty can be imposed, all such situations are carefully laid out with stringent evidentiary requirements that discourage carrying out a death sentence.

And, in all situations where capital punishment can be imposed, it offers alternative punishments that allow the death penalty to be avoided. 2

Among the three types of crimes for which the death penalty can be imposed in Sharia–hududqisas, and the ta’zir– murder belongs to the Qisas category. Qisas are offences proscribed by the Qur’an or Sunnah, but are subject of personal claims, rather than offences against Islam. Qisas deals with murder or bodily injury. The Qur’an allows retaliation against the individual who commits a Qisas crime, but also clearly demonstrates a strong preference for forgiveness.3

We have often heard in the current Maldivian debate the call for an ‘eye for an eye’, a ‘life for life’, citing the Qur’an; what we do not hear is the rest of the verse.

We ordained therein for them:

“Life for life, eye for eye,

Nose for nose, ear for ear,

Tooth for tooth, and wounds

Equal for equal.”

But if Anyone remits the retaliation

By way of charity, it is

An act of atonement for himself.

And if any fail to judge

By (the light of) what Allah

Hath revealed, they are

(No better than) wrongdoers. 4

The law of equality

Is prescribed to you

In cases of murder:

The free for the free,

The Slave for the Slave,

The woman for the woman.

But if any remission

Is made by the brother

Of the slain, then grant

Any reasonable demand,

And compensate him

With handsome gratitude 5

The right for the family of a murder victim to demand harm is balanced by the opportunity for family members to accept payment, or diya, for their loss instead of demanding that the perpetrator be punished. This is reflected in the fact that, generally, the Qur’an expresses a preference for diya over qisas 6 It says, for instance, that the Muslim who chooses diya will be rewarded in heaven:

It is part of the Mercy

Of Allah that thou dost deal

Gently with them.

Wert thou severe

Or harsh-hearted,

They would have broken away

From about thee: so pass over

(Their faults), and ask

For (Allah’s) forgiveness

For them; and consult

Them in affairs (of moment).

Then, when thou hast

Taken a decision

Put thy trust in Allah.

For Allah loves those

Who put their trust (in Him) 7

The question is, when Sharia so emphasises forgiveness over punishment, why is the emphasis of the Maldivian death penalty debate on punishment over forgiveness? In the murder of lawyer Ahmed Najeeb, for instance, the breathtakingly rapid investigation and court case revealed that two members of Najeeb’s eight inheritors chose diya over death, preferring not to take a life for a life.

When, according to the Qur’an and Sunna, diya is the more honourable choice, why was the choice of these two relatives Najeeb not highlighted in the national discourse as motivated by ‘Islamic values’ and, therefore, praiseworthy?

Why is ‘truly Islamic’ justice only portrayed as ‘an eye for eye, a life for a life’?

Not only is the reluctance to punish found in the Qur’an, it is also the case in the Sunnah. A’isha, the wife of the Prophet said, for instance, to:

avoid condemning the Muslim to Hudud whenever you can, and when you can find a way out for the Muslim then release him for it. If the Imam errs it is better that he errs in favour of innocence…than in favour of guilt.8

There is another narrative from the Prophet’s life that demonstrates he actively encouraged his followers to ward off punishment by looking for uncertainties that would create reasonable doubt, making the punishment impossible.

Maa’iz b. Malik was a person who presented himself to the Prophet, confessing Zina and requesting purification with the hadd. His story is scattered through the books of Hadith in numerous narrations. The Prophet repeatedly told him to go back and seek Allah’s forgiveness. After he kept returning, the Prophet made a number of attempts to make sure there was no doubt. He sent his Companions to Maa’iz’s people to inquire if he was known to be insane. He was informed there was no evidence of insanity nor was was he known to have any defect in his mind. He then asked them whether he was intoxicated, and the Companions smelled his mouth and informed him that they could not detect any signs of alcohol on his breath. Only then did the Prophet implement the hadd of stoning. In additional narrations of this same story, the prophet asked Maa’iz some specific questions to avert possible doubt:

“Perhaps you only kissed her or flirted with her or gazed at her.” Maiz replied, “No”. He then asked, “Did you have physical intercourse with her?” He replied, “Yes,” and only then was he ordered to be stoned.9

Quite clearly, Islamic justice is based on the ethos of forgiveness rather than punishment.

This understanding of the Sharia is being left out of the Maldivian debate – as it was left out of much of Western discourse on Sharia in the last decade – by those calling for an end to the moratorium on the death penalty. It is a suspension that has lasted from 1953 till now, and one that more closely reflects the Quranic understanding of Sharia.

Given that all parties pushing the death penalty are framing it as re-introduction of an ‘Islamic justice’ system, it is wrong that they are all ignoring the emphasis that the system places on finding alternatives to taking a life for a life.

It raises the question of whether the real motives behind the call for the death penalty are political rather than a desire for justice itself, Islamic or otherwise.

Leading the call are the usual suspects – prominent legal players such as Attorney General Azima Shukoor, Prosecutor General Ahmed Muizz and Home Minister Mohamed Jameel Ahmed – who have all expressed their desire for restoration of the ‘Islamic justice’ of the death penalty. And the Chief Justice Ahmed Faiz has – incredibly – described the beleaguered Maldivian justice system as capable of meting out capital punishment justly.

For politicians, imposing the death penalty at a time of unprecedented violence such as now provides the opportunity for appearing tough on crime – always a vote-attracter among a population battling with rising crime rates, especially when a crucial election is nigh. Their assumption is that if the State were only brave enough to take upon itself the power to kill, everyone else would cease to do so.

Furthermore, it provides a rare and valuable opportunity to flex political muscle at a time when the government is weak and its legitimacy is in question.

For the Islamists, it is the means with which to enforce a particularly harsh interpretation of Sharia on the Maldivian people in the name of Islam.

Given the situation, it is shocking that no member of the community of ‘Islamic scholars’ in the Maldives have come forward to emphasise understandings of Sharia and Islamic jurisprudence that highlight forgiveness and mercy as virtues much more deserving of Allah’s approval than revenge – even where justified by law.

Does the lack of an alternative view mean that in the last decade or so Islamists have established such a hegemony over Maldivian religious thought that it prevents any other views from being offered to the public?

Does it mean there are no ‘Islamic scholars’ in the country with an understanding of Islam that is not Islamist?

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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Comment: Dr Who? Know thy President

This article first appeared on Dhivehisitee. Republished with permission.

Until Dr Mohamed Waheed Hassan Manik took oath of office as President of the Maldives on 7 February, most people did not know much about him, and even more could not care less.

The generally shared impression of Waheed was that he is an educated man who drily stuck to policy, the ex-UNICEF man with a PhD from Stanford. As Vice President he was delegated drugs and environment as focus topics, both issues of great national concern. He seemed to keep well out of the political intrigue and chaos that surrounded him; and, unlike most Members of Parliament and the increasing band of petty politicians, largely managed to stay out of newspaper gossip, and the extremely productive Maldivian grapevine.

He has friends in high places, even if of dubious credentials, like the vacillating British tycoon Sir Richard Branson who first criticised Waheed then admired him then suggested a middle-ground; and the mysterious ‘Malaysian consultant’, Dr Ananda Kumarasiri. Kumarasiri is a best-selling Buddhist author who, when he arrived in Male’ shortly after 7 February, was described as ‘a passing friend.’ But he was allowed to interrupt Waheed during an official press conference, and to speak for him in Sri Lanka.

Abroad, the general impression Waheed seems to have left is that of an affable, likeable man. Even when disagreeing with him, Waheed’s foreign acquaintances make a point of saying they like him.

Branson said, for instance:

It was a real pleasure meeting you and your delightful wife when I was last in the Maldives…

From knowing you, I would assume that you were given no choice and that it was through threats that you have ended up in this position.

And Mike Mason, Nasheed’s Energy Advisor, said this:

I don’t think Dr Waheed is a bad man – actually I like him a lot personally.

Perhaps these men see a side of Waheed that the general Maldivian public do not. Certainly, his interactions with the foreign press are rather jovial and quite the opposite of the dull occasions they are back home.

Truth is, the general Maldivian public did not quite know who Dr Waheed was, and nobody really cared. But, now that he has put himself in the Presidential limelight, it is becoming increasingly clear that there is substantial discord between the image people had constructed of Waheed and the details of his personality emerging since he assumed office on 7 February.

At an early press conference as President, for example, he was asked about allegations of a coup. Waheed replied,”Do I look like a man who would stage a coup d’état?”

Waheed’s belligerence towards those against his presidency came as a shock to most people. A popular recrimination of Waheed among Maldivians is that he is a quitter. In 1989 he ran for Parliament but quit and left the country in 1991 when the going got tough under Gayoom’s repression. He only returned in 2005. People call him ‘Fili Waheed’, ‘Waheed who fled.’

In the last 141 days Waheed has shown that this label no longer applies, if it ever did. He makes his determination to stay President until November 2013 crystal clear. He spelled it out for the BBC earlier this month. Even if CoNI [Commission of National Inquiry] finds that there was a coup on 7 February, unless his direct involvement was proven, he would not leave the post. Even if it means battling it out in court.

If they [the commission] find out that I have had a role in bringing about a coup, then I will definitely resign.

But if I have no role – if somebody else has done it – it doesn’t mean I have to resign, according to the law of the Maldives.

People were properly introduced to this new aspect of Waheed’s personality on 24 February when he gave a rousing speech in ‘Defence of Islam’ to a thousand-strong crowd of supporters. Gone was the refined gentleman of the world, the Westernised academic. Here was an Islamic warrior, calling everyone to join his Jihad and proclaiming Allah had made him President. Again, it wasn’t just words, but his actions; the whole package jarred sharply with the public perception of Waheed.

The previously placid Dr Waheed pumped his fists in the air and addressed his supporters as Mujaheddin. Where did all the rage, the Islamist vocabulary, the sheer bull-headedness, the pelvis-pumping, and the swagger come from?

Waheed’s attempts to deliver his presidential address on 19 March also show his determination to keep his job, and suggest that he quite relishes defeating MDP’s efforts to prove the illegitimacy of his government. Three times he was interrupted mid-sentence during his ‘inaugural address’. Where a less determined man would have crumpled, Waheed battled on and, in a credible impersonation of Arnold Schwarzenneger’s Terminator, told MDP MPs: ‘I’ll be back.’ He was. He delivered the speech.

Since becoming President, he has also shown himself to be remarkably thick-skinned to public humiliation. Led by Maldives Democratic Party (MDP), supporters of Nasheed and reformists have continued to oppose his rule on the streets of Male on a regular basis. When Waheed travels across the country, he has to send ahead armed police and military to line the streets and protect him from protesters.

Waheed has refused to let it get to him. Instead, he seems to have decided on a strategy of ignoring the protesters, claiming – and then sincerely believing – he has 90 percent support among the Maldivian population. He pretends not to hear the calls for early elections, and the public anger against him. When he cannot avoid angry democrats, he waves, smiles, and makes sure at least one smiling child is in the vicinity for a photograph that could be captioned as ‘my supporters love me.’


With time, it has also become clear that although Waheed has set up CoNI to look into the events of 7 February 2012 and Nasheed’s resignation, he remains absolutely convinced that Nasheed was responsible for his own demise. Details of an email exchange between Dr Waheed and Nasheed’s Energy Advisor Mike Mason published by Minivan News this month revealed that in Waheed’s opinion, Nasheed was under the influence of an illegal substance when he decided to resign.

“It would be nice if you listened to something other than Nasheed’s propaganda. He is free to go anywhere he wants and say what ever he wants,” Waheed wrote.

“Have you ever thought that Nasheed could have made a stupid mistake under the influence of what ever he was on and blown everything away? I thought you had more intelligence than to think that I am someone’s puppet and Maldives is another dictatorship,” the President said.

Is Waheed a puppet?

Since the coup, people have come to form a new impression of Waheed: that he is a puppet of political masters above him. In late February, an audio recording was leaked to the local media in which Waheed’s own political advisor was heard describing him as ‘the most incompetent politician in the Maldives.’ From Dr Hassan Saeed’s comments, emerged a Waheed who felt bored and irrelevant within Nasheed’s administration, spending his time playing games on social media networks.

Although it contradicts Waheed’s emerging Hard Man persona, it matches people’s perception of him as a coward and a quitter.

Many incidents have occurred in these 141 days of his presidency to suggest the accusations are not baseless rumours. Waheed’s speech was interrupted live by MP and tourism tycoon Gasim Ibrahim on 24 February. A President who is in command will only be interrupted in public if there is a national emergency (remember this moment?)

or, if someone else is in command.

And then there are the ‘little things.’ Like Waheed paying a courtesy call on Gayoom at Gayoom’s residence after becoming president. Protocol dictates the visit be the other way round. When President Mahmood Abbas of Palestine paid a visit, on invitation from President Nasheed, it was impossible to say who the official host was, Gayoom or Waheed.

Waheed also seems incapable of stopping involvement of the supernatural in law enforcement practices–a hallmark of Gayoom’s thirty-year rule–that have returned to haunt Maldivian politics in the last three months. The general impression of Waheed as the well-travelled ex-UN-official cannot be easily reconciled with a Commander in Chief who lets his armed forces pursue, prosecute, and punish people for ‘practising sorcery.’

Another factor that further indicates Waheed is far from being in control of the government is his relations with the Islamists. Perhaps because he worked in Afghanistan, and saw first hand the dangers of extremist religion in the twenty-first century, countering Islamism in the Maldives seemed to be of some concern to Waheed. In October 2010, for example, he told Indians that ‘rising extremism‘ posed a challenge to the Maldives.

Yet, he gave that 24 February speech about the Mujaheddin, and allowed himself to be criticised for attending a ceremonial service at St Paul’s in London marking the British Queen’s Diamond Jubilee.

In May, convicted terrorist Mohamed Ameen who detonated a bomb in Male’s main tourist thoroughfare was released from prison, while this month Islamists attempted to murder the country’s only openly gay rights activist and campaigner for a secular Maldives, Hilath Rasheed. On 7 February itself, extremists vandalised the National Museum and destroyed age-old Buddhist relics.

Waheed has remained silent on such critical incidents while key members of his cabinet have told the international community that threats from Islamism in the Maldives are exaggerated.

Also, thanks to a purple-prose column published on Haveeru [in Dhivehi] recently commemorating the 25th aniversary of Dr Waheed’s PhD degree, the public has come to know that his dissertation was on the subject of political influence over national education curricula. Yet, he has not made a stand against the Islamist Adhaalath Party’s continuing efforts to meddle with the national curriculum. And he most certainly did not stand up against Adaalath, and key political figures, for their criticism of Nasheed as anti-Islamic when Washington Post reported that:

While he [Nasheed] was in power, he says, he changed the school curriculum to make it “more balanced and not so Islamic” and proposed a new penal code less dependent on Islamic sharia law.

It is surprising that a man so proud of his academic credentials that he thinks its 25th anniversary is an occasion deserving of national attention, fails to stand up for the core arguments of his own work. Such weakness of principles does suggest a corresponding weakness in character, making it very plausible that Waheed is, indeed, a puppet being controlled by an unspecified master or masters.

Despite his many weaknesses in the face of the varying demands and beliefs of the so-called Unity Government, should Waheed really be dismissed as a mere puppet?

It is just as, if not more, plausible that his ‘inability’ to take action is precisely the terms of the deal he agreed to with the so-called Opposition Coalition in the early hours of the morning of 31 January 2012.

The rewards for Waheed the President, even if a very short-term president, are rich. Apart from the usual perks of travelling the country and the world in full national honour, influence and global profile, there are also the many benefits for his nearest and dearest.

Almost all members of his family in Male’ and of working age are now in high-ranking government positions or in lucrative positions as board members of various national and international businesses and associations. His son Jeffery Salim Waheed, was promoted from an Intern at the Maldives Permanent Mission to the UN to First Secretary shortly after Waheed assumed office. Salim Waheed was previously a vocal campaigner for democracy but has now become a crusader for his father’s cause.

Judging from what other key players in the Opposition Coalition have said, Waheed’s deal with them also includes a promise that he will not run for presidency in 2013. Umar Naseer, the outspoken Vice President of Gayoom’s Progressive Party of Maldives (PPM) has told the media several times that he ‘knows’ Waheed will not run in 2013. So far, Gasim Ibrahim from the Jumhooree Party (JP), Thasmeen Ali from Dhivehi Rayyithun ge Party (DRP) and Nasheed have declared their intention to run in 2013. Waheed has stayed silent.

The silence suggests Umar Naseer, as usual, is speaking from first-hand knowledge of the behind the scenes strategising by the Unity Government. Waheed’s share of the pie for helping topple Nasheed seems to be twenty-one months as President, and full immunity from prosecution at the end of his term with full benefits and privileges accorded to former presidents. A life of luxury abroad–preferably in America and desirably inclusive of frequent socialising with the Obamas, and perhaps working the lecture circuits à la Clinton and Blair, is what Waheed is looking forward to once he completes his part of the deal.

This suggests that Waheed is more pragmatist than puppet. Someone who knew exactly what he wanted–the Presidency of the Republic of Maldives–and got it. It mattered little to him how. Dismissing Waheed as a puppet would be a mistake.

All comment pieces are the sole view of the author and do not reflect the editorial policy of Minivan News. If you would like to write an opinion piece, please send proposals to [email protected]

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